The domestic tensions that marked the beginning of the Jacob cycle have continued. Esau is beginning to rue the loss of his birthright, so Jacob is sent to his mother's brother, Laban, for safekeeping and to seek a wife from among his mother's people. He is, in effect, a man on the run. On his way to Haran, Jacob pauses for the night and has a dream. Because they represent a liminal state between waking and sleeping, dreams were believed to be a space in which one might encounter God. We also often think of dreams as places of special vision: consider Martin Luther King Jr.'s "I Have a Dream" speech or the song made popular by Peter, Paul, and Mary, "Last Night I Had the Strangest Dream." Dreams offer a space suspended from time and place where harsh realities can be re-visioned. When they are fully embraced, these dreams have the potential, in turn, to transform reality.

Within the narrative, the liminality of the space is suggested by its initial ambiguous description as "a certain place." When, following the dream, Jacob renames the place beth-el ("house of God") he describes it as "the gate of heaven," a liminal space where earth and heaven meet. It is, as Jacob says, an "awesome place." We should hear in this the contemporary "Wow!" coupled with respect and even fear of that which is beyond our understanding. Jacob's dream is punctuated at four points by the word behold (omitted in the English): "behold, a ladder [more likely, staircase or ramp]," "behold, angels of God," "behold, the Lord stood beside him," "behold, know that I am with you." These markers draw Jacob in to the presence of God and the reassurance of the presence of God with him. Whatever else is said in the dream, it is this presence of God with him upon which the surety of all other promises is built.

God is identified as "the God of Abraham your father and the God of Isaac." God is not associated, ultimately, with place, but in relationship and promise. This description of God also firmly associates God with the promises made first to Abraham, then to his descendent, Isaac. The appearance by God to Jacob reveals that it is through Jacob the fugitive that the working out of God's promises is to be continued. It is striking, therefore, that the promise revolves around land, for, at the moment, Jacob is a man dispossessed of land. God also promises offspring "like the dust of the earth" to a man as yet unmarried. Yet by this point in Genesis, we should be used to God whose vision is beyond what we can see immediately before us and who comes to us in dreams that hold out hope of transforming our reality.

This short passage is an oracle ("Thus says the Lord"), spoken in the context of a judicial case ("Who is like me?"). The oracle concerns the one God versus the many gods that surround the exiles in Babylon (see 47:10). In the ancient world, where no division existed between religion and state, the power of the gods was closely aligned with nationalistic aims. This was true also of the one God, and presents one of the challenges of this text for preachers. How do we understand the power of the one God in a multireligious context built on the premise that there will be "no law respecting an establishment of religion"?1

The nationalistic dimension of God is evident in the titles of verse 6: "King of Israel," "Israel's Redeemer," "Lord of hosts [warriors]." Yet there are indications that this one God transcends national boundaries in the claim that God is the first and the last, "besides me there is no god." In historical context, the latter does not mean there are no other gods, but that they are of no account when compared with the one God. Verses 7a and 8 offer a word of assurance to those in exile by claiming that the whole of history is in the hands of God. This need not necessarily mean that God controls every movement of history like a puppet-master, but that God's providence is at work in, through, and with the created order. "You are my witnesses!" invites us to remember the story of God with us.

These verses belong to a larger literary unit that represents an effort to come to terms with a troubling aspect of Israel's past: the conquest of the Canaanites. The challenge of this task is great because the events have been previously described as the will of God. It is a task with which we may be uncomfortably familiar if we have had the courage to examine our own past with a critical eye. The approach taken is a common one: the Canaanites are shown to be deserving of their fate.

The verses chosen for the lection sidestep this larger polemic and focus instead on the sovereignty and majesty of God. The more adventurous preacher could consider how we sometimes use Scripture for our own ends, or project onto God justification for our deeds. However, the verses can also stand alone as testimony to the character of God. There are times when we can so overemphasize the tender nature of God ("God is my best friend") that we lose sight of the sovereignty of God. These verses alternate between declarations of God's power (vv. 12, 17) and affirmations of God's grace (vv. 16, 18). In this way, they provide a balance of perspective, allowing God to be God, while witnessing to God's mercy toward humankind. The closing verse, "you have taught your people that the righteous must be kind," is a poignant reminder that our relationship with God extends beyond us and should be reflected in how we live with other people, for we are all in need of repentance and live in need of the "good hope" God grants to us.

The theme of God's intimate knowledge of our very being fits particularly well with the Genesis and Romans texts. For many, this is a psalm of comfort, offering assurance of God's presence, regardless. For some, it may be a fearful psalm; victims of abuse are often threatened with the words, "no matter where you go I will find you." It is important, therefore, to bear witness to the character of God, who seeks our well-being in all things and in every place.

Interspersed with prayers of supplication are testimonies to God's faithfulness, goodness, mercy, and grace. By affirming the nature and character of God, the psalmist names for us the One who hears our cries and who is able to deliver us. Verses 8-10 complement the Isaiah text as well as the Wisdom of Solomon ("There is none like you").

The thick theology of the previous lections gives way here to an abundance of evocative images: adoption as children of God, the groaning of creation, hope for what we cannot yet see. With these verses Paul is bringing full circle his narrative on the salvation of humankind: from Adam to Christ, from dying to rising, from enslavement to sin to newness of life. Paul now grounds our identity in an eschatological context, revealing his discourse to have moved from the beginning of time (creation) and covenant (Abraham) to the end of time.

Verses 12-13 serve as a conclusion ("so then") to 8:1-11, repeating in second-person plural what was described in third-person plural in 8:5-8. This has the effect of making what was abstract personal: the choice is yours. To help his audience choose, Paul, like many great composers and songwriters, borrows one of his own familiar themes in verses 14-17 (see Gal. 4:5-7). Adoption was not uncommon in the ancient world; even slaves could be adopted as heirs. The effect of Paul's words is illustrated well in Barbara Kingsolver's novel The Bean Trees. The main character, showing her new daughter her adoption certificate, explains: "This means you're my kid ... and I'm your mother, and nobody can say it isn't so. I'll keep that paper for you till you're older, but it's yours. So you'll always know who you are."2 Paul wants his audience to know who they are; the Spirit serves as their adoption certificate bearing witness that "nobody can say it isn't so."

Verses 17-18 briefly introduce the subject of suffering. Elsewhere Paul develops this theme more thoroughly (for instance, 2 Cor. 1:3-11; 11:16-33; Phil. 3:7-11). Here it is simply a reminder that to be "in Christ" means not only justification; to be led by the Spirit of God may also enjoin us to participate in suffering with Christ. Suffering, however, is recognized as a prelude to glory (salvation), and, from an apocalyptic perspective, a sign that the end is soon to be revealed. Implicit in this view is the belief that history does not simply repeat itself, but is moving toward a moment of completion. Verses 19-22 are unique in Paul, for only here does he describe the inclusion of all of creation in this act of restoration. What is particularly striking is the way in which creation is described waiting "with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God" and "groaning in labor pains" alongside of us. There is, in Paul's mind, a bond between humankind and creation as, together, they await the moment when both will obtain freedom from "bondage to decay" ("the redemption of our bodies"). This might invite reflection on the ways in which we are discovering how all of the created order is interrelated and dependent upon one another.

The lection concludes with Paul's familiar words on hope. These verses bring us back to Abraham, where the theme of hope is first introduced (see also 5:2, 4, 5). God's promise to Abraham that he would be a "father of many nations" required him to hope in that which he could not see. Just as God's promise to Abraham is being fulfilled as the Gentiles are brought to salvation, so too we are invited to hope in that which we cannot yet see: the time of redemption when all of creation will be restored.

Paul brings chapter 8 to a dramatic conclusion with words intended to bring deep comfort and encouragement. Since Paul, in Romans, is not addressing specific conflicts (in contrast to his other letters) this suggests Paul recognizes that every human life is confronted with disappointments, fears, and challenges, as are the churches to which we belong. In this lection, Paul offers three reminders of the ways in which God takes initiative on our behalf. Verses 26-27 describe how the Spirit intercedes for us in prayer. It is not that we are unworthy to approach God and therefore need intercession; rather, we often do not know what it is for which we should pray (here the NIV offers a better translation). "With sighs too deep for words" signals that these are not petty concerns, but those buried deep in our hearts. Paul says we are not on our own when we pray, but God is with us even as we search for the words to speak.

Verses 28-30 offer the assurance that whatever befalls us we belong to God. In the context of chapter 8, "all things" likely refers to the sufferings of the present time (see vv. 17-18). The "good," then, is salvation (vv. 18-25, 29-30) rather than happy outcomes or security. How we hear the language of foreknowledge and predestination will depend on our theological tradition and understanding of God. Questions to ask include: Whom among humankind does God not know? What is God's intent for humankind? What is the role of free will? The word "glorified" (doxaz) brings narrative closure to chapters 1-8; in 1:21 creation fails to glorify God; now it is God who glorifies creation (see also 15:6, 9 where the Gentiles glorify God). This language is a reminder that this is a story about relationship.

The closing verses of chapter 8 are almost overwhelming in their declaration of God's love for us. Although a description of ultimate realities, they are addressed to us as we struggle through our day-to-day realities. The litany of catastrophes in verse 35 (hardship, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril, sword) describes the worst that life on earth can muster against us. They are also a reminder of the fragility of human life, and the kinds of destruction for which we ourselves are often responsible. It is at these moments that we may feel most alone, most isolated, most forgotten. Yet Paul assures us that there is no power or principality that can separate those who are known, named, and called by God from God's love, which we have not earned, but which God has freely given to us and made known to us in Jesus Christ.

"I don't go to church because it is full of hypocrites." "I love going to church; it's the people I can't stand." "Those people are trying to ruin our church." These declarations are all too familiar to anyone engaged in congregational life. Apparently they were known to the Matthean community as well. Continuing the theme of "sowing the seed," Matthew inserts a parable that is found only in this Gospel, commonly referred to as the wheat and the tares (weeds). Material that is unique to Matthew generally points to themes that are distinct to that Gospel, and that is the case here.

The parable likens the kingdom of heaven to someone who sows good seed in his field. The word for "someone" is anthrōpos (a human being as opposed to an animal), rooting the parable firmly in a human context (although the explanation will shift the parable to a cosmic context). The man is further identified as a householder with slaves who work his fields. This is a man of some status and wealth. Like a good farmer, he sows "good seed" in his field. "Good" (kalos) describes that which is useful; here, seed that will produce good fruit, a common description in the Gospel of those who walk in the ways of God (3:10; 7:1-18; 12:33; see also 5:16; 26:10). By extension, then, it refers to those who act in a way that is praiseworthy or noble: descriptive in the ancient world of a moral life.

An enemy comes along and sows weeds among the wheat. The NIV is more accurate here, including the pronoun specifying "his" enemy. This is no random enemy; this is personal. Nonetheless, nothing more is said about the enemy, signaling that the "who" or "why" are not important to the story. It is, however, interesting to consider what Jesus has said earlier about enemies: "love your enemy" (5:43-44), and "one's foes will be members of one's own household" (10:36). The first statement may offer some insight into the householder's response to the situation. The second refers to conflict within the domestic household as a result of following Jesus, but it is not too much of a stretch to hear it as a reference to conflict within the fictive household created by brothers and sisters in Christ (see 10:25).

The extended dialogue between the householder and the slaves forms the primary focus of the parable. The householder recognizes immediately who is responsible for the weeds; nonetheless, nothing is said about destroying the enemy. Further, when asked whether the weeds should be removed, the householder instructs the slaves to let the weeds grow alongside the wheat until the harvest. This is a puzzling response. What if the weeds, like the thistles in the previous parable, choke out the wheat? The householder holds back, he says, for fear that some of the wheat might be uprooted along with the weeds. Yet this leaves the wheat, later identified as children of the kingdom (v. 38), in a precarious position: it means they must rub shoulders day by day with those who clearly do not belong in the field. Matthew's Jesus, however, has earlier declared that God sends both sun and rain on the righteous and the unrighteous alike (5:45b). If God shows such generosity of spirit, can the householder do any less?

The explanation of the parable is separated from the parable itself by two additional parables (see the discussion of the Gospel for Proper 12). These, like the parable that precedes them, pick up on the theme of growth. They may be heard as words of encouragement to a beleaguered community who feel beset upon by enemies or at least surrounded by weeds. They also testify to the presence of the kingdom although it may not always seem visible. This may perhaps be a comment on the wheat and the weeds: is the householder concerned that, at least in the early stages of growth, it may not be wholly possible to discern what is wheat and what is a weed?

Verses 34-35 mark a transition to verse 36 where Jesus leaves behind the crowds and enters a house. It is the disciples only, then, who hear the explanation of the parable of the wheat and the weeds. The crowds are left to ponder its various possible meanings. The disciple's question of Jesus is worth noting: they ask him to explain the "parable of the weeds in the field." In the parable itself, the householder is concerned about the wheat; in contrast, the disciples focus on the weeds. Jesus identifies the one who sows the wheat as the Son of Man. In Matthew, the title "Son of Man" refers to Jesus in his earthly ministry (for instance, 9:6; 11:19; 20:18), and to the one who comes to judge (for example, 10:23; 19:28; 25:31). Both roles seem to be in view here. The good seed is identified with the children of the kingdom, while the weeds are identified as the children of the evil one, the devil (vv. 38c-39). On what constitutes evil see 5:37; 15:19; 18:32; note that all of these behaviors in one way or another break the trust that is the basis for human relationships.

The harvest is a common image for the judgment that accompanies the end of the ages (see 4:12). The furnace of fire conjures up both images of destruction (Mal. 3:1) and the refiner's fire (Mal. 3:2; 1 Pet. 1:7). Just as the weeds are collected at the end of the harvest, so the Son of Man will collect out of the kingdom (that is, the whole world) "all causes of sin and all evildoers." Here the NASV (1995) offers the closer translation: "all stumbling blocks and those who commit lawlessness." The word for "stumbling blocks" is skandala, from which we get our word "scandal." It refers to those who create obstacles or place temptations in the way of others (see 16:23; 18:7). Combined with "lawlessness" it echoes Matthew 5:19: "Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven...." This verse suggests that until the judgment, stumbling blocks still have a place in the kingdom, for the time being anyway.

For the disciples, who are concerned about the weeds rather than the wheat (cf. 9:37-38), it is perhaps reassuring to know that, in the end, all causes of stumbling will be swept away. It may be so for us as well. Dependent as we are on grace, we also want to remain confident of God's justice, and, ultimately, this requires judgment. We just prefer it when it is others, rather than ourselves, who are judged. The parable of the wheat and the weeds is a reminder that, until the judgment comes, we all grow up together, side by side.