V/ My eyes are turned to you, O Lord.
R/ You are the joy and gladness of my youth.
V/ Grant me the Wisdom that sits by your throne.
R/ That I may dwell as a child in your presence.
Let us pray
Lord, in Your all-providential plan, You have led me to this moment to rediscover myself in Your Word and Wisdom. Aid me to make this time of meditation and prayer enriching, transforming, and liberating for my well-being and others.
SPIRITUAL GROWTH REQUIRES PATIENCE
By Fr Noel D Cunha, OCD
16th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Yr A
Wisdom 12:13, 16-19; Ps 86(85):5-6. 9-10. 15-16; Romans 8:26-27; Matthew 13:24-43
The Book of Wisdom reveals a God whose power is demonstrated not through swift judgment but through patience: “You gave your children good ground for hope that you would permit repentance for their sins.” God’s might is shown precisely in his leniency, his strength in his mercy. This runs counter to every worldly understanding of power. The world equates power with the ability to act decisively, to crush opposition, to enforce one’s will immediately. But God’s power is of another order entirely; it is the power to wait, to endure, to allow time for transformation. This divine patience finds its perfect expression in today’s Gospel parables. The farmer sows good seed, but an enemy sows weeds among the wheat. The servants, eager and well-intentioned, want to pull up the weeds immediately. But the master says: “No, if you pull up the weeds you might uproot the wheat along with them. Let them grow together until harvest.”
St Teresa of Avila would recognize this parable as a description of the human soul. We are fields where good and evil grow together. We experience holy desires alongside selfish ones, moments of deep prayer interrupted by distractions, genuine charity mixed with subtle pride. Our first instinct, like the servants, is to want immediate purification. We want the weeds gone now. We want to be saints today. But Teresa learned through painful experience that spiritual growth requires patience – both, God’s patience with us, and our patience with ourselves. In her autobiography, she describes her years of wavering between prayer and worldly concerns, between seeking God and seeking comfort. She was deeply frustrated with herself, tempted to give up prayer entirely because she felt unworthy. But God was patient. God allowed the wheat and weeds to grow together, knowing that premature uprooting would destroy the tender wheat of genuine faith that was slowly taking root. St John of the Cross, reflecting deeper, teaches that God sometimes allows us to experience our own weaknesses, our ongoing struggles with sin and imperfection, precisely so that we might learn humility and dependence on grace. If God immediately removed all our faults, we might fall into spiritual pride, thinking ourselves already perfect. The weeds keep us humble. They remind us that we are not yet the finished product, that we need God’s mercy every moment.
In the second reading, Paul says: “The Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought,” thus implying that even our prayer is imperfect, a mixture of wheat and weeds. Sometimes we pray with pure intention; sometimes our prayers are tainted by selfishness. Sometimes we pray with faith; sometimes with doubt. We do not even know how to pray properly. But here is the consolation: the Spirit intercedes for us “with inexpressible groanings.” When we cannot find the words, when our prayer feels like a barren field full of weeds, the Spirit is praying within us. God, who searches hearts, knows what the Spirit means. Our imperfect prayers are heard and answered not because we pray them perfectly, but because the Spirit prays them through us. Here, we are reminded of Teresa’s teaching on the prayer of quiet, where we stop trying to produce prayers through our own effort and simply rest in God’s presence, allowing the Spirit to pray in us. John of the Cross describes contemplation as a loving awareness beyond words and concepts. Mature prayer is less about our activity and more about our receptivity to the Spirit already praying within us.
This leads us to the question: If God allows wheat and weeds to grow together in our own souls, should we not extend the same patience to others? How quick we are to judge, to condemn, to pull up what we perceive as weeds in our neighbour’s field! But Jesus warns: wait for the harvest. Only God knows which is wheat and which are weeds. Only God can separate them without damage.
This Sunday, the readings invite us to rest in divine patience. To trust that God is at work even when we cannot see it. To be patient with our own imperfections, and those of others, knowing that God allows them for our growth in humility.
Prayer
Almighty God, You are the Master of the harvest who rules with leniency rather than swift judgment. We thank You for Your immense patience with the tangled fields of our souls. When we are frustrated by our weaknesses or find ourselves unable to pray as we ought, grant us the grace to stop striving and simply rest in You. Let Your Holy Spirit intercede for us with inexpressible groanings, transforming our imperfect hearts in Your time. Amen.
Reflective Questions
- In what areas of your spiritual life or character growth are you impatiently demanding immediate perfection, forgetting that God tolerates your “weeds” to protect your tender “wheat”?
- Can you look at your recurring flaws not as failures, but as divine tools to keep you humble and dependent on grace?
- Who is the person in your life whose “weeds” you are most eager to pull up? How can you extend God’s patient, non-judgmental leniency to them this week?
Practice for the Week
Whenever you catch yourself getting distracted during prayer, or reacting in annoyance to someone else’s flaw this week, stop before you judge or despair. Take one deep breath, deliberately hand the frustration over to God, and make a conscious choice to offer a small act of kindness instead.
Phrase for Memory
“Be patient with the weeds; trust the Spirit in the weakness.”