First reading: Wis. 12:13,16–19

There is no god besides you who have the care of all, that you need show you have not unjustly condemned. For your might is the source of justice; your mastery over all things makes you lenient to all. For you show your might when the perfection of your power is disbelieved; and in those who know you, you rebuke temerity. But though you are master of might, you judge with clemency, and with much lenience you govern us; for power, whenever you will, attends you. And you taught your people, by these deeds, that those who are just must be kind; and you gave your children good ground for hope that you would permit repentance for their sins.

Second reading: Rom. 8:26–27

Brothers and sisters: The Spirit comes to the aid of our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes with inexpressible groanings. And the one who searches hearts knows what is the intention of the Spirit, because he intercedes for the holy ones according to God’s will.

Gospel: Mt. 13:24–43

Jesus proposed another parable to the crowds, saying: “The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a man who sowed good seed in his field. While everyone was asleep his enemy came and sowed weeds all through the wheat, and then went off. When the crop grew and bore fruit, the weeds appeared as well. The slaves of the householder came to him and said, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where have the weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ His slaves said to him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’ He replied, ‘No, if you pull up the weeds you might uproot the wheat along with them. Let them grow together until harvest; then at harvest time I will say to the harvesters, “First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles for burning; but gather the wheat into my barn.”’”

He proposed another parable to them. “The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed that a person took and sowed in a field. It is the smallest of all the seeds, yet when full-grown it is the largest of plants. It becomes a large bush, and the ‘birds of the sky come and dwell in its branches.’”

He spoke to them another parable. “The kingdom of heaven is like yeast that a woman took and mixed with three measures of wheat flour until the whole batch was leavened.”

All these things Jesus spoke to the crowds in parables. He spoke to them only in parables, to fulfill what had been said through the prophet: I will open my mouth in parables, I will announce what has lain hidden from the foundation of the world.

Then, dismissing the crowds, he went into the house. His disciples approached him and said, “Explain to us the parable of the weeds in the field.” He said in reply, “He who sows good seed is the Son of Man, the field is the world, the good seed the children of the kingdom. The weeds are the children of the evil one, and the enemy who sows them is the devil. The harvest is the end of the age, and the harvesters are angels. Just as weeds are collected and burned up with fire, so will it be at the end of the age. The Son of Man will send his angels, and they will collect out of his kingdom all who cause others to sin and all evildoers. They will throw them into the fiery furnace, where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth. Then the righteous will shine like the sun in the kingdom of their Father. Whoever has ears ought to hear.”

In other words

Fr. Sisoy Cellan, SVD (Nuestra Señora de los Remedios Parish, Zamboanga Sibugay)

A story is told of a tragic road accident in a small town. A pedestrian had been struck and killed, and a large crowd quickly gathered around the lifeless body. A field reporter, eager to cover the story, found himself unable to get through the sea of onlookers. Then an idea came to him. “I am the victim’s father!” he cried. “Please let me through!” The crowd, moved by compassion, stepped aside. But as he reached the body, he froze in embarrassment. The victim was not a person at all—it was a donkey.

How often we pride ourselves on being clever. Faced with obstacles, our instinct is to leap over them, go around them, or find a shortcut. We admire ingenuity and celebrate those who always seem to have the right strategy. Indeed, intelligence and resourcefulness are gifts from God. Yet there are moments when our cleverness deceives us. We become victims of our own schemes. Plans crafted merely to serve ourselves eventually expose our emptiness. Influence exercised for selfish gain ultimately destroys the one who wields it.

As children, we naturally believed that the world revolved around us. We imagined that if we simply worked hard enough and waited long enough, life would unfold according to our dreams. Age and experience, however, teach us a humbling truth. Not every effort bears fruit. Many dreams remain unfulfilled. Many sacrifices seem to go unnoticed.

Parents pour out their lives for their children, only to discover that love does not always guarantee gratitude. Children, in turn, struggle beneath expectations they can neither understand nor fulfill. Friendships fracture. Trust is betrayed. The good are sometimes overlooked while the dishonest appear to prosper. Slowly we discover that life is far more complex than we once imagined.

It is precisely into this reality that today’s Gospel speaks. Jesus tells the parable of the wheat and the weeds. Good and evil exist side by side in the same field. The servants, eager to protect the harvest, ask whether they should pull out the weeds immediately. Surprisingly, the master says no. “Let them grow together until the harvest.”

At first, this seems unreasonable. Shouldn’t evil be removed at once? Isn’t delayed justice a denial of justice? We long for God to act swiftly, to reward the righteous and punish the wicked. We ask why goodness must continue to suffer while evil appears to flourish.

Yet the wisdom of the Master reaches far beyond our impatience. Pulling out the weeds too soon might also uproot the wheat. In our haste to eliminate what appears evil, we may end up destroying what is good. Human judgment is often incomplete. What we condemn today may tomorrow become a story of conversion, healing, and grace.

The deeper truth is that the field is not only the world—it is also our own heart. Each of us carries within us both wheat and weeds. There is genuine goodness in us because we are created in the image and likeness of God. But human fragility has brought selfishness, woundedness, fears, and sins upon us. None of us is entirely wheat, and none of us is entirely weed either. The saint still struggles with temptation; the sinner still carries the image of God.

This is why Jesus teaches patience—not only with others but also with ourselves. We are often quick to label people. We reduce them to their worst mistake, their greatest weakness, or their darkest moment. Yet beneath anger may lie deep hurt. Beneath cruelty may be a frightened heart. Beneath indifference may be years of disappointment. Patience allows us to see beyond appearances. Charity enables us to believe that God’s grace is still at work where our eyes see only failure.

A fisherman once noticed a man standing quietly beside him for hours. “You’ve been watching me all this time, why don’t you try fishing yourself?” the fisherman asked. “I can’t,” the man replied. “Why not?” the fisherman again asked. “I don’t have the patience,” the man explained.

That simple exchange reveals a profound truth. Many things in life require intelligence, but the most important things require patience. Love requires patience. Raising a family requires patience. Building trust requires patience. Forgiving another person requires immense patience. Becoming the person God calls us to be demands a lifetime of patient perseverance.

It may take wisdom to recognize the wheat and the weeds within ourselves and others. But it takes grace-filled patience to live with those imperfections without losing hope. As long as the wheat remains faithful to its nature, there is still hope despite the presence of weeds. As long as there are people who choose kindness over revenge, mercy over condemnation, and forgiveness over resentment, there remains hope for the world.

That is why Jesus tells us to wait for the harvest. Patience is not passive resignation; it is active trust in God’s timing. It refuses to condemn prematurely. It leaves room for repentance, healing, and transformation. It recognizes that God is still at work in every human heart.

In the end, patience is not simply the ability to wait. It is the courage to continue loving while we wait, to continue believing while we wait, and to continue doing good while we wait. For God has been infinitely patient with us. Every day He allows the wheat and the weeds within us to grow together, never giving up on the harvest He alone can see. If God is patient with us, then surely we are called to be patient with one another.

For it is patience that protects charity, preserves hope, and allows goodness to triumph—not by force, but by the quiet, transforming power of God’s grace.