A Homily for the 16th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Sunday, July 19, 2026
Wisdom 12:13, 16-19; Psalm 86:5-6, 9-10, 15-16; Romans 8:26-27; Matthew 13:24-43
Audio Recording
Sometimes the hardest question of faith is not, “Does God exist?” It is, “If God is good, why does He allow evil to remain?” We ask that question whenever we watch the evening news. We ask it when we see violence, injustice, or betrayal. We ask it when someone we trusted disappoints us. We ask it when we look honestly into our own hearts and discover that the battle between good and evil is not only out there—it is also within us.
That is the question Jesus addresses in today’s Gospel. He tells the story of a farmer who sows good seed in his field. But while everyone is asleep, an enemy comes and scatters weeds among the wheat. When the servants discover the problem, they immediately ask, “Do you want us to go and pull them up?” It sounds like the obvious thing to do. If there are weeds, remove them. But the master surprises them. “No. Let them grow together until harvest. In gathering the weeds you may uproot the wheat along with them.”
The first reading from the Book of Wisdom helps us understand why the master answers this way. Although God is all-powerful, He judges with clemency and governs us with great lenience. Then comes one of the most beautiful lines in all of Scripture: “You have taught your people that those who are just must be kind.” We often associate strength with power, control, and winning. God reveals His strength differently. His greatness is seen in His mercy. His justice is never separated from His love. Because He is all-powerful, He has no need to prove His power by acting harshly. Instead, He patiently works to bring sinners to repentance.
That changes the way we hear today’s Gospel. The master is not ignoring the weeds. He knows they are there. He simply knows something the servants do not. If they rush to pull up the weeds, they may also destroy the wheat. Their impatience could damage the very crop they hope to save. How often are we like those servants? We want God to fix everything immediately. We want Him to remove evil from the world, solve every problem in the Church, heal every broken relationship, and eliminate every weakness in our own lives. Instead, God often works more slowly than we would like—not because He is indifferent and not because He is powerless, but because He is patient.
Here’s the heart of the matter:
God sees the harvest while we are still looking at the weeds.
That has always been His way. Consider St. Peter. On the night of Jesus’ Passion, Peter denied even knowing the Lord. If we had been standing in the courtyard that night, we might have concluded that Peter had failed beyond recovery. Jesus saw something different. After the Resurrection, He did not discard Peter. He forgave him. He entrusted him with the care of His flock. The man who had denied Christ became the shepherd who would one day lay down his life for Christ. Jesus saw the harvest while everyone else was looking at the weeds.
Perhaps that is the lesson many of us need today. It is easy to become discouraged. We see scandals in the Church. We see divisions in our nation. We worry about children and grandchildren who have drifted from the faith. We struggle with habits we thought we would have conquered years ago. The temptation is to focus on the weeds. Jesus invites us instead to look at the Divine Farmer. He has not abandoned His field.
In fact, Jesus immediately follows the parable of the weeds with two more parables that tell us exactly what God is doing while we are waiting. The Kingdom of Heaven is like a mustard seed. It begins almost invisibly, yet it grows into a great shrub where the birds of the air find shelter. The Kingdom is also like yeast mixed into flour. You cannot see it working, yet slowly and quietly it transforms the entire batch of dough. Those parables are not interruptions; they complete the lesson. While we are anxiously asking why God has not acted more dramatically, Jesus reminds us that His Kingdom almost always grows quietly. Grace usually works beneath the surface before it becomes visible. Transformation often takes place long before anyone recognizes it.
St. Paul expresses that same mystery in today’s second reading. Even when we do not know how to pray as we ought, the Holy Spirit intercedes for us according to the will of God. Even when we cannot see what God is doing, His Spirit is already at work. That should fill us with hope. Perhaps the family member who has wandered from the faith is not as far from God as we imagine. Perhaps the person who has wounded us is still capable of repentance. Perhaps the parts of ourselves that seem slow to change are already being transformed by grace in ways we cannot yet see.
And so I’ll say it again:
God sees the harvest while we are still looking at the weeds.
That does not mean we ignore evil. Jesus is clear that there will be a harvest, a judgment, and a final separation between good and evil. Mercy never cancels justice. But until that day, our calling is not to appoint ourselves as inspectors of everyone else’s field. Our calling is to remain faithful disciples, allowing Christ to cultivate the soil of our own hearts.
Whenever we approach the altar and receive the Eucharist, the Divine Farmer continues that work within us. Christ does not simply forgive us; He nourishes us with His own life. Like the mustard seed, His grace continues to grow. Like the yeast, it quietly transforms us from within. Week after week, often in ways we cannot see, He is making us into the people He created us to be.
So this week, when you are tempted to become discouraged by the weeds—in the world, in the Church, in your family, or even in your own heart—remember this: the Divine Farmer has not abandoned His field. His Spirit is still at work. His Kingdom is still growing. His grace is still transforming lives.
Never forget:
God sees the harvest while we are still looking at the weeds.
One day, the harvest will reveal what His patient love has been accomplishing all along.
God bless you.