‘Tis the season for the Tour de France. This is the legendary bicycle race throughout some of Europe’s most dramatically beautiful countryside. And just as the scenery is breathtaking, so is the riding. About 100 cyclists, at peak athletic ability, ride for twenty-one days, averaging around 100 miles each day, at speeds of 30 to 40 miles per hour. For the uninitiated, these are jaw dropping statistics, only achievable by the best of the best. Today is the final stage of the 2023 tour and early this morning (our time) riders made their way down the Champs-Élysées in Paris to a fantastic finish.
Yes. I’m a fan. And not just because of the cycling, but also because watching the tour is kind of like taking an extended Rick Steves guided romp through all the little hamlets and hot spots of rural France. And the armchair athlete can sip his or her espresso and embrace some of the European joie de vivre surrounding this sport. Admittedly, this is not Razorback football, but there are some parallels. There are crashes. People get hurt. Concussions are commonplace. There are tailgating parties. And both cyclists and football players wear spandex. I also think there is a Gospel parallel here, which we will get to in a minute, but first, if you’ll go with me, just a little more set-up.
One thing characteristic of road cycling races like the Tour de France is that for the majority of the race time, the riders are all bunched up close together, almost touching one another. They do this so they can draft, or ride in each others slip stream. Kind of like geese flying in the shape of a “V.” Being a part of the group is more efficient and aerodynamic than riding alone. It requires less energy to be part of the crowd. They call this group the peloton.That word may sound familiar, having been made popular by the stationary exercise bike everyone bought during COVID. The word, though, literally means, “small ball.”
Now, during the race there will be a few individuals who will try and break free of the peloton and shoot ahead in an effort to win the race. This is where the strategy comes in; the timing of a break-away is key. Nine times out of ten, when an individual shoots ahead, sometime later the peloton will catch up and he will be assimilated back into group, and often even spit out the back, forced to try and catch up, possibly resulting in an elimination from the race if he can’t. So breaking away from the group is risky business. It can be demoralizing to know that the second you step out on your own, the group wants to pull you right back in.
Matthew’s account of the parable of the weeds among the wheat is set in the midst of a number of jarring parables geared to goose people into breaking free from the peloton, so to speak. Both the parable of the mustard seed and the parable of the yeast are nearby, introducing the the idea that the Gospel, the Good News, is a catalyst for transformation. Jesus wants his hearers to break away from the standard way of thinking, and to live differently. To be bearers of the Gospel. To be that catalyst for change in the world.
The parable of the weeds and wheat offers one such example of how we might view things differently. Particularly, how one might abandon the common view that good and evil are easily distinguished from each other.
The wheat (the good) and the weeds (the bad) grow side by side, and often intertwine, you see, and attempting to distinguish between the two as they grow is more difficult than one might imagine. Attempting to cut out the weeds can result in collateral damage. Taking this view does not mean that one sets aside the discernment of right or wrong altogether, or stops working toward a just and righteous world, rather, it introduces room for a bit more humility in our lives, room for concepts like forgiveness and mercy to guide our way. If the weeds and the wheat (the bad and the good) grow together, might that mean that there is a bit of each in all of us? How might we treat our enemies differently if we knew there might be some wheat where others only see weeds? What might this view change about how we see ourselves? Radical stuff in a black and white world.
A hearer of this parable can imagine the difficulty the first disciples must have encountered when trying to spread this good, but strange, news. In Acts we learn that they were sent out two by two and encouraged to “shake the dust from their sandals” when rejected. How many times can a disciple do that, though, before throwing up their hands in defeat and, once again, becoming part of the pack and going along to get along? It’s easier, after all, to be in the crowd. You can move through life more efficiently, more aerodynamically, so to speak.
Back to the Tour de France for just a moment. The peloton, that fast moving crowd of cyclists, is a fascinating animal. It instinctively wants to catch the individual who breaks away, but interesting things can happen when the break-away cyclist refuses to be caught. That strong, persevering individual can actually alter the shape of the peloton. After an unsuccessful chase, the peloton can begin to break up a bit and lengthen as other individual cyclists and teams try to catch the leader. Suddenly being part of the crowd is no longer attractive when someone gets out front and demonstrates that successfully breaking away is indeed a possibility, and that greater things lie over the horizon.
So, if an individual can indeed altar the crowd, how might we change our lives today in ways that inspire others to follow our lead? We don’t have to be elite cyclists. We don’t even need to know how to ride a bike. As Christians, though, we do know how to be in relationship, to love our neighbors as ourselves. In a divided world such as this, how about, for example, we refuse to walk away when we disagree with our neighbor and insist on dialogue instead. How about we look for the wheat where others only see weeds. And if we stick to it long enough, hold the course despite the temptation to fall back to peloton’s pace, we might just begin to see others break out as well.
What started two thousand years ago with one very special individual breaking away from the crowd has resulted in many massive societal and cultural shifts. And today, as we gather as a crowd in this building, the Gospel reminds us not to get too comfortable, to remember that the Christian message is at its most valuable when it comes alive in the world outside as a beacon of hope to those lost in the peloton.
Might the break-away riders in today’s Tour de France stage be capturing the spirt of the Gospel? How might the world be transformed when we, followers of Jesus, choose to do the same?
Proper 11, Year A