Genesis 28:10-19

Matthew 13:24-30, 36-43

“The Bible as Literature?!? Is that seriously what you want your last college course to be?!? I don’t know if I can think of a worse way to spend a summer!” Robby teased, stretching out on the grass under the shade of an enormous weeping willow tree. The humidity of the previous week had finally broken and a breeze whispered through the long, thin branches. The lake spread out in front of them like endless possibility, the opposite shore barely visible. Tiny, bright diamonds danced on the water as the sun was starting its journey down, toward the horizon.

It was perfect.

Next to him sat Jinny, his friend from his short stint in college - actually, his only real friend from his short stint in college. She sat cross-legged, an open Bible in her lap.

“Not much to choose from in summer session number 2,” she said, leaning over to take a closer look at the syllabus laying next to her on the ground. “I promised myself I’d be done this summer, and it’s really the only elective that fit with my work schedule.”

“Besides,” she looked up at him with a smile, “it’s actually kinda interesting.”

Jinny was pretty, no doubt about it. Back when they were in college together, Robby often wondered why she didn’t have more guys hanging around her. They had English 102 together. Who was their professor? He couldn’t remember. But, he remembered exactly how Jinny looked, seated two rows over and one row in front of him. He remembered the wisps of hair that slipped out from her ponytail and lay lightly on her neck. He remembered how she would chew on her pen when she was concentrating. He remembered how, when she smiled at him, looking right in his eyes, he felt like he might cry... every time.

Even today.

Robby looked out on the sparkling lake. “Whatever,” he sighed.

“Edmonds started off the first class with his favorite Psalm. Did you know that they used to be songs? But, no one knows the melodies so all we have left are these poems? Some of it’s pretty gritty... bones ground to dust, a bed of tears, hearts melting like wax... you’d actually like it.”

“Which one was it?” She looked over the syllabus for that day’s class. “Oh yeah. 139. Ok, check it out: ‘For it was you who formed my inward parts; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.’ Isn’t it awesome?”

Robby had been used to listening to Jinny reading stuff to him. When he was actually a student there, she’d burst into his dorm room saying, “Ok, check it out,” and just start reading some quote or poetry or even something from the school newspaper. And, when she was done, she’d be like, “Isn’t it awesome?”

The truth is, Robby would have listened to Jinny read just about anything. But, the stuff she read was always pretty cool... usually things he had never heard of, or even thought about before. But, what struck Robby the most was how into it she was... like each time, it was the most amazing discovery ever.

He had never been so excited about anything... except maybe that time he bought the guitar and taught himself to play that song from summer camp. Wow, he hadn’t thought about that in a long time.

Robby sighed, “Wasn’t all that about being known in your mother’s womb on one of those signs that the Pro-Lifers used at orientation? Remember that time they took sidewalk chalk and wrote bible verses all over campus? You’re not becoming one of them are you?”

“Oh, shut up,” she giggled. “I just never read any of this before.”

“You never went to Sunday School?” Robby asked. “We had to memorize verses all the time when I was a kid.”

“We never went to church,” said Jinny. "My grampa was some kind of traveling preacher or something. He traveled all over. But, I guess he and my dad had some big fight when Dad was just out of high school. I don’t know what it was, but afterward, they never spoke a word to each other as long as my grampa was alive. He died when I was two, so I don’t remember anything. Dad won’t talk about it, but Mom said it was pretty awful. ‘Nothing is so important that you can’t talk to your family.’ she always says.”

“Sounds like my mom,” Robby said. Robby had left home two weeks before. As the whole town, including his mom, gathered to at the park for the 4th of July fireworks, he emptied the cash from the envelope in the cupboard and hopped the Greyhound headed north. He spent some time on a friend’s couch in the city, but they kicked him out when he smoked their entire stash. He decided to hitch-hike back to the college he once went to. He hadn’t lasted long there when he was a student - he couldn’t be bothered with the classes - but he managed to have some seriously crazy fun there. And, even after he flunked out, we would occasionally head that way when he got word of a party.

Jinny was the last person he expected to find when he showed up on campus this time. But, that’s how these things work sometimes.

“And, you haven’t called your mom since you left?” Jinny asked him. “I couldn’t do that to my mom. It would kill her.”

“Whatever. She’ll get over it,” said Robby. “I almost called my Uncle Roy the other day, though. He’s pretty cool. Actually, you would really like him with your new hobby. Ever since he retired last year, he’s reading his bible every day. You two can be bible-thumpers together!” Robby laughed.

“Stop it,” said Jinny laughing, but Robby noticed that look in her eyes... that look when she’s totally into something. “Seriously, though. I was surprised at how good the stuff we read in class was. We’ve got to read a ton of it for homework, and analyze it for structure and narrative content and rhetorical strategies and a bunch of other things. There’s, like, two papers every week.”

“Wow. Sounds great,” Robby deadpanned. He never understood why English majors were so technical. It took all the fun out of reading.

“Some of it is also pretty crazy, too,” Jinny said. “Like, check out one of the readings for our homework. Jesus is telling a parable to the people. That’s like a story that has a double meaning...”

“I know what a parable is, jeez.” said Robby.

“Oh, I forgot, you’re such a master of the sacred arts,” Jinny giggled. “Anyway, there’s this farmer and he plants all these good wheat seeds in his field. But, in the middle of the night, an enemy comes and plants weeds in the farmer’s fields.”

“Devious plan,” said Robby. “I like this enemy already.”

“You would,” Jinny said. “Anyway, when the plants started coming in, the farmer’s servants saw the weeds coming up and told him. ‘An enemy did it,’ the farmer says. ‘Should we pull up the weeds?’ say the servants. ‘No,’ says the farmer. ‘If you pull up the weeds, you’ll uproot the wheat. Let them grow up together and at harvest time throw the weeds on the fire and put the wheat in the barn.”

“Woah, that’s profound. Thou shalt burneth the weeds and saveth the wheat!” laughed Robby.

“Ha ha,” said Jinny, “but check out how Jesus explains it. He’s like, ‘The farmer is me, and the good seeds are my children in the world. The other seeds are children of the devil. The harvest is the end of time, and the ones reaping in the fields are my angels. And,’ listen to this, ‘they will collect all causes of sin and all evildoers.’”

“And totally throw them in the fire!” Robby jumped in.

“Exactly,” said Jinny, “‘Where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’”

“Oh, yeah,” said Robby, “Good ol’ weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

“Grrr,” Jinny did her best mock gnashing impression. “But, don’t forget the wheat. They’re the righteous, right?. They shine like the sun!”

“The righteous,” Robby smirked, “they always get the good deal.”

“It’s good to know there’s some justice in this world,” joked Jinny.

“Seriously, though. I can’t believe you’re all into this,” Robby said, looking away.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on... all that fire and hell and stuff. It’s all a bunch of crap. Why would anyone want to believe in this Jesus - who is supposed to be about love, right? - if he’s gonna send angels to throw people into hell to burn?!?”

“God, Robby, sometimes you’re so stupid. Haven’t you ever heard of a metaphor?”

“Ok, maybe you haven’t been to church, but I have. Those people believe this stuff. It isn’t a metaphor to them,” Robby was getting madder. “How can someone have a brain and still believe that junk?!? Jinny, you’re too smart for all this.”

“Robby, I was just gonna say...”

“You’re starting to sound like my mom. She lives her whole life following the rules - trying to be righteous - waiting for that stupid harvest when Jesus and his angels will come and save her from all the evil ones... from people like me.”

“Robby, maybe it’s not like that at all. Maybe Jesus really is about love... maybe those angels would come and see that you and me and the rest of us really aren’t so bad at all. Maybe that fire will burn away all the crap that is inside all of us... all the hurt and the stupid things we do.”

“Whatever,” Robby looked down.

"Maybe it’ll get rid of whatever the hell it is that makes you treat people like crap," said Jinny, "You could have at least called when you left. Or emailed or texted or something.”

Robby turned around to see that Jinny was the one crying now.

He looked out on the lake as she wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“You should call your mom,” she said.

They sat, silently, watching the sun inch toward the horizon. It was huge and blood red.

“Check it out,” said Jinny.

The water was a mirror of the sky, both ablaze at the same time.

“Awesome,” said Robby.

They remained silent as the color slowly faded. All around them, fireflies began to float up from the grass... brief, beautiful sparkles lighting up the darkness.

Amen.