wood scraps, sea wrack and ravens

I’m nearing completion of this mini greenhouse, and the end of my 5/8”x1 ½” wood scrap pile. It’s for rooted cuttings, grafts and seedlings.

Time for a little break, and a trip to the ocean.

Earlier in the week I had been reading a story from an ancient collection of Jewish scripture commentaries called the Midrash Tanchuma.

This tale explores Leviticus 19:23, “When you come into the land and plant.”

“There is a story about the emperor Hadrian; that he was going to war and traveling with his troops to fight with a certain country for having rebelled against him. Now he found a certain old man who was planting fig saplings. Hadrian said to him, “You are an old man. [Why are you] persisting in taking the trouble to toil for others?” He said to Hadrian, “My lord king, here I am planting. If I am worthy, I shall eat of the fruit of my saplings; but if not, my children will eat.” [Hadrian] spent three years at war, and after three years he returned. What did that old man do? He took a fruit basket, filled it with the first fruits of beautiful figs, and drew near to Hadrian. He said to him, “My lord king, take these figs, for I am the same old man whom you found when you were on your way [to the war] when you said, ‘You are an old man; why are you taking the trouble to toil for others?’ See, the Holy One, blessed be He, has already found me worthy to eat some fruit from my saplings. Now this [fruit] in my fruit basket is your portion from those [saplings].”…”

I have been able to get to know people who were terminally ill, or severely impacted by chronic pain. And  they chose, as they were able, to be people who cooked food for others to enjoy, to teach others such skills as knitting or spinning, to knit sweaters for loved ones, children, and strangers, to tell stories of their life and the past, to reach out a desire for reconciliation and forgiveness, or to teach others about prayer and faith as they drew their last breaths.

So too this man confronted by a roman emperor. Knowing his day to die may not be far off, he did not let this thought keep him from generativity, wisdom and grace. He planted (prayed, thought, decided, invested, dug, planted, tended)…and even harvested for himself, the sake of others, and of heaven.

It is a challenge for people of every age, and certainly for the churches.

Does a church community grow more and more closed, more and more focused on those already here, shutting out the awareness of the reality that we are dying. Dying as persons, bodies, organizations, and old selves… And clinging to the rudiments of religious life and robotic liturgies and codes of belonging, burdensome, costly and elite conventions…still wondering why no one joins us in what we never invited them into, didn’t shape to have room for others beyond our asking or imagining…

I’m a big believer that our faith, our life, a spiritual practice, or a church with very useful walls need to things we can invite others into.

Or does a church community set about planting, working, shaping forms of life into which others may be invited, aware that they are dying, but risking to receive some joy in the present where others might also be? Does leadership and authority affirm such simple, real steps? (or misdirect or distract yearly strategy shifts toward the moral urgency du jour?)

It could happen by planting trees. It could happen in a whole lot of ways. You don’t need a consultant to give you ideas. Those ways are already part of your life. The Spirit of the risen Christ will bring a touch of eternity to help you give these to those who come after you. And you might even enjoy doing it!

Lord of all power and might, the author and giver of all good things: Graft in our hearts the love of your Name; increase in us true religion; nourish us with all goodness; and bring forth in us the fruit of good works; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God for ever and ever. Amen