Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
March 6, 2022 – First Sunday in Lent
Scripture: Deuteronomy 26:1-11
I suspect that we have one or two gardeners in this congregation… maybe even some farmers or the descendants of farmers. Maybe you have a large garden, maybe you have a houseplant or two – you are still a gardener.
Right now, it is too early to plant any seeds outside. We need to wait for the snow to melt and the ground to thaw and the ground to dry out before we even think of beginning to work the land. On this first Sunday in March, it’s probably even too early to begin seeds inside to be transplanted outside later this spring.
When you have a garden this far north on the planet, we have to pay attention to the weather and the forecast and the ground conditions and get the timing of our planting and harvesting just right.
Now I learned how to garden when I was living on the equator, and it is a whole different game there. The temperature was pretty consistent for 12 months of the year, and the hours of daylight didn’t change either – 12 hours of daylight and 12 hours of darkness no matter what month it was. But there were still seasons – the seasons are determined by the rainfall. There was what was called the short rainy season from early September until early December when it rained 3 or 4 mornings a week; followed by a short dry season that lasted until around this time of year. Then was the long rainy season where it rained almost every morning right through until early June, and then the long dry season lasted until early September where not a drop of rain would fall and the ground would turn to dust. If you wanted to have a garden, the best time to plant is just as the short rains are starting. The rain will germinate the seeds and keep your garden alive, but won’t be so heavy as to wash away your tender seedlings. And it is possible to water a garden every day through the dry season and keep your established plants alive, but the dry season isn’t the time to try and germinate seeds.
The book of Deuteronomy is set towards the end of the Israelite people’s 40 years of wandering in the wilderness. 39 years and 11 months ago, Moses led them to freedom from slavery in Egypt, and they crossed through the Red Sea, into the desert. Moses climbed Mt. Sinai, received the 10 commandments along with the rest of the 600-some-odd laws. The people complained about not having food or water, and wondered if it might be better to return to Egypt where, even though they were slaves, at least there was food to eat. They stopped trusting that God would provide for them, that God would lead them, that God would keep them safe.
It was a hard lesson for them to learn. Instead of crossing straight across the desert into the promised land – a journey that might have taken them a month or two – they had to spend 40 years wandering, learning to trust that God was with them. They weren’t able to grow food for themselves – not only were they nomadic but they were also wandering through a desert that was too dry to grow anything. But God provided manna for them to eat, along with quails; and God told Moses to strike a rock with his staff and fresh water flowed out of the rock. My Old Testament professor at AST referred to this time in the wilderness as the “Desert School” for the ancient Israelite people – they spent 40 years at this school, with their primary lesson being learning to trust in God.
And Deuteronomy is set right at the very end of those 40 years in the Desert School. They are at the edge of the Jordan River, poised to cross the river and enter the Promised Land, to cross into a land that will be flowing with milk and honey, to cross into a land of abundance. But God doesn’t want us to forget the lessons that they have learned – even though food will be easier for them to grow and to find once we have left the desert, God wants us to remember that God is still the source of all of the abundance, even if it is a less obvious way.
And so God reminds the people – once we have entered into the promised land, once we are able to grow food for ourselves again, we are to take our first fruits, the very first part of our harvest, and offer this back to God. We aren’t to offer God the leftovers of our harvest, but the very earliest harvest instead.
And this is an act of trust – when you give away the very first of the harvest, you have no way of knowing if the rest of the expected harvest is going to follow. But this is what God asks for – the first fruits – as a reminder that God is still the source of all of the harvest, even if it doesn’t take the form of manna and quail falling out of the desert sky.
Lent is sometimes considered a desert or a wilderness time in the church calendar. Instead of 40 years in the wilderness, we spend 40 days on this journey towards Easter. And like I mentioned, our theme here at Two Rivers this year is gardening our souls. This is a time when we can tend to ourselves – nurturing our connection with God, with one another, and with all of creation. It is a time when we can look at ourselves and see if there is anything in our lives getting in the way of our flourishing – maybe it is time to do a bit of weeding or pruning.
And today’s reading from Deuteronomy invites us to ask the question of ourselves – why are we doing this gardening? I think that it is important for us to remember the lessons of the Desert School – it is important to remember the source of the good seeds that we plant in our lives, and it is important to remember who empowers us to tend to those seeds. And God reminds us that we are to offer the first of our harvest, the best of the fruit of our lives, back to God who is the source of all good things.
I think that our gardening and seeds metaphor breaks down at some point. After all, a literal garden can exist on its own without being connected with others. And I can enjoy the process of gardening, even if I don’t get any harvest at all.
But at the same time, I think that there is some truth in the metaphor too. The literal garden that I plant nourishes my body and my spirit, but Deuteronomy calls me to share of my harvest with God, so that others can flourish too. And the same is true for the metaphorical seeds that I plant. These seeds nourish my soul and my well-being, but I am also called to share the fruit of those seeds with God so that others can flourish too. And in doing so, I acknowledge two things – that I haven’t gardened on my own, that God is the master gardener who is working within me by the Holy Spirit; and also that we aren’t alone, isolated creatures scattered on the planet, but that we are in community with one another and concerned for the well-being of others.
And so as we begin this Lenten journey together, my prayer is that each one of us might plant seeds in our souls, that we might nurture our connection with ourselves, with the people around us, and with God, so that the harvest will be abundant with overflowing goodness that benefits not only ourselves but the whole community of God’s creation. May it be so. Amen.
Ready for seeds
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