To everything there is a season it says in Ecclesiastes 3:1. For this season of Pentecost, we’ll be exploring the next eight verses of that chapter. As with most of these blog posts, I learn more about myself than expected as I write them. So, mostly this is a personal adventure that I invite you to share.
Last week, we considered how a time to be born, a time to die might apply to how our lives are being re-ordered and re-oriented both by the COVID19 pandemic and by the national protests and demands for action following the death of George Floyd, and too many others.
This week, we come to verse 2b which says there is a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted. Some translations say uproot or harvest instead of ‘pluck up’. The Hebrew word translated to plant could also mean to strike in or fix, as well as to plant. The word for uproot could also mean to exterminate or to hamstring, much more graphic and active words than simply to pluck or uproot.
We are at the equinox, the official beginning of the season of summer, this weekend. The sun is as far north as it will go this year. Gradually the days will start to shorten. The longer days give plenty of time for planting and for harvesting.
Despite, or because of, the coronavirus many are gardening. There is nothing like the freshly grown produce from your own garden, or from a farmer’s market. And that is the first thing that comes to mind when we read this verse.
We could however think of other parts of life that need planted and/or uprooted. Certainly, the social distancing of this COVID-tide has given us ample opportunity to ponder what things in our personal and corporate lives need to have deeper roots or must be ripped out and replaced with new and life-giving things. The same is true of the demands for change resulting the Black Lives Matter movement. Many have said that we are in the midst of two pandemics-the viral one and the racial one.
Life is not, and cannot, be status quo or ‘like it was before’. We are still trying to figure out how to return to activities, like church and entertainment venues, that were not given a second thought four months ago. We just went to church or the zoo or out to dinner. Now, we have to think about it. Should we risk going where there are other people? Should we wear a mask-to protect others and ourselves? Should we shake hands or hug? Should we…? Dare we…?
And yet, we see crowds of men, women, and children of all creeds and colors gathering to march for the cause of justice. They march, wearing masks (or not), because it can be more important to work to uproot the old norm than to stay home and ‘be safe’.
Planting a seed is an act of trust. You put the little thing in the ground, give it water and sun and hope something sprouts. Then you tend the seedling until it gets strong and grows leaves. Finally, you see a flower and much later fruit appears.
The same could be said of planting change. It starts with the seed of an idea. There is a tiny seed of something that could be a new idea, a new ministry, a new way of living. That seed has to be planted in receptive soil, minds that are ready to consider change and growth. You have to cultivate the seedling as it sprouts and forms leaves, which may or may not be what you expected. Finally, there is growth, there is fruit-there is, in fact, something new.
Perhaps the COVID19 pandemic, and time apart from each other, helped prepare our soul’s soil for a change of heart, for a new way of living. Maybe, we can learn to honor each other, and nature, more than we have in the past. Could we possibly learn to ‘love our neighbor as ourselves’ and see beyond the skin color, education, social status, or other labels? Can we let something new sprout, rather than clinging to the old?
