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July 30, 2000
I Corinthians 3:1-9 The American poet Robert Frost wrote: "May something always go unharvested, May much stay out of our stated plan, Apples, or something forgotten and left So smelling their sweetness would be no theft." Frost's poem was inspired by his experience of walking one autumn day in New England and smelling something pleasant, fresh in the air. He looked over a stone wall to find out what it was and where it came from, and discovered that there was an apple orchard. The apples of one of the trees had not been picked but simply fallen and lay ungathered in the grass. Unharvested and undisturbed, they had begun to turn themselves into cider. It was their fragrance, the smell of the unharvested apples, which the poet had caught: "May something always go unharvested, May much stay out of our stated plan, Apples, or something forgotten and left So smelling their sweetness would be no theft." God has allowed us to accomplish much this past three and a half years at Community Church. I am content because of what we have done, but I am equally content to leave just because all of our goals have not been realized. We have not harvested all the apples! And we never should set as our goal to harvest all. We should leave some harvesting for others. Paul wrote: "I PLANTED, APOLLOS WATERED, BUT GOD GAVE THE GROWTH." Our faith rewards us with the same insight as the poet: we can be grateful that something may always go unharvested. We may be as grateful for the unharvested as for that which we have gathered in and call our achievements. I. Some things will be unharvested by necessity. This is a thought, which jars with contemporary optimism. The late Frank Sinatra sang "You and me, we wanted it all" and "I did it all, my way." Great songs you gave us, Frankie, songs full of secular confidence which maintain we can have it all and now. But my experience is that we can't have it all; for the most part we cannot have both/and but must choose either/or. And we can never harvest all that we think we should bring in. There are always more books to read than I can ever read (though with a year in London I plan to read more than four years in Hong Kong!) There are more places to visit than I could visit (though a reason for this sabbatical is to travel more). And even with more leisure ahead I know there will be music I will never hear and friendships which will never ripen. We don't have enough time to go everywhere, read everything and know everybody. But then, you don't need a preacher to tell you this. Any competent physician will tell you that it is good for your heart, and will reduce your chances of having a stroke, if you reconcile yourself to life's unfinishedness. I plan to get used to more of life's unfinishness. Lance Armstrong, the winner of the Tour de France bike race for the second year in a row, was asked if he would not go for a third win next year to equal the three wins of his fellow American, Greg LeMonde. Martin responded: "I don't know if I have the motivation to try to win again because I now have a wonderful family that ultimately I want to spend a lot more time with." Armstrong is making choices, knowing that even after you have won it all you and done it his way, one still can't have it all. The golfing legend Nick Faldo commented of another great athletic achiever, Tiger Woods: "We have to appreciate that to do what Tiger has done, you have to give up doughnuts at age l5." Giving up doughnuts reminds me of the ambitious yuppie who finally decided to take a vacation, booking himself on a cruise. Alas, the boat sank and he wound up stranded on an isolated island with no other people, no supplies…nothing. His life's options were abruptly reduced to only bananas and coconuts. After about four months, he is lying on the beach one day when the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen rows up to the beach. In disbelief he asks her: "Where did you come from? How did you get here?" "I rowed from the other side of the island," she says. "I landed here when my cruise ship sank." "Amazing!" the yuppie says. "That's how I ended up here. But you were really lucky to have a rowboat wash up with you." "Oh, this?" replied the woman. " I made the rowboat out of raw material that I found on the island; the oars were whittled from gum tree branches; I wove the bottom from palm branches; and the sides and stern came from a Eucalyptus tree." "But that's impossible," stammered the man. "You had no tools or hardware. How did you manage?" "Oh, that was no problem," replies the woman. "On the south side of the island, there is a very unusual strata of alluvial rock exposed. I found that if I fired it to a certain temperature in my kiln, it melted into forgeable ductile iron. I used that for tools and used the tools to make the hardware." The guy is stunned. "Let's row over to my place," she says. After a few minutes or rowing, she docks the boat at a small wharf. As the man look onto shore, he nearly falls out of the boat. Before him is a stone walk leading to an exquisite bungalow painted in blue and white. While the woman ties up the rowboat with an expertly woven hemp rope, the man can only stare ahead, dumbstruck. As they walk into the house, her beautiful body swaying with each step, she says casually, "it's not much, but I call it home. Sit down please; would you like to have a drink?" "No thank you, he says, still dazed. "Can't take any more coconut juice." "It's not coconut juice," the woman replies. "I have a still. How about a Pina Colada?" Trying to hide his amazement, the man accepts, and they sit down on her couch to talk. After the have exchanged their stories, the woman announces, "I'm going to slip into something more comfortable. Would you like to take a shower and shave? There is a razor… No longer questioning anything, the man goes into the bathroom. There in the cabinet is a razor made from a bone handle. Two shells honed to a hollow ground edge are fastened onto its end, inside of a swivel mechanism. "This woman is amazing," he muses. "What's next?" When he returns, she greet him wearing nothing but vines and a shell necklace -strategically positioned - and smelling faintly of gardenias. She beckons for him to sit down next to her. "Tell me," she begins suggestively, moving closer to him, "we've been out here for a very long time. You've been lonely I've been lonely, There's something I'm sure you really feel like doing right about now, something you've been longing for all these months?" She stares into his eyes." He can't believe what he's hearing. His heart begins to pound. He's truly in luck: "you mean…", he gasps, "..I can actually check my e-mail from here?" Part of my gratitude that the harvest is never completed is because I know there is much in me and you which will never come to an end. Will we run out of imagination, or interest, or creativity, or smiles, or love? We can't exhaust our humor, our feelings, our love. Not in this life and certainly not in the next. As a kid said: "Love goes on even when we stop breathing and we pick it up when we get to heaven."
II. Something in our life should remain unharvested for the sake of generosity: There was a merciful law in Israel that directed the reapers of a field of corn, and the gatherers of vineyard grapes, not to gather every last ear or pluck every bunch of grapes. Part of the harvest must remain unharvested so that the gleaners - the poor, the widows, the strangers - could find something to refresh and nourish them. To leave something unharvested is moral mercy. We ought to rejoice in leaving something unharvested because it shows consideration and caring toward others. In that regard the obsessional pursuit of the 70 and 80 hours work week by the yuppies and wannabe millionaires is a moral absurdity and scandal while a billion of the earth's humblest have no work week whatever. Gratitude for the unharvested is a recognition that others have their place, their needs, and their gifts to bring to life's great harvest. We don't need to pick all the flowers, or plan all the future, or even convert every soul. When we leave some goods and tasks and excitement for others, we are simply doing what God does always for each of us. As Paul said, God gives us the growth, finally God gives us our achievements. So why should we not be similarly generous with others. Let others have their chance at accomplishments. The harvests of life are meant to be shared, not monopolized by the few. God has always been generous to us; always leaving us more than plentitude to pluck and gather. Why should we not leave some unharvested for others in gratitude for the generosity of God.
III. Let something go unharvested for continuity. In our text from l Corinthians the apostle Paul reminds his fellow Christians that while he had played an important part in their awakening and growth, he hadn't done everything. Others had played important roles, too. Paul had sowed the seeds of faith, but Apollos had watered them and, of course, it was God who made them grow. Our gifts while immense are limited; our limited gifts leave room for the gifts of others. Limited like our own, their gifts are nonetheless different from our own and will complement what we do. By leaving something for someone else to do we allow them their part in the continuing work of the Kingdom. God's bounty is endless and God's creative work is not complete. The Kingdom still comes. All creation and the Church still yearn for the return of the Christ. This incompleteness means there is still work for others to do. God has not closed the page against all future music; he had not put away the brushes or covered up the canvases; he has not planted all the tomatoes, nor made all the fragrances, nor harvested all the souls. God makes His world through persons who themselves are in the process of being made. All are in the process of formation and to leave something unharvested gives room and place to others to express themselves; we need to make room, and gladly, for others to use their gifts in the great harvest of life. There is a continuity to God's creative work in many may contribute and all of us are debtors. Our success is possible only by the hard work of others. We value the music of famous composers like Beethoven and Mahler and Lizst but they in turn were indebted to unknown composers who gave them the rustic melodies and folk tunes which they enveloped into great symphonic themes.
IV. We have said that we must, and should, let something go unharvested by reason of necessity, generosity and continuity. Finally, something should go unharvested because of life's ambiguity. One of the greatest of Jesus' parables is that of the wheat and the tares. In it, the landowner's men found that even though their master had sown only good seed, wild grasses and weeds sprung up among the wheat. What were they do; weed out the wild grasses, the darnel? The landlord instructed them not to do so. He issued a warning against weeding, for in the early stages of growth darnel and wheat are hard to distinguish, and in the later stages hard to separate. Premature weeding would mean that much of the harvest would be lost. Better to allow them to grow together until harvest when separation would be easier. This parable suggest that there is ambiguity in many events and we cannot be absolutely clear about the good and the bad. We often cannot decide about some of our experiences whether they are a curse or a blessing, before they have run their course and come to fulfillment. That is why judgement before the end is always premature. Judgement has to do with deciding the meaning of events and it is best to leave ultimate meaning to God. The good harvest can often be valued only in retrospect. Certainly one of the strengths of a community church which is progressive in its attitude about the scriptures and our doctrine, and optimistic about the bounty of God's gifts to all peoples, is that we know the wisdom of leaving ultimate judgement to God. We know we are presumptuous when we rush to judge others. We also know that at the last judgement about who is right and who is wrong, there will be cries of astonishment from those who are kept out, and gasps of incredulity from many who are invited in by the Lord. Kierkegaard, the Danish theologian, once said that life must be lived forwards, but can only be understood backwards. What happens to us is often ambiguous and if we harvest too soon, or think we have harvested everything, we may foreclose God showing us the final truth of things. We are wise never to judge a drama, a story, nor a life before its' end. The world premiere of Arthur Miller's play "Death of a Salesman" took place on February l0, l949, in Philadelphia. Miller, who was in the audience, said "the curtain came down and nothing happened. People sat there a good two or three minutes, then somebody stood up with his coat. Several men in the audience looked totally helpless. Many women had handkerchiefs over their faces. It was silent and sober like a funeral. I didn't know whether the show was dead or alive. The cast was backstage wondering what happened. Nobody pulled the curtain up for them to come on stage. Finally, someone thought to applaud, and then the theatre went wild." Even when the curtain comes down there may remain ambiguity. The late and great British evangelist, Leslie Newbiggin, said that "all our greatest achievements are destined to go down into the chasm of death and become part of the rubble of history. Or if they should remain at the time of Christ's return, they will be subject to God's discriminating judgement." "Ultimately", Newbiggin said, "our hope lies not in the quality or permanence of our achievements but in Christ who has passed through the chasm of death and come up on the other side in his resurrection." The significance of our work and the way its ambiguity is finally clarified lie not in its success or achievement as judged by worldly standards but in its relationship to the risen Lord. The American Christian thinker Reinhold Niebuhr sums my thankfulness for the unharvested this way: "Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in a lifetime, therefore we must be saved by hope. Nothing which is true or beautiful or good makes complete sense in any immediate context of history, therefore, we are saved by faith. Nothing we can do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone, therefore, we are saved by love." May something always go unharvested in your lives and in the corporate life of our dear church. And may we be saved by our Lord Christ whose work is faith, whose gift is hope and whose nature is love. Note: I am indebted to Dr. R. Maurice Boyd of The City Church New York whose fine sermon of some years back "Unharvested for Thanksgiving" gave me the inspiration for my message.
Pastor Gene Preston
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The Rev. Gene R.Preston14th Floor, Blk 36, Lower Baguio Villa Tel : 25516161 Fax: 25512114E-mail : gpreston@netvigator.com |
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