Harvest Festival Deuteronomy 8: 7-18; Luke 12: 16-30

Fr James Harris

 

For the Lord your God is bringing you into a good land… a land of vines… of olive trees and honey… [where] you shall eat your fill.’

Sound familiar?!

 

Just take a moment to look around you – at the sheer beauty, goodness, abundance of this place, this land which the Lord our God has given us, in which, for whatever reason, and for however long now, he has seen fit to have us live.

Ever since we arrived here as a family at the end of August, I have been reminded just how close to the terrain of the Holy Land we are here in Greece, how similar the landscape is in this land where east meets west. Those verses from Deuteronomy could’ve been written about this place as much as about the Promised Land. And, in one sense, of course, they are written about this land and about every piece of land – because as much as they are describing a specific geographical location to which the people of God were being led at that point in history, they are also describing in universal terms the type of relationship, the covenant God has made with his Creation as a whole.

And that covenant, as the writer of Deuteronomy goes on to explain, is confirmed in each generation, even today, just as it was originally with our ancestors. And it is a covenant which balances on the one hand God’s abundant goodness to his Creation, and the dignity afforded to humankind in particular; and on the other, a proper sense of humility on our part and an acknowledgement of our very significant responsibilities, corporately, as the human race, as a result.

 

A proper sense of humility and a shared responsibility are our part of the bargain – and I want to think about both this morning.

***

Humility is not always an easy virtue to understand or cultivate. In fact it’s often misunderstood and false versions are cultivated which are far from attractive. I find the 8th Psalm helpful where the Psalmist puts it like this:

 

‘When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,

the moon and the stars which you have established:

what are human beings the you are mindful of them,

mortals that you care for them?

 

‘Yet you have made them a little lower than God,

and crowned them with glory and honour.

You have given them dominion over the works of your hands,

you have put all things under their feet…’

 

Back in Bristol, our church had the words of the Sanctus, the song of the angels, inscribed around the vault of the sanctuary roof – Holy, holy, holy, Lord God almighty, heaven and earth are full of your glory.

I used to like getting groups of children, and adults too if they were up for it, to lie on their backs on the floor in the sanctuary, with their eyes closed, to really feel the cold stone tiles on their backs and to connect with the ground – the humus, the essence of the earth or soil, from which derives the word humility. There is no doubt that we are the stuff the earth, I would tell them, formed from the very dust of the ground.

 

But then, I would get them to open their eyes and look up and see the light streaming through the clerestory windows, the song of heaven swirling around just above their heads, almost within touching distance.

 

This is our place too! We are without doubt the stuff of the earth but God has also made us little lower than the angels, has crowned us out of all Creation and given us a special relationship within touching distance of him in which everything we need is provided but in which also we have a very special role as co-workers, stewards, carers. We get to work with and for God in the family business!

 

This has been the story of the relationship God desired with his people from the outset – in Eden, Adam and Eve were bestowed the dignity of a close relationship wth God, walking and talking with him in the garden, tending the earth on his behalf and harvesting every good thing they needed. It is the sort of relationship God wants to restore us to for good. In this place today, and in our Eucharist, week by week we get a marvellous glimpse of it.

But it is just a glimpse because we know that the world is not like this for most of our experience. There is a sting in the tail of the covenant which keeps it real and verses 10 and 11 of our reading make it clear:

 

v10 – ‘You shall eat your fill and bless the Lord your God for the good land he has given you.’

 

v11 – ‘Take care that you do not forget the Lord your God, by failing to keep his commandments…

 

Skip forward several verses through all the examples of things we so easily forget about God’s goodness to us, the way he had led and guided us for our benefit, brought us through the wilderness, the other sources of help and provision we have looked to instead off him, and then, just past the end of the passage we heard today – here is the dreadful punchline:

 

v19 – ‘I solemnly warn you today that you shall surely perish.’

 

Eat your fill and bless…forget and perish.

 The rich man in the parable Jesus tells demonstrates this perfectly: abundant provision is his but does he bless the Lord for the good land he has been given? No. He forgets the Lord, the source of his provision, focuses on his own feasting. And he perishes.

 

Something goes terribly wrong in our special relationship, our covenant with God, when we don’t recognise our dependence, own our humility, take hold of our rightful, wonderful place in the order of Creation and do our bit to care for it, carry out the job God gave us as stewards.

So far so straightforward. Eat your fill and bless. Forget and perish. Simples.

 

Except it’s not, is it?

 

There is indeed plenty of perishing going on in the world. Starvation, pollution, inequality, the life-changing impact of climate change, need of every kind.

 

But here, we need to pause for a moment to clarify a couple of things – because from what I’ve said so far it would be easy to fall into the trap of what is sometimes known as the prosperity gospel – that God rewards with his favour and provision (often in the form of cold hard cash to be spent on houses and jets and yachts) those who are faithful. And if you don’t have that favour, the message goes, you don’t have enough faith or you’re hiding away too much unconfessed sin. Must try harder.

 

I don’t think it takes a rocket scientist to look a those most in need in our world to work out that lack of faith is not the problem. In fact, it seems to me that the people suffering most from pollution and injustice and poverty in our world are far from faithless; in fact it may only be their faith that enables them to hold body and soul together in the face of unspeakable hardship.

 

I dare to suggest the people of Greece at this time know thing or two about this too.

 

So what’s going on with this covenant, then, when faithful people still suffer need and we still find examples everywhere of those who act like the rich man in the parable – ridiculously over-provided for, storing up mountains of produce which they can’t even consume; inward looking nations looking after themselves first; plundering or polluting the resources of others in the process; heavy industry in one place causing life-threatening changes in weather elsewhere.

 

It seems there must be an extra dimension to this covenant – and I think this is where the shared responsibility comes in.

***

I learned a new word this week – from the African language, Shona, which I gather is spoken in Zimbabwe, another country which knows a thing or two about the unequal distribution of resources.

The word is ‘ukama’ and it describes a way of being and living which is perfectly in harmony not only with neighbours but also with nature, with Creation – a way of living which gives the lie to the idea that the individual self is King but that each of us as individuals only find our true worth and identity in community with others and the land from which we were made.

 

The people of Israel were always treated as a whole group in the OT and the Hebrew word Shalom has much in common with this Shona term ‘ukama’ – it describes the sort of covenant living which is characterised by interdependence, respect for the other and respect for the land. It says that, when we damage those relationships of interdependence then we ourselves are also diminished, not to mention our neighbours and the land.

 

As I learned this, I thought about the rich man in Jesus’ parable – no mention of any family or friends with whom to share his bounty, entirely self-focused and self-dependent. And so his life is demanded of him.

 

But the lilies, the ravens, Jesus says – they know their place. They excel at being beautiful flowers or soaring birds. They don’t try to be anything else or strive to achieve anything other than be the fullest expression of themselves and play their part within the wider community of the ecosystem. If we stop to think about it, we know what that looks like for us too – a place a little lower than the angels, crowned with honour, stewards with God of his Creation, co-workers for Christ’s Kingdom – which is nothing less than the New Testament vision of the covenant life of God’s people where God is King and Creation is restored to a new Eden where water flows, and joy abounds, and sorrow and sighing flee away.

 

The Kingdom of God looks like humankind in its entirety remembering its place before its Creator and living out its responsibilities to one another and blessing the land in which it lives.

 

The 20th century theologian Jurgen Moltmann puts it like this: (I paraphrase) because humanity plays the key role in the ordering of God’s world, human reconciliation and healing will lead ultimately to the restoration of Creation, just as human sin led to Creation’s Fall.

 

We as human beings affect one another by the way we live, and we affect the progress of the redemption of the earth, the advance of the Kingdom of God by the choices we make about the wealth and provision we have.

I want to end with some words I read this week:

 

‘Most of us his week will not christen a ship, write a book, end a war, appoint a cabinet, dine with the Queen, convert a nation or be burnt at the stake as part of our Christian witness. More likely the week will present no more than the chance to give a cup of water, write a note, visit a nursing home, teach a Sunday school class, share a meal, feed a neighbour’s cat, listen to a story.

 

But whatever you do, live humbly as stewards of all that has been given to you, use whatever you have been given for God’s glory and for the coming of his kingdom, to bless the lives of others. By giving away your life in myriad small ways, then will you know the joy of finding true life, the life that secures the future in a good land, the best land where you will eat your fill forever.