The Realm of God is like when someone scatters seed on the ground.
Night and day while they sleep and rise, the seed sprouts and grows;
how, they do not know. Mark 4:26-27
What does it mean to be rooted and grounded; earth between our fingers, dirt beneath our nails?
There is no synthetic soul, no virtual holiness.
Neither by agency, nor rhetoric, nor reasoning
can we manufacture sacredness.
Holiness is free-gifted.
Sanctity presents itself;
an essential quality of each and every being.
But goodness, truth and beauty,
are graced to the gardener,
who has learned to live by earthy wisdom.
For mercy rains down from heavy heavens,
justice erupts from saturated soil,
peace blossoms in the sublime harmony of living communities.
Life is too precious to permit its devaluation by living pointlessly, emptily, without meaning, without love and, finally without hope. Václav Havel
Yet, so many of us earthlings
now find ourselves exiles
on our precious planet home.
Divorced from the cycles
of sun and moon, seas and soil,
we seem destined only to despoil.
Whether boxed in slum squalor,
where neither field, nor forest,
nor flower can grace our eyes,
or barricaded behind
where Nature becomes a screen show,
our reverence is three times removed from raw reality
by heads distracted, hearts divided,
and hands calloused only from continuous clicking.
What greater stupidity can be imagined than calling jewels, silver, and gold “precious” and earth and soil “base”? Galileo Galilei
Life herself, in proportions minute and monumental—
our one bright sanctuary in the endless dark—
is soaked with sacred mystery.
When we no longer sense this sacramental presence,
we have traded our common birthright for “urbanality”,
and lost our way back home.
How sad to separate
from the good green earth,
to desecrate the sanctity of soil
and denounce salt of the earth people
as dirty, pagan, heathen, villain!
For followers of a meek master,
once a worker of wood,
touching earth is our spiritual practice.
By calling upon us to consider the lilies,
our teacher was taught by Nature
to renew our covenant with Creation.
Reconnecting with the loam of our lives
we learn that holy is not heavenly.
It is in the humus of our humanity that we touch mercy.
…that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love. Ephesians 3:17
And it is to the crumbled communion
of countless ancestors under our feet
that every body is commended.
Will you stoop today, be touched by sacred soil,
and sense the first silent stirrings of spring?
Nothing is more vital and urgent for us than growing deeper down.
The pastures of the wilderness overflow,
the hills gird themselves with joy,
the meadows clothe themselves with flocks,
the valleys deck themselves with grain,
they shout and sing together for joy. Psalm 65:12-13
Blessed are you, who wake up to this unfurling Realm,
to till and tend and be touched by resilient soil,
wherein we plant the seeds of possibility!