Fifth Sunday of Lent — A Time to Plant

Nathaniel Abrams
A Table in Gethsemane
3 min readMar 22, 2021

Psalm 51:1–12

“… unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” — John 12:24

“We must acknowledge first that it is dark,
and we are blind by sight. This is the stratum
known only by result, where the dead become
alive, where the seed, abiding alone, dies
into the commonwealth of the living.”
- “16,” Wendell Berry, A Small Porch, pg 32

Seed and Soil

This past Saturday marked the official first day of Spring. It is an exciting time for gardeners. The ground is warming, there is rain aplenty, and all of those seeds that we have been hoarding over the winter can finally be put in the ground. Spring is a time of anticipation, and of hard work. It is a time of planting, of tending, of waiting. Lent is much the same.

Seeds are one of the most remarkable things on the planet. They contain within them everything that is required to grow a plant. Everything from the tiniest wild flower to the greatest sequoia comes from something that can fit easily into the palm of your hand. But seeds remain only potential until they are planted. Left sitting in the light, seeds are good only for bird feed. They must be planted, put into the darkness of the soil, in order to grow and produce fruit.

Nature abhors a vacuum. Bare ground begs for seed and will give life to any potential (seed) that falls upon it. What we plant matters, for growth happens in spaces which we do not have direct access to. The fruit, the “stratum know only by result,” is our indication of what took hold. The roots, the movement of water and nutrients, the work of micro-organisms, all of this is hidden to us except in brief glimpses that give us something less than a true vision of what is happening.

Spiritual growth is the same. It happens most often, and most prodigiously, in dark spaces, in times of tension, stress, conflict, and transition; in short, in times like Lent. We are most conscious of the result even as the process remains a mystery. We may feel the movement of the Holy Spirit, shifting under the earth of our souls, but we cannot see it. It does what it does out of the light of day, away from the spaces where we are most comfortable. It causes whatever is planted in us to sprout, to reach for the light, and to grow and bear fruit. If we have planted the right seeds, the fruit is a “clean heart” and a “new and right spirit.”

Remember that the darkness is not our enemy. For only when a seed is planted, is placed into the darkness, can it grow. Do not work too hard to penetrate that darkness. We can’t really see what’s going on down there anyway, and disturbed seeds don’t grow. Plant, water, and leave it be. Let the Holy Spirit move beneath the soil of you soul and tend what has been planted there. You will know the fruit to come soon enough.

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Nathaniel Abrams
A Table in Gethsemane

Engineer, gardener, cook poet, part time theologian seeking to build a bridge between the languages of complexity and theology