Seeds and Yeast and the Ways of God
"It impresses me, therefore, that all the figures who appear on the first pages of Luke's Gospel are waiting. Zechariah and Elizabeth are waiting. Mary is waiting. Simeon and Anna, who were there at the temple when Jesus was brought in, are waiting. The whole opening scene of the good news is filled with waiting people. And right at the beginning all those people in some way or another hear the words, 'Do not be afraid. I have something good to say to you.'” Henri Nouwen
“The ways of God are predominantly small and quiet. The ways of God are about as loud as seed falling on the ground or bread rising in an oven. The ways of God are almost never found in the shouts of the crowd; the ways of God are more often found in trickling tears and whispered prayers.” Brian Zahnd
“To create newness you have to cover the soul and let grace rise. You must come to the place where there’s nothing to do but brood, as God brooded over the deep, and pray and be still and trust that the holiness that ferments the galaxies is working in you too. Only wait. And somehow the transformation you knew would never come, that impossible plumping of fresh life and revelation does come. It manifests itself in unseen slowness. So it would happen to me and it would happen to all who set out to knead their pain and wounds, their hopes and hungers, into bread. Waiting is the yeasting of the human soul.” Sue Monk Kidd
It strikes me that the beginning of the Christian Calendar—this Advent season—begins with waiting. Not the spectacular Resurrection. Not the gust of Pentecost. Waiting seems like a boring introduction to a story. Where’s the dynamism and dazzle? Capture my attention! Take my breath away! Picture a movie director yelling, “Action!” only to have the main characters sitting motionless, with a clock ticking loudly on the wall behind them. Zzzzzzzzzzz.
Equally interesting is that Jews begin the day with rest. Sundown is the beginning of a new day, not the end of the day. We think awakening to work and then earning rest is the order. Jews begin the day at sundown with rest: “When G‑d created time, He first created night and then day. Therefore, a Jewish calendar date begins with the night beforehand. While a day in the secular calendar begins and ends at midnight, a Jewish day goes from nightfall to nightfall” (Chabad.com).
God’s calendar begins with waiting and rest. If we follow God’s pattern, we go from waiting to producing or birthing, and from resting to working. Not the other way around. We work from rest, not to rest. If this is God’s pattern, we might pay attention.
The paradox is confounding if we’ve never tended a garden nor watched bread rise. If we’ve never been pregnant nor fed a sourdough kit. If we don’t believe that something is actually happening in seeds and yeast, we might grow weary. Or worse, cynical.
Like seeds and yeast, we rest and we wait. We let the darkness have its way. We trust that something fruitful is happening in us, in the world--though it looks like nothing is. That’s what Advent is: a season on the edge of expectancy. Delivery room kind of anticipation. All the earth joins the breathless rest between contractions, believing that something—Someone—will be born of this pause and emptiness.
“The Advent mystery is then a mystery of emptiness, of poverty, of limitation” says Thomas Merton. “It must be so. Otherwise, it would not be a mystery of hope.” Hope defeats distrust. Hope is the fruit of waiting. And the Scriptures say that waiting is not fruitless:
“ . . . waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy” Romans 8:24, 25, The Message.
Rest, wait, join the contraction! Rest, wait, push! And so God’s rhythms go. Trust the cycle. Trust the darkness. Trust the Midwife. What a wonderful way to begin things!
JUDY