Unbearable Abundance
“Come, everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and he who has no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk, without money and without price.”
The Belgian artist Pieter Bruegel the Elder painted The Harvesters in 1565. It depicts the harvest time, in the months of July and August or late summer. The influence of the Reformation is felt here in elevating the daily life of peasants into the idiom of art: this trend was just beginning in the 16th C, as the subjects of painting in the preceding decades and generations tended to be either religious or wealthy. But Bruegel sees something sacred in the simplicity of everyday people, in their small, faithful work in a flourishing world.
Underneath this shift in conviction is the a revolutionary perspective on vocation as something all Christians have, and not just monks and nuns. In a homily on the Sermon on the Mount, he remarks,
The prince should think: Christ has served me and made everything to follow him; therefore, I should also serve my neighbor, protect him and everything that belongs to him. That is why God has given me this office, and I have it that I might serve him. That would be a good prince and ruler. When a prince sees his neighbor oppressed, he should think: That concerns me! I must protect and shield my neighbor. … The same is true for shoemaker, tailor, scribe, or reader. If he is a Christian tailor, he will say: I make these clothes because God has bidden me do so, so that I can earn a living, so that I can help and serve my neighbor.
You can read more about this view of vocation in this article, or Gustaf Wingren’s classic book, Luther on Vocation (1957).
The valleys shall stand so thick with grain that they shall laugh and sing.
— Psalm 65:14b
Seventh Sunday after Pentecost
Texts for This Week
Prayer
Grant us, O Lord, we pray, the spirit to think and do always those things that are right, that we, who can do no good thing apart from you, may by you be enabled to live according to your will; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.
San Luis
The South African born but now small Colorado farm based indie-folk musician Gregory Alan Isakov is known for his “dusty folk and moody Americana:” an appealing sound that evokes the forlorn-but-hopeful emptiness of rural the American West. His song San Luis is a typical example, with haunting and enigmatic lyrics paired with gorgeous shots of towering mountains, wild horses, and lonely vistas that characterize the Southwest.
Isakov’s imagination points us to a different and wilder sort of abundance: an abundance that is not cultivated through the sowing of seeds, but is present patiently in wild open places, over which we float like “ghosts” in “bird’s eye view.” What does the abundant harvest look like in this wilderness? What effect, when the soil is dry and sandy, does the good seed have? But thanks be to God: his is the seed, his the harvest, his the abundance that he freely gives us, even when our fruit seems all unripened, or worn out, shriveled, and disappointing. He still cries out, “Come, everyone who thirsts,” and with his word which comes forth from the heavens, he will accomplish all that he purposes.
Desert Musings: Flesh v. Spirit
The inimitable 4th C monastic roadtripper John Cassian records the following insights of Abba Daniel (Conferences 4.11-12):
The flesh delights in indulgence and lust, whereas the spirit will not tolerate even natural desires. One craves ample sleep and abundant food, while the other sustains itself through vigils and fasting, eschewing sleep and nourishment for the bare essentials of life. The flesh seeks abundant possessions, while the spirit finds contentment even in the meager provisions of daily sustenance. The flesh pursues external adornment through baths and the company of flatterers, whereas the spirit takes pleasure in simplicity, solitude, and the untrodden wilderness, avoiding the presence of mortals. The flesh thrives on the praise and approval of others, while the spirit finds glory in enduring injuries and persecution.
We would expect Abba Daniel, child of desert wrestlings, to encourage us to revel in the desires of the spirit, and eschew the desires of the flesh. But his view is actually far subtler:
Between these two desires, our free will finds itself in a precarious position. In our freedom, our souls neither take pleasure in the excesses of sin, nor fully embrace the hardships of virtue. They seek to restrain themselves from carnal passions, yet hesitate to endure the necessary sufferings. They long for bodily purity, but resist the discipline of the flesh. They desire spiritual virtues, but yearn for worldly comfort. They seeks patience without enduring contradiction, humility without sacrificing worldly honor, and a devoted life in Christ without the disapproval of others. In short, they endeavor to pursue future blessings, while clinging to present ones.
Thus Daniel’s interpretation of the Pauline conflict between flesh and spirit, to which he goes on to attribute a providential and salutary function of grace.
It is through the contention of these desires that our lukewarm state is disrupted. When we yield to our freedom and lean toward complacency, the desires of the flesh arise, enticing us with sinful passions and hindering our pursuit of purity. On the other hand, when we are inflamed with spiritual fervor and strive for virtuous efforts without considering human weakness, the frailty of the flesh intervenes, restraining us from excessive spiritual zeal that may prove harmful. Thus, in this struggle between opposing desires, the free will of our souls, which resists total surrender to carnal desires or exhaustive virtuous exertion, finds a fair balance. This inner conflict prevents the more perilous free will from prevailing, establishing a just equilibrium within us. It acts as a precise scale that demarcates the boundaries of flesh and spirit, preventing the mind inflamed with spiritual fervor from veering too far to one side, and the flesh from inclining to sin on the other.
Abba Daniel finds hope in the grace of God at work through a Christian community that living together under a common rule, which, by gently enforcing common discipline, help us to make slow and humble progress in spite of ourselves.
This balance ensures that the languid choice of our free will is enlivened by spiritual fervor, while the frigid coldness of the flesh is tempered by a gentle warmth. The desire of the spirit prevents the mind from succumbing to unrestrained indulgence, while the weakness of the flesh restrains the spirit from pursuing unattainable heights of holiness. Thus, a proper equilibrium emerges, leading us on a secure and virtuous path between these two extremes, enabling us, as soldiers of Christ, to walk confidently in His way. The sluggishness of our will inclines us towards carnal desires, but it is checked by the desires of the spirit, which do not acquiesce to earthly sins. Similarly, when our spirit is carried away by excessive fervor and lofty aspirations, it is grounded by the limitations of our flesh, prompting us to consider more balanced perspectives.
Importantly, it is not WE who get the balance right, but the Spirit who intervenes in the midst of our aporiaic oscillation between flesh and spirit, causing us to cry out, “Thanks be to God through our Lord Jesus Christ!” for “There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” Abba Daniel drives this point home by tracing God’s saving purposes through the tower of Babel:
We see this pattern at work in the account of the tower's construction in the book of Genesis. As a babel of tongues arose, causing confusion and disrupting the blasphemous and wicked attempts of humanity, it prevented a harmful unity against God's purposes. Instead, by God's providence, the differences in languages stirred strife among them, compelling them to strive for better conditions. This beneficial discord brought salvation to those whom destructive unity had led astray, exposing them to human weakness, of which they were previously unaware in their prideful schemes.
May we, recognizing the struggle within us, embrace the necessary disruptions and challenges that lead us to a more balanced and righteous path. Through God's guidance, may we find strength in our weaknesses, temper our desires, and continually strive for true perfection, which we receive — not as the fruits of our efforts, but from the riches of his grace.
