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Genesis 2: 4-9,
15
May 3, 2009 JESUS THE GARDENER: SABAH EL FUL In one of Rembrandt's paintings, Jesus is depicted as a gardener, complete with a shovel or a spade in his hand, some sort of pruning instrument under his belt, and on his head there's a huge hat that for all the world resembles a Mexican sombrero. Now we might think of this a being a rather implausible flight of imagination by the artist if it were not for one of the more quizzical and tantalizing passages in the bible, our scripture lesson for this morning from the Gospel according to John. Although it's a part of the Easter narrative, we preachers rarely get around to talking about it, perhaps because it is so odd. After the resurrection, Jesus appeared to the disciples in at least several different ways. According to some sources, he was clearly recognizable, with even the wounds from the crucifixion being visible, but in others, it was as if he were in disguise or had some other visage or persona. And so it is in this rather strange story from the Gospel according to John. When Mary went to the tomb where Jesus had been buried and saw that the stone had been rolled away, she assumed that someone had stolen the body, and so she went to tell the disciples. Simon Peter and one other disciple came with Mary back to the tomb, and while they were inside checking things out, doing their sort of CSI examination, Mary, as the bible says, "stood weeping outside the tomb." And speaking of Mary Magdalene, did you know that our word, "maudlin" is derived from her name, Magdalene? Indeed, over in England at Cambridge University, there's a college there that is spelled, "Magdalene" but it's pronounced as "Maudlin", a linguistic reminder of the melancholy and the grief that Mary exemplified at the grave and a reminder of how "maudlin" we all would be without the presence of God's love in our lives, however and whenever that love might be manifest. But of course, the word "maudlin" means "foolishly melancholy", and the reason this is attributed to Mary Magdalene is because even as Mary is weeping she doesn't see that which is right before her eyes. According to the Gospel of John, she sees someone but she doesnt recognize him as being Jesus, but supposes him to be the gardener. Thus the reason for Rembrandt's painting of Jesus, carrying a spade and wearing a giant sombrero. Now, why a "gardener?" Out of all the different images and vocations, why would Jesus be resurrected, looking like a gardener? Why not a gravedigger, a Roman Centurion, a teacher or philosopher, a lawyer or a carpenter? We find this story of Jesus the Gardener only in the Gospel of John and we do this story a disservice if we try to take it literally, if we try to drain the mystery out of it and force ourselves to say "yes, indeed, that is exactly what the resurrection is all about. Jesus died on the cross and came back to life wearing a giant sombrero." You're welcome to believe that if you want, but for me, that's not the purpose of this story. We need to understand that out of the 4 gospels Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, they each one have their own particular slant, and we need to understand that the Gospel of John is the most poetical of the 4 gospels, and we do it and we do ourselves a real disservice if we treat it as if it were history, the "facts and nothing but the facts." Reading the Gospel of John is a little like reading James Joyce's Finnegan's Wake. There are many layers of meaning and a multitude of allusions, some having mythological significance. Now, if you keep that in mind, I think you can see why the poet, why the author of the Gospel of John would have Jesus reappear, looking as if he were the "gardener." The death and resurrection of Jesus was the "big bang", if you will, by which a New Creation would come into being, and so just as the old creation began where? in a garden the Garden of Eden so the poet thought that this would be where the New Creation should also begin. The Gospel of John, perhaps more than any of the other gospels, understood the human spiritual psychological predicament the struggle between light and dark, good and evil, order and chaos, and how there is within each one of us a feeling that somehow we're in exile, we're a long way from being where we know we should be and could be, that there is within each one of us a longing to return to that primordial garden where humanity and divinity were in blessed harmony, but something got lost along the way, or rather, we got lost along the way, and now we're wondering, we're on a quest; we're on a spiritual quest, trying to see how we can recapture that feeling of being at one with God, "walking with God in the cool of the morning and the quiet of the evening." Once we've been kicked out or once we've walked out of the "Garden of Eden", is there any chance that we could return? Is there some kind of inward compass, some sort of spiritual GPS unit that would show us how we can return to that sacred place? Those of us that grew up in the 60's perhaps remember a song by Joni Mitchell, a song that became something of an anthem for our generation the so-called "Woodstock generation. In this song she says, "and we've got to get ourselves back to the garden." In those words, I think the songwriter touches on something of emotional spiritual significance for every generation. On some level we all know what that means, for on some level we all feel as if we are in exile from that sacred place, sometime in the past or sometime in the future, where everything is like a beautiful idyllic Garden. I sometimes wonder if that isn't why we throw ourselves so recklessly into all of our many garden projects during this time of year. The weather during the last 2 weeks of April was exceedingly warm and beautiful and having been cooped up for the winter, many of us threw ourselves into our gardens with complete and reckless abandon. A week or so ago, with my large iron bar, I dug out of the earth about 15 large pieces of granite that I then carried over to another place on our property where I planted them in stone dust to create a garden path, and the next day, there wasn't bone in my body that wasn't sore. Why do we do these things to ourselves? Is it only because we want to make something that is pretty or useful? Is it because we want to prove to ourselves that we're still as young and as strong as we used to be? Is it because, as my Mother would say to me, that I'm never happy unless I have some kind of project? There's probably some truth to all of this, but perhaps there is also something else going on as well. The philosopher Socrates said, "know thyself" and if we were to do a phenomenological study on why we throw ourselves into our gardens, sooner or later we would come to realize that the "garden" is far more than just dirt and flowers and vegetables but is symbolic, reminiscent of that sacred place where humanity and divinity are perfectly "at one." And we've got to get ourselves back to the garden. Fed up with superficiality, fed up with wars and all of "man's inhumanity to man", fed up with "man's inhumanity to women and children", fed up with consumerism, fed up with things artificial, fed up with greed and materialism, fed up with things that are out of our control or seemingly out of our control, fed up with the cacophony of our televisions and talk radio or what I would prefer to call "sneer and jeer radio" , our spiritual instincts are good and they tell us that the closer we are to the earth, the closer we will be to God. I see something wonderfully encouraging about the number of community gardens that are springing up around the country, something of a return to an old New England tradition. In many of our New England communities there was a piece of land, open space right in the center of the village that was known as "the Commons", and I have to say I'm somewhat envious of towns such as Guilford and Madison and Colchester that have such large pieces of land still intact in the middle of their communities. All we have here in the center of Old Lyme is a little triangle of land down at the end of Sill Lane and another small piece up here at the end of Lyme Street. Originally, the New England Common was a place where the farmers would graze their livestock; it was land that was held in common, land that would be a place where the residents would plant their gardens and perhaps cooperate for agricultural purposes, sharing resources and expertise, and I think we can see how it would help to build a sense of community, having not only its practical purposes but its spiritual purposes as well, helping people to connect with one another and also connect with the sanctity of the earth. Perhaps, for that reason, The New England Meetinghouse was frequently placed alongside that common area, as if to serve as a reminder, that "the earth belongs to the Lord and the fullness thereof." I rejoice that there seems to be a renaissance, a return to this old tradition in places like "Fresh New London", a community garden in the city of New London that has raised beds that bring people together in community to raise food for their families and also for those who are poor. Up near Boston, I'm told there's a similar place called, "Land's Sake", a community, organic garden where 1/5 of their produce is donated to the homeless. I see in all this not only a desire to grow things that are healthy for our consumption, a return to our native sense of community and our awareness that we need each other to survive, but also I see in this something that resonates with that spiritual longing to return to "The Garden" and all that that would seem to suggest authenticity and the joy of being at one with God. So, for me, with free association being what it is, all of this comes to mind when I read in our scripture lesson that Mary Magdalene thought that Jesus was "the gardener." And in a larger sense, that is exactly what he was and is, a "sower of seeds", a Master Gardener who talked about how the Mustard Seed would become the largest of trees, the one who went to the Garden, the Garden of Gethsemane when he was most in need of God's wisdom and reassurance, the one who peppered his sermons with all manner of things with which a gardener would be familiar the laborers in the vineyard and how much they should be paid, the difference between good soil and bad soil, the need to keep everything in balance, the joy of sitting back from time to time, simply to enjoy the lilies of the field. As I see it, the Garden is that sacred meeting place between Heaven and Earth, between the wilderness and civilization, Divinity and Humanity. It's all about our place in nature and how we can live in Harmony with God's creation, how we can overcome that sense of being in exile and whether or not its possible to restore that sense of being at one with God and at one with God's Creation, being able to walk with God in "the cool of the morning and the quiet of the evening. And so, being a poet, is it any wonder that the author of the Gospel of John, would want to show that in the New Creation, that sacred relationship between Humanity and Divinity would be restored, that once again there would be harmony upon the earth, that Jesus the Master Gardener would show us lesser gardeners how to restore that blessed time when the Creator looked out upon the Creation and said, "this is very good." In Rembrandt's imagination, Jesus reappears in the persona of a gardener, wearing a big sombrero and carrying a spade as if to say to Mary Magdalene, "no time to be maudlin; no time to waste our time with pointless sentimentality; there is work that needs to be done, there are tiny seedlings that need our care; the earth is out of balance and it needs our attention; there are potatoes and corn that need to be planted and I cannot wait to see the happy faces of those who will benefit from the fruit of our labor. Every community needs to have a Common if for no other reason than to be reminded that in a deeper sense, everything is held in common, in a delicate state of symbiotic interrelationship, and Mary, I need your help in teaching our communities what it means to be a community." The only thing I would add to Rembrandt's imagination is a salutation. I mean, knowing Jesus as I do, I cannot imagine him simply handing Mary a shovel and saying, "okay, enough of that; let's get to work." Jesus spoke Aramaic, a language that helped to give birth to both Hebrew and Arabic, and one of the things that we've learned from our Tree of Life journeys to Israel and Palestine is that in the Arabic language, there are a variety of delightful ways in which to say, "Good morning." Indeed, as I understand it and those of you who speak Arabic, please forgive my poor pronunciation -- but if someone says to you, Sabah al Khair, which means "Good Morning" one would never say the same thing in response, but instead one might say, Sabah El Ful, which means, "good morning, an abundance of flowers, a bouquet of Jasmine to you." Can you see Jesus saying something like that to his friend, Mary Magdalene on that first Easter morning? "When I came out of that tomb, the morning mist was rising, the Morning Doves were singing and the dew was dripping off of these olive leaves, and I was reminded of what a beautiful Creation this is, and oh, by the way, I just picked this Jasmine for you, Mary. Sabah El Ful; now let's get to work on the restoration of God's Garden; there is so much that needs to be done, and I need your help." Amen.
David
W. Good
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