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Phil Blackwell

“An Urban Harvest”
II Corinthians 9:6-15

The first time my wife, Sally, and I sang “We Plough the Fields and Scatter” was at a harvest festival in a Methodist chapel in Snape, a village in Yorkshire.  You can see by looking at the insert that actually it is a German text and tune, but it is a favorite among British Methodists.

We had been in England for about two months when Jack and Jean Dowson, our Methodist overseers during my year-long internship at two chapels in Wolverhampton, an industrial city in the West Midlands, drove us the 150 miles northeast to Snape, whose main claim to fame is that it was the home of Katherine, the only surviving wife of Henry VIII.

It was an evening service at which Jack was preaching.  The altar was festooned with produce . . . apples, squash, potatoes, tomatoes, gourds, and flowers.  It truly was an ingathering of what had been produced on the farms surrounding the village.  And there we sat in the dim light and listened to scriptures about seedtime and harvest, heard Jack’s sermon, and then, if that had not been sufficient, a second sermon by the host pastor.  Then, we stood and sang, “We plough the fields and scatter . . . All good gifts around us are sent from heaven above; then thank the Lord, O thank the Lord, for all his love.” And then, after the benediction, we all went to the church parlor for tea.

That night Sally and I were housed at an old hotel in the adjoining town of Masham, The King’s Head Hotel, where we walked into the room and immediately over to the window, not to look outside, but because that was the direction in which the floor slanted.  This town had no claim of surviving royalty, only the local brewery that produces a beer called “Old Peculier.”

It was well after dark when we got to the King’s Head, we went for a walk across the village square, a cobble-stoned plaza straight out of a James Herriot book.  It was dark and quiet; it was a thanksgiving in the country.

An idealized memory, no doubt, but one that Sally and I can conjure up simply by singing, “We Plough the Fields and Scatter.”  Truthfully, that is why it is here in the bulletin; it is a bit selfish, I know.  But many of us have some sort of rhapsody we call on when Thanksgiving comes, “We Gather Together,” “Come, Ye Thankful People, Come.”  The words and music transport us city dwellers back to where we are surrounded by the fields, the gardens, the livestock, the barnyards.

Thanksgiving can be very different in the city.  We have a few pots of dirt on our outdoor patio here in the Loop where this summer we grew lettuce, chives, basil, and parsley, but that hardly makes a harvest feast. No, in the city we must rely on others to grow the produce, to process it, to transport it, and to sell it.  We will eat our turkey with satisfaction this afternoon, not trying to imagine the conditions under which it lived and died.  We will not calculate the miles traveled by our potatoes before they end up hot on our plates.  The milk, well, thanks for refrigeration.  And the pumpkin came in a can.  Nevertheless, with a little bit of imagination, we will celebrate the harvest here in the middle of the city.

As we feast this weekend I invite us city folks to expand not only our waistlines but also our imagination of what a local harvest might look like, not a harvest of food but of other essentials for life.

What about imagining a harvest of equality?  I met for a long time with a member of our congregation Tuesday morning to discuss the ways in which this congregation can be an active participant in strenuous discussion about public education in the city.  Everyone knows that a good education is essential for everyone, not just some, but all.  Not only does it lead to economic health and productivity, it also is the foundation of democracy.  It is a way of insuring that everyone is equipped to participate in the common cause.

But the disparity of resources within the public school system tells us that the harvest is good only for some.  And the disparity easily can be correlated to race and wealth.  The results are inevitable – lower achievement, a higher drop-out rate, a lifetime of discouragement.  As we sit down to the feast today can we imagine a harvest of equality?

And a harvest of plenty, can we imagine a harvest of plenty?  Paul writes to the urban dwellers in Corinth, “God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance, so that by always having enough of everything, you may share abundantly in every good work.”  A realization of the abundance that God has built into the creation so that there is enough for everybody.  God looked at the created order and called it “good.”  So, why are there people who do not have enough to live life with dignity?

The saying is that when the tide comes in all boats in the harbor rise.  But in our current economy it is only the yachts that are rising.  The rowboats, the dinghies, and the leaky life rafts are sinking.  At a minimum wage of $8.50 an hour, a fulltime job with no vacation earns $17,680 a year.  Even with two such incomes in a household, there is no turkey on that family’s table.

Recent governmental figures show that the net worth of a household headed by someone over 65 years old in our country is 47 times that of a household headed by someone under 35.  A disparity of 47-to-1; 25 years ago it was 10-to-1.  There is little comfort in knowing that poverty among people over 65 is growing now, too.  Can we imagine a harvest of plenty?  Paul’s language about overflowing generosity is not just a metaphor.

And then, what about imagining a harvest of peace?  Equality and plenty lead to peace.  There are no social revolts without there being revolting conditions.  A society that takes care of its elderly, its young, its poor, its ill, and its strangers will know peace.

Studies show that in most civilized cultures violence has dropped over the centuries.  Even here in this city the incidents of violence are fewer today than a few decades ago.  But take a moment to go upstairs to the second floor art gallery where there are chairs in rows like a classroom, each one painted by a student in memory of a classmate who was murdered.  And then read the names on scrolls from the ceiling to the floor, each being a reflection of the deaths in a particular academic year, the scroll of 2011-2012 within reach to add more names, as necessary.

Violence will not end until we can imagine something different and then work to it make it come true.  Discrimination and despair lead to violence; equality and plenty lead to peace.

Well, I do not intend to put us off our meal for this afternoon.  I trust that we will rally enough to scoot up to the table and take it all in.  The harvest is plentiful, even the urban harvest.  The laborers?  Here we are, the laborers, and our work is clearly set before us . . . imagining a harvest of equality, a harvest of plenty, and a harvest of peace.  And then making it come true.  Paul encourages us by saying that those who sow bountifully will reap bountifully.  We urban folks know at least that much about farming.  In this season of harvest, it also is our time to sow.

May God’s abundance overflow with thanksgiving upon thanksgiving.  Amen.

Philip L. Blackwell
The Chicago Temple
November 24, 2011