Mama, Beatrice (emphasis on the “at”), was a gardener – among other remarkable things. Looking back, I’m not sure she grew all those vegetables because she enjoyed it at all. I think it had more to do with having produce to gather during the summer for putting-up. In fact, she pretty much abandoned it when I was a teenager for the joys of the Kroger frozen food section. So maybe her gardening was more remarkable than I thought, for she spent quite a lot of time laboring in the Alabama heat – planting, hoeing, watering and gathering her crops – for something she may or may not have been passionate about. Her harvest came one apron-full at a time. If you’ve never seen this, it’s ingenious – you just catch up the bottom corners of your apron to make a pouch. It’ll hold just about enough for a good sized meal… also known as a mess. As in, “I picked a mess of beans and put them on the stove this morning. They’ll be done by supper.” I’d give an awful lot of money right now to have one of her suppers from the garden – pole beans, fried okra, fried corn, dead-ripe tomatoes – with a pan of biscuits, of course. We were farm to table before it was trendy.
The practice of gathering is soul-satisfying, redemptive work – the pulling up of the apron to cradle a hard-won product of labor. Reminiscent of Jesus’ instructions to his disciples after the feeding-of-the-multitude-miracle. Gather up all that is left – let nothing be wasted. (from John 6) Another facet of gathering is the drawing together of people. It speaks of acceptance and community – belonging. There’s this cameo of a story in Numbers 12 that involves Miriam, sister of Moses and Aaron. It is set in the wilderness outside Canaan and the adrenaline laced flight from Egypt is a fading memory. The Israelites are becoming increasingly ill-humored and it affects those closest to Moses as well. Fueled by jealousy, Miriam (and Aaron) join the critics choir and aim some pretty mean personal attacks at their big brother. God is not amused – and big trouble ensues, primarily for Miriam, whose skin is afflicted leprosy-white. There are strict rules about impurity and Miriam is punished by being set outside the camp for seven days. This is a big deal. Miriam is separated from the community. In the context of this time in history, it would have been traumatic – like a death of belonging. And, in a greater sense, a denial of access to God. But there’s this beautiful translation of verses 14b-16 by Everett Fox in The Five Books of Moses: “Let her be shut up for seven days outside the camp, afterward she may be gathered-back. So Miryam was shut up outside the camp for seven days and the people did not march on until Miryam had been gathered-back. (Only) afterward did the people march on…”
This is breathtaking to me. Miriam (or Miryam) overstepped. Big time. And there were consequences. She was ex-communicated. She was ostracized. Set aside. Put away. Visibly marked. Cut off from God. Ringing any bells? Anyone other than me feel like this sometimes? Impurity of our own making hangs over our head like Pig-Pen’s dust cloud. Sin-stinking and sitting outside waiting for the trash pick up. For seven-long days… or weeks… or years. Long enough to appreciate holiness. Long enough to yearn for purity. Long enough to be home-sick.
But in God’s great mercy, there’s this incredible miracle: we are eligible for a gathering-back! The community is in a breath-holding pattern. Jesus pulls up the corners of his apron and cradles this mess like treasured produce, hard-worked, hard-earned, prized! Only afterward, the restored community moves forward – in the direction of promise. Thankful. Reconnected. Whole. And surely up ahead there’s a summer-supper-celebration awaiting. Complete with a pan of biscuits.
Comments