Harvest hands
On agrarian metaphors in Scripture and life in the fields
This past Sunday, I visited another church here in Nashville. The sermon text was from Matthew 9, including verses 37-38: “Then [Jesus] said to his disciples, ‘The harvest is abundant, but the workers are few. Therefore, pray to the Lord of the harvest to send out workers into the harvest (CSB).’” As the priest made his way through the sermon, he mentioned in an offhand way that in The Message, Eugene Peterson had paraphrased part of verse 38, saying, “pray for harvest hands!”
This little phrase caught my ear. Jesus was not exactly talking about a harvest of literal produce in this particular text, but he used a metaphor that his original hearers would find accessible, even personal. In an agrarian society, they knew that harvest time meant all hands on deck— hands to shoulder the burdens, care for the land, labor together and share in the joy of a process moving towards completion. Any and all hands were useful during harvest— the hands of children, the elderly, the simple, the strong— because the tasks came in all shapes and sizes. Harvest was an equalizer of sorts, because all hands could participate in some way.
As I’m working on a farm this summer, Scripture passages like this are taking on a fresh, even visceral quality. Just this week we head into a season of harvest. Hundreds of pounds of potatoes, bushels of tomatoes, pints and pints of blackberries are ripening and ready to be picked now. The work is just beginning. Though my main focus is running our little farm store, it is easy to head into the fields for a spare hour or two and participate in the process, helping the farm team along.
While harvesting potatoes this week, I asked one of the guys what he would plant if he could grow anything. He responded quickly that he would plant a Japanese cherry tree right by his window. I don’t know much of his story, but I do know that he’s recovering from a season in prison by working in our fields, gaining skills, and getting back on his feet. He isn’t the type of guy I’d assume wants to see pink blossoms blooming first thing in the morning, but he longs for beauty, order, his own property, and fresh cherries to enjoy— just like I long for all of those things. His “harvest hands” are valuable, his work has great dignity, and many will eat the fruit of his labors (including me). He is a harvester, and is himself a harvest, just like Jesus spoke of.
"He is a harvester, and is himself a harvest" 🥹
so good.