No Thought of the Harvest

NO THOUGHT OF THE HARVEST

Rev. Cliff Reed, Minister Emeritus

Service address on Sunday 6th June 2021

 

I suppose worrying about the future has been one of the features of the pandemic.   Worrying about our future health, worrying about the future of the economy and how it will affect us, worrying about whether planned holidays and visits to family and friends will ever  tak e place.  We worry about the future course of the pandemic – when will it end? Will it ever end? What surprises has it got in store in the form of new variants and third, fourth or however many waves in this country and around the world. And alongside the pandemic, and not unrelated to it, there are worries about climate change, the environmental crisis and the future of human civilization and human life on this wonderful but badly abused planet. It is possible to worry a great deal about the future – but if we do, what good will it do? Does worrying about the future do us any good? Does it have any point? Does it benefit our mental, physical or spiritual health? We don’t want to be irresponsible about the future, but is it possible to be responsible about the future while at the same time not be weighed down by fretting about it? That would be quite a trick if we could manage it! Well, maybe we can. Some have certainly thought so.

Fifty-seven years ago, on an April evening at the Annual Meetings of our General Assembly in  I  be a remarkable and memorable act of worship. It constituted the Youth Meeting and was devised by the then Vice-President of the Unitarian Young People’s League (UYPL), Martin Davies, Six other UYPLers took part in leading it of whom, incidentally, three were later to become ministers who served our movement for many years. Now, I wasn’t there, nor do I have a copy of the service, but I do have a report of it that appeared in UYPL’s newsletter, ‘The Young Unitarian’ (TYU). The title of this act of worship was ‘Take No Thought of the Harvest’, a line from T.S. Eliot’s ‘Choruses from “The Rock”’. The fuller quotation goes:

All men are ready to invest their money

But most expect dividends.

I say to you: Make perfect your will,

I say: take no thought of the harvest,

But only of proper sowing.

Although I can’t tell you what was said at that service I do know that it took the form of a dialogue between a ‘Seeker’ and a ‘Sceptic’, while the other participants presented the attitudes and impressions of the young people of the time on subjects that affected and concerned them. The TYU report – written by another old UYPL friend of mine, Gordon Lowthian – mentioned what some of these were – “violence, money and human relationships.”  They were illustrated with readings and music. The readings included Wilfred Owen’s dark and powerful First World War poem, ‘Strange Meeting’, about two dead soldiers from opposing armies who meet in some dim underworld:

…some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped

Through granites which titanic wars had groined.

One says, Strange friend…here is no cause to mourn.

The other replies, None…save the undone years,

The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours

Was my life also…

For them there is no future, and the poem ends with the words, Let us sleep now…

This is a poem about the futility and waste of war and violence, and perhaps of the misplaced loyalties and allegiances that drive people to kill: None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.

And maybe this is why one of the pieces played in the service came from ‘West Side Story’, Leonard Bernstein’s re-telling of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ in the setting of 1950s New York and its rival gangs. In his report Gordon mentions what he calls the “gang theme” from ‘West Side Story’. Maybe this was ‘Rumble’, which accompanies the deadly gang fight between the Jets and the Sharks, or maybe it was ‘Jet Song’. This is about the power of the gang to provide a sense of security and belonging to disaffected youths, but which also creates the obsessive loyalty which leads to volence and death for no good reason:

When you’re a Jet,

You’re a Jet all the way

From your first cigarette

To your last dyin’ day…

You’re never disconnected!

You’re home with your own

When company’s expected

You're well protected

When you’re a Jet

You stay  

A  Jet.

This is what gang culture offers – what amounts to a pointless present and an ultimately hopeless future, or no future at all.

Another piece of music in the service was ‘Money’ by the Beatles. Released in November 1963, it is an ironic commentary on a life and a society obsessed with material and financial gain, where the acquisition of money for its own sake pushes everything else aside, an obsession that is destructive of human values and productive of a false and ultimately pointless view of the future. To illustrate points made about human relationships there were readings from Stan Barstow’s novel ‘A Kind of Loving’ (1960), with its bleak portrayal of a man trapped in an ill-considered marriage.

There were original songs in the service, written and sung by Rosemary Goring, but I don’t know what they were or what they said. Perhaps, though, they echoed some of the sentiments being expressed at that time by a young singer-songwriter, who turned 80 recently, named Bob Dylan. In that same year of 1964 he released his seminal album, ‘The Times They Are a-Changin’’, with its title track that protests against the status quo, against the world that the older generation have bequeathed to the young, and looks to the creation of a new and better world. The 1960s were to be a hopeful and optimistic decade for many ung people and maybe ‘Take No Thought of the Harvest’ was part of this. It took issue with  “”values, ambitions and mindsets that were seen as stale and regressive, and instead called for something new, something more humane as well as more human, something more spontaneous to replace the ruts into which people were all too often thrust for the rest of their lives.     

 It was new, it was fresh, it was exciting – but it also had deep roots. It was by no means the first time that people had thought such thoughts, had sought to break restrictive moulds and free the spirit. And nor should it be the last, because we are always in need of being reminded that false and destructive structures – be they physical, political, mental or religious – are always around and always need to be challenged. That is why the ‘Black Lives Matter’ phenomenon has arisen today, even though it is hardly the first time that these issues have arisen in one way or another. Things don’t stay the same. Things do change, albeit slowly and haltingly; sometimes for the better, but by no means always. There are steps back as well as steps forward, and we can’t always tell the difference at the time. The old evils, the old negativities, are always lurking in the dark recesses of the human psyche, ready to crawl out anew, so requiring a new generation of humanity to call them out, to expose them, resist them and show that there is a better and more loving way to go.

And this better way is not about trying to fix or determine the future, trying to control or dictate to future generations what they must do. Rather it is about how we live now, because ‘now’ is the only place we can live. We are called to live lovingly and creatively, we are called to be good stewards of the earth, we are called to treasure the wonders of this incredible planet, we are called to do justly and to walk humbly – and we are called to do these things now. Hopefully, and hope, if it is not obsessive and misdirected, is a part of our spiritual resource – hopefully, by living wisely and well now we will bequeath a better world to those who come after us – but it is the living well now that is our business. That is all we can do.

The author of Ecclesiastes reminds us that the fate of any plans we make is ultimately beyond our control, “since you do not know what disasters are in store for the world” (Eccles. 11:2). We must still conduct our own lives as best we can but we cannot count on the future, “for you do not know whether this or that sowing will be successful, or whether both alike will do as well” (Eccles. 11:6).

For the author of Ecclesiastes this life is full of uncertainties, the only certainty being “the days of darkness” (Eccles. 11:8) at its end, but that is no reason not to live a full life in the present, unclouded by a future which is not ours anyway: “The light of day is sweet, and pleasant to the eye is the sight of the sun, However many years a person may live, he should rejoice in all of them” (Eccles. 11:7-8),

Jesus too rejects an obsession with the future and tells us to live in the now, “Can anxious thought add a single day to your life?” he asks. “Do not ask anxiously ‘What are we to eat? What are we to drink? What shall we wear?”’ Rather we should focus on living in the present with our minds set “on God’s kingdom and his justice before everything else” (Matthew 6:33), meaning the rule of love that is “God’s kingdom and his justice.” If we live lovingly, as citizens of God’s kingdom, says Jesus, “all the rest will come to you as well.” His radical conclusion challenges the way in which we so often think, clouding the present with our fear. Jesus says, “So do not be anxious about tomorrow; tomorrow will look after itself. Each day has troubles enough of its own” (Matthew 6:34).

And this, I think, is the message of those lines by T.S. Eliot. “Most expect dividends” when they invest but this is to lock yourself into an uncertain and maybe futile enterprise. “I say to you: Make perfect your will” – which is another way of saying “Set your mind on God’s kingdom and his justice.” 

“I say: take no thought of the harvest,

But only of proper sowing.”    

The sowing is how we live now, which is within our power. The harvest is beyond our sight and beyond our power. If we sow properly today that is as much as we can do. If we sow well there is a chance of reaping a good harvest, but we cannot count on it, we cannot control all that might affect it or even blight it, so for now take no thought of it. The future is not built by us worrying about it, the future will be the creation of others living in their own time. We can only live in our own time, and how we do that will affect our successors, but we cannot see how. So let’s see to our proper sowing in the here and now, and take no thought of the harvest.

'In Defence of Uncertainty' by Adam Whybray

When I was eight-years-old I was diagnosed with OCD. Some of my symptoms you will be familiar with – I used to wash my hands so much they bled, would get very upset if rules weren’t strictly adhered to (such as staying up later than my assigned bed time of eight o’clock) and would believe that my failure to do or not do certain things would cause terrible calamities to happen. Depictions of OCD in television and film tend to focus upon the most obvious external manifestations of the condition – the parts known as compulsions. Think of the television detective Monk obsessively washing his hands, for instance. However, these external compulsions are – in most cases – just the tip of the iceberg. Most of the suffering is actually hidden away inside the sufferer’s mind. At the root of much of this suffering is, I believe, difficulty coping with the discomfort caused by uncertainty.

An example of this was when, during my second year of university, I was fixated on the belief that I had terminal brain cancer. I had been having bad one-sided headaches and looked this up online. Sites like wrongdiagnosis.com and webmd.com informed me that having headaches on only one side of the head was a very bad sign, indicating some kind of neurological issue, maybe a tumour. Going to the doctor I was informed that, while tension headaches tended to be across the forehead and migraines tended to be felt in both temples, it was highly unlikely to be a brain tumour, but of course they couldn’t be 100%. The headaches continued and I wanted to be sure that it wasn’t anything serious. So, I went back to the doctors. They scheduled me for an MRI scan, which revealed nothing out of the ordinary… but then again, it was an MRI scan without contrast, which the internet usefully informed me was less reliable than one with contrast. Every time my mental goalposts kept changing. It was only when my dentist extracted a wisdom tooth and the pain stopped that I was able to stop worrying and obsessively Googling.

When Jesus instructs his disciples to “[l]ook at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them” and to “[c]onsider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin” (Matthew 6:26-28) it is very easy, I find, to bridle at the suggestion. “All very well…”, we might think… “but I have important duties and responsibilities. It wouldn’t be serious for me to not worry about these things. I’m far more important than a lily or a bird and must stride about the world with constant purpose and certainty”. However, an important distinction here lies. Because worrying about taking action isn’t the same as taking action. Thinking about doing work isn’t the same as doing work. The lines from Matthew here are scary and radical because they ask us to let go, shifting from faith in our individual ego, to faith in the Lord. And, in that faith, to stop with the constant “what ifs”.

Over the last decade I have become marginally better at doing this. Any progress I have made comes down, I believe, to practising meditation and, also, simply getting older and recognising how rarely things seem to go the way you expect. However, ironically, while I think I’ve gotten better at holding ambiguities and not-knowing-ness in suspension, much of Western society seems to have demanded and made claims to greater and greater degrees of certainty. In the so-called culture wars, we are expected to take sides – to know with certainty which statues should be brought down and which deserve to stay; to know with certainty which celebrities deserve to be cancelled and which have the potential to be redeemed; to know with certainty what is good and what is bad.

On one level, this seems justifiable since the stakes seem so very high. With the rising tides of fascism and climate change, uncertainty and inaction look dangerously like choosing the side of complacency or even ignorance and bigotry. None of us want to look stupid or feel like a bigot.

However, it does not necessarily follow that we need to bring certainty to every space and facet of our lives. I suspect that the impulse to do this is symptomatic of how the divisions between online and offline have becomes increasing blurred for many people so that we are always – smartphones in our pockets; Twitter and Facebook notifications set to on – existing as citizens of the internet “in the real world”. And the internet rarely allows for nuance. Charlie Brooker, the creator of Black Mirror, has referred to Twitter as an “echo chamber of nodding heads”, in which people perform their outrage to others who always already agree or disagree with them.

I see this tendency towards black and white thinking in my students. Having been “taught to the test” through much of their secondary school and sixth form education, they are very hesitant to offer symbolic readings of films, getting very caught up wanting to know what a film really means, what it’s exact message is – hoping that I can tell them this. However, what they have no hesitancy about is declaring that a film is good or bad and that a character is a good or bad person. Their almost universal love of superhero and Disney films reflects this. The films my students have struggled with the most are narrative films that end on an uncertain or ambiguous conclusion. Especially disliked has been the films of Chilean director Raúl Ruiz, whose films often veer off at wild tangents, characters are written as deliberately inconsistent and changeable, and stories don’t conclude satisfactorily or sometimes at all. It is this ability of art to produce uncertainty rather than traditional empirical knowledge that Keats champions as “negative capability”. While I would never allow my students to quote from the notoriously unreliable and changeable website Wikipedia, the Wikipedia entry on negative capability with its unknown author or authors puts it brilliantly: “Keats might be seen as providing an antidote to E. M. Forster's mantra of 'Only connect...'. Keats might be seen as saying 'Only disconnect...' from our reassuring certainties, from our hyperconnected world, from our executive control, and from our prefrontal cortex”.

When working on this service I received the email from Tessa regarding the General Assembly AGM Motions. I found that with a couple of the motions I didn’t know if I would or should vote for and against. I stewed over this for two days and ended up instigating a pantomime of the kind of internet argument that I’ve been cautioning against here, for which I am truly sorry. It is essential that we do not reduce people to caricatures of their opinions, but instead respect nuance and not-knowing-ness.

It is okay to not know and to sometimes step back and admit this. This is true on small personal matters, on the topic of aesthetic appreciation, but also on a larger scale with matters like climate change. I see more and more “Doomers” online who confidently announce that it is too late to prevent near-time human extinction and even make claims of the exact year in which this is going to occur. This is the flip side of the former certainty that said climate change was not occurring and was all just a made-up fiction. The fact is, the climate is going to get harder for humans to adapt to, but in terms of how hard and how fast, we don’t know for sure. The future is probabilistic, it hasn’t already happened. That is not to say that we should just throw up our hands and say “Que sera sera, whatever will be, will be” in the face of structural injustices to threats to human existence, but to be more like the birds of the field – worry less; intuit and adapt more.

Having OCD, I’m still not very good at this. It plays havoc in my relationship with my nearest and dearest and brings out the ugliest, most fearful parts of my personality. However, generally speaking, I have improved and the thing that has helped me get better at living with uncertainty is getting off social media. Antonia reflected that this poem by Walt Whitman reads as though he just stepped away from social media and the chorus of angrily conflicting opinions that it brings. If Whitman was alive today, I’d like to think he wouldn’t have a Twitter account.