FOR the first time in my life, I seeded a pasture this past weekend. Once again, I experienced in my soul the tremendous dance of the creature with His Creator to the rhythm of creation. It is an incredible thing to co-operate with God to foster new life. All the lessons of the Gospels came pouring back to me… about the seed falling into weeds, rocky, or good soil. As we we wait patiently for rain to water our parched fields, even St. Iraenaeus had something to say yesterday on the feast of Pentecost:
… like parched ground, which yields no harvest unless it receives moisture, we who were once like a waterless tree could never have lived and borne fruit without this abundant rainfall from above [the Holy Spirit]. —Liturgy of the Hours, Vol II, p. 1026
It has not only been my fields, but my heart that has been dry these past few weeks. Prayer has been difficult, temptations have been relentless, and at times, I have even doubted my calling. And then the rains came—your letters. To be honest, they often move me to tears, because when I write to you or produce a webcast, I remain behind a veil of poverty; I don’t know what God is doing, if anything… and then letters such as these come along: