A seed does its first work in the dark. Before anything green shows above the soil, the husk splits open and something tender starts reaching for light. Nobody sees that part. It happens underground, out of sight, long before there is anything to admire.
This September, while most of the country brings in its harvest, South Florida does something different. We plant. Our growing season begins when everyone else’s ends. Tomatoes, peppers, herbs, and greens go into Miami ground in September and October, so that by the time the north is frozen, we are eating what we sowed. Last Sunday we poured our summer waters into one bowl. Water is the first thing a seed asks for. So this month, we plant.
Our new series, Seeds of Transformation, runs the four Sundays of September, and it asks one question four ways: what are we planting, in our own lives, in this city, and in the world our children will inherit?
On September 6, Labor Day weekend, we begin with Humanity, and with the hands that do the work. On September 13, twenty-five years after that September morning, we ask what Justice requires of a people still haunted by it. On September 20, at the equinox, we take an honest Harvest of what this year has grown in us. And on September 27, we close with Hope, and with a pot of soup. More on that in a moment.
This weekend the country rests. Remember why. Labor Day was not handed down from above. It was won. Working people organized, marched, went to jail, and kept going until the eight-hour day and the weekend became the rule, and this holiday became the law. Rest is part of the justice they won. Every weekend you have ever enjoyed was somebody’s picket line first.
I keep coming back to hands. Human hands built this city. They poured the concrete, hung the drywall, wired the sanctuary we gather in, and cooked the food we eat. Human hands also built the systems that keep some people poor, some people unsafe, and some people invisible. Both things are true. What human hands built, human hands can transform, fix, or, if need be, take down, and then build again, more united, with justice and equity for all. That is our faith in one sentence. It is the world we imagine. It is the world we know is possible.
And the hands that work for justice need rest too. Nobody dismantles anything on an empty tank. So this weekend, put your hands down. Let somebody else carry it for a day. The work will be there on Tuesday. So will we.
Now, save the date. On Sunday, September 27, we end the series the way the old story ends: with everyone fed. You know the tale. A hungry village, every door shut, until a stranger sets a pot over a fire and drops in a single stone. One neighbor spares a carrot. Another finds an onion. Somebody has a little salt. And a soup that nobody could have made alone feeds the whole village.
We are going to make that soup. Bring one ingredient from your kitchen that belongs in a pot: a few carrots, an onion, a can of beans, a potato, a handful of herbs, whatever you have. We will cook it together that Sunday, and it will be our lunch and our celebration for the close of the series. The stone is on us. Details on what to bring and when will follow from Hayro in the coming weeks.
Come plant something this month. Come to the table at the end of it. Bring your hands.
Peace,
Rev. Dr. Harold Marrero