The Miracle in the Field

Wisdom From the Agrarians

Photo by Polina Rytova on Unsplash

“Something of myself is buried in that earth, and has resurrected in that wheat: that is why I like to look at it. I can look at the crop and say ‘this with heaven’s help I have done.’”

- Adrian Bell, The Flower and the Wheel

Farming is hard work. At times, back breaking work, that demands much from the farmer’s tired, battered, and worn-out body. He never can rest for long. Crops and livestock need tending and protecting come rain or shine, hail or snow, wind or gale. Unlike the rest of us, the farmer cannot decide to take a day off because the weather is dire and a threat to his life — no, it is on these days that the farmer must be doing his most dedicated and skilled work, unless he wishes to survey a field of desolation and death upon his return.

Even in times of good weather, the fields require much from the farmer. This was especially so for the agrarians and smallholders of old, who did not possess the modern technology and machines which make the farmer’s life today comparatively “easy”. By the sweat of their brow, and the aching of their limbs, these old-time farmers worked the land: fending off weeds with a scythe and hoe, shearing the sheep with handheld shears, milking the cows by the repetitive motion of their hand, and ploughing furrows with their team of horses — bending their limbs out of shape as they did so with one foot in the furrow and one foot on the level ground. The fields demanded much from the farmers: their energy and sweat, toil and skill, dedication and attention, body and health. They willingly paid the price.

They paid the price because of the joy set before them: the joy of the field ripe for harvest and the bounding joy of the new lamb in spring. Few things in life are more satisfying than a hard day’s work; how much more so for a hard year’s work that one is now reaping rich and bountiful rewards from. Moreover, the farmer’s vocation is to grow, tend, and nurture that most precious of substances: life itself. He deals with sacred things, the lives of plant and beast entrusted to him from God the Maker. These are lives given to him to steward and to husband, to nurture and to protect, so that others, in the community and farther afield, may feast on their meat and the bread to obtain the energy to do the work that they themselves have been ordained to do.

The farmer continues the prestigious tradition of the first work given to mankind — to tend and keep the earth — and it is his work that makes all other work in this world possible.

But the good farmer knows he cannot do this work alone. Try as he might, he cannot make the seed grow or the livestock give birth. All he can do is provide seed and beast with the best conditions possible for flourishing, and to protect them from every ill and peril. The ultimate work of growing, perpetuating, and breeding, he must entrust to the Giver of Life. He knows, therefore, that his work is as much in the entreating and praying to God for the health of his crop and beasts, than it is in the tending and keeping of them. Without “heaven’s help”, nothing would grow. This reality humbles the good farmer and should ultimately lead him to where it led Adrian Bell, to praise and wonder as he stands — one arm resting on the fence post — at the edge of his beautiful field.

So, when you take a bite of bread or a portion of meat, remember that you are feasting on something of the farmer who laboured for this your daily bread. You are feasting on his energy and his work done in precious partnership with the Maker of all things. Remember this — and give thanks.