There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven—
A time to give birth and a time to die;
A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted.
A time to kill and a time to heal;
A time to tear down and a time to build up.
A time to weep and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn and a time to dance.
A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing.
A time to search and a time to give up as lost;
A time to keep and a time to throw away.
A time to tear apart and a time to sew together;
A time to be silent and a time to speak.
A time to love and a time to hate;
A time for war and a time for peace.
Another of them mysterious Spring holy days, 50 days after Passover. Jews and some Christians count those days leading up to Shavuot because God commanded people to count the days (49) AND count the weeks (7). Of course, man being the ornery cuss that he is, decided to mess with the counting, so now we have three theories upon which day this is.
But the Torah was received by the Israelites on this day and according to Christian holy writs, this day was the day the Spirit of God was given to the disciples. Pentecost, if you will.
Anyway, many of us hold convocations lasting all night, though at my age, I usually excuse myself around one or two am. Old men don’t do well with lack of sleep …
So here I sit with a background headache from the late hour, and prepare myself for the congregational celebration at 2:00 this afternoon.
I don’t know why I do this to myself, but I do believe the annual rotation of holy days mean something more than a mere annual even to remind us of past things, but more importantly, they remind us of things to come.
Not that many of you will be all that interested in these days, other than mild curiosity.
Did kinda break the rules a little bit today. This day is also considered a Shabbat as well, so the usual rules to not labor are pertinent. The new tractor was delivered Friday, and of course, I had to take it out for a test run … but perhaps since it could not actually be classified as “labor”, I am presuming that I am forgiven. Of course, that puts me head-up in the rule against presumptuous sins. Oh wicked man that I am!
The heat has arrived … this was such a mild spring for us, and the land is not responding as it usually does in spring because of the persistent drought we are in. It would take a week long drizzling rain to get the land to believing the drought was over. But I took this little piece of rural Texas for what it is. We accept the droughts, and we accept the wet years, and adapt to them as they cycle through the years. There is a time for every season.