Tribal Stories: Earth and Time (Guest Post)

He sat thoughtfully at the edge of his field while the last rays of daylight disappeared over the horizon.  Many weeks had gone into the preparation of this year’s crops, and soon it would be time for the harvest to come in.  He always felt a sense of ambivalence about this time of year:  the harvest could be magnificent, or it could be eliminated through any of a number of tragic circumstances.  Storm, drought, thievery, and even the nature of wild beasts threatened to harm the labor of his hands.  He could sense that the harvest was near.  For all his readiness, though, only Time would dictate when the ripening would be complete.  All he could do is sit and wait…and keep watch.

News from a far-off land occupied his thoughts:  details of the escalating war in the southern desert lands.  He first learned of this news while conducting business in the city.  The wanderer, soon to depart for the war-torn south, had met with him in the city some weeks earlier.  She was concerned about the war, and yet she felt compelled to give herself for the peacemaking efforts.  She spoke of her tribespeople and of their shared mystical heritage.  He could not fully understand her native dialect, but their common respect of Earth and Time helped them to communicate with each other. 

Earth and Time.  His business, his activities, his religion revolved around these two poles of faith.  From his earliest days, he had been taught to respect Earth and Time.  He had learned his father’s trade, that of growing crops for the community’s good, by studying his father for some years.  Now he worked his own field, applying the basic principles of his religion, the depth of which he was only now beginning to appreciate:

“Respect Earth, for Earth gives life.”

“Respect Time, for Time gives friendship.”

Respect for Earth was easy; growing crops took all his strength, but those crops gave life to him and his community.  He could not understand Earth, but he depended on Earth’s love for each year’s needs.  Respect for Time was more difficult.  Surely, Time dictated when the ripening would be complete, but from his childhood a question plagued him:  How could Time give friendship?

Once he began working Earth on his own, he learned the true value of Time:  not to ripen crops, but to strengthen relationships among fellow laborers.  Growing crops was a lonely profession, but his time in the city had reminded him that he did not labor alone.  The wanderer, different as her journey was from his, sat next to him in the city one night some weeks earlier.  She spoke of her tribespeople and of their shared mystical heritage, and then she spoke of how he was included in those groups.  She gave thanks for Time which had brought them together in the city.  She gave thanks for Earth which would connect them even after they parted ways.  And then she pulled two small stones out of her pack, gave them to him, and said:

“You say, ‘Respect Earth, for Earth gives life.’
You say, ‘Respect Time, for Time gives friendship.’
I say, ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’
I say, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’
Perhaps we are not so different.”

He sat thoughtfully at the edge of his field.  Daylight was fleeing.  The harvest was not yet ready, but soon it would come, just as it always did for his father.  He rolled the two small stones over and over in his hands.  And then he looked to the heavens and uttered a prayer of thanksgiving, for Time indeed had given friendship.