Above many acres
of Georgia piedmont, warm winds sigh through the tops of tall pine trees.
Beneath the trees lies another distinct feature of the southern landscape:
layers of thick, red clay. As difficult as it can be to work, and prone as it
is to stick to and stain everything it touches, red clay can also be a
blessing. It holds moisture much longer than the thin, sandy soil further
south. During times of drought, roots wander purposefully through dry soil,
seeking the oases of clay where they drink and nourish whatever tree, or shrub,
or crop, or weed, stands above them in the scorching sun.
There is
another, less abundant variety of clay in GA. This clay is white (in the same
loose sense that the other is “red,” of course). During certain anguished
times, white clay has been sought out, as well. It is not plants that seek it,
however. People do. In the throes of poverty and desperation, some have
discovered that white clay is edible. It fills the belly and keeps the anxious
pangs of hunger at bay. But unlike roots wrapping around and burrowing through
red clay for moisture, those who eat white clay receive no nourishment. You may
eat your fill of white clay, and starve to death, nonetheless.
We are now
into the third month of 2017, but some of us may still be climbing out of the
doldrums that often darken the first weeks of a new year. This unpleasant but
predictable phenomenon usually results from the white clay feeding frenzy of
November and December. Traveling, entertaining, eating, and so on are not wrong to do, but the paradox is that excess
has no substance. It does more to mask our joy than to release it.
While he does
not use the image of clay, Henri Nouwen wrote his little book Making All
Things New to remind us that there are all kinds of spiritual white clay we
consume as substitutes for true spiritual nourishment. And he suggests fighting
emptiness with emptiness. Emptying our lives of clutter, we make room for that
which truly fills and gives growth. Jesus lived this empowering emptiness: “In
the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted
place, and there he prayed.” And God commands it: “Remember the Sabbath day,
and keep it holy.”
True happiness
and fullness stand a chance when we abandon all the white clay, all our
addictive possessions, power, status, and meaningless diversions – everything we
devour that ends up devouring us.
May the roots
of your hearts seek out that which satisfies – the red clay of community,
prayer, service, and compassion. And may you enjoy the dessert of sharing your
healthy, new fruit with gratitude and joy.
Peace,
Allen
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