When a man like the writer of Ecclesiastes gives his views on life, it
is worth everybody's while to listen. A tabloid of experience is worth
a ton of theory. And it is from his own knowledge of men and experience
of life that he has discovered that "he that observeth the wind shall
not sow, and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap."
Was ever a temper of mind, that we all know something about, more neatly
hit off than that? You can see the very picture which this wise
preacher had before his eyes. Agricola was a farmer in his parish who
would not sow his fields unless the wind was blowing soft and gentle
from a certain direction, and the clouds were just as he wished to see
them. He held there was no hope of a harvest unless wind and clouds
were right. And I observed, says the wise man, that Agricola, my farmer
friend, waiting for the exactly suitable conditions, never got his seed
in at all.
He was speaking chiefly about benevolence and charity when he used this
figure. And that is one reason why we need to give heed to it. For
ours is an age of charity. We give more to the poor and needy to-day
than ever any nation gave before. It is said, indeed, that a good deal
of our giving is not very wise. Our charities overlap. The truly
necessitous are forgotten, and the improvident, the lazy, and the
wasteful reap the largest share. Certainly that is one of the perils of
charity-giving. But I question very much if, in our efforts to avoid
it, we are not running the risk of falling into a graver mistake still,
namely, of observing the wind overmuch before we sow. If I refuse to
give my mite for Christ's sake till I have made perfectly certain that
it will not be misused, if we withhold our subscription from a charity
till we are assured that it is managed in the very most economical
fashion, it will end in us giving nothing at all. There is, of course,
a reasonable amount of inquiry that is not only legitimate but
necessary. Just as there is a regarding of the clouds before reaping
which is simply wise. But, to wait till every scruple is satisfied,
till every risk has been eliminated and there is not a cloud in the sky,
is to wait for a state of matters that may be long enough in coming.
Meantime the needy person may die; or the corn blacken in the fields.
Charity, however, is but a small part of Christian benevolence. The law
of Christ says "neighbour" whether he be poor or not. He is in trouble,
and I feel inclined to visit him. Must I wait till I am sure he will
not misunderstand my motive? I have it in my heart to forgive him.
Shall I defer the reconciliation till I am convinced he will not offend
again? Or I have hurt and offended him, and wish to apologise. Had I
not better wait till I know that he will not reject my advances? The
wise man's answer to all these questions is an emphatic No. If you wait
for all that, he says, you will wait too long, and the chance will go
past. Wait till the wind and the clouds are just as you would wish
them, and you will neither sow nor reap at all.
What to do, then? The wise man answers: "In the morning sow thy seed,
and in the evening withhold not thy hand, for thou knowest not whether
shall prosper, either this or that, or whether they both shall be alike
good." Just because you can never fully calculate what the result of
your labours may be, give up trying. Don't trouble about it, but do
what comes to your hand at the time. If it is sowing time, don't wait
for the perfect day. If the weather will do at all, sow thy seed in the
morning, and in the evening do not stop. In other words, Take life more
royally. Do not be deterred by its ordinary risks. Seize your chance
like a brave man. You do not know, of course, whether that seed you sow
will prosper or not. But sow it, all the same. Don't let the fact that
you don't know cause you to hold your hand. It is just because you do
not know but that the kindness which you offer your neighbour may be
ill-requited, that there is a royal free-handed self-forgetfulness in
offering it. That a man should live his life and do his good deeds with
a certain dash and carelessness of consequence--that, the Preacher
thought the ideal of noble living. And when we measure it by the
standard of Him who said, Do good and lend, hoping for nothing again, it
does not seem to come so very far short.
For, of course, there are the continual surprises that life holds for
faith. If only the corn reaped when the clouds were just right was
safely gathered in, then indeed we might feel that we could not be too
careful. But what do we find again and again? Why, we find that men
who have had the faith to sow when the day was by no means perfect have
been blessed beyond their expectations. We find our barns full and
running over, though we reaped on a cloudy day. We have seen men cast
their bread upon the waters, where you would say it was certain to be
lost, and find it again, after many days. It's perfectly true that you
don't know whether shall prosper this or that. Yet how often have you
been surprised to find that where you thought you knew, you were proved
mistaken, and where you dealt in faith, it stood justified beyond your
dreams.
And so, the end of the matter for the Preacher is, once more, Live your
life royally, with a certain loving wastefulness, and an easy disregard
of calculations. Do all the good you can, and do it with a free hand,
not asking to see your harvest before you sow, but taking your risk of
it, and leaving the outcome with God. "Cast your bread on the waters,
and you will find it after many days."
But what of the bread one has cast on the waters, only to see it carried
away, apparently of no use to anybody? What of the faith that has not
been justified? What of the good done to the ill-deserving, of the
kindly-meant act repaid with indignity and scorn? It is a hard
question, not easy to answer, not fully to be answered at all. "After
many days," said the Preacher. And there is no sign yet, we say.
Patience, brothers, patience! God's day is not yet done. When the days
have run out to the end, it will be time enough to say if we miss the
bread returning. We shall be better able to count the gains and the
losses, if there are any then,--when the "days" are done.