Judgment Cometh Rye

I planted some Rye crop out back last September. I had some idea that I would harvest the grain and make a Rye Beer out of the yield. That turned out to be a bit fanciful. A whole lot of work.

I might get a loaf of bread or a six pack out of it if I follow the harvesting plan from reaping, to threshing, to malting.  A century ago, about half of Americans worked in agriculture. Now it is about two percent.  The good old days were full of back-breaking labor where calories out and calories in were close to even. Our obesity crisis in America is partially because we eat as if we are still working the fields rather than watching TV or playing video games.   
  
Rye doesn't die in the Pennsylvania Winter. It may not grow at certain times but it survives under most cases. So, it was fun to watch it stay green when it was in the single digits temperature-wise. I admired its tenacity. However, it was coming time for me the clear the plots of the Rye out back. Mother's Day is typically when we Pa. home gardeners get the crops in the soil. The chance of Frost has past.

I wasn't sure if the Rye was ready. A quick search of the Web indicated that when the heads bend, it is time to harvest. Makes sense. The heads are big and heavy enough to create a bending of the stalk. I loved both the simple explanation and the principle that pointed to a cool spiritual application. The bowing of the head can be a sign of contrition and confession (Luke 18:13). When God called the people of ancient Israel stiff-necked, it suggest pride and the inability to repent.

Thus, I went outside and acted the Reaper. It was hard work to harvest the grain but the crops are in for the summer. About half the Rye was not bent, half was.

No man knows the time.