The Lord spoke to Moses on Mount Sinai, saying, 2 “Speak to the Israelites and say to them: When you enter the land that I am giving you, the land shall observe a Sabbath for the Lord. 3 Six years you shall sow your field, and six years you shall prune your vineyard and gather in their yield, 4 but in the seventh year there shall be a Sabbath of complete rest for the land, a Sabbath for the Lord: you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard. 5 You shall not reap the aftergrowth of your harvest or gather the grapes of your unpruned vine: it shall be a year of complete rest for the land. 6 You may eat what the land yields during its Sabbath—you, your male and female slaves, your hired and your bound laborers who live with you, 7 for your livestock also, and for the wild animals in your land all its yield shall be for food.
Cool principle, right!?
I’ve frequently been inspired by this (often overlooked) instruction to the ancient Israelites in the biblical narrative. God invites them into an earth-affirming and trust-enhancing practice here – let the ground rest. Eat what grows naturally, do not put in more work than necessary. Let the land produce at its own pace, on its own power.
But it doesn’t stop there. God promises to provide food even when the people halt their efforts to improve the land or increase the harvest. “Should you ask, ‘What shall we eat in the seventh year, if we may not sow or gather in our crop?’ I will order my blessing for you in the sixth year, so that it will yield a crop for three years… when its produce comes in, you shall eat the old.” (Leviticus 25:20-21). God’s creation and provision is abundant, and it is enough.
An Invitation for Act Five
It’s not always wise to extrapolate modern applications from ancient biblical texts without careful exegesis. However, there’s something beautiful and intriguing about how this principle, or vision, might act as a metaphor that reaches beyond the realms of agriculture and homesteading. I wonder if the liberatory, open-handed spirit imbued in this text can be a spirit that indwells our work as we live our lives here alongside the “landscape” that is Act Five.
As Act Five enters its 7th year, I have been considering the question:
“What could it look like to live this out here, in Hamilton, at Act Five, in 2025?”
How might we take time to observe and enjoy what has been created? What does it mean for us to “eat what the land yields” if the “land” is Act Five and its “yield” is the fruit of our last six years?
“…there’s something beautiful and intriguing about how this principle, or vision, might act as a metaphor…”
Discerning with Open Hands
In the year ahead, we sense God’s invitation to wait, to notice, and to trust. This year we will observe what has been planted, enjoy the fruit of what has grown, and trust God to bring the harvest. We celebrate our six years of input that has led to this. We continue in our mission and remain steady in our Gap Year and Residency programming to provide the trellis within which our young adults can grow through hands-on learning, mentorship, improvisation, and intentional daily living. After all, a trellis doesn’t make the plant grow – it simply provides the structure and support for healthy flourishing.
Alongside our students and residents, we will explore how themes of creation, Sabbath, jubilee, and celebration can shape our imaginations for life in the world. And we will trust that God will continue to provide as we navigate another year of life here.
I am overflowing with gratitude for the students, staff, and residents that make up the community here, and our supporters and all the folks who keep this thing going. I invite you to pray, follow along, or join us in some way. We are eager for all that lies ahead: for our staff as we evaluate, discern, and grow; for our external initiatives that will open our doors to others and support our core programming; and most of all, for the 12 young adults who will join our community this fall as students and residents.
