January 15, 2010

I have an older brother who lives in Saskatchewan. The Vietnam War was instrumental in planting him on Canadian soil. He is a gardener. With his son’s help he has been operating a successful market garden for many years. The garden is on the edge of town, Rosthern, within city limits. He was recently honored as Rosthern’s citizen of the year. You see, Eric is the town gardener. He sweeps sidewalks. Shovels snow in winter, rakes leaves in fall, plants, waters, and weeds during the growing season. He does all of this early in the morning…before most folks are up. He is shy and does not want to be noticed. Apparently enough people became aware of who was keeping the town groomed and florated (ha! I think I invented a word!) that they decided to bring him fully into the public eye with this recognition award.

According to John’s Gospel, Mary, turning away from the empty tomb, sees Jesus and mistakes him for the gardener. I’ve often wondered what it was about him that planted this instantaneous conclusion into Mary’s mind? Was he grooming the garden? Had he a few flowers in his hand…olive blossoms?