It was an enchanted moment, a fairy-tale moment. A small group of hikers -- seven, itself a special number -- climbing slowly up a dewy trail along the ridge of a mountain. As the trees thinned into mountain meadows, wild flowers spread themselves across the shallow soil.
Indian paintbrush -- rich red, deep purple, pale pink. Creamy columbine bells hanging from slender stalks. Bearded seedpods of anemone, waiting to be carried hither and yon by the wind. The unsavory sounding purple fleabane. Brilliant yellow arnica, vivid yellow potentilla. Lacy white valerian clusters lording it over beds of crunchy heather.
And something we couldn’t identify -- tiny white globes, on top on a single stalk, rising out of a bed of thick dark leaves.
But not a weed in sight.
Because there are no weeds in mountain meadows.
Or maybe they’re all weeds. If any of those plants grew among my tomatoes or lettuce, I’d probably pull them out.

Things that grow wild
It makes me realize that “weed” is an artificial distinction that we humans apply. In the Creation story in the Bible, God did not separate plants into weeds and non-weeds. According to Genesis, God saw that they were all good.
Even thistles and dandelions.
“Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme,” goes the refrain to the traditional song Scarborough Fair. All four are herbs that we cultivate in our gardens. They’re also plants that grow wild through most of the British Isles.
So what gives me the right to decide which plants are desirable, and which are not? For that matter, what gives anyone the right to decide which ethnic cultures are desirable in our cities? Which sexual orientations are acceptable? Which political affiliations?

Monocultures
Monoculture is never a good idea. Not for forests, or for crops, or for communities. Yet we have a tendency to weed out everything but one brand of life -- whether it’s carrots in the garden or races in the city.
A community composed exclusively of white people, or of elderly people, or of female people, is less healthy, less adaptable, than a mixed community. A collection of Donald Trump clones would not be happy campers.
Just as a wildflower meadow consisting only of columbine, or forget-me-nots, would be more vulnerable to pests and diseases than a mixed meadow.
In fact, a wildflower meadow is not a collection of disparate plants, each competing with every other plant. It’s a collective unity, a symbiosis of many lives bound together. 
That Indian Paintbrush so beloved of photographers is actually a parasite. Its roots invade the roots of nearby plants, forcing them to provide intravenous nourishment to the Paintbrush. But the rich nectar in that same Paintbrush attracts hummingbirds, butterflies, and bumblebees. Who help to pollinate the whole colony.
Just as the milkweed that grows among my strawberries feeds monarch butterflies for their winter migration to California or Mexico.
I know this. I know this in my head, and in my gut.
So why, if I believe it as much as I think I do, will I go out as soon as I finish writing these words, and start pulling weeds that have grown wildly over the last two weeks?
*****************************************
Copyright © 2016 by Jim Taylor. Non-profit use in congregations and study groups, and links from other blogs, welcomed; all other rights reserved.
To comment on this column, write jimt@quixotic.ca
*****************************************

YOUR TURN

I may have rocked a few boats with last week’s column, about the moment of death being like a “freeze frame” that ends a movie. 

Tom Watson called it, “A very interesting and thought-provoking column. I too don't believe in deathbed conversions, but if the end of our time on this mortal coil can be likened to a freeze-frame moment we may (certainly not always but sometimes) have some input into the moment.
“In an analogous way, [to Paul Newman and Robert Redford charging out into the hail of bullets] I have seen incredible courage in the face of certain death, bringing about a calmness and a grace to their freeze-frame moment that made things so much easier on everyone around. A friend had lived for more than 40 years with only one kidney. Finally it gave out as well, which meant daily dialysis. In due course that turned to constant dialysis, and then infection which resulted in the amputation of one leg. 
“When the other leg became infected too and was going to have to be amputated, she considered her options. One was the remainder of her life spent in a care institution, wheelchair bound, totally dependent upon others, hating every moment of it, and with the clear possibility that infection would continue to break out in other areas of her body thus necessitating further amputations or other surgeries. The other option was to choose a day and a time -- her freeze-frame moment -- when she would have the dialysis machine unhooked and let natural processes take their course. 
“She chose the latter option, then advised her family that ‘one week from Tuesday’ would be her final day. They did a lot of things in that hospital room during that final week, and filled it to overflowing with love and memories of the privilege it had been to share life together. The credits that rolled thereafter were splattered with tears but nonetheless wonderful.”

John Shaffer recalled “a hospital experience I had in Sitka, Alaska, when I went to visit an inactive church member, only to find a local woman trying to ‘save’ my church member, who was very ill.
“I lit into the visitor, kicking her out of the room, with words like: ‘This person accepted Jesus Christ long ago!’.As the visitor departed the room, the very ill person looked at me and quietly said: "Thank You". 
“It makes me wonder why I only had one such satisfying encounter in my life, when there are so many situations calling for the correction of rabid enthusiasts who think that they have the final word for so many persons -- or should I say ‘victims’?”

Jim Henderschedt added this thought: “Of course, you do realize is that the persuasion to conversion is not for the benefit of the dying but more for the persuader. It earns them one more merit badge to wear on their funeral shroud, therefore a seat closer to the buffet table at the great banquet in the sky.”

Charles Hill asked, “You don't believe in a conscious existence after physical death?”
I replied to Charles at greater length, but basically, no, I don’t. Not any more. If I’m wrong, I’ll be delighted. If I’m right, it won’t matter anyway.

Isabel Gibson quoted my line,   "a great freeze frame can't redeem a lousy movie," and added “neither can a lousy freeze frame damn an entire life. And so we can begin anew, every day.
“You go first . . .”

*****************************************

PSALM PARAPHRASES

For some reason, I didn’t do a psalm paraphrase for Psalm 80:1-2 and 8-19 when I first wrote Everyday Psalms. By the time I did write a paraphrase for that selection, I must have been feeling a little rebellious:

Hey! You!
You claim to have created this messy reality
that we call sub-atomic physics.
Before we knew there were such things,
you created protons and elections, quarks and leptons, bosons and photons
for our use.
You set them spinning and whirling in Shiva’s intricate dance
of life, and death, and renewal.
Everything we are, everything we can be
depends on these invisible dancers.
But your score has hit some sour notes.
Some have used your quantum packets of energy
to destroy others
to poison environments
to threaten the survival of entire species.
Come back! Tweak your creation back on track!
Close off the destructive dead ends, 
and keep us out of cul de sacs.
Just because we can doesn’t mean we should!
Set us on the straight and narrow again, 
and we will not stray off your path.

For paraphrases of most of the psalms used by the Revised Common Lectionary, you can order my book Everyday Psalms from Wood Lake Publishing, info@woodlake.com.

*******************************************

YOU SCRATCH MY BACK…
Ralph Milton has a new project, called Sing Hallelujah – the world’s first video hymnal. It consists of 100 popular hymns, both new and old, on five DVDs that can be played using a standard DVD player and TV screen, for use in congregations who lack skilled musicians to play piano or organ. More details at www.singhallelujah.ca
Isabel Gibson's thoughtful and well-written blog, www.traditionaliconoclast.com
Wayne Irwin's "Churchweb Canada," an inexpensive service for any congregation wanting to develop a web presence, with free consultation. <http://www.churchwebcanada.ca>
Alva Wood's satiric stories about incompetent bureaucrats and prejudiced attitudes in a small town are not particularly religious, but they are fun; write alvawood@gmail.com to get onto her mailing list.
Tom Watson writes a weekly blog called “The View from Grandpa Tom’s Balcony” – ruminations on various subjects, and feedback from Tom’s readers. Write him at twatson@sentex.net

*****************************************

TECHNICAL STUFF

If you want to comment on something, send a message directly to me, jimt@quixotic.ca.
To subscribe or unsubscribe, send an e-mail message to jimt@quixotic.ca. Or you can subscribe electronically by sending a blank e-mail (no message or subject line) to softedges-subscribe@lists.quixotic.ca. Similarly, you can un-subscribe at softedges-unsubscribe@lists.quixotic.ca.
You can access years of archived columns at http://edges.Canadahomepage.net.
I write a second column each Sunday called Sharp Edges, which tends to be somewhat more cutting about social and justice issues. To sign up for Sharp Edges, write to me directly, jimt@quixotic.ca, or send a note to sharpedges-subscribe@lists.quixotic.ca

********************************************