To Lie Fallow

To let things lie fallow. This has come up in two books for me in the past few days. Barbara Brown Taylor (Home By Another Way) refers to it in a sermon based on Leviticus 25: 1-17. “Park the tractor. Put the tools away. Oil your work boots and put them in the closet because the seventh year shall be a Sabbath of complete rest for the land.”

Joyce Rupp refers to the act of lying fallow in her book, “Dear Heart, Come Home”. She is writing about being in a place of darkness, a cave for her, and how moving into the dark or shadow places allows us to move deeper, and to know ourselves better. As much as we may resist the call to move into the dark places from time to time, the depths we dive into can provide many gems alongside the heaps of rubble.

In looking up ‘to lie fallow’ I find various responses, most of which do not ring true for me. One author writes, “Instead of letting fields lie fallow these days, crop rotation is used to maintain productivity.” Another site suggests it is cropland not needed for a season. Another notes it is to deteriorate by lack of action.

Finally I find a definition that rings true: to replenish nutrients.

To let a field lie fallow is one way to allow the field to rest, to refresh, to replenish. To lie fallow does not mean there is no activity within the field – no more than to say there is no activity in a hibernating bear. I believe we all need times to ‘lie fallow’. Times to rest with what we hold emotionally and spiritually, and to be OK with the quiet of the day and night as the questions tumble forth. I think in this time of quiet we are better able to hear what may be offered. As the fields within us rest and replenish, I believe we have the opportunity to move into deeper places of relationship and peace.