The temperature almost dropped to freezing last night but, perhaps because they are sheltered from the wind, the begonias in the Secret Garden are still blooming. I always become wistful this time of year, knowing that the flowers – so recently just sprouting from the earth – will very soon shrivel and return to the soil. I wonder if the incredible beauty of fall is God’s attempt to compensate us for the bare limbs and gray skies that will be our landscape from late November till March.

Our Sunday liturgies resonate with the cycles of nature, so during November, as the growing season comes to an end, we will be hearing about endings in our scripture readings. Liturgical manuals even have chapters dedicated to November as a time to focus on last things. But as Christians, we cling to the central truth of our faith: just as the dying flowers carry their seeds to the ground, so death contains the seeds of new life. Every ending is a beginning. Christ the King Sunday (November 23rd), which we used to call the Sunday of the Fulfillment, is really the prologue to Advent, the beginning of our liturgical year and the time when we anticipate the coming Reign of God.

You’ve probably heard how Martin Luther, when asked what he would do if he knew that the world would end tomorrow, answered, “Plant a tree.” Because our faith is built around hope for life beyond death, we continue to make plans for the future, whether or not we will be around to see those plans come to fruition. So it is also appropriate that November is our stewardship emphasis month. Like a gardener musing over seed catalogues even as the snow falls, we make plans for the coming year, giving prayerful thought to how we will use the resources God has given us. This year especially, when economic turmoil fills people with doubts about the future, there is immense spiritual value in planning for another year. You could say that filling out an “Estimate of Giving Card” (which you’ll receive in the mail) is one way of joining Martin Luther in planting a tree.

I leave you with this poem by Christina Georgina Roseetti, entitled, “AMEN.”

It is over. What is over?
Nay, how much is over truly: harvest days we toiled to sow for;
Now the sheaves are gathered newly, now the wheat is garnered duly.

It is finished. What is finished?
Much is finished known or unknown: lives are finished; time diminished;
Was the fallow field left unsown? Will these buds be always unblown?

It suffices. What suffices?
All suffices reckoned rightly: spring shall bloom where now the ice is,
Roses make the bramble sightly, and the quickening sun shine brightly,
And the latter wind blow brightly, and my garden teem with spices.