St. Patrick Presbyterian Church, Epc

I just got most of my garden planted on Monday. Addy was a lot of help. I bribed her into helping me pull up the winter garden of kale, spinach, greens and arugula by telling her she could drive the lawnmower and pull the wagon to deposit the refuse from the beds. Anyway, we toil in hope. Even hobbling around on a bad leg, I whispered a prayer of thanksgiving for the feel, smell, and gift of good dirt...and especially my small tomato plants.            I mention my garden because our text this week describes Jesus as the firstfruits of those who have died. It might seem a strange metaphor to us who live in the relative safety of suburbia and assume a food chain that is normative and stable. We don’t live in an agrarian culture so it hard to underscore the magnitude of what Paul is saying. In Israel, and most of the Roman culture, the firstfruits of your crop were something to be celebrated. Israel had a festival to celebrate it. All agrarian cultures did because all your money, all your hopes, your very life