Nature teaches about beauty, but also disorder

I have a friend I call “the Tomato Whisperer.” One of the first times we met, Father Wilfred Gomes showed me his tomato plants and I was absolutely floored. They were huge, like, over 10 feet high! And there were tomatoes everywhere!

This past year, Father shared with me some of his grown-from-seed plants. But only on the condition that I follow his very specific tomato plant rules: I must pinch off any unwanted “sucker” stems like crazy, and I must tie the stem to the stake till I can tie no more.

Some days Father will check up on me, messaging to ask how well the fruit is growing and to give me advice for better growth next year. One day he stopped in our driveway to look at the garden. I screamed out loud as he plucked a flower-bearing “sucker” from the stem. He looked at me with some pity but assured me that I could trust him.

At first it was a bit of a chore, knowing that I should be checking on things, and tying, tying, tying, plucking, plucking, plucking. In a small act of rebellion I started an experiment. I took a few plants from those gifted to me and simply put them in the soil. They received the same dirt, the same water, and the same sun as those that were cared for according to Father’s directions.

It didn’t take long to see the difference, of course. But after a few weeks, it became joke-worthy. The plants that have been left to grow according to their nature are, at this point, about 18 inches from the ground. They are twisted, and wiry, full of leaves, without one piece of fruit in the entire bunch. The plants that have been tended, tamed, and tied are well over eight feet high, and most are full of fruit.

So, every day I take a moment or two to walk out there and tend my tomatoes. Of course, this has pushed my thoughts further than to just gardening plants. Every time I pull out a lovely looking little sucker, I am reminded of conversations I have heard about nature. There are those who claim that if humans left nature to its own devices, things would eventually balance out and live in harmony. It is we who are the problem, trying to interfere. Nature, the goddess, will have her own way if we simply let her.

On the other hand, I know a few people who spend quite a lot of time in the beauty of the wilderness, and in their great love and respect for nature they have an unexpected and vulgar way of describing her character. They have seen first-hand the wolves who invade the dens of hibernating bears to eat the cubs. There is no way to harmonize the wolf-bear relationship when all the bears have been eaten.

These people have lived in and seen the imbalance and believe that man has a duty to help correct the disordered tendencies. I can only say that if my garden were left to its own devices, Mother Nature would be left with nothing but one big, beautiful morning glory, and a pile of stunted, fruitless tomato plants.

But it is not just nature that is disordered. Our faith is clear that, even after baptism, man is left with concupiscence, a tendency to sin. We are disordered in our self-love and selfish ambition. The same thoughts that people have about nature, they have about themselves and their children. Let the child be free, they think. They must be who they will be. We cannot impose our values upon them or insist upon our own ways. If they are left to themselves, their true characters will shine forth, and the world will be a beautiful place. Who are you to label anything as sin, anyways?

Well, every single sucker I pull off of that blooming tomato plant is a visual reminder of how sin sucks out beauty and life, and unless it is pulled, carefully and without tearing the stem, it will take the joy, hope, strength, and purpose away from a life meant to know God.

When we tend to our children’s spiritual lives deliberately, we are helping them to grow. They need good soil and plenty of sun, but they also have need of pruning. I know personally that it can be exhausting trying to teach a child the ways of Christ. It sometimes feels a lot simpler to leave them to their own devices, to say, “Yeah, sure, go do whatever. I’m sure you’ll turn out alright. It’s in your nature.” Right. There would be fewer arguments, for sure.

A parent serves no one, least of all their child, or the world, when they do not correct, admonish, and teach virtue, in word and example. A child’s passions may grow in strength and conviction, but if those passions are disordered, they will be like the suckers, stealing from the good fruit that is meant to grow. If their passions are well-ordered, they will be like the true leaves that reach out to the sun, feeding the rest of the plant as it climbs to heaven.

So I am thankful to my friend, the Tomato Whisperer, not only for the plants and advice, but for the wisdom he and they have shared with me. When I see my beautiful tomatoes growing, seeking out what’s left of the sun as they ripen on the vine, I see an image of man well-ordered, fulfilling his purpose and serving God in beauty and goodness. And I am encouraged to fight the fight, run the race, and keep good faith. Our children were created by God, and for God. He will draw them to himself if they only can remember to seek the Son.