I ran across this poem today. It’s an old sentiment (the poet, Li Shen, lived 772-846 CE), but still relevant.
COMMISERATE WITH THE FARMERS
They weed the crops in the middle of the day,
With sweat they plant the crops into the soil.
Does anyone know the rice served on a plate —
That each and every grain was soaked with toil?
It’s worth recalling, as well, that the “toil” is gendered, raced, and classed, in complex ways. The familiar grace (at least, our pastor frequently uses this formula) “bless this food, and the hands that prepared it” asks for a lot — perhaps as much as “. . . Thy Kingdom come.”
[The photo image is from the site Nepal Art Trek, produced by UK artist Rosemary Hale.]