Digging in the Dirt (John 8 & 9)
“It is, for me, a kind of prayer. Digging in the soil, mixing with my hands old, dead, and depleted soil with new, dark and saturated, enriched with compost soil. It is so satisfying to participate in the transformation—with the hope of new life; seeds gently pressed into the amalgam. Dirty fingernails and an aching back have been life-giving. The hope of sprouting seeds and blossoming plants have sustained me as I try to balance the horror of daily news with an attempt at some order in the midst of chaos.”—Rev. Robin White
Wing + Prayer
By The Reverend Robin White
PENDLETON South Carolina—(Hubris)—May 2025—All I have wanted to do these past several weeks, is to get down on my knees and sink my hands in dirt.
It is, for me, a kind of prayer. Digging in the soil, mixing with my hands old, dead, and depleted soil with new, dark and saturated, enriched with compost soil. It is so satisfying to participate in the transformation—with the hope of new life; seeds gently pressed into the amalgam. Dirty fingernails and an aching back have been life-giving. The hope of sprouting seeds and blossoming plants have sustained me as I try to balance the horror of daily news with an attempt at some order in the midst of chaos.
It is reported that exposure to microorganisms in dirt protects us from anxiety and depression, boosts concentration and focus, and stimulates the body’s production of serotonin. I can attest to the validity of these claims as I continue to dig deep and struggle to stay grounded in the midst of utter insanity.
In the Gospel of John, the teachers of the law and the Pharisees try to trap Jesus; cast a woman accused of adulatory into the crowd gathered around the Rabbi as he teaches in the temple courts.
Confronted by the religious leaders and their “Law of Moses,” Jesus kneels and digs his hands into the dirt. Was he really writing in the dirt? If so, whatever he seemed to write was not so important as to have been recorded in the story.
Was he stalling while gathering his thoughts? Or was he so angered by the audacity of the accusers that he needed a moment to ground himself, perhaps by praying, with soil sifting through his fingers?
Did he need a moment to focus before addressing those gathered around him? Perhaps he dug into the dirt as a way of humbling himself before the helpless, terrified woman whose fate seemed written in stone.
But, once again, Jesus, challenged by “what is written,” flips it on its head and his response to the test put to him is brilliant. One by one, the accusers turn and walk away.
In the very next chapter of John, Jesus bends down and again places his fingers in the dirt. This time, he mixes the dirt with his own spittle and wipes the mixture on the eyes of a blind man who then receives sight. Certainly, Jesus didn’t need to compound a concoction in order to perform the miracle, so why did he do it?
Once again, the question arises, why dirt? What is the significance of soil in John’s record?
The word “dirt” is found first in Middle English and is thought to have been borrowed from the Old Norse word “drit,” meaning excrement. Dirt is that which is considered unclean. It is a substance that soils someone or something. And yet, digging in dirt promotes health, increases cognitive function, and enhances concentration. In several religious and cultural contexts, soil is sacred.
The etymology of dirt from “drit” gives “holy shit” a whole new meaning.
I have a tiny handful of soil collected from Chimayo in New Mexico. People from all walks of life make pilgrimages to the shrine there, believing it possesses healing powers. I don’t know if my bit of dirt from that sacred place contains any power to heal, but I do know that my hands in the dirt, the holy “drit” in Pendleton, South Carolina is healing, grounding and life giving.
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Robin White
The Rev. Robin Kaye White grew up in a farming community in Central New York State: she is descended, on both sides of her family, from dairy farmers, and is most alive, still, in rural North American landscapes. A voice major, she studied Music at Ithaca College; then earned her MDiv at Lancaster Theological Seminary and did graduate work at Princeton Seminary and The Theological Institute of Advanced Theological Research in Jerusalem, Israel. Ordained in the Presbyterian Church (USA), White was recently a Co-Moderator of the National Board of More Light Presbyterians. In the summer of 2023, she served as Bridge Pastor at Mount Auburn Presbyterian Church in Cincinnati Ohio. White is passionate about liturgy—“the work of the people”—and preaching. In her sermons, she strives to illuminate the original context of scripture and tease out its messages for the fraught present. She has had the privilege of “holding space” for the dying and their loved ones and experiences this ministry of presence as a gift: she is most willing to go with people as they journey to desert places. She states: “I have lived my life by adhering to Paul’s words in his letter to the church at Rome, ‘Rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep.’” She is just as likely, though, to quote Rachel Held Evans as St. Paul: “This is what God’s kingdom is like: a bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or worthy or good, but because they are hungry, because they said yes. And there’s always room for more.” A Lesbian-Pescaterian-Presbyterian, Reverend White is most alive out of doors, whether hiking, biking, kayaking, golfing . . . or just sitting on a rock. (Banner and Author photos: E.B.-Herring; Author Head Shot Augment: René Laanen.)