Peraya (ܦܐܪܐ)
Beloved, hear me: Life is given to bring forth, not to withhold. The tree does not hoard its fruit, nor the vine its clusters, nor the field its grain. In their season they yield, and the hungry are fed. So too must we be fruitful - not only in the womb, but in the spirit, in the hands, in the heart.
Do not think that fruitfulness belongs only to mothers, or to those whose bodies bear children. To nurture life is more than bearing it; it is to plant seeds of kindness, to speak words that heal, to give labor that sustains, to create beauty where there was none. A teacher who forms the mind is fruitful. A healer who restores the sick is fruitful. A craftsman who shapes what is broken is fruitful. Even one who listens with patience is fruitful, for they plant courage in the weary.
Fruitfulness is not measured in size but in presence. The fig tree may be small, yet its sweetness nourishes. The flower may fade quickly, yet its fragrance lingers. The smile of one who lifts another in sorrow may seem fleeting, yet it changes the day, and the day changes the life. Do not despise the small fruits you can bear; they are still gifts to the world.
Barrenness of spirit is not when the womb is empty, but when the heart refuses to give. One may have many children, yet be barren of compassion. Another may bear no child, yet nurture many with wisdom and kindness. Do not measure fruitfulness as the world does, but as the Holy One does - by what life springs forth from you into others.
You will say to me, “But what if I have little to give?” And I answer: give the little, for the little multiplies. The handful of flour, the drop of oil, the moment of time - offered in love, they grow beyond themselves. The seed is small, but it becomes the tree; the word is small, but it becomes the song; the touch is small, but it becomes the comfort.
The barren heart withholds, fearing to lose, and so it withers. But the fruitful heart gives, trusting to be filled, and so it abounds. For fruitfulness is not loss, but increase.
There once was a widow who had but one lamp. Each night she lit it, though her neighbors mocked her, saying, “Soon your oil will fail.” But each morning she found her jar still with oil, and the lamp never darkened. The neighbors came to her, asking, “How is this so?” She answered, “Because I did not keep the lamp for myself alone. I set it at the window, that others might see. And in giving its light, I was given more.”
So it is with Fruitfulness: the heart that gives is never empty, the life that shares is never barren.
