What I’m about to tell you is true. Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only one seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.
May there be plenty of grain everywhere in the land. May it sway in the wind on the tops of the hills. May the crops grow well, like those in Lebanon. May they grow like the grass of the field.
Grain must be ground up to make bread. A farmer separates it out. But he doesn’t go on doing it forever. He drives the wheels of a threshing cart over it. But he doesn’t use horses to grind the grain.