“Trees offer us the solution
to nearly every problem facing humanity today, from defending against drug
resistance to halting global temperature rise, and they are eager to share
those answers. They do so even when we can’t or won’t hear them. We once knew
how to listen. It is a skill we must remember.”
I encountered these words of
botanist and medical biochemist Diana Beresford-Kroeger in the introduction to
her book, “To Speak for the Lives of Trees.”
There is no prophet who
spoke as much about trees as Isaiah. Isaiah uses a variety of trees and other
natural elements to describe the kindom of God, to explore faithfulness and
wholeness, and to symbolize and articulate spiritual concepts. Isaiah’s tree
imagery, along with other examples from creation, invites listeners to hear and
receive the prophetic message. Every Advent we hear the words from Isaiah.
Today it is the word a shoot shall come out from the stump of Jesse, and a
branch shall grow out of his roots (Is. 11: 1)
In a world where human
activity causes harm, where areas have been deforested and turned to desert, where
animal habitats have declined and species have become extinct, and where war
has scarred and poisoned the earth, words of shoots growing is an image of
welcome relief – a spark of hope.
Isaiah, with words connecting
us to remembrances of earth and its creatures, presents God’s kindom as a
garden – returning humanity to its roots: In
the beginning, God… through Advent a coming, in the future, where the
wolf shall live with the lamb; the leopard shall lie down with the kid; the
calf and the lion will feed together…
the cow and the bear shall
graze … they will not hurt or destroy on all my holy
mountain, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters
cover the sea. (Is. 11: 6-9)
As quoted earlier, Diana
Beresford-Kroeger writes, “We once knew how to listen. It is a skill we must
remember.” The season of Advent is one of waiting and preparing. Last week we
heard of the ancient Gregorian Advent prayers beginning ‘Stir up.’ Is it
possible that our ancestors – those living in closer relationship with the
earth- set up Advent as a pause for listening? Listening for prophetic word.
Listening for the coming of the Lord. Listening for hope, peace, joy, and love.
And in listening to be stirred up, to work on our relationships with God and
with earth and its creatures?
The psalmist pauses to
listen. With a stirred up spirit the psalmist poetically describes connection
between the mountains and God’s coming. May the mountains yield prosperity
for the people, and the hills, in righteousness. An ancient understanding
where human relationship with the earth is necessary for God’s kindom to come. While
the sun endures, as long as the moon… like rain that falls on the mown grass,
like showers that water the earth … then will righteousness flourish and
peace abound.
The Apostle Paul’s theology
is rich with an understanding that the earth groans as if in labour pains,
until humanity lives in right relationship with God and creation. Paul could
have chosen any number of passages to confirm Jesus’ identity, yet in today’s
reading, specifically chooses to quote Isaiah’s from the root of Jesse. Paul
chooses Isaiah’s image of a stump – a once tree- and declares Jesus as the sprouting
shoot. In this choice of image, Paul captures humanity’s deep desire to move
from that which is dead to new life and growth. The sprouting shoot image produces
instant emotion and a sense of steadfastness, encouragement, hope. Stirring
up memory of trees and forest has the affect of us wanting to live in harmony
with one another – and this in turn grows joy and peace with
an abundance of hope.
Ancient wisdom, biblical and
otherwise, reveres trees and the forest. Forests were planted long before human
beings. Trees have appeared in human stories from the beginning; remember the
stories from the Garden of Eden, the tree of knowledge and the tree of life. Walking
among trees has been found in writings from Roman antiquity, from the Middle Ages,
and practiced in Japanese culture as forest-bathing. This is with mindfulness
and gratitude walking in forests. Scientific studies show that such a practice reduces
stress, improves physical and mental health, and increases oxygen in the brain.
A more philosophical view is that one becomes aware of beauty, relationships in
the ecosystem, and a lived experience of grace found in imperfection and
impermanence. In the forest humans experience awe, a coming close of God, a
connection with the Divine Mystery.
I wonder how much
forest-bathing the Sadducees and Pharisees practiced in the time of John the
Baptist? I wonder if they took time to
pause and walk through groves of olive trees or pray under the shade of sycamores?
Did they gently pick figs from low hanging branches? Tree and creation imagery
from the Gospel of Matthew gives me the opposite feeling from the prophecy of
Isaiah. Matthew’s imagery is crass and hard to hear. Matthew writes of the
wilderness, locusts, and camel’s hair. He speaks of a brood of vipers, threshing
floors, and axes ready at the root of trees. These last images pointedly
describe a human failure in living God’s covenant, moving away from connection
with and for others, and a lack of responsibility for their own actions.
Matthew returns to an ancient motif, encouraging the bearing of good fruit, fruit
worthy of repentance, and wheat that has been separated from chaff.
Matthew, along with the
other readings for the second Sunday of Advent, are directing our attention -
and hopefully a following of our hearts and wills- to our deep rootedness and
connection to all things.
As I thought about Matthew’s
brood of viper language, I thought about how the Gospels describe the supposed
righteous and their disconnectedness with the actual people around them. I
considered the pointing of fingers at those failing to live God’s Law or rather
living the letter of the Law and not living into the actual loving of one’s neighbour,
and stranger, and enemy. And then I thought, am I in the brood of viper camp and
the imagery of Matthew or am I in the coming of Isaiah’s prophecy where they
will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be full of
the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.
On this second Sunday of Advent
we focus on the theme of ‘Earth as Home.’
When it comes to trees and
forests, my bones, heart, and will, are grounded in the beginning when God
created. I feel rooted – and in this season, as deciduous trees are shaking
off remaining leaves and evergreens are lush and tall, in their quiet time, I am
drawn to them to listen. Trees are connected, always have been to the Creator-
the one coming who makes all things new.
There is tension for me, perhaps
you feel it too, as Christmas draws near. The season is filled with humanity at
its best and at its worst, much like the peaceful images of Isaiah and the
crass images of Matthew. In our actions God’s kindom comes near or brokenness expands.
Professor Robin Kimmerer
wrote, “Though the Earth provides us with all that we need, we have created a
consumption-driven economy that asks, ‘What more can we take from the Earth?’
and almost never ‘What does the Earth ask us in return?’”
Kimmerer in the same article
writes, “in the teachings of my Potawatomi ancestors, responsibilities and
gifts are understood as two sides of the same coin. The possession of a gift is
coupled with a duty to use if for the benefit of all. A thrush is given the
gift of song – and so has a responsibility to greet the day with music. Salmon
have the gift of travel, so they accept the duty of carrying food upriver. So
when we ask ourselves, what is our responsibility to the Earth, we are also
asking, “What is our gift?”
-Question What Does Earth
Ask of Us: Returning the Gift, Robin Kimmerer: www.Centerhumansandnature.org
What is our gift?
As we prepare for Christmas
what is our gift? For the Christ-child? For our neighbours, the stranger, our
enemies? For trees? For creation? For earth? For our home?
The trees are entering a quiet
time and in their action signal to us that we need to quiet ourselves too.
In the quiet we are able to listen
…and by the grace of God reconnect with life.
So that with the psalmist we sing, may God’s
glory fill the whole earth. Amen and amen.
