Psalm 1; Jeremiah 10; John 17:9-17; May 12, 2024; Mother’s Day
Mondays are my day off. And typically, if the weather is agreeable, I like to take long drives on forgotten, unmapped roads through the outskirts of Bucks County, up across the river over to Frenchtown, and into the farmlands of New Jersey. And yes, there are farms in Jersey. Lots of them; and green rolling hills too. They call it the Garden State for a reason, despite what the Turnpike and Newark Airport and people born in Philadelphia would have you believe.
Anyway, this past Monday, I took a similar path up to my father’s house in Basking Ridge to celebrate his seventy-seventh birthday. 77. Can you believe that? But this time, I crossed the river at Milford rather than Frenchtown and soon after I found myself on a back country road that followed along a winding, shallow creek.
Or was it a stream? What’s the difference? Anyone know? Well, along this creek or stream, I saw some great boulders, some dancing butterflies, and lots of magnificent trees. Huge, old trees. Trees that had been around for years, and that had seen some things. And amidst this lush scenery, there were also some homes. Homes that were old too but lacking in that old-timey character, if you know what I mean. Homes that had seen some things, and as a consequence, had fallen into disrepair and some bit of ruin.
There was this one house in particular that caught my eye. A mean sort of house with some shingles missing, asbestos siding, and a rusted-out car sitting on some blocks; a motionless tire-swing, a scarecrow even, and lots of wooden signs strewn about all over the front yard. Most of the signs, due to some chemistry of time and weather, were altogether unintelligible, while others are simply not worth mentioning here today. But as I said, it was a mean sort of house, if you get my drift. Except for this one feature: a stunning red maple tree standing by its side.
It was both beautifully big and vibrant. And the way the sun passed through its leaves one could easily be convinced that red is indeed the best of all colors. I would have slowed to a stop, but then in my mirror, I saw that I was not alone. So, on I went, but that tree and its house remained in the forefront of my brain and claimed residence over my thoughts the rest of the way.
And so, I wondered about when that tree was planted and by whom. I wondered if there were initials carved into it, or if a dog ever laid beneath it. I wondered perhaps if a small child ever climbed up it, and then looked back into the window of the living room beside it. And that just maybe the child’s mother looked over at the same time, and lifting her eyes above her book, smiled and froze that moment for all of time. Such that there over her shoulders, in picture frames that lined the staircase, would hang a new photo near the rest, of laughter and hugs, and Christmas trees and parties, first crawls and baby steps, and the hope of what may come.
You see, all it took for me was a tree. A tree to color and blind me to the rest. And isn’t it amazing what our imaginations can accomplish? Such that despite all evidence given to the contrary, a tree can give us hope that life can be fathomed even near ruin, and perhaps, even death.
That life can be fathomed even near ruin, and perhaps, also death.
—–
“I am asking on their behalf; because they are yours; protect them so that they may be one, as we are one,” Jesus says. — John 17:9
And he says these words even near his own death, for this is his last discourse before he is ruined and betrayed by one of his own and handed over to the Romans to be crucified.
And yet, knowing all of this, and the pain of the outcome which awaits him, he prays in John, “protect them…” “on their behalf, protect them…” protect us.
Even though both they as his immediate disciples, and us as his future ones, will ultimately fail to understand and follow him, and even at times outright abandon him for other gods and idols, like money, and cars, if not even yachts and boats, he, Jesus, wishes to protect us.
And so, he goes to God for us and offers us a promise to always stand by our side, even when our houses of our faith fall into ruin.
For “while I was with them, I guarded them… But now I am coming to you, O God” he says, “I speak these things so that they may have my joy made complete in themselves.” – John 17:12-13
“So that they may have my joy complete in themselves.”
—–
Back when Seth was in kindergarten, all of us parents were asked to come in for ten minutes and read a book for the class. I imagine most brought in something colorful and cheerful, if not straightforward and easy. But I, true to form, didn’t, and brought in “The Giving Tree” instead by Shel Silverstein.
I remember distinctly that when I finished reading it, there was a silence over the young room, until one kid in particular raised her hand, and asked, “why did you read us something so sad?”
I remember looking at her and asking, “is it so sad? Hmm, maybe you’re right. But isn’t it amazing what our imaginations can accomplish? And to me, as a parent, I find it rather beautiful.”
For even when our kids leave us and run towards idols that perhaps don’t satisfy — the gold and silvery ornamental things of the world, as Jeremiah names them – and that we even though we as fathers and mothers might hurt some and feel alone and cry, we, as parents, as good and giving parents, will always be there, by the tire swing and scarecrow, waiting on their side.
Isn’t that right? Isn’t that right.
—–
“But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back, the tree was so happy she could hardly speak.
“Come, Boy,” she whispered, “come and play.”
“I am too old and sad to play,” said the boy.
“I want a boat that will take me far away from here. Can you give me a boat?”
“Cut down my trunk and make a boat,” said the tree.
“Then you can sail away…and be happy.”
And so the boy cut down her trunk and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy… but not really.
And after a long time the boy came back again.
“I am sorry, Boy,” said the tree,” but I have nothing left to give you – My apples are gone.”
“My teeth are too weak for apples,” said the boy.
“My branches are gone,” said the tree. ” You cannot swing on them – “
“I am too old to swing on branches,” said the boy.
“My trunk is gone, ” said the tree. “You cannot climb – “
“I am too tired to climb” said the boy.
“I am sorry,” sighed the tree.
“I wish that I could give you something….but I have nothing left. I am just an old stump. I’m sorry….”
“I don’t need very much now,” said the boy, “just a quiet place to sit and rest. I am very tired.”
“Well,” said the tree, straightening herself up as much as she could, “well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting. Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.”
And the boy did. And the tree was happy.”
—–
And Christ was happy.
“For on their behalf… protect them… so that they may have my joy made complete in themselves.”
My friends, Jesus, who sacrificed himself on a tree itself, losing life and limb for ourselves, is our giving tree; and has colored this gray life with vibrance and given us hope, such that here at church, we can sit down and rest in his shade.
And happy are we who delight in remembering this, down by streams or creeks of water, where leaves are bright and do not wither, even when we do.
Thanks be to God.
Amen
