Sunday, July 17, 2016
Biblical Text: Job 14
When I first came across this passage of scripture, particularly the reading from Job 14 I began to think about this particular tree that is planted in my mother-in-law’s backyard. The roots of my mother-in-law’s lemon tree reach deep down in the ground, in almost every picture of I’ve seen of the backyard this lemon has been present—steadily growing, steadily stretching forth its arms and bearing fruit in due season. At some point within the last several years her lemon tree fell upon hard times. It was not producing fruit as it should, and its leaves were lacking the strength and luster of its formative years in her backyard. The decision was made to cut the tree back, to trim back its branches and determine, later whether or not there was enough life left in the tree to for generate a come-back. The extravagant pruning commenced and the tree still did not fare well. The decision was then again, that the tree needed yet another stronger pruning and it was down low—a tree that once waved its arms 15 feet in the gentle Pacific breezes and photosynthesized in brilliant rays of the sun—was now a 2 foot stump.
The life it once knew was no more.
The enjoyment it once knew was no more.
The shade that it provided was no more.
The fruit that is bore was no more.
But what continued, as if the tree had never left its former state, was the steady and consistent care of the woman who drew a pot of water from the kitchen sink—and marched out to tree—all the while talking and singing— sometimes to the tree, and poured the water on the stump just like she had always done.
Trees often play a very unique roll in religious life and reflection. Very common is the tree the symbol of dogged-determination, life, longevity, survival and the power of renewal in the face is death and destruction. In the writing of our Christian mystic, the Morehouse trained theologian, Howard Thurman the tree is symbol of God steady and unrelenting presence of determination—of God, in our lives. Thurman invites us in a mediation entitle “I Will Not Give Up” to dare to act, be as determined, to be as faithful and strong as the tree.
What we know of the biblical narrative that is before us this morning is that Job’s life has been like that lemon tree in my mother-in-law’s backyard.
There have been days when he lived his life in grand prosperity.
There have been days when the sun has shone brightly upon his life.
There have been days when light rains fell and gave him renewed vigor.
There have been days when the gentle breeze helped him wave his arms in praise.
There have been days when the fruit grew to be sumptuous and juicy.
There have been days when birds found refuge in his branches.
There have been days when his life gave shade to other.
There have been days—days when life was altogether good.
But now he has been cut down, cut off
And is nothing more than 2 foot stump…
And it is from this place of despair and the utter sense of hopelessness of Job’s own life, that he begins his reflection on spirituality of a tree. Listen to his words again:
“Indeed there is hope for a tree. If it’s cut down and still sprouting and its shoots don’t fail, if its roots age in the ground and its stump dies in the dust, at the scent of water, it will bud and produce sprouts like a plant.”
You see my sisters and brothers—the message. The good new of the text this morning is that it really matters so very little what you look like to the eyes of those who are all around you—what matters most is are you rooted and grounded to the source of your strength and power.
Job was all messed up.
He lost his possessions.
He lost his servants.
He lost his wealth.
He lost his social standing.
He lost every single one of children—all ten!
And while the text does not pick up on the great tradegy of this loss, I cannot help but name it today. Especially when black lives—men, women and those in the transgender community—are being extinguished today by police officers.
Black folks burying their murdered their transgender rainbow children.
Black folks burying their murdered their strong and beautiful daughters.
Black folks burying their murdered their boys and men
We know what grief and loss is like.
We know what burying our children feels like.
And for as much loss and grieve we have, as much loss and grief as we have experienced since the beginning of time, in loosing our children—it is interesting to note that we do not have word in our developed sophisticated vocabulary to describe the loss of children.
There is not a single word in English.
There is not a single word in French.
There is not a single word in Spanish.
There is not a single word in German.
There is not a single word in Tagalog Japanese, Arabic, Zulu, Swahlili
There is not a single word in Turkish, Portuguese, Russian Hebrew, Greek.
How do we describe the depth and pain of our grief when even our language has failed—over the course several centuries—to describe a pain that seems to be too hard for us to even name?
And yet amid off his grief, his physical pain, and the worrisome friends who initially come to comfort but find themselves causing more confusion and pain—Job is connected the source.
Just like that the tree that is cut down, but whose roots run deep—Job is connected to his source. And it from that place of connection that Job feels free to say to God what is on his mind. It is from that place of connection that Job feels free speak directly to God about his situation—his present condition in life.
When you are rooted and grounded,
You don’t have to worry about being cut down
because you are connected to the source.
When you are rooted and grounded,
You don’t have to worry about what people think of you
Because you are connected to the source
When you are rooted and grounded,
You don’t have to worry about if people say of you
Because you are connected to the source.
When you are rooted and grounded,
You can live without fear of the future.
When you are rooted and grounded.
You can live without worry of tomorrow
When you are rooted and grounded.
You can live without distress over the times.
When you are rooted and grounded.
You can live without dread of what may be next.
When you are rooted and grounded.
You can live without panic and alarm.
Because at the very scent of water….
That which not only sustains our bodies, but also our community
That which symbolized new life, cleaning and fulfillment of God’s promises.
Job was rooted.
AND
Job was grounded.
He therefore did not need to worry about his life—which why in Chapter 19 he able to cry from desolate place—I know that my redeemer lives.
I know that I have an advocate.
Rooted and Grounded: I know that my redeemer lives.
I know that I have someone to plead my case.
Rooted and Grounded: I know that my redeemer lives.
I know that I have someone who knows my story.
Rooted and Grounded: I know that my redeemer lives.
I know that I have someone who will call for mercy.
Rooted and Grounded: I know that my redeemer lives.
I know that I have someone who will restore me—to my former glory.
Rooted and Grounded: I know that my redeemer lives.
I know that my someone will arise and come see about me.
Rooted and Grounded: I know that my redeemer lives.
And then in my flesh I shall see God.
Whom I shall see on MY side and my eyes shall behold,
And not another.
Well let me bring this thing to close:
Mother Love’s lemon stump is still there.
She continues to pour water at the stump.
But glory be God—its not the stump that it used to be.
That stump—has remained connected to source.
That stump has green shoots pushing through the side of the tree trunk
That stump has new leaves sprouting and new branches forming each day.
In whatever do,
In whatever you face in life journey—
If you are already rooted and grounded…stay grounded.
But if you aren’t—make that decision today,
Because there is life within you that longs to realized at your stump.
Amen. Amen. Amen.
