(Genesis 1.9-13, 20-25 & Luke 13.18-19) Creation 2
8 September 2019 – © Neil Millar
Magpie, magpie, dive on me,
Swoop down from your holy tree;
As I pass the flower bed
Stick your beak into my head.
Magpie, magpie, make a hole,
Through my head into my soul:
As I pass beneath the sun
Bring my troubled head undone.
Magpie, magpie it is spring
Is my soul a happy thing?
As I pass around the tree
Make a hole so you can see.
Michael Leunig
In Australia, the season of Creation aligns with the coming of Spring, and, what could be more Australian than a poem from Michael Leunig. So, how are the Maggies in your street? Has anyone been swooped yet?
During the season of Creation, congregations are encouraged to contemplate their place in the community of things, to reflect on their responsibility to care for God’s world, a world increasingly under stress, and suffering, because of human domination and exploitation. Rather than fostering our sense of connection and solidarity with the natural world (as with indigenous traditions), Western attitudes and practices have tended to alienate us and this has resulted in widespread degradation. Last week, I spoke about the sickening of the oceans.
There is a desperate need for change in the way modern economies operate, a need for what Pope Francis calls ‘ecological conversion’, and the church has a vital part to play in this. Drawing on the teaching and example of people like Saint Francis of Assisi (from whom the Pope has drawn his name) and Hildegard of Bingen, we can remind people of our kinship with all creation – the plants and animals, the oceans and the elements. Francis sensed this kinship clearly and spoke lovingly to Brother Sun and Sister Moon, to Brothers Wind and Air, and to Sister Water. According to one legend, Francis once called out to an almond tree in mid-winter, ‘Sister, speak to me of God’, and at once (it is said) the tree burst into bloom.
Well, it’s a lovely story, and it brings me to our focus for this week, which has been designated as flora and fauna Sunday. That’s a massive theme and it’d be easy to get lost in generalities. But it’s in the particulars that our ecological conversion takes place. So, this morning I’d like to invite you to ponder with me one aspect of our life in the world and that’s our connection with trees and particularly trees in our neighbourhood. And as we gather in our beautiful old stone and timber building, surrounded by oaks, and no doubt some edgy Magpies, let me encourage you to think about making friends with a tree.
Now, before you call mental health to have me committed, bear with me. It isn’t as crazy as it sounds. For a start, think of the critical place trees have in our faith tradition. The ‘tree of life’, for example, mentioned in Genesis 2, and again in Revelation 22 – standing beside the river of life, with leaves: ‘for the healing of the nations’ (22.2). In the very centre of the Christian story, we hear of Jesus (a shoot from the stump of Jesse) hanging on a tree for our sins. These trees play a vital part in the story of redemption, and there are others…In Isaiah, the trees of the field clap their hands, bearing witness to the liberation of God’s people! There are the famous cedars of Lebanon; there’s Elijah’s broom tree; the broad-leafed tree that shaded Jonah while he brooded over Nineveh; there’s the wild olive of Paul’s letter to the Romans; the fig tree of the gospels; the almond tree in Amos’s vision, and on it goes.
Trees provide us with key images for understanding what it means to be a faithful servant of God. We’ve already referred to that tree planted by the stream in Psalm 1 – a symbol of rootedness and trust. Trees also remind us of the importance of seeding, greening, fruiting, shading; they point us to virtues such as stability, patience, endurance, generosity, hospitality, contentment…
And it’s not just by way of symbolism that trees enlighten the spiritual life. They actually assist us on the way. I imagine that many of you can remember times when you’ve been soothed and strengthened in the presence of a tree?? And, think of Zacchaeus, the tax collector mentioned in Luke 19. Zacchaeus was short and if it hadn’t been for a sycamore tree, he would’ve missed out on seeing Jesus on the day he passed through his village. Perched in that tree, Zacchaeus not only saw but was seen by Jesus, and the encounter transformed his life.
In recent years, we’ve discovered that trees communicate with each other. If you’ve read The Secret Life of Trees, or The Songs of Trees, you’ll know something about this. It’s incredible. And, I wonder, could they… might they also communicate with us? It would be easy to dismiss this as the fancy of fairy tales, but then I think of the story of Moses and the burning bush (Exodus 3), and it doesn’t sound so silly. Some of you have heard of ‘dadirri’, an indigenous practice of deep listening and awareness. And it seems to me that if we really do want to transform our relationship to the natural world, we must dare to seek out that relationship – to begin to listen and learn from our other-than-human neighbours. ‘Every single creature is a word of God’, Meister Eckhart said. What ‘word’ might be revealed to us, what word might we hear, if we took time to listen to the trees in our neighbourhood?
Well, how might we begin? Maybe we could start by going for a wander in the garden or down the street. And let a tree catch our eye. And then spend some time with it – give it a pat, put your ear to its trunk. Be conscious of its presence – breathe in its rich clean oxygen and offer your breath back… That’s how it works, we breathe for each other. And then, if you’re game, maybe offer a few words. Tell it what you notice, how you feel, what you appreciate. It’s probably best to make sure no one’s looking, but, hey, what’s the worst thing that could happen?
You may already know about this, but a few years ago, councils in Melbourne assigned email addresses to public trees in order that people could report on their condition. It was done with a purely functional purpose in mind, but a strange and lovely thing happened… People began to write to the trees themselves. My dearest Ulmus, one message began. As I was leaving St. Mary’s College today, I was struck, not by a branch, but by your radiant beauty. You must get these messages all the time. You’re such an attractive tree.
Here’s one, from a student, addressed to Green Leaf Elm, ID 1022165, dated 29 May 2015: I hope you like living at St. Mary’s. Most of the time I like it too. I have exams coming up and I should be busy studying. You do not have exams because you are a tree. I don’t think that there is much more to talk about as we don’t have a lot in common, you being a tree and such. But I’m glad we’re in this together. Cheers, F
Actually, that email received a response dated 29 May 2015: Hello F, I do like living here. I hope you do well in your exams. Research has shown that nature can influence the way people learn in a positive way, so I hope I inspire your learning. Best wishes, Green Leaf Elm, Tree ID 1022165
Dear Moreton Bay Fig, another email reads,
You are beautiful. Sometimes I sit or walk under you and feel happier. I love the way the light looks through your leaves and how your branches come down so low and wide it is almost as if you are trying to hug me. It is nice to have you so close, I should try to visit more often…You remind me to be as strong and beautiful as you are.
There are over 4000 messages recorded, but here’s just one more: Hello tree. I don’t actually know you, but recently I’ve been wondering what trees say. A friend of mine gave me your contact information, so I thought I would go straight to the source. So here is my question: What would you tell people if you could speak?
Well, there’s a question, but perhaps the critical questions is: What would you tell people if they could listen…?
So, some homework, if you’re game. Spend some time with a tree this week. Listen, and let it speak! Be patient… don’t expect it all at once – trees are reserved, they’re not in a rush. We need to slow down if we’re going to make friends, we need to wait for their wisdom. Then again, they are wise, they’ve spent a lot of time observing, and they are faithful, they make good friends.
And let’s also talk about trees. Let’s share about some of the special trees in our lives. I imagine most of us have them –a tree from our childhood, a tree in our garden. I’ve been reading about the elm trees that grew outside St Ninian’s – wow, what those trees witnessed over those many years. Let’s share our tree stories, help each other become more aware and grateful for these wonderful neighbours with whom we share life.
On the whole, as Pope Francis has written, we don’t have a great relationship with creation. We can do better and here’s a small way to start – make friends with a tree. ‘What was it you said?’; Anthony de Mello wrote, ‘You’ve heard dozens of birds sing and seen hundreds of trees? If you look at a tree and see a tree, you have not really seen the tree. When you look at the tree and see a miracle – then, at last, you have seen!’ And, may it be so… for each of us. Amen.
References
https://www.abc.net.au/news/2018-12-12/people-are-emailing-trees/10468964