Friday, March 29
Readings: HOS 14:2-10; MK 12:28-34
In the first reading from Hosea, we hear the counsel to return to God after having gone astray. I couldn’t help but notice the many references to plant life and trees in this one brief passage. Have a look for yourself: I will be like the dew for Israel: he shall blossom like the lily; He shall strike root like the Lebanon cedar, and put forth his shoots; His splendor shall be like the olive tree and his fragrance like the Lebanon cedar. Again they shall dwell in his shade and raise grain; They shall blossom like the vine, and his fame shall be like the wine of Lebanon. Ephraim! What more has he to do with idols? I have humbled him, but I will prosper him. “I am like a verdant cypress tree“– Because of me you bear fruit!
God is speaking to us not only about the trees but through the trees!
Sadly, as I look around the United States, I’d conclude that our dominant culture could be the one described by Hosea. We have have “lost our way.”
And I do not think that it is coincidental that those who have “lost their way” are devouring our planet at an alarming rate. The dominant culture is “collapsing through its guilt” for having neglected to honor our relationship to the land, the water and the other creatures with whom we share this world.
I think often of so many indigenous cultures that speak of the “original instructions” that were given to each species. Nature has been faithful to its original instructions. Humans, but particularly humans in Western cultures, have not. Hosea’s reading convicts our way of life.
And Jesus offers what might be considered a summary of the “original instructions” given in scripture – Hear, O Israel The Lord our God is Lord alone! You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength. [and] You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
Were we to follow those original instructions, we would not be seduced by the false gods of profit, consumption, greed and individuality. Were we to love God with all our heart, mind and soul, we would not destroy the world we live in. Were we to love our neighbor as ourselves, we would address injustice and work to insure a future where all children will prosper.
A friend of mine from Detroit, Kim Redigan, recently wrote a blog post for radicaldiscipleship.net where she reflected specifically on trees and discipleship,
We lack the solidness, simplicity, beauty, and graciousness of those ancient trees mourned and celebrated in Palestine and Greece. Trees that throughout history and scripture have stood as silent sentries, witness bearers to the full range of human experience. Fruit trees that have been lovingly named and nurtured. Poplar trees used by good church-going folks to lynch their black neighbors on warm Sunday afternoons. Wide-armed trees that delight in offering cool respite to the tired traveler. Thick-trunked trees felled in their prime by corporations looking for profits.
Trees that will teach us if only we will listen.
To be a radical disciple for me means silently sitting at the feet of the trees in my life in order to learn what it means to stand still and grow deep roots without running away from home when what I am up against feels overwhelming. It means resisting the impulse to retreat into numbing addictions or mindless activism when my anger or sense powerlessness overcome me. It means letting the soil of my heart be composted by both grief and gratitude.
Hosea warns us, “let those who are wise understand these things; let those who are prudent know them.” May we be given the grace to understand, know and act.