That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
whatever they do prospers.
--Psalm
1:3
Last month Mira and I got to spend a wonderful weekend in
the Redwood forest witnessing the beginning of her brother Justin's marriage to
his, now, wife, Lilita. It was a wonderful time of community, celebration,
sharing, and being in nature with friends and family. I am in awe of his circle
of many many friends, who, filled with talent and vision, also provide a love
and caring for one another that is unrivaled, even in church communities. We
felt so welcomed and loved, engaging in deep conversations, laughing, dancing,
playing music, and just being together. There was little anxiety about how things
were going to get done (believe it or not there is a lot of preparation that
goes into a camping wedding!), because people just did the work necessary, with
glad smiles on their faces and in their hearts, because of their love for
Justin and Lil. I was humbled to see this and be a small part of this community
for a bit. The lesson is that when you love someone so much, you just do what
it takes with joy in your heart.
But what I was really struck by, in that time in Northern
California, are those great trees. I learned from the National Park Service
website that the average age of the redwoods is between 500 and 700 years old,
and that some of the biggest ones are up to 2000 years old. This means that
most of these trees were between saplings and adolescent trees when Columbus
began his American invasion, and by the time the American revolution rolled
around in 1776, the majority of that forest that exists today was already
between 300 and 400 years old. Of course, the oldest of the trees were just sprouting
out of the ground when Jesus was born! As we witnessed the removal of the large
tree in front of the parsonage this week (“measley” 3 ½ feet in diameter and
only 39 years old!), I thought about those old trees and how many more of them
there must have been before mass human habitation. The ones that remain have
seen it all--although they have only seen it all from where they were planted.
Imagine spending your entire life in literally the same exact place, not moving
a single foot! Now imagine spending 20 more of those lives in the same place!
Their lives firmly planted in the soil with roots spreading over a hundred feet
away from their trunk, and encountering and witnessing life from a permanent
position. It is grand and humbling, especially considering how much running
around we humans do, declaring material things that we have made or bought as
extremely important, and worrying about events that haven't happened yet. As I
write this, I am worried about Mira and Auggie traveling, and how I'm going to
cope without them for the next few days. But when I worry and rush, I miss out
on the smiles Auggie is dishing out for free. I miss an opportunity to talk
with my neighbor. I lose touch with the things that really do bring me joy,
satisfaction, and contentment. While I am not an animist, I can't help but
learn this simple and wise lesson from the trees: “God is always good. God will
always provide. Live well, do your part, and God will let you know when its
over.” I imagine that if they really did talk, it would be in a voice similar
to Alan Rickman or James Earl Jones, rich and full.
Perhaps the community that formed in that grove of sequoias
can inform me a bit in how I am with the people around me in the same way those
trees informed the wedding party itself. Don’t constantly have an agenda with
people. Just simply be present to them, the same way God calls us to presence
with God. The same way the trees are a constant presence to whatever community
forms in their midst. I pray that we as a human race can one day let go of the
formation of strategies and structures that tie us down, and simply seek the
real presence of the One and the ones in our midst.
Eric
