Trees Planted by Living Water: Reflections for the 6th Sunday after Epiphany

 

RCL Epiphany 6C

16 February 2025

 

Church of the Epiphany

Surrey BC

 

         Although I grew up as a city boy, I spent a fair piece of my youth camping, hiking, hunting and fishing in central Colorado where the Great Plains meet the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains.  In that environment you learn to pay attention to the trees.  

 

         The Front Range of the Rockies is covered with various kinds of fir and pine trees, but, when you reach the tree line, you know that you’re now about three thousand metres above sea level – less oxygen, more exposure to ultra-violet rays and little shelter.  There are also aspen trees mixed in with the firs and pines. They provide material to build shelters, but, in a wind storm, they tend to shed their limbs.  On the prairies aspen trees are a sure sign of water, whether on the surface or below.  Keeping an eye out for such trees on the prairies can also provide landmarks when hiking across open spaces.

 

         For the ancient Israelites living in an area of the eastern Mediterranean, trees were also an important feature of their physical world.  The mountain trees provided much needed strong and flexible building materials – remember the ‘cedars of Lebanon’ that were needed to build the Temple?  Other trees were cultivated for their fruit – figs and olives to name just two.  And, just as is the cased along the Front Range of the Rockies, trees are landmarks, sometimes marking boundaries between communities or indicating oases or other sources of water.

 

         So, when I first read the following words from the prophet Jeremiah, I knew that he and I had something deeply in common.  We both know how trees shape our physical and spiritual landscape. 

 

Blessed are those who trust in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord.  They shall be like a tree planted by water, sending out its roots by the stream.  It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit” (Jeremiah 17.7-8 NRSVue)

 

         Some trees, like some people, spread out their roots in a wide but shallow circle.  They may look lovely, but they have no ability to withstand significant changes in their environment.  Too much or too little rain will cause their grip on the soil to become unstable.  A strong wind will blow them down, causing widespread damage to the area around them.  I live across the street from a park filled with trees whose roots are not deep.  I pay close attention to the weather reports and I avoid walking in that park when there are wind warnings.  Many times I’ve heard the sounds of trees breaking or being torn from the ground.

 

         But there are some trees, like some people, whose roots go deep into the soil, seeking the water and the nutrients they need to flourish.  As Jeremiah says, they ‘shall not fear when heat comes, and (their) leaves stay green; in the year of drought (they are) not anxious, and (they do not) cease to bear fruit”.  I have just such a tree that grows tall in the corner where our backyard and the backyards of three neighbours meet.  True, when the wind storms come, it sheds some branches, but it remains secure.  Despite our changing weather, there are no signs that this tree is ready to fall.  Our tree is the home of squirrels, racoons and numerous species of birds.

 

         My friends, all Christian communities are like trees.  At some point in their history, these congregations were planted by some stream of living water or another.  That living water might have been a growing post-war neighbourhood or a small town.  That living water might have been a time of economic prosperity and social optimism.  That living water might have been a group of people who had a dream and were committed to provide the resources of time, talent and treasure necessary for the well-being of the congregation.

 

         I dare to say that we, living in the third decade of the twenty-first century, may feel that we are living in the heat and the dryness of a social and cultural drought.  Neighbourhoods are changing.  Economic conditions are uncertain and we can see pessimism and melancholy affect many friends, family members and neighbours.  While some congregations are growing in numbers and in the diversity of their membership, others are struggling to find volunteers to undertake the vital ministries begun by preceding generations.  As an Archdeacon, I’ve had to participate in bringing the ministry of several congregations to an end.

 

         When I saw that today’s Psalm was Psalm 1, my mind went back twenty-five years to working with Thomas Barnett, who once taught Hebrew Bible at one of Vancouver School of Theology’s founding colleges, the Anglican Theological College at UBC.  He wanted to provide a lively, fresh translation of the Psalms and I spent a number of years as a consultant on the project.  Tom took the ancient words of the Hebrew poets and turned them into fresh contemporary English, a reminder of the deep roots that continue to produce fruit in our times.  When I edited a daily prayer book for the Anglican Church of Canada, I made use of Tom’s translation of the Psalms.  Let me share his ‘colloquial’ translation of today’s Psalm 1.

 

Good for those who don’t take corrupt advice!  Who don’t go along with warped minds!  Who pay no attention to the mocking crowd!  They get their kicks from God’s teaching and think about it constantly.  They are like trees on the riverbank, giving plenty of fruit at harvest time, leaves always fresh.  They are successful in everything.  But it doesn’t go that way for creeps!  They are simply blown away.  The corrupt get their comeuppance in court; warped minds can’t keep company with just and faithful people.  God understands faithful people’s lifestyle.  As for the corrupt, their lifestyle is doomed.  (Songs for the Holy One 2004)

 

         Friends, we have our difficulties and our shortcomings, but we are a faithful people, seeking to do God’s work here.  We may not have a flashy life-style, but we have a way of being together that is life-giving and life-renewing.  We may feel disheartened from time to time, but we keep producing the fruit of faithful love and leaves that transform the light of God’s grace into works of kindness and generosity.

 

         Despite all the difficulties of the present times, I am convinced that most of our congregations have deep roots that wrap themselves around the rocks of faith and that seek the deep springs of water that nourish us in the hard times.  Our roots find sustenance in the Scriptures and our practice of proclaiming several readings on Sundays and other occasions provide the variety of spiritual nutrients we need to nurture our witness to the God of Jeremiah, of Paul and of Jesus.  Our roots reach out to connect with other communities that share our vision of God’s future and in those connections we discover not only neighbours but allies, co-workers with us in the restorative mission of God.  Our roots take hold of our traditions of worship, prayer and study, so that we drink deeply from the wisdom of our forebears in order to face new challenges with new ideas.

 

         Like most of the trees I’ve known since my birth, trees that sprung up from the soil before I was born and that will likely continue to thrive after my passing, this congregation of Epiphany and the many others like it in our Diocese knows that we’re in this for the long-haul, not years but decades of witness to the power of God that can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.  Next week our Vestry will consider steps to ensure that long-term future, but those steps won’t be accomplished in a year or two.  But we have deep roots that connect us with a whole forest of deep-rooted, sturdy trees that hold firm to the soil and produce the fruit of help, hope and home to the neighbourhoods in which they grow.