Green Is Stronger
Some of you who have lived near Short Pump for a long time will know, it’s not always been like it is today. Today it is a happening place. In this season especially, it is spilling over with shoppers and stress and enough traffic to give you a headache just thinking about it.
But twenty years or so ago, there was none of that. I remember when there was nothing but trees across from Short Pump Elementary. I remember when the service station there at the corner of Pump and Broad still had that upended airplane sticking out of its roof. And I remember Shorty’s gas station. In my 5-year-old mind, I thought of Shorty’s as a country version of 7-Eleven. There was a sort of comfort that came from driving by its familiar, rustic presence. It smiled at us in an old country way whenever we passed by.
And so it was no little thing, when one day the building that was Shorty’s was dismantled. Not only that, but all the trees behind and around Shorty’s were razed to the ground. What was once a simple, sympathetic corner station, was now nothing but a wasteland of weeds, a wilderness without warmth. What once gave a friendly nod and said, “Howdy,” as we passed by, now uttered nothing more than a sorrowful sigh.
For years, the land on that corner lot remained sad and empty. I never paid it much attention until a few years ago—when my own eyes were surprised to see trees where before there had only been weeds! The glory and majesty of this green growth grabbed me with joy and gladness. The trees were singing a song of praise and thanksgiving. The land was alive again.
Apparently, the same sort of thing happens all over the world. I read recently that the rainforests are growing back in places where they had been bulldozed and burned to the earth. How relentless trees and plants and vines are. They cannot be repressed. They are, in a sense, irresistible.
Green is quietly stronger than our machines.
The Wilderness Is Glad, the Desert Is Singing
What I saw in that corner lot where Shorty’s once stood, and what we see all over this earth, is the mysterious gospel that Isaiah proclaims today. In today’s scripture, Isaiah rhapsodizes about blossoms and streams, about reeds and rushes. He sings about the green joy of creation.
But in the chapter before today’s scripture, the picture is entirely the opposite. There he speaks the language of death and decay. He talks about rotting and withering, about thorns and nettles and thistles, about a barren wilderness dominated by hyenas and hawks (34:4, 13-15). It is Isaiah’s colorful way of saying that the people of Israel’s self-destructive ways are about to catch up with them. And we know that this is true. To live by the sword is to die by the sword: as Israel neglected the love of God and sought worldly power, so they fell to the powers of the world.
Isaiah sees this fateful future and mourns the death and decay that fills his vision. But that death and decay is not the end of the story. In today’s scripture, Isaiah sees a bit further and proclaims what might be called a gospel of greenness. Looking out across the vast wasteland of Israel’s destruction, Isaiah sees the most curious thing: the wilderness is glad, the desert is singing. The earth that has been razed to its roots is now rejoicing. How strange! You’d think that such a fate would lead it to sorrow and sighing, not gladness and singing.
But having seen the transformation of the wasteland where Shorty’s once stood, I now have an inkling of the green gospel that Isaiah announces. The land is never completely silenced. It’s as though Isaiah hears the land vibrantly proclaim, “You can burn us, flood us, tear us up beyond all recognition…but you will never silence the Godly greenness from which comes our life.” And indeed, Isaiah sees the green beginnings of life blossoming across the land once more: he sees crocuses blooming where before there had been nothing, pools of waters where there had been sand, and reeds and rushes where there had been thorns.
We Are a Part of This Green Creation
But why all this focus on trees and water and blossoms? It’s inspirational, perhaps, but what does it have to do with us? What did it have to do with the people of Israel after they had fallen to the oppressive power of foreign empires?
What if Isaiah is telling us that the story of the wasteland—which is also the story of Shorty’s and the story of the rainforests—is also our story? What if Isaiah is inviting us to join with the rest of creation—or rather, to realize that we are a part of this green creation, that the green joy of God overtakes us as it does the rest of creation? If this is so, then Isaiah’s gospel for us is the gospel of greenness. It proclaims that nothing can extinguish life. Even when we are empty and lifeless and languishing in the shadow of death, even when we cannot see, cannot hear, cannot move, cannot find a single word to say—even then, there is among us and within us the tiny, green, budding promise of life.
For Isaiah, it is this promise of life that brings joy. What a timely reminder for us. In this season especially, folks confuse joy with certain outward signs of cheer, or with the feeling that these things bring. Folks confuse joy with big presents, lively gatherings, and sumptuous meals, or with the warm, fuzzy feelings of such things. This isn’t to say that Isaiah is against presents or gatherings or feasts or warm, fuzzy feelings. It’s only to say, rather, that he cares more about what’s behind these things, the unseen joy that inspires these things, that inspires us even when we don’t have these things.
For Isaiah, joy has nothing to do with the glass being full or the glass being empty, but with the promise of a pitcher that is always pouring more water. Joy has nothing to do with the forest or the wasteland, but with the irresistible green power that inspires life in either place. Joy is what inspired those trees on the weeded wilderness where Shorty’s once stood. Joy is what inspires those rainforests that keep coming back.
And this same irresistible joy, according to Isaiah, is what inspires us.
Death Does Not Have the Final Word
A short time ago, I attended a memorial service where I reunited with a couple of my cousins. One of them has a young old son, Luke, who has Joubert’s Syndrome. He walks with a firm limp, often requiring the aid of a walker, and he socializes with the simplest of gestures and words. He may also live a shorter life than many of us. On top of these complications, Luke also recently lost his mother and his grandfather to cancer. His circumstances are not what we would characterize as joyful.
We commonly hear at funerals and memorial services that death does not have the final word. At this memorial service, I saw that this is true. Because Luke, who has confronted death time and time again, was full of life. When the choir sang a beautiful anthem, he alone rejoiced with great applause. At the reception, he leapt around in his walker with the spring-step of a deer. His smile blossomed and brought joy to whomever he encountered. He was the “greenest” spirit around. His evergreen presence at that memorial service led people from “sorrow and sighing” to “joy and gladness.”
Joy:
All of Creation Believing in the Song That the Creator Sings
Little Luke helped to open my eyes to the truth of joy. Joy is not the conviction that things will turn out well, that we will all live happily ever after. Such a joy would be proved false and empty. Not everything has turned out well for Luke.
Joy, instead, means trusting that the life God gives us, and the love that we share, is good and beautiful and true, regardless of how everything turns out.
Joy is not a guarantee of happiness. Joy did not prevent the corner lot where Shorty’s stood from being razed to its roots, nor does it protect the rainforests from destruction at the hand of greedy corporations. Joy is simply the irresistible, evergreen spirit that inspires life. Joy is life believing in the goodness of life. It is all of creation believing in the song that the Creator sings.
Joy is the reason that the wilderness of Shorty’s blossomed once more. Joy is the reason that Luke was found frolicking at a funeral, bursting with life in the face of death. Joy is the reason that Jesus came to us years ago, keeps coming to us today—insistent that the life God gives us is good and beautiful and true.
Joy to the world, indeed—for it is through the God’s green joy that this world leaps back to life, again and again.
Prayer
Evergreen God,
Whose irresistible joy
Inspires blossoms in the dry desert
And abundant life at funerals—
May the empty and sorrowful spaces in our hearts
Become fertile ground for the new life
That your joy brings.
In the name of our song, Jesus Christ.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment