Learning from the Generosity of Trees

This talk on Stewardship was given at the Dinner for Clergy and Lay Leaders of Christ Episcopal Church in Sausalito CA on on Monday November 9, 2020.

I’m deeply honored to be the special guest leader and preacher because Christ Church Sausalito is honestly one of my favorite Episcopal parishes in the world; and I still feel part of the Christ Church Sausalito family, which makes me love all the more this year’s stewardship theme: “We are Family.” And I feel even more connected now that my dear friends Roy and Carol Ann Falk are members. And I also feel connected thanks to my friendships with Andrew and Kathryn Lee and Deacon Alberta and many others; and of course, Father Chip, who played an essential role in my formation as a priest and in my call to Christ Church Eureka, where I serve now as rector, in the far reaches of the diocese of Northern California, beyond what people refer to as the “redwood curtain.” It’s a long but beautiful drive to get here.

Eureka is not far from the Oregon border and many of you likely know one of my neighbors up here: the Reverend Linda Lee, who was confirmed at Christ Church Sausalito. In fact, I served as the Bishop’s Chaplain at her confirmation. She was just ordained to the vocational diaconate a few months ago (at St. Timothy’s in Brookings OR). Fr. Chip was there. Recently, Linda emailed me and recommended a book titled The Overstory, a novelabout the often-overlooked relationship between us and trees. And this book was recommended to her by our mutual friends Mark Olsztyn and Marianna Gracey from Christ Church Sausalito. So the influence of the Christ Church family branches out far beyond Sausalito and Marin and even California.

Deacon Linda recommended this book to me because I lead outdoor Eucharist services among the redwoods here in Humboldt County. The services are called “Sacred Saunters,” something similar to the Holy Hikes in your diocese. And although our redwood church building is gorgeous and we call our church the “Cathedral of the North Coast,” the true cathedral is found among the redwoods.

            As I started reading this novel, it got me thinking about trees and the generosity of trees; and that’s what I want to explore with you tonight. I want to explore with you what trees can teach us about generosity and stewardship in the midst of uncertainty and challenging times.

I was reading through the Scripture lessons for Consecration Sunday, and I came across a fascinating reference to a tree in the lesson from the book of Judges (4:1-7). Now in this lesson, we learn about a powerful woman named Deborah who was a judge and prophetess among the Israelites. She was like a chief justice of the supreme court, a president, and spiritual leader all at the same time. Think of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Condoleezza Rice, Oprah, and Kamala Harris all rolled into one. And Deborah had a strong military general who worked under her whose name was (I’m not kidding) Barak. And with the help of Barak, Deborah defeated a cruel, oppressive, and greedy tyrant named Sisera; and Deborah has gone down in history as one of the great female leaders who served God and liberated her people.

This is all described in the short reading from Judges for Consecration Sunday, along with this detail about Deborah: that she used to sit under a palm tree (4:5). In fact, she sat under the palm tree so often that it became known as “The Palm of Deborah.” And I like to imagine that Deborah learned much about serving God and God’s people with grace, strength, and generosity from the tree under which she sat. I imagine her learning from the tree’s deep roots, steady trunk, and broad branches. And I want to reflect with you tonight on each of these parts of the tree: the roots, the trunk, and the branches.

The Tree’s Deep Roots

When Presiding Bishop Michael Curry preached at my Commencement at CDSP (one year exactly before preaching at Harry and Meghan’s Royal Wedding), he talked about the importance of planting our roots deep. He said if he had a title for his sermon it would be “the key to the fruit is always in the root.” (He was very pleased with that title.) I remember him roaring out these words, “Plant your roots deep in the soil of ancient traditions, deep in the soil of ancient wisdom, deep in the soil of time-tested ways that [help us] be in relationship with God and relationship with the world.” That’s how we produce fruit and remain steadfast and resilient during anxious times. That’s how we become like that tree planted by streams of water described by Jeremiah (Jer 17) [1] and by the psalmist in Psalm 1 (a psalm that I remember teaching at Children’s Mass at Christ Church). 

We plant our roots deep by engaging regularly in ancient spiritual practices, in those time-tested disciplines that connect us to God and to others. Part of the brilliance of the New Consecration Sunday program is that it stresses one of the most ancient spiritual disciplines that we know of. Our great father Abraham (the father of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam) engaged in this ancient practice, which likely preceded him. In Genesis 14, after receiving bread and wine and a blessing from a priest named Melchizedek, Abraham practiced the discipline of tithing. He gave one tenth of everything he had (Gen 14:20). We deepen our roots in the soil of ancient wisdom when we tithe, when we give a percentage of our annual income to the Lord, specifically a tenth of our annual income (or more). Tithing is our faithful response to God’s abundant grace and our way of expressing with gratitude the truth that “All things come from thee, O Lord; and of thine own have we given thee.” Herb Miller puts it this way: “The goal of Christian stewardship is [not so much fund-raising for a worthy cause but rather] the faithful management of all that God gives so that God can use our gifts to transform us spirituality and to extend Christ’s transforming love to others.” (7). We produce fruit by deepening our roots in the soil of stewardship, specifically by practicing the ancient spiritual discipline of tithing.

The Steady Trunk

I like to imagine the Prophet Deborah reflecting on the deep roots of the tree under which she sat while also leaning against its steady trunk and being comforted by its strength. During these trying days of pandemic and political division, we need strong and secure things to lean on, things as secure as the trunk of a tree. There’s a prayer in our prayer book that asks for God’s presence and protection “so that we who are wearied by the changes and chances of this life may rest in [God’s] eternal changelessness.” (p. 133). Fr. Chip spoke to this eternal changelessness in his sermon yesterday (or several days ago), explaining that although a lot of changes took place this last week, one thing remains constant (like a steady tree trunk) and does not change: “the love of God that we know in Christ Jesus,” and that is enough for us to face our challenges.

            There’s a lone redwood tree in our garden here, under which I often sit and notice all of the tiny creatures that make homes in the crevices of the trunk and bark because they know that it is reliable real estate. It’s a good investment. In the midst of all the turbulence and uncertainty in our world and country, may Christ Church Sausalito be for you as reliable and steady as a strong tree trunk; and may you realize with gratitude that investment in the church is the best investment in the world, because the church is the embodiment of that one thing that remains constant: the love of God that we know in Christ Jesus. And I know the leaders and parishioners of Christ Church Sausalito well enough to say that the church is indeed as strong as a mighty tree trunk because your church’s hope is built on nothing less than Jesus Christ and his righteousness. And there’s no better investment than that.

Gandhi said that when it comes to combatting against injustice in the world, 20% of the work involves non-violent protest, but 80% of the work involves building up and investing in the beloved community. For us, that means investing in the church, so may you be extra generous in your investment in that steady tree trunk that you lean on during difficult times; the tree trunk that is Christ Church.

Branching Out

Finally, I imagine Deborah finding cool shade under the broad branches of her palm tree. I imagine her reflecting on the ways in which reaching and branching out to the wider world is crucial for the health of the tree. And that’s the same for the church. A healthy church looks outward. In fact, former Archbishop of Canterbury William Temple said that “The Church is one of the only societies on earth that exists for the benefit of its non-members.” Christ Church Sausalito understands this because when one gives generously to Christ Church, one is also feeding the hungry through the Grab ‘n Go ministry, and supporting children through Play Marin and Rising Stars in Marin City, and making a profound difference in the lives of particular individuals who are in need. By reaching out, Christ Church emulates the generosity of trees, which branch out to others through their branches and also through their roots.

            In one of my early sermons at Christ Church Eureka, I preached about the deep roots of redwood trees. After the sermon, some parishioners kindly informed me that redwoods aren’t necessarily known for having roots that go deep but rather having roots that reach out and intertwine with other roots so they can stand taller than any other tree. What a great analogy! We can stand tall when we connect to one another and weave our lives together, especially in the depths, in deep ways, and even in the darkness. 

            A Professor of Theological Studies in St. Louis Belden Lane writes, “Given [our] current need for ‘social distancing,’ there’s much to be learned from trees. They regularly communicate with each other from a distance, sharing information and nutrients along underground fungal networks connecting their roots. These allow the trees to transfer water, nitrogen, and carbon as needed. Old cedar trees share nutrients with younger ones. A Douglas fir may even support a sickly paper birch nearby. In this ‘wood-wide web,’ hub trees reach out to nurture a deeply interrelated community.

“Trees reach out to others in their heights as well. Thirty stories up, the canopies of redwood trees provide a habitat for a hidden world of epiphyte species—ferns, mosses, and liverworts [and redwood sorrel which is quite delicious to eat]. The generosity of trees is endless. Even in dying, they care for each other. Fallen trees become nurse logs that provide garden beds for young seedlings. Ninety percent of Sitka spruce trees on the Washington coast grow directly out of their decaying grandparents.”[2]

            The generosity of trees is endless indeed. And being generous is part of what it means to be a tree. According to Pope Francis, being generous is also part of what it means to be fully alive as a human being. Pope Francis said, “Rivers do not drink their own water; trees do not eat their own fruit; the sun does not shine on itself and flowers do not spread their fragrance for themselves. [Giving to] others is a rule of nature.” I like to believe that the great prophet Deborah learned this rule of nature while sitting under her palm tree. May we learn and practice this rule of nature by deepening our roots in the soil of stewardship (specifically by tithing), by investing in the steady tree trunk of God’s love in Christ embodied in the church, and by branching out towards others in need and producing spiritual fruit for a starving world. Amen.

In closing, I’d like to offer a brief story that weaves together some of the lessons we’ve gleaned from the generosity of trees…

Concluding Story and Blessing

In the Middle Ages, there was an English Benedictine monk who lived at St. Augustine’s Abbey in Canterbury, where an old yew tree stood in the center of the cloister yard. For years, the monk saved up money to make a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, where he hoped to walk three times around the Holy Sepulchre, kneel in prayer, and then return home a new man. He had it all planned out: he would cross the English Channel and then walk along the Via Francigena, the ancient pilgrimage route to Rome, where he would then cross over the rocky terrain of Greece and then follow the Templar Trail through the dry expanse of Cappadocia. He would visit cathedrals and tombs of saints along the way before arriving, at last, at the old city of Jerusalem. When the day finally arrived for him to begin his pilgrimage, he walked out of the cloister yard with this staff in hand and set out for the Holy Land.

            Just as he closed the cloister gate behind him, he saw a man in tattered clothing picking up herbs on the side of the road. The man saw the monk and asked, “Where are you going, Father?”

            The monk said, “I’m off to Jerusalem to walk around the Holy Sepulchre three times, kneel in prayer, and then return home a different man.”

            “How wonderful!” the man said, “I hope you have enough funds for your travels.”

            “Yes, thanks be to God!” said the monk. “I’ve been able to save thirty pounds.”

            Then the man asked hesitantly, “Can I ask you something crazy, Father? I have a wife and children hungry at home and I’ve been looking everywhere for some food to keep them from starving. I’m wondering if you would consider walking around me three times, kneel in prayer, and give me your thirty pounds.”

            The English monk initially laughed in disbelief at the man’s audacity, but then remembered the words of Jesus, who said, “Whatever you do to the least of these you do unto me” (Matthew 25:40). So in an act of divine absurdity, he walked around the man three times, knelt in prayer, and gave the man his thirty pounds. He then walked back into the cloister yard and sat under the yew tree to pray. 

            The English monk then experienced a deep peace as he realized that the beggar was Christ himself and that the transformation he was seeking had just taken place outside the gates of his abbey. He didn’t need to travel all the way to Jerusalem. He then gazed upon the cloister’s yew tree and became overwhelmed by its magnificent and massive beauty as if he were seeing it for the first time. He became filled with gratitude for the yew tree; and at that moment, he made a commitment to spend some time each day in prayer and gratitude under its branches. And he realized how tremendously blessed he was to live in Canterbury, which was already a pilgrimage destination for so many and which today remains a “Mecca” for Anglicans and Episcopalians around the world. 

            During this time when travelling and pilgriming is especially difficult, my hope and prayer for you is that you invest in your own spiritual home and church family with such deep gratitude and radical generosity that Christ Church Sausalito becomes a “Mecca” and pilgrimage destination for all people who seek to grow in love, and serve the world, and emulate the generosity of trees.     

            So may the Lord bless you and keep you; may he make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; may he turn his countenance upon you and give you the deep peace of the running waves; And may you find courage, strength, grace and generosity in knowing that God delights in you and is proud to call you his own and the blessing of God the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit be with you and remain with you forever. Amen.

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[1] The tree that does not fear when heat comes, whose leaves stay green and which does not get anxious in the year of drought and does not cease to bear fruit.

[2] Belden C. Lane, “Listening to the Trees: Seven Words on the Coronavirus” 137 – 140. Spiritus 20:2 (Fall 2020), 138.