Third Thursday of Advent
Gospel: Lk 1:5-25
Last Advent, I wrote to my artist mentor friend Ansgar Holmberg, CSJ, to ask permission to use this image of the Root of Jesse from “Praying the Advent Names of God.” She replied:
“I just need to tell you that at the bottom of the tree where the two shrouded people are one is Jesse's wife. She did have a little bit to do with Jesus's lineage. So down there snuggled together like two little worms are Mr and Mrs Jesse. So yes go ahead and use them and don't worry about any remuneration. I hope you too are having a fruitful Advent. To give to others is to give to oneself.”
Ansgar died this summer, so this was my last written communication with her. But the generosity of her response, especially as she neared the end of her life, reflects the fervent abundance and vitality that springs forth from the root of Jesse in her illustration.
In meditating on this image and encounter in light of today’s antiphon (“O Root of Jesse's stem, sign of God's love for all people: come to save us without delay!”), I am reminded of Shell Silverstein’s popular children’s book The Giving Tree. A
tree who gave so fearlessly, recklessly. A tree who continues to love the boy even when he treats her as a resource. Much as Mother Earth does with us in spite of our extractive economies and cultures.
So I wonder: what if the story doesn’t end with an old man sitting resigned, passively unaware of his offense, on the stump of a tree who loved unconditionally?
What if our story doesn’t conclude with us taking and destroying and consuming until there is nothing left? What if in the pause, the space of rest and contemplation, a shoot shall come, as Isaiah boldly proclaims? What if beyond that last written published page, there is still a blank page where the person receives the gift “ as a sign of God’s love for all people” and goes forth with gratitude and generosity? Where humans learn to recognize they are not separate from or superior to the rest of creation?
Maybe Ansgar continues to teach even beyond the grave. Notice how she depicts the boundary between tree and figures–there’s not one! Human and nature are one creation. This image reminds us that through this inextricable connection, we are growing, weaving, singing, and becoming, one, all together.
Today, I invite you to join me in sitting with a stump in your neighborhood, local park, or yard. Pause to honor ourparticipation in creation alongside Ansgar’s vision, alongside the root of Jesse, alongside the Giving Tree. Here, perhaps wewill learn to recognize the radical generosity of God’s mothering love and be surprised by new growth.
Casey Murano is an artist who lives at Bethlehem Farm, an intentional Catholic community in Appalachia. You can learn more about her work at www.caseymurano.com
