Roots and rocks...

During church today, the passage we were reading was from Isaiah 61: "The spirit of the Lord is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lords favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to provide for those who mourn in Zion- to give them a garland instead of ashes, olive oil in exchange for tears...For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations."  Isn't that beautiful?  We often do lectio divino instead of a sermon, where the people reflect on verses that especially stand out to them from the scripture reading.  I reflected on the metaphor of "shoots" for the springing up of righteousness and praise.  Shoots are temporary.  They spring up, and then they die.  This was especially moving for me because I have been feeling down since around Thanksgiving.  It's like the steadfastness, and freedom inside me have withered and died.  My roots are in really shaky ground, so my sense of self collapses for no apparent reason.  While I am somewhat reassured in knowing that my shoots of righteousness and praise will no doubt spring up again in time, having my sense of rootedness dislodged is disconcerting.  When the pastor asked us all the Adventen question of what vision of God we hope will be born on Christmas morning, I responded, "God the rock."  I miss my groundedness.

We then paired up and discussed who God calls us to be.  The man I talked to responded immediately with "father, husband, teacher."  I was struck by how he found his sense of self and calling in his relationships to others.  My relationships are always changing, so I can't find anything more than an impermanent identity within them.  I always need to put down roots in a community (here come the horticultural metaphors again), and yet I struggle to identify myself by that community because it changes every year.  I shared these reflections with my dialogue partner, and he brought up willows and poplars.  The EPA is planting them in poisoned areas because they put down roots very quickly and are able to draw toxins out of the soil and metabolize them.  At the same time, they do not last very long.  I resonated with that image of the willow tree.  I am trying to put down roots and draw toxins out of this community for the short time that I am here.  I'm not sure if I'm supposed to find a grounding that will endure past this year, or simply develop the ability to pull up roots and grow in new soil very quickly when this year ends.  Both seem very daunting to me.