“Like a Tree”
December 7, 2025
Rev. Rebecca Migliore
When I remember my days growing up in Princeton there are two trees that dominate the landscape. One was a luscious Japanese Maple in Marquand Park. It had gnarled limbs and was the perfect tree for little people to climb and sit in its branches surrounded by its almost weeping leaves.
The other was the stately white oak called the Mercer Oak, the only thing standing on Princeton Battlefield. The story has it that at the Battle of Princeton in January of 1777, Brigadier General Hugh Mercer was stabbed during battle, but was unwilling to leave the field. So he was laid under the maple’s overarching branches and from there helped his men to stand their ground. Only after the Continental Army had won, was he taken to a nearby farm house, where he died of his injuries nine days later.
In 1973 the Mercer Oak was struck by lightning but survived. Then in 2000, the Mercer Oak (at that time believed to be over 300 years old) was stuck again by lightning and could not be saved. But, a sapling grown from a Mercer Oak acorn was planted inside the stump of the former tree, and it has continued to grow.
The image of trees caught my mind this week as I read the lessons. First, that image of the messiah as a shoot coming out of the stump of Jesse, a branch growing out of his roots. We Christians read Jesus into that prophecy of Isaiah. And it even became part of what are called the O antiphons (set in verse and to a tune that we know as “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel).
O come, thou root of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan’s tyranny:
From depths of hell thy people save
And give them victory o’er the grave. Rejoice! Rejoice,
Emmanuel, shall come to thee, O Israel.
This is a beautiful picture of new life springing from what seems dead or at least much diminished (a stump). It goes along with Isaiah’s vision of this person of God who will embody all that is good about humans. God’s Spirit rests, with wisdom and understanding, with counsel and might, with knowledge and fear of the Lord. Righteousness is embodied. God’s preference for the poor is seen. Justice is meted out for the wicked. A new age dawns where peace reigns: where The wolf shall live with the lamb;
the leopard shall lie down with the kid;
the calf and the lion will feed together,
and a little child shall lead them.
The cow and the bear shall graze;
their young shall lie down together;
and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
They will not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain,
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea.
No wonder this reading was picked for the Second Sunday of Advent, the Sunday of Peace. And all this comes from a shoot, an offspring of the tree of Jesse.
And then we come to Matthew, where the image of trees is slightly different. Here, John is calling out those who have come, without actual repentance, to the river Jordan, to be part of the “fad” of being baptized. He sees them and says, “Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; therefore every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire.” John looks at a tree, at a person and says, where is your fruit? Where are your deeds of mercy, of justice, of walking humbly with God?
If you cannot show me those, if you have not followed the commandments of God, if you did not live out what you say you believe, then you should not be here. You should be felled. You should be torn out of the earth. You should not take up the ground you inhabit. Better to give it to someone who will grow and produce fruit.
John might even have had in mind Psalm 1, where those who are righteous are described as “trees planted by streams of water, which yield fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither.” For the psalmist goes on, “the wicked are not so but are like chaff that the wind drives away.” And John picks up this image later in his tirade as he describes the One who is to come: “His winnowing fork is in his hand, and he will clear his threshing floor and will gather his wheat into the granary, but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.”
What does this have to say to us today? Well, I think it reminds us first that we have to cling to our hope, to the vision of what God’s kin-dom will be. We have to hold onto our hope, even as we work for peace, for Shalom for our world. But second, what I see in these images is that it takes hard work. Trees have to work hard, especially in difficult soil like that of the middle east, to produce fruit. And we have to work hard as well, to follow in Jesus’ footsteps, in living “rightly” in this world of ours. We can’t just think that someone else will do what needs to be done. We can’t depend on our lives being fruitful unless we take the time, the energy, the treasure, to make it so.
These are part of the messages of Advent. Hold onto hope as we watch for God’s coming. Work towards God’s peace, for our lives are to show forth justice and mercy. God’s presence is already with us. We can lean on God for strength, for wisdom, for passion. But we need to light the candle in our own lives. We need to put one foot in front of the other on our path. We need to nurse the new life that we are offered every minute of every day from our loving Lord.
In the past few years there have been books written on the lives of trees—we know so much more than we have in the past. And these tell of a different world—a world of interconnection in the forest. A world where roots find ways to be near to and entwine with roots from other trees. A world where messages are sent through these roots, lending aid in time of trouble, sending warning of pests. And I think of that beautiful Mercer Oak, standing alone, in that vast area of green. And I’m sorry that it didn’t get to have a grove to be a part of.
But we can make other choices. We do not have to stand alone. Not in joy. Not in sorrow. Not in despair. We are like trees planted by the stream of living water—planted within reach of other trees. Planted so that our roots can enmesh, one with the other. Planted so that we can nourish one another, even as the stream provides us with the water of life. Together, we can be so much more than we would be alone. Together, not just with our little band of brothers and sisters who show up here at UPC, or tune in to this channel. But together with all those who are planted near God’s ever-flowing waters. All those near and far. All those who we know, and so many that we do not.
Together we make a grand forest. With towering oaks, and gnarled Japanese maples, and little Charlie Brown trees as well. We are diverse and beautiful. We are found across this wide world. And we each have our part to play. Our fruit to offer to those around us. Our gifts to share.
May we pray and work as the classic hymn says: for “nearer and nearer draws the time, the time that shall surely be, when the earth shall be filled with the glory of God as the waters cover the sea.”
May it be so, Alleluia, Amen.