Two Trees

Here a great number of disabled people used to lie—the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him.... 
-John 5:3-5

A few months ago I read the opening line of a prose piece called "Autumn Night" written in 1924 by a Chinese poet named Lu Xun.
Beyond my garden wall, you can see two trees. The first is a jujube tree. The second is also a jujube tree.

I sat with this unique sentence a bit. Why would the author use such unnecessary wording? Why not just say, "they are both jujube trees?" Are we going for word count here, like in the book reports I used to write in high school? A Tale of Two Cities is a very excellent story about so many different themes and various characters that I find it incredibly exciting and very interesting. (26 words!) 

No. Good poets only use extra words when they want us to notice something. And Xun does indeed want us to notice something. Two somethings, actually. And it's an important lesson for us about the way of Jesus. 

Each tree has its own twists and turns. It has its own unique shape and growth history. The poet is suggesting that simply saying "they are both jujube trees," may cause the reader to miss seeing them for their unique individuality. There is singular beauty and details to each of those trees. Yes, there may be similarities or shared descriptors. But they are not the same as each other. And should not be seen as such. 

One of the most beautiful things about Jesus was his ability to notice people, and to see them beyond labels. He was willing to see each person as unique and worthy of care. He asks different questions of Nicodemus than he asks of other Pharisees. He speaks to Peter differently than to John. He refuses to let Matthew or Zacchaeus  simply be seen as tax collectors. Mary and Martha weren't just women, or even sisters. They were unique people with unique needs and unique stories. This is how Jesus worked. He was constantly around crowds, but always noticing the individuals. Jesus had a way of seeing people fully, not just as one of a crowd, but one to be uniquely cared for. 

We often do the opposite. The tendency is to see people and try to place them in the appropriate "crowds" to define them more easily and decide how worthy they are of love or agreement.  People see two liberals or two conservatives. They see two poor people or two teenagers or two Catholics or two immigrants or two queer folks. And they feel like they know all they need to know. We often do not pause to really notice that they might be different from each other; to understand each unique story; to love well. And when we fail to see people as complex and having their own unique stories, we create a culture that caves in on itself, too. Before we realize it, we find ourselves getting grouped into whatever categories people make up for us, being seen not as having our own unique story, but as just one of an easily labeled group. 

For community to flourish, we must see both trees. For relationships to be transformative, we must be eager to hear one another's stories. This the beautiful way of Jesus.

Jesus invites us to look at those around us, gently acknowledging that each one has unique hurts and hopes. Each one has imperfect stories that shaped them. Each one has to eat several meals a day (just like you!) and experiences loss and excitement and regret and joy. 

How can you notice and care in a new way this week, in a moment that it would be easier to group and label? 

Jesus, give me your vision to notice faces when I'm tempted to only see the crowd.

Peace,
Keith

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