²²“Thus says the Lord GOD:
I myself will take a sprig
from the lofty top of a cedar;
I will set it out.
I will break off a tender one
from the topmost of its young twigs;
I myself will plant it
on a high and lofty mountain.
²³On the mountain height of Israel
I will plant it,
in order that it may produce boughs
and bear fruit,
and become a noble cedar.
Under it every kind of bird will live;
in the shade of its branches will nest
winged creatures of every kind.
²⁴All the trees of the field shall know
that I am the LORD.
I bring low the high tree,
I make high the low tree;
I dry up the green tree
and make the dry tree flourish.
I the LORD have spoken;
I will accomplish it. (Ezekiel 17:22-24, NRSV)

+ + +

Let us pray…
“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation[s] of [our] heart[s]
be acceptable to you,
O LORD, [our] rock and [our] redeemer.” Amen. (Psalm 19:14, NRSV)

+ + +

The saying is familiar: beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Right now, we’re in the season where it’s easy
for our eyes to behold beauty all around us.
The rains, for the most part,
have been timely and at least plentiful enough
to make God’s palette of greens
come to life in fields and woods.

If you farm, or if you garden,
the rains and the lush vegetation they bring
are, for the most part,
a blessing.

But we all know,
that just as beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
a weed lies in the eye—or the hand—of the gardener or farmer or arborist.
Dandelions, in some cultures, are a tender delicacy for early spring salads,
or the bearer of blossoms to be crafted into wine.
But for most of us, they become a profuse and prolific nuisance,
especially when our neighbors’ yards are free of their yellow accent.

Weeds are not just the plants that polka-dot our lawns
or punctuate the lines of crops in our fields.
Sometimes weeds grow to the size of trees.

A recent newsletter from
the Nebraska Natural Resources Conservation Service
began an article like this:

When people think about protecting the environment they probably don’t think about cutting down trees. But cutting down cedar trees was exactly what Gary Bruns’ rangeland needed to help restore his mixed grass prairie in southern Lincoln County.
Over the years Bruns’ rangeland had become heavily infested with eastern red cedar trees. The trees had become so thick that his grazing land acres had been greatly reduced. (NEBNEWS, Winter 2009, p. 1)

The choice of words is telling:
the “mixed grass prairie…had become heavily infested
with eastern red cedar trees.”

We don’t speak of plants we desire
using phrases like “heavily infested.”
What happens is that cedar trees,
when they spread beyond their native habitat,
become a weed in their new locale.
That’s most likely the way we, living on the prairie,
tend to think of cedar trees,
despite the refuge their supply to animals
and the perches they offer to birds.

So when Ezekiel the prophet speaks the Word of God,
and he paints a picture in words
of the Lord GOD as an arborist,
we are challenged to change
how we look at cedar trees.
Ezekiel invites us
to see them in a fresh way
as symbols of God’s love and mercy.

Life is hard for Ezekiel and God’s people.
For the longest time,
they had trusted God’s promises
to make their descendents multiply
like flowers after the spring rains,
to keep them on the land
like herds safe from wild beasts,
and to plant and raise up rulers
from the line of David
to sit on the throne in Jerusalem.

But then the hard times came.
A force greater than Judah’s came to power.
The Babylonian empire arose
and swept across the Middle East.
Its armies overran the country,
occupied Jerusalem,
and carted off the king
and many of the people,
making them refugees in Babylon.

It’s difficult to imagine
the devastation and despair
that weighed on the hearts
of God’s people.

Not only were they displaced from their homes,
they were weighed down
by the grinding worry
of wondering what had become of God.

How could he be God
if every moment of their days
reminded them of the broken shards
that had been the wonderful pot of his promises?

They had lost kinsmen,
they had no land,
the throne of David was empty,
becoming spoils of war in the hands of the Babylonians.

It’s difficult to place ourselves in their position,
but then again, not really.

We face the doubts that come with that gnawing worry,
the twisted clenching of our guts,
when we wait for a medical report
to tell us whether our own bodies,
gifts from God,
are now betraying us with tumors.

We endure the times when the blessings of family,
gifts from God,
turn to hurt and division
as we feel the lash of words spoken
in anger and pain,
with no hope of retraction.

We keep a worried eye
on the markets,
both for goods and for our own labor,
and watch the value
of the sweat of our brows,
a sign of God’s provision,
evaporate like a puddle
in the midday heat.

The details and the circumstances
are different for us today
than they were for God’s people
half a world away and
six hundred years before Christ.

And yet,
the reality and the truth
of our fear
and of God’s response
are just the same.
That’s why we listen to Ezekiel
after all these centuries.
When he speaks God’s Word
to the people in Babylon,
he is speaking God’s Word to us,
both because God shares that Word
with his people
in all times and places
and because we—
here and now in Nebraska—
are one people
with the nameless, scattered refugees
huddled in a distant and ancient and strange land.

In his prophetic poem about the cedar tree,
Ezekiel tells us, in God’s words,
how he works in our lives
as a patient and gentle arborist.

He clips a sprig from the “lofty top of a cedar,”
and plants it on his mountain.
Then he tends it,
tilling around it so weeds do not overrun it.
He waters it and digs in some manure for fertilizer.
He waits for the tree to grow.

And it does,
growing up and out,
bearing its fruit,
holding the nests of birds
in the shade of its branches.

As an arborist, God picks and chooses
which trees to cultivate.
As Ezekiel mentions,
God cuts down the “high tree,”
and tends the sapling.
He dries up the “green tree,”
but waters the tree stressed by drought.

In this prophecy, this allegory,
just as God is the arborist,
his people—Judah and you and I—
are the cedar tree.

The arbor on God’s mountain
is the land of his grace.
For the scattered remnant,
the arbor is the land of Judah.
For us, God’s land is our community of faith—the Church.

This gathering here in Marquette
is a grove of God’s trees.
You and I are the sprigs and the twigs
he has plucked up and then rooted.

Those roots grow down into the rich soil
of God’s Word.
We’re anchored and grounded there,
so that we are not toppled
when the winds of sin and pain blow.

God waters us in our baptism,
pouring out that liquid life
so that we may face the heat of the day
and not shrivel and dry up.

God fertilizes us regularly
with the bread, his Son’s body,
and the wine, his Son’s blood,
so that we grow strong,
with healthy limbs and branches and leaves,
and bear abundant fruit of faith.

And in the end,
when the last day fades to dusk,
and we have seen our final sunrise,
we can trust that God
will not forget us,
nor lose us in the thicket.

He will come,
in the cool of the evening,
with shovel in hand,
dig us up, roots and all,
and carry us into his garden,
transplanting us into the soil
that will never crack from drought,
never give rise to weeds that choke.
There we will flourish.
As Ezekiel says, “I the LORD have spoken;
I will accomplish it.” Amen.

[P] Let us pray for the whole people of God in Christ Jesus, and for all people according to their needs. (Silence…)
Nurturing God, we praise you for tending us as trees in your arbor, for blessing us with pruning and moisture and nourishment. Make us grow as witnesses to your grace and love. Lord, in your mercy,
[C] hear our prayer.
[P] Wise Father, we thank you for blessing your people with faithful servants like Ezekiel and all who proclaim your Word. Grant wisdom to the leaders of our community, especially to Mark, our Presiding Bishop, David, our Bishop, and Brian Krouse, the new pastor of St. John’s Lutheran Church. Lord, in your mercy,
[C] hear our prayer.
[P] Providing Lord, we turn to you for wisdom. Help us to submit ourselves to your will, revealed in your Word and taught by your wise followers in every age. Today we give you thanks for the fourth-century witness of your servants Basil the Great, Gregory of Nyssa, Gregory of Naziansus and Macrina. Lord, in your mercy,
[C] hear our prayer.
[P] Generous God, you do not desire that we suffer, and so you create and sustain a world of abundance. Help us to tend the gifts you have given us, so we may each have sufficient food, clean water, a safe home, and peace with our neighbors. Lord, in your mercy,
[C] hear our prayer.
[P] Mighty King, you establish nations to serve your will. Inspire each of our leaders, especially Barack, our President, and David, our Governor, to seek your will and to lead with wisdom and an eye for justice. Lord, in your mercy,
[C] hear our prayer.
[P] Nurturing God, you pour out your Spirit and give your people life. Bless with healing and peace all who are sick, who suffer pain and estrangement, and who mourn losses in their lives, especially all whom we raise to you in our hearts … (silence) …. Lord, in your mercy,
[C] hear our prayer.
[P] Victorious Father, you raised your Son from death in the power of your Spirit. Share your eternal life with us and reunite us with all who have died before us, including those whom we remember now … (silence) …. Grant them and us the joy of sharing the resurrection on the last day. Lord, in your mercy,
[C] hear our prayer.
[P] Into your hands, gracious God, we commend all for whom we pray, trusting in your mercy, through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.
[C] Amen.