Hello, and good morning! It’s so nice to be back, and to see all of you (or those who are here) on this lovely August Sunday. I don't usually preach in August, so it's fun to see what readings the church assigns during these slow and often sparsely-attended weeks of summer.
With that, from our Old Testament lesson this morning:
“Elijah went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat under a solitary broom tree. He asked that he might die. ‘It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life.”
I’m a believer in support groups, in finding people who are going through what you are and can help. We host AA groups here all week long. When I can I direct people to groups specific to their needs--those grieving a parent’s death, or going through a divorce, or loss of a job.
For my part, I have a clergy support group that meets once a month, in the company of a therapist. The seven of us have been together for almost five years. Presently I’m on the hunt for a support group of parents with unique caregiver demands. A few weeks ago I found online what seemed like the ideal group, but unfortunately it’s in Louisiana. It’s name was the Broom Tree Ministry -- named after (and I only made the connection this week) the broom tree, in today’s Old Testament lesson.
The broom tree is where Elijah goes--really, crawls beneath--when he’s given up all hope and just wants to lie down, and die. He’s being pursued by King Ahab and Queen Jezebel for speaking out against their rule, he’s certain this time there’s no way out, and everything he’s lived and fought for seems to have made no difference at all. “It is enough [he cries]; now, O Lord, take away my life.”
It’s one of the most desperate, most raw, expressions of grief in the Bible. And that’s saying something. Because the Bible contains a lot of grief. I think that’s one of the main reasons it’s still with us.
If you Google “broom tree” you’ll find Broom Tree retreat centers, where people can go find respite and healing from trauma. Broom Tree rehab and mental health organizations. Broom Tree grieving parent support groups. Loads of beautiful sermons on life beneath the broom tree. I thought I knew most of the plants of the Bible and what they signified. I somehow missed the broom tree’s association with grief.
The broom tree is a desert shrub. It hugs the ground, like plants do in sparse climates. In the book of Genesis, Hagar--Sarah’s handmaid with whom Sarah’s husband Abraham had his first son--Hagar and her son Ishmael are exiled by Abraham and Sarah to the desert, with barely enough provision to live. A desperate Hagar places her son under a broom tree to die, before an angel of the Lord finds him there.
In the Talmud the rabbis tell us that the broom tree’s branches burn hotter than any other wood. Their embers are likened to angry words whose power, once uttered, never quite burn out but continue to smolder.
The hot fires that come from the broom tree’s branches may be behind the legend that just such a fire was burning in the Garden of Gethsemane the night Jesus prayed the most anguished prayer of his life, before his death the next day. He may not have been under the broom tree, but its presence was there in that time of deepest grief.
I’ve spent time under the broom tree. I know many of us here, have. These stories remind us that it symbolizes grief, but also rescue, and grace. The broom tree is where God finds us.
Because Elijah’s story doesn’t end there. While Elijah is sleeping, an angel bakes a cake on hot stones and places it next to Elijah’s head, with a jar of water. Elijah eats, and falls asleep again. The angel brings another cake and jar of water, taps him on the shoulder, and tells him to eat again.
First of all, I just want to note the power of rest, and of food, to heal. Simple. The Bible is full of simple solutions like this, which somehow we overlook again and again, until the next time we’re under the broom tree and someone has to tell us: get up, eat, and sleep a little more.
Second, this makes us appreciate all those messengers God puts in our path, people who somehow have the strength and compassion to reach out to those in need of help.
I hope that’s one of our church’s strengths. I was out with a parishioner the other day, and she said, “The thing about St. James is that people really care about each other. It’s such a caring place.” We need to keep being that, and more.
Bishop Heyd, our new diocesan bishop, a skilled administrator and priest, who everyone expected would clean house and get things in order, instead spent the first year of his ministry as bishop creating a loving, caring community within the diocese. He called people. His staff called people. He visited every priest in the diocese. By the end of that year he knew everyone’s stories--their church’s stories, too. He’s right, in insisting that everything has to be built upon a foundation of trust, and care, and the knowledge that you’re being cared for. The rest will come, but only after that.
Helping each other get out from under the broom tree is one of the most important things we can do in life, and as a church community.
And when we’re under the broom tree ourselves, having that someone leave a couple cakes on hot stones and a jug of water--it’s everything. It’s the difference between ending our journey, and carrying on, as Elijah did. For forty days that food, that kindness, sustained him.
May our church, be a broom tree. May everyone who walks in these doors, find a lifeline, angels to help. That’s what we’re here for. Angels to help. Everything else, follows.