"TREE OF LIFE" ^_[1]

STORY OF TWO LEAVES

1.  Of the many beautiful objects adorning the St. Jude Chapel, none surpasses its magnificent stained-glass window. portraying the "tree of Life".  [cf. Gen 2:9, 3:24; Rev 22:2]  A symbol of the Church and her vigilant expectation of the eschaton  (Gk. last, farthest things), the Tree of Life images the Mystical Body of Christ. The foliage adorning the tree signifies the members of the Church, living and dead. Leaves appended to the tree are the living. Leaves separated from the tree represent the dead. Today, on the Feast of All Souls, we honor the memory of the holy souls who have preceded us in death. We pray for the deceased members of our Christian family, especially Christians martyrs of our time, the young, the forgotten, and those who suffered much before the moment of death. We pray for consolation and for the healing of our painful memories. We pray for the courage to be living witnesses of the virtues which graced the lives of our deceased. We ask that we, and our beloved dead, be fixed eternally to the Tree of Life when Christ returns in glory on the last day. In 1928, Felix Salten published a marvelous book which became a classic in childrens literature. In one remarkable chapter, the author speaks of the rhythm of life and death, the inevitability of change, and the mystery of what lies beyond human existence. Chapter eight of Saltens book BAMBI tells the touching story of two oak leaves who contemplate the approach of winter and the approach of events beyond their capacity to understand: 

BAMBI CHAPTER VIII

THE LEAVES were falling from the great oak at the meadows edge. They were falling from all the trees.  One branch of the oak reached high above the others and stretched far out over the meadow. Two leaves clung to its very tip.

"It isn't the way it used to be", said one leaf to the other

"No", the other leaf answered. "So many of us have fallen off to-night, were almost the only ones left on our branch."

"You never know who's going to go next", said the first leaf. "Even when it was warm and the sun shone, a storm or a cloudburst would come sometimes, and many leaves were torn off, though they were still young. You never know who's going to go next."

"The sun seldom shines now", sighed the second leaf, "and when it does it gives no warmth. We must have warmth again."

"Can it be true", said the first leaf, "can it really be true, that others come to take our places when were gone and after them still others, and more and more?"

"It is really true", whispered the second leaf. "We can't even begin to imagine it, its beyond our powers."

"It makes me very sad", added the first leaf.

They were silent a while. Then the first leaf said quietly to herself, "Why must we fall? . . ."

The second leaf asked, "What happens to us when we have fallen?"

"We sink down. . . ."

"What is under us?"

The first leaf answered, "I don't know, some say one thing, some another, but nobody knows."

The second leaf asked, "Do we feel anything, do we know anything about ourselves when were down there?"

The first leaf answered, "Who knows? Not one of all those down there has ever come back to tell us about it."

They were silent again. Then the first leaf said tenderly to the other, "Don't worry so much about it, you're trembling."

"That's nothing", the second leaf answered, "I tremble at the least thing now. I don't feel so sure of my hold as I used to."

"Let's not talk any more about such things", said the first leaf.

The other replied, "No, well let be. But what else shall we talk about?" She was silent, but went on after a little while, "Which of us will go first?"

"Theres' still plenty of time to worry about that", the other leaf assured her. "Let's remember how beautiful it was, how wonderful, when the sun came out and shone so warmly that we thought wed burst with life. Do you remember? And the morning dew, and the mild and splendid nights. . . ." 

"Now the nights are dreadful", the second leaf complained, "and there is no end to them."

"We shouldn't complain," said the first leaf gently. "We've outlived many, many others."

"Have I changed much?" asked the second leaf shyly but determinedly.

"Not in the least", the first leaf assured her. You only think so because I've got to be so yellow and ugly. But it's different in your case."

"You're fooling me", the second leaf said.

"No, really", the first leaf exclaimed eagerly, "believe me, you're as lovely as the day you were born. Here and there may be a little yellow spot but it's hardly noticeable and only makes you handsomer, believe me."

"Thanks", whispered the second leaf, quite touched. "I don't believe you, not altogether, but I thank you because you're so kind, you've always been so kind to me. I'm just beginning to understand how kind you are."

"Hush", said the other leaf, and kept silent herself for she was too troubled to talk any more.

Then they were both silent. Hours passed.

A moist wind blew, cold and hostile, through the tree-tops.

"Ah, now", said the second leaf, "I. . . ." Then her voice broke off. She was torn from her place and spun down.  Winter had come.^[2] 

PROFOUNDLY HUMAN QUESTIONS

2.  The message of this lovely, pastoral chapter in the book BAMBI emerges as one of consolation, companionship, and intimacyall rooted in the enigma of time. Of course, he two little leaves personify the human creature; the diminutive friends embody the frailty and constraint imposed on all human souls. Sharing their private thoughts with one another, they articulate profoundly human questions. We are touched especially by the first leafs tender words of support. At home on the high branch of the great oak, facing the inevitable winter, they cheer one another as the life they have known comes to an end. The tree is an important metaphor in Christian literature. Speaking to the household of Cornelius in Caesarea, Peter says, "And we are witnesses to all that (Christ) did both in the country of the Jews and in Jerusalem. They put him to death by hanging him on a tree."  [Acts 10:39]  When, at Golgotha, the sacred and profane converge in the person of Our Lord, the tree of the cross is transformed into the most powerful redemptive symbol the world has ever known. On the tree of the cross was settled once and for all the supremacy of life over death. What a work of charity! we exclaim in the  LITURGY OF THE HOURS.  Death itself died when life was slain on the tree.^[3]  Below the garden of the Arimetheans tomb, in Golgothas tabernacle, "the Spirit of God was moving over the face of Our Lord". The Spirit gave light and the light was good.  [cf. Gen 1:2-3]  As a pledge of his word, Our Lord arose from the grave at dawn on the third day. Christ, by destroying the power of death, became the first fruits of the resurrection of the dead.  [cf. Jn 12:36; 1Cor 15:20-23]  As leaves blossoming on a barren tree, the dead will "rise on the last day"  [Jn 6:40, 6:54]  when Christ returns in glory, We rejoice in the abundant harvest of holy souls:  "...a great multitude which no man (can) number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and tongues, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands."  [Rev 7:9]  Christ is the perpetual sun, the light that never fades. We honor the Christian dead who reflected the light of Christ in their lives, and who faithfully transmitted the treasury of the Gospel to us, this living generation of Christian believers. We honor the souls of the Christian family to keep alive the memories of their spiritual deeds. By doing so, we accept our divine obligation to transmit the treasury of Catholic faithindeed this very feast day which commemorates the deadto the generation succeeding our own. The leaf has much in common with the Christian symbols of leaven and salt. An apt metaphor for the follower of Christ, the leaf embraces the two oft-contradictory principles of adornment and industry. As winter approaches, when the imperatives beauty and hard work are accomplished, tree and foliage take leave of one another. The earth, in whose realm the seeds germinate and take root, is newly enriched. The Feast of All Souls challenges us to examine the depth of our own spirituality, the intensity of our commitment to Christ. How well do we adorn the Bride of Christ? Are we industrious disciples in the Lords vineyard? Are we doing as much as we can to assist in the Lords harvest of souls? The visionary John, describing the Tree of Life in the heavenly Jerusalem, writes that its leaves are for the healing of the nations.  [Rev 22:2]  As we go our separate ways, do we enrich the earth with the fruits of Holy Eucharist?  You would do well to meditate upon the mystery of the Tree of Life, a mystical symbol of beauty, fruitfulness, unity and refuge.^[4]  Examine the leaves of the St. Jude window. You will be pleased to discover that all of them, whether joined to the tree and or loosed, are pointing upwards. They are all heaven bound!