I'm Stumped
“In those days, in that time, I will raise up for David a just shoot; he shall do what is right and just in the land.” - Jeremiah 33:14
The tiny pieces of the off-brand Lego set do not want to fit together. And just when I get them to click together, another portion falls off. The step-by-step directions in the package are fairly straightforward, but the execution is severely lacking. My five-year-old looks at me with complete confidence that I am capable of putting together this set he bought at the dollar store. I suggest that he have his much more capable 10-year-old brother do this instead of me… a suggestion that is not well-received. “We are engineering this!” We are doing this together, and it needs to look just like the fire truck on the box.
The more I struggled with the tiny (imperfectly formed) plastic pieces, the more frustrated I became. I am seriously regretting spending only $5 on this set and not $35. Ultimately, my son had the brilliant idea to abandon the fire truck and use only the best pieces to make a car. Did we give up? Maybe. Did we fail? No. I truly believe that no matter what we did, these pieces were not going to make the toy depicted on the box. Our choices were to either completely give up the project or to allow our imaginations to create something new and different. I realized this busted not-real Lego felt a bit like my own life.
The Advent readings challenge us to new beginnings, to take stock of our lives and commitments at the start of the new liturgical year. What if instead of building a dinky toy, I am building a dwelling place for Christ? How often am I trying to force together pieces that do not belong together? The foundation is too unstable, the sides too weak, the finishings just a little bit off. Am I spending too much mental and physical energy desperately trying to force an unrealistic outcome? What if I toss the excess and allow the newness to emerge from the pieces?
The “shoot from the stump of Jesse,” that is exalted in the third of the O Antiphons and in today’s first reading, is symbolic of the radical destruction that makes way for such newness. The Prophet Jeremiah says, “In those days, in that time, I will raise up for David a just shoot; he shall do what is right and just in the land.” The Davidic line will continue in Jesus, and the Advent readings recount God’s faithfulness throughout the generations. The root of Jesse is Jesus, a shoot from which all life flows and creates a more just and peaceful world.
In preparation for the coming of Advent, I have prayed with this image of a single shoot that stands out in the barrenness of a stump. This past year has been marked by isolation, a stripping away of major pieces of my identity and my life. Like the stripped trunk that remains after a heavy windstorm, the branches that remain feel raw, exposed, and humiliated. There is no leafy excess of grace and consolation for me to hide within. I am a stump, a barren trunk, a pile of broken Lego pieces. But the roots remain, the root of Jesse from whom the shoot may grow.
In this moment, I feel the invitation to remain in God’s love. To resist the temptation to hide the barrenness in tinsel and lights. Lord, this is me right now. I offer you what remains. If you so choose, come and plant a seed, take root, and live in me.
Jen Coito
Photo credit: Unsplash