On Christianity and Trees

The Eucharist is "the source and summit of Christian life" - CCC 1324

     I played a game lately in which a friend to the left of me was required to pretend that he was me. In pretending to be me, he said that he wrote a blog post concerning Christianity and trees. After celebrating the Exaltation of the Holy Cross and listening to Fr. Daniel's homily just two days after, I could not help myself but to write on the matter. My friend was right; I am exactly the person who would write about Christianity and trees and I am sure it was not an occasion of coincidental nature.

     Trees are depicted in the Judeo-Christian tradition as a nourishing element. In the book of Genesis we see two main trees, not just one. God planted in the garden the tree of knowledge of good and evil, from which Adam and Eve had their fill of the fruit. But there is also the tree of life. The tree of life does not signify the empirically perceivable life but of true life. It signifies, among infinite perceivable life (immortality), a fulfilling life in complete communion with God and all His creations. But, as we all know, this communion was broken by the faults of Adam and Eve, rendering them unworthy of true life. So as to not taint the purity of Eden, it was necessary that they were banished from it.

     Although their offenses were great, God did not destroy them completely. Although they were forbidden from the present of life, they yet maintained life in mortality and in difficulty communicating with God. In this way God made mankind work toward their salvation, toward their true state of nature before the fall.

     It should be of no surprise to Christians (especially Catholics who connect the Old Testament and the New Testament during mass) that some books of the Old Testament are at times prophetic, priming the minds of the faithful for the (first) coming of Christ.

     Further into the Christian narrative, God, in His grace, presented to us the tree of life. But it was presented to us albeit in an unsuspecting way. It was presented not in a literal form of a living tree but in the form of Christ crucified. The body and blood of Christ, the fruits of his salvific work and passion, flowed from the tree that is the wood of the Holy Cross.  In this act of grace by God the symbol of wrongdoing used by the Romans, the cross, the tainted tree of knowledge of good and evil, is made null. Through this act the cross is made into a sign of life.

     And what does this new tree of life, the cross on which Christ is crucified, offers us? The same as the one in Eden: immortality and full communion with God. But Christ offers more than the original tree of life in that He is willing to forgive our sins.

     However, it is still necessary that we be worthy to be in the presence of the tree of life. Further, we Catholics believe that the Eucharist is, literally, Christ Himself; it is literally the fruits of the new tree of life (for Protestants and atheists this may be very strange... Just be kind and take my word that this isn't that strange once you adequately understand it). For these reasons we Catholics make a firm and unmistakable act of confession to God through the sacrament of reconciliation, placing ourselves in a state of grace. Only in this state of grace can we partake in the Eucharist. Through the sacraments of reconciliation and the Eucharist, we are to meditate regularly how we are of fallen nature and practice thanksgiving toward Christ our Lord for allowing us to be saved.

     In doing these things we improve our faith and grow further into virtue both moral and theological. In this sense it is correct that trees be depicted in the Christian tradition as a nourishing element. Through the fruits of the new tree of life we are nourished and find true life. The Eucharist indeed is the source and summit of Christian life.

   

   

I Don't Know About You But I'm Feeling 22

I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant to find the ring, and not by its maker. In which case, you were also meant to have it. - Gandalf

I personally never liked having birthdays. Too much attention is on me. A few words from those I care about is all I want. I've always enjoyed others'  birthdays, however, for I have an excuse to spend money on them and show my appreciation toward them without making them feeling owed. I do, however, like the fact that I can express myself with a different number.

     Now I'm 22. As I aged a year more, it is about time I reflect on myself. It is an awry feeling, being 22. The fact that I am twice older than 11 years and 11 lesser than 33 years is indeed a strange thing. It is also a strange thing that I am thinking in such a way, and it is even stranger that I decided to write like this for this post. Perhaps the feeling of strangeness I want to convey is sufficiently expressed by this paragraph. And perhaps the fact that this post is not argumentative in nature also convey the level of strangeness; it's more of a fluid train of thought.

     Perhaps the feeling of strangeness I want to convey is conveyed stronger in the title; for those of you who know me personally, me quoting Taylor Swift should be very, very strange to you.

     So what is this strangeness? It is a feeling that I am out of place, a feeling that I am not quite where I'm supposed to be, a feeling that my life is not completely mine own. This may make myself come off as a person who is suffering from depression and serious identity issues. But I am not. I have never been more sure of my identity. I further guarantee you that I am one of the most mentally stable person you will ever meet; very few things are capable of cracking me. My mother once told me that if I keep being too unemotional (which translates to mental stability within the context of conversation), I will die a celibate. Considering my 100% rate of failure in getting into a relationship, I think she may be right. So much for proving that I am mentally stable. Let me then elaborate on the feelings mentioned.

     If I were to write an autobiography of my life up to this point, and I do believe that enough has happened in my life to write a book about it, it would seem more like a work of magical realism as opposed to an autobiography by today's standards; it would portray a story wherein the reality is indistinguishable from the fantastical. If a modern person were to read it, he would say: "This is a load of bullsh*t". I think that the element that would appear to a modern person as bullscheize is coincidence. There are many coincidences in my life. Too many for me to even bother specifying here. There were multiple near-death experiences (even my parents don't know about), unprecedented sufferings, strange relations with people, etc. If a reader were to read it and see all the events of my life unfold and interacting with these coincidences, he will think that he's reading a hero's tale guided by a divine power.

     But when I think on my life, these coincidences are not coincidences at all. The longer I meditate upon them, the conclusion I get is that most of them happened with purpose. Most of these coincidences allowed me to progress my life in such a way to have my self here on a journey to there. It goes without saying that these supposed coincidences are not coincidences but events with meaning. And the more I reflect on these events with meaning, the more I see that my life is not exactly mine own.

     When I hear others' life stories, I see these meaningful events within their lives. I see in their stories another example of magical realism. I see in their stories another hero's tale guided by divine hands. But they consider them merely as events of chance. It dawned on me that the difference between them and myself (and others who share my sentiment) is that I began a habit of stopping and reflecting on every event that happens to me. They perhaps the lack of courage to look into the events; they refuse to examine them out of fear that some events might entail the divine will contrary to one's will, a sentiment of fear I too often have. But when I examine these events I cannot help but to feel and see divine guidance; sometime God sends me, insofar as I am willing to be perceptive, a definitive sign that certain things were meant to happen and that there were no ways of evasion. Each time such signs are given to me, I feel stranger as if I am being more apart from where I am now. Paradoxically, however, I feel more ordinary as such things happen.

     All in all, I think it can be expressed that feeling 22 is a different feeling than when I was 21. The problem, of course, is that I might be feeling 21 when I'm 23 or feeling 20 when I'm about to die; situations I want to avoid as I live out my life. I think it is good that I should feel stranger as I grow older. But never mind that... they are talks of distant future. If you are a practicing Christian like myself, you may be able to empathize with me saying these things. If you think that all this is bull's waste, then I challenge you to be more perceptive. Reflect on the events of your life closely. It is said that an unexamined life is not worth living... For the sake of your life's worth, then, I challenge you.