Bestvater, Ron

English

Wilfrid Laurier University

ConsensusVolume 32Issue 1 Cultural Reception of the Gospel Article 95-1-2007The parable of the dying birch treeRon BestvaterFollow this and additional works at: http://scholars.wlu.ca/consensusThis Studies and Observations is brought to you for free and open access by Scholars Commons @ Laurier. It has been accepted for inclusion inConsensus by an authorized editor of Scholars Commons @ Laurier. For more information, please contact scholarscommons@wlu.ca.Recommended CitationBestvater, Ron (2007) "The parable of the dying birch tree," Consensus: Vol. 32 : Iss. 1 , Article 9.Available at: http://scholars.wlu.ca/consensus/vol32/iss1/9STUDIES AND OBSERVATIONSEdited by Timothy M. J. Hegedus35Published by Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2007The Parable of the Dying Birch TreeRon BestvaterLutheran Theological Seminary, Saskatoon(For Herb Moeller, who told us so.)Autumn can reveal truths about the condition of the Garden. Theharsher weather, with cold, frosty nights, warm days of drought, andstrong winds driving occasional early snows – all combine withnature’s regular cycle of dormancy. Leaves held loosely on the treesare swept away first. Now the trees’ health can be plainly seen: upperbranches thin and spindly and empty, silhouetted against the brilliantblue sky, lower branches clinging tenaciously to their leaves, many ofthem still green despite the frosts. The line of demarcation between theblighted branches and the healthy is creeping downward autumn afterautumn, this despite the efforts of park attendants and the tree itself.Some trees die from the top down. The youngest, newestbranches are most vulnerable to the pollutants in the air. Thesebranches are the future of the tree. They reach the highest and furthestout into the environment of the air, they host the birds and butterfliesand beautiful spider webs, they give the tree its quick response toWind, its vibrancy, its whisper, its life. Yet is it here that the pests takecontrol, where the devouring caterpillar pitches his ugly tents, wherethe unseen toxins in polluted air take their greatest toll. All through the Garden, the birches are looking like this. Is it adeficiency in the soil? Is it a lack of water? Perhaps park staff havealready attended to these essentials in hope of helping the tree resistthe blight. But these good intentions are undone by careless trimmingof the lower, relatively healthy branches, those which stabilize thetree and provide abundant food through photosynthesis and sap. Wecut away these branches to shape the tree according to our image ofwhat it should be, how it should grow, what power lines its should notcross. And the line of demarcation between death and life movescloser to the ground every autumn. The birch tree is dying.There are other trees around the birch tree: evergreens tall andstately, Manitoba maples with spreading umbrellas, sapling poplarsgrowing quickly, and ashes with their huge heavy leaves. These trees37http://scholars.wlu.ca/consensus/vol32/iss1/9are all doing fine. Couldn’t we just plant another one of them andremove the birch tree? But then what the birch tree brings to theGarden will be gone. Her million tiny leaves, each one an efficient miniature airpurifier, would be replaced by those big, slick poplar leaves that don’tquite do the same job, nor quite as well. Besides, Mother Nature hasto work a lot harder to compost them back into the soil. And thebirch’s tiny branches, so well suited as cover and perch for the littlersong birds, would be replaced by the huge soaring ravens and hawksthat gawk and squawk at those who pass below, but don’t sing thesame lovely song of praise to the Creator. And the birch’s beautifulbark – good for paper and writing and painting, for wrapping arounda gift, for blazing a trail by in the moonlight – it will be replaced bythe brooding gray of the ash or poplar, the ominous black of ironwoodor elm, the ghostly pith and sticky pitch of the towering fir. But noneof them brightens the path or the heart with hope in the foggy night. And the birch’s fragrance! Breathe deep beneath the birch as youpass by and you are transported to the home fires waiting, warmth andlight for conversation and cooking, the chimney smoking from the long-burning wood. Sure, poplar and fir burn too, but it’s not quite the same.Hear The Parable of The Birch TreeThe Lutheran Congregations of the Great Northern Prairies are likethe dying birch tree. They are dying from the top down. Theiryounger members – meant to be their future and their energy and joyin the present, the youth and families with young children who reachfar, far out into the society around the congregation – these have theleast ability to resist the toxins in our culture, the pollutions of mindand morals that spew out of computers and theatres and videoarcades, the acid attacks on faithful living that are thrown upon thebaptized in classrooms and clubs and arenas day after day after day. Season after season, the caterpillars of fundamentalist ideas crawlout of the tents of “parachurch movements” or “neighbourhood biblestudies” to devour every leaf in sight. Soon the tree isn’t acomfortable resting place nor a welcoming picnic site, not even forthe occasional visiting song bird or hardy young family that stillcomes. So many emotional parasites are crawling through the treeand falling on their food that they too seek shelter elsewhere, and thedying process is hastened. Some “Church Growth Movements,” with38 ConsensusPublished by Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2007tradition-grinding intentions, doctrine-levelling teachings, and age-sensitive programmes, offer to help save the tree but end up trimmingthe oldest and lowest branches away, leaving the poor tree even morevulnerable to the processes it is so gallantly trying to overcome. Now, less sap flows through the tree – the dollars and opinions ofthe experienced, so necessary for the survival of the congregation –as older members feel cut off, blocked out, unwanted, neglected.Sometimes they fight back, lopping off the upper branches of thegenerations higher than themselves, but that only further hastens thedying process. Even if the younger branches transplant in a churchsplit, it usually leaves two weakened trees to die together even morequickly, for how can one survive the winter without the help andprotection of the other? Church Consultants, when they come at all, bring water andfertilizer and knowledge of pest control; but often their help is mixedwith chemicals that poison the little birds that the tree wants toshelter, a covering which chokes off the exchange between air andleaf which is the tree’s purpose and breath, and a stain darkening thebeautiful white bark giving the tree her distinctive beauty. If it survives, will it still be a birch? Or just another generichardwood indistinguishable from all the other generic hardwoods?Neighbouring clergy pass by and breathe deep; they can alreadyimagine the wonderful smell of birch burning in their home fires.They shake their heads. It won’t be long now. Church officials, whodepend on the tree to support their far-off offices, often aren’t muchmore helpful. Sometimes it seems that all they want is some of itsbark or wood or sap for themselves; sometimes they even give theimpression that the tree is dying by its own choice. So let it die, we’llplant another in its roots. Sure, that one might grow, but what willhappen when it reaches this stage? All the birches seem to start dyingat about the same height.The People DisputeLet them die? The risk is very great. The sensitive song of theLutheran Heritage might not be heard in that land. The more difficultarts of Christian integrity, as Lutherans practice them, might nolonger be offered to shade society. The tenacious roots of Lutheranbiblical confessionalism might no longer help hold the soil of theGarden in place against the heavy rains. The unique coloration ofThe Parable of the Dying Birch Tree 39http://scholars.wlu.ca/consensus/vol32/iss1/9Luther’s “saint and sinner” paradox might not be present to helpguide those who are searching for Home in our culture’s dark nightof moral upheaval and economic concentration. The efficientinteraction of grace and society provided by the Lutheran doctrines ofthe priesthood of all believers and the two kingdoms might no longerpulse through classroom and club and team and workplace. The long-burning fire of the Spirit that burns in the struggle of Lutheranchurches with repentance and confession for their sins might not bethere to warm the provincial hearth. The solid lower arms of theTheology of the Cross which stabilizes the Lutheran Church mightnot be there to help younger churches lift themselves upwards inpursuit of the fresh wind of Truth. And the rich deep taproot ofliturgical, sacramental, evangelical worship with its equal accent onpreaching and table which characterizes the Lutheran Church mightnot be available for the hungry, searching, sensitive soul. Perhaps other churches will grow in their place … but will theydo the same job?Jesus Sends the Disciples OutThere is some chance that if backhoes are not sent to dig up the birchand send it to be burned at the nuisance ground, it will yet survive.The forces of health might yet find a way to counter the forces ofdisease. So says The Carpenter, and He knows His trees. A little while ago I heard Him say, “Don’t cut it down yet.” Iwatched what he could do with his careful approach, and I’ve decidedto work with him. “Yet one more season,” he says every time theCouncil proposes to get that dying tree out of the Garden. “Let me justdig around it and put manure on it,” he says, “and trim out the tentsthat host the blight, and wash off the leaves covered with pestilence,and wrap the upper branches that resist the toxic air. And only whenwe’re all absolutely sure that there is no life left in that tree, that it’stotally and completely dead, well, then you can cut it down … andbring it to me, and I will square it and plane it and make timbers of itsknotty trunk, and of those timbers I’ll make a cross, and of its dry andtwisted branches I will make firewood, and of the firewood I willmake a fragrant sacrificial fire, and the Son of Man will be offered upfor the saving of the Garden so that all dying trees might Live.”So the Master Carpenter serves the Dying Church, and bids usjoin him in his intercession for the Dying Tree, and leads us in dying40 ConsensusPublished by Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2007to ourselves and rising daily in the Spirit, a Tree of Life, a shelter anda host and a source of grace.The Parable of the Dying Birch Tree 41http://scholars.wlu.ca/consensus/vol32/iss1/9

The parable of the dying birch tree

Scholars Commons

Consensus
Volume 32
Issue 1 Cultural Reception of the Gospel Article 9
5-1-2007
The parable of the dying birch tree
Ron Bestvater
Follow this and additional works at: http://scholars.wlu.ca/consensus
This Studies and Observations is brought to you for free and open access by Scholars Commons @ Laurier. It has been accepted for inclusion in
Consensus by an authorized editor of Scholars Commons @ Laurier. For more information, please contact scholarscommons@wlu.ca.
Recommended Citation
Bestvater, Ron (2007) "The parable of the dying birch tree," Consensus: Vol. 32 : Iss. 1 , Article 9.
Available at: http://scholars.wlu.ca/consensus/vol32/iss1/9
STUDIES AND OBSERVATIONS
Edited by Timothy M. J. Hegedus
35
Published by Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2007
The Parable of the Dying Birch Tree
Ron Bestvater
Lutheran Theological Seminary, Saskatoon
(For Herb Moeller, who told us so.)
Autumn can reveal truths about the condition of the Garden. The
harsher weather, with cold, frosty nights, warm days of drought, and
strong winds driving occasional early snows – all combine with
nature’s regular cycle of dormancy. Leaves held loosely on the trees
are swept away first. Now the trees’ health can be plainly seen: upper
branches thin and spindly and empty, silhouetted against the brilliant
blue sky, lower branches clinging tenaciously to their leaves, many of
them still green despite the frosts. The line of demarcation between the
blighted branches and the healthy is creeping downward autumn after
autumn, this despite the efforts of park attendants and the tree itself.
Some trees die from the top down. The youngest, newest
branches are most vulnerable to the pollutants in the air. These
branches are the future of the tree. They reach the highest and furthest
out into the environment of the air, they host the birds and butterflies
and beautiful spider webs, they give the tree its quick response to
Wind, its vibrancy, its whisper, its life. Yet is it here that the pests take
control, where the devouring caterpillar pitches his ugly tents, where
the unseen toxins in polluted air take their greatest toll. 
All through the Garden, the birches are looking like this. Is it a
deficiency in the soil? Is it a lack of water? Perhaps park staff have
already attended to these essentials in hope of helping the tree resist
the blight. But these good intentions are undone by careless trimming
of the lower, relatively healthy branches, those which stabilize the
tree and provide abundant food through photosynthesis and sap. We
cut away these branches to shape the tree according to our image of
what it should be, how it should grow, what power lines its should not
cross. And the line of demarcation between death and life moves
closer to the ground every autumn. The birch tree is dying.
There are other trees around the birch tree: evergreens tall and
stately, Manitoba maples with spreading umbrellas, sapling poplars
growing quickly, and ashes with their huge heavy leaves. These trees
37
http://scholars.wlu.ca/consensus/vol32/iss1/9
are all doing fine. Couldn’t we just plant another one of them and
remove the birch tree? But then what the birch tree brings to the
Garden will be gone. 
Her million tiny leaves, each one an efficient miniature air
purifier, would be replaced by those big, slick poplar leaves that don’t
quite do the same job, nor quite as well. Besides, Mother Nature has
to work a lot harder to compost them back into the soil. And the
birch’s tiny branches, so well suited as cover and perch for the littler
song birds, would be replaced by the huge soaring ravens and hawks
that gawk and squawk at those who pass below, but don’t sing the
same lovely song of praise to the Creator. And the birch’s beautiful
bark – good for paper and writing and painting, for wrapping around
a gift, for blazing a trail by in the moonlight – it will be replaced by
the brooding gray of the ash or poplar, the ominous black of ironwood
or elm, the ghostly pith and sticky pitch of the towering fir. But none
of them brightens the path or the heart with hope in the foggy night. 
And the birch’s fragrance! Breathe deep beneath the birch as you
pass by and you are transported to the home fires waiting, warmth and
light for conversation and cooking, the chimney smoking from the long-
burning wood. Sure, poplar and fir burn too, but it’s not quite the same.
Hear The Parable of The Birch Tree
The Lutheran Congregations of the Great Northern Prairies are like
the dying birch tree. They are dying from the top down. Their
younger members – meant to be their future and their energy and joy
in the present, the youth and families with young children who reach
far, far out into the society around the congregation – these have the
least ability to resist the toxins in our culture, the pollutions of mind
and morals that spew out of computers and theatres and video
arcades, the acid attacks on faithful living that are thrown upon the
baptized in classrooms and clubs and arenas day after day after day. 
Season after season, the caterpillars of fundamentalist ideas crawl
out of the tents of “parachurch movements” or “neighbourhood bible
studies” to devour every leaf in sight. Soon the tree isn’t a
comfortable resting place nor a welcoming picnic site, not even for
the occasional visiting song bird or hardy young family that still
comes. So many emotional parasites are crawling through the tree
and falling on their food that they too seek shelter elsewhere, and the
dying process is hastened. Some “Church Growth Movements,” with
38 Consensus
Published by Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2007
tradition-grinding intentions, doctrine-levelling teachings, and age-
sensitive programmes, offer to help save the tree but end up trimming
the oldest and lowest branches away, leaving the poor tree even more
vulnerable to the processes it is so gallantly trying to overcome. 
Now, less sap flows through the tree – the dollars and opinions of
the experienced, so necessary for the survival of the congregation –
as older members feel cut off, blocked out, unwanted, neglected.
Sometimes they fight back, lopping off the upper branches of the
generations higher than themselves, but that only further hastens the
dying process. Even if the younger branches transplant in a church
split, it usually leaves two weakened trees to die together even more
quickly, for how can one survive the winter without the help and
protection of the other? 
Church Consultants, when they come at all, bring water and
fertilizer and knowledge of pest control; but often their help is mixed
with chemicals that poison the little birds that the tree wants to
shelter, a covering which chokes off the exchange between air and
leaf which is the tree’s purpose and breath, and a stain darkening the
beautiful white bark giving the tree her distinctive beauty. 
If it survives, will it still be a birch? Or just another generic
hardwood indistinguishable from all the other generic hardwoods?
Neighbouring clergy pass by and breathe deep; they can already
imagine the wonderful smell of birch burning in their home fires.
They shake their heads. It won’t be long now. Church officials, who
depend on the tree to support their far-off offices, often aren’t much
more helpful. Sometimes it seems that all they want is some of its
bark or wood or sap for themselves; sometimes they even give the
impression that the tree is dying by its own choice. So let it die, we’ll
plant another in its roots. Sure, that one might grow, but what will
happen when it reaches this stage? All the birches seem to start dying
at about the same height.
The People Dispute
Let them die? The risk is very great. The sensitive song of the
Lutheran Heritage might not be heard in that land. The more difficult
arts of Christian integrity, as Lutherans practice them, might no
longer be offered to shade society. The tenacious roots of Lutheran
biblical confessionalism might no longer help hold the soil of the
Garden in place against the heavy rains. The unique coloration of
The Parable of the Dying Birch Tree 39
http://scholars.wlu.ca/consensus/vol32/iss1/9
Luther’s “saint and sinner” paradox might not be present to help
guide those who are searching for Home in our culture’s dark night
of moral upheaval and economic concentration. The efficient
interaction of grace and society provided by the Lutheran doctrines of
the priesthood of all believers and the two kingdoms might no longer
pulse through classroom and club and team and workplace. The long-
burning fire of the Spirit that burns in the struggle of Lutheran
churches with repentance and confession for their sins might not be
there to warm the provincial hearth. The solid lower arms of the
Theology of the Cross which stabilizes the Lutheran Church might
not be there to help younger churches lift themselves upwards in
pursuit of the fresh wind of Truth. And the rich deep taproot of
liturgical, sacramental, evangelical worship with its equal accent on
preaching and table which characterizes the Lutheran Church might
not be available for the hungry, searching, sensitive soul. 
Perhaps other churches will grow in their place … but will they
do the same job?
Jesus Sends the Disciples Out
There is some chance that if backhoes are not sent to dig up the birch
and send it to be burned at the nuisance ground, it will yet survive.
The forces of health might yet find a way to counter the forces of
disease. So says The Carpenter, and He knows His trees. 
A little while ago I heard Him say, “Don’t cut it down yet.” I
watched what he could do with his careful approach, and I’ve decided
to work with him. “Yet one more season,” he says every time the
Council proposes to get that dying tree out of the Garden. “Let me just
dig around it and put manure on it,” he says, “and trim out the tents
that host the blight, and wash off the leaves covered with pestilence,
and wrap the upper branches that resist the toxic air. And only when
we’re all absolutely sure that there is no life left in that tree, that it’s
totally and completely dead, well, then you can cut it down … and
bring it to me, and I will square it and plane it and make timbers of its
knotty trunk, and of those timbers I’ll make a cross, and of its dry and
twisted branches I will make firewood, and of the firewood I will
make a fragrant sacrificial fire, and the Son of Man will be offered up
for the saving of the Garden so that all dying trees might Live.”
So the Master Carpenter serves the Dying Church, and bids us
join him in his intercession for the Dying Tree, and leads us in dying
40 Consensus
Published by Scholars Commons @ Laurier, 2007
to ourselves and rising daily in the Spirit, a Tree of Life, a shelter and
a host and a source of grace.
The Parable of the Dying Birch Tree 41
http://scholars.wlu.ca/consensus/vol32/iss1/9


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