O Flower of Jesse's stem, you have been raised up as a sign for all peoples; kings stand silent in your presence; the nations bow down in worship before you. Come, let nothing keep you from coming to our aid.
Today's Antiphon, whose "short form" rendering is O Root of Jesse (O Radix Jesse, in Latin) is a mashup of two passages from the 11th chapter of Isaiah. The first (11:1) speaks of a bud that will bloom from the "stump of Jesse," while the other (11:10) speaks of "the root of Jesse," which will stand as a symbol to the nations.
The Jesse that is referred to here is father of King David. David came from a family rooted in the tribes of Israel (the Tribe of Judah, to be precise) yet was from the insignificant town of Bethlehem. David himself was considered so insignificant among his own kin that when the prophet Samuel came to visit Jesse's house to seek out the new king, the youth was left in the fields by his father to attend the sheep while his older brothers attended the ceremony. It was only after God told Samuel to reject the older sons that the last born was called, reluctantly, from the flocks to receive the divine anointing. It is one example among many in the sacred Scriptures of God choosing what the world considers the least, making them His chosen instrument in the Lord's plan of salvation.
We also see in this antiphon a theme which we will see repeated again: that the promised Messiah will not just be a fulfillment of the Lord's promise to Israel, but will also be a sign that draws all nations to recognize the one true God.
We live in a world governed by the gaining and exercising of power. This worldly power is a mix of political, economic and military strength that, while not always existing together, often work in concert. We also live in a country that is deeply divided by region, with the urban, presumably more sophisticated, East and West Coasts referring to everything between JFK and LAX as "Flyover Country." (For those of you outside the U.S. who may not know, this isn't meant as a compliment). This pairing of power politics and cultural classism combine to shape perceptions. While we try to deny it, we still think in terms Great Powers, in the geopolitical sphere, who direct the course of events and, in the cultural arena, the well connected taste makers who act as our arbiters of cool.
These two social realities -- the Political - Military - Industrial Complex on one side and the Urban - Media Elites on the other intersect. Their members, quite often, go to the same schools where they meet and "intermarry." In turn, they send their children to be educated together to continue the ritual. They increasingly live in the same Zip Codes, segregated out from the mainstream of their societies. They are the rulers, but increasingly don't understand their subjects. They are caught off guard by the changes happening around them, because they think that they are in control, and that their way is the only way - and all "right thinking" people agree with them.
God shows us a different way. In the case of David, He didn't chose a king of Israel from among the power elites of Jerusalem. He went to the small town of Bethlehem, and had the youngest son of a family of sheep herders anointed to be the nation's leader. In being Incarnated, the Second Person of the Trinity didn't manifest himself in glory and power all at once. He chose to be born of a young, insignificant girl in a provincial backwater - the first century equivalent of Flyover Country. His foster father was a simple carpenter. They had no connections - political cultural or otherwise. But their family was from the root of Jesse, deeply embedded in heritage of the Chosen People. In Jesus, a shoot sprung forth and a bloom shown forth that was recognized by shepherds, foreign astronomers, the blind and the lame, but missed by the politically, culturally and religiously powerful.
As the prophet Micah foretold (5:1), the promised Savior came from Bethlehem, the least of the "clans" of Israel. He, Jesus Christ, is the incarnation of the invisible God, who is at once ever ancient and ever new, as St. Augustine put it. His human roots run deep, back into history. His divinity is eternal, reaching back from before time's beginning, yet stretching forward into infinity. His ways aren't our ways. His wisdom transcends the power relationships and cultural fads of the moment. He doesn't choose what the world deems as powerful and current. He chooses the sign that contradicts, that confounds.
The Kingdom that Jesus came to proclaim arose from humble beginnings. Jesus describes it as a mustard see, the smallest of all, that grows to become a large plant whose branches supply shelter to the birds of the sky. So the Church began as a small band of fewer than twenty people in the Upper Room. With the gift of the Spirit it has grown into a world wide body beyond counting. The world still doubts her power, because it doesn't understand from where her power comes from. Stalin, when told that the Church wanted him to stop oppressing Catholics in the Soviet Union replied, "The Pope? How many divisions has he got?" He was confusing geopolitical and military might, which passes, with a power that is tapped into eternity. The worldly tend to think in terms of days, weeks and, months - maybe years. We are called to think in terms of millennia and beyond. In this particular case Stalin put his trust in tanks and soldiers, which in the end were worn down by the power of immortal Love.
The Church too needs to keep guard not to forget where her power and her mandate come from. A story goes that a pope was showing two cardinals around the newly completed St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. The pontiff proudly showed off the magnificence of the colossal structure, with all its marble, statuary and gold leaf. At one point he turned to the honored prelates and proclaimed proudly, "See all this glory! Peter can no longer say, 'silver and gold, I have not.'" One of the cardinals, not missing a beat, shot back, "Yes, but no longer can he say, 'In the name of Jesus Christ, get up and walk.'" This reference to the Acts of the Apostles 3:1-9, when the chief of the Apostles connected his material poverty to the wealth of spiritual gifts he possessed, is a warning. While there is nothing wrong, and much good in wanting to have houses of worship that are beautiful and fitting, these structures are not the glory of the Church. Much less is the institution, no matter how much influence it thinks it wields. Her power comes from the meek and humble Savior, the bud that shot forth from the stump of Jesse.
It is this quiet power, often unrecognized by the people in the know and scoffed at in the halls of human government, that draws the nations. It's roots are deep, holding fast through the storms of history. It's flower in beautiful beyond compare, calling all the people's of the world to gather around and take shelter under the branches of this Tree of Life.
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