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There
once lived a couple (a man and his wife) in a small house
in the city. One day the man noticed that a tree, a sapling
really, was starting to grow through the living room floor.
He thought about mentioning it to his wife. But he didn't,
lest he appear foolish. For who had ever heard of a tree growing
through the living room floor? His wife noticed the tree also,
but didn't say anything either. With each passing day, the
tree grew larger. It grew taller and its trunk, thicker. Pretty
soon it was no longer a sapling, but a sturdy young tree.
The man and his wife watched the tree grow. But they never
mentioned it, for who had ever heard of a tree growing through
the living room floor?
Time passed.
The tree grew quickly. Every fall it would shed its leaves
on the rug. Insects would fly about and burrow in its bark.
Birds began building nests in its branches. And the rug was
really quite a mess, what with dead leaves, twigs and bits
of bark lying around. The man and his wife had to spend a
good deal of time cleaning up around the tree. But they never
mentioned it to each other. For no one had ever heard of a
tree growing through the living room floor.
As time
went by, the trunk grew thicker and thicker. Every day the
man and his wife had to make a bigger and bigger detour in
order to go from one side of the room to the other. As the
branches grew and spread every which way, they had to bend
their heads in walking about the room. But neither mentioned
the tree to each other. For who had ever heard of a tree growing
through the living room floor?
Time marched
on. The man and his wife spent more and more of their time
cleaning the rug, ducking lower and lower under the branches,
and walking in greater and greater detours around the trunk.
On one side, the trunk almost touched the wall, forcing them
to suck in their stomachs in order to get from one side of
the room to the other. Both were thoroughly unhappy with the
situation. But neither saw fit to mention it. For who had
ever heard of a tree growing through the living room floor?
One day,
however, the man said to his wife: "It seems that there's
a tree growing through the living room floor." His wife
said that she, too, had noticed it and wasn't very happy about
it, because she had to spend so much of her time cleaning.
And the man said that he was tired of sucking in his stomach
to squeeze from one side of the room to the other. And his
wife said that she didn't like making greater and greater
detours around the trunk. And the man said that he was tired
of ducking and bending beneath the branches. So the next day,
they had the tree removed. The man and his wife were much
happier. After that, whenever a tree started growing through
the living room floor, they removed it before it got to be
too much of a problem.
*
* * * *
I do not
know who this couple is. Neither do I know where this couple
lives. I do know the man who tells their story. He lives in
Connecticut. His name is Steven Pearce. He is a rabbi. I find
myself wondering if the good Rabbi Pearce has been looking
in local living rooms lately. For I suspect there are a good
many trees to be found in the living rooms of Birmingham as
well.
Sometimes
people let me see their trees. Sometimes they even ask my
help in cutting them down. But before a tree can be surgically
removed, there must be some prior acknowledgement that the
tree exists. And the point of the good rabbi's story is that
it is a lack of acknowledgement, rather than the growth of
the tree, that lies at the root of the problem.
Which
brings us to our first truth about trees growing in living
rooms. The tree is not the problem. In fact, notice the relative
ease with which the tree is removed, once the man and his
wife acknowledge its presence and admit that it bothers them.
What is the tree, you ask? Let me be a bit like Jesus and
answer one question by asking another. What is it that you
are not talking about in your living room, that is beginning
to cause difficulties in some significant relationship in
your life?
A very
lovely lady died a while back because of a tree that was growing
in her face. Only it looked like a mole. People had noticed
it for years. While far from offensive, it was certainly no
beauty mark. A few friends (recognizing that it is sometimes
kinder to be candid) asked: "Why don't you have something
done about that?" I'm not sure that she ever answered
them honestly. Just recently, someone told me what the real
issue was. The issue was that she didn't like doctors ...
at all. So she didn't go to them ... at all. I do not know
what her husband and children felt about doctors. Or about
her mole. I suppose that, over time, the subject became another
one of those "trees" that is easier to ignore than
remove.
For decades
the mole was as dormant as any discussion about it. Until
one day it wasn't ... dormant, that is. It went from nothing
to something. It went from normalcy to malignancy. And a couple
of months ago, they did something about it. They buried her.
But for years, the mole was not the problem. The problem was
her refusal to see it, face it, or talk about it.
Lots of
trees that grow through living room floors relate to matters
of the body. There is the check-up we do not have ... the
diet we do not follow ... the symptom we do not treat ...
the signal we do not heed. Some of the trees relate to the
alcohol that we consume or the pills that we swallow. But,
again, the problem is not the tree. The problem is in the
denial of its existence.
Almost
anything can be denied. And almost anything will be denied,
provided that it relates to an issue of sufficient magnitude,
so as to have its revelation threaten the serenity of the
household. Some people do not talk about money and how it
is made or spent. Other people do not talk about jobs and
how they are lost or found. Still other people do not talk
about the self-destructive personality patterns exhibited
by one of their children. Many people avoid expressing doubts
about their faith. Still others steer clear of voicing dissatisfaction
with their circle of friends, or acknowledging a growing sense
of drift and boredom with life itself. And sometimes the most
difficult tree to acknowledge is about love that is not being
made in the bedroom, or the fear that love is perhaps being
made in someone else's bedroom. But the point is still the
same. The tree is not the problem.
Which
leads to a second truth about trees. Most trees thrive on
neglect. One of the most amazing things about relationships
is how seldom things go away as a result of being ignored.
This is a hard truth for me to acknowledge. For I am a person
who would like to believe that just the opposite is true.
By nature, I would rather skirt things than face them. I would
like to believe that you really can let sleeping dogs lie
and, either they will never wake up or, if they do, they will
arise with sweet dispositions and faulty memories. I would
like to believe that time really does heal all things, even
though I know that very few things are healed by time and
that most things are healed by people. Trees thrive on neglect.
Introducing
a third truth about trees in the living room. We delude ourselves
if we think that denying their existence means that they will
have no power to affect our lives. Recall that the tree in
the good rabbi's story extracted enormous concessions from
two people who could never acknowledge its presence. They
had to clean up after it, detour around it and duck under
its branches.
Think
of the family members who can never acknowledge that one of
their number has a drinking problem, but who never invite
anybody over because of the possibility of unpredictable behavior
on the part of the person who is drinking. Or think of the
family which is afraid to take a vacation because of a teenager
in the household who will not go, yet cannot be trusted to
stay at home. Still, in these and similar issues, the problem
is not the tree. The problem is the way the tree is hidden,
particularly if people deceive themselves into thinking that
its existence takes no toll.
Let me
hasten to add that I am not a terribly public person. Like
most people in my generation, I was schooled in the art of
concealment. Dirty linen was never to show. And recognizing
that, I am not saying it is imperative that everything be
laid out for all to see. So if you are among the more reticent
types who do not bleed on cue, that's all right. But do not
delude yourself into thinking that unacknowledged trees take
no toll. They do. They take an enormous toll. The reason consists
in the fact that it takes great personal energy to maintain
a system of denial for very long. And nobody has that much
energy. Nobody. If you don't believe me, just ask yourself
how easy it is to pretend in front of people. And if it is
so easy, why do you gradually stop going places where you
feel you have to pretend? And what happens when the place
you have to pretend the most, is the one place you can't get
away from ... the place where you live?
With that
idea nailed down, are you ready for a fourth truth about trees?
If only one person in the house sees the tree, it is no less
real. Sightings of trees in the living room do not require
cross-verification.
Sometimes,
those who refuse to acknowledge the trees are teenagers. "Things
are fine," they say. They have told us a hundred times
that things are fine. Why do we keep trying to make problems
where there are none? Why don't we stay off their backs? But
what do we do when we sense that things are not fine? I once
heard an absolutely wonderful speech by a teen sexuality counselor.
Somewhere within it she recited the three classic parental
laments:
How
do you help when help is resented?
How
do you guide when guidance is rejected?
How
do you communicate when attention is perceived as attack?
Sometimes
the one who refuses to acknowledge the tree is the spouse.
One common scenario, in the wake of the Women's Movement,
is a desire on the part of some wives to redefine the nature
of marriage itself. When I once made reference to this in
a sermon, a woman paused to speak to me at the door. She said:
"My husband's response to all of this is to shake his
head and proclaim, `You certainly are not the same woman I
married.' To which I customarily answer, `I certainly hope
not.'"
I suppose
that a lot of women (and no small number of men) are not the
same person. Which means that the same marriage will not work.
But people tend to become uncomfortable with that. And the
people who feel the greatest discomfort are usually male.
A man has a hard time seeing trees growing through the living
room floor. "I have no problem," he says. "I
am fine. We have no problem. The marriage is fine. You have
a problem. You are not fine. Go find someone who will help
you with your problem."
But that's
not true. A marriage is a very delicately balanced system.
There is no such thing as one person having a problem. If
it is a problem for you, it is a problem for us. And if I
delude myself into thinking that I bear no responsibility
for it (and that you should go fix it), I have no right to
be surprised when (someday) you just go.
Truth
number five may seem paradoxical. But hear me out. The truth
is this. Talking about the tree, in some cases may actually
do more harm than good. But how can that be? Isn't "better
communication" the twentieth century panacea for everything
that ails us from the boardroom to the bedroom? How, pray
tell, can talking about the tree do more harm than good?
Well,
communication is just a tool. And tools can be misused. Besides,
it is a myth to think that people in struggling marriages
and families don't talk. They talk a lot. Some of them talk
endlessly. They talk until three o'clock in the morning before
falling into bed exhausted. Then they get up and resume talking
at breakfast. They say everything, over and over again. But
they don't solve anything. That's because they hold "press
conferences." They present their position. They state
their case. They tell their side. They describe where they
are "coming from." But I have yet to find anybody
who ever solved a problem in a press conference.
All of
this leads to a final and concluding truth about trees. Truth
number six is this. A willingness to talk about the tree must
also imply a commitment to do something about it. In the last
analysis, there is only one basic "grounds for divorce."
And it is not adultery, addiction, or abuse. It is, instead,
a consistent unwillingness (on the part of one or both parties)
to address (and begin working on) the problems that threaten
the relationship. Such problems, of course, may include adultery,
addiction and abuse.
The idea
of "working on" a problem implies several things.
First of all, it implies mutuality. It is extremely hard to
work on something by yourself. It can be done for a while.
But private work on a relationship issue becomes, over time,
a very poor substitute.
"Working
on" a problem also implies negotiation. It means that
in the midst of stating my case, I must be willing to surrender
something of my case, the better that I can accommodate something
of yours.
And in
addition to mutuality and negotiation, "working on"
a problem also implies a willingness to forgive and be forgiven.
Walter Wangerin puts it so beautifully: "Communication
often magnifies a sin. Forgiveness, alone, puts that sin to
bed."
*
* * * *
Is any
of this biblical? Gosh, I hope so. Especially since there
is a terrible scarcity of good biblical material on how to
be married and raise a family. In the New Testament, all that
we find are a few lines from Paul (who neither married nor
raised a family). What's more, he didn't think it was a good
idea. And concerning marriage, Jesus said that once you get
that way you ought to stay that way. But the Bible makes you
do a lot of reading between the lines in order to figure out
how.
But as
concerns trees growing through living room floors, there is
ample evidence that Jesus thought you ought to spot them,
face them and cut them down. I challenge you to read the stories
that describe Jesus in the midst of conversations with other
people. Pay particular attention to those encounters wherein
Jesus is talking to one or two individuals rather than a crowd.
Read them carefully. Then tell me what you read. Do you read
any hint of avoidance, denial or pretending? Can you picture
Jesus not bringing something up because of its difficulty?
Can you picture Jesus skirting "touchy" subjects,
the better to ensure that all conversations will be harmonious?
Or do you read, in Jesus, a style that is both compassionately
honest and lovingly confrontational? Listen!
- Peter,
you are probably the best friend I have in the world. But
sometimes you are so incredibly dense, to the point of saying
things that border on the satanic. When those things happen,
I find myself wishing that you'd stand a long way behind
me, even to the point of getting out of my life.
- My
young friend, I find myself drawn to you. I like you a lot.
It is clear to me that you have a great deal of money. But
it is also clear to me that your love for your money is
greater than your love for anything else ... including me.
So give it up, already.
- For
heaven's sake, Martha, I only get through Bethany once in
a blue moon. So will you please sit down and stop fussing
with the pots.
- Zacchaeus,
this is by far and away the best meal I have ever eaten
in Jericho. But it doesn't obscure the fact that you are
a crook.
- Come
off it, lady; we both know that you have already had five
husbands.
I've got
ten more lines, just like these, in my notes at home. But
what I want you to remember is that this somewhat confrontational
style drew more people to Jesus than it drove away. In fact,
the lady with multiple husbands went back to her hometown
that night, marveling that anybody could know so much about
her and still care so much for her.
I simply
do not know what Jesus would say about the day-to-day working
of marriage and family life. What I do know is that it was
very much in the nature of Jesus to call a tree a tree.
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