December 19, 2025
O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan’s tyranny;
From depths of hell Thy people save,
And give them victory o’er the grave.
One of my favorite activities is hiking, and one of my favorite objects to observe while hiking is trees. Trees amaze me, from their intricate root systems to the way their limbs design patterns in the winter sky. They symbolize stability, permanence, no matter what season or weather surrounds them. I’m especially taken with the tree pictured here. Note how it has woven itself to the sloped earth, literally “grounded” itself, its roots bare from erosion. Yet the body of the tree continues to rise, to reach, to breath, to live because of its rootedness and the nutrients it receives.
These roots become an apt metaphor for the third title given the Christ (or Light, or Love, or Universe, if you prefer) in the ancient prayer-song of waiting and expectation, the O Antiphons: “And there shall come forth a rod out of the root of Jesse, and a flower shall rise up out of his root” (Isaiah 11:1.). Jesse was the father of King David, the greatest king in Jewish history, and Isaiah prophesied that the Light would come out of this particular lineage of royalty, faithfulness, and humanity.
This morning, as I perused the headlines (something that I limit for my own soul’s well-being), I realized again how little control I have over anything. Yes, I can make personal choices and decisions, but I cannot stop acts of terror, injustice, cruelty, pettiness, violence, and vengeance. I cannot change diagnoses or prevent heartache and grief. I don’t have the power to stop a pandemic, wildfire, or earthquake. As the first of the Twelve Steps puts it, I am powerless over . . . just about everything.
And that realization and acceptance are exactly why I need to be rooted in something bigger than I am so that I don’t topple over.
The image, like a tree, of being rooted in someone bigger than me, someone more faithful than me, someone more loving than me, someone more constant than me, anchors me this Advent in a world that grapples for control and power and victory, things which will not, and cannot, stay, things built, as the old hymn says so wisely, “on sinking sand.”* The promise of this antiphon is that from this solid and stable root of Jesse a flower will blossom, a flower of redemption. Roots grow in darkness, yet from the darkness comes great beauty. I hold that promise to my heart with anticipation.
O Root of Jesse, in this long season of continuing darkness, suspicion, division, fear, doubt, and anger, we call on you to ground us in wisdom and in hope, in faithfulness and in love. Whatever our beliefs, whatever name we use for God, help us to hold fast to you and to give our loyalty to you. Nourish us and use us, we ask, to help make the flowering a part of our lives in a world that so desperately needs your presence and your grace. Grant us in this season of gift-giving the gift of grounding and embolden us to practice it.
Blessings to you ~ Rosemary
*On Christ the Solid Rock I Stand: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V1LtGQLZ87c
O Come, O Come, Emmanuel, sung by Peter Hollens: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zshzkkD-NYA
Photo credit: Rosemary McMahan
Spirit Reflections 
Such a gift at this time. Thank you.
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