A Shoot from the Stump of Jesse: A Lively O Antiphon

If you haven’t gathered, I’m not very arts and craftsy. I confess that I only “did” a Jesse Tree once when the boys were little guys. It was sparser than Charlie Brown’s and the flimsy paper discs strung with fuzzy yarn were not keepsake so I won’t post a picture. It was (But I would love to see a photo of yours!)

The Jesse Tree—a representation of Jesus’ genealogy in the form of a tree—was popular in medieval art. I hope you enjoy viewing that instead of my sorry tree. 

Jesse Tree or Jesse Stump?

The term “Jesse Tree” comes from that messianic prophecy in Isaiah 11:1. It happens to be the December 19th “O Antiphon.” Learn more on those in my first O Antiphon post. For now, I’ll simply direct you to this rendition of O Come, O Come, Emmanuel which includes all seven verses, which means—joy, joy!—all seven “O Antiphons.”

“There shall come forth a shoot (ḥōṭer- twig, rod) from the stump of Jesse, and a branch from his roots shall bear fruit.”

—Isaiah 11:1

There are so many directions I could take this single verse. But because mortality feels heavier this week—two friends are in critical surgeries as I type, school deaths shook my state Monday, and I was privy to a bloody mess— I’ll go this way:

A tender shoot will sprout from a dead-looking stump and defeat death.

The shoot is the “Rod of Jesse” in the ancient carol. That title of Jesus means more this year.

Because there must be life for a shoot to come from a stump, and for a lively branch from a dried up root to bear fruit.

But “O Radix Jesse,” the root of Jesse, was dead.

Dead like a stump. Dead like the tall, lofty Assyrian trees God had just promised a verse before the “Root of Jesse” verse that he would chop down (Isaiah 10:33-34). Or dead like a Elizabethan or Saraian post-menopausal womb. Dead like relationships that “couldn’t care less if I see you again” dead. Dead as a door-nail, or coffin-nail, dead.

Cold, hard, dark dead. Hopeless, worthless, lifeless dead.

Dead, like a stump of Jesse dead.

Hundreds of years before Isaiah prophesied, God had promised David his offspring an eternal kingdom:

“When your days are over and you rest with your ancestors, I will raise up your offspring to succeed you, your own flesh and blood, and I will establish his kingdom. He is the one who will build a house for my Name, and I will establish the throne of his kingdom forever. I will be his father, and he will be my son. . . . Your house and your kingdom will endure forever before me; your throne will be established forever” (2 Samuel 7:12–16). 

Writing a couple hundred years after that promise, Isaiah already knew. The hope of Israel would falter. God’s promise to Jesse’s son would fade. That’s how it felt to the Israelites when the Assyrians conquered, captured, and scattered them hither and yon.

A tender shoot came to a dark land.

Isaiah prophesied the stump and shoot before the Assyrians devastated the Israel. He looked years and hundreds of years and thousands of years ahead to the vast Messianic Prophetic mountain range.

As if it couldn’t get worse, about 150 years after Israel fell to Assyria, Babylon would drag Judah’s last king Zedekiah away. He would kill his sons before his eyes then poke out Zedekiah’s eyes. The army would break down Jerusalem’s walls and burn the temple. There was no son on David’s throne. Jesse’s roots were shriveled and his stump was dead.

But after four hundred dark years without a word from God, a rose bloomed in Bethlehem.

“On those living in the land of the shadow of death, the light has shined” (Isaiah 9:2; Matthew 4:16). A tender little twig bursts with life. Think the size and suppleness you’d pick for a marshmallow-roasting rod or gangly shoot on your lilac bush in June.

Alive, like a shoot from a stump of Jesse alive.

There must be life for a shoot to come from a stump, and for a branch from a root to bear fruit. In Jesus is life (John 1:4). Remember what Jesus told Martha and Mary before he raised Lazarus from the dead (John 11:25)? 

I am the resurrection and the life! He that believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live.

Jesus is the shoot, the rod, that springs forth out of that “dead” stump of Jesse. He is the branch that comes forth from the dried up roots of Jesse family tree. Jesus was born of David’s less famous, more humble father Jesse—Matthew’s genealogy makes that clear.

So did Paul in Acts 13:22-23,

After removing Saul, he made David their king. God testified concerning him: ‘I have found David son of Jesse, a man after my own heart; he will do everything I want him to do.’ Of this man’s offspring God has brought to Israel a Savior, Jesus, as he promised.

For good measure, in Romans 15:12, Paul adds,

And again Isaiah says,

“The root of Jesse will come,
    even he who arises to rule the Gentiles;
in him will the Gentiles hope.” (Romans 15:12)

Jesus is the tender shoot from Jesse’s dried-up stump.

Jesus is the fruitful shoot that grows out of Jesse’s root. In him is life.

Christ’s life flows into all who hope in him. Because Jesus has life in himself. He laid it down for our sake’s and then he took it up again (John 10:17-18). And one day, he promised, “the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live. For as the Father has life in himself, so he has granted the Son also to have life in himself” (John 5:25-26).  

The shoot from the stump of Jesse sprang up to bring us life. He died to break death’s power and free us from our fear of death (Hebrews 2:14-15). Jesse’s rod frees us from death’s tyranny.  

That, friends, is why I’m singing the “Rod of Jesse” verse with gusto. In Jesus is life. Mortality will die because of the living, life-giving shoot.

If you’re in Jesus, you live. Though you die, you live.

Are you all warmed up for more “O Antiphons”?

Oh, good! I can help.

1. Listen to Rain for Roots sing a very catchy Isaiah 11 waiting song here.

2. Read, or listen, to a “Radix Jess” O Antiphon poem by Malcolm Guite here.

3. Sign up for the blog here and get next week’s “O Key of David” Advent post.