Isaiah 11: 1 A shoot will come up from the stump of Jesse; from his roots a Branch will bear fruit.2 The Spirit of the Lord will rest on him—the Spirit of wisdom and of understanding, the Spirit of counsel and of might, the Spirit of the knowledge and fear of the Lord—3 and he will delight in the fear of the Lord. He will not judge by what he sees with his eyes, or decide by what he hears with his ears; 4 but with righteousness he will judge the needy, with justice he will give decisions for the poor of the earth. He will strike the earth with the rod of his mouth; with the breath of his lips he will slay the wicked. 5 Righteousness will be his belt and faithfulness the sash around his waist. 6 The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat, the calf and the lion and the yearling] together; and a little child will lead them. 7 The cow will feed with the bear, their young will lie down together, and the lion will eat straw like the ox.
8 The infant will play near the cobra’s den, and the young child will put its hand into the viper’s nest. 9 They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea. 10 In that day he Root of Jesse will stand as a banner for the peoples; the nations will rally to him, and his resting place will be glorious.
The other day, I said to someone at the barn that I was having a hard time coming up with anything new to say about the Advent season Bible passages this year, especially the one this Sunday, about the wolf lying down with the lamb, the leopard with the goat, and the lion eating straw like an ox. I had just tossed some hay into a stall with my horse, Tess, and had just picked up my saddle and was taking it to the tack room, when I heard a voice saying, “Those four-legged Creatures are mentioned in Isaiah, Chapter 11, right?”
“Yes,” I replied, as I continued lugging the saddle toward the tack room.
“And you know who ‘the shoot that springs from the stump of Jesse’ in that same passage is, don’t you?”
“Of course,” I replied. “It’s Jesus, descended from King David, Jesse’s son.”
That’s when it struck me that the voice asking these questions did not sound like that of the person with whom I had just been talking. I stopped and turned around to see that she had already vacated the barn.
“Who said that?” I asked.
“Me, over here in the stall,” the new voice said.
At first, I thought someone was among the horses, cleaning a stall, perhaps. But then I saw Tess moving her mouth and heard her saying, “Make sure you tell people who the ‘little child [who] shall lead them’ is.”
For at least a minute I stood there speechless. What do you say to a talking horse who also knows the Bible?
“Of course, it’s also Jesus,” I finally managed to say.
“Right, your Master and mine,” Tess said. “Don’t you ever forget that we both answer to the same Master.”
Then she said, “Do you think those lions, wolves and leopards are just ‘dumb animals,’ as I’ve heard you call us four-leggeds?”
“Well,” I replied, “What else might they be?”
“To us four-legged grass-eaters, you two-leggeds can be the most frightening kinds of wolves, lions and the leopards. Your very conduct and carriage can be predatory. And not just because your eyes are in the front of your faces, nor because of the cheeseburger I can smell on your breath, not even just because of the ways you treat us sometimes. Think about the ways you two-leggeds treat each other. Whenever the radio’s on, we hear the news about Syria and Chicago. So I hope you appreciate that we ever let you on our backs and carry you around to begin with. And don’t think it’s because you all are so smart, or have opposable thumbs. The love, submission and obedience we show you is every bit as miraculous and unmerited as the peace, love and harmony that Isaiah foresaw. In fact, while you think you are training us to live with you, actually, our common Master is using us to train you two-leggeds to live in peace with Him and each other.”
Seeing how stunned and speechless I was at this revelation, Tess then said, “Look, we accept that our common Master has delegated to you two-leggeds the task of representing him to us other creatures, giving us constructive work to do, and taking care of us. You’ve got the work part down all right, but you could use some improvement in the caring and nurture department. Both are what our mutual Master’s charge to you is about.”
“What would help?” I asked.
“Too bad you can’t do like our mutual Master did for you, become one of us, and be born in a barn, like he and I were. Just don’t let the fact that our Master took your shape go to your head. It wasn’t because you two-leggeds deserve that honor the most, but because you need it the most.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
Tess replied, with a look of pride in her eyes, “Oh, all of us animals remember, with honor, our part in our Master’s coming in our creaturely flesh. We’re made of the same clay as you, you know. So His coming was for our sakes, as well as yours. And we don’t come off all that badly in the gospel story, better than most of you two-leggeds. One of us carried our Master into Jerusalem, and I honestly don’t mind that it was a donkey, not a horse. Then there were the sheep who also heard the song of the angels at the night of his birth. If, some night, you could break the spell of those glowing rectangles inside your houses and come hang out with us in the barn or in the pastures, you might experience a foretaste of the peace about which the angels sang. It’s the same peace that Isaiah foresaw in Chapter 11.”
After a moment of reflection, I asked, “But when it says ‘a little child shall lead them,’ doesn’t that show that us two-leggeds are still in charge?”
“Yes,” Tess replied, “But it also shows that your leadership should be like child-like. Not childish, but like the child born at Bethlehem.”
Seeing that I wasn’t getting that last part, Tess then said, “Like the lady who gentled me after I was foaled. She never hid her sheer child-like delight in me, and showed it by just hanging out with my mother and me. She understood my youthful fears, so she waited to touch me until after I got curious and first approached her. Before she ever put a halter on me, she held it out to me until I lost my fear and expressed interest in it, and then she gently stroked me with it. All the time that she gently and patiently attended me, she earned my trust and stimulated my interest. Then she trained me, patiently, by gaining my confidence in one new thing before leading me on to another. Over time, then, I also gained confidence in her love for me. Our common Master came to us at Bethlehem, with the same patience, love and gentleness that my first trainer showed me. That’s how “the shoot from the stump of Jesse” still treats you two-leggeds. And that’s how “a little child shall lead” us. That’s why he is also called ‘The Lamb.’ If you two-leggeds could use your smarts and your strengths in those gentle, childlike ways, then we can say that the leopard and the lamb, the wolf and the kid, are living together in peace inside of you.”
“Don’t you notice any ways that I already treat you like that?” I asked Tess.
“You have been generous with the carrots, I’ll grant you that,” Tess replied. “I also like it whenever you share your apples with me. But tell me, why do you always have to have the first bite?”
I was trying to think of a polite way to explain myself when Tess snorted in that way that seems to mean, “Oh, whatever!” Then she lowered her head into the pile of hay and started eating. Since then, Tess has only communicated with me in the usual physical, nonverbal, horse ways, leaving me to wonder if I had confused a dream with real life.
Or had I just taken another knock to the noggin?
I still wish I could come up with something new to say about Isaiah 11 and the wolf and the lamb thing.