By Chaplain Mike
Well, I guess I failed in my effort to “move past analysis and argumentation,” huh? Comments are closed.
With all our discussions about grace lately, I thought I might move past analysis and argumentation to have us consider a story. Not a Bible story, a story for children. My favorite story for children, in fact.
It’s the story of a tree who loved a boy. When the boy came to visit her each day, the tree gave him a place to play and things with which to play—leaves, branches, a trunk to climb, apples to eat, dark spaces in which to play hide and seek. The tree provided a quiet, shady place under which the boy could sit and dream, and sleep when he was tired. The tree loved the boy, and the boy returned her love. They were happy.
As the boy grew, he spent less and less time with the tree. And when he did come to see her, he wanted different things. Branches and leaves and apples and shade were no longer enough. He wanted money, for example. So the tree bid him take her apples and sell them for money. He did, and seeing the boy’s happiness, she too was happy.
When, after many days, the boy came back, he wanted a house. This the tree could not give, but she offered her branches for materials. So the boy cut them off and carried them away and built his house. And the tree was happy.
After many more days, the boy came back again. This time he wanted a boat so that he could travel and see the places far away. The tree offered her trunk, and the boy cut it down, made a boat and sailed away.
A long, long time later, the boy returned. He was no longer a boy, but an old man. Too old and tired for climbing and swinging on trees, his teeth were also too weak to eat apples. He had his house, and had completed his travels. And, in any case, the tree no longer had any of these gifts to offer. Only her stump remained.
“Come, boy.” She said. “I have only a stump. But I see that you are tired, and could use a place to rest. Come and sit down.”
The boy did. And they were happy.
This is the story in Shel Silverstein’s classic children’s book, The Giving Tree
I had a “giving tree” when I was a young boy. It was not an apple tree, as in Silverstein’s book, but a weeping willow. She was the perfect climbing tree in which to go high, high, chasing my dreams. She had the wonderful vine-like branches on which to swing like Tarzan. When those branches fell, they became swords and whips and weapons with which to fight the forces of evil like Robin Hood. The shade of that tree filled our backyard with a serene place of rest on hot summer days. Where the trunk split into multiple parts, it formed a small platform just the right size where a boy could lie and think and imagine the wide world beyond.
Even as a grown man with children and grandchildren of my own, I think of that tree. I long to see her again, to climb and swing and feel her embrace. And when I read this book to my little ones, I rejoice to know that there is One who gives and gives and gives, who for some mysterious reason has bound up his own happiness with ours.
And that is grace.
The Internet Monk Archives 
Milton, I still say you are reading the story as an adult, with adult perceptions. Your observations make sense, from an adult point of view. But this is not an adult story. In children’s stories, trees love, trees give, trees give of themselves and still love and give. If you’re going to choose a tree as your illustration of giving love, how else would it give other than to sacrifice leaves, apples, branches, and trunk?
With this comment, I am going to close this thread. Too many adults and not enough children making comments.
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“Women are encouraged to keep looking for what it is they can give, rather than to challenge the very assumption that their giving is de facto beneficial (was the boy truly helped?) and their sole purpose in life….While the ‘sin’ of giving themselves away is not fully women’s own fault, and giving itself is not to be condemned, perpetual self-giving does not further the humanity of women and men in their lives together. If Silverstein’s parable is any indication, we end up with alienated, dissatisfied men and lonely, diminished women…Giving up oneself–sometimes even in service to another–can be an act of sin if it is passive, splits community into those who care and those who assert, and fails to hold other people accountable for their actions.â€
But if you take a vow for sickness & in health and much giving is required (see my above post) And if you finally surrender (kicking and screaming in my case) there is a great & holy satisfaction for staying in the difficult place of serving another human being… Small potato’s I know. And for a season I did feel lonely & diminished only to come to the realization that I have been on Holy Ground… And now I care for my 79 year old mom, and I feel more alive than ever… I know I am an oddball.
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CM I think that’s a great childrens story. The art and prose really make that book something special, especially the sweet ending.
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Never dawned on me to feel any anger… perhaps that is because I have been that boy, I am ashamed to admit… My Lord has given me so many gifts in my life and I had my arms closed over my heart because I He didn’t give me what I thought was best… My dear husband has suffered so through the years, he was 5’11 when we got married, but the disease (A.S.) has bent him over and he is now 5’1. It has been a mixed bag, when someone you love suffers so terribly, and you are powerless to stop their pain, and all the care-giving on top of that it all broke me… So, I was/am that brat. And I guess instead of feeling anger at myself I feel sorrow… I guess I should feel sorrow for the boy too… I just never read the story with an angry lens…Does that spot-light my selfishness? Perhaps so. I am just thankful that the Lord didn’t throw me out for being me…
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You had no idea this sweet little entry was going here, did you?
this simple observation/question is the nail on the head; the problem for us “loathers” is not that we lack imagination, it’s that our imagination takes us to a different place than the author (I’m assuming) and Chap Mike (I’m certain). There’s no accounting for this either for Chap Mike, Laura, or me: my statements about the parable do not reflect what I think Silverstein means by the story, or wants to be understood, but I think my take is as valid as Chap Mike’s or anyone else’s. Tomato, TOh-Mah-toh…..I guess.
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well…..I sure THOUGHT I was a guy….. havent’ had a doctor’s checkup in ages, I can ask the good Dr. in a week or two while having this decade’s checkup; I think what one poster said about our life experience driving our interpretation has some weight to it.
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Here’s the thing: I think many of us ARE hearing that we are supposed to be the tree, whether we’re supposed to hear ourselves that way or not. Well, I should speak for myself: when I hear that story, I don’t hear myself as the boy, probably because I’ve never been a boy. What I hear is that I am supposed to be like that tree. And that no matter what is asked of me, I should give it up because that’s what giving means. Whether or not that was the intent of the story, that is what I hear. I’m not trying to overthink it. I’m just trying to explain why this book is a source of real pain. It hits a nerve.
You had no idea this sweet little entry was going here, did you?
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“It’s simply about love that gives”
The tree was a dead stump at the end. The tree had been completely destroyed. And still the boy came and sat down on it in the end. The final insult.
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Amen Brendan. Amen.
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I agree with you Marie. The boy took and took from the tree until the tree had NOTHING left to give. The tree was a victim.
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He cut the tree down!
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So, Gail, you don’t feel any anger whatsoever at the way the tree is horribly mistreated by that little brat?
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oh marie… ok. i hear you. sorry for the snarky comment… thanks for setting me straight!
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Ah, but H. Lee, God was destroyed and diminished when he gave himself away for us. Sacrificial love is just that—sacrificial. If we truly give of ourselves, we die.
Now, the story certainly doesn’t go beyond that to the Christian resolution through resurrection. But it got the love part right.
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what she said; I think it’s foolish to let our “imagination” to run wild with the tree…..and just pretend that the little boy, not so little boy, adult, old adult, just took, took, took, took…….oh, forgot the good part: AND WAS HAPPY…… that is not a nice story: that’s a load of BS;
there, now I’m crazy and cranky
GregR
PS: it doesn’t bother me that anyone loves the book, but I know what I love and what I don’t
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My comment was tongue in cheek, Laura. But your reply points to a primary problem of interpretation. I think one thing that can be said about the story is this: we are not supposed to see ourselves as the tree. We are not “being told to give and give and give until there’s nothing left but a dead stump.” Nor is the story implying that we are bad children, taking and taking and taking until there is nothing left but a dead stump. It’s simply about love that gives.
My point is that we are all over-thinking here. I mean, what’s next? Jack Sprat’s wife dismissed because she represents obese women? The little red hen accused of unfair management practices against unionized workers? Are we excusing adultery when we point out that the dish ran away with the spoon?
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LOL, Chaplain Mike. For my own part, I certainly understand and share your happy memories of a tree from your childhood. I had a pear tree that had branches just at a height for a five-year-old to climb. Oh, the beautiful sight and fragrance of that tree in the spring. I would sit nestled in it and look out over the wide green yard and feel like a queen in my lovely green and white kingdom.
But I don’t think we’re crazy for disagreeing with you about a story. I just think we’re coming from different places. You’re “identifying” with the boy; I’m identifying with the tree.
The tree isn’t God’s grace. God’s grace is not destroyed or diminished by giving it away to us. The tree is Mom — the old-fashioned Mom who “works her fingers to the bone” for her kids and never expects any return or thanks. For a child, of course, this is the perfect deal, and hence a lot of people are really pleased with this story. OTOH, some of us grew up with that kind of Mom, some of us became that kind of Mom, and some of us see the not-so-great aspects of utter self-abnegation.
Or maybe, as you say, some of us are just crazy. Love you anyway, and I love reading on this board.
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I love you too, Mike, but I’d rather not be dismissed as crazy. I think there are a lot of us who look at this story and see ourselves being told to give and give and give until there’s nothing left but a dead stump. I don’t think it’s crazy to hate that. Not when Jesus tells us he came to give us abundant life.
Your experience of the story is beautiful, and perfectly legitimate. But when this many people are saying “I hate this story,” I think that’s worth listening to.
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CM — I totally agree. Jane Yolen has written a book called “Touch Magic” that deals with exactly that topic — the grim meatiness of the original fairytales. Good stuff.
Anyone who enjoyed “The Giving Tree” would probably also like Oscar Wilde’s “The Happy Prince.” Very similar except it’s about a statue instead of a tree. Give it a try.
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You know what? I love all of you, but I think many of you are just plain crazy. I say that in love, of course. I never heard so much analysis put into a simple childrens story in my life! Is this the kind of deconstruction they’re teaching in Lit classes these days?
Bring back good old grisly fairy tales, I say!
Then we’d really have something to talk about.
Y’all need to develop some imagination.
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Think about where fences and walls are used to keep people in: prisons, the former iron curtain, etc.
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Great insight! When the father in the parable received his son, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t leave again. He wasn’t chained up or locked in his room; no condition was placed on his reception (you can come home if you promise never to do this again). He wasn’t sent to military school or a “scared straight” camp. There are no locks on the gates of heaven to keep anyone in. It really is hard to understand from a human perspective.
(Actually, the prodical wished to be treated as a slave, but the father would have none of it.)
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I’d always felt uncomfortable with that book, but didn’t know why. I thought maybe it pointed to my own selfishness that I was uncomfortable with it. Now I think my instincts were good.
When I was in seminary, in my Christian Ed class, we read an article that clarified my feelings for me. When I saw this post I rummaged in the basement to find the reader. In “Caretakers of our Common House” by Carol Lakey Hess, she suggests that “A representation of sin as self-assertion, self-centeredness and pride speak out of and to the experience of powerful men…Women are better indicted for such things as lack of self, self-abnegation, and irresponsibility. When sin as pride is generalized,self-abnegation is rendered a virtue and harmfully reinforced.”
She puts this in relation to The Giving Tree:
“Women are encouraged to keep looking for what it is they can give, rather than to challenge the very assumption that their giving is de facto beneficial (was the boy truly helped?) and their sole purpose in life….While the ‘sin’ of giving themselves away is not fully women’s own fault, and giving itself is not to be condemned, perpetual self-giving does not further the humanity of women and men in their lives together. If Silverstein’s parable is any indication, we end up with alienated, dissatisfied men and lonely, diminished women…Giving up oneself–sometimes even in service to another–can be an act of sin if it is passive, splits community into those who care and those who assert, and fails to hold other people accountable for their actions.”
There’s more (of course), but I’ll end with what a boy told her after hearing the giving tree:
“After being read the story once and asked at a later time if he wished to hear the story again, he promptly tossed the book aside and remarked, ‘No, I don’t like that story. The tree is ruined and that’s not a good thing.'”
I think just because something is a sacrifice doesn’t make it good. When Jesus sacrifices himself, he is not ruined, but resurrected. At the end of the story there’s nothing either for the boy or the tree. It really is an incredibly sad tale, and I have no problem with it if it is seen as such. It’s when it is seen as somehow uplifting that I have a problem.
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Some people might ‘hate’ the book, because the strong contrast in it reflects ‘something about themselves’ that they don’t want to see, or acknowledge. The book is like a parable: it holds up a mirror for many to see into their own lives, a little too clearly for comfort . . .
the book convicts our own ingratitude and self-centeredness. And our lack of selfless love.
To live ‘in Christ’, we are called to die to ‘self’ . . .not smugly point to the sins of others endlessly, as so many have gloried in doing, instead.
There seems no ‘justice’ in this book, for those who don’t understand that ‘selfless love’ does not judge, but is patient and kind, even in the face of ingratitude.
But still the boy comes back to the tree . . . again and again for help . . . and is not turned away, not even at the end of his journey. That the boy ‘comes back’ at the end says much, even though he knows that the tree has nothing more to give him . . . but a place to rest. Perhaps finally, that, in the end, is ‘enough’ for him.
The book tells a beautiful truth about the kind of love that is selfless.
but for those who can’t understand this, to paraphrase Augustine, ‘no explanation is possible’.
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I loathe this book. Not necessarily because the boy is any more selfish than anyone else.
But because the tree spends so much time sad, and alone. It breaks my heart.
I will never read this book to my precious son. Never.
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Max Lucado’s Children books are Good!
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I think you are on to something. Women probably see the book as a bad parenting model. spoiling the child & destroying the Mother w/o disipline.
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Interesting thread. I love the picture of scarificial giving, whether it’s a “GOD picture” or not. But it is very hard for me NOT to see selfishness in the boy, maybe that’s my hang up, maybe it isn’t. I wouldn’t rush to put this in the hands of someone I wanted to see love pictured.
GregR
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How deep and pure the waters of grace that flowed from Michael. I wish I had known him. This post moved me powerfully… I was loved by two giving trees as a child. One was the perfect climbing tree for my brothers and me; she gave us her sweet apricots during the hot summers in northern CA. The other was a weeping willow–Tarzan, whips and swords I remember well! Next time I go to Barnes & Noble, I am buying that book.
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Mick,
From a prodigal 3 1/2 years into being Home, you hit the preverbial nail on the head with that comment! My life wreaks of that truth! And oh how sweet it is!
There is a lyric in a Mumford and Sons song that I absolutely LOVE:
It’s not the long walk home that will change this heart,
But the welcome I receive at the restart
Can I get an amen?
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That’s my take on the book, too. Hate it; threw it at the wall. I suspect you’re right that more women than men can’t stand it.
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Interesting thought, H. Lee.
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Wow. I’ve never heard that story before. It’s interesting how different people have different reactions to it. I liked it; I found it quite moving.
Although I can see what looks like selfishness in the boy, I was more focused on the tree’s giving. I felt quite sad that the tree was about to expire.
My favourite kids’ story, which is overtly Biblical, is You are Special (the story of Punchinello and the Wemmicks) by Max Lucado. You can find it online; although I’m not sure whether the people who have published it on their sites have copyright permission! It is better with the illustrations, anyway.
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This is my first time commenting on this website, though I have been reading from it about everyday since I first discovered it a couple of months ago. I guess I am really shocked about how much people hate this book. there is such an attack on the boy in this story for being selfish. i dont think He is selfish. I think He is needed. Just like we are needed people. I dont know anything about the author of the story, or what his original reason for writing it was, but I dont think the author would write a children’s story to teach children how to be selfish brats and just keep taking and taking from people. I do see how this is a story about God’s grace. The tree kept giving of itself, it did not say “now boy, go out and find me some water, and till the ground around me, and do this and do that, and I will give you some apples” the verse that just popped is “We love because, He first loved us” the giving tree is titled giving tree because the tree loved the boy and kept giving out of love. wonder what that sounds like “for God so love the world that He gave his only begotten Son” I personally like the story, and loved this post about it.
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Unconditional grace can really get to people who think their works are more justifiable than others.
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Just anotherquick thought: Are most of the people here who love The Giving Tree guys? And the people who hate it, are most of them women? That would make a certain (grim) sort of sense.
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I think it’s an unfair stretch to assume that people who don’t like this book don’t like it because they have a problem with grace. I hate this book (and the Velveteen Rabbit) because it is too heartbreaking for me to bear. I don’t see the tree as a metaphor for God (and I don’t think it was meant to be one), I see the tree as a lonley, unloved, passive victim who desperately wanted love that he was never going to get. I’ll just never see why that kind of story is anything but tragic.
God is not a victim because He has unlimited resources from which to draw upon, so that when He gives and gives to us without getting anything in return, He is not diminished…the rest of us are not like this.
The other reason I don’t like it just has to do with my own personal issues. As a child, I was always overwhelmed with guilt if I played with one stuffed animal more than the other…even though I knew they weren’t real, I couldn’t get past the fear that I would hurt their feelings or make them feel unloved. I hate stories like this because it reinforced that fear in me, and I know there are other children out there who also suffer from an unreasonable burden of empathy.
Trust me, it’s not about grace. I like grace, I really like it. But there’s only so much I can take when it comes to feeling the emotional pain of others, even when that other is an imaginary tree.
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OK, since I’ve seen a few people posting how much they hate that book (The Giving Tree), I’ll take my courage in hand and admit that I do too. Maybe I’m just not “spiritual” enough, but the tale of a living creature (the tree) being stripped, diminished, and finally consumed by another creature (the boy) — and then having the tree *glad* about it! Aaaarrrgh! Horrible. And I’m not the first one to have this reaction — when my sister read this book, she ended by flinging it across the room!
But here are a lot of people really loving it! So there must be a good deal more to it than I am seeing.
Probably ones view of a book is heavily influenced by ones own life experiences and relationships. In that case, certainly, there’s no point in arguing about it.
But I really do hate it!
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Sometimes prodigals make the journey back home without ever knowing they are returning – until they arrive and are welcomed home .
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I am sitting here stunned at the haters of this book… Blowing (holy) kisses at C.M. as tears of gratitude fill my eyes for the ‘fourth side”… having lived so many years on the backside of regret, guilt… Coming back to life is the way grace has saved me. Thanks people of grace for having words to write what I need to hear. Bless you dumb ox.
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Clarification: My above comment is in response to,
“Even as a grown man with children and grandchildren of my own, I think of that tree. I long to see her again, to climb and swing and feel her embrace. And when I read this book to my little ones, I rejoice to know that there is One who gives and gives and gives, who for some mysterious reason has bound up his own happiness with ours.”
Thanks for sharing.
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Amen, Brother
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There may be a fourth side, which I think Christians need to take seriously: the story of grace may be received by those struggling with depression with guilt and regret (it’s all my fault).
I think the answer to this is found in the “trots” – the “in spite of” – perspective of grace: grace is hope in spite of hopelessness; acceptance in spite of alienation; being in spite of the forces of non-being.
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katdish, to be clear, I don’t think Mr. Silverstein had any intention of writing this story about God’s relationship with man. This is not an allegory, not a Christian perspective, not a moral or religious tale at all.
It is a story, plain and simple. A story of grace and growing up. A story of gifts generously given out of love and given through self-sacrifice. A story of growing up and growing old and finding that love is there at every stage. A story to be felt and imagined, as all children’s stories are.
As a gift of common grace, I accept such stories and delight in being able to see God’s love and grace in them.
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Argh. I think this is a great way of defining the great divide in the way people view grace:
One side views grace as a co-dependent sort of enabling of habitually bad behavior: the dependent keeps taking and abusing, and the enabler keeps on giving and giving, rather than telling the dependent to grow up. (If you can catch the American Experience episode on the life of Dolly Madison, this seems to be the relationship she had with her son).
The other side sees ourselves as forever dependent upon God grace, that even the most self-righteous is dependent daily on God’s love and forgiveness. Sunday after Sunday we go to the altar with our confession of sins, and Christ is there in there in the Eucharist offering us forgiveness, strength, and life..
Perhaps there is a third view: those who need no grace, who are perfectly self sufficient, or, like Peter at the table, who is unwilling for Christ to wash his feet. They are going to earn their way to heaven, because anything less would be a sign of weakness or burden upon God. There are many pious ways of wrapping this: call it “Minnesota Nice” spirituality.
I agree that it is a deep story with many angles. Stories like the “Giving Tree” or the “Velveteen Rabbit” are not Christian allegories, but they can help us understand the Incarnation. A good follow-up will be the up-coming series on the Stations of the Cross. This meditation helps us understand that it is our actions which sent Jesus to the cross, that we would have been lost had he not.
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I don’t know whether Mr. Silverstein wrote the book as an allegory for God’s relationship with man. He is often described as a “Jewish-American” poet and writer. I’ve never seen him described as a Christian, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t. I don’t know.
The tree in my version was certainly not representative of God. Far from it. It was exactly what the title suggested–a version of the book I would have liked to read. I believe our society is based on being rewarded based on our performance. What I believe about God is very different. I believe we are sinners saved by grace. Period.
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I don’t know why one hates the story. We are that boy whether we like it or not. Without the tree or Jesus we are doomed. Maybe that’s why you don’t like the story, you can’t win on your own.
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That is beautiful. Thank you, Chaplain Mike.
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@katdish:
I think your version of the story is exactly the kind of religion this site has been devoted to countering. We all have a natural bent toward performing and being rewarded based on our performance. We think God will react to us the way your tree does in your version. I hope and pray God is more like Silverstein’s version because I know who and what I am.
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I love this book. It’s a powerful story that in many ways reflects God’s selfless love for us. I see much of myself in the boy; less than I’d like to in the tree.
I think those who want there to be some reciprocity may be asking to much of the story and the author, as well as misunderstanding the nature of gift. The latter is something I’ve noticed an increase of in my experience over the last several years. Fewer people than ever seem to understand that to truly give is, or at least ought to be, to forego any expectation of return or demands regarding behavior or response. That may be why the book is at once so beautiful and so evocative of a variety of responses. I still love it.
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Wow. I respect your opinions, I guess. But are you serious? I never once thought of the little boy as selfish. Not once. I saw his leaving and his needs and dreams as representative of our growth from childhood to adulthood, nothing more and nothing less. The fact that the tree gave of herself was portrayed in the only way possible. She gave of herself.
Amazing. I have always felt that one should read and accept stories like this in the spirit in which they are written. There’s a time to be “an adult” and interpret things with realism, and a time to let your imagination fly.
Please.
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I hate hate hate this book as well.
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I suppose I see the relationship between a loving and giving God, but I just despise The Giving Tree. My daughter brought it home from school one day and asked me to read it to her. I’d heard of it, but had never read it. As I was reading it, I became more and more appalled by that selfish little boy. I wasn’t too crazy about the enabling tree, either. Towards the end of the book, I asked my daughter, “I hope you don’t think it’s okay to treat anyone the way that boys treats that tree.” I suppose it was good that I read it to her. It provided a great lesson on how NOT to treat others.
I once mentioned in passing how much I disliked that book on my blog, and the floodgates opened in the comments section, each commenter sharing why they hated that book so much. I decided to write my own version of the story. I know I’ll never convince a die hard lover of The Giving Tree to change their mind, but in case you’re interested, here’s the link: http://katdish.net/2010/02/the-giving-tree-id-like-to-read-2/
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That is the mark of a good story. It evokes many connections and universal truths.
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You ‘get it’.
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“And when I read this book to my little ones, I rejoice to know that there is One who gives and gives and gives, who for some mysterious reason has bound up his own happiness with ours.”
C.M. Your pleasure just reeks of holiness, love, holiness…
Milton are you serious? If so. Talk about missing the point!
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The boy is us. Every single one of us. And still God gives.
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the tree always had what he needed no matter where he was in life. (the kid was a brat!)
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I love this story as well! – but it is hard to understand.
I’ve heard it discussed as:
1.)- God sacrificial love.
2.)-An environmental tale.
3.)-a destructive relationship.
4.)-bad parenting
the story is definitely deep!
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But the tree LOVED the boy, in spite of all . . .
maybe that is the lesson we can take from here.
Do we take our gifts of life and food and all that we have for granted?
So many times, we do.
And then something serendipitously ‘providential’ happens. Something that lets us ‘know’ in some way beyond all reason, that we are loved and cared for.
The TREE ‘changed’ . . . but still loved.
The lesson for us in the great generosity of God: Hlooked out on us with a great love from His ‘lonely wooden tower’ long ago, a tower that was surely hewn from a real ‘giving tree’.
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I like your post, though.
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I hate that story. The boy is selfish and never learns a thing.
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awesome.
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