A Tale of Two Trees -Terrence Malick’s new film, The Tree of Life

In his essay “Christianity and Literature,” C. S. Lewis said “an author should never conceive himself as bringing into existence beauty or wisdom which did not exist before, but simply and solely as trying to embody in terms of his own art some reflection of eternal Beauty and Wisdom.” Terrence Malick’s new film, The Tree of Life, has been called a prayer and a magisterial symphony precisely because it accomplishes this task. It is art that masterfully reflects the eternal tale of two trees. There is a wide gate and a narrow gate (Matt. 7:13-14), light and darkness (John 1:5). Or as the film puts it, “There are two ways through life—the way of nature and the way of grace.”
Initially, the tree of nature appears vibrant, good for food, a delight to the eyes, and capable of making one wise (Gen. 3:6). We see a healthy tree with ripe, low-hanging fruit. Overwhelmed by desire for this fruit, we disregard the fence around the tree, steal the fruit, and eat. We have become addicted to something not meant for us and dedicate ourselves and everything around us to quenching that addiction. “Nature only wants to please itself. Get others to please it too. Likes to lord it over them. To have its own way. It finds reasons to be unhappy when all the world is shining around it.”
We become consumed with ourselves, our jobs, our homes, our reputations, and dedicate ourselves to the “fierce will it takes to get ahead in this world.” We labor, like the father in the film, to get the weeds out of our yard, but miss the glory of the birds singing, the breeze in the air, and the sun on our backs. We miss it all just to get one more taste of the fruit. In the end we “dishonor it all” and fail to “notice the glory all around.”
By contrast, the tree of grace at first glance appears to be a dead stump. We see a weak and run-down tree. “Grace doesn’t try to please itself. Accepts being slighted, forgotten, disliked. Accepts insults and injuries.” Instead of taking fruit off the tree we nailed the Lamb to it. But with the blood spilled on this tree a shoot comes forth from the root (Isa. 11:1), and branches are grafted in (Rom. 11:17).
In the same “Christianity and Literature” essay, Lewis writes, “Our whole destiny seems to lie . . . in being as little as possible ourselves, in acquiring a fragrance that is not our own but borrowed, in becoming clean mirrors filled with the image of a face that is not ours.” Only after being grafted to the stump do we acquire that fragrance.  Only then do our eyes see what is truly alive. Only then can we sing with never-ending joy the old hymn:

The tree of life, my soul hath seen
Laden with fruit and always green,
The trees of nature, fruitless be,
Compared with Christ the apple tree.

Jason Bohm