I see the above scene through the window from the desk where I often write. Though I originally wrote the following about the Miracle Pine Tree in Rikuzentakata in northern Japan, the TOKYO SKYTREE also carries similar symbolism in many ways. Every time I drive home from giving a concert, I see the SKYTREE from far off in the distance, especially at night when it is lit up as the brightest structure around. It makes me happy, because I know that I will soon be home.
There is much symbolism in the structure. The height of 634 meters (6-3-4) can be read as "Mu-sa-shi," an old name for that part of Tokyo. The color "Japanese indigo" or "Japan blue" comes from a plant native to the Shikoku Region of Japan. Japan blue was the most prevalent color of dyed cotton during the Edo Period (1603–1868 AD), when silk and brighter colors were reserved for the higher classes. It was esteemed both for its color and its antibacterial and insect-repelling properties.
I looked up at the tree. It was almost 100 feet tall. It grew here in the city of Rikuzentakata as part of a forest of 70,000 pine trees for hundreds of years. The trees protected the people from storms and strong coastal winds and were once chosen as one of the 100 most beautiful landscapes in Japan. But now they were all gone, all except for this one.
“The tsunami sure ruined this land . . . and my shoes as well,” Luka said, looking down. She was one of the musicians who came with me on this trip.
To get to the tree, we had to slog through an hour’s worth of mud from the nearest working road, following the river. The landscape was nothing but mud as far as the eye could see. Every tree and road were gone. Every wooden building was washed away. Every concrete structure was destroyed. The tsunami demolished them all.
I looked up at the tree again. In the entire grove of 70,000 trees and in every park and neighborhood, only one tree was left standing, the Kiseki No Ipponmatsu, the “miracle” pine tree. Despite the incredible force of that wave, this tree somehow still stood!
I saw the tree again a few years later. Another group of musicians and I were traveling the newly constructed highway along the coast, passing through from one concert to another. Even though it was night, we could see the tree from the farthest outskirts of the city, its presence impossible to miss as it was lit up by spotlights.
We stopped the car. A beautiful park now surrounded the tree with flowers, benches, signs, and a wide concrete path completely devoid of mud.1 The original tree died due to salt left in the soil from the tsunami, but an almost exact replica stands in its place. It glowed as a magnificent symbol of resilience, courage, and hope against the darkness of the night sky.
Standing there by the river and ocean, I began to think about the most famous of all trees, the tree that stands by the river in the city of heaven. I wonder what that tree is like. Is it taller than this pine? Can it be seen even from the farthest outskirts of the city? Does it glow in the eternal light given by God? The Bible says,
"On each side of the river stood the tree of life . . . and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations. No longer will there be any curse. . . . There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light." (Revelation 22:2–3, 5)
I also thought about the cross. Roman soldiers regularly used pine trees for crucifixions, so the cross of Jesus was most likely made of pine.
"He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed." (1 Peter 2:24)
Both trees bring us healing. The tree of life wipes away the curse of death, and the tree of the cross, planted on that ugly skull-shaped hill in Jerusalem, protects us from the storms of this world. It rises out of the mud and muck of our sin as a beacon of light and hope.
The tree of hope reminds us that God is always near, even in the midst of our devastation. It will always stand towering over a broken and desolate world as the source of all healing and life.
Excerpt from "Aroma of Beauty in the wake of the 2011 tsunami in Japan" by Roger W. Lowther