Liturgy is like a strong tree whose beauty is derived from the

Host: The room was peaceful, the light from the fireplace casting a soft glow on the walls. Jack sat by the window, his gaze focused on the quiet world outside, while Jeeny, across from him, sat with her legs tucked beneath her, a notebook in her lap, though her attention seemed to be on something deeper. The evening felt still, but there was a quiet anticipation, as if a thought was waiting to emerge.

Host: Pope Paul VI’s words filled the space: “Liturgy is like a strong tree whose beauty is derived from the continuous renewal of its leaves, but whose strength comes from the old trunk, with solid roots in the ground.” The simplicity of the metaphor, comparing liturgy to a tree with both vibrant renewal and stability, seemed to invite reflection not just on religious practice, but on the deeper relationship between tradition and change. Jack, always keen on examining the balance between the old and the new, was the first to speak.

Jack: His voice was thoughtful, almost as if he was seeing the metaphor unfold in his mind: “I love that comparison. The tree represents both continuity and change—just like liturgy, or really any tradition. The beauty and relevance of something come from its ability to renew itself, to remain vibrant and alive. But at the same time, that renewal is only possible because of its deep roots, its foundation in something solid. It’s a reminder that growth comes from both stability and the willingness to evolve.”

Jeeny: She nodded slowly, her voice gentle, filled with understanding: “Exactly. The roots and the trunk give the tree its strength, its foundation, while the leaves represent the life, the growth, and the renewal that keep it thriving. Liturgy, or any practice really, works the same way. We need the tradition, the deep-rooted foundation to stand firm, but we also need to allow for change, for new expressions, for renewal. Without both, there’s no strength and no beauty.”

Host: The conversation seemed to deepen, as if the metaphor of the tree had opened up a broader discussion about how tradition and renewal interact. The idea that the strength of liturgy, or any meaningful practice, comes from both its historical foundation and its ability to adapt to new contexts felt like an invitation to rethink how we approach tradition—whether in religion, culture, or personal life. Jack seemed to reflect more on this balance, his usual focus on practicality now shifted to a broader, more philosophical view.

Jack: His voice softened, almost revelatory, as he continued: “Maybe that’s the challenge with tradition—it can be easy to either cling too tightly to the old ways or to completely discard them in the name of progress. But real growth, the kind that lasts, comes from finding that balance—honoring the roots, while allowing for the leaves to change, to renew. It’s the combination of strength and flexibility that makes something truly lasting.”

Jeeny: She smiled gently, her voice calm, but full of insight: “Exactly. And it’s not just about keeping the old ways because they’re comfortable. It’s about recognizing their value, their ability to ground us, while also allowing the space for growth. When we try to live in a way that disregards either the foundation or the renewal, we lose both the strength of tradition and the vitality of change. It’s about respecting both the past and the future.”

Host: The room grew quieter, as if their words had unlocked a deeper truth about how we engage with the things that matter most—whether it’s liturgy, culture, or our personal practices. The balance between honoring the roots of tradition and embracing the renewal of change seemed to offer a path forward, one that didn’t require choosing between the two, but rather embracing both as integral parts of the same journey. Jack and Jeeny sat in that understanding, knowing that growth didn’t come from rejecting the past, but from building on it.

Jack: His voice was softer now, almost as if the realization had settled deeply within him: “Maybe that’s the real beauty of tradition—the way it allows us to both stand firm and to evolve. We don’t need to choose between the old and the new, between strength and change. We can find a way to honor both and create something that’s both timeless and alive.”

Jeeny: She nodded, her smile warm with reassurance: “Exactly. When we understand that tradition can live alongside renewal, we can create a future that’s built on the strength of the past, but also open to the possibilities of what’s yet to come.”

Host: The evening continued, the quiet world outside remaining still, while inside, Jack and Jeeny sat in the shared realization that the most profound practices in life—whether spiritual, cultural, or personal—are those that recognize the importance of both foundation and growth. Just like the tree, we need both roots and renewal to thrive, to find strength in the past and beauty in the future.