Looking at the bees and the trees | Clergy Corner
By DANIEL WYSONG | Saint John's United Church of Christ
February 27, 2021 at 3:44 a.m.
As I was driving north out of town on I-5 last week I looked west and almost thought the Dunnigan Hills were covered with snow. It was almond blossoms.
The almond blossoms here in California are the largest bloom event on earth. Their beauty is astounding. The harvest they produce accounts for 80% of the world’s almond production.
And interspersed every hundred yards among the blooming trees are the boxes. Filled with hardworking bees — pollinating the almond flowers as they move from tree to tree. If the bees don’t fertilize a flower, it doesn’t turn into an almond.
One of the psychological quirks of our modern western world is that we tend to think of the world being made up of distinct and separate things.
But how separate are the trees and the bees? They depend on each other for life. They are part of a single inseparable system.
If the bees are killed by insecticides, there will be no almond harvest.
To truly care for the trees means also caring for the bees, and to care for the bees means caring about the trees they will be pollinating.
Genesis 1 tells a beautiful story of the entire world being just such an indissoluble system. That we care for the earth as the earth cares for us. We are not separate.
Genesis 4 tells of Cain killing his brother, Abel. It is the first act of violence recorded in scripture. The story is told with God asking Cain a question: “Where is your brother?” And then Cain asking God a question: “Am I my brother’s keeper?”
The question resounds.
It is one we would do well to ask ourselves, as well. Do we see ourselves as separate, independent, distinct humans who aren’t ultimately connected to the world or the others humans we share it with?
Or do we see ourselves as being part of something much bigger?
I believe seeing ourselves as separate from the earth, from God, and from each other always leads to violence. History repeats itself over and over, with Abel’s blood still crying out from the ground.
But there is another path. An older one and better.
We can recognize that just like the bees and the trees, we also are part of one another. We, too, can learn the wisdom that in caring for our brothers and sisters, our community, our planet — we are truly caring for ourselves.
By DANIEL WYSONG | Saint John's United Church of Christ
February 27, 2021 at 3:44 a.m.
As I was driving north out of town on I-5 last week I looked west and almost thought the Dunnigan Hills were covered with snow. It was almond blossoms.
The almond blossoms here in California are the largest bloom event on earth. Their beauty is astounding. The harvest they produce accounts for 80% of the world’s almond production.
And interspersed every hundred yards among the blooming trees are the boxes. Filled with hardworking bees — pollinating the almond flowers as they move from tree to tree. If the bees don’t fertilize a flower, it doesn’t turn into an almond.
One of the psychological quirks of our modern western world is that we tend to think of the world being made up of distinct and separate things.
But how separate are the trees and the bees? They depend on each other for life. They are part of a single inseparable system.
If the bees are killed by insecticides, there will be no almond harvest.
To truly care for the trees means also caring for the bees, and to care for the bees means caring about the trees they will be pollinating.
Genesis 1 tells a beautiful story of the entire world being just such an indissoluble system. That we care for the earth as the earth cares for us. We are not separate.
Genesis 4 tells of Cain killing his brother, Abel. It is the first act of violence recorded in scripture. The story is told with God asking Cain a question: “Where is your brother?” And then Cain asking God a question: “Am I my brother’s keeper?”
The question resounds.
It is one we would do well to ask ourselves, as well. Do we see ourselves as separate, independent, distinct humans who aren’t ultimately connected to the world or the others humans we share it with?
Or do we see ourselves as being part of something much bigger?
I believe seeing ourselves as separate from the earth, from God, and from each other always leads to violence. History repeats itself over and over, with Abel’s blood still crying out from the ground.
But there is another path. An older one and better.
We can recognize that just like the bees and the trees, we also are part of one another. We, too, can learn the wisdom that in caring for our brothers and sisters, our community, our planet — we are truly caring for ourselves.
On Loyalty - Your Loyalty is Lacking
Published in the Daily Democrat on December 5, 2020
by Pastor Daniel Wysong
I’ve been thinking about loyalty lately.
Loyalty is usually defined as giving or showing consistent support and allegiance to a
person or institution. When we talk about loyalty, we are usually talking about being
loyal to a friend, a leader, a country, a religion, a company, or a brand. In other words,
when we think about loyalty, we tend to think about loyalty as somewhat of a one-way
street. One person is loyal to something or someone else.
I recently read Jonathan Haidt’s book: The Righteous Mind - Why Good People are
Divided over Politics and Religion. It’s one of the best books I’ve ever read. In it, Haidt
lays out six different centers of morality that different people use in determining right
and wrong: care/harm; fairness/cheating; freedom/oppression; loyalty/betrayal,
authority/subversion, and sanctity/degradation. He posits that loyalty is one of the core
human virtues we use to make decisions. Haidt puts forward research showing that
liberals tend to more heavily use the first three, conservatives tend to use all six
somewhat equally, and libertarians almost exclusively use the freedom/oppression
value.
Conservatives tend to think about loyalty in terms of being loyal to one’s country, one’s
religion, one’s corporation, or one’s family. Liberals tend to view loyalty with suspicion,
noticing how often harm can be done to someone in an out group in the name of loyal
service to the in group. Conservatives sometimes view liberals as moral failures for a
lack of loyalty to leaders, institutions, or symbols.
But I believe all of us, conservatives and liberals, tend to think about loyalty wrong.
I’ve noticed how leaders often demand loyalty from their subordinates, but rarely show it
in return. Corporations can demand loyalty from their employees, but rarely reciprocate
by placing their employees’ best interests as an equal value to making a profit. Dictators
always demand absolute loyalty from their lieutenants and citizens while never showing
any loyalty, gratitude, or forbearance in return. Throughout history, horrible atrocities
have been carried out in the name of loyalty to a leader, a country, or a god.
This kind of loyalty is a bit hollow, and sometimes destructive. It is never sustainable.
But what if the problem isn’t with loyalty, but simply our concept of what it means to be
loyal?
What if, instead of the unidirectional view of loyalty - where it is one way-we changed
our perspective? What if loyalty was meant to be much bigger - and much more
reciprocal?
What if we do indeed owe consistent support and allegiance not just to our family,
church, employer, or nation - but to everyone? What if the story of humanity is
discovering that we do better when we are unwilling to betray anyone, whether a friend
or a foe?
As 2020 has shown, we as human beings are intricately connected, from Wuhan to
Woodland. Our individual choices don’t just affect us, but have a huge impact on the
other human beings we share this world with.
We owe so much to so many: from the food we eat to the medications we take to the
transportation we use to get around to the technology we use to communicate to
our very existence. All of us need each other. All of us are connected.
I think loyalty could be one of the most important moral virtues we orient our lives,
corporations, and societies around - but it only works if it is mutual. Imagine what our
economy might be like if corporations were as loyal to their employees as they want
their employees to be for them. Imagine if political leaders were willing to give their lives
in service and subordinate their interests for the sake of those they lead.
I believe loyalty to a leader or organization or nation or religion is too small. What if our
loyalty was to not just a leader, but to each other? What if our loyalty wasn’t just to
symbols, but to reality? What if we weren’t loyal to a flag, but to every single human that
flag represents? What if our loyalty wasn’t just to our racial, political, or national tribe,
but to all people everywhere? What if we saw ourselves with a moral obligation to show
consistent support and allegiance to everyone? What if we went even further and were
loyal to our planet - caring for the place that has provided so much for us?
I believe big loyalty could light the way to a more beautiful world for us all.
Jesus Used Love as His Ethic; So Should We
Published in the Daily Democrat on January 11, 2020
By Bill Schroeder, Pastor Emeritus
As I write, my thoughts centered around two events.
One is a cartoon showing the Nativity scene with the caption, “The World Needs a Stable Relationship.”
The second was the opportunity to see the film, “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood,” a story of Mr. Rogers television program. Our two children grew up watching Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers Neighborhood religiously so I thought it was primarily a children’s film.
How wrong I was. Although this film can be helpful to children, it is really a film for adults.
It is a film dealing with feelings about marriage, relationships, separations, trust, betrayal, death, anger, reconciliation, caring and love. Pretty heavy, but done in a caring, life-giving way, and well worth seeing should it come back to the local theater or get the DVD when it is released. [I get no commission!]
Our world is filled with anger and separations. Feelings are strong and tender. A day does not go by when we hear or read of hatred in many neighborhoods, toward many people. It’s not just the killing or fighting, but just plain anger, road rage, or families dealing harshly with one another. The world just struggles to love one another. Democrats despise Republicans and vice versa, Muslims are terrorists, and Mexicans are murderers. The rich despise the poor. The prisoner is forgotten. The stranger, alien and immigrant are walled away.
As disciples of Jesus, we recognize him as the incarnation of a God we know as love. Jesus used love as his ethic, a love that recognized God in every human he encountered. He saw dignity and worth in the stranger, the orphan, the widow, the leper, the prisoner, the poor, the tax collector, the sinner, the enemy.
Yes, the world needs a ‘stable’ relationship and the thrust of the movie is Mr. Rogers asking everyone to ‘a little kinder’, less hostile, more caring and loving. I believe we become the expression of the God we worship, whatever our faith is, by loving one another and simply being kind. If we do that, it will indeed be a beautiful neighborhood.
Nostalgia Sets in as We Prepare for Christmas
Published in the Daily Democrat on December 14, 2019
By Bill Schroeder, Pastor Emeritus
Here in the middle of the Advent season, a time of preparation for Christmas, nostalgia begins to settle in.
Like a child, my thoughts rush ahead to Christmas, particularly Christmas Eve. Growing up in the Midwest, it meant being a cold, clear night, the stars dazzling close to the earth in all of their silent glory. A large, soft snowflake would make the scene perfect. And of course, Christmas Eve is about the Star of Bethlehem and the heavenly hosts of angels singing, “Peace on earth, goodwill to all…”
And there is no doubt, the stars dazzle us and humble us.
In response to the angelic chorus and the angel announcement, the simple, rustic shepherds said, “Let us go into Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened,” and they did.
It was there they experienced mystery and wonder. Returning to their fields, they were “glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen.”
It was in that manger scene that the shepherds experienced hope for a new world and saw love personified. And the angel says, “I bring good news of great joy to ALL people.” It is the news of a love that never gives up…. news of a love that transforms our inner selves that causes a generous outpouring of love and talent and caring to those in need.
We open the door wide on our inner galaxy where mystery awaits, hope beckons, and love floods our whole being. It is a love for God and for one another. So in this Advent season we think of that beautiful prayer of Phillips Brook, made into song: “O Holy child of Bethlehem, descend to us we pray. Cast out our sin and enter in, be born in us today. We hear the Christmas angels, the great glad tidings tell; O come to us, abide with us, our Lord, Emmanuel.”
Singing the Lord's Praises in this Strange Land
Published in the Daily Democrat on September 14, 2019
By Bill Schroeder, Pastor Emeritus
On Wednesday, the 11th, we paused to remember and mourn the tragic loss of life in New York City, when two commandeered airliners were flown into the twin towers; and then the subsequent horrific crash of another plane into the Pentagon. Moments later, the news came to us of a fourth plane crashing into a field in Pennsylvania.
It is a day many of us will never forget. The grief, the shock, the absolute numbness that gripped our souls as we watched the collapse of the twin towers taking with them thousands of lives. There were moms and dads, children, brothers and sisters, and people not only from America, but from many other foreign lands, as well.
We should never forget the hundreds of brave firemen, policemen, emergency workers, and volunteers who also lost their lives. And when we think of heroes, we are reminded of the unselfish actions of the passengers and crew of flight 93, the men who rushed the terrorists, forcing the plane down in a field, rather than allowing it to reach its target. Only heaven knows how many lives were saved by their act of bravery.
As I remember that day, I am reminded of the question of the Psalmist who asked, “How can we sing the Lord’s song in this strange land?” And about the same time the unknown author of Deutero Isaiah shares his experience in exile and talks about Israel’s darkest hour, only he sees a vision of a new Jerusalem, a community redeemed and restored to be an instrument of God’s redeeming purpose.
I believe God is still speaking today. God calls us out of our desolation to new heights of joy, empowered not by the spirit of fear or revenge, but a spirit of love and to rekindle a community that has been given to us in faith. It calls us to build bridges for new lives together in a ‘blessed’ community of divergent faiths.
My hope for God’s community is the shared life together as we celebrate in events like the Peace Picnic which is being held at Fern’s Park next Saturday. It is an invitation from the Moslem community to all of us to build friendships and create lives across cultural barriers that have been removed. It is a spirit of love to celebrate diverse faiths, provide learning opportunities, build bridges of hope, and an understanding of the inherent value of all persons and faith communities.
Let us never give up on hope. Let us never give up on love. Let us never give up on each other. Let us never let go of our faith, here and now.
I also offer the invitation to attend the Peace Picnic at Ferns Park, next Saturday, 21. 11:30 to 3:00. The lunch is prepared by a Pakistani restaurant and all are invited as it is hosted by the Woodland Mosque and Islamic Community Center and the Woodland Ecumenical Multi-faith Ministries.
Published in the Daily Democrat on December 5, 2020
by Pastor Daniel Wysong
I’ve been thinking about loyalty lately.
Loyalty is usually defined as giving or showing consistent support and allegiance to a
person or institution. When we talk about loyalty, we are usually talking about being
loyal to a friend, a leader, a country, a religion, a company, or a brand. In other words,
when we think about loyalty, we tend to think about loyalty as somewhat of a one-way
street. One person is loyal to something or someone else.
I recently read Jonathan Haidt’s book: The Righteous Mind - Why Good People are
Divided over Politics and Religion. It’s one of the best books I’ve ever read. In it, Haidt
lays out six different centers of morality that different people use in determining right
and wrong: care/harm; fairness/cheating; freedom/oppression; loyalty/betrayal,
authority/subversion, and sanctity/degradation. He posits that loyalty is one of the core
human virtues we use to make decisions. Haidt puts forward research showing that
liberals tend to more heavily use the first three, conservatives tend to use all six
somewhat equally, and libertarians almost exclusively use the freedom/oppression
value.
Conservatives tend to think about loyalty in terms of being loyal to one’s country, one’s
religion, one’s corporation, or one’s family. Liberals tend to view loyalty with suspicion,
noticing how often harm can be done to someone in an out group in the name of loyal
service to the in group. Conservatives sometimes view liberals as moral failures for a
lack of loyalty to leaders, institutions, or symbols.
But I believe all of us, conservatives and liberals, tend to think about loyalty wrong.
I’ve noticed how leaders often demand loyalty from their subordinates, but rarely show it
in return. Corporations can demand loyalty from their employees, but rarely reciprocate
by placing their employees’ best interests as an equal value to making a profit. Dictators
always demand absolute loyalty from their lieutenants and citizens while never showing
any loyalty, gratitude, or forbearance in return. Throughout history, horrible atrocities
have been carried out in the name of loyalty to a leader, a country, or a god.
This kind of loyalty is a bit hollow, and sometimes destructive. It is never sustainable.
But what if the problem isn’t with loyalty, but simply our concept of what it means to be
loyal?
What if, instead of the unidirectional view of loyalty - where it is one way-we changed
our perspective? What if loyalty was meant to be much bigger - and much more
reciprocal?
What if we do indeed owe consistent support and allegiance not just to our family,
church, employer, or nation - but to everyone? What if the story of humanity is
discovering that we do better when we are unwilling to betray anyone, whether a friend
or a foe?
As 2020 has shown, we as human beings are intricately connected, from Wuhan to
Woodland. Our individual choices don’t just affect us, but have a huge impact on the
other human beings we share this world with.
We owe so much to so many: from the food we eat to the medications we take to the
transportation we use to get around to the technology we use to communicate to
our very existence. All of us need each other. All of us are connected.
I think loyalty could be one of the most important moral virtues we orient our lives,
corporations, and societies around - but it only works if it is mutual. Imagine what our
economy might be like if corporations were as loyal to their employees as they want
their employees to be for them. Imagine if political leaders were willing to give their lives
in service and subordinate their interests for the sake of those they lead.
I believe loyalty to a leader or organization or nation or religion is too small. What if our
loyalty was to not just a leader, but to each other? What if our loyalty wasn’t just to
symbols, but to reality? What if we weren’t loyal to a flag, but to every single human that
flag represents? What if our loyalty wasn’t just to our racial, political, or national tribe,
but to all people everywhere? What if we saw ourselves with a moral obligation to show
consistent support and allegiance to everyone? What if we went even further and were
loyal to our planet - caring for the place that has provided so much for us?
I believe big loyalty could light the way to a more beautiful world for us all.
Jesus Used Love as His Ethic; So Should We
Published in the Daily Democrat on January 11, 2020
By Bill Schroeder, Pastor Emeritus
As I write, my thoughts centered around two events.
One is a cartoon showing the Nativity scene with the caption, “The World Needs a Stable Relationship.”
The second was the opportunity to see the film, “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood,” a story of Mr. Rogers television program. Our two children grew up watching Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers Neighborhood religiously so I thought it was primarily a children’s film.
How wrong I was. Although this film can be helpful to children, it is really a film for adults.
It is a film dealing with feelings about marriage, relationships, separations, trust, betrayal, death, anger, reconciliation, caring and love. Pretty heavy, but done in a caring, life-giving way, and well worth seeing should it come back to the local theater or get the DVD when it is released. [I get no commission!]
Our world is filled with anger and separations. Feelings are strong and tender. A day does not go by when we hear or read of hatred in many neighborhoods, toward many people. It’s not just the killing or fighting, but just plain anger, road rage, or families dealing harshly with one another. The world just struggles to love one another. Democrats despise Republicans and vice versa, Muslims are terrorists, and Mexicans are murderers. The rich despise the poor. The prisoner is forgotten. The stranger, alien and immigrant are walled away.
As disciples of Jesus, we recognize him as the incarnation of a God we know as love. Jesus used love as his ethic, a love that recognized God in every human he encountered. He saw dignity and worth in the stranger, the orphan, the widow, the leper, the prisoner, the poor, the tax collector, the sinner, the enemy.
Yes, the world needs a ‘stable’ relationship and the thrust of the movie is Mr. Rogers asking everyone to ‘a little kinder’, less hostile, more caring and loving. I believe we become the expression of the God we worship, whatever our faith is, by loving one another and simply being kind. If we do that, it will indeed be a beautiful neighborhood.
Nostalgia Sets in as We Prepare for Christmas
Published in the Daily Democrat on December 14, 2019
By Bill Schroeder, Pastor Emeritus
Here in the middle of the Advent season, a time of preparation for Christmas, nostalgia begins to settle in.
Like a child, my thoughts rush ahead to Christmas, particularly Christmas Eve. Growing up in the Midwest, it meant being a cold, clear night, the stars dazzling close to the earth in all of their silent glory. A large, soft snowflake would make the scene perfect. And of course, Christmas Eve is about the Star of Bethlehem and the heavenly hosts of angels singing, “Peace on earth, goodwill to all…”
And there is no doubt, the stars dazzle us and humble us.
In response to the angelic chorus and the angel announcement, the simple, rustic shepherds said, “Let us go into Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened,” and they did.
It was there they experienced mystery and wonder. Returning to their fields, they were “glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen.”
It was in that manger scene that the shepherds experienced hope for a new world and saw love personified. And the angel says, “I bring good news of great joy to ALL people.” It is the news of a love that never gives up…. news of a love that transforms our inner selves that causes a generous outpouring of love and talent and caring to those in need.
We open the door wide on our inner galaxy where mystery awaits, hope beckons, and love floods our whole being. It is a love for God and for one another. So in this Advent season we think of that beautiful prayer of Phillips Brook, made into song: “O Holy child of Bethlehem, descend to us we pray. Cast out our sin and enter in, be born in us today. We hear the Christmas angels, the great glad tidings tell; O come to us, abide with us, our Lord, Emmanuel.”
Singing the Lord's Praises in this Strange Land
Published in the Daily Democrat on September 14, 2019
By Bill Schroeder, Pastor Emeritus
On Wednesday, the 11th, we paused to remember and mourn the tragic loss of life in New York City, when two commandeered airliners were flown into the twin towers; and then the subsequent horrific crash of another plane into the Pentagon. Moments later, the news came to us of a fourth plane crashing into a field in Pennsylvania.
It is a day many of us will never forget. The grief, the shock, the absolute numbness that gripped our souls as we watched the collapse of the twin towers taking with them thousands of lives. There were moms and dads, children, brothers and sisters, and people not only from America, but from many other foreign lands, as well.
We should never forget the hundreds of brave firemen, policemen, emergency workers, and volunteers who also lost their lives. And when we think of heroes, we are reminded of the unselfish actions of the passengers and crew of flight 93, the men who rushed the terrorists, forcing the plane down in a field, rather than allowing it to reach its target. Only heaven knows how many lives were saved by their act of bravery.
As I remember that day, I am reminded of the question of the Psalmist who asked, “How can we sing the Lord’s song in this strange land?” And about the same time the unknown author of Deutero Isaiah shares his experience in exile and talks about Israel’s darkest hour, only he sees a vision of a new Jerusalem, a community redeemed and restored to be an instrument of God’s redeeming purpose.
I believe God is still speaking today. God calls us out of our desolation to new heights of joy, empowered not by the spirit of fear or revenge, but a spirit of love and to rekindle a community that has been given to us in faith. It calls us to build bridges for new lives together in a ‘blessed’ community of divergent faiths.
My hope for God’s community is the shared life together as we celebrate in events like the Peace Picnic which is being held at Fern’s Park next Saturday. It is an invitation from the Moslem community to all of us to build friendships and create lives across cultural barriers that have been removed. It is a spirit of love to celebrate diverse faiths, provide learning opportunities, build bridges of hope, and an understanding of the inherent value of all persons and faith communities.
Let us never give up on hope. Let us never give up on love. Let us never give up on each other. Let us never let go of our faith, here and now.
I also offer the invitation to attend the Peace Picnic at Ferns Park, next Saturday, 21. 11:30 to 3:00. The lunch is prepared by a Pakistani restaurant and all are invited as it is hosted by the Woodland Mosque and Islamic Community Center and the Woodland Ecumenical Multi-faith Ministries.
Death and Resurrection
As submitted to the Daily Democrat for April 20, 2019
By Pastor Dan Wysong
Death
Watching the images of Notre Dame on fire this past week was surprisingly emotional for me. Of all the things to see and do in Paris, my favorite has always been to take my journal and spend a few hours inside the cathedral: writing, lost in thought, responding to the transcendence of the place. There is beauty everywhere: the soaring arches, the immense stone, the intricate stained glass, the paintings, the sound echoing through the space. Sometimes there were choirs singing. Sometimes the organ played. Other times I would just hear the tromp of tourists’ feet and the hushed conversations and exclamations of awe.
Notre Dame is old: the masons were laying those stone blocks in the 1100s. The oaks in the beams were likely saplings in the 8th-9th centuries. To inspire literally means to fill with spirit, and there are few, if any, human-created spaces that I found as inspiring as Notre Dame. To be present inside that towering sanctuary that has been a part of the history of millions of individual lives for centuries always gave me both an appropriate sense of my own smallness and a sense of my deep connectedness to everything else.
As I watched the flames, I couldn’t think of another building whose loss I would feel more intensely. And I also thought of our own house, consumed in the flames of the Camp Fire this past November. It dated from the 21st Century, not the 13th, but it did have a few relics, some pictures and paintings, and more than a few memories. With our house, the loss of home was much more acute than the loss of the building itself. Maybe it is the same with Notre Dame.
I served as a police chaplain embedded with the coroner teams in the days after the Camp Fire. We checked addresses for the people on the missing persons list, spending hours combing through ashes and looking under the charred remains of what used to be the places people called home. My team didn’t find any bodies, or even any conclusive evidence. None of us were exposed to any particularly horrific scenes. Which meant I was surprised at just how psychologically and spiritually destructive the fire was to myself and to the team. Each day, we would come down off the hill and I would feel a visceral weight in my stomach to go with the splitting headache from breathing the remains of the town. Driving back to Woodland each night, I would suddenly realize that I had no idea what point of the drive I was at or where I was.
The destruction of a home, a town, or a cathedral is both heavy and haunting. It leaves us disoriented and confused.
When we build things, we want to believe they will last forever. This is, of course, a delusion. Buildings and businesses, houses and churches, nations and religions - as much as we do not like to think about it, they are all temporary. And as much as we don’t like to think about it, so are we. Maybe this is why the loss of buildings that mean much to us is so difficult. They remind us that not only are we temporal, but that the things we create and invest ourselves in have a limited shelf life as well.
Resurrection
When the winter rains come to Northern California, it is only days until the new grass shoots are pushing through the ground. It usually takes many weeks for the small shoots to push past the dead grass from the previous year, beginning to turn the hillsides green.
This winter, where the fire burned, there was no dead grass. Three days after it rained, the black began to turn green. Within a couple weeks, the green had completely transcended the black, leaving nothing but life visible. Winter has turned into spring, and the oak trees are now pushing out their leaves - they are alive again. The wildflowers are uninhibited by the brush that has been burned off and are a riot of gratuitous beauty where the flames recently raged.
Below the cliffs, near where the Honeyrun Covered Bridge used to stand, there had been bands of thick poison oak along the base of the cliffs. But this year, there are bands of poppies and buttercups ringing each cliff face. The verdant green, punctuated with the oranges and yellows and blues is a beauty that moves me to the core of my soul - the more so because of the tragedy that has gone before.
Spring is the beauty of resurrection: of life after death. It is the reminder that even after deep loss and horrific destruction, that beauty can emerge from the ashes - and maybe even sometimes because of the ashes.
This is the beauty of Easter. This is the beauty of the resurrection: a deep remembrance and hope that spring always follows winter; that cathedrals, and homes, and towns can be reborn; that while tragedy shapes us, it is not the last word; that death itself is not the end, but will in turn give birth to life.
These losses have value. They remind us that while tragedy and death are real and unavoidable, and while our castles and cathedrals will fall - there is nothing more important or glorious we can do than let our hearts enter fully into the beauty of each day we are given - each place we find ourselves. Resurrection implies that in the end, life, love, and deep connectedness get the last word - and there is nothing more beautiful.
As submitted to the Daily Democrat for April 20, 2019
By Pastor Dan Wysong
Death
Watching the images of Notre Dame on fire this past week was surprisingly emotional for me. Of all the things to see and do in Paris, my favorite has always been to take my journal and spend a few hours inside the cathedral: writing, lost in thought, responding to the transcendence of the place. There is beauty everywhere: the soaring arches, the immense stone, the intricate stained glass, the paintings, the sound echoing through the space. Sometimes there were choirs singing. Sometimes the organ played. Other times I would just hear the tromp of tourists’ feet and the hushed conversations and exclamations of awe.
Notre Dame is old: the masons were laying those stone blocks in the 1100s. The oaks in the beams were likely saplings in the 8th-9th centuries. To inspire literally means to fill with spirit, and there are few, if any, human-created spaces that I found as inspiring as Notre Dame. To be present inside that towering sanctuary that has been a part of the history of millions of individual lives for centuries always gave me both an appropriate sense of my own smallness and a sense of my deep connectedness to everything else.
As I watched the flames, I couldn’t think of another building whose loss I would feel more intensely. And I also thought of our own house, consumed in the flames of the Camp Fire this past November. It dated from the 21st Century, not the 13th, but it did have a few relics, some pictures and paintings, and more than a few memories. With our house, the loss of home was much more acute than the loss of the building itself. Maybe it is the same with Notre Dame.
I served as a police chaplain embedded with the coroner teams in the days after the Camp Fire. We checked addresses for the people on the missing persons list, spending hours combing through ashes and looking under the charred remains of what used to be the places people called home. My team didn’t find any bodies, or even any conclusive evidence. None of us were exposed to any particularly horrific scenes. Which meant I was surprised at just how psychologically and spiritually destructive the fire was to myself and to the team. Each day, we would come down off the hill and I would feel a visceral weight in my stomach to go with the splitting headache from breathing the remains of the town. Driving back to Woodland each night, I would suddenly realize that I had no idea what point of the drive I was at or where I was.
The destruction of a home, a town, or a cathedral is both heavy and haunting. It leaves us disoriented and confused.
When we build things, we want to believe they will last forever. This is, of course, a delusion. Buildings and businesses, houses and churches, nations and religions - as much as we do not like to think about it, they are all temporary. And as much as we don’t like to think about it, so are we. Maybe this is why the loss of buildings that mean much to us is so difficult. They remind us that not only are we temporal, but that the things we create and invest ourselves in have a limited shelf life as well.
Resurrection
When the winter rains come to Northern California, it is only days until the new grass shoots are pushing through the ground. It usually takes many weeks for the small shoots to push past the dead grass from the previous year, beginning to turn the hillsides green.
This winter, where the fire burned, there was no dead grass. Three days after it rained, the black began to turn green. Within a couple weeks, the green had completely transcended the black, leaving nothing but life visible. Winter has turned into spring, and the oak trees are now pushing out their leaves - they are alive again. The wildflowers are uninhibited by the brush that has been burned off and are a riot of gratuitous beauty where the flames recently raged.
Below the cliffs, near where the Honeyrun Covered Bridge used to stand, there had been bands of thick poison oak along the base of the cliffs. But this year, there are bands of poppies and buttercups ringing each cliff face. The verdant green, punctuated with the oranges and yellows and blues is a beauty that moves me to the core of my soul - the more so because of the tragedy that has gone before.
Spring is the beauty of resurrection: of life after death. It is the reminder that even after deep loss and horrific destruction, that beauty can emerge from the ashes - and maybe even sometimes because of the ashes.
This is the beauty of Easter. This is the beauty of the resurrection: a deep remembrance and hope that spring always follows winter; that cathedrals, and homes, and towns can be reborn; that while tragedy shapes us, it is not the last word; that death itself is not the end, but will in turn give birth to life.
These losses have value. They remind us that while tragedy and death are real and unavoidable, and while our castles and cathedrals will fall - there is nothing more important or glorious we can do than let our hearts enter fully into the beauty of each day we are given - each place we find ourselves. Resurrection implies that in the end, life, love, and deep connectedness get the last word - and there is nothing more beautiful.
As submitted to the Democrat in January 2019
By Pastor Dan Wysong
"We need leaders not in love with money but in love with Justice. Not in love with publicity but in love with humanity."
- Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.
I've been pondering these words this week. They are what I believe our world needs now as much has when Dr. King delivered them in 1956.
In his speech, Dr. King confronted the competing narratives attempting to make sense of what was going on in the world at the time: was the world getting worse, or getting better? Was the suffering and conflict a sign of impending doom, or the birth pains of something new and beautiful?
Dr. King passionately argued for a new world being born, one that we are all invited into. But he also argued that this new and better world was not inevitable, but one that depended on us to bring it about. He gave three specifics, that I think are worth remembering and incorporating into our lives, dialogue, and politics in 2019 just as much as they were in 1956:
His first call was for us to "rise above the narrow confines of our individualistic concerns, with a broader concern for all humanity." We are each invited to see ourselves as a person that belongs - and to see each and every one of our fellow human beings as such. Dr. King invites us into belonging to each other, not just ourselves. He calls us to recognize that our primary citizenship isn't to our town, tribe, political party, or even nation, but rather to our shared humanity. We are all brothers and sisters. We are confronted with the heavy lift of changing our perspective to be one of deep connectedness to all of our fellow human beings.
We are each called to lead our own minds, to lead our families, our towns, our churches, our clubs, our political parties into this bigger and more profound reality: because the deep truth is that we are all connected and interdependent. We live together, and can do no other.
His second step was to do what we each do with excellence and integrity. Dr. King said, "Whatever you are doing consider it as something having cosmic significance, as it is a part of the uplifting of humanity. No matter what it is, no matter how small you think it is, do it right." As human beings, we each make a dramatic difference in the lives of the people around us. Anyone living in a family knows how true the axiom: if mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. We've got a sign on the wall of our living room that reads "choose happy." There are six of us in our family, and anyone choosing to bring a stinky attitude to the table changes the table for everyone else. Anyone bringing love, compassion, care, joy, or humor also changes the house for the rest of us. These choices matter, and even the baby has immense power over how our house feels to the rest of us.
Dr. King's third call was to leave bitterness behind. I don't think this point could be overstated. We will never live the kind of lives we desire to nor create the kind of world we each want to live in as long as we are holding on to past hurts and injuries. They are real. They happened. But forgiveness is the only path toward a better world. Otherwise, we construct our lives and world around the things we most hate instead of the things we most love. Unforgiveness is a horrible strategy.
We, as human beings, all live in the same big house. We are all part of the family. We all share the same planet. We all have immense power. And, as there has always been, there is today a deep need for humans who are in love with justice, humanity, and making this place just a bit better for each person who crosses their paths.
From wherever you are today, may you love well, live well, and lead well.