pandemic

Wisdom and Hope: Saving an Ancient Olive Tree and Each Other

In Cuglieri, a small town in western Sardinia, people have come together to save “the Patriarch,” their cherished olive tree ravaged by wildfires that engulfed the region in July. Estimated to be 1,800 – 2,000 years old, it has been a symbol of a way of life.

In a New York Times article,¹ Maria Franca Curcu, the councilor with responsibility for social policies and culture for the municipality, was quoted as saying “the Patriarch is our identity.” Saving him, she says, would be a message of hope to those who have lost so much in this fire. Farmers lost 90% of their olive trees and their livelihood. Of the 2,600 inhabitants, 1,000 were forced to evacuate.

What struck me about this story was the way people came together with hope of reviving the tree. A professor and director of the botanical garden at the University of Cagliari offered his expertise. Despite the 11-foot-wide trunk having burned for two days, efforts were being made to nurture what life remains deep within. The team cooled the soil and covered it with straw. They wrapped the trunk with jute tarps. A local plumber created an irrigation system to keep the soil moist and to deliver an organic fertilizer every 10 days. A construction company built a structure to do what the now non-existent crown of leaves would have done: provide shade.

The hope is not that the tree will return to its former glory, but that peripheral roots will rejuvenate, provide nutrients to the stump, and enable new shoots to appear in the fall. The result would be something new, growing from the original.

The plight of the Patriarch is a metaphor for our times: The status quo is no longer viable. The pandemic has exposed diseased parts of political and economic systems that should not be sustained. Inequalities that exist around the world are impossible to ignore. The gap between the ability of rich countries and poor ones to obtain vaccines is one example. In day-to-day life, Covid has affected how people shop, work (or not), gather, communicate, pray, and support one another. The murder of George Floyd pushed awareness of racial bigotry and police abuse beyond the tipping point. Effects of climate change are manifesting faster than expected, resulting in, among other things, an increase in severe weather and the scope and severity of wildfires like the one that burned through Cuglieri.

What is happening in the world calls for a response similar to that of those dealing with the aftermath of the wildfire: communal efforts and hope:

Listen to experts – follow scientists and those trained in dealing with trauma and growth.
Practice self-care – seek out what you need to heal.
Engage in service – care for those in your “village” or donate to groups equipped to respond when you can’t.
Be open to change – accept that the future will look different as we let go of old ways that don’t serve the common good.

For me, the story of the Patriarch highlighted the power of symbols. Seeing that tree gave many people hope, a sense of who they are and of well-being. I began to think about the symbols in my life that are a source of hope. I have scallop shells scattered around my house. I hadn’t thought of them as symbols of hope but of pilgrimage. However, people don’t pilgrimage without hope in the process. Now, when I see the shells, I will remember the Holy Presence that is both the call and the destination, and of the promise that God is with us.

What are your symbols of hope? What can you look at each day to remind you that you are not traveling in the world alone? That Goodness remains in the world. That in the end, Love prevails. Maybe photos of loved ones or of places where you felt Sacred Presence will stir hope in your heart. Perhaps a Cross or holy book. A candle. A painting. A poem or a prayer written out and posted on your refrigerator or sitting on your table.

Surround yourselves with symbols of hope. And like the villagers of Cuglieri, don’t expect what will rise from the suffering to look the same as what has been lost. If new shoots don’t grow from the old stump, the villagers may plant a young tree that will grow into a Patriarch for new generations. Like them, we are called to have faith in community. And in hope.

Sardinian Village Tries to Save an Ancient Tree Scorched by Fire

Photos: Mary van Balen

To Live Justly, To Love

Painting by Laurie VanBalen, Project Director and Producer of Columbus Crossing Borders Project

The Scripture readings for Sunday, November 25, and Pope Francis’s new encyclical, Fratelli Tutti, share major themes that speak to current global and national issues. The texts clearly place this call front and center: Love and care for our neighbors (that’s everyone) and the common good, and turn from “idols” that hinder us from doing so.

Exodus reminds us that the poor, marginalized, and vulnerable among us deserve special respect and care. This is not an option. This is not charity. It is justice required by a compassionate God. When they are mistreated, God hears their cries.

The pandemic has highlighted the inability of the global community to work together to address the crisis. It has revealed failures and fissures in this country’s polices, institutions, and lack of will when it comes to justice and providing for those living on the edges.

Pope Francis introduces the social encyclical’s first chapter, “Dark Clouds Over a Closed World,” saying he intends “…simply to consider certain trends in our world that hinder the development of universal fraternity” (9). [Numbers after Fratelli Tutti quotes indicate the paragraph in the document where they are found.]

His list of concerns includes a throwaway world where “Some parts of our human family, it appears, can be readily sacrificed for the sake of others considered worthy of a carefree existence. Ultimately, persons are no longer seen as a paramount value to be cared for and respected, especially when they are poor and disabled, ‘not yet useful’ – like the unborn, or ‘no longer needed’ – like the elderly” (18).

Among other topics addressed in this section are the pandemic (32), loss of a sense of history that leads to “new forms of cultural colonization” (14), the spreading of despair and discouragement and using extremism and polarization as political tools (15), unequal respect of universal human rights (22), the fading sense of being part of a “single human family” (30), and poor treatment of migrants crossing borders around the world (37).

In Sunday’s gospel from Luke, Jesus elevates the call to love and care for our neighbors. When asked what the greatest command was, he had two, not one: Love God and love your neighbor as yourself. Everything, he said, depends on these two.

Chapter Two of Fratelli Tutti reflects on perhaps the most well-known parable in the New Testament: The Good Samaritan. Francis warns against the danger of hypocrisy evidenced by the priest and Levite, who passed the injured man without stopping to help: “It shows that belief in God and the worship of God are not enough to ensure that we are actually living in a way pleasing to God (74).” He encourages readers to start small, acting at local levels and then moving out to needs in their countries and in the world. “Difficulties that seem overwhelming are opportunities for growth, not excuses for a glum resignation that can lead only to acquiescence” (78).

Detail from The Good Samaritan by Vincent van Gogh

He writes forceful words about the Samaritan caring for the injured man and what that example means for us:

“… it leaves no room for ideological manipulation and challenges us to expand our frontiers. It gives a universal dimension to our call to love, one that transcends all prejudices, all historical and cultural barriers, all petty interests” (83).

In Sunday’s second reading, St. Paul praises the Thessalonians in part for turning away from idols to serve the true God. When reading about idols in Scripture, I don’t always make the connection to the idols in my life. It’s tempting to relegate them to earlier eras and the worship of statues or images.

But certainly, this age has its idols that get in the way of serving God and joining in the work of bringing God’s kingdom.

Everything, then, depends on our ability to see the need for a change of heart, attitudes and lifestyles.
Pope Francis Fratelli Tutti

Fratelli Tutti makes numerous references throughout to what I would call “idols” today: aggressive nationalism, limitless consumption, individualism, wealth, control, and self-interest to name a few.

Francis sees hope in the midst of the gloom – in willingness to dialogue and engage in genuine encounter, in the desire to love. God has placed goodness in the human heart, and many go about their ordinary days trying to be true neighbors, remembering no one is saved alone; we share the same hope; we sail in the same boat.

These readings and this encyclical are deeply challenging, if we take them seriously. In these times, how can we not? As Pope Francis writes, “Everything, then, depends on our ability to see the need for a change of heart, attitudes and lifestyles” (166).