Over the holidays I've started working on a series of blog posts that I'm entitling: what I have learnt from.... Originally, it was just going to be about what I've learnt about life and God from my dogs (and wow! There's a lot to learn! In fact, I think someone did write a book about just that - Lessons from a sheep dog, I seem to recall it was entitled), but then I realized that I've been learning about stuff from all sorts of things. Pondering that led me to decide to write this series, because I'm a teacher and I love teaching others the truths I have learnt, whether about DNA or matters of the heart.
This first post is not the first one I drafted, but it feels appropriate for today. Not sure why, but it is. So if you want to read the ones about my dogs, you'll have to come back another day.
This is the tree in my garden. When I first saw it, I hated it instantly, vehemently. Why? Because it is a Syringa. Syringas are horrid trees for a variety of reasons - they drop millions of mountains ofwhite blossoms everywhere; they produce poisonous berries; they drop those berries on the lawn till it looks like a pebble-covered beach; because their pollen makes me sneeze. I was determined to chop it down as soon as possible.
Twelve years later it is still here, and I have moved from hatred through tolerance and acceptance, to appreciation. (I'm not quite at the love stage yet, but I'm sure I will get there in time.) How was that possible? While staring at it one day, through my window, I realised that this tree didn't ask to be a Syringa. It just is one. It didn't ask to be planted in my garden; someone else made that choice, because they liked it. This tree doesn't choose to produce poisonous berries or drop its blossoms everywhere - it does that as a function of the type of tree it is (which it didn't choose for itself).
As I pondered those facts, I suddenly realized I was willing to give the tree the benefit of the doubt. Weird, yeah, I know. I started to see the things I now appreciate about it - it is a beautiful shade tree; it has lovely strong and spreading boughs - suitable for hanging multiple swings and things from and building a tree house (which is currently still just a dream in my head); its flowers are actually beautiful (and numerous); it is a lovely safe environment for Wit Ogies and other birds to hide in as they flit from tree to tree looking for food; the leaves make a beautiful sound as they rustle together in the breeze.
As I pondered these things I appreciated, I realized that in life, it is the same. We hate or dislike others because of what they are, forgetting that (often) they did not choose to be born into that family, or to be a certain race, or to be rich, or poor, or from a certain nation, or of a particular spirituality, or to think in a particular way. Often, all these things are a feature of our birth - whether genetics or the environment in which we are raised, or a combination of both. Either way, we cannot choose our genetics or our childhood environment. These two things make us what we are, fundamentally. (Of course, we can choose to change, but that requires a certain amount of reflection, a lot of hard work and deep motivation, which many people lack.)
In this extraordinary nation of ours, we celebrate diversity in public, but in private we are frequently much more conservative and exclusive. We love those who are like us and despise those who are different - different gender expressions, or ages, or social-economic status, or education level, or family status, or races, or nationalities, or different mother-tongue speakers, or body shapes, or thought processes, or priorities, or whatever - or we despise ourselves and wish fervently we could be like someone else instead.
How do we begin to bridge the divide? How do we begin to celebrate our diversity in truth, and. It just in name? Looking at my tree, I don't think the answer is in trying to find our commonality, nor to focus on our diversity. Focussing on our commonality denies the value that our differences bring, leads to exclusivity and make us more likely to hide who we truly are from each other. Focussing on our differences and celebrating them because they are different denies our common humanity and leads to pride. I think a third way is a better way.
When pondering my tree I did not look for commonality - my shared DNA (we share a lot more genes than you would think!), or that I am a strong woman (metaphorically) and it has strong branches, or that I shelter my children the way it shelters the birds... - nor did I look for our differences - to celebrate that it is larger than I, or greener than I, or a tree instead of a human. Instead, I looked to see what value it brings to my garden. That value is based on what the tree is - both a tree, and specifically a Syringa. By focusing on the intrinsic value it brings, I learnt to appreciate it.
I love lying in the shade of my tree. I love seeing the birds resting in its boughs and sheltering in its leaves. I love to see the beautiful flowers it produces. I love to see my children playing on the swings we hung from it. I love the fact that when I drive home along a particular route I can see my tree before anything else - it marks the spot that is my home. This is the value this tree brings, not because it is the same as me, or different to me, but because it is a Syringa tree in my garden.
If I can see people in this third way, by putting them at the centre instead of how they relate to me (which is putting myself at the centre), for the value they bring because of who they are, and not for their similarities to me, or differences, then I think there is hope for me, and for my environment, and for my city. If I can, then I think I can avoid both pride ("I am better than them") and despair ("they are so much better than me/ I am worthless"); I think I could then overcome my fear of the other, and walk in true freedom with the other.
But how is this possible? Well, I'm not sure it is. I am so given to comparisons and snap judgements, albeit secretly in my head and heart, that on my own I don't think I can truly change my mind-set on this. Plus, despite my best efforts, I still have so many stereotypes rolling around inside my head, many of which I'm not even conscious of! But fortunately, I'm not on my own. Fortunately, I have a Helper. Even with His help, I know it will be tough, but nothing worth having comes easily or without a price tag. Still though, this will be something I will need to choose each day, every day - to allow the Spirit to open my eyes to the value of others, not because of how they relate to me, but because of who they intrinsically are.
Thanks be to God for my Syringa tree!
