The Lesson of the Oak

         A few blocks from where I live is a stately old oak tree, the quintessential symbol of the East Bay area. Such trees dot the hillsides here east of San Francisco. They remind me of the oaks back in Texas. This particular oak is magnificent. I’m not good at guessing the age of anything, but this one must be at least several hundred years old. It stands in the front yard of a typical suburban mid-twentieth century ranch style home, just beside the street. High in its branches is a hollow where not long ago lived a large bee colony. Every time my dog and I walk past that oak, I am filled with a sense of wonder and gratitude for the One who created it.

          When I see that oak, I think of my ancient pre-Christian era ancestors in the British Isles and Western Europe. Like many ancient peoples, their faith was anchored in the things of nature. They revered trees, hills, mountains, rivers, the sea, and other pieces of natural evidence that there was something—or Someone—bigger, higher, more powerful and wiser than they. Of course they couldn’t explain the mystery of what they experienced with their senses and felt in their hearts, so their human minds began constructing stories, myths and legends to attach meaning to the unexplainable. These gave birth to religion, thus anthropomorphic and zoomorphic deities were created, gods and goddesses that handed down laws and rules and decrees for their human subjects to follow. The original sense of awe and wonder and love ignited by creation was lost to a system of rewards and punishments that empowered some and subjugated others. Religion became a way for the powerful minority to control the weaker majority. How many wars have been fought throughout human history in the name of religious ideology when really the masses doing the fighting were merely the puppets of the power-mongers struggling to accumulate wealth for themselves?

          Whether or not one takes the story of the Garden of Eden and the fall of mankind literally, we can all probably agree on this: humanity lost its innocence when it got greedy. The lust for power is what wrecked our pure, original relationship with the Creator. And the lust for power is rooted in fear. Those with high status fear losing their status quo, their wealth and possessions. Those with low status fear being stuck in that state, never having the sense of security (albeit a false sense) that wealth and possessions create. Some would say that the opposite of love is hate. I say that hate is merely the dark side of love. Fear is the opposite of love, otherwise why would the Bible say that perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18)? Love and fear cannot coexist.

          Yet throughout human history, fear seems to be the most widely wielded tool in religion: the fear of hellfire and brimstone; the fear of punishment; the fear of not being worthy; the fear of being exiled for all eternity; and for some, even today, the fear of being killed for not adopting a set of beliefs held by those more powerful. The number of times that the Bible states “Fear not” or “Do not be afraid” depends on the translation one is reading. However, it is mentioned a significant number of times. God is not a god of fear, but a god of love. God created everything and said it was good (Genesis 1:31). When we see creation—stately old oaks, magnificent mountain vistas, gorgeous sunsets, spectacular beaches, anything in nature that moves your spirit—let us pause and remember the One who made it, who placed it there as a message of love, saying, “Here I am. Remember me? I have loved you since the beginning of time, and I love you now, and I will love you forever after.” Let our religion, then, be a religion of love, and not of fear.