Photo: Amy Echeverria
When I was a girl, my mother told me a story about the dogwood tree and Easter. The legend goes that the wood of the dogwood tree was used for the Cross to crucify Jesus. Disturbed by this, Christ made it so that the dogwood tree would never be used again for this purpose. In some cultures, the dogwood is a symbol of Jesus’ Resurrection and the Spring of new life.
When I was older, I learned that the dogwood tree doesn’t grow in the Middle East and could never have been the wood of the Cross. That doesn’t keep me from thinking of the Resurrection every time I look at the dogwoods that surround my house today. It helps to have physical reminders of God’s immense love that is inclusive of all life. The disciples needed these reminders as well.
No one knows who first told the legend of the dogwood, but I imagine it was someone who was deeply connected to both the earth around them and their faith. Seeing the crucifixion this way is a good sign that the person who wrote this poem was someone who had integrated their physical and spiritual lives. This story conveys a depth of beauty beyond the dogwood blossoms.
To see the Resurrection in the dogwood is to experience a kinship with another of God’s precious creations that binds us in love. It reminds us that nature is more than pretty landscape, more than the backdrop to the human drama. The dogwood is more than a representation of God’s love; it is God’s love manifest. Just as humans are God’s love manifest.
The dogwoods in my backyard have become living companions. I watch them through the seasons and see their changes: the glorious blooms in spring, the abundant green leaves in summer, the burgundy foliage in autumn, and the thin lacey branches in winter. I watch the dogwoods give habitat to the birds and squirrels, shade to the deer, and healthy air to all who breathe in her midst. They are a source of life at every level.
Similarly in my spiritual life, they have accompanied me in times of grieving, rebirth, playfulness, and discernment. I have looked to them for guidance, spiritual insight, and companionship in times of waiting. This relationship, quite different from my human companions, helps me expand my heart’s imagination and experience of God. With the dogwoods, I have learned to be still and listen with my whole body.
This intimate relationship with these beautiful trees extends beyond a private, personal one. I notice that when I am in tune with the trees, I am in greater alignment with my vocation to work for justice, peace, and care for creation. I feel greater compassion, empathy, and solidarity with people and places around the world that are suffering. I am more committed to the advocacy needed to build God’s kingdom here and now.
It helps to know that humans and trees share physical commonalities. We are both primarily made up of water. We both are species that require connection to other species for survival. We are mutually dependent on oxygen and carbon dioxide. The pattern of human lungs is very similar to the roots of trees, which are essential for carrying life-sustaining nutrients throughout the body. These similarities can help us recognise and feel a deeper connection and love for the world around us.
During Easter, especially, when we read story after story in scripture of Jesus appearing to his disciples who are learning to listen with their whole bodies that Jesus is with them, I am glad to sit by my dogwoods and feel the presence of the Lord in my life. Like the dogwood, I change with the seasons, but God’s love, also like the dogwood, is always present.
Each Easter season may you know inner and outer connection to your world and God’s love in it. I hope the next time you see a dogwood that you too will remember the Resurrection.
Columban Justice, Peace, and Integrity of Creation Coordinator and resides in the USA.
Listen to "Reflection - The dogwood tree"
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