2020.6.4 - The Parable of the Red Wasp

I consider myself a veritable lover of most animals that move on God's green earth. 

I grew up with cats in the house (and I currently have a cat). I love horses, and I worked my first job caring and training horses. I always enjoy seeing the local dogs from my neighborhood and the happy tail-wagging that I'm greeted with by the invariably happy puppies.

I even enjoy observing the lesser-wanted animals, such as spiders, slugs, ants, and the like. I'm one of those insufferable people that will actively take care of pests by relocation rather than extermination. 

In other words, I pick up spiders and put them outside instead of squishing them. Yep, I'm one of those people. 

But, there is one particular animal that I cannot stand, no matter what circumstance I run across them

Red Wasps.

(specifically, Polistes carolina, if anyone is keeping track).

I don't even hate most wasps! "Mud dobbers" that make the small tubes of dirt and mud are totally fine! Common Wasp (which are distinct from Yellow Jackets, by the way) build small paper nests and actually assist with the smaller pest population. 

But I cannot stand Red Wasps. Because they apparently can't stand me, either. 

Chapter 1. The Early Years

Ever since I was a kid, wasps have been a part of my life. 

Our in-ground pool in our yard was a constant (and much appreciated) source of water for all kinds of insects. "Mud dobbers" used it as a source for water to make their little mud balls that they would use to construct their nests. Common wasps would use it as a source to construct their small, grey paper nests that sat occasionally in the corners of the rough-sawn cedar siding of my childhood home. 

But there was another insect that frequented that pool: Red Wasp. 

When I was quite young, I was running along the side of the pool, wet from playing in the pool, and I turned to jump into the shallow end of the pool where my friends were waiting. And as I stepped forward, a Red Wasp that was on the ground, sprung up and stung me in the place BETWEEN my toes. It was easily one of the most excruciating pains I had experienced. 

And yet, like what I thought a true animal lover would do, I refused to kill it or smack it. The Red Wasp that day stung me good, and I was going to be the bigger man and not retaliate.

This non-retaliation continued with me throughout my young childhood, where I couldn't stand to smack or poison them, as it just seemed like an immense cruelty. But the Red Wasp didn't exactly seem to care too much, as they continued to get after me, springing ninja-like out of the rock walls of my house and dropping out of the sky like dive-bombers when I played with my friends at my swing-set. 

But it was not just this incident, as the Red Wasp that inhabited our area was not just out in nature. 

Chapter 2. The Lawn Tractor 

My favorite memories of my childhood were spent out in my Dad's shop. 

Whether it was woodwork, mechanic work, or something in between, I always loved being with Dad out in his shop. And then came the day that Dad believed I was ready to take on my first project: an old Sears lawn tractor that belonged to my Grandma. 

The lawn tractor was a small one, with a one-cylinder Tecumseh engine, that dad and I slowly took apart, fixed, and put back together. It was a really enjoyable (and frustrating) exercise that truly taught me how to carefully fix a complex machine.

When we were done with it, we would store it in a shed-dormer that was on the side of the shop. It was open to the air, and exposed to the elements. We pushed it out one week to make space for another project, and we didn't return to it until about a month later.

One day, as I was going to pull it back out, there was a hole in the tractor seat that we hadn't covered up yet. And as I reached to grab the tractor, my eyes saw something white sitting inside the hole. And my fight or flight took over, because I knew what it was almost instinctively, and I ran out of there JUST as a jack-box-like-springing-open of red came blasting out of that hole. 

Red Wasps, and a LOT of them. 

I was glad I got out of there, and I was flipping terrified to even go near that tractor. 

But, once again, I was one of those people that just refused to extract or exterminate the nest! And so I did what any normal person would do: I just didn't touch the lawn tractor again until winter when the nest was dormant and the wasps had gone away. 

You know, because normal people totally abandon perfectly good projects because there is an aggressive wasp species nesting in the seat of their tractor.  

Chapter 3. The Kubota 

Picture is not our old tractor, but it is the same model!

When I was in high school, I "graduated" from small lawn tractors to a big 'ole Kubota L35 that I used to grade our dirt road, bush-hog the wood overgrowth behind the shop, and mow the lawn with a giant 48 inch PTO driven mower. 

It was a work tractor that got a lot of use. 

But, one of the things about that big diesel tractor is that, when working the lawn, it was LOUD. As I would drive by the house, it would jiggle the windows a little bit, especially when I was mowing.

That noise and jiggling was also a sure-fire way to locate hidden Red Wasp nests. Because those suckers do not like the noise that that tractor was bringing their way. 

But unfortunately, the tractor did not have an enclosed cab, which meant that the driver (that's me) was exposed to any flying thing that decided to spring. 

And boy, did I get sprung upon several times. 

I drove by the garage overhang one time, and suddenly I'm surrounded by red, coming from a large hidden nest inside our garage soffet vent.

What did I do about that?

Like any normal person, I kept riding the tractor and ducking down away from the garage when I passed. Of course I didn't spray the large nest, because why would I ever do that?

But one hidden nest is small play in comparison to meeting my match in the shop eve not too long after that. 

Chapter 4. The Shop Eve

I was getting into a side-shed next to Dad's workshop.

Now, the side shop is a favorite spot for wasps, as the uncovered 2x4 construction provides many nice hanging spots for paper nests. 

However, when I got into the shed, I noticed that something fell on my head right as I entered to get out our 4 wheeler.

Then, when I exited the shed, I once again felt something doink off of the top my head. 

Now, acorns are no unusual thing to get hit by back in the woods. But something tripped my Spidey Senses (TM) and I looked up to the shop eve. 

And there, sitting on top of the metal roof were three red wasps. Just sitting, watching, but with wings buzzing as they perched. I had never seen this behavior before. I couldn't see any nest, so I just chalked it up to Red Wasps just being Red Wasps. 

But, the next time I came out to the shop, they were still perched and watching. Sometimes there was only one, but there were as many as four. 

I got curious. I started to examine the area. 

The side shed didn't have any nest. But, as I watched, I saw that they came out of the shop eve immediately next to where the wasps perched.

The only way to get to the eve was inside the shop through the rafters.

I used a step ladder and opened up the ceiling near where I assumed that the next was.

But, again, my Spidey Senses (TM) told me something was up. And boy, was something up. 

As I ascended the ladder, I heard a sound like the sound of wind blowing through leaves. But there ain't no leaves in the shop. And as I raised the ceiling, I was greeted by what in hindsight I would describe as a pretty fantastically terrifying sight. 

This Red Wasp nest was three-tiered, going from the largest circle of nest descending in a twisted upside-down wedding cake pattern, with a medium sized disc and a small disc attached to the side of the shop eve. 

Like a cartoon, I moved quick enough out the door of the shop that there was only an outline of where I had been prior. 

Then, after gathering up my courage, I shined a flash light up into the dark corner of the shop. 

Hundreds. Hundreds of the suckers. 

And the crazy thing is that the nests built upon were obviously old nests. Nests that had been dormant or abandoned. And yet these dormant, old nests had become a new breeding ground for a legitimately dangerous infestation of Red Wasp, which if you haven't guessed, can be very aggressive in comparison to other wasp species. 

There was only one option: I had no choice but to take care of the nest.

And I returned with not one, not two, but three cans of wasp spray. And I admit, I also came back with a hat, a long sleeve flannel, and jeans in the middle of a 100+ degree day in the summer. 

And it was war. 

I sprayed up into the corner and I might as well have set off a small bomb. The violent rushing of wings blasted out of the corner traveling straight down the line of wasp spray that I feebly aimed at the ceiling. 

It took me all afternoon to take down this darn nest. It was a combination of spray, run away, and repeat.

Sooner or later, it finally was taken care of, but not without my fair share of pain, terror, and persistent action to get rid of a situation that had become legitimately dangerous. 

But, I have to admit: I was still too afraid to actually get up into the corner and actually remove the nest. Luckily, the amount of wasp spray had soaked it so completely that the nest's anchor to the ceiling became fragile and slopped off, carrying the nest with it. And so it remains in that eve of the shop, probably still to this day. 

Chapter 5. The Parable

My deep hate and fear of the Red Wasp throughout my life so far contains within it, I think, a warning. And it is a particular warning that I often fail to hear:

Address the small problems, so that it doesn't become a bigger problem.

You see, Red Wasps nests always start small, and small nests are always very innocent looking and it almost seems cruel find a way to deal with them. But, the other thing about Red Wasp is that they have one of the largest hive sizes of any native wasp species.

If left unchecked, nests grow quickly and became legitimately dangerous, especially to those who are allergic to their stings. 

We can see evidence of a dangerous problem, yet because we can't see the nest clearly, we are sometimes tempted to just let it be. 

But what ends up happening is that the nest gets bigger and stronger, and the drones become more and more aggressive, even pursuing large prey that they wouldn't be able to take down if not for the fact that they overwhelm you with their numbers.

But, perhaps the most important point, is that when the HUGE problem gets exposed to the light, the problem has built-in defense mechanisms that will fight to the death to maintain itself.  

So, rather than the problem taking care of itself, that problem requires a direct, concerted, continuous, and sometimes drastic mode of action. 

And the thing about HUGE problems is that the entire colony of the problem in question is often multi-tiered, descending down from what we thought were old, dead issues put to bed long ago - nests that we though were dead or dormant. 

But now that it is exposed, its time for the intervention.

It is an intervention that will get us stung, it will frighten us, it will aggressively attack us, and it will seek to demoralize us with intimidation and a show of force. 

But it is a problem that cannot be ignored any longer.

The nest has become too dangerous. The drones have multiplied too much. 

And the problem has to be dealt with right now. 

Chapter 6. The Allegory

What we have seen in the murders of George Floyd, Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, and many other black Americans has brought up the besetting sin that we in the U.S. are particularly and historically bound unto: the sin of racism. 

And the sin of racism is a Red Wasp nest that I, as a white person, have simply ignored for too long. And the nest has gotten far too dangerous to not deal with directly. 

But, perhaps something that the constant stream of the news media or our social media fail to address is that these protests sweeping the nation don’t come from nowhere. And the roots of the protests taking to the streets are not merely about one or two people. 

George, Ahmaud, and Breonna were the victims of a nest that has grown so large and aggressive, that the nest can't be hidden anymore. 

The nest is apparent, it is three-tiered, and it is so strong that it is preying on any target it sees as a threat to its survival.

But if the massive nest and the hundreds of red wasps are the explosion of the problem, there has been a lot of time where the problem had to grow.

It started small, "insignificant," a single red wasp fluttering in a corner. Then, we allowed the nest to be built, because we feel badly or we look with pity on such a seemingly small problem. Or, perhaps we saw such a small problem as not worth our time addressing:

  - The racial joke made at another's expense that we didn't feel merited being called out. 

  - The middle-school racial name calling that was just "kids being kids." 

But those "insignificant" problems become larger and larger the more we leave them alone. 

  - The playground bully that beats up another kid because of the color of his skin. 

  - The teenager so overcome by the prejudice against their blackness that they take their life in suicide. 

  - The college kid that gets mugged outside his dorm because he is brown and speaks Spanish.

  - The young black athlete out for a jog that gets hunted down and murdered.

  - The community leader and father who gets murdered by officers of the law.

The nest has been growing for hundreds of years. And the more it gets exposed, the more aggressively it defends itself. 

And boy, its going to take a long time to take care of the nest. 

The Epilogue

But, it is possible to begin to take care of the nest. 

It can happen, with God's help. 

My own history and silence on the matter of racism is something that I have to continuously, painfully, and necessarily come to terms with in my own life in Jesus Christ. 

As has been put into my face these past two weeks, there is so much more than just the big stories we see or read about. The protests and demonstrations happening aren't just about two or three people. It is about the countless unnamed and unknown victims that have suffered.

But, friends, the thing we must all keep in mind is that we know the end of the story already. 

God wins in the end. Full stop, end of sentence.

The end of that story is that Jesus Christ most surely has brought salvation to the world through his sacrificial death for us, even while we were still sinners. (Romans 5:8). 

And Jesus Christ will once again come in power and great glory to bring perfect justice and instantiate the perfect Love of God forever and ever. 

But in the mean time, we are called to walk the Way of the Cross and follow Jesus in the midst of the uncertainties and dangers of the world.

I don’t really know what that looks like for you. I don’t even know what that ultimately looks like for me.

However, I do know my next steps are going to be. 

1. I'm going to pray.

I'm going to pray that the Holy Spirit will show me and us what we need to do in this season of Pentecost and beyond to be agents of change and healing in our society, while also acknowledging the reality of the evil forces that are trying to tear us apart.

2. I'm going to read my Bible.

Jesus said, my kingdom is not of this world. But we are to be in the world, but not of the world. Our values are Jesus’ values. Holding fast to Our Lord's teaching and example, I will try my best to love God with everything I am and my neighbors as myself, remembering that Jesus also taught me to even love my enemies.

3. I'm going to advocate and support in the ways that I can. 

Racism is something that is so entrenched in the fabric of society that it is hard to know what exactly where to begin to address it. 

But, as one dear friend pointed out to me: I can't fix it alone. I can only do my part. 

So, what are the things I can do?

I'm going to do what I can to educate myself about racism. It is unfair for me to expect others to educate me when there are so many resources and voices that I could access. 

I'm going to do my darnedest to listen to hard stories, lift up voices that are ignored, and try to let my own mind be changed and made better by my black brothers and sisters that have to deal with oppression almost every day of their lives. 

I'm also going to do what I know I do well. I need to make racism and racial justice a pressing theological issue that needs addressing. Theological training might seem like a whole bunch of nonsense to some. But, because I'm a follower of Jesus, I have to make the love of my neighbor and the care for all those in God's image a theological priority in my academic life. 

But most of all, perhaps the best way I can be a servant is to walk the way of the Cross, die a very real death to my own self, so that those who have been dying all the day long may rise in the Resurrection. 

My own voice, as much as I like to talk (and y'all know that I can talk), has to become a voice that speaks on behalf of others and not my own. My voice needs to be made small so that those who I so often speak over may have the space to be heard. 

In doing so, I hope that I can simply do my part in living out what I hold as Gospel truth: that we all will one day be gathered around the throne of God together as one people, regardless of the color of our skin or the language that we speak. 

Revelation 7:9-10

"After this I looked, and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and before the Lamb. They were wearing white robes and were holding palm branches in their hands. And they cried out in a loud voice:

Salvation belongs to our God,

who sits on the throne,

and to the Lamb."

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Pax Domini.