Watching the devastating scenes of California’s fires is gut-wrenching. People are losing their homes, their communities, and their deep connections to places where they’ve raised children, looked out for neighbours, and woven lives filled with shared memories and care. These aren’t just structures burning—they are pieces of identity, history, and belonging reduced to ash. As I watch live coverage on YouTube, my attention is drawn to the comments section, and I find myself praying that these responses are the work of bots and not real humans. The words scrolling across my screen are fueled by political division, blame, and even justification for others’ suffering. How have we arrived at this point where such callousness feels so ordinary? This morning, as I feel overwhelmed by my own long to-do list, my thoughts turn to the residents of California and Tibet—where a catastrophic earthquake has destroyed remote villages. These disasters bring to mind the...