In January, the foothills of Los Angeles caught fire again. We shouldn’t have been surprised. Hurricane-force winds, a record-setting dry spell—the driest January in 150 years—and a landscape thirsty for ignition. The flames raced through canyons and neighborhoods, testing the boundaries of our preparedness. But more than just the hills burned—so did something deeper. So did our civic soul. Amidst the smoke and sirens, the moment could have been one of shared reverence: for the firefighters b...