On Monday, my esteemed partner, Keith Russell and I, began teaching a course on the church and environmental justice at New York Theological Seminary in Manhattan. (Frequently, when I say I teach at NYTS, people respond, “Oh, Union. That’s a great place.” Just so you know, Union is an Ivy League, ferociously expensive, liberal Protestant seminary. NYTS is the Black/Latinx/Asian night school a few blocks away).
One of the things I love about NYTS (where I myself did an M.Div. in the 1980s) is that the students are almost all real people, coming in to their 6 PM classes from jobs as teachers, MTA workers, or pastors of storefront churches. And they are often really excited about and grateful for the things they learn.
Monday and Tuesday night I taught about environmental racism and the history of the environmental justice movement, as well as the ways in which people of color and the poor comprise the “ground zero” of climate change. During the rest of the course Keith will be working with the students on how to preach and teach about environmental justice in the congregations in which they now minister or will soon.
The students were amazed by what they learned in the first two sessions, explaining at the end of Tuesday’s class that they had always thought that racial justice and civil rights were one thing, and that environmentalism was something else entirely. Among the statistics that they were unaware of is that Black children in the United States are twice as likely as white children to have asthma, and that the single greatest threat to the health of all American children is lead poisoning.
Which brings us to the recent scandal in Flint Michigan. I suppose you know the details. In spring of 2014, the city, in order to save money, switched from the supply of Lake Huron water it had long purchased from Detroit and started drawing water from the Flint River, treating it locally. Residents immediately began complaining about the smell, taste, and appearance of the water; by the summer, three water boil advisories had been declared. City officials repeatedly claimed that the water was fine.
In February of 2015 a water advisory commission was formed to address concerns. In September, a group of doctors at a Flint hospital called for a return to the Detroit water source after finding high levels of lead in the blood of Flint children. The state then stepped in, and in October the legislature approved $6 million dollars to help switch the water supply back to its earlier source and deal with the damaged pipes. Yesterday, President Obama declared the water contamination in Flint a Federal emergency.
The main problem, according to the New York Times, is that the water from the Flint River was corrosive, due to inadequate treatment by the city, and caused lead to leach from old pipes in homes and schools. Even small amounts of lead can cause serious health problems, while the mental and psychical development of children under six is especially at risk.
What many news sources fail to mention in their coverage of this story (though Hillary Clinton did mention it in last night’s debate), is that Flint is a majority Black city. Fifty-seven percent of the population is Black, with another three percent plus Latinx. What we all should remember, especially on Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday, is that there is a very big overlap between racial injustice and the environmental crisis.
Lately, mixed in with all the holiday chatter, I’ve been hearing a lot about addiction. A friend in Ohio had a knee replacement, but in order to offset the morphine epidemic there, she can only get a renewal of her pain meds by having someone carry a written prescription from the doctor’s office to the drugstore and then deliver it back to her. She’s seventy years old and has a Ph.D. so her potential for heroin addiction, is, um, modest. Then there was the NCR discussion of whether the New Hampshire heroin epidemic was caused by overuse of pain killers or trading up from teenage drug use at parties.
Me, my addiction is of a different sort. I’m a bookaholic. We live in a nine hundred square foot apartment, and all the book shelves are full, but I keep on acquiring more books. One source of my addiction is Greenlight Books over on Fulton Street; my membership in the Brooklyn Academy of Music includes a twenty percent discount at Greenlight, and it just seems silly not to buy new books there when I am saving so much money with that big a discount.
Then there are all the books that people put out on the stoop over in Windsor Park and Park Slope. I’m a big time walker, and there the books are. Who could resist? And of course there are the one penny second-hand books on Amazon. I just sent a away for a classic 1978 volume on Senator Joseph McCarthy and the House UnAmerican Activities Committee. I mean, how could a person live without that?
My esteemed companion sat me down one day and suggested that maybe every time I get two books, I could get rid of one. I told him in no uncertain terms that there was nothing in the prenup about books.
You may conclude from all this that I read a great deal. I do do a certain amount of reading. But that’s not really the point. As my dear Grail mentor Eleanor Walker once said, back in the 1970s, “I don’t read my books; I feel warmly toward them.” Very warmly.
It occurred to me at one point that maybe what I should do is start a Bookaholics Anonymous group (BA). Those who share my need for more and more books could meet with me and we could discuss our problem. Then it came to me that we could also bring some of our books and have a book exchange. Not sure what the Higher Power would think about that part.
I guess before I make supper I’ll go start reading the slightly water-logged copy of Dennis Lehane’s A Drink Before the War that I picked up on Prospect Park West this afternoon.
And may your new year be filled with many, many books.
Tags: carpal tunnel syndrome, Getting older, Orange is the New Black, Timothy Snyder's Black Earthy
A while ago—twenty years or so, I’d say—a number of liberal Protestant church leaders from the New York area, their spouses and families, owned summer homes in a town up in Maine. Dibbie and Bill Webber, Dodie and George Younger were two such couples. At a certain point, they began a discussion group called “We Are All Growing Older.”
Having such group struck me as wise. And I certainly didn’t disagree with the thesis. Of course, we’re all getting older.
On the other hand, my admiration and agreement were, I now realize, a bit theoretical. We’re all getting older, but not yet, God willing.
Beginning in April of 2014 I began rethinking this. As I described it some months later, that was when Keith, my husband, began a year of serious illnesses, punctuated by the death of his mother. After pneumonia, surgery for two unrelated forms of cancer, plantar fasciitis in both his feet, burying his mother, and a stress fracture in his ankle, things calmed down a bit, but not enough to allow me to slide back into my prior sense of immortality.
Just lately we seem to be having round two, though on a much smaller scale. More than a year ago I began experiencing tingling—what we called “pins and needle” back in the day—in my hands and feet. The somewhat worthless internist I consulted was in a hurry and pooh-poohed it. A year later, when it hadn’t gone away, I consulted a new doctor, who sent me to a neurologist, who did a whole long string of tests–poking, sticking, mild electrocution. Then he said, “Well, the tingling in your hands is a sign of essential tremor and carpal tunnel syndrome; the tingling in your feet is caused, I believe, by a lower back problem.” He ordered an MRI to explore the latter.
It all seemed a little much—three diagnoses in one day. Then, the following week, one of my molars got an infection and our splendid dentist announced that I had to have it and the guy next to it out and replace them with implants. Yesterday the extractions occurred and I got three slots drilled into the bone underneath the former teeth in preparation for the implants. At the same time I have been doing carpal tunnel exercises everyday, wearing carpal tunnel splints to bed at night, and going to physical therapy for my back.
I will spare you the whining and lamenting. A lot of the people out here in the middle of Brooklyn couldn’t begin to afford the implants I’m getting. And when I’m at the physical therapy office, a number of patients come in all twisted up with arthritis, or needing a walker to walk, or otherwise in pain. And we discovered the carpal tunnel early, so I’m not likely to need surgery. Here, as at other times, being the oldest child of an Irish working-class family is a big help: just shut up and do the assignment, as the grown-ups used to say.
But I do think I’m going to postpone finishing Timothy Snyder’s Black Earth: The Holocaust as History and Memory for a few days. Instead, maybe I’ll just binge-watch “Orange is the New Black”!
These days many of us are thinking about the security risks that accompany admitting Syrian immigrants to the U.S., and, sadly, to France. Sometimes it helps to step back and remember that earlier conflicts over immigration, even some that were fairly violent, had a happy ending.
The current movie “Brooklyn,” for example, is the story of two members of once-hostile groups, the Irish and the more recently arrived Italians, literally falling in love. It’s also a fictional version of the story that Paul Moses tells in his new book, An Unlikely Union: The Love-Hate Story of New York’s Irish and Italians ( New York University Press, 2015. 368 pp. Hardback: $35; eBook: $14.04.) Here’s a slightly revised version of my review of that book that appeared recently in Gumbo, the monthly publication of the Grail in the U.S.
Initially, readers—in Oregon, for example, or Louisiana—may wonder why they should read the story of a struggle between two white ethic groups in New York City between 1850 and 2001. But a glance at today’s headlines provides a ready answer: the hostility over immigration, and between previous immigrant groups and those just arriving, is as fierce as ever.
The author of An Unlikely Union, Paul Moses, is an award-winning journalist and professor of journalism at Brooklyn College. He is also a superb storyteller. And part of the story is his own—from pretend rumbles between Italian and Irish kids at his 1960s parochial school here in Brooklyn, to how he (half-Italian, half Jewish) came to marry an Irish-American girl, Maureen. The primary narrative, however, addresses the evolution of the two wider ethic groups from outright enmity in the nineteenth century to collaboration and even merger by the end of the twentieth.
The story, in some senses, is economic, with poor Irish Catholic immigrants whose families fled to the U.S. during and after the Potato Famine of the 1840s fighting equally poor Italian immigrants who arrived several decades later. Some of this played out on the New York waterfront, where Italians served as strike breakers till some of them realized that starting unions, not fighting them, would pay better in the long run.
Another dimension of the struggle unfolded in the Catholic Church, where the Irish immigrants who had identified for centuries with the papacy over against the English monarchy deeply distrusted Italian immigrants who supported the overthrow of the monarchical Papal States in 1870. An even darker chapter in the competition involved gunfights between Irish and Italian gangs struggling to control the streets of New York. And then there was politics, with Big Tim Sullivan’s Tammany Democrats eventually being defeated by Italian Republicans like the half-Jewish half-Episcopalian Fiorella LaGuardia, and eventually, Rudy Giuliani.
Moses attributes much of the gradual resolution of the hostility of the two groups to their shared religion. Indeed, his stories of Irish-American bishops and priests coming to terms with Italian priests and nuns over how to minister to the arriving immigrants are some of the most eye opening. My own personal favorite is Mother (later St.) Francis Xavier Cabrini, who had come with some of her sisters to work in the Italian community, refusing outright to return to Italy when New York Archbishop Michael Corrigan ordered her to do so. Moses also attributes much of the eventual cessation of hostilities between the two groups to Catholic sisters, in this case, primarily Irish ones, who helped Italian immigrants assimilate into U.S. culture during their time in parochial schools.
My other favorite chapters address the roles of music and food in bringing about peace between the two groups. The Irish came to realize that pizza tastes a lot better than potatoes and cabbage. And reading about the singing contests between Bing Crosby and Franck Sinatra almost brought tears to my eyes; my own mother, whose grandmother was an Irish servant, simply adored Frank.
Moses acknowledges that economic factors were as significant in the laying down of arms by the Irish and the Italians as they were in starting the hostilities. These include how families from ethnically segregated urban areas became neighbors in the New York suburbs after World War II, and how rising income levels during the post-war economic boom healed a lot of wounds. He also acknowledges the role that race played—how the Italians “becoming white,” as the Irish had before them, gradually eliminated at least one cause of hostility between them—though it certainly didn’t improve the situation of African Americans.
There’s always a danger that a book like An Unlikely Union will serve as a “happy narrative” –-making readers feel optimistic without facing up to the difficulties and complexities of the story. Indeed, one of the most discouraging aspects of the current immigration conflict, in this country at least, is that it’s led by the descendants of immigrants, people like Paul Ryan and Bobby Jindal, who seem to think that they rose up the economic ladder through their own hard work. But a book like this one can also help us to understand that things such as rising wages and racial reconciliation really can reduce anti-immigrant prejudice. God willing, this realization in turn will inspire us to get out there and fight to bring such changes about.
Tags: exercise bike, Tunturi exercise bike
In the summer of 1992, Keith and I moved to Philadelphia for me to start the Ph.D. program in Religion at Temple University. Keith commuted back and forth to run the Doctor of Ministry program at New York Theological Seminary.
We rented a loft apartment down on 3rd street, just west of the Delaware River. It was by New York standards huge and very nearly free. Since we had some space, I went out and bought a Tunturi exercise bike. As I recall, we paid $220 for it. I rode it three times a week or so for the five years we were in Philly.
In 1997 we moved out to Berkeley, California, to begin our eleven years at the American Baptist Seminary of the West. We sent the bike out with the rest of our stuff. I continued riding it for forty-five minutes several times a week. In 2008, when we moved back to Brooklyn, we shipped the bike back, too. We put it in the bedroom of our nine-hundred square foot apartment in Ditmas Park, and I went right on riding it.
In the past few years, though, the wheels of the bike began making screeching noises, and various parts broke off. My esteemed companion took to saying that he was afraid the bike was going to break up while I was riding it and that I’d fall off and fracture my skull.
Last weekend I rode up to Dartmouth for the Orr symposium (more on that in another post) and then went to visit my brother across the river in Vermont. I was lamenting the demise of my bike after only twenty-three years, and he said,”Oh, I have an exercise bike in the garage that you should take. I bought a new one a year ago, but they delivered two by mistake. I called and told them to come and get it but they never did.” He had paid $400 for his.
Keith had driven up to join me after the symposium, so we got the bike out of its box and put it into the Prius. It was the first time we realized that the car’s back seats went down! When we got home, Keith put it together for me. It’s actually a much better bike than the Tunturi, probably because my brother and his wife are bicycle racers and so have higher standards than I do. I am winded after half an hour on mine. (I am not telling you the bike’s brand so the manufacturers don’t come and confiscate it.) Keith had a hard time getting the little computer on the handlebars to work, but after only seven or eight tries, he got it going; my boy is nothing if not determined.
I was in the habit of telling people that the Tunturi cost me nine dollars a year. This one is costing zero dollars a year. If I ride it for twenty-three years, as I did the last one, I’ll be ninety-two when it wears out.
Tags: " Religion Dispatches, heresy, John O'Malley SJ, Marcel Lefebvre, Massimo Faggioli, Pope Francis, Ross Douthat, schism, Society of St. Pius X
Well, on Hallowe’en New York Times columnist Ross Douthat fired off another rocket in the Catholic culture wars with his “Letter to the Catholic Academy.” Douthat had, in recent months, published a series of Times columns and blogs about the Catholic Church under Pope Francis, culminating in his October 18th “The Plot to Change Catholicism.” On October 26, a number of Catholic theologians, led by Massimo FaggioiIi and the highly regarded Vatican II historian John O’Malley, S.J.,wrote a letter to the Times calling Douthat’s statements “unapologetically subject to a politically partisan narrative that has very little to do with what Catholicism really is.” A number of conservative columnists and a few theologians rebutted the theologians’ letter, accusing them of trying to silence Douthat, especially since their letter states that Douthat does not have the credentials to make such assertions. Douthat’s October 31column is also a response to the letter.
Quite a lot has been written about this kerfuffle, and you may not have time to read all of it, so let me tell you what I think. Words like “heresy” and schism,” as well as “plot,” are very strong words, and have precipitated lots of nasty events throughout the history of the Catholic and other Christian churches. Consider, for example, the execution of Michael Servetus, founder of the Unitarian Church, at the order of John Calvin in 1553. It’s also worth noting that even the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops’, in their harsh condemnation of Elizabeth A. Johnson’s book Quest for the Living God, do not use the word “heresy” even once.
More to the point, as Michael Bayer of The University of Iowa Catholic Center argued persuasively even before Douthat’s latest broadside, the main issue in this debate is not the theologians’ supposedly despicable attempt to silence poor Ross (though Bayer admits the wording of the theologians’ letter could have been more careful in this regard). The main issue is that an article in the New York Times–the world’s most influential English language publication–has the potential to do enormous harm, much as the media’s “ubiquitous insistence that Saddam Hussein possessed weapons of mass destruction, and that we needed to invade Iraq in order to eliminate this existential threat” did after 9/11.
Indeed, as Bayer argues, a number of conservative Catholic bishops no doubt read Douthat’s column, and may well adopt his erroneous identification of heresy with dissent. In my reading, Douthat is actually doing everything he can to bring about a schism, a schism of the very kind that his conservative forebears Archbishop Marcel Lefebvre and the Society of St. Pius X initiated after Vatican II. (And the Vatican did use the word “schismatic” in condemning their actions).
This is so because Pope Francis’s teaching of mercy, and his argument, in Laudato Si’ and elsewhere, that the destruction of God’s creation and the oppression of the poor are sins as grievous as abortion, contradict the absolute, sexual-morality-based Catholicism that led Douthat and others to the Catholic Church in the first place. God willing, Francis will continue to communicate that the Church is more that the Nicene Creed and the condemnation of abortion, as an unhappy respondent to the Commonweal blogpage once claimed. Maybe, before long, even what Jesus has to say about the poor, and the Catholic social teaching rooted in his words, will be once again acknowledged to be the heart of Catholic doctrine as much as the defense of human life is.
Tags: "Cancer Alley", Dr. Robert Bullard, environmental justice, environmental racism, Peggy M. Shepherd, Rev. Benjamin Chavis, We Act for Environmental Justice Harlem
Well, you haven’t heard from me for a while, in large part because I’ve been running around like a chicken giving talks and teaching classes. I’ll be sharing some of the other talks with you in the future, but today I’m going to fill you in on the first two of a series of luncheon seminars on environmental justice that my husband, Keith Russell, the Rev. Lori Hartman, and I are leading up at New York Theological Seminary this fall.
The first session was an introduction to the environmental justice movement and the environmental racism that made the movement necessary. We discussed two on-line videos, the first a case study of the dire environmental situation in Camden, New Jersey, a majority Black city a hundred miles south of New York. Some of the seminar participants were shocked that such things were going on so close to NYC; later they would be even more shocked by the situation in Harlem and the South Bronx.
The second video was “Environmental Justice on the Cutting Edge,” a lecture by Dr. Robert Bullard, the “father of the environmental justice moment,” about what the environmental justice movement is. We began viewing it about ten minutes in, when Bullard actually begins talking. People found the series of Power Point maps that Bullard shows especially informative.
With the discussion about these two videos as background, the second session focused on environmental justice as a grass-roots phenomenon driven by groups and actions in local communities. I started the session by giving a talk about the movements in which the environmental justice movement is rooted, after which we watched and discussed another case-study video, this one about community action against environmental racism in Chester, Pennsylvania. Finally, I introduced our distinguished speaker, Peggy Morrow Shepherd, director and co-Founder of We Act for Environmental Justice, the grass-roots environmental justice organization in Harlem.
Here’s my talk:
In the lecture video that we viewed last week, Dr. Robert Bullard said that the environmental justice movement isn’t a top down movement where experts tell the people what the problem is and what they should do about it. It’s a grass roots movement where the people being harmed by environmental racism come together, get organized, and fight back.
In fact, the environmental justice movement is intrinsically connected to, or even descended from, four grassroots movements that came before it. These four movements, as Luke Cole and Sheila Foster explain in their wonderful book, From the Ground Up: Environmental Racism and the Rise of the Environmental Justice Movement, are the civil rights movement, the anti-toxics movement, the United Farm Workers|, and the indigenous people’s movement. (Much of this talk is taken from the first chapter of the Cole/Foster book).
The first and most influential of these, of course, was the civil rights movement, with church-based civil rights leaders, Latino as well as African-American, pioneering the early actions against environmental racism. Martin Luther King Jr., for example, was in Memphis to support the garbage workers’ strike there when he was killed in 1968. The first protest against environmental racism, in 1992, against the dumping of polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs) in African American majority Warren County, NC, was led by civil rights activist and African American minister Dr. Benjamin Chavis. The first national report on environmental racism was issued by the United Church of Christ’s Commission for Racial Justice, which was also led by Rev. Chavis.
Especially important in the development of the environmental justice movement was the civil rights emphasis on direct action and refusing to accept claims from experts who try to argue, for example, that environmental degradation in majority Black, Latino or indigenous areas are somehow random, unintentional. The five hundred people arrested in acts of civil disobedience against PCBs, the extremely toxic chemical compounds dumped in Warren County, NC, directly echoed earlier civil rights sit-ins and acts of civil disobedience.
Civil rights leaders in positions of political power have also made a difference; Congressman John Lewis introduced the Environmental Justice Act in 1992; it did not pass, but raised environmental justice as a public issue.
The anti-toxics movement was also really important. It burst into national prominence in the late 1970s when President Jimmy Carter declared Love Canal a disaster area and evacuated residents of a housing development built on a former toxic waste dump there. This was the beginning of “grassroots environmentalism” because it and similar actions were about the effects of toxic waste on human health, not only about wilderness and wildlife. Subsequently, seven thousand anti-toxics groups formed across the country, but they tended to lack the kind of national organizing skills that characterized the civil rights movement.
Nonetheless, anti-toxics groups advanced the national policy of pollution prevention by getting certain industrial chemicals banned. They also led the way by using (or in some cases, discrediting) scientific knowledge. Academic research has proven essential to getting toxics banned across the country. The anti-toxics movement also helped to shift the focus from legal to economic structures that were purported to be “natural” but weren’t. Profit fixation can be as harmful as unjust laws.
The third precursor of the environmental justice movement, the United Farm Workers, brought together the quest for Latino civil rights with labor organizing, focusing in particular, on the toxic effects of pesticides in the fields where farm workers labored. It started with successful organizing to ban the use of DDT in the later 1960s, an action that was the first instance of organizing against environmental racism in the US. Latinos have also organized against excessive logging that destroys the environment, and against strip mining, especially in the Southwest.
The fourth grassroots movement that has had a significant impact on the environmental justice movement is the indigenous people’s movement. This is so in part because indigenous people are all around the world, and so have helped build connections between environmental justice groups here in the U.S. and in other countries, especially in the Global South. One of the first indigenous environmental actions in the U.S. was in the late 1980s when a Navajo tribe in Northeast Arizona organized against the siting of a toxic waste incinerator on their reservation. This initial action has now grown into an international network of forty grassroots indigenous environmental justice groups.
The other significant contribution of the indigenous peoples’ movement to the environmental justice movement is the spiritual dimension it brings, specifically to the understanding of the environment by Christian and other western environmental justice groups. This is so because indigenous people understand themselves to be connected much more directly to the earth than many of us in the West do. Intrinsic to the indigenous movement is the sense that indigenous people are a part of everything, not set above it. This contrasts with the “dominion theory of creation” believed by many Christian groups, that God created us to have dominion over the earth and subdue it, not to be part of it.
But this indigenous notion of being one with the earth is precisely the “integral ecology” that Pope Francis called all people to in his encyclical on the environment, Laudato Si’, last May. So some Christians do in fact share this notion of deep connection with all creation. This integral spirituality, introduced by the indigenous people’s movement, is present throughout the “Principles of Environmental Justice,” formulated by the first People of Color Environmental Justice Leadership Summit in 1991. These principles affirm the sacredness of Mother Earth, ecological unity, and the interdependence of all species.
One group that Cole and Foster do not mention in From the Ground Up, but that has played a highly significant role in the environmental justice movement, is women. But Bob Bullard and Damu Smith devote an entire chapter to women in The Quest for Environmental Justice. It’s called “Women Warriors of Color on the Front Line” of the environmental justice movement. They begin by mentioning three women of color who have received national and even international acclaim for their leadership in the environmental justice movement.
One of these is the Kenyan, Wangari Maathai, who received the 2004 Nobel Peace Prize for founding and leading the Green Belt Movement that mobilized poor women to plant 30 million trees in Africa over a thirty year period. Another is Margie Richard, from Louisiana’s “Cancer Alley,” who was the first African American woman to receive the prestigious Goldman Environmental Prize. And the third is Peggy M. Shepherd, co-founder and director of We Act for Environmental Justice in Harlem, who received the 2003 Heinz Award for the Environment and who, I’m excited to say, will be speaking with us in a few minutes.
The rest of the article by Bullard and Smith allows Latina, African, and Native American women to speak for themselves about the grass-roots actions they have led across the country. In a certain sense, women’s leadership of the environmental justice movement is the unstated theme of our seminar today. I invite you to keep that theme in mind as we show a short video and then hear from our distinguished speaker, Peggy Shepherd. The video is about grass roots organizing against environmental racism in Chester Pennsylvania, a city on the Delaware River about an hour south of Philadelphia.
Before we begin, let me add that this video has special meaning for me because I was born in Chester, as were my parents. But after World War II, most of the white people moved out, and Chester now has a population that’s 85 percent people of color, and is a leading cancer cluster in the U.S. I also mention this because one of my earliest memories is of watching the smoke billow out of the oil refineries in Chester, back when it was a majority white city. And it happens that my mother, her sister, their mother and I, as well as my aunt’s only son, all have had terrible abdominal cancers caused by a genetic defect, and three of the five of us died from those cancers, the three who spent most of their lives in Chester. Now nobody has proven that the toxic chemicals in the air in Chester caused those genetic defects, but I myself strongly suspect that that’s the case.
I say this because I think it’s a great pity that in the U.S. since World War II, working class white people haven’t realized that they have more in common with people of color, especially with regard to toxic chemicals in the water and the air, than they have in common with rich white people who live up in the mountains or wherever.
So here’s the Chester video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Opr-uzet7Q (9 minutes) and do be sure to notice the significant role women play in the various actions.
Finally, I am honored to introduce Peggy Morrow Shepherd, director and co-founder of We Act for Environmental Justice in Harlem, and recipient of the 10th Annual Heinz Award for the Environment and many other honors. (In case you want to get a sense of our speaker, Peggy Shepherd’s bio is on the We Act webpage at http://www.weact.org/staff-peggy-shepard and her Ted Talk on environmental justice is on YouTube at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zJX_MXaXbJA.
The third session of our luncheon seminar series, on the relationship between climate change and environmental justice, will be held at New York Theological Seminary, 475 Riverside Drive in Manhattan, on Wednesday November 11 from noon to 1:30 PM. Please join us if you can.
Tags: Cross Currents, Grailville, Joe and Sally Cuneen, Mary Louise Birminham, The Grail in the USA, William Birmingham
As baby-boomers like me get older, we increasingly suffer the loss of dear friends and beloved mentors. Of course, it’s not only in the later decades of life that these things happen; one of the Grail women who influenced me most, Eleanor Walker, died in 1979. But it certainly gets more frequent.
Two members of the generation ahead of mine whom I loved dearly were Bill and Mary Louise Birmingham. Life-long New Yorkers and Catholic intellectuals, they encouraged me to pursue the post-working-class life of reading and writing that I yearned for. Mary Louise died four years ago, just short of her ninetieth birthday. Bill followed recently.
The following is a memorial for Bill that I wrote for Gumbo, the newsletter of the Grail in the U.S.
I first met Bill Birmingham and his wife Mary Louise at Grailville in the late 1960s. They were there leading a program; I don’t remember the theme, but I definitely remember them. I still have a copy of a contrapuntal reading that Bill put together for that program or one soon after, about the Holocaust. One side of group read aloud “And praised be the Lord,” and the other side responded “Auschwitz.” And then the first side said again “And praised be the Lord,” and the second side responded, “Buchenwald.” And so on. I can still hear it.
When I moved back to New York from Ohio in 1983 I began going to visit Bill and Mary Louise at their apartment in Stuyvesant Town, on the East Side of Manhattan. They had moved back to the city from New Jersey after their five kids were grown. We became good friends. They were both enormously kind to me. And interesting. And funny.
What I would like to remember about Bill, in particular, today, however, is that he was a significant Catholic intellectual, something that had a major impact on me. Nobody in the working class world I grew up in was editing a major Catholic journal as Bill and his good friends Joe and Sally Cunneen were doing when I knew him. Next to me on my desk here is a volume of articles that had been published in that journal, Cross Currents, between 1950 and 1990. Edited by Bill, the collection includes articles by Karl Rahner, Martin Buber, Jürgen Moltmann, Leonardo Boff, Thomas Berry and others. Under the editorship of Bill and Joe and their predecessors, Cross Currents introduced American Catholics to a wide range of distinguished intellectuals and theologians. I remember how thrilled I was the first time one of my articles appeared in Cross Currents; Bill said that it had “narrative drive.“ I have rarely felt more honored.
In the four years after Mary Louise’s death I also felt deeply honored to be included in the monthly dinner gatherings held by the Birmingham sons, daughters, grandchildren, nieces and nephews at Bill’s apartment in Stuyvesant Town. Even as he aged, Bill was still unfailingly warm, thoughtful, and welcoming. It saddened me when he finally had to move out of the apartment where I had visited with him and Mary Louise for so many years. But I also rejoiced that he was able to spend his final months in the home of his oldest daughter Moira and not far from one of his other daughters, Meg.
How blessed we all were to have had Bill Birmingham in our lives.
Tags: Barry Hudock, Dignitatis Humanae, John Courtney Murray SJ, Struggle Condemnation Vindication
Here’s my National Catholic Reporter review of a new book about John Courtney Murray, the American Jesuit who spearheaded the Vatican II document on religious freedom, and connections between that ground-breaking document and the US Catholic bishops’ recent use of “religious freedom” to undercut the freedom of Catholics and non-Catholics alike.
STRUGGLE, CONDEMNATION, VINDICATION: JOHN COURTNEY MURRAY’S JOURNEY TOWARD VATICAN II
By Barry Hudock
Published by Liturgical Press, $19.95
After four Fortnights for Freedom and multiple Catholic lawsuits over the contraceptive mandate of the Affordable Care Act, an observer might well conclude that religious freedom is a fundamental tenet of the Catholic faith. In Struggle, Condemnation, Vindication, Barry Hudock sets readers straight about how recently the Catholic church came to accept religious freedom at all and the fierce battles that preceded such acceptance.
(Continue reading here.)
Tags: Bishop Nicholas DiMarzio, Fortnight for Freedom, Pope Francis, The Brooklyn Tablet, World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation
Two posts ago, before the crabapple tree and the carrot soup, I shared with you my letter to the Catholic newspaper of the Diocese of Brooklyn, The Tablet, about Bishop Di Marzio’s column on Pope Francis’s encyclical on the environment, Laudato Si’. I said that since the letter hadn’t been published, I would share it with you.
Well, I was wrong. The Tablet actually published the letter on September 2, under the heading “Ecology’s Connectivity.” A friend from Pax Christi had emailed me after she read my post to say that she once sent a letter to The Tablet and concluded after a length of time that they weren’t going to publish it. But some time later, they did. The Tablet is slow to publish letters, at least by today’s high-speed standards. I should have listened to her.
But the publication of my letter suggests something else about The Tablet‘s editors: they don’t have a clue about the significance of Pope Francis’s claim that the environment and consumerism are as morally grave as abortion and contraceptives. Bishop DiMarzio does, though, at least at the unconscious level; that’s why in his column he makes abortion the greatest environmental threat. And I’ll bet the bishop put a lot more energy into the Fortnight for Freedom in June than into the Pope’s World Day of Prayer for the Care of Creation last Tuesday, too.