But Who Will Govern the Climate?

March 10, 2019 at 2:05 pm | Posted in Climate Change | 1 Comment
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Climate Leviathan: A Political Theory of Our Planetary Future. By Geoff Mann and Joel Wainright. New York: Verso Books. 2018. 118 pp. $26.95 (includes free eBook). https://www.versobooks.com/books/2545-climate-leviathan

I begin this review with a warning: Climate Leviathanis a fairly nerdy book. The authors are brilliant political scientists and the argument they make draws on a wide range of challenging scholarship. Yet that argument is really important, so I’m going to discuss it with you.

That’s what book reviews are for, right?

The basic problem Mann and Wainright address in Climate Leviathan is that despite repeated unambiguous warnings from scientists about the dire effects of global warming and multiple meetings between world leaders on the topic, nations have failed to make any headway at mitigating—lessening—greenhouse gas emissions. Because of these failures we are now doomed to exceed the limit of two degrees Celsius, resulting in massive harmful outcomes—sea level rise, droughts, massive fires, extreme weather events. So where does this leave us?

While technocrats advocate physical adaptations to climate change—spraying aerosols into the atmosphere to block out the sun, building tidal walls, etc., Mann and Wainright explain that an effective response to the climate crisis is necessarily political in nature. We have to come to political agreement on a way to enforce change. They draw on Leviathan, the 1652 work of the political philosopher Thomas Hobbes, who argues that without a sovereign power to make and enforce laws, anarchy and violence are inevitable. Leviathan, that sovereign power, is also entitled to declare a “state of exception” in the face of a crisis and then suspend laws and take absolute control. Hobbes’s 20thcentury followers believed that Enlightenment notions of individual freedom led to the chaos of world wars and Nazism. And certainly, the citizens of many nations around the world continue to believe in the sovereign power of their particular nation-state, even as “free” trade agreements and international financial bodies determine more and more of the world’s future.

The climate crisis calls the supposed autonomy of sovereign nation states into question, however, for the simple reason that the environmental behaviors of the citizens of nations and their corporations flow inevitably beyond national borders. Consider the effects of the greenhouse gases from the U.S. and Europe on nations in the Global South. Consider that experts are predicting that there could be as many as a billion climate refugees pouring across national borders by 2050. And then consider the “sovereign” states in the Pacific, the Caribbean and elsewhere that will literally no longer exist by the end of the century because of sea level rise.

In the face of the border-bursting realities of the environmental crisis, Mann and Wainright speculate that one of four new transnational political structures will emerge, replacing the modern capitalist framework of individual sovereign nation-states. The first, the one they find most likely, is Climate Leviathan, a global capitalist system empowered to take drastic action; such a system already exists, at least in embryo, as embodied in in the United Nations COP meetings and the Paris Climate accord. These gatherings are not yet sovereign—with hegemonic power—but they point toward an international sovereignty long predicted.

The second climate sovereign is what the authors call Climate Mao, an anti-capitalist authoritarian socialist entity acting to address climate breakdown, probably through revolutionary developments in Asia where climate change effects will be dire. This is not the present Chinese state, the authors remind us, since it is a major part of the capitalist system, but an entity more like the earlier version under Chairman Mao.

The third sovereign response to climate change Mann and Wainright call Climate Behemoth, a reactionary capitalist populism made up of fossil fuel corporations, middle class reactionaries and enraged working-class people who reject the work of international forums like the 2015 Paris accord in favor of anarchy. The politics of Donald Trump, Jair Bolsinaro and others embody this third option. Climate Behemoth may seem conceivable in the short run, but in the long run, it means disaster.

The fourth Leviathan proposed by Mann and Wainright is Climate X, a bottoms-up people driven power predicated on “equality, democracy and solidarity” and modeled on socialist and indigenous movements that will lead us to live “differently, radically differently.” In some ways, this fourth political sovereign is the least conceivable of the four, perhaps because we the people must come together and determine the specificities of it.

So why should any of this matter to us? For several reasons. First of all, it forces us to realize that the emerging environmental catastrophe is inevitably political. Personal actions are important—giving up meat or disposable plastics—but the environmental crisis is going to have serious collective repercussions, so we have to act politically. Contact your representatives, make phone calls, turn out for demonstrations.

For me, another takeaway from Climate Leviathan is not to be naïve about the current political structures. The 2015 Paris climate accord may have given us hope, as do other international meetings and documents. But they all fall within Climate Leviathan, which is based in the capitalist system that has caused the current crisis because of its demand for endless growth.

Finally, we need to be aware that several of these political models may already be coming together to take control of the future. Trump’s apparent Climate Behemoth, for example, calling for border walls to protect us from the dangers of Latin American migrants, actually reinforces the capitalist Leviathan that has been growing steadily under previous presidencies. The US is steadily expanding its military/security state to exclude climate refugees and imprison US indigenous “terrorists” to protect the fossil fuel industry and the capitalist society that created the climate crisis in the first place. We need to be very, very careful of this Leviathan.

 

This review appeared in the March 2019 issue of Gumbo, the monthly publication off the Grail in the US.

 

March 3 Homily: The Fruit-Filled Tree of Resurrected Wisdom

March 2, 2019 at 11:12 am | Posted in Catholicism | 5 Comments
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I am in the habit of going up to Benincasa, the splendid lay Catholic community on West 70th Street in Manhattan, for a liturgy on the first Sunday of each month. I love the people who live there–Jimmy, Sean and Karen–and the many others who join them for various events. People take turns preaching the sermon as part of the first Sunday liturgy, and it happens that I am giving the homily tomorrow, the last Sunday before the beginning of Lent. I am sharing it with you here. (Participants in the liturgy engage in a discussion after the sermon, hence the question at the end.)

Reading 1: Sirach: 27: 4-7

Reading II: 1 Cor. 15:54-5

Gospel: Lk 6:39-45.

So for the past five weeks, since the 4thSunday in Ordinary Time, we have been reading about Jesus’s ministry in Galilee, and about his recruitment and preparation of disciples to share in that ministry. And for the past two weeks, Jesus’s instruction of the disciples and of the others who have been following him has been quite inspiring. First we had Luke’s version of the Beatitudes, telling us not just that the poor in spirit are blessed, but that the poor themselves are. Then last week, we heard Luke 6, in which the disciples—and we—are urged to love our enemies. The great New Testament scholar Fred Craddock argues that the exhortation in the middle of that passage: “…love your enemies and do good to them…Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful” is the essence of the Christian Gospel.

Without some context, this week’s reading may seem a good bit less inspiring. Jesus is calling on the disciples, and us, not to think too highly of ourselves: don’t be a hypocrite, don’t criticize others when what you are doing is as bad or worse. If you lack discernment, the person you are leading is going to fall into a pit along with you.

Before becoming too discouraged by this, though, it’s helpful to bear in mind here that Jesus has his reasons for leaning harder on his disciples—and on us—than he has been doing. The end of his Galilean ministry is in sight and soon Jesus will be on his way to Jerusalem and the crucifixion. In the Gospel this Wednesday, Ash Wednesday, he will continue to urge his disciples to avoid hypocrisy as he does here—pray and give alms in secret, not in order to receive praise. And next week, he will be leaning on himself to resist temptation as well, going into the desert for forty days to fast and pray.

But even now, it’s not all entirely discouraging, because at the end of this week’s Gospel Luke begins to talk about trees. Now admittedly his discussion of the trees is a bit more black and white than some of us may find entirely helpful: bad trees, bad fruit. And the crucifixion itself will take place on the wood of a tree in six weeks or so. But trees also produce good fruit, as Luke goes on to reminds us,

We actually already encountered this tree-based flash of hope in today’s first reading, taken from the Book of Sirach, —even before Jesus begins warning the disciples about hypocrisy in the Gospel reading. At first, this  earlier reading doesn’t seem a lot more encouraging, nothing more than a sort of prelude to the Gospel’s discourse about hypocrisy: just as  the refuse remains after a sieve is shaken, and what comes out of a person’s reasoning shows who she is, so the fruit of a tree —good or bad—discloses the kind of cultivation a tree has received.

But the Book of Sirach, sometimes called the Book of Ecclesiasticus, is, at least according to the Catholic Church, part of the Wisdom literature of the “Old Testament.” But the Jews don’t consider it part of their Scriptures, and most Protestant denominations don’t either. But Catholics do. And one real advantage to including Sirach in our Scriptures, and thus in the lectionary, is that it includes some theologically important, and beautiful, passages about Sophia, the female figure of Wisdom who vastly expands our vision of God. And one of the most powerful representations of Sophia/Wisdom in the Book of Sirach is Sophia as a tree.

So just after this passage in Sirach in which we encounter a fairly limited representation of a tree, one that only bears good fruit if it is cultivated properly, we hear of the glorious Sophia who has ”taken root in a privileged  people,…grown tall as a cedar on Lebanon, as tall as the rose bushes of Jericho…I have spread my branches like a terebinth…Approach me you who desire me and take your fill of my fruits.” (Sirach 24:1-14).The author of the Book of Sirach knows well that with Sophia much more is possible than sieves full of refuse or the bad fruit of bad trees or, for that matter, from hypocritical disciples.

Indeed, in a few weeks Luke’s Jesus himself will move on from his sermon to the disciples about good and bad fruit to a far less binarized parable, this one about the owner of an orchard who orders his gardener to cut down a fig tree because it has borne no fruit for three years. But the gardener convinces the owner to give the tree another year so he can cultivate the ground around it and fertilize it.

And then just before the Last Supper, Luke’s Jesus tells us an even more inspiring  parable, in which, just as we know that summer is near when  we see the fig tree and every tree in bud, so when the disciples see the things happening that Jesus has been telling them about—signs in the sun and moon and stars, the clamor of the ocean and its waves, –we will know that the kingdom of God is near.

So when Luke goes on later, in Acts, to speak multiple times of Jesus who was slain and hung on a tree, he knows very well that there is more to expect from trees than death and fruitlessness. And so should we, as our Savior, the fruit of the tree of the crucifixion rises up before us on Easter morning.

Let me conclude with a question. At this time, when the dead wood of the cross seems to be everywhere:  with  the Trump administration demonizing our Latinx sisters and brothers and tearing their infants from the  breasts of their mothers; when that same administration, by abandoning crucial treaties, has moved the nuclear doomsday clock closer to midnight than it has been since 1953; and when the United States has withdrawn from global climate change agreements, thus moving us even closer to environmental catastrophe than we already were, what are we to do? What, for you, is the route from the dead wood of this cross to the fruit-filled tree of resurrected Wisdom?

 

 

Mary Robinson on Climate Hope

February 15, 2019 at 12:24 pm | Posted in Climate Change, Environment, women | 2 Comments
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The following is a revised version of a review that appeared in a recent issue of The Irish Edition, a publication based in Philadelphia, and in the newsletters of several groups I belong to. I seem to have forgotten to post it here.

Mary Robinson. Climate Justice: Hope, Resilience, and the Fight for a Sustainable Future. (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2018). 147 pp. $26 hardback; $16 eBook.

In his 2015 encyclical on the environment, Laudato Si’, Pope Francis clearly links the damage we are doing to the earth with harm to the poor, especially those in the Global South. In her new book, Climate Justice, Mary Robinson, former president of Ireland and UN Special Envoy for Climate Change, takes Pope Francis’smessage a galvanizing step forward, telling the stories of some of those global poor and how they are fighting back. These stories draw in the reader in just the way our times demand. Indeed, for Robinson, story-telling is a climate-action strategy.

Robinson begins her book-long network of stories with the birth of her grandson, Rory, in 2003, and her deep concern about the hazards he would likely face by the time he turns fifty: nine billion people battling for food, water and living space.

She goes on to tell eleven other stories, bringing to life some of the world’s most devastating problems. First we meet Constance Okollett, a small-scale farmer from Uganda whose village had been devastated by drought, flash flooding, and extreme variations of the seasons, an embodiment of scientific warnings that Africa will suffer the worst consequences of global warming.

Another absorbing story is that of Sharon Hanshaw, an African American hair-dresser from Mississippi whose experience of Hurricane Katrina led her to organize Coastal Women for Change, a climate justice group to confront the racially-linked federal failures to respond adequately to the hurricane. Then there is Australian Natalie Isaacs who was forced by outbreaks of bush-fires near her home to rethink her leadership of a cosmetics company based in the use of plastic container and to found an on-line organization, 1 Million Women, that helps women around the world monitor and reduce their carbon emissions.

Stories of eight other grassroots leaders, from Alaska, to New Brunswick, Canada, to Vietnam to the Pacific island nation of Kitibati, are threaded throughout Climate Justice. And all but two of Robinson’s stories are about women grassroots climate change leaders, because “It is women who bear the brunt of climate change.” Another great strength of the book is its emphasis on the pivotal role played by indigenous communities in the struggle for climate justice.

Given the dire report from the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) last October, that our planetary debt is going to come due far sooner than previously predicted unless we massively reduce our greenhouse emissions, it’s not easy to feel hopeful. And although her book was published before the IPCC report, Robinson doesn’t pull her punches about many aspects of the current situation, for example, that a billion acres of tropical forests have been razed since 1975 for timber, mining, and development, when such razing releases six times as much carbon dioxide into the atmosphere as fossil fuel emissions. Robinson also notes the enormous harm done to the environment by military violence, for example, the four thousand square miles of forests destroyed by defoliants used by the US military during the Vietnam War. Conflict between nations over the climate refugee crisis is another serious concern.

Yet for all the sobering information it coveys about the impacts of climate change, the primary effect of Creation Justice, as its subtitle suggests, is to inspire hope. And even for a cynic like me, who does not share Robinson’s optimism that markets will cushion the essential replacement of fossil fuels with renewable energy, her absorbing narrative of grassroots, for the most part women, activists leading the climate liberation front around the world gives me great hope. I suspect it will do so for you as well.

 

 

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Would Jesus Condition His Hair?

February 4, 2019 at 12:47 pm | Posted in Capitalism, Climate Change | 2 Comments
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If you read my previous post, the review of  Bryant Holsenbeck’s book on how to give up disposable plastics, you might have gotten the impression that my interest in the topic was theoretical.

Actually, it’s personal.

After the report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change last October, which clarified the dire climate situation we are in if we don’t change our ways, I decided that writing about all this isn’t enough. First of all, I decided to eat way less meat. That hasn’t been so hard. Our food co-op sells all kinds of bean burgers and tofu turkey. Some of it actually tastes good.

The other area that I decided demands behavior change was—you guessed it—plastics. For years I believed that since New York City picks up and “recycles” plastics, my extensive use of them didn’t really matter. Then I learned that a lot of the “recycled” plastics were being shipped to and landfilled in other countries, not recycled. And only 9% of disposable plastics ever get recycled in any case.

Some of the changes I undertook weren’t terribly hard: I stopped buying a tub of pre-washed mixed lettuces once or twice a week and instead bought, washed and sliced heads of lettuce. When I couldn’t find the salad dressing I wanted in glass, I made it myself. We began buying locally produced milk in glass bottles at the green market, though they cost twice as much as the milk in plastic bottles at the supermarket. The challenge with all of this, of course, is the inconvenience. How much time do I want to spend washing lettuce or making my own salad dressing? Notre Dame Philosopher Ken Sayre targets our obsession with convenience as a major cause of the environmental crisis.

The dimension of disposable plastic that’s more challenging has to do with health care, especially as a person gets older. My prescription medications all come in plastic bottles, and I have a hunch CVS isn’t likely to be switching to non-plastic containers any time soon. My receding gums require cleaning out with dental tape and an electric toothbrush, available only in plastic, and the mouthwash for my dry mouth doesn’t come in glass either.

Then there’s personal appearance. I was a fat, homely young person, and my appearance is important to me. I did stop buying make-up, but as for my hair…a friend in Australia l suggested that I wash my hair with bicarbonate of soda and condition it with cider vinegar. I freaked out at the very idea. I need my conditioner! As a Christian, I was ashamed: would Jesus condition his hair? In the midst of this ethical conundrum, I made the wonderful discovery of a company called Lush that produces shampoo, conditioner, and other personal care products in bar form. And they have four stores in Manhattan!!!

Bryant Holsenbeck’s advice in The Last Straw was a great help to me as I waded through all this: do what you can, she writes. Just keep at it.

But I then read something that took me a step farther than Holsenbeck’s sensible advice about reducing my use of disposable plastic. A January 21 article in The Guardian reported on a new global alliance of businesses that, in the face of the growing crisis of plastic waste around the world, has committed $1 billion over the next five years to reduce the amount of such waste and improve recycling. The largest signatories to the agreement, however, including Shell, Exxon Mobil, Saudi Arabia’s state oil company Saudi Aramco and others, are at the same time investing multi-billions of dollars to build plastic production factories around the world, as fracked gas production cuts into crude oil profits. About 8 million tons of plastic waste continues to be dumped into the sea annually, “choking fish, destroying marine habitats, and entering the food chain.” The head of an environmental NGO focused on plastics said, “river and beach cleanups would not work” as long as there is a steady stream of new plastics being produced.

Neither, in and of themselves, will my efforts and those of Bryant Holsenbeck. Or as a logic professor once explained to be, these actions are “necessary but not sufficient.” Along with cutting back on our use of disposable plastics, we have to turn out onto the streets, and at politicians’ offices, and at board meetings, to demand real changes in the profit-making system that is driving the climate crisis. Jesus may not condition his hair, but I am fairly certain he expects strong political action from us on behalf of God’s threatened creation.

This blog post is a slightly revised version of an article that appeared in the February issue of Gumbo, the monthly publication of the Grail in the US, the women’s movement I’ve been involved in for fifty-four years.

Plastic, Plastic Everywhere and…?

January 5, 2019 at 4:18 pm | Posted in Climate Change, Environment, world water crisis | 3 Comments
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The Last Straw: A Continuing Quest for Life without Disposable Plastic. By Bryant Holsenbeck. Durham, North Carolina: The Resource Center for Woman and Ministry in the South, 2018. Paper. 169 pp. $25 (includes tax and shipping). https://rcwms.org/product/the-last-straw-a-continuing-quest-for-life-without-disposable-plastic/

The Grail, the women’s movement I have been part of since 1965, had been involved in the back to the land movement since the 1940s, so I had long been aware of the importance of the land, and of sustainable agriculture. But I began reading, writing and teaching intensively about the planet’s dire environmental situation after attending a week-long program on the world water crisis with Maude Barlow, the Canadian water activist, at the Chautauqua Institution in upstate New York in 2001. Barlow basically scared the bejesus out of me.

Recently, however, I have also become aware that the strategy Barlow used, and that had such a  big impact on me—laying out the horrifying facts about the situation—for many, or even most people, simply doesn’t work. For example, there was my attempt to get the new pastor at my parish here in Brooklyn to place more emphasis on climate change in sermons and religious education. When I told him that scientists are predicting that if the temperatures continue to go up at the current rate, we face the end of civilization by 2100, he told me I was the kind of crazy person who believes the end times are coming.

Then there was my article in the September 2018 issue of the Grail’s national publication about how flying is unethical because of the huge amount of greenhouse gases emitted by airplanes. Two Grail members, whose different projects I cited as examples of how much we in the Grail fly, wrote to accuse me of being against their particular effort. Then two weeks later a very dear Grail friend, whose work for the Grail in Tanzania I admire enormously, sent out an invitation for US members to travel to East Africa to learn more about the Grail there. I was fairly certain she wasn’t proposing that they travel there by boat.

Basically, almost everyone with whom I share the increasingly dire information about climate change and environmental degradation tells me that my critique can’t apply to them because what they’re involved in is too important.

I have concluded that I need to find another approach, and that that approach needs to have two characteristics: it must involve storytelling, and the stories need to be beautiful or seriously creative in some other way.

******************************************************

Given this evolution in my thinking, to say that I was thrilled by Bryant Holsenbeck’s new book, The Last Straw, is to vastly understate the case. Holsenbeck is an environmental artist who became curious about where all the plastic we throw away actually goes. She discovered that there is no “away”—it’s ending up in landfills and clogging our streams and oceans.

She decided, as a result, to give up single use plastics for a year, hard as doing that might be. Then she blogged about the experience. Now the Resource Center for Women and Ministry in the South has published those blog posts in a splendid, beautiful volume, The Last Straw.

Bryant Holsenbeck is by no means the only, or even the first person to write a book about giving up single-use plastic. Already in 2012 Beth Terry, a Bay Area accountant, published Plastic Free: How I Kicked the Plastic Habit and How You Can Too and blogs to keep people up to date. But Terry pretty much belongs to the strategy school that I have resigned from: telling readers everything there is to know about the plastics crisis and trusting that that info will motivate them—us—to follow her in giving up plastic.

Bryant Holsenbeck, however, is an artist, so her strategy is quite different. To begin with, the book is illustrated with pictures of the gorgeous art that Holsenbeck has been making out of discarded trash, and now especially discarded plastic, over the years.

Furthermore, instead of primarily confronting us with the statistics that activists like Beth Terry and I favor, Holsenbeck tells wonderful, engaging stories of her year of giving up plastic, and her visits to schools in North Carolina and neighboring states where she teaches students how to make the discarded plastic they have been gathering into works of art. In the course of telling these stories, she offers tidbits of encouragement—a recipe for how to make your own yogurt, for example, or a poem about a red wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams as she recalls her wonderful experiences of composting. And underpinning it all, again and again, is Holsenbeck’s philosophy that it’s the things we can do that are important, not achieving perfection. Such a philosophy is unbelievably encouraging. Even the fact that Holsenbeck undertakes living without disposable plastics for just a year will be encouraging for some of us—though in the end, she decides she can never go back.

Of course, some of us may be ready to plunge right in, in which case, Plastic Free, with its trove of information on the evils of plastic and alternatives to it may be what just what’s needed. But if you would prefer to wade gradually into warmer water and to view a gorgeous landscape on the way, The Last Straw is definitely the book for you.

 

This review is a slightly revised version of a review that appeared in the January 2019 issue of Gumbo, the monthly publication of the Grail in the US.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Climate Justice

December 8, 2018 at 12:43 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

 

Mary Robinson. Climate Justice: Hope, Resilience, and the Fight for a Sustainable Future. (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2018). 147 pp. $26 hardback; $16 eBook.

 

In his 2015 encyclical on the environment, Laudato Si’, Pope Francis clearly links the damage we are doing to the earth with harm to the poor, especially those in the Global South. In her new book, Climate Justice, Mary Robinson, former president of Ireland and UN Special Envoy for Climate Change, takes that message a galvanizing step forward, telling the stories of some of those global poor and how they are fighting back. These stories draw in the reader in just the way our times demand. Indeed, for Robinson, story-telling is a climate-action strategy.

Robinson begins her book-long network of stories with the birth of her grandson, Rory, in 2003, and her deep concern about the hazards he would likely face by the time he turns fifty: nine billion people battling for food, water and living space.

She goes on to tell eleven other stories, bringing to life some of the world’s most devastating problems. First we meet Constance Okollett, a small-scale farmer from Uganda whose village had been devastated by drought, flash flooding, and extreme variations of the seasons, an embodiment of scientific warnings that Africa will suffer the worst consequences of global warming.

Another absorbing story is that of Sharon Hanshaw, an African American hair-dresser from Mississippi whose experience of Hurricane Katrina led her to organize Coastal Women for Change, a climate justice group to confront the racially-linked federal failures to respond adequately to the hurricane. Then there is Australian Natalie Isaacs who was forced by outbreaks of bush-fires near her home to rethink her leadership of a cosmetics company based in the use of plastic containers and to found an on-line organization, 1 Million Women, that helps women around the world monitor and reduce their carbon emissions.

Stories of eight other grassroots leaders, from Alaska, to New Brunswick, Canada, to Vietnam to the Pacific island nation of Kitibati, are threaded throughout Climate Justice. And all but two of Robinson’s stories are about women grassroots climate change leaders, because “It is women who bear the brunt of climate change.” Another great strength of the book is its emphasis on the pivotal role played by indigenous communities in the struggle for climate justice.

Given the dire report from the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC) last October, that our planetary debt is going to come due far sooner than previously predicted unless we massively reduce our greenhouse emissions, it’s not easy to feel hopeful. And although her book was published before the IPCC report, Robinson doesn’t pull her punches about many aspects of the current situation, for example, that a billion acres of tropical forests have been razed since 1975 for timber, mining, and development, when such razing releases six times as much carbon dioxide into the atmosphere as fossil fuel emissions. Robinson also notes the enormous harm done to the environment by military violence, for example, the four thousand square miles of forests destroyed by defoliants used by the US military during the Vietnam War. Conflict between nations over the climate refugee crisis is another serious concern.

Yet for all the sobering information it coveys about the impacts of climate change, the primary effect of Creation Justice, as its subtitle suggests, is to inspire hope. And even for a cynic like me, who does not share Robinson’s optimism that markets will cushion the essential replacement of fossil fuels with renewable energy, her absorbing narrative of grassroots, for the most part women, activists leading the climate liberation front around the world gives me great hope. I suspect it will do so for you as well.

 

Versions of this review appear  in December 2018 issues of The Irish Edition ((Philadelphia), Gumbo, the monthly publication of the U.S. Grail, and in Kerux, the quarterly publication of Pax Christi New York Metro.

After Pittsburgh

November 5, 2018 at 12:59 pm | Posted in antisemitism, Catholicism, Judaism, racism,, Uncategorized | 3 Comments
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Last Thursday, five days after a white nationalist killed eleven Jews and three others in a synagogue in the Squirrel Hill section of Pittsburgh, was All Saints Day, one of my favorite feasts. Priests from a new Jesuit ministry, the Jesuits of Brooklyn, have been celebrating some of the liturgies at my diocesan parish, Our Lady of Refuge, and one of them said the 9 AM Mass that I attended that day.

I was deeply grateful to the priest, who shall go unidentified, for immediately starting his sermon by addressing the massacre in Pittsburgh, which has been characterized as the worst anti-semitic hate crime in US history. After describing what happened, he went on to remind the congregation that some of the most important figures in the New Testament were Jews: Jesus, and Mary, and Joseph, and Mary’s parents, and her cousin Elizabeth, and St. Paul, among others. He then told a story about sitting near a young Orthodox Jewish man wearing a yarmulke and tallits (tassels) while riding on the subway soon after the murders and expressing his deep sympathy to him. He also asked the young man how he was doing, and the young man replied that his people were told to do one act for the good of the world every day. Our preacher was moved by this response. He then urged the congregation to reach out to Jews at this dreadful time, something that is much more possible to do in our religiously and racially diverse Brooklyn neighborhood than in other parts of the country.

As I said to the Jesuit afterwards, it was extremely meaningful to me that he directly addressed such a devastating event.  I had attended the Jesuit church of St. Francis Xavier in Manhattan for a while in 2017 but ceased to do so when the pastor there, an artist and musician, got up and gave a beautifully prepared sermon the morning after the Charlottesville riot without ever mentioning it. My hunch is that he had already written his beautiful sermon and didn’t want to mess it up with bad news.

But as I said to the preacher at Our Lady of Refuge, as grateful as I was that he had addressed the murders in Pittsburgh, there’s one small problem with what he said, or rather, what he didn’t say. The Christian tradition, and particularly the teaching of Jewish “deicide,” that with the crucifixion the Jews killed God in the person of Jesus Christ, is the historic root of antisemitism. In particular, the supposed act of deicide is inscribed in Matthew 27:24-25:

24 When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere, but that instead an uproar was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd. “I am innocent of this man’s blood,” he said. “It is your responsibility!”
25 All the people answered, “His blood is on us and on our children!

Many Scripture scholars and historians now argue that this isn’t what happened; that only a very few Jewish leaders may have been involved in Jesus’s death, and that the author of Matthew’s Gospel fictionalized this part of the story. And at the Second Vatican Council (1962-1965), the Catholic Church renounced this teaching, as have a number of other Christian churches. It could also be argued that if Christianity had not happened, with the conversion of Constantine in the early fourth century,  to become the dominant religion of the Roman Empire,–if Christianity had remained a minor religious sect split off from Judaism–the horrific impact of antisemitism might never have occurred.

But Christianity did become the dominant religion of the Roman Empire, and it went on teaching the “blood libel”–that Jesus’s blood is on the Jewish people–for a millennium and a half after Constantine. It’s hard to believe that Hitler, a baptized Catholic, didn’t pick up some of his antisemitism from this tradition. And the Catholic Church continues to read those verses  from St. Matthew’s passion during Holy Week, as well as other New Testament passages that echo its hostility, throughout the year.

So speaking in a kindly way on the subway to a young man in a yarmulke after an antisemitic bloodbath is a fine thing to do. But something more is required: preachers must address those passages after they are read at Mass, explaining the harm that they have done, and repenting of them on behalf of the Church. And if they don’t address the Christian antisemitic complicity inscribed in those texts, the people in the pews need to call them out for failing to do so

 

Teenage Innocence

October 4, 2018 at 2:01 pm | Posted in racism,, Uncategorized, women | 5 Comments
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I have been trying to stay out of the discussion over Brett Kavanaugh; surely enough has been said without the addition of my two cents.

But one element of the conversation, not to say brawl, that caught my attention was the assertion by some that the actions of a person during his (I use the word advisedly) teenage years shouldn’t be held against him. I sat up straight when I heard that because trying teenagers as adults has been a major component  of the US criminal (so-called) justice system, especially since the year 2000. Admittedly, there have been legislative moves recently to roll some of this back, but there are still many thousands of juveniles who have been tried as adults in this country; a good number of them are in prison right now. And I’m sure you will be shocked! shocked! to hear that a disproportionate number of these juveniles are black or brown.

The day after I had been thinking about all this I was down on the living room floor doing the exercises for my deteriorating back disc while listening to “Democracy Now” with Amy Goodman, and presto! Goodman  began talking about the same thing: the claims that the accusations against Kavanaugh were over-the-top because he had been a mere teenager when whatever happened happened. She then interviewed three activists involved in the educational justice movement, which, among other things, fights the “school to prison pipeline.”  But what blew me away about that particular news segment was that the activists Goodman interviewed explained that the “school-to-prison pipeline” did not begin with teenagers being tried as adults but with pre-school students–three and four-year olds–being suspended for misbehavior. And kids who have been suspended earlier in school, we learned, are much more likely to end up in prison later in life. And guess who the vast majority of pre-K kids thus suspended are? Black and brown boys.

Now let me clarify a few things here. I have a lot of sympathy for teachers trying to keep control in the classroom. I taught school for three years, between 1970 and 1975, and it was the hardest work I have ever done. And I was teaching the fourth grade–nine and ten-year olds. I simply cannot imagine trying to work with pre-schoolers.

I should also admit that the hardest of my three years as a teacher was in a Black parent-run community school in Harlem, though part of the reason for that was that there were 40 kids in the class, while the other two classes I taught had 20 and 12 students respectively, and most of them were white. I was also fairly clueless about inner city culture.

But the real reason for my difficulty, in Harlem and the other two schools, was that I just wasn’t very good at teaching kids. And as I am given to saying, one day the Lord Jesus appeared to me and said,”Marian, you are terrible at this!! Stop it!” So I did.

This leads us back to the very idea of three and four-year olds getting suspended, or even eight or nine-year olds for that matter. And they are not getting suspended for bringing guns to school, or even fighting; they’re getting suspended for “insubordination” and “defying authority,” an interpretation of behavior common to children that age that is applied to kids–boys–of color much more often than to white boys.  What does it do to a kid’s attitudes and expectations if he gets suspended at the age of four?

This brings us back to the national conversation about Brett Kavanaugh. Americans may, and do, hold different positions regarding the accusations against him. But surely we can all grasp the hypocrisy involved in suggesting that such actions shouldn’t be held against a privileged white teenager when three and four-year old children are getting suspended for talking back to a quite possibly incompetent teacher?

 

 

 

 

Crucified by Racism

August 25, 2018 at 10:39 am | Posted in Christian theology,, colonization,, racism,, religion | 3 Comments

 

The following is my review of a new book on the relationship between Christian theology and racism by Fordham theologian Jeannine Hill Fletcher. It appears in the August 24-September 6 issue of the National Catholic Reporter.

THE SIN OF WHITE SUPREMACY: CHRISTIANITY, RACISM, & RELIGIOUS DIVERSITY IN AMERICA
By Jeannine Hill Fletcher
194 pages; Orbis Books, 2017. $28.00.

Never for a moment did I buy the notion that with the election of Barack Obama as president, the United States had become a “post-racial” society. But even for a skeptic like me, the statistics from the 2016 presidential election were difficult to absorb: Eighty-one percent of white evangelical Christians and 60 percent of white Catholics voted for Donald Trump. How could Christians vote for such an unabashedly racist candidate?

As we attempt to answer that question, it’s hard to imagine anything timelier than Jeannine Hill Fletcher’s new book. In The Sin of White Supremacy: Christianity, Racism, & Religious Diversity in America, Hill Fletcher draws on her expertise in interreligious theology as well as extensive research into the history of Euro-American Christianity to lay out the devastating connections between Christian theology and the ideologies of racial supremacy that underpin our current political crisis.

Then, thank God, she presents a theological paradigm to help us move toward racial and religious transformation.

(Continue reading on the NCR webpage).

 

 

 

Revisiting Dorothy Day

July 9, 2018 at 2:31 pm | Posted in Catholicism, feminism, war and violence | 4 Comments
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Because of my half-century of participation in the Grail movement, I have always felt related to Dorothy Day. The first recorded contact between the Grail and American Catholics was a 1936 letter to her from the co-founder of the US Grail, Lydwine van Kersbergen. In 1943, with the Grail planted in the Midwest, Day, on sabbatical from the Catholic Worker, participated in a three-week Grail program on rural living, liturgy, and the women’s apostolate. Later she made a silent retreat at Super Flumina, the Grail’s farm in Foster, Ohio.

My personal contacts with Day were limited. She spoke at a meeting of the Catholic Art Association—or maybe it was the Catholic Art Guild, since the Art Association shut down in 1970––during one of the summers that I spent at Grailville, the Grail’s farm and conference center near Cincinnati, when I was still a fourth-grade teacher. Her talk followed the showing of a short art film, “Two Men and a Wardrobe.”* My recollection is that Day was quite dismissive of the film, something that led me to categorize her as a crabby, old-fashioned Church type; I was in my mid-twenties at the time and not very forgiving.

I also wrote to Day in 1975, after I had become a full-time member of the Grailville staff, asking if she would send me a copy of the Muslim “Ninety-Nine Names of God” that another Grail member, recently home from Egypt, had given her. She responded,

Sorry. Those 99 Names have disappeared from my treasure box, though the beads remain. My bedroom is always used in my peregrinations, so things disappear, are ripped off, liberated, to use the language of the young. My love to all there. –– In Christ––Dorothy.

The message came on a postcard bearing the kind of dramatic woodcut, this one by Antonio Frasconi, that appeared frequently in the Catholic Worker. Eventually I had the postcard framed archivally, to preserve it. When I show it to visitors I tell them that if Dorothy is canonized, it will become a second-class relic, a comment that baffles most of them.

All the rest of my “encounters” with Dorothy have taken place since her death in 1980. One was reading the letter from Cardinal John O’Connor to the Vatican nominating Day for canonization. It highlights, as a reason for her canonization, Day’s repentance for the abortion she underwent she became a Catholic. Later, Cardinal Timothy Dolan, at an event in Day’s honor at St. Joseph’s in Greenwich Village, the church where Day was baptized, described her as an “obedient daughter of the Church.” I was well past my mid-twenties by then, but my responses to these statements were still not very forgiving. With regard to Day’s obedience to the Church, for example, I thought: except for the cemetery workers’ strike, where Day and her Catholic Worker colleagues picketed against the strike breakers brought in by the Archdiocese.

Most recently, my encounters with Day include reading Jim Forest’s biography, All is Grace (Orbis 2011). I have had it in my head for years to write a book about Joan of Arc, Thérèse of Lisieux, and Day, because of the strong but seemingly unlikely connections between them––Thérèse the ascetic having written a play about Joan the warrior, and Day, the pacifist, devoted to Joan as well, then writing a book about Thérèse. Forest’s book is part of the material I’ve been accumulating for the project.

Forest is a terrific writer, and I learned a great deal from his biography that I had not known about Day. For one thing, I learned that she really was in many respects a traditional, if also utterly committed, Catholic. She was also a fairly judgmental individual, a sin she confessed again and again. So my evaluation of her in the 1970s was not entirely mistaken.

I also learned that Day really was an obedient daughter of the Church, frequently following the directions she received from bishops and priests—though she was by no means naïve about the sins of the institution.

I even learned that Day really did seriously regret—repent of—her abortion, though whether she would want to be remembered for that before anything else is another question. Indeed, she objected strongly to any suggestion that she was a saint, believing it undercut the Catholic Worker’s fundamental commitment to egalitarianism and denial of self.

Perhaps the most important insight I took away from reading Forest’s biography, however, is that precisely because of her high level of Christian commitment and the strength of her positions, Dorothy Day may well be exactly the kind of role model needed in this difficult time. In the midst of the environmental crisis that engulfs us, for example, I look around our apartment and wonder why in hell I ever bought all these clothes, these books, those items of kitchen ware, and I find myself deeply inspired by Day’s poverty and self-abnegation.

As I observe the chaos that paralyzes many of the groups I belong to, underpinned by the individualism and expectations of gratification by so many in my generation, I find myself profoundly challenged by Day’s concern with and obedience to authority, however communal her understanding of it was.

And when I am too lazy to turn out for public demonstrations, or too afraid of being arrested, I remember Day’s endless commitment to social action, and her many stays in jail.

Could it be, I find myself wondering, that the woman I once dismissed as too traditional a Catholic and too judgmental a person is exactly the model––the saint––we need as we face the crises that confront us?

 

Versions of this post appeared in EqualwRites, the newsletter of the Southeastern Pennsylvania Women’s Ordination Conference and Gumbo the monthly publication of the Grail in the US.)

 

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