Thomas Merton on God's Judgment of Democracy--Words to the Surveillance State

It is coming to this:

Since the 2008 economic crash, security agencies have increasingly spied on political activists, especially environmental groups, on behalf of corporate interests. This activity is linked to the last decade of US defence planning, which has been increasingly concerned by the risk of civil unrest at home triggered by catastrophic events linked to climate change, energy shocks or economic crisis - or all three....

The Pentagon knows that environmental, economic and other crises could provoke widespread public anger toward government and corporations in coming years. The revelations on the NSA's global surveillance programmes are just the latest indication that as business as usual creates instability at home and abroad, and as disillusionment with the status quo escalates, Western publics are being increasingly viewed as potential enemies that must be policed by the state.

Every now and then I open one of my favorite books and randomly select a passage to read and contemplate.  Today it was Thomas Merton's Reflections of a Guilty Bystander, and the passage I landed on relates directly to the above story.  Merton wrote:

Not realizing itself to be on trial, assuming its own infallibility and perfection, Western democracy has resented every attempt to question these things. The mere idea that it might come under judgment has seemed absurd, unjust, diabolical. Our democracy is now being judged, not by man but by God. It is not simply being judged by the enemies of the West and of "democracy." When anyone is judged by God, he receives, in the very hour of judgment, a gift from God. The gift that is offered him, in his judgment, is truth. He can receive the truth or reject it; but in any case truth is being offered silently, mercifully, in the very crisis by which democracy is put to the test....

When one is on trial in this life, he is at the same time receiving mercy: the merciful opportunity to anticipate God's decision by receiving the light of truth, judging himself, changing his life. Democracy has been on trial in Berlin, in Alabama, in Hiroshima. In World War II. In World War I. In the Boer War. In the American Civil War. In the Opium War. What have we learned about ourselves? What have we seen? What have we admitted? What is the truth about us? Perhaps we still have time, still have a little light to see by. But the judgment is getting very dark....The truth is too enormous, too ominous, to be seen in comfort. Yet it is a great mercy of God that so many of us can recognize this fact, and that we are still allowed to say it.

How long will we still be allowed to say it, without incurring the wrath of those desperately clinging to power?

Nearly half a century ago, Merton wrote that Western democracy is stricken to its very core by a "void", which I described last summer as "the void that contradicts everything our leaders say even before their words leave their mouths, the void that turns our pursuit of entertainment and sensation into a hollow pleasure, the void that nobody wants to name, much less face." He called this void "The Unspeakable."

Democracy is on trial from the Amazonian basin to the Arctic Circle.  Democracy is on trial from the Caribbean to the South Pacific.  Democracy is on trial in poverty-stricken areas all over the world.  Democracy is on trial in every place where profit and power are placed ahead of people and planet.

From Morning Prayer on Monday, Psalm 50:

God says to the wicked:

"But how can you recite my commandments
and take my covenant on your lips,
you who despise my law
and throw my words to the winds....

You do this, and should I keep silence?
Do you think that I am like you?"

Judgment comes in the form of a gift, says Merton, the gift of truth.  Are we willing to face difficult truths about our lifestyles and about our economic and political systems, or will we continue to be so eager to reconcile ourselves to the expectations of  others that we choose to make our home in the nest of The Unspeakable?

If You Want to Build a Ship: Antoine de Saint Exupery

The photo is courtesy of Manjana Milkoreit.  Visit her Flickr page:  http://www.flickr.com/photos/manjana/page1/

Thanks to my friend Lucie Edwards for sending me the quote, then the photo, then arranging permission to use it!

When Was the Last Time?

When was the last time you blew the seeds off a dandelion?
When was the last time you walked barefoot on the lawn, or on a beach?

When was the last time you watched a robin pause, cock its head, then plunge its head down into the grass and come up with a worm?

When was the last time you put your hands on a tree, or sat against one, or climbed one?

When was the last time you watched ants go about their business?
When was the last time you listened to the hum of a bee?

When was the last time you closed your eyes and felt the breeze on your face?
When was the last time you watched the sky and identified the shapes of clouds?

When was the last time you walked through a puddle, rather than around it?
When was the last time you smelled the rain?

When was the last time you were alive?

Pick one.  Go outside.  Do it.  And welcome back to the land of the living.

Empty Your Cup, and Become What You Receive

The Gospel this weekend is about the miracle of the loaves and the fishes.  Here's what I'm preaching.  (You can find the readings here.)  If you're coming to this on the main page, the first half is below, so look for the "read more" link to continue:

***

Eric Immel, a second year novice with the Jesuits, has spent the past five months on the Rosebud Indian Reservation in South Dakota. One of his responsibilities has been to offer a Communion service at the tribal nursing home. Recently, he learned that many of these Lakota Sioux elders have loved ones buried in a parish cemetery seven miles away, and they are sad because they are too fragile to go and visit the graves. So Eric offered to go on their behalf. He took down the names of their family and friends, and promised to walk through the cemetery and pray at each of the graves.

When he got to the cemetery, though, his nice idea was confronted by a painful reality. A group of Lakota Sioux was there, and they had been drinking. Waving him over, they began to call him nasty names, and to attack the church for all the terrible abuses that had occurred over the decades at the mission school on the reservation.

Eric didn’t know what to do. Looking for a way out, he simply changed the topic, and asked them what brought them to the cemetery that afternoon. One woman, who choked up as she responded, said, “We’re visiting our kids that have passed.” Eric said, “Well, may I join you?”

He describes what happened next as one of the most remarkable experiences of his time on the reservation, a defining moment that has strengthened his vocation. Together, Eric and what he calls a “rag tag group of mourners” slowly processed around the cemetery, stopping to pray at the tombstones of children, brothers and sisters, parents, grandparents, other relatives and friends. He joined them to pray for their loved ones, and they joined him to pray for the loved ones of the tribal elders in the nursing home. He said it was “an afternoon of sadness, joy, peace, reconciliation, and reality.”

In today’s Gospel, Jesus multiplies the loaves and the fishes in order to feed the thousands of hungry people before him. And then he gives the food to the disciples and has them give it to the rest of the people. It is the same today. We have the privilege of receiving the body and blood of Christ at this mass. Christ gives himself to us not simply for our individual sake, however, but so that we, like the disciples, may bring this spiritual nourishment to all those we encounter.

St. Augustine put it like this: “Become what you receive.” We receive the body of Christ so that we may better become the body of Christ—so that when people encounter us they encounter a living expression of God’s own kindness.

How do we better become what we receive? We often talk about picking up our cross and following Jesus, but on this feast of his Body and Blood it is good to use another way Jesus talked about it: drinking from his cup. To drink from his cup is to accept his invitation to give ourselves to others in service. Jesus did this to the point of shedding his own blood, but for us it usually means shedding our self-centered desires.

For Him Who Rides on the Clouds

Bear Island Lake, near Ely, MN, August 2, 2010

Yesterday the Office of Readings presented Psalm 68, broken into three parts. Praying outside on the patio on a windy morning, clouds parading across the sun, this line in particular spoke to me:

Make a highway for him who rides on the clouds.

Second part first: "for him who rides on the clouds."  The psalm makes it clear this describes the Lord, but the intended image isn't necessarily of a Super Being clothed in radiant garments, skin shining like the sun.  The Lord comes daily, in fact continuously, clothed in humility, so hidden that we can only perceive the Creator in the ordinary grace of the created world.  The Lord rides to us on the clouds, caresses us in the breeze, speaks words of revelation in the languages of trees and birds.

To miss all these blessings is such a sad thing!  How is it that so many pore over the words of the psalms in the Daily Office, yet do not hear the sacred words sung by the robin after a spring storm?  How can it be possible for people to study the Gospels in black and white, and yet not recognize the Good News proclaimed all around them in wood and field?  How can those who fall to their knees in worship inside a church stay standing when the Lord comes riding on the clouds into the sanctuary of his creation?

He comes riding on the clouds, looking for all who might receive him, bringing gifts of love, peace, awe, wonder, connectedness, joy, and so much more.  Things we all want.  Things we can all have.  Things we keep missing because we have forgotten.  We have forgotten the languages of trees and birds, we have forgotten the mystery that permeates all things, and we have forgotten our own place in the world.  Forgotten who we are.

Make a highway.  Open up your heart and make a highway.  Let the mystery enter, riding on the clouds.  Let your heart be still, your busyness slow down to a ripple, and wait.  Make a highway for him who rides on the clouds.  He will come, clothed in humility like the last light of day.  He will come bearing gifts.  Open them and give thanks!

The Dreaming Fields

Lake Superior, 1961, age 4

Wind-swept lakes.  Rocky shorelines.  Wide-open spaces.  I was always looking outward, and seeing inward.  A dreamer from the get-go, watching, listening--an outsider in a world that seemed always in such a hurry.  And while my parents did not understand this, they also took me to one place of natural beauty after another, where wild, native seeds were carried by the Spirit Wind and planted in the garden of my soul.

I am looking back this week because I have just completed my 25th year as a college professor and my 56th year as a human being, and because just a week-and-a-half ago I officiated at a niece's wedding, and this past weekend watched one of my children graduate from college.

Alberta, 1963, age 6

Haunting me all week has been a song called "The Dreaming Fields," by Matraca Berg.  I love every song on her album of the same title, but this one has special meaning for me at the moment.  She sings of her grandfather's farm and the life she experienced as a little girl, spending summers running free in the fields, and how that is all gone now as houses grow like weeds where once were corn and trees.  It is a song of gratitude for her experiences on the farm, and a song of sorrow over all the losses--not only loved ones, but the land itself, engulfed by suburban sprawl.  Above all, it is a realization that the seeds planted in her as a girl can still bear fruit today, and so she returns to the bittersweet memories of the dreaming fields and asks: what will be her harvest now?

Northern Minnesota, 1967, age 10

It is not simply a place itself that captures our hearts, opens us, shapes us and propels us.  Whatever magic a place works on us happens in relationship.  The places of my childhood and youth that impacted my life all come with memories of family.  When I go back to them--whether in person or just in my mind--I enter my own dreaming fields, and the people associated with them come back to me, in a sense.  And, like Matraca Berg, I not only look back in gratitude tinged by sadness over the losses, I also recognize how those before me helped plant all these seeds in me.  And I wonder: what will be my harvest now?

What places have shaped your life?  What people?  How have they interacted?  For what are you grateful?  And what will be your harvest now?

Listen to Matraca sing her song, accompanied by this video that merges place and people in her life.  Below the video you can see the lyrics.

THE DREAMING FIELDS
BY MATRACA BERG/GARY HARRISON

OH, THE SUN ROLLS DOWN, BIG AS A MIRACLE
AND FADES FROM THE MIDWEST SKY
AND THE CORN AND THE TREES WAVE IN THE BREEZE
AS IF TO SAY GOODBYE

OH, MY GRANDFATHER STOOD RIGHT HERE AS A YOUNGER MAN
IN NINETEEN AND FORTY THREE
AND WITH THE SWEAT AND HIS TEARS, THE RAIN AND THE YEARS
HE GREW LIFE FROM THE SOIL AND SEED
OH…

CHORUS:
I’M GOIN’ DOWN TO THE DREAMING FIELDS
BUT WHAT WILL BE MY HARVEST NOW
WHERE EVERY TEAR THAT FALLS ON A MEMORY
FEELS LIKE RAIN ON THE RUSTED PLOW
RAIN ON THE RUSTED PLOW

AND THESE FIELDS THEY DREAM OF WHEAT IN THE SUMMERTIME
GRANDCHILDREN RUNNING FREE
AND THE BAILS OF HAY AT THE END OF THE DAY
AND THE SCARECROW THAT JUST SCARED ME

NOW THE HOUSES THEY GROW LIKE WEEDS IN A FLOWER BED
THIS MORNING THE SILO FELL
SEEMS THE ONLY WAY A MAN CAN LIVE OFF THE LAND THESE DAYS
IS TO BUY AND SELL
SO…

REPEAT CHORUS

LIKE THE RAIN ON THE ROOF ON THE PORCH BY THE KITCHEN
WHERE MY GRANDMOTHER SINGS, I CAN HEAR IF I LISTEN
RUNNING DOWN, RUNNING DOWN TO THE END OF THE WORLD I LOVED
THIS WILL BE MY HARVEST NOW

AND THE SUN ROLLS DOWN, BIG AS MIRACLE
AND FADES IN THE MIDWEST SKY
AND THE CORN AND THE TREES WAVE IN THE BREEZE
AS IF TO SAY GOODBYE
AS IF TO SAY GOODBYE

The Arctic Ice Death Spiral and Homeland Security

This 30-second video illustrates the devastating decline in Arctic sea ice since 1979. The annual minimum volume--that amount of ice just before the volume begins increasing again as colder weather settles in--is 80 percent less than it was just three decades ago.

The Arctic will experience ice-free conditions as soon as 2015--many decades earlier than what researchers had thought even just a few years ago.

As the white ice is replaced by dark, sun-absorbing water, the heating of the Arctic ocean is intensifying, which in turn is melting more ice--including much faster melting of Greenland's ice.  And as Greenland melts, the oceans will rise.

The rapid warming of the Arctic is also messing up the high altitude river of air known as the jet stream, which regulates most of the weather in the northern part of the world.  One result is both the record-shattering warmth of the winter of 2012 in the United States and the longer, snowier winter of 2013.  Continued Arctic melting will lead to more heavy snowfalls, flooding, and heat waves.

National security officials from the Homeland Security Department and the Pentagon recently met at the White House with climate experts to discuss the threats posed by rapid Arctic melting and climate change.  The Department of Defense undoubtedly discussed its recent report on climate change, which states that it will have "significant geopolitical impacts around the world, contributing to greater competition for more limited and critical life-sustaining resources like food and water." It said climate change will "act as accelerants of instability or conflict in parts of the world...[and] may also lead to increased demands for defense support to civil authorities for humanitarian assistance or disaster response, both within the United States and overseas....DoD will need to adjust to the impacts of climate change on its facilities, infrastructure, training and testing activities, and military capabilities."

The Department of Homeland Security had its own report to bring to the table. "Understanding how major strategic drivers such as climate change may evolve," states the report, "is at the crux of effectively and decisively managing risks to the Nation’s security....Overall, climate change is expected to potentially affect the severity, rate, and/or frequency of extreme weather events, melting of ice sheets in the Arctic, sea-level rise, droughts, floods, and the spread of life-threatening diseases. In addition to these direct impacts, other significant impacts to the U.S. are anticipated to be indirect-linked to effects of climate change on other countries and their potential to affect U.S. security interests. In this way, climate change acts as a “threat multiplier,” aggravating stressors, such as poverty, environmental degradation, and social tensions, which can destabilize human systems and institutions."

Ten Arctic researchers were among the scientists appearing at the White House, including Carlos Duarte, director of the Oceans Institute at the University of Western Australia.  Duarte wrote an article for an Australian academic-based news analysis site that was published on the same day I gave my talk on "Facing Climate Catastrophe With Hope."  He said:

This situation has the momentum of a run-away train....The last five years have seen a cascade of unprecedented changes after a steep but relatively smooth trajectory of warming and ice loss during the 1990s. Historical record lows of summer minimum ice extent in 2007 were superseded last year: the Arctic could be free of ice in summer by 2015. A 30% increase in annual freshwater runoff has turned the Arctic into an estuarine ocean.

The area of Greenland affected by surface melting in the summer expanded in four days in July 2012 to reach 97% compared to previous values of about 40%. Finally, ozone depletion reaching levels comparable to the Antarctic ozone hole was observed for the first time in 2011. Together, the results point to a quick decline.

Results of these abrupt changes could include the disruption of the global thermohaline ocean circulation, accelerated sea level rise from melting of the Greenland ice cap, and the destabilisation of vast methane hydrate deposits in the continental shelf and coastal permafrost. These current trends and tipping points could lead to a never ending series of knock-on elements.

There IS hope.  But hope is genuine only when we face reality.  The evidence of human-caused global warming leading to dangerous climate change is overwhelming.  Either we react with urgency, or we place our generation's materialistic desires ahead of all else and commit future generations to a cascading series of traumas.

If you are interested in learning a little more about what is happening in the Arctic, this 10-minute video featuring marine scientist Ken Dutton is quite good: