With a nod to Confucius, who responded to disinformation and corruption of culture in his day with a call for the "rectification of names"--i.e., the practice of honestly and accurately naming reality--I suggest we support the "Call it a Crisis" campaign sponsored by Al Gore's Climate Reality Project: https://www.climaterealityproject.org/blog/why-do-we-call-it-climate-crisis.
Yes, signing an online petition seems trivial at present, especially one aimed at calling out the corporate media's complicity in climate denial. Yet sign we should. And let us also pledge to join those who are naming the crisis, making step changes in lifestyle, and organizing for collective action.
The Climate Reality Project has trained over 19,000 to exercise moral leadership on the climate crisis. The training is free and open to all ages. For folks in the U.S. and Canada the next three-day event is in early August in Minnesota: https://www.climaterealityproject.org/training?segment=web_homepage_tile#.
[NOTE: I will return to my reflections on the Notre-Dame fire and prospects for the renewal of U.S. Catholicism in the near future.]
About 1 am last night, post-milonga, I was driving in the rain northward on a windy, wooded stretch of Lincoln Drive that cuts through Philly's Fairmount Park when the traffic in both lanes came to a quick halt. Three cars in front of me, a mid-sized tree had fallen across the road, its upper branches reaching over a three-foot-high concrete median into the oncoming lane. Soon it became clear there was no turning around, no side-street detour, for the hundreds of cars pooling up behind the downed tree. We all were stuck.
While most drivers chose to stay dry and settle into the glass-cockpit comfort zone I write about in ch. 10 of Sustainable Abundance for All, some of us decided not to wait for the authorities. I joined a dozen or so millennials in the wet street, and spontaneously we formed a tree-removal brigade leaning-in hard this way and that, breaking off every branch we could, and getting bounced back by the main trunk when our lean-in reached nature's limit. At one point someone quipped "welcome to the frontier," which garnered a good laugh. A bit risky, yes, but everyone was motivated and mindful as we went about our tree-removal task.
About fifteen minutes into the project an ABC reporter was shooting video. A burly lumber sexual among us took issue, barking at him to help out. At one point a tow trucker stopped to help, but the road was too slick to effect a chain hauling away. Then, after more attempts at leaning in and a few moments of discouragement, one more big heave-ho yielded the cracking sound we knew meant victory.
A few high-fives later (and with a few parting Ef-U fingers for the ABC dude), the brigade disbanded as quickly as it had come together. The traffic flow commenced. Some of us grimed up our driver's seat with ground-up bark and sweat, but we felt good about how we took hold together and cleared a way for all.
No cops or other city personnel had been sighted. None were needed.
NOTE: This post is the first of several that take the Notre-Dame fire last month as a point-of-departure for reflection on the church today—and tomorrow.
In the NYTimes conservative Catholic pundit Ross Douthat recently commented on the tragedy of Notre-Dame on fire during Holy Week. Douthat reads the fire metaphorically as prophetic judgment upon a divided church: burning with righteous anger toward each other, both left and right seem incapable of renewing Catholicism’s genius for fashioning a synthesis that renews faith-in-action without denying the counsel of reason. A now-charred cathedral, emblematic of Catholicism’s steep decline in the EU and corrupt, moribund state in the U.S., once was a manifestation of the church’s vital capacity for synthetic vision, he claims (let students of church history judge the truth of the matter). Past the rebuilding to come (will Koch funds finally do some good? don’t hold your breath), a far more important challenge awaits Catholic folk of all stripes in the affluenza-afflicted countries of the global North: “The real challenge for Catholics, in this age of general post-Christian cultural exhaustion, is to look at what our ancestors did and imagine what it would mean to do that again, to build anew, to leave something behind that could stand a thousand years and still have men and women singing ‘Salve Regina’ outside its cruciform walls, as Parisians did tonight while Notre-Dame burned.” Alas, Douthat closes with hands thrown up, noting wistfully that only God and Catholics of 3019 A.D. know what a new synthesis might look like.
The synthesis-cum-renewal Douthat rightfully calls for may be re-described as the daunting task of forging among the faithful a “creative middle” (Bernard Lonergan’s phrase)—i.e., an authentic missionary church at once humble and bold in pursuing its redemptive mission--that owns the integral dialectic of tradition and innovation it lives out and seeks in its various ministries to heal and create in history as it mends individual lives, nurtures caring communities, and contributes to the “great work” (Thomas Berry’s phrase) of building of a more humane, just, and ecologically sustainable civilization (or what Lonergan referred to as “cosmopolis” in his political-theological essays, or what Pope Francis calls “integral ecology” in Laudato si’).
Attentive readers of my book Sustainable Abundance for All (Wipf and Stock, 2018) will notice that I did not foreground this challenge—essentially that of the church’s identity/role/mission in the contemporary world—choosing instead to focus on varied winds of change blowing through both church and society. In SAA I extended Lonergan’s notion of the creative middle, re-defining it as a stance and moral compass that persons of (whatever) faith might adopt in the public square as they navigate questions of technology in the context of social acceleration and the proactionary-precautionary debate (the latter playing out now on many fronts, e.g., the ongoing controversy around GMOs). In light of Douthat’s piece, and tutored by Lonergan, Pope Francis, Joe Holland, and Thomas Berry, among other wise souls, I want to share a thought or two as to how we might imagine and work constructively toward the coming-into-being of a “creative-middle church” dedicated to serving—and yes, (re)forming—a local-global civilization that is irreducibly pluralistic, dangerously conflict-ridden, and fast swirling towards the mother of all whirlwinds.
I suggest we start by recalling how the pope deploys a geometric metaphor, the polyhedron, to convey the beauty and dynamism of a local-global civilization that ideally seeks to achieve, if only provisionally, a unity-in-diversity truly respectful of both our common humanity and difference in all its manifold dimensions. In Evangelii Gaudium (2013) the Holy Father writes: “The whole is greater than the part, but it is also greater than the sum of its parts…. We constantly have to broaden our horizons and see the greater good which will benefit us all. But this has to be done without evasion or uprooting. We need to sink our roots deeper into the fertile soil and history of our native place, which is a gift of God. We can work on a small scale, in our own neighborhood, but with a larger perspective. Nor do people who wholeheartedly enter into the life of a community need to lose their individualism or hide their identity; instead, they receive new impulses to personal growth. The global need not stifle, nor the particular prove barren…. Here our model is not the sphere, which is no greater than its parts, where every point is equidistant from the center, and there are no differences between them. Instead, it is the polyhedron, which reflects the convergence of all its parts, each of which preserves its distinctiveness.”
I find the polyhedron figure, and so many of its artistic iterations, both captivating and liberating. To gaze intently upon a multi-colored, multi-shaped One-Many is akin to locking in on a new North Star; granted, it’s way beyond us at present yet still visible, however faintly, and thus able to inspire. A polyhedron offers us a sense of direction in the movement of life at a time when much conspires to leave us rudderless and adrift. And in light of astrobiology, we might imagine in hope not only this planet becoming wonderfully polyhedronic during this new millennium but also the existence of myriad such planets, past and perhaps present, that have passed successfully through several eye-of-the-needle transitions, not the least of which being the epic-epochal shift from unsustainable energy regimes to long-term energy sustainability (more on that in a near-future post). As a parent of three, I find polyhedrons help me to imagine my distant progeny inhabiting a home planet still warm and teeming.
How might the church-as-sacrament point, as it were, toward the polyhedronic planet our hearts desire? How might ecclesial institutions, practices, and members come to reflect in word and deed a new, life-giving synthesis for our (running out of…) time? Can we become at least the germ-seed of next-millennial Polyhedronic Catholics who shall bear witness to God’s love for all creation, even as they seek to fashion yet another synthesis for their (unimaginable) age? Coming posts explore these questions.
These days I greet the two scenes depicted in Psalm 149, and their foreshadowing (and fore-shaping?) of what may come in 2020, with joy and trepidation. The psalmist first evokes an immense joy through banquet imagery and a call to worship Yahweh by “singing a new song” and “praising his name in dance, making music with tambourine and lyre” (v. 3). An ecstatic moment, it all delights the Lord, who has “honored the poor with victory” (v. 4). One imagines the shades of Miriam and David returning and whirling in wild abandon with a host of celebrants. Rebels turned revelers. What other way to express radical amazement in the face of what God has wrought? Having been moved, this tango dancer starts to take steps, begins to move, each and every time he reads or hears the psalm’s opening verses. An earthy, earthling ecstasy on display here. No up-sweep into the eschatological just yet!
Now imagine with me a strong Democratic sweep in 2020 and a huge victory party in Central Park with raise-the-roof music and let-it-loose dancing. Taste and see it. Savor the moment in mind’s eye. After the Rev. Dr. William Barber and Rev. Liz Theoharis co-bless the many-colored multitude, I can hear Leon Bridges covering Lennon and see all the people swaying, hand in hand in hand. A great assembly of the Rainbow Coalition. Bloomberg and Schultz are in the crowd, not on stage, and no one notices!
Alas, the psalm then pivots badly to an ugly scene. What comes next is a sword for the godless others, wielded with righteous fury by God’s people, now authorized to “bring retribution on the nations, punishment on the peoples, binding their kings in shackles, their nobles in chains of iron, executing the judgments decreed for them” (vv. 7-9). Psalm 149 ends with Israel celebrated as Yahweh’s righteous, avenging horde: “such is the glory of all God’s faithful” (v. 9). You shall dance on their graves!
Only there’s no ending, no bastards dead and done, since the psalm moves many an assembly today, becoming again and again what feminist biblical scholar Phyllis Trible calls a “text of terror” with continuing deadly effects in history. With each recital, Psalm 149 evokes a powerful joy and then morphs into…what? How shall we name this shadow (or is it an evil substance, like a cancer?) within the gathered faithful--us among them? Dare we acknowledge these shades (poisons?), much less face up to them? Ah, the stubborn, stubborn mystery of human sinfulness that Augustine and Calvin, Niebuhr and Barth, counsel us never to discount. This WM eco-theologian from Concord, MA wants to flee into the wilderness! Enough, drown me now in Walden Pond!
Reflecting on Psalm 149, I tremble at what 2020 may bring. Ear to ground, recent rumblings do not reassure. As the impeachment drums beat more loudly in coming months and the primary contest heats up, I wonder how long the Donkey herd will forbear the faux king astride the corporate Elephant. That he has no clothes is apparent to most adult asses, not just the foal. And if the donkeys do grow ornery en masse, whether before or after the (stolen?) election, I suspect the well-armed wardens of the corporate security-surveillance state we now inhabit will do more than bark warnings to ward off any fatal exposure of the neoliberal regime’s Barnumesque, Oz-like leader. Remember who owns the guns out there. Lots of them.
All this may appear alarmist or, at best, premature, but permit me to share my unscientific findings on the country’s air quality, i.e., the foul air in the public square. Lately I’ve made an admittedly bad habit of wading nose-deep into large, odorous pools of WaPo posts that appear online in response to articles and op-eds about the presidential horse race, which incredibly is nearing the first turn already. (Ever the political entrepreneurs, WaPo’s exec editors also are running a weekly ranking/handicapping feature pompously titled the "Post Pundit 2020 Power Ranking." Is your fav Dem pol in the Top 15? Has s/he slid down or shot up the Leaderboard? How else to keep democracy from dying in darkness!) Mucking about in these cyber-stalls, one mostly smells manure, of course, though on occasion a fragrant insight, actually true fact, or alluring analysis wafts by (it’s spring after all). Still, the former whiff—often pungent--predominates by far.
From moderate Bidenistas to mad-dog Bernie Bros, I find with alarming frequency that comments on the Left exude something other than a healthy moral disgust with #DerangedDonald. Shifting the metaphor slightly, it seems the unholy smoke from a national house on fire has gone through the nostrils and far into many lungs on the Left, and I fear it’s already mutating into something quite unhealthy. You can detect it in their coarse, coughing rhetoric--an off-putting echo of their Old Left standard bearer. They “feel the Bern” still because they are burning with a righteous anger that smells, well, a lot like hate. Not good.
Put another way, these pools of posts I’ve been wading through contain a subtle yet dangerous poison, and these poisoned pools gather and flow daily into a deepening reservoir of resentment and rage among folk toward whom, generally speaking, I gravitate politically.
We progressive Christians—and to be clear, I voted for BS in the 2016 Dem primary and confess to bouts of biblically-fueled righteous anger--tend to assume too easily that all the illiberality lies to the Right of us. We strive to walk the Micah walk, truly yearn for Jubilee justice, respect the rule of law, defend Mumia’s right to due process, etc. But they don’t, damn it all!
Consider the powerful, lucid rhetoric of Chris Hedges, a progressive Christian and fearless writer-activist I greatly respect. After immersing himself in the pain and despair of red-state America a few years back, Hughes now deploys the phrase “American fascists” routinely to describe the Christian nationalists underwriting MAGA Trump’s con er, crusade. At once accurate and incendiary, I worry such language may nurture illiberal tendencies lurking not only within engaged lefties on the coasts but also within a largely un-‘woke but increasingly insecure, pissed-off populace (the opposite result of what Hedges intends, of course).
My fret this time is founded upon social-scientific findings. First, only 24% of U.S. voters register Republican, just 31% register Democrat, leaving 42% independent (3% join third parties). Second, reviewing a raft of new survey data, researcher David Adler finds that “respondents at the center of the political spectrum are the least supportive of democracy, least committed to its institutions, and most supportive of authoritarianism” (“The Centrist Paradox”). So, it may not be the two Koch Bros, or the tiny tea-party remnant, or even the troublesome mini-tribe of alt-rightists we must worry most about. Instead, the not-so-latent danger is an illiberal streak borne of fear running through millions of economically vulnerable Americans. Droves of donkeys so disgusted with democracy’s dysfunction they no longer believe in it. Walls and weapons sound good to these folks when liberal elites prove ineffectual repairers of the guardrails.
This disturbing data point helps to explain in part why Trump’s rogue candidacy gained traction, but for secular and religious progressives alike the more important question it raises for 2020 and beyond is whether and how faith in the idea of democracy can be renewed. Rhetorically, Biden’s announced “calling” to run appears pitched to this challenge. IMHO, right message but wrong messenger (sorry, Joe, you have less street cred than you know).
Note as well what has happened on campuses to the noble art of democratic deliberation, exemplified last year at Villanova University (where I teach) by the public dialogue between conservative legal scholar Robert George and Cornel West, both of whom saw fit to retrieve the virtue tradition and practice of parrhesia. Alas, the woke ones on campuses across the country, now weaponized with intersectional phraseology and trigger-happy, claim the mantle of “social justice warrior” and manage to chill the air enough so that conservative undergrads keep their mouths shut. Not cool, kids.
Turning to the theological dimension of all this, let us remind ourselves that Christians are not called to save democracy--or any other human construct, ideological or otherwise--from itself. We are called to witness to God's love by going and doing likewise. We care for all creation as we taste and see and celebrate in joy and gratitude its goodness even now. We glimpse faintly the eschatological horizon and dare to announce the coming of a beloved community and "new heaven and earth" that remains always out ahead of us, as it were. Tikkun olam is our calling, too. We follow Yeshua ben Nazareth, an uncommonly good Jew.
I suggest we retrieve in this moment Niebuhr’s sense of the tragic as well as his ability to sniff out liberal illusions and willingness to call out liberal self-righteousness, even as he raked the really nasty plutocrats of his day over the coals. Doing so may help us to ponder seriously the unlikely, Overton-window-breaking scenario of, say, a newly-elected Democratic administration and Congress over-reaching badly in its zeal to bring Wall Street's stallions firmly to bit while also vigorously prosecuting all neoliberal miscreants (beginning with #DethronedDonald), only to find the over-reach igniting rampant capital flight (and a slew of other corporate counter-moves to stymie structural reforms) as well as a violent backcountry backlash (with flames fanned by Joel Ornstein & Co). Regarding the latter, they are Legion who swear on the KJB to die by the sword in defense of Donald and the MAGA dream, and if you couple his demise with a neo-Reconstructionist initiative or Green New Deal project that effectively belittles them again, then it surely will unleash serious blowback down South. Again, remember who owns the guns. Lots of them. And recall who burned the Highlander Center down a few months ago, marched on U. VA's campus in 2017, blessed the rigging of elections in NC, and so on.
Or we might ponder a (stolen?) election result that triggers not a women’s mass demonstration against indecency, circa January 2017, but a hugely undisciplined and wickedly polarizing reaction (not the progressive-populist Movement of movements we actually need) “led” by enraged (il)liberals. In either scenario, the country could spiral downward into a Blood-Red Zone it’s never been in and from which it might never recover.
Yugoslavia, Venezuela…it can happen here. Too many prophets in the Tanakh have warned us thus. If and when the dam of civility breaks and the reservoir rages down through the valley, before or after the election, it’s not hard to imagine lots of people in the pews hearing Psalm 149 preached and demanding at fever pitch full punishment and/or perpetual internment of [fill-in-the-blank].
Finally, the IPCC told us last fall--pretty much point-blank, finally--that we can expect hordes of hungry campesinos y campesinas, aka climate refugees, to continue marching toward El Norte, a prospect likely to prompt growing calls for the construction of a well-provisioned and well-guarded Amerikan Ark. If Adler is right about the centrist paradox, then these authoritarian voices backed by buckets of corporate dollars won't appeal simply to the Right (an opening for son-of-Trump here). Christian Parenti in particular gets it; his analysis of the "catastrophic convergence" of die-hard neoliberalism, a Cold War militarism now given new license to expand post-9/11, and quickening climate change is sobering. Along these lines, a re-reading of Conrad's "An Outpost of Progress" seems in order.
None of these dark observations are meant to de-motivate us. Enormously hopeful movements and voices--and here I hold up the new Poor People's Campaign, Sunrise's current "national tour" of town hall meetings, and Andrew Yang's ongoing "Humanity First" tour, among many others--need our financial support and active participation. As I argue in Sustainable Abundance for All (Wipf and Stock, 2018), working together to make the "adjacent possible" of positive social change a reality--through nonviolent direct action campaigns, formation of co-ops, and a hundred other projects along many fronts--is an integral aspect of what good lives are about.
Executives often speak of how challenging it is to navigate a volatile, uncertain, and complex business environment. At the ready, management gurus counsel a more collaborative, agile style of leadership. Market success calls for connecting and innovating, not command-and-control. The winning formula: attract talent, empower high-functioning teams, and swap smart machines for labor wherever possible. An unforgiving market demands flexibility and flawless execution.
A different yet strangely similar message comes from another quarter: environmentalists say a world of extreme weather, rising ocean waters, and less fresh water will require leaders and followers alike to become more adaptive and resilient, to pivot toward post-carbon technologies and adopt more sustainable livelihoods. As Bill McKibben observes, "The changes to our lives will be ongoing and large and will require uncommon nimbleness, physically and psychologically."
Unfortunately, technology-centered automation not only renders many jobs redundant but also dumbs down remaining workers. Consider the fate of pilots. Air travel has never been safer, and we have computerization to thank for that. Yet commercial pilots, who touch the controls for only a few minutes at take-off and landing, now function as computer operators within high-tech glass cockpits. They struggle to gain flying experience and maintain the skill, expertise, quick reflexes, and habits of attentiveness required when, as sometimes happens, the auto-pilot glitches and the plane and its passengers are back in their hands. Sophisticated simulation training only goes so far. At least one veteran pilot has stated flatly, “We’re forgetting how to fly.”
According to Nicholas Carr, the shadow side of auto-pilot is emblematic of a larger, worrisome trend as automation accelerates: “The mounting evidence of an erosion of skills, a dulling of perceptions, and a slowing of reactions should give us all pause. As we begin to live our lives inside glass cockpits, we seem fated to discover what pilots already know: a glass cockpit can also be a glass cage.” Carr’s allusion to Weber lends weight to the increasingly common sentiment that we are fated to living in a Jetsonian world. On this view, Google and Big Auto soon will create a world of self-driving cars, and only fools and the Amish would reject the safety and freedom to do other things when mobile. Yet just when the uncommon nimbleness and other capabilities required for a deft handling of the increasingly severe conditions we’re fast flying toward are needed most, we are counseled to kick back for a Cadillac ride and let the learning algorithms take over. How long will workers be taken for a ride?
Beyond its intrinsic delights, tango may be viewed as a training ground for life in a risky, runaway world. Dance partners risk an adventure, stepping together again and again into new territory, exploring the adjacent possible through a movement-making at once composed and untamed.
And what of the misstep or stumble? Simple miscommunication, an unclear signal from the lead, a rush into the next step by a nervous and inexperienced follower, poor technique—these common failures among the tango faithful turn a smooth synchrony into an unwelcome, jarring juxtaposition registered immediately as heaviness and tension in the dance. Tango etiquette is clear about these inevitable falls from grace: the lead takes responsibility—always—and repairs the situation immediately by adjusting as necessary and leading the pair back into the lightness and ease. What makes this practice of forgiveness challenging is the uncommon nimbleness of mind required: the lead has to re-frame the situation on the fly and act with precision and timeliness, lest the dance drag or come to a crashing halt. There is no auto-pilot in tango, only grace under pressure.