New Wood

Footnotes to a Catastrophe

2012-03-01T15:13:00.000-06:00

Glacier Bay National Park, Alaska, July 3, 2006

Over the past few weeks I have read six books about climate change. I just want to summarize them here, as there are so many books out there and if you are inclined to read one you may not know where to start. In fact, I've got another half dozen to go of the ones I have bought but not yet read, plus several others that I have read over the last couple of years, and even that doesn't come close to all that are available.

And one thought that increasingly haunts me: are all of these books for naught? Are we really going to ignore all the warning signs and the evidence gathered by thousands of scientists, and simply go on living as we are until there is so much carbon dioxide in the atmosphere that we will not be able to prevent catastrophe? Are the decades of research, the papers, the books nothing more than footnotes for some future scholar writing about the collective suicide of a materially rich, spiritually poor culture?

I am going to have to write more about the mental and spiritual aspects of this, because quite frankly immersing myself in all this research has made me very sad for any child born today, and angry at the lies being told us by politicians and an industry of propaganda bent on keeping people confused. We had enough information twenty years ago to begin to act--that's how much time the denial industry has already cost us, making it guaranteed that we will now have significant warming that will cause great hardship for many people around the world. If they succeed at delaying action for another twenty years, catastrophe will be locked in. So there is hope, but we must act soon.

If you're trying to understand climate change--what it is, how do scientists study it, how do they know the scope of the problem, and the people behind the denial industry and the tricks, distortions and lies they have engaged in to keep you in the dark--then one or more of the following books will be an excellent place to start:

Elizabeth Kolbert, Field Notes from a Catastrophe: Man, Nature and Climate Change.

What separates this book from the pack is its excellence in the purely literary sense: Kolbert is a great writer, and in this book she takes you on a journey to different parts of the world, visiting scientists and ordinary people who are already experiencing problems from climate change. Kolbert presents key aspects of the science in such a way as to be readily understood by almost anyone. She also devotes part of the book to a wonderful analysis of the history of our understanding about carbon dioxide's effects in the atmosphere. To make a long story short, we've known the relationship between CO2 and temperature for more than a century. It is not some new-fangled, controversial idea. This book also gives more insight then the others about the human toll of climate change. Its one drawback is important: it was published in 2006. The overwhelming body of research that has come out since then has demonstrated that the problem is much worse, and happening much faster, than what scientists thought in 2006. Even her updated epilogue, written in 2009, cannot adequately make up for this. So, it is a great book for anyone trying to understand the basic issues, but know that the picture scientists present now is much worse.

James Lawrence Powell, The Inquisition of Climate Science.

The second best thing about this book, which came out last August, is that the author is an eminent scientist who was appointed by Presidents Reagan and George H.W. Bush to the top science board in the nation for all twelve years of their presidencies. The best thing is that he exposes today's politics of denial with righteous anger. He sets the tone early on: "Extraordinary claims, as Carl Sagan said, require extraordinary evidence. But those who still refuse to accept the evidence for global warming are not skeptics. When evidence becomes strong enough, an honest skeptic is honor bound to accept it....Global warming deniers do not merely question the evidence and ask for more and better research, much less present any evidence of their own. Rather they denounce climate science and those who practice it, ridiculing them and questioning their ethics and honesty. Congressional committees call scientists to testify and subject them to a Kafkaesque interrogation. To call such people skeptics is to sully a term of honor, allowing the deniers to cloak themselves in the mantle of science even as they deny critical parts of climate science. Those who abjure global warming are not skeptics; they are deniers. To call them skeptics is to debase language as much as to call the Ku Klux Klan 'prejudiced,' Holocaust deniers 'biased,' or Flat-Earthers 'mistaken.' There is honest and honorable skepticism; then there is irrational, self-serving denial."

Believe me, by the time you're done with this book--heck, even partway through--he will show you ample proof of the dishonesty and anti-democratic impulses of the deniers.

Raymond S. Bradley, Global Warming and Political Intimidation.

This is the first of three books I'm summarizing written by prominent climate scientists who have been in the thick of the battle with the denial industry, and this one, which came out last July, is my favorite of the three. If you want to read just one book that helps you understand climate science and how the science and scientists are abused by the denial industry, this is the one I would recommend. And for this very reason it is also the book I am most likely to use in class, as I know my non-science students will find it understandable, and his writing style will keep them engaged. His tone is that of someone who can't believe he has been subjected to so much harassment and character assassination, and he is confident that the vast majority of Americans will quickly turn on the denial industry once they become aware of its McCarthy-style tactics.

Michael E. Mann, The Hockey Stick and the Climate Wars: Dispatched from the Front Lines.

This book has just been published, and the Los Angeles Times gave a very good, in-depth review of it a couple of days ago. If you haven't been in a cave the past decade, you've probably seen or at least heard of the "hockey stick" chart that shows the rapid increase of carbon dioxide in recent decades compared to geologic time. The denial industry realized the potency of this image from the beginning, and so Michael Mann, the first author of the research that produced the chart (Raymond Bradley was one of the other two) has been in the deniers' cross-hairs ever since. What you may not know, is that somewhere around a dozen studies done since the graph became public news, using a variety of methodologies, have all found the same pattern--enough sticks for an entire hockey team. In the fever swamps of the denial industry and those who faithfully read their blogs and articles, the hockey stick was discredited; in actuality, it has been reaffirmed time and again.

But this book is about more than that one iconic image. Like Bradley, Mann goes into detail about the science, and also into detail about his personal hell on earth thanks to the fine folks funded by the fossil fuel industry. Like Bradley and Powell, he exposes the tactics the deniers use to distort his research and to harass him personally. I think my students would find his explanation of the science a little too in-depth. For me, the biggest surprise is that Mann writes with a measured style--he doesn't show the outrage that must certainly be inside. This might make him more effective for some, and less so for others, so take that into account if you're choosing between his book and Bradley's. I should add that both of them remain hopeful about galvanizing the public in time to prevent the most disastrous scenarios that are nearly guaranteed to unfold if we take no action.

James Hansen, Storms of My Grandchildren: The Truth About the Coming Climate Catastrophe and Our Last Chance to Save Humanity.

You might think this title is overly dramatic. It's not. Well, not exactly, anyway. It depends on whether or not humanity will burn up the remaining fossil fuels or not. If we do, then yes, we will create an unstoppable chain of events that will be utterly disastrous for humans and all other life.

This isn't something that climate scientists guess at by plugging data into computer models. One of the tactics of the denial industry is to make those models sound worthless. In fact, they are excellent, and we know this because they have been tested against past climates for which we have empirical data. But what I like best about this book, which was published in 2009, is that Hansen shows how it is the empirical data itself--our treasure trove of information from geologic time up to the present--that proves the unprecedented and dangerous situation we are in. The models fine-tune the predictions, but the need for action is clear even without them. To me, that's the most useful aspect of this book.

Hansen may be the one climate scientist who is even more detested by deniers than Mann, because he has dared to speak publicly over the years about the seriousness of our predicament, and has refused to be intimidated. His book is much like the previous two in discussing both the science and the attacks, but, while I believe it is an important contribution, I think the other two will appeal to a broader audience. Hansen's chronological approach sometimes gets in the way of the bigger picture that he's trying to convey.

Hayden Washington and John Cook, Climate Change Denial: Heads in the Sand.

This book, which came out last April, takes more of a textbook approach, outlining the basics of climate science and the basics of denial--the media-related aspects, the political aspects, and even the psychological aspects. It is heavily referenced, and so provides readers with an entry into the various strands of research they examine. It is well-done, but its academic style will limit its audience. (This isn't a criticism, as it fills an important niche.)

A More Perfect Way

2012-02-22T18:55:00.000-06:00

[This interchange follows immediately upon the conversation in yesterday's post.]

***

After the politician sat down, a university professor stood up and spoke. "Jesus, those people you just talked about, the ones who changed their lives: Granted, that's pretty impressive, but at the same time they only did it for the sake of other people. You're advocating an anthropocentric spirituality--what about the rest of creation?"

Jesus chuckled. "Baby steps, my friend!" he said. "Baby steps! If the sun is supposed to rise at 6 a.m., but it doesn't show up until your clock says 6:15, which is more likely: that something is wrong with the sun? or that your clock is running fast?"

"That my clock is running fast," said the professor.

"Right," said Jesus. "And much better for the sun to shine a little late, from your perspective, than not to shine at all! Those who simplify their lives for the sake of the global poor and future generations are also living in a way that is better for the rest of creation, too. Be glad that their sun is shining! If enough people do this, a new day will dawn, and in its light much that has been forgotten will be clear again."

Jesus looked out at the audience. The corners of his mouth raised slightly, and there was a hint of amusement in his eyes, but his voice was serious. "And yet, if you seek a more perfect way, you will enlarge the boundaries of your heart to live in solidarity with all of the poor. The poor are all around you. Many times you walk right past them without even seeing them. They are often afraid and hide when you come. Some of these poor crawl, some walk, some are rooted to the earth, and some even have wings to fly, but though many of them make beautiful sounds, their voices are powerless in your world. If you seek a more perfect way, open your heart to all beings--even those you don't think of as beings: the lakes, the rivers, the mountains, the deserts. They are all close to my heart, and if you seek a more perfect way, they will be close to yours, too."

A silence fell over the room. Nobody knew what to say. There were no further questions.

The Good Samaritan--A Reboot

2012-02-21T18:54:00.000-06:00

The idea of placing Jesus into a modern setting and putting a classic parable into modern context has been in my head for a while, but this is the first time I’ve tried it. It’s also the first time I’m connecting a post to a wider group project, a series coordinated by Godspace called “Getting Ready for Lent—What Do We Hunger and Thirst For?” Here goes:

***

Jesus was in Washington, D.C., speaking at the annual National Prayer Breakfast. A politician well-known for strong religious views stood up to test him and said, “Jesus, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

Jesus responded, “What is written in God’s law? How do you understand it?”

The politician said, “You shall love God with all your heart, all your being, all your strength and all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus replied, “You said it well. Do this and you will live.”

Looking for a loophole, the politician pressed Jesus: “And how would you define ‘neighbor’?”

Jesus answered with a story. “A poor nation on a remote continent suffered a devastating drought; hundreds of thousands were dying of thirst and famine, and then disease broke out and the death toll continued to climb. The whole world watched with horror as newscasts showed the immensity of the suffering.

“Many of the people who watched lived in wealthy countries. Some of them saw the news, commented on how awful it was for those poor people, said a prayer or two, and then stopped thinking about it.

“Others who saw the news not only prayed, but donated money to one of the international relief organizations that were bringing aid to the people of that poor nation. Then they went back to their lives, happy to have done something good.

“There were a few who wondered about the drought and why it was so devastating. They went online to learn more about it, and discovered that it was linked to climate change and that intense droughts were going to be an even greater problem in the decades ahead, especially impacting the world’s poorest people. They learned about the causes of climate change, and came to realize that their own way of living was a major part of the problem. They hadn’t known! They had simply lived as others did around them. At first this made them feel terribly guilty, but then, after a period of much prayer and questioning, they discovered that they, too, suffered from drought—an inner drought. And they become aware of a deep thirst: they thirsted for connectedness, for meaning, for love, for justice.

“This thirst opened their hearts and prompted them to action. They decided to simplify their lives for the sake of those suffering halfway around the world, as well as for the sake of future generations. Over time they found all sorts of ways to cut their own energy use; they also rediscovered the joy of spending time outdoors, reading, playing instruments, growing things and visiting, and they got more involved in the community. Some of them also donated money to relief organizations, and some of them didn’t, but they all rediscovered the heart of their faith and their connectedness to the world around them. They were less distracted, less anxious, and more joyful. They were happy to live simply, so that others could simply live.”

Jesus turned to the politician, and asked, “What do you think? Which of these kinds of people have become neighbors to those who are suffering?”

The politician responded, “Those who discovered their own inner thirst, and changed their lives for the sake of people they couldn't even see--those halfway around the world and those of the future.”

Jesus said, “Go and do the same, and you will find freedom, love and joy.”

[Come back tomorrow to see as Jesus responds to another questioner, a university professor, and suggests "a more perfect way."]

[Here's a resource if you would like to pray and/or meditate on five scripture passages that can help you examine your relationship to creation in comparison to the values of Christ. If you want to get right to the five passages and reflections, see the links at the bottom of that post.]

***

David Backes has written and spoken on various aspects of the environment and the spiritual journey for many years. He teaches courses on these themes at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, and is also ordained as a Roman Catholic deacon.

Wounded, Not Wicked

2012-02-18T19:54:00.001-06:00

Grant Park, January 29, 2012

I'm preaching this weekend, and thought I'd post what I'm saying. If you want to read the scripture selections first (I refer to the first reading and the Gospel), you can find them here.

***

The man was dying of stomach cancer, and he was lying on a hospital bed in his living room when my prayer partner and I entered. His wife had heard of our healing ministry and had invited us to come, give her husband a blessed prayer shawl, and pray with him.

The man had been an active parishioner. You always knew when he was in church, because as he came down the aisle for communion he sang with a big, booming voice. Now, he was emaciated, his voice weak. He hadn’t sung in months. We visited for a while, then began to pray, laying our hands on him and inviting the Holy Spirit to come and bring this man healing where he most needed it.

As always, after praying for a while we fell silent, waiting to see if the Spirit would prompt us or him with any new thoughts or concerns. After a minute or so, the man looked up at us with anxious eyes and asked, “Do you think God really forgives me?”

At the University of Scranton, a Jesuit school in Pennsylvania, one of the pastoral ministers was teaching different approaches to prayer. She encouraged the college students to imagine that Jesus was standing right in front of them, and to look him in the eye and say what came to them. Later, the group shared their experiences. The first student said he was unable to look Jesus in the eye. “Why not?” asked their teacher. The student paused, shuffled his feet, glanced at the floor, and then said: “Because I’m not worthy.”

The teacher looked around the room and saw that all the students were nodding their heads in agreement. They all felt unworthy to look Jesus in the eye.

All of us suffer at times from spiritual paralysis. Sometimes we’re like the scribes in today’s Gospel, so sure of our understanding of truth that we close ourselves off from the Holy Spirit. When Catholics turn God into a Republican or a Democrat, for example, they are to some degree succumbing to this kind of paralysis.

Sometimes our paralysis is more subtle, like that of the people crowded together to hear Jesus speak. Imagine being there, when suddenly there is a scuffling noise above, and then a hole appears in the thatched roof and a paralyzed man is being lowered down in front of Jesus. You’ve heard the rumors. You’ve come, probably, at least in part to see Jesus perform a miracle. So when Jesus’ first words to the man are, “Child, your sins are forgiven,” you’re probably going “WHAT?! Is that it?!” This is the paralysis that comes when we don’t really want to have to change our perspectives or our lifestyles, we just want to feel good.

Jesus’s words not only brought inner healing to the paralyzed man, they exposed the inner paralysis of the scribes and the crowds. He did this not to condemn them, but in the hope that they would open the thatched roofs of their own hearts and let in the healing grace of God. How many cheap desires and false expectations and narrow beliefs must die for us to truly see Jesus face to face, to recognize him for who he is, and let him free us from our inner paralysis!

Jesus asks the muttering scribes, “Which is easier…to say ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say ‘Rise, pick up your mat and walk?” To our ears the answer is obvious—to say ‘Your sins are forgiven’—because this refers to a spiritual reality and so can’t be proven or disproven. If Jesus says ‘Rise, pick up your mat and walk,’ it immediately will be obvious whether or not the man can get up. But from Jesus’ perspective, the answer is the opposite: to say ‘Your sins are forgiven’ is much harder; his power to do so comes not simply in his role as the Son of God, but in his incarnation as the Son of Man, the atoning Messiah who earns this power to forgive in his Passion. His death on the cross is a universal shedding of his blood by which God covers sin with mercy. All sin. Yours, mine, everyone’s from all times and places.

That’s what is prophesied in the first reading. God tells Isaiah that he will wipe out the people’s sins, wipe them out and remember them no more. Jesus’ death on the cross will be that one great moment of eternal love that reverberates backwards and forwards across human time to cover all of us with his mercy. “See!” he tells Isaiah, “I am doing something new!...do you not perceive it?”

And that brings us to what may be the most widespread paralysis of all—not the fact that we sin, but that we think our sinfulness makes us unworthy to look Jesus in the eye, that he is angry with us or at least disapproving until somehow we become perfect. We don’t perceive that God is doing something new. We are paralyzed by the persistent belief that God is an all-powerful punisher who is looking for reasons to condemn. Nothing could be further from the truth. When the apostles James and John brought up this image of God Jesus rebuked them and said they were speaking in the spirit of Satan! He said, “The Son of Man did not come to destroy men’s lives but to save them.”

Jesus Christ is the Word that spoke all of creation into being, and as the Book of Genesis tells us, God looked at everything he had made and found it very good. We need to get rid of this idea that somehow our sinfulness makes us like garbage in the eyes of God, unlovable, unforgivable. GOD DOES NOT MAKE JUNK! When God looks at us, he doesn’t focus on what we see, he doesn’t obsess on our current flaws or even terrible things we might have done in the past. He sees someone he handmade, someone who is precious and beautiful and—if we will allow him to heal us—can live a life of freedom, love and joy. We say before communion, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof…”—the Lord says, “Yes, but so what? Do not be afraid! Let me enter, so I may say the word that heals you!”

When that man dying of cancer asked me and my prayer partner if we thought God truly forgave him, we knew what he needed. He didn’t need a physical cure of his cancer; he needed to be healed of his paralysis caused by a negative view of himself and God, a product of the false kind of religion that Jesus condemned. And so we launched into a new round of prayer, asking the Holy Spirit to free him of this burden.

Within days he died, and only then did we hear what had happened. A morning or two after we had seen him, his wife walked toward the living room to open up the curtains. She stopped—she heard something. A song! And then, in amazement, she realized that it was her husband. Her husband who had not sung in months. He was singing, “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.”

Don’t you perceive it? God is doing something NEW. God doesn’t see us as wicked people who need punishing; he sees us as wounded people who need healing. And God offers complete healing for whatever paralyzes us.

Who You Gonna Believe, Me or Your Lying Eyes?: A Trick of the Global Warming Denial Trade

2012-02-16T16:02:00.000-06:00

As you can see from this SkepticalScience.com graphic, there is a clear warming trend in global surface temperatures. But as you also can see, within the overall trend are lots of individual data points that may be very high, very low, or somewhere in between. That's a key reason why scientists use at least 30 years' worth of data to talk about climate. It takes that long to separate short-term noise from long-term signal.

If you choose to look at shorter time-frames, it's possible to look at this same data set, pick one of half a dozen different sets of years, and say "It's not warming--climate change, if it ever existed, has stopped!" To do this, of course, is to misuse the data and the very definition of climate. But that's what climate change deniers do on a regular basis.

Currently, you may see or hear deniers claim that "warming stopped in 1998." They make that claim using the kind of trick shown above. They choose 1998 because that was an extremely hot year, and subsequent years were a little cooler, although still hotter than average. If they even started one year earlier, in 1997, the result would be the opposite of what they want to claim.

There's a word for this dishonest form of argumentation, in which one chooses only the data that gives the results wanted, rather than the full set: cherry-picking. Climate change deniers use this strategy frequently, in a variety of ways, but their claim that warming has stopped is probably the one they've used to greatest effect on the overly trusting. As anyone can see, the trend is up. The planet is warming.

If you want to learn more about this graph and this issue about cherry-picking the temperature data, see the Skeptical Science posts here and here.

Weather on Steroids

2012-02-14T16:03:00.000-06:00

This two-minute video does a nice job of explaining how the carbon dioxide humans are pumping into the atmosphere affects the climate: it's similar to how taking steroids affects the batting performance of a baseball player. I wish it would explicitly address one other widespread misunderstanding: the difference between weather and climate. Every time there's an unusual cold spell, for example, climate change deniers will ridicule those who say the planet is warming. And there are also some environmental activists who make too much out of a hot spell. To use the analogy from the video, the steroid-popping baseball player will still strike out at times (record cold spells), but over time will have far more home runs than without steroids.

When we talk about "climate," we're referring to averages of weather conditions over a thirty-year period or longer. When people talk about shorter periods of time, such as a summer or winter, or a year or a decade, those statistics are useful only to the extent they are put into the context of the longer trend. A record cold spell no more disproves climate change than a warm spell proves it. However, we are in fact experiencing far more high temperature records than low temperature records--exactly what we would expect from weather on steroids.

The Disturbing Beauty of Swans

2012-02-07T14:02:00.002-06:00

Swans, Lake Michigan, February 6, 2012

Shortly after finishing yesterday's post, I took a walk to nearby Grant Park. On my way there, I was continuing to think about the issues on my mind when I wrote my post, but, as always, my mind began to clear as my heart filled with happiness at entering this natural sanctuary I have known all my life.

I made my way up to one of my favorite lookouts along the bluff. The late afternoon sun was low enough that the bluff was in shadow, but most of Lake Michigan was bright, and the light breeze spread patches of dark ripples away from shore. It was 40 degrees or so, a good ten degrees warmer than normal for this time of year.

Almost immediately I noticed two large, white birds out on the water, glistening in the sun. Swans! My initial reaction was excitement. How awesome to see these beautiful birds in the middle of winter!

And then it hit me. Swans! In the middle of winter! They shouldn't be here! I wondered what kind of swans they were, and I zoomed in with my camera:

The orange bills (which you can see best on the original size photo) told me that these were mute swans. Introduced into the eastern United States from Europe in the late 1800s, they have become a nuisance, displacing native species of swans and other waterfowl and damaging habitat. Many states, including Wisconsin, have policies in place to decrease their population.

Some mute swans do stay the winter in Wisconsin, in places where there is enough open water and a supply of food. Still, I had never seen them in my little corner of the state before April. They were so beautiful, floating southward in the sun, and yet seeing them also was a disturbing reminder of this eerily warm winter--the kind of winter that will increasingly become normal here in Milwaukee--and of a classic way humans mess up ecosystems by introducing non-native species.

I couldn't stop watching and admiring the beauty of these creatures, and yet I was sad. Sad for them, sad for our native, endangered trumpeter swan that suffers in part from the incursions of the mute, sad for other waterfowl whose habitat is damaged, sad for all these creatures who are struggling to adapt to the changing climate. Sad for us, the two-legged species that has forgotten its own deepest self.

"One of the penalties of an ecological conscience is that one lives alone in a world of wounds." So wrote Aldo Leopold, and hardly a day goes by that I don't experience it. It's not unusual, when talking about the major problems of climate change, peak oil, the increasing shortages of fresh water, and so on, that people don't want to hear it. They literally don't want to know. And part of me understands that. It is painful. It can be scary. It is much easier to not know, and to live as though all is well.

Sometimes, in weaker moments, I wish I could go back to that. But I can't. Something has opened my heart to this immense suffering of creation, and to shut it out would not simply be a rejection of nature, or of duty, or of conscience--it would be a rejection of my very self. And I believe that my apparent curse of openness to this reality is at the very same time a great blessing, for it also opens me to a deep joy. And that joy, rooted in connectedness to a far greater Reality than meets the eye, keeps me sane. Keeps me going. Keeps me human.

Before I turned for home, I gave the swans a special blessing.

I stopped at one more spot before leaving the park, a little pond that has managed to hang onto its ice:

Half a century ago, a mute swan was a regular resident here, and many people still call this little body of water the Swan Pond. When I was in kindergarten in the spring of 1963, my class walked here on a field trip. It is my first memory of seeing a swan. We walked up close to the edge of the pond, the part shown in the picture above, to get a good look at this amazing bird. One of my classmates, though, got a little too close. With one swift move, the swan swung its neck out and snapped at the boy's hand.

Beautiful, and disturbing.

The Power of Words

2012-02-06T14:09:00.000-06:00

As I prepare to create my new course tentatively called "The American Dream, the Media, and the Fate of the Earth," I am immersing myself in books, articles and documentaries related to energy, climate change, water, agriculture and consumption.

In some ways it is making for a painful sabbatical. Our political leaders and media have utterly failed to prepare us for what is coming, and it makes me angry. Our politicians in particular are to blame, according to a new study that says they have had the largest influence on public opinion about climate change.

I will be writing more on various aspects of this. More on some of the specific books and documentaries, for example, but also about the psychological and spiritual dimension. How, for example, am I to deal with anger that I'm feeling about the constant twisting of truth that has gotten so many Americans (almost alone in the world) to think that climate change is nothing but a hoax? The vast exaggerations about our ability to get ourselves out of our energy predicament by drilling for more oil and setting up more pipelines and blowing up more mountaintops for coal?

It is evil. Yet at this point few people even care.

It was good to see the above video today. It is a sign of hope--that if we can reframe the story, we can touch people's hearts and perhaps create a better future. Words do carry much power, and the stories that dominate a culture shape the future. We've got to get rid of many internalized stories in our country--stories about the inevitability of progress, blind belief in technology that will always rescue us before disaster hits, the belief that free market capitalism is an unqualified good. What are the stories we need to create to take their place? What will help people see the world in a newer, healthier way? What are the words that will open hearts and minds?

Hope on a January Afternoon

2012-01-30T19:53:00.001-06:00

Yesterday morning I woke up to a brief snow shower: big fluffy flakes cascading down, quickly giving us an inch or so of fresh snow. Not long afterward, the clouds broke up, and the day was bright and sunny.

Winters here tend to be very cloudy, so to get a fresh snowfall followed by sun is a special pleasure, even more so this year when we have had almost no snow and our temperatures have been well above normal. I knew my morning would be occupied by church, and so a morning walk was out of the question, but the best time for taking photos is late afternoon, anyway, and so around 3:30 I took off for Grant Park.

I love blue winter tree shadows against the snow. I love the way the snow itself lets go of its harsh whiteness and takes on the subtle warm colors of the descending sun.

And then there was Lake Michigan itself, an icy blue complement to the subtle pinks of a late afternoon in January. If you look carefully, you may be able to see a couple of white dots toward the right: two of the many seagulls that were wheeling and circling above the lake, glistening in the sun.

A sunny day in January can provide spectacular scenes of blinding white beauty, but I prefer that final hour of daylight, when all is still and, if you are in the right place at the right time, you will see something as simple as an old fence transform under the gentle rays of a fading winter sun.

In the golden glow of a late afternoon in January, it's not hard to find signs of hope.

The Trees of the Wood Shout for Joy

2012-01-23T16:09:00.000-06:00

Grant Park, September 12, 2011

This morning I woke up to murky gray skies and a landscape saturated from heavy rain. The nighttime temperature had actually climbed above 40 degrees, and between that and the rain a lot of our accumulated snow from a week's worth of winter was gone, and the rest was soggy and decaying.

It wasn't exactly an inspiring sight.

I got the coffee going, did my regular 20 minutes or so of back and shoulder exercises, and then settled in at my little kitchen table and picked up the Daily Office.

"All the trees of the wood shout for joy...."

That was the line that especially struck me today. I love the imagery of trees shouting for joy. On a gloomy day such as this, though, it is harder to picture. Even my beloved little backyard birch tree seemed a bit bedraggled. In fact I'd say it reminded me more of St. Paul's letter to the Romans (8:22): "We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time."

Maybe that's the point. The world suffers, all creation suffers, you and I and everyone else have our own reasons for groaning. And yet it is possible to experience joy at the same time, even to shout for joy. And a healthy spirituality will make this possible, even inevitable. Joy is not the same as happiness, but refers to zest for life. And it is always rooted in reality.

"All the trees of the wood shout for joy...." Why? In Psalm 96, from which this line comes, it is because they recognize the reality of the presence of the Lord, the Lord who sustains all things and who will renew all things. St. Paul writes (Romans 8:18-21): "I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God."

I love how the psalms of the Daily Office shake the perceptions that I bring with me to my little prayer table by the window. It is one of the ways in which the Office leads us away from a focus on ourselves and toward others. Toward reality. Toward joy. Groaning, yes, but always with hope.

Like a tree.

It's enough to make me almost want to shout for joy, too.

Change You Can Believe In

2012-01-19T15:19:00.000-06:00

I love this ten-minute video, "Change for a Dollar." From the description: "Is he asking for Change, or is he asking for CHANGE? Follow a man as he affects multiple peoples' lives with just one dollar, proving that it doesn't take much to be the change in someone's life."

Sigurd and the Snow

2012-01-13T14:59:00.000-06:00


Sigurd Olson's final words left in his typewriter. Photo courtesy Tobias W.H. Tan.

Thirty years ago today, Sigurd Olson died. I remember when I got the news. I was working at the information counter in the textbook department of University Bookstore in Madison. It was late afternoon, not long before quitting time. I got a call from Judi, who had just seen the news in our afternoon paper, The Capital Times. I knew he hadn't been in the best of health, so it wasn't a total shock, but it still was a sad surprise.

The one thing that lessened the sting was to hear that he had died while snowshoeing. Years later, his son Sig Jr. would tell me that his dad had vowed to him that he would not die in some hospital or nursing home. "I'll crawl outside and die in a snowbank before I'll stay in bed and die," his dad had said.

Well, he did it. He had been in such poor health in recent months it was amazing he could even get his snowshoes on, but January 13, 1982, was evidently one of his increasingly rare good days. There is speculation in the family that he might have seen it as one of his last chances--either to see his treasured Caribou Creek once again, or to die the way he wanted, if death came his way.

When Sig Jr. flew down from Alaska the next day, he went into his dad's writing shack (a former single-car garage a few steps from the house) and found a sheet in the typewriter with the tantalizing sentence, "A New Adventure is coming up and I'm sure it will be a good one." Neither Sig Jr. nor his brother, Bob, believe the mystical interpretation that many have given it--that their dad foresaw and was writing about his death. Bob speculated that his dad had typed it up in advance and left it there as his "last words," just in case. In my biography of Sigurd, I end the book saying:

That last sentence, no matter its intent, remained intriguing not just because of the mystical interpretations of the faithful, but because it was one final instance in which Sigurd Olson the man satisfied the wishes of those who looked up to Sigurd Olson the icon. "Here he writes this," said Sigurd Jr., "and then he goes out and dies. You know, he did a lot of dramatic things in his life. It was almost as though that was part of the role, and he just kept with it right on up to the very end."

When Sigurd took that final snowshoe hike, it was not only a bright and sunny day, but a foot of fresh snow had just fallen. Sigurd loved the snow and cold. I was thinking about that yesterday, as I took a walk during our first snow of the winter. On December 6th, thinking that snow should be imminent, I posted a favorite passage that Sigurd wrote about the first snow. I still find it hard to believe that we went almost half of winter before it happened, but yesterday it finally came, and of course I took a walk to Grant Park.

Standing on the bluff overlooking Lake Michigan, I thought how much Sigurd would enjoy the moment. It wasn't a picturesque first snow--the flakes were small and slushy, not large and soft--but the stinging wind and the storm-shrouded horizon carried a special kind of wintry beauty. I was the only person around. I thought of Sigurd and the snow, and was grateful.

Maxwell Bushytail, RIP

2012-01-10T11:58:00.000-06:00

Maxwell Bushytail, May 28, 2000-January 9, 2012

I'm not a cat person. I like all animals, but in terms of choosing one as a member of the family, I'm much more likely to choose a dog.

But then there was Max--Maxwell Bushytail, as we often called him. It was August in the year 2000, and we had just had to put our dog Willie to sleep. It was the hardest thing Judi and I had ever had to do. Until last night, when we had to do it again.

When Willie died, we really weren't mentally ready to go out and get another dog. We thought we'd wait a while before getting any new pet. We'd had fish, rats, a variety of hamsters named Bob, and a psychotic rabbit, and didn't want to just jump in and get something new.

Well, that lasted one day. Then, a trip to the Humane Society--just looking, mind you--and we came away with a little black fur ball named Blackie. We were told he'd be a medium-sized cat. We renamed him Maxwell, and watched him grow. And grow. And grow. He became one of the largest cats we'd ever seen. And on the rare occasions we had to take him to the vet, the people there said he was the most beautiful cat they'd ever seen.

And he grew in our hearts as quickly as he grew in size.

Max was an indoor cat. He never went outside except a couple of times by accident, and one ill-fated attempt to walk him with a leash. But when he was a kitten he accompanied us on a Christmas trip to Florida to visit Judi's parents. That was an adventure! We tried to keep him in a carrying crate while in the car, but he carried on so much that we had to give up and let him out. He made quite an impression along I-65--truckers were evidently radioing each other about the kitty in the window, because when we'd pass them the drivers would look down for Max, and then wave.

We didn't de-claw him, so yes, he shredded the furniture. And as he got older he got more territorial, and so he wrecked the carpet, too, and didn't do my allergy and sinus trouble any favors. I hear that female cats are less likely to cause these kinds of problems. But in any case, the furniture still works, and the carpet is replaceable.

Not Max. He was one of a kind. He was a natural contemplative. Yes, he did enjoy playing, and at times, especially in his younger years, he'd run around the house like a loon. We called it "crazy kitty mode." But he loved to find a place--sometimes high up, sometimes on a bed or the floor--where he could survey his little corner of the world. He'd watch the cars go by, the people, the birds and squirrels. He'd watch us eat; he'd lay nearby while we watched TV. He loved to listen to music, whether it be one of our guitars or violins or the piano, or music played over the stereo.

He was a master of awareness, and a gifted teacher for those with eyes to see and a desire to learn.

A year-and-a-half ago, the vet told us that Max had cardiomyopathy, an incurable heart disease. We put him on heart medicine to help him, but cats often die within six months of being diagnosed, and nearly all within three years. Since that time, he had his ups and downs, but last night it suddenly hit him hard, right after dinner. We knew that the time had come. Judi was crying as she called the vet, and I was, too, holding Max. Soon we were at the vet's office, and within a short time it was over. Max didn't even notice the needle.

It is such an awesome, and awful, power--this decision of life or death. I am glad I am not God. I couldn't handle the job.

Today there is emptiness--an empty bed, an empty bowl, an emptiness when I made the coffee and he wasn't right there to ask for his morning treat. I'm not a cat person. But Max was family, and I am so sad. I know I'll spend some time thinking about St. Paul's letter to the Romans, and his recognition that all creation is groaning, and all creation will be transformed. But those are thoughts for another time. Right now I see the beautiful sun streaming through the window, casting bright warm patches on the floor. I know what Max would be doing. And for me, too, it is time--time to go out into the sun, bask in it, and pay attention to all the signs of life around me. Something I was taught by the largest, most beautiful black cat I have known, Maxwell Bushytail.

"We Want it to be Cold:" The Inuit Right to Culture Based on Ice and Snow

2012-01-03T12:55:00.001-06:00

Grant Park, Christmas Eve, 2011

"We want it to be cold."

Those words, spoken by an Inuit leader in Canada, came to me this morning as I sat at my little kitchen table, coffee cup in hand and the Daily Office open before me. Outside, the grass poked out through a light sprinkling of snow. Technically our first snow, there is not enough to cover even the cement, let alone the grass. But with it has come our first stretch of cold weather, with highs yesterday and today in the mid 20s. That's as much winter as we've had, and it will be gone again soon, as our highs get back to 40 degrees by Thursday and Friday. Next chance of snow: January 12th.

"We want it to be cold." Those words come from a speech by Sheila Watt-Cloutier that is one of the first pieces included in an excellent book called Moral Ground: Ethical Action for a Planet in Peril. It's one that I'm strongly considering using in the new course I'll be creating during my sabbatical. The book brings together views from more than eighty people from around the world, from religious leaders such as Pope John Paul II and the Dalai Lama, to political leaders such as Barack Obama, to scientists, journalists, business leaders and poets.

Of these early pieces in the book, the one by Sheila Watt-Cloutier is especially powerful to me because of the direct link she makes between climate change and culture. Her argument is very similar to that of Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI--that climate change is not simply an environmental issue, or an economic issue, but is also inherently a human rights issue. As Watt-Cloutier puts it:

The question always is, how can we bring some clarity and focus and purpose to a debate that always seems to be caught up in technical arguments and competing short-term economic ideologies? I believed strongly, and I still do, that it would be internationally significant if global climate change were debated and examined in the arena of human rights, an arena that many countries, particularly those in the developed world, say they "take seriously."

Repeat: environmental issues are never simply about the environment, as though humans are detached from the rest of creation. They are also about our cultures, and what it means to be human. When the climate changes in dramatic ways, we change, too. For those living along the northern rim of the world, where the temperature is warming at a much faster rate, their culture is in grave danger. As the ice breaks beneath them and swallows up Inuit hunters, as the snow arrives later and leaves earlier, as the permafrost melts, everything that has formed the basis of their language and spirituality and traditions is rapidly falling apart. It would be one thing if this were a natural climate change over which humans have no control, but to think that this is a direct result of human greed--and that there are powerful people who continue to deny even the existence of what the Inuit see on a daily basis--is incredibly sad. And it is a deep moral failing on the part of the wealthiest nations of the world, which have no excuse.

Sitting at my little table this morning, looking out at the trace of snow in my backyard, it was the Office of Readings that first brought Watt-Cloutier's words to mind. In the second reading, St. Augustine talks about how it is impossible to love the God we can't see, if we don't love the neighbor who we do see. says the following:

In loving your neighbor and caring for him you are on a journey. Where are you traveling if not to the Lord God, to him whom we should love with our whole heart, our whole soul, our whole mind? We have not yet reached his presence, but we have our neighbor at our side. Support, then, this companion of your pilgrimage if you want to come into the presence of the one with whom you desire to remain forever.

The Inuit are our neighbors, and it seems as though we are willing to let them die rather than choose to live more simply ourselves. This is a sign of a culture that has become spiritually destitute. But it does not have to be this way, and it is not too late for any of us to discover the joyful path of freedom. I saw it again this morning, during Morning Prayer. From Psalm 65:

You crown the year with your goodness.
Abundance flows in your steps,
in the pastures of the wilderness it flows.

The hills are girded with joy,
the meadows covered with flocks,
the valleys are decked with wheat.
They shout for joy, yes, they sing.

We, too, can shout for joy and sing, if we recognize the abundant goodness that is in us and around us, and the source from which it comes. We can begin to experience true freedom. There are people who are finding this freedom and joy even now. People from all parts of the world, from all cultures and religions. When they speak, they are worth listening to with an open mind and heart. Here, once again, is Sheila Watt-Cloutier, addressing fellow Inuit:

We have lived in the Arctic for millennia, and our culture and our economy reflects the land and all that it gives, and we are connected to our land, to our ice and to our snow. We want it to be cold. And our understanding of who we are and our age-old knowledge and wisdom comes from the land, and it is that struggle--and you all, I know, relate to this so well--to thrive in that kind of environment that gives us the answers. Always it gives us the answers that we need to survive in the modern world. Our young people, who are making it, are the ones that are spending as much time as they can out there, hunting and fishing and taking in what our elders are giving them, and it is that outlook, that respectful outlook that sees humans' connection to everything, that should be informing the debate on climate change, as these monumental changes absolutely threaten the memory of who we were, who we are, and all that we wish to become. And so we Inuit, and certainly many indigenous peoples from around the world and in the North, remain very connected with each other and with the land.

I always ask the global community, is it not to reestablish that connection that we are all here trying to deal with this issue? Is it not because people have lost that connection between themselves and their neighbors, between their actions and the environment, that we are debating this issue of climate change in the first place?

So I think that by putting the climate change in the arena of human rights, we have moved the focus from being solely that of a political, economic, and technical issue to one of human impacts and consequences that do affect our children, our families, and our communities. We must remain vigilant in keeping climate change as a human and human rights issue.

Hallelujah Chorus, Alaska Edition

2011-12-27T10:06:00.001-06:00

Today is the third day of the octave of Christmas--may it be full of blessings! This cute video, made last December by 5th graders for a school project in the Yupiq (Eskimo) village of Quinhagak, Alaska, was intended to be seen by about 200 people living in the area, but more than a million have watched it on Youtube.

Of Anniversaries, Sabbaticals, and the Next Year for New Wood

2011-12-20T09:59:00.003-06:00

New Melleray, Iowa, August 18, 2010

When I started this blog a year ago today, I didn't really have any particular expectations. I had no idea if it would catch anyone's attention, this single blade of grass in an immense field of blogs. It was something I felt I was being called to do, and I assumed that if I were right about that, it would reach whomever God wanted it to reach, whether that be one person or a thousand. And so I just plunged in.

I made myself one promise. For the first year, I would create a post every day. I knew I needed to do that in order to develop a better understanding of blogging, a better sense of what I wanted New Wood to be about, and to get back into the writing habit after a few years of focusing on other things. I am happy on this first anniversary that I was able to stick to that. It turned out to be quite a bit harder than I anticipated! To post every day on the topics I blog about requires becoming a news junkie to a significantly greater degree than I already was, and that's saying a lot. I am glad that I gave myself this immersion experience for a year, but now I am ready for a different approach.

As it happens, today also is the beginning of a sabbatical for me. I won't be teaching next semester or during the summer, so I'll have more than eight months with just one university-related task: to create a new course. The tentative course name is "The American Dream, the Media, and the Fate of the Earth." I already have a long list of books to read and documentaries to watch as I gather ideas and information to use in the course.

But a sabbatical isn't simply about work with a different focus. As its root word Sabbath implies, it is a time of rest and renewal, a time to recover a healthy balance in life. I want to live this sabbatical in the spirit of Sabbath, to make it a spiritual journey as much as an intellectual one, and to come away from it with a renewed sense of meaning and purpose that will infuse my teaching, ministry, and relationships.

New Wood will continue, just at a slower pace--a pace much more in keeping with its underlying spiritual message. I'll probably post at least once a week, but I'm going to play it by ear. I want to make sure I make the most of this opportunity to take a sabbatical, and immerse myself in the Sabbath spirit, and then try to keep that spirit alive long after the sabbatical is over.

For those of you who are regular readers, if you haven't already done so you might want to consider taking steps to be notified of new posts, rather than checking the main page each day. I really like Google Reader, which can keep track of many sites at once. I just go to my Google Reader account, and can see at a glance which blog or news site has new content since I last checked, and how many items. Then when I click on that particular site within the Reader, I get a list of the titles of the new articles in boldface (with older ones in normal font below them). It is an easy way to decide which might be relevant to my interests, and I can either read them right on Google Reader or click through to the original site.

One way of adding New Wood into a Google Reader account, or to a variety of other types of available readers, is to click on the "Posts" button right below the "Subscribe to New Wood" heading on the right side of this page. Another way is to copy and paste the main page link for New Wood into the "add site" box in your Google Reader account.

If you use Facebook, there is also a New Wood page you can check when you're on Facebook. Anytime I post on New Wood I put a link there, so that can be an easy way of quickly seeing if there is anything new, and if it might be something you're interested in looking at. And if you "like" the page, then those links will scroll across your Facebook news feed. I also put the links on my personal Facebook page, and post them on Twitter as well.

Of course, you're welcome to simply come here and scroll through the main page, too.

Peace to you and yours as Advent comes to a close, and a joyful Christmas!

The Present Moment

2011-12-19T10:48:00.001-06:00

The Muslim Sufi mystic Uwais al-Qarni, who lived in Yemen in the 7th Century, was once asked, "What has grace brought you?"

Uwais answered, "When I wake up in the morning I feel like a man who is not sure he will live until evening."

"But doesn't everyone know this?" asked his visitor.

"Of course," said Uwais. "But not all of them feel it."

We are all going to die. But we find all kinds of ways to hide the reality of it. And this, in turn, leads to a cheapening of the present moment. Our efforts to hide the reality of death provide part of the explanation for our fast-paced, aggressively materialistic culture. It turns us from human beings into human doings. When we allow the reality of death to penetrate our consciousness in a healthy way it does not lead to morbid thoughts or anxiety. It helps us powerfully to experience the grace of the present moment. It helps us to become fully human beings.

Sabbath Interlude: Comfort and Joy - James Taylor

2011-12-18T10:00:00.002-06:00

May your final week of Advent be one of comfort and joy, a week of waiting in blessed hope. The Lord is nearer than you think!

Witness to Wonder, #29

2011-12-17T09:10:00.001-06:00

Margerie Glacier, Glacier Bay National Park, Alaska, July 3, 2006

The Blessing Chronicles, #30

2011-12-16T09:45:00.001-06:00

Spiders of the Lord, bless the Lord! Praise and exalt him above all forever.

Lord, bless this little spider that has made a home in this window next to where I am doing Morning Prayer. Bless it and all spiders, and help humans to overcome their fears and see the wondrous aspects of this creature of yours. I ask this in Jesus' name. Amen.

Have you given a blessing yet today? Become part of the blessing revolution!

The Man Who Planted Trees

2011-12-15T09:43:00.000-06:00

As we come to the end of the International Year of Forests, I am happy to be able to promote a short film that I first saw many years ago and recently re-discovered on YouTube. It's a wonderful animated story about a man whose experiences in nature bring healing to his war-torn soul, and who in turn brings beauty and joy to many others. It is narrated by Christopher Plummer. It runs about a half hour, split into two parts. You'll need to turn your volume all the way up, as the sound is very quiet. The second part is below.

God's First Language is Silence

2011-12-14T09:04:00.001-06:00

To see larger versions, click here.

Today is the feast day of one of the greatest mystics the world has ever known, St. John of the Cross. It was nearly 25 years ago that I bought a copy of his collected works from a bookstore in Madison. Soon I was reading The Ascent of Mount Carmel, The Dark Night, and The Spiritual Canticle. I had learned of him through reading Thomas Merton, and I was ready to begin going deeper into contemplative and mystical spirituality. Not that it was easy reading, by any means, but it struck a deep chord in me and played an important role in my spiritual renewal of that period. And just as I am beginning to reread Merton, I should return to St. John of the Cross' writings again, for I'm sure I will gain many new insights after so long a time. Here's a good brief sketch of the man:

Juan de Yepes became a Carmelite friar at the age of twentyone. Though the Spanish Carmelites were renowned for their interior prayer, by John’s day they had become lax and complacent. The turning point in his life came in 1567 when he was introduced to Teresa of Avila, leader of a Carmelite reform movement and one of the great figures of her age. Despite the fact of his recent ordination and a gap of twentyseven years between them, Teresa recognized in John a kindred spirit, and she asked him to be her confessor and to initiate a parallel reform to her female Discalced (“shoeless”) Carmelites.

In this era of the Inquisition spiritual innovation was a dangerous matter, and John’s own brothers recoiled from his reforming efforts. He was kidnapped and imprisoned for nine months in a dungeon, living on only bread and water. Though he made a miraculous escape, it was not the end of his sufferings,and he continued to endure ill treatment until his death at the age of forty-nine.

All the while John composed mystical treatises of astonishing psychological insight and poetic power. His subject: the path by which the soul is united in love with God—a journey that is marked by stripping and desolation as much as periods of joy. For these writings, especially his classic reflections on the “Dark Night of the Soul,” he was not only canonized but proclaimed a Doctor of the Church.

--Give Us This Day--

The Durban Climate Change Conference and the Tyranny of the Present

2011-12-12T20:24:00.000-06:00

From LINGO: Leaving it IN the Ground cOalition

The Time Magazine headline says it all: "U.N. Global-Warming Talks: Good for Diplomats, Indifferent for the Climate."

Perhaps another way of putting it would be: "I traveled halfway across the world to discuss the coming climate catastrophe, and all I got was this lousy T-shirt."

In some ways, that's too harsh, and there were some incremental steps taken that even climate activists can applaud, but basically the world's nations spent two weeks of intense negotiating to come away with the stunning agreement that, well, they'll keep talking--and perhaps, just perhaps, might even do something more significant by the year 2020.

The most frustrated people there were those representing the island nations whose very existence is in jeopardy from rising sea levels, those representing the other poor nations of the world, and the young, whose future will be greatly restricted because of the short-sightedness of their elders. Not surprising, then, that perhaps the most impassioned speech came from a college student named Anjali Appadurai, who attends the College of the Atlantic in Bar Harbor, Maine. Here's her short but powerful speech:

Every year we put off action, the worse the coming climate disruptions will be, and the harder it will be to prevent or lessen them. As the widely respected and normally very reserved and proper International Energy Agency recently put it, "If fossil fuel infrastructure is not rapidly changed, the world will ‘lose for ever’ the chance to avoid dangerous climate change." The IEA concluded, "Delaying action is a false economy: for every $1 of investment in cleaner technology that is avoided in the power sector before 2020, an additional $4.30 would need to be spent after 2020 to compensate for the increased emissions."

I was moved by this statement on intergenerational rights that I found on the Durban Climate Justice site, and will close with it:

A Statement on Intergenerational Rights

Let us not forget that the victories that will define 2011 in the pages of history began in Africa. That story of 2011 should end here. 2011 took us from Tunisia to Durban, South Africa – where Mandela cast his first vote and Gandhi held his first public meeting. Draw a line on the map from Tunis to Durban and think of all the languages you have crossed, all the diversity, all the wisdom, all the gods. There is a continent bridging those two cities – dreaming. We are all in that dream.

2011 started with the demand for freedom, and ends with the demand for justice.

As our planet rampantly burns its insides and warms, history will view these years as a window closing. We have a chance to escape the catastrophe we are creating for our children. But there is no freedom without justice, and no justice without rights.

For our rights thrive, we must be guardians of their principles. Freedom is bigger than us – it is the architecture our dreams inhabit. It does not belong to us anymore than a house built of stone belongs to its inhabitant. Rights belong to the generations that will come after us. Justice grows like a garden, we water it with our wills. As each day passes, a window is closing and with it the justice that we will pass on to the future inhabitants of this world. Justice loses its meaning if it is stolen from the future.

Here in Africa, the well of hope is drying. People are being forced away from the land of their ancestors and have been sent wandering with nothing, into a darkening world.

Our planet is changing, and with it the story of human rights. Here in Africa, the river beds are already drying and the seedlings that we watered for the future, are wilting. We do not rob water from the cups of others, we divert the streams. Climate change is the tyranny of the present over the rights of the future. In Africa, the future is already here.

Human rights are universal, they exist not only to everyone who is alive – but to everyone who will ever live. No one is free until everyone is free.

Godspell Flash Mob

2011-12-12T09:07:00.001-06:00

I loved the original Godspell when it came out in the '70s. I didn't see the actual stage production, just the film adaptation, but I loved its joyful, humble, simple spirituality. I bought the album, and several decades later I still listen to it, especially in Advent.

Well, a Broadway revival of Godspell just opened in November. I love they way they promoted it with the flash mob shown in the video above. And down below is an official preview. Happy Third Week of Advent!

Sabbath Interlude: "Christmas in the Trenches," by John McCutcheon

2011-12-11T07:07:00.000-06:00

This song has long been a favorite in our house. Based on a true story from World War I.