Dancing with Doom
The earth was entrusted to us in order that it be mother for us, capable of giving to each one what is necessary to live.…The earth is generous and holds nothing back from those who safeguard it. The earth, which is mother of all, asks for respect, not violence.
—Pope Francis, Our Mother Earth
In his new book Life After Doom, CAC Dean of Faculty Brian McLaren names the anxiety many feel when acknowledging the suffering of the Earth:
You woke up again this morning with that familiar un-peaceful, uneasy, unwanted feeling. You wonder what to do about it. You suspect that if you pay attention to it, it will unleash some inner turmoil….
It’s anxiety that we feel, yes, and a tender, sweet, piercing sadness, not just for ourselves, but also for everyone and everything everywhere, all at once.…
We feel this doom because we are awake, at least partially awake.…
The open secret of doom finds us everywhere. Trees tremble as they tell us about it, weeping. Water whispers it to us. Birds and insects testify about it through the heartbreaking silence that speaks of their absence. Forgotten forests, bulldozed into shiny new housing developments, haunt us like ghosts. Even though politicians try to distract us with their daily gush of hot air, the scorching winds of a destabilized climate breathe the chilling truth down our necks.…
Here’s one thing I’ve learned already: when you dance with doom, doom changes you.
Yes, it can change you for the worse…. But the dance can also change you for the better, leaving you more humble and honest, more thoughtful and creative, more compassionate and courageous … wiser, kinder, deeper, stronger … more connected, more resilient, more free, more human, more alive. [1]
Reflecting on the apocalyptic literature of the Bible, Richard Rohr reminds us that there is a purpose to naming what can feel like the end of times:
Apocalyptic means to pull back the veil, to reveal the underbelly of reality. It’s meant to shock. Apocalypse is for the sake of birth, not death. In Mark 13, Jesus says “Stay awake” four times in the last paragraph (Mark 13:32–37). In other words, “Learn the lesson that this has to teach you.” It points to everything that we take for granted and says, “Don’t take anything for granted.” An apocalyptic event flips our imagination and reframes reality in a radical way.
We would have done history a great favor if we would have understood apocalyptic literature. It’s not meant to strike fear in us as much as a radical rearrangement. It’s not the end of the world. It’s the end of worlds—our worlds that we have created.
Our best response is to end our fight with reality-as-it-is. We will benefit from anything that approaches a welcoming prayer—diving into the change positively, preemptively, saying, “Come, what is; teach me your good lessons.” Saying yes to “What is” ironically sets us up for “What if?”
Welcoming Reality
Brian McLaren offers the phrase “welcome to reality” as a helpful acknowledgment of the devastation and uncertainty that the increasing climate crisis brings:
Our global civilization as currently structured is unstable and unsustainable. Ecologically, our civilization sucks out too many of the Earth’s resources for the Earth to replenish, and it pumps out too much waste for the Earth to detoxify. Economically, our civilization’s financial systems are complex, interconnected, fragile, and deeply dependent on continual economic growth. Without continual economic growth, financial systems will stumble toward collapse. But with economic growth, we intensify and hasten ecological collapse. In addition, our global economic systems distribute more and more money and power to those who already have it, creating a small network of elites who live in luxury and share great political power, while billions live in or near poverty with little political power…. As we face increasing ecological and economic instability, social unrest and conflict will also increase.… [1]
Welcome to reality.
That simple phrase … helps me slow down for a few moments and acknowledge that we do know some things with high levels of confidence. (For example, we know carbon dioxide and methane in the atmosphere trap heat; we know water melts at 32 degrees Fahrenheit or 0 degrees Celsius; we know several different ways to produce electricity.) But about other things, we have much less certainty.
When I say “welcome to reality,” I am saying, “Welcome, self, to reality, both what I know and what I don’t know.” And I am also saying, “Welcome, reality, whatever you are, both known and unknown, into my awareness.”
To hold both knowing and unknowing in a delicate, dynamic, and highly creative tension … that is one of the primary skills we will need if we want to live with courage and wisdom in an unstable climate, whatever scenario unfolds.
We need to face what we know. And we need to face what we don’t know. Only what is faced can be changed. That is why I say, and I hope you will join me, welcome to reality. [2]
Father Richard describes how contemplation helps us meet and welcome reality:
Contemplation is meeting as much reality as we can handle in its most simple and immediate form, without filters, judgments, and commentaries. Contemplation allows us to recognize and relativize our own compulsive mental grids—our practiced ways of judging, critiquing, and computing everything—as well as blocking what we don’t want to see.
This is what we’re trying to do when we practice contemplative prayer, which is why people addicted to their own mind and opinions will find contemplation most difficult, if not impossible. No wonder it is so rare and, in fact, “the narrow road that few walk on” (Matthew 7:14).
When our judgmental grid and all its commentaries are placed aside, God finally has a chance to get through to us, because our narcissism and pettiness are at last out of the way. Then Truth stands revealed! [3]
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| Farms and Factories |
 Jesus’ parables often used agricultural themes for an obvious reason—he lived in a pre-industrial society. A mechanized vision of the world would not emerge until after the Enlightenment still over 1600 years away. Nonetheless, once immersed in his stories about seeds, and harvests, and sowers it becomes apparent that his use of such metaphors was more than cultural. Many of these stories emphasize a quality inherent to both agriculture and God’s kingdom—mystery.We live in a time when faith, along with nearly everything else, has become industrialized. We expect there to be a proven formula or process that will produce the outcomes we desire, and when the outcomes do not meet our expectations it is our responsibility to tweak the system that produced them. This is why so many ministries operate as factories seeking to make disciples like widgets on an assembly line. It’s also why we approach God like a natural force to be studied, mastered, and controlled rather than as a person with whom we relate. Mystery has been driven out of religion and replaced by mechanics.Jesus’ stories about the kingdom of God, however, not only allow space for mystery, they emphasize it as an inescapable reality. The growth of God’s kingdom is not like marketing a new Frappuccino or launching a tech start-up, no matter what the latest celebrity pastor on the conference circuit may say. It is more like the invisible germination of a seed deep under the soil; a tiny force that, through no effort by the farmer, grows into an immense tree. Jesus’ stories are designed to humble human agency, not systematize it.It is worth remembering that all of the essential doctrines of Christianity are immeasurable, sometimes paradoxical, mysteries. Has anyone yet grasped the eternal union of one God as three persons? Who has delineated the nature of Jesus as both fully God and fully man? After two millennia we still argue about the interplay of human will and divine sovereignty, and fellowships are bonded or broken over our feeble attempts to explain what exactly happened, or did not happen, on that old rugged cross. If salvation, humanity, and God himself are enveloped by impenetrable mystery, why do we assume faith and ministry—which stand at the intersection of all three—can be engaged with certainty and control?As we begin to explore Jesus’ parables about the kingdom, we must release our desire for certainty and open ourselves to the wonder and mystery of the God who is beyond our comprehension. DAILY SCRIPTURE MARK 4:26-29 1 CORINTHIANS 3:5-9 ISAIAH 55:6-11 WEEKLY PRAYER From Clement of Alexandria (150 – 215) Be kind to your little children, Lord. Be a gentle teacher, patient with our weakness and stupidity. And give us the strength and discernment to do what you tell us, and so grow in your likeness.May we all live in the peace that comes from you. May we journey toward your city, sailing through the waters of sin untouched by the waves, borne serenely along by the Holy Spirit. Night and day may we give you praise and thanks, because you have shown us that all things belong to you, and all blessings are gifts from you. To you, the essence of wisdom, the foundation of truth, be glory for evermore.Amen. |
