Video poem from Geo-Justice
As expected, President Trump removed the United States from participation in the Paris Climate Accord. This decision was based on greed and on adherence to what is most dangerous to the well-being of our fragile planet. Such an act stands in opposition to what is most prophetic in America.
This outrageous choice makes no economic or planetary sense.
It contradicts the best of the scientific and social visionaries alive today. It disregards all of Al Gore’s climate change initiatives, and places the future of our planet and its people in greater jeopardy. It ignores Johanna Macy’s vision of the great turning. It makes Thomas Berry’s dream of the Earth become instead a nightmare for humanity. The fact that the very day of Trump’s withdrawal from the Paris Accord fell on the eighth anniversary of Thomas’s passing is ironic, to say the least.
I can feel the pain of this disastrous choice. Yet, as I contemplate the significance of this moment, I nevertheless look for reasons to feel encouraged. I think about the sun’s generous gift, about the beauty of the flower outside my window, about the spontaneity of the child who lives with her parents down the hall.
And especially, I am inspired by the numerous people who gather here and around the country, motivated by genuine love for the Earth. These people are our hope for the future. They are dedicated to preserving the sacredness of life, so that future generations may live in a truly participatory democracy, where people recognize and listen to one another. They dream of a world whose first act is compromise and whose organization is founded on justice making.
The toxic news of the day may assail me, but I also cannot ignore the goodness of the people I see around me. I feel hopeful seeing something precious and new bubbling up at a grassroots level. I pray that the future will more just, that people will be more engaged, that our journey together will continue, and that our tomorrows will be better than all our pasts.
Video poem from Geo-Justice
When President Trump recently met Pope Francis, the pope gave him a copy of his prophetic message to the world: Laudato Si’: On Care for Our Common Home. In this encyclical, penned two years ago, the pope described climate change as a real and substantiated issue, with human causes. He called upon the world to work toward a solution, and to do so before the current crisis becomes a full-blown, irreversible catastrophe for the planet. Now, in what can only be considered a not-so-subtle message, the pope has given this encyclical to the president—supposedly the “leader of the free world”—a man who has not only stated that he does not believe in climate change, but who has also chosen many others sharing that belief to hold important decision-making positions in his administration.
I am stunned by the contrast between these two men—the pope and the president—and all the more so after seeing reports about their recent meeting. Pope Francis’s very being espouses love and mercy. He is humble, he is modest, he values simplicity. In his compassion, we see him greeting Trump, a man who seems determined to use his power to undermine what is good and just in the world.
While the pope as pontifex maximus is the great bridge builder between cultures, religions, and people, Trump’s signature cause is the building of walls. The wall between Mexico and this country is one physical example, but the walls of divisiveness take many forms. Even in his short time in office, Trump has engaged in a relentless campaign to silence the free press and to fracture the functioning of a viable democracy. He has distanced this country from our allies. By the time you read these words, he may have withdrawn the U.S. from the Paris Agreement on climate change. We hear daily of his efforts to extinguish social initiatives and to take health care and other vital services from those who need them most, while at the same time adding to the coffers of the wealthy. And all this from the man who pledged to drain the swamp.
We have to wonder: will the pope’s not-so-subtle message have an impact on the president? Time will tell. In the meanwhile, now is the time to push back against regressive changes. We must respond in concert with the invitation of Pope Francis—by acting as people of mercy; by protecting the beauty of creation, as manifest in every rose, child, river, and tree; by remembering the goodness of life and invoking the gracious presence of an ever-loving God; and by actively resisting all agendas that threaten the future of the world as we know it.
Video poem from Geo-Justice.
Video poem from Geo-Justice...
This poem appears in Geo-Justice.
With gratitude and grace, we celebrate the story of creation, liberation, and us.
In blessing and brokenness, we restore hunger for newness, boiling from the wellsprings of our souls. Here, within wonder and surprise, we rediscover hope and recognize once more the signature of God.
From our awareness of beauty and brokenness, rivers of grace flow into our hearts to heal, purify, and bring justice to the world. Through the emergence of harmony, we behold balance, peace, and beauty flow into our hearts and across the land.
We rejoice when all members of the Earth community have a place to raise their young, a shelter from the elements, and the opportunity for a meaningful life. As we venture forth today, the words of soon-to-be-canonized St. Oscar Romero dance across our awareness and pulsate in our hearts, with the promise of a meaningful future yet to be realized on this Easter journey.
He writes: “By overcoming self, one achieves the Easter resurrection. As we prepare once again to celebrate the resurrection, we reflect on our lives and ask guidance from the universe and cosmic Christ as we make our Easter journey this day."
[Mural depicting Archbishop Oscar Romero outside the San Salvador hospital where he was killed while celebrating Mass, March 24, 1980. CNS photo]
It was summer 1970. I was a student at the Canadian Urban Training Project for Christian Service in Toronto. The director, Dr. Ed File, minister of the United Church of Canada, had prepared us for what he called the “urban plunge.” We were to go into the ghettos with $5 in our pockets and interact with the displaced persons we found there. The goal was to see people as they really are within a corporate system that necessitates winners and losers, rather than projecting stereotypes on them.
One evening, after going into the chapel for a bible service, I received a ticket and was assigned a bunk bed. As I sat on my perch on the upper bunk, I looked around the room and composed this poem:
Monks of Skid Row
A strange breed of monks,
these 12,000 derelicts of life,
these lovable, genial, isolated human beings.
They live with a past not to be forgotten,
a present built out of isolation,
a future that promises and hopes
for nothing.
These monks of the inner city
are more alone than the strictest contemplative,
often more redeemed
as they traffic in their currency of cigarettes.
Where to get beer, a bed, a meal, a job
and sometimes money?
They are selfless and concerned,
these islands of humanity,
boasting of a day’s work
and regretting a wasted life.
They trust NO ONE as they walk
their silent world of pain and fear,
this order of the street,
people without futures, without rights.
Poor, pushed, passed by and possessed
by those who provide beds and food,
keeping them on one aimless
treadmill of life.
Whenever I enter a jewelry store, instinctively I migrate to the display case that contains watches. I gaze at the Bulova, Rolex, and others. In my mind’s eye, I imagine myself with one of these fine timepieces on my wrist.
When I emerge from this timepiece trance and wander down the street, I ask myself why I’m so fascinated with and attracted to a watch. In that instant, my mind goes back to one evening in a cosmology class when the question was posed: “What time is it in the universe?”
As we reflected on our different understandings of time, one person spoke up: “There is circular time. This notion of time marks the recurring seasons: spring, summer, autumn, and winter. There are also the dawn and dusk of each day.” The rhythms of time are celebrated by monastic communities who chant Matins in the morning, Vespers in the evening, and Compline at night.”
We recalled the words of Albert Einstein: “Time has no independent existence apart from the order of events by which we measure it.”
There is also the notion of deep time, which can be understood as developmental time. From this perspective, we reflect on the transformational moment of each chapter in the great story about which Thomas Berry spoke, back to the origin of time—that moment of the great flaring forth when time began.
As I gaze at the decades-old wristwatch on my wrist to see what time it is today, I wonder what deep time story it has to tell. It is perhaps the story of the great live oak standing stately in the field, which I pass by every morning. It is also the story of the original supernova event, 14 billion years ago, when out of nothingness, the elements emerged. Hydrogen and helium were cooked in the intense heat of the great flaring forth. The solar system came into being. In the planetary geological event, Earth was ushered into existence. This first chapter of the great universe story has been told by physicists and astronomers.
As the waters bathed planet Earth, life appeared. Then after a long generative time, beings with self-reflective consciousness rose up in Africa and walked upon the land. With the rise of consciousness came culture, language, story, the practice of fire building, and the formation of habitat. These chapters are explained to us by biologists, anthropologists, and others.
Ilia Delio says, “The embodied person that you are at this very moment—all the constituents that would eventually come together into the person that is you—was present at the Big Bang.”
Reflecting on this progression of time, we remember that we are all members of and scribes for its great genealogical story. It is the story of our sacred origins, a narrative of our unfolding in time, and a revelatory tale that holds glimpses of the future.
This great deep time story provides a perspective and a context for the discovery of where we are now. It is a profound reminder that we belong here, and that we’ve always belonged here. The birds in the air, the fish in the sea, and all who walked upon the Earth remind us that we are all cousin and kin.
It is in and through the universe story that it is possible to transcend the consumer-driven society in which we live today, and to become poets of each evolutionary moment who engage wholeheartedly in a joyful journey of destiny and purpose.
It is a thrilling realization that we are alive today, at that precise moment of collective destiny. As we celebrate the consciousness of a time developmental universe, we let go of any notion of a mechanistic, clockwork God. We sink instead into an awareness of the vast enveloping presence who calls us forward, with a profound realization that we were born into a time developmental universe.
With this awareness, we honor those who have come before. We become more deeply immersed in the unfolding of history that Thomas Berry referred to as “those overarching movements that give shape and meaning to life by relating the human venture to the larger destinies of the universe.” We experience the magnetic intuition that calls us forward to experience the mysterious qualities of the universe. And we take to heart the words of Barack Obama, who said, “Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time.”
As we look back in time, we seek explanations for the ecological devastation and cultural pathology we witness around us. One explanation is that we as a people have an inadequate understanding of time. Perhaps we have lost our organic sense of time.
Our world—and you and I within it—have abandoned the tradition notion of cyclical time and replaced it with mechanical time.
As a child, I recall how farmers’ lives were guided by the rhythms of nature. The farmers I visited as a child lived by the seasons. They knew when to plant, when to plow, and when to harvest. They would peer into the sky, feel the breeze on their face, and receive guidance for the next morning.
When I was a student working in a laboratory in Canada’s chemical valley, however, no longer did I see the rhythm of the seasons and of dawn and dusk guiding life. Our practices were guided by the clock; factories were operated by employees who worked on shifts: day (8–4), afternoons (4–12), and night (12–8). Such activity in industry and commerce has contributed immensely to the conditions that have diminished the quality of life.
One great lesson available to us today is to ask “What time is it in the universe?”
The response can be to contemplate the irreversible evolutionary developmental time whose path forward is at the threshold of each new emergent moment. That moment is not guided by the clock on the wall or watch on the wrist, but by our awareness of deep time. That time before time is simultaneously the instant when the galaxies were born, when life emerged on planet Earth, and when the universe gave birth to you and me. As we enter deep time, we become citizens of the universe and are called forth to leave our healing mark on the as-yet-to-be-realized future.
Resting in my apartment in Berkeley,
I scan the images and artifacts,
each a memory from the past.
Pictures of Richard and Elizabeth,
reminders of Ireland and New Zealand,
the Thomas Berry award,
photos of days in school:
grade school in Sombra,
classmates at St. Peter’s,
teammates in baseball
at Corunna, Wilkesport, Waubuno and Wallaceburg.
As I immerse my mind
in memories and portraits of the past,
My eye focuses
on the grandfather clock in the corner.
For a moment, I wonder about
the many 100-year stories it can tell:
stories of organic time when my ancestors lived,
their lives guided by the seasons, by dawn and dusk
by the creative wisdom of each emergent moment.
When we know our beginnings
and become aware of where we are now,
we are prompted by each new moment
calling us forward
into an as-yet-to-be-realized developmental future.
The indigenous mind sees the divine in many manifestations. Each unique expression—be it a rock, water, or tree—is beautiful in God’s sight.
Some years ago, I participated in a program whose focus was justice and the cosmos. There, I discovered another name for justice; that name is beauty. When I later reflected on the universe and the Earth, I realized that they flow out of the divine imagination and bathe us all in a shimmering cloak of beauty.
Beauty also flows into our lives through the song of a robin, the gurgle of a brook, and the gift of music. We receive beauty, for instance, through the melodious response of Paul Winters, who with his alto clarinet echoes the sounds of the forest. We likewise receive it through the songs of the wolf, the elephant. and the eagle.
Beauty reveals itself to us when we ponder deeply as the mystery of mathematics flows into our soul through the amazing harmony of numbers, symbols, and sound.
Beauty is available to us in each sacred moment when we gather as friends of God and prophets to create together the conditions in which beauty can shine forth.
Today it suddenly came to me that we have received the gift of beauty from our ancestors, the First Nation’s people, and all God’s creatures who preceded us on planet Earth. As they walked, flew, swam, built homes, cared for their young, each brought his or her gift of beauty to this land.
During these days at Springbank, we become more and more aware that we also are living on this land to bring forth beauty into the world.
Philosopher and poet John O’Donohue writes, “The beautiful stirs passion and urgency in us…. It unites us again with the neglected and forgotten grandeur of life.” As I contemplate his words, I arrive at the awareness that each expression is itself beautiful in its own way.
I am thrilled to announce once again to the world that “Black is beautiful.” And I also wish to add, “so are Red, Brown, Yellow, and White.”
As we gain an enhanced appreciation of beauty, it becomes clear that it is revealed to us in very different ways. When the celebrant at Bernstein’s Mass dropped the crystal chalice on the terrazzo floor, he gazed at the glistening crystals and at all who gathered in the cathedral that amazing day, and proclaimed, “I never thought that brokenness could be so beautiful.”
Beauty is indeed a mystery and a great gift; we can say with confidence that beauty happens when we discover that we are truly ourselves and allow our gifts to shine through. The same is true of the oak tree, the vegetables in Sr. Barbara’s garden, the luscious food prepared at Sr. Mary Dean’s table, the Taiji we practice in the morning with Sr. Trina, the healing oils of Sr. Theresa as they activate the vibrational energy, and the healing presence of Marcia on the land as she gives her gift to beautify this plantation place.
In and through the memories of each indigenous mind we reactivate the ancestral grace of those who have gone on before, and today activate our memories of a world of beauty, wonder, and belonging.
This morning as I gazed out the eastern window to welcome the morning sun, I experienced a felt sense of the divine as beauty adorning the forest and the fields below. I felt their beauty flow gently upon my heart and soul.
As I contemplate that moment, I ask, “Is not our gift to the world our capacity to create the conditions for beauty to shine forth?”
When at Springbank we create a piece of pottery, share the Elm Dance ritual, journey along the Cosmic Walk, or witness the presence and practice of the Medicine Wheel, we are immersed in the elements of earth, air, fire, and water. We become creators of beauty in the world and the bioregion and place where we are meant to be.
The following ritual can be practiced in a group or alone.
1. In a circle, take a step back and audibly announce the names of your mother and father.
2. Continue to take another step back and announce in turn your maternal grandparents and fraternal grandparents (by name if you know that). Continue to step backward into your great grandparents and others in your ancestral lineage (again, you don’t need to know their names to do this).
3. With each step, ponder what you know or imagine was your ancestors’ relationship to the land where they lived and to both the challenges and gifts of their era.
4. When you have moved backward as far as your memory can recall, begin to take steps forward to experience the memory of your ancestors and the gifts you inherited from them. Recall the beauty of their lives and give thanks to them for bringing beauty to the planet and to your life.
5. Celebrate, too, the beauty that is your gift to the planet and that you bring with you today and every day. That gift of beauty awaits those as yet unborn of every species.
We enter each day into what Thomas Berry prophesized in his later years would be “a new era of anxiety.” This anxiety has been heightened in ways even he may not have anticipated by the Trump effect.
We are seeing around us now a new order of chaos. Immigrants are faced with deportations that will tear their families apart. Religious organizations are threatened and cemeteries vandalized. The institutions of the government, press, and finance are being destabilized. Our foundational principles of democracy are being threatened.
In some cases, new leaders are going so far as to alter institutions so they oppose their original purpose. For example, Scott Pruitt, the head of the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), an agency purposed with protecting against climate change, is himself a climate change denier. Rick Perry, the head of the Department of Energy, wanted to eliminate that department. Jeff Sessions, whose record of racism, sexism, and the denial of civil rights is notorious, is empowered to rule on questions of justice and rights.
At this critical moment, I ask, how can people who were raised as Christians and Catholics stand by and let such chaos occur? How can they allow freedom and democracy to be at risk?
As I see it, the problem is an old worldview that champions death rather than life.
With this worldview, we believe that God created a perfect world, a place of happiness and eternal reward. We see human death and cultural death as doorways to the rapture and eternal bliss. Theology, fairness, justice, and peace have no place in this worldview because they are seen as obstacles to eternal life.
This is not the worldview taught by Jesus. He questioned oppression and advocated for the poor. He invited us to become beatitude people. Perhaps he would caution us not to argue and shout, but rather to listen to and talk with those we oppose. He would ask us to reflect on the principle that the opposition often does the right thing for the wrong reason.
I believe Jesus would find comfort in the peaceful resistance rising up all over the country in response to the Trump effect. We see this in the town halls of elective representatives; in the new movements for justice; and in the actions of those supporting immigrants, Muslims, First Nation’s people, the environment, and more.
Each day, we have a choice. We can hold onto an old worldview or we can let the divine creative energy burst forth in our souls, dissolve all our rigid thoughts, and welcome a future that is filled with zest for life.
My publisher is preparing publication of a new edition of my 1990 title, Geo-Justice, which will come out in May. Together with my editor, I have been busy updating the manuscript. What is so exciting about this project is that Pope Francis has embraced the driving insight of the book--that we cannot have social justice without environmental justice. Neither can be separated from the other. The two form a seamless garment of love and compassion. Watch this space for more information on the book.
I sit here in my apartment in Berkeley, California. It is a rain-soaked day, and a day of sharp contrasts.
President Barack Obama has just given his farewell address. With his orator’s gifts in great display, he urges us not to let fear crush the democratic process, but rather to increase our involvement as citizens so we can make this world a better place. I hear again the cry I heard more than eight ago, when I gathered with thousands on the campus of UC Berkeley to hear his prophetic words. Tonight he repeated his encouraging mantra, “Yes we can! Yes we can!” Only now it’s a different day, and the start of a very different era.
Earlier today, the incoming president held what was called a press conference. It was almost an hour of adversarial back and forth, filled with denials, contradictions, and half-truths. It was a virulent attack on the free press, whose democratic responsibility is to speak truth to power. The most important questions were left either avoided or unanswered.
Yes, we live in anxious and uncertain times. America’s 240-year-old record of democracy has reached a dangerously precarious moment.
Today I also watched the hearings for the candidates the president elect has put forth for his cabinet. If approved, these individuals will be called upon to deal with far-ranging questions regarding social justice, civil rights, immigration, and racial equality. My heart sank at the introduction of each new candidate because, in almost every case, his record stands in staunch opposition to the Constitution he must promise to uphold. For example, the candidate who would be tasked with protecting the environment is a man who publicly denies scientifically proven climate change. The candidate for attorney general has a long history of racism and bigotry. I feel moral outrage as I see how their words and deeds stand in opposition to the gospel view that is revealed in scripture.
Sitting here now, I pick up my copy of the latest issue of the National Catholic Reporter, the most progressive periodical of the American Catholic church. Throughout its pages are articles about gun laws, the death penalty, ecology, and the future of the church. One article that catches my eye is about the grassroots leaders who will be gathering in Modesto, California in February.
This will be a regional meeting to support popular movements from around the world, and it is being cosponsored by the PICO National Network of faith-based organizers and the Catholic Campaign for Human Development, which is an anti-poverty initiative. John Baumann, SJ, first told me about this gathering when we spoke in late August, and he invited me to participate with the PICO group. I would have welcomed this opportunity if my schedule had allowed. I know this meeting will inspire the creativity of participants, and guide them to respond to the issues of senseless war, violence, hunger, and homelessness, both here in California and around the world.
Tonight I am stunned by the contrast between Obama’s farewell address and Trump’s press conference and confirmation hearings. There was a time in our country when the combined work of faith and justice was viewed as the call for only a small minority. Now, however, this call must be heard by every Christian if faith and justice are to survive. To fulfill this call requires a deep, mature spirituality that refuses to let the gospel be reconciled with the unjust tendencies in the dominant culture. We must heed the voice of Pope Francis, who summons us to a life of faith and justice: “The future of humanity does not lie solely in the hands of great leaders, the great powers and the elites. It is fundamentally in the hands of peoples and their ability to organize. It is in their hands, which can guide with humility and conviction this process of change.”
Imagine a world where,
as Thomas Merton says,
every non-two-legged creature
is a saint.
Imagine a world where,
as Meister Eckhart says,
the soul is not in the body,
but the body is in the soul.
Imagine a world where,
as Teilhard says,
the flesh is made word,
not the word made flesh,
and all matter is soaked in God.
Imagine a world where,
as Thomas Berry says,
the universe is a communion of subjects,
not a collection of objects.
Imagine a world where,
as St. Francis says,
brother sun,
sister moon.
Imagine a world where,
as Pope Francis says,
caring for the Earth and all creatures,
we have only one heart.
Imagine a world where,
as Jesus says,
rejoice and be glad;
blessed be the poor, meek, and merciful,
for theirs is the kingdom of God.
Welcome to a world of wisdom and thanks,
a world where we are all blessed.
Throughout my life, I have been confronted with issues and disappointments that crushed my spirit and dashed my hopes.
As I reflect now on the last year in the life of Thomas Merton, I recall the events that occurred then. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was felled by an assassin’s bullet in April 1968 as he stood on the porch of a Memphis hotel. That evening, Robert Kennedy gave the most moving eulogy I’ve ever heard as he announced to the people the news of Martin’s death.
As Kennedy spoke, an unforeseen tragic irony was about to take place. He himself was killed two months later, in a hotel in Los Angeles, as he campaigned for the nomination of the Democratic Party.
Now we reflect on the challenges of our day, as we move forward from election day November 8, 2016. At this defining moment for the world, we ponder the results of the vote. We watch as the echoes reverberate around the country, and indeed around the world. It seems that the mood of the people has changed—in one way or the other.
As I and many others feel betrayed by the very systems we counted on to protect and uphold our values, I ponder the words of Saul David Alinsky, who stated in his book Rules for Radicals, “Irrationality clings to man like his shadow so that the right things are done for the wrong reasons.” He called on us to “begin to shed fallacy after fallacy” so that we could abandon “the conventional view in which things are seen separate from their inevitable counterparts” and instead see everything “as the indivisible partner of its converse, light and darkness, good and evil, life and death.”
I ponder, too, the words of medieval mystic Meister Eckhart, who proclaims, “If the only prayer you ever say is ‘thank you,’ that will suffice.” And I remember the work of Br. David Steindl-Rast, OSB, whose book is entitled Gratefulness: The Heart of Prayer. Steindl-Rast challenges us to live with a grateful heart, whether we are confronted by good news or the opposite.
Drawing on the wisdom of Eckhart, Steindl-Rast, Merton, Kennedy, Alinsky, and other men, I renew my sense of hope for the days ahead. I believe our future can avoid the kind of disappointment of 1968, which set the tone for a generation at that time. Through gestures of gratitude we can lift ourselves out of the turbulence of this moment and create instead a new, transformational time not yet anticipated or understood.
We pray that our country rise to a better day, infused with the hope and trust of those who join us on the way. Each time a person stands up for an ideal or seeks to improve the lot of others or strikes out against injustice, he or she sends forth a tiny ripple of hope. And that ripple, combined with a myriad others, can sweep down even the mightiest walls of oppression and injustice.
(originally published November 17, 2016)