"Chaos is Come Again"
Othello
With the burning of Fort McMurray in the tar sands territory of northern Alberta, we are left with two questions. First, have we reached the tipping point, the point of no return, for our swiftly warming planet? If so, then the challenge now facing all of humanity is this: how are we to deal the coming catastrophe?
The first question no doubt demands a scientific answer, but this can only tell us at what precise point the tipping will come, if we have not already tipped (the image this conjures up for me is of a sailboat capsizing in a dark and stormy night, which I once did on a Laurentian lake in cold October with my Jesuit friend, David Eley). There is already mounting evidence that we are trapped in what can only be called a vicious circle of climate change. This is producing conditions of drought in many parts of the world, turning brush and forest into tinder, thus rendering wild fires more and more common, which in turn produce more and more C02, leading to more global warming and more conflagrations.
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire.
from “Fire and Ice,” Robert Frost
To hold with those who favour fire may seem more and more obvious, but it is the second question that exercises me and demands imagination and preparedness.
Much as I admire Naomi Klein, I feel her hope that the next crisis “must be the catalyst to actually build the world that will keep us all safe” (This Changes Everything, 466) is less than realistic. In a world in which events continue to overtake us with new disasters, no one can be safe for very long. And so, how are we to deal with the coming world catastrophe? What is the vision that will sustain us, if not keep us safe?
The idea of an ark preserving a remnant of human beings and animals is a beautiful one because it holds out hope that no disaster is final: God desires to save creation, not destroy it. The biblical flood symbolizes, not God’s wrath, but the violence that humans have unleashed on the world (Genesis 6:11). The growing climate crisis is simply the cumulative result of all the violence done to the Earth and its inhabitants by humankind over the last few centuries.
The Noah’s ark is symbolic of salvation, but it is a symbol that translates all too easily into science fiction of escape to another planet (as in the novel, A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter Miller) or into satire (as in the recent Bizarro cartoon in which Noah, having plucked a bottle from the sea, tells his wife, “Just got a note from a pair of something called ‘llamas,’ from somewhere called ‘South America,’ wanting to know if we could swing by and pick them up.”)
At the end of the Bible, in the Book of Revelation, are other powerful images suggesting that the world will conclude not with a funeral but with the wedding of the Lamb and his Bride (19:7), after which will be revealed a new heaven and a new earth (21:1). But in the apocalyptic now or in the immediate future, what can we do to help those caught in disasters like the one in Fort McMurray? The response across the country has been heartfelt and generous, but what will be our response if such disasters multiply?
Whenever chaos comes, the cry is usually for a leader who can restore order, which in the recent past has often meant martial law or the imposition of a dictatorship. As Noam Chomsky shows in the recent documentary film, Requiem for The American Dream, the rich and powerful will do all they can to preserve their position at the top (was it Pericles of Athens who said, “The strong do what they will, and the weak suffer what they must”?), but those at the bottom, who constitute at least 90% of the population of the world, and more likely 99%, also have power. What we must do is exercise our power in ways that are non-violent and that do not create more chaos or provoke repression.
Rather than cry, “Sauve qui peut—everyone for himself!”, we must do all we can to protect those that are most vulnerable. This includes not only humans but also animals and even plants and seeds, so that we can prepare now for a future that is threatened with extinction: every species is now endangered! Now that our fellow Canadians have tasted what it is like to become refugees in our own country, it may seem wise to close the gates of our nation to refugees from abroad, but a newfound compassion should lead us to open our doors even wider.
What we need most in the midst of chaos is hope, and a vision that goes beyond our desire that all will be well. Such a vision is what Paul offers us in his letter to the Ephesians:
With all wisdom and insight he has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth (1:9-10).
What is obvious is that we cannot save ourselves: that kind of practical wisdom resides only in God. God in Christ is at work to save us, to turn disaster into blessing, but first we may have to endure the crucifixion of the world as we know it, trusting that, out of the ashes there will come a phoenix-like resurrection bringing forth a new heaven and a new Earth. Such a hope can only be sustained by a faith founded in Love.