Playing with fire

Keynote address delivered by David Radcliff
Director, New Community Project

November 7, 2003
Global Warming Conference: Too Hot to Handle
Albuquerque, New Mexico

We’re playing with fire.

I used to think we could fell the forests
And foul the streams
And even over-fish the oceans
But at least we couldn’t mess with the weather
I used to think...

We used to think
Glacier National Park would always have glaciers
Silly us
We used to think the snows of Kilamanjaro were here to stay
And that the polar ice caps wold forever be capped with...well...ice

We used to think of natural disasters as “natural,”
Occurring at nature’s whim
At graciously-spaced intervals
Not anymore—150 more tornadoes in the US this past May than ever before
“Storms of the Century” rolling in every decade or so these days
Heat waves killing thousands in “Old Europe” soon to be “cold Europe”
if melting Arctic ice stalls the Gulf Stream dead in its tracks

And this September up in Arctic Village, Alaska
Hearing my Gwich’in friend Charlie Swaney lament
That it hardly got down to 60 below anymore
(only a 120 degree swing from New Mexico in January)

We’d think a warming trend might be good news up there
—but it sends a chill up their spines
They see the permafrost melting, undergrowth increasing, and then lake levels dropping.
They see migratory patterns of caribou and waterfowl beginning to shift ominously

Around the world, coral reefs, weather patterns, animal movements, even blooming flowers—
All things we used to think were as regular as the sunrise
All things we have come to see as integral to the fabric of life—
Changing before our eyes
Or
Going, going, gone—the heat is on

Birds and butterflies are getting the message—they’re moving their nesting grounds toward their respective poles at the rate of a half-mile per year, seeking cooler climes

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, it’s business as usual among our kind
Driving bigger cars more miles creating more pollution than ever before
Building bigger homes for smaller families
So much stuff that we don’t know what to do with it
If we’d all invested in self-storage units 10 years ago we could have retired and gone to—
Where do you retire to if you already live in New Mexico? Pennsylvania?
In any event, we’re asleep at the wheel—
Many of us just oblivious, carried along by the inertia of what we’re used to
And in constant background noise of a society bent on wanting and buying, building and driving

Summer before last I was on my bike coming home from work up in Elgin—and about ¾ of the way through the five-mile trip I came to a four-way stop
—what’s that about? Just give somebody the right-of-way!
Anyway, on this particular afternoon, I had my mind on other things—
A speech I had coming up; my son on a traveling peace delegation—it was a slight downhill grade,
I wasn’t going fast
And I just drifted through

I never drift through a stop sign—I always at least click the brakes, stop pedaling, look both ways, and at least pretend to stop
You try not to really stop on a bike because of Newton’s First Law—
stationary things tend to remain stationary—
and on a bike you can’t just put the pedal to the metal—
you actually have to turn the pedals
So, I click, look and go

Not today. And I realized it right away. “I drifted right through,” I thought to myself. I don’t usually do that.

Well, I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

I hadn't gone 50 yards when I could feel a car pull up beside me—
a long, brown car—with a woman in the driver's seat
Matching my speed to hers, she powered down the passenger's side window,
Looked over at me and said,
"You didn’t stop at that stop sign."

What was I supposed to say? She had me. I knew I was wrong.

And before I could get my wits about me, she powered up the window and pulled away.

As I regained my composure, I began to think of what I should have said to her.
(it's actually a good thing that you don’t think of these things right away when you're on a bike-as you're at something of a strategic disadvantage with a car...)

What I could have said was,
"You’re right, ma'am. I didn't stop. I usually do. And I know I should have.
But don't you think you should stop—stop driving that car on these short trips around town?
Every mile you drive puts a pound of CO2 into the atmosphere;
Keeps you from burning off a couple of hundred calories;
Helps send our nation to war—who knows where next;
And takes the life on average of .0001 squirrels and other small fury creatures per mile driven.

And did I mention the 10,000 year old culture of the Gwich'in
that hangs in the balance as we ponder drilling in the Arctic?
They live off the caribou, but they won't go over to the coastal plain during the birthing time
Even if they're starving—they call it 'the place where life began'—
We'd go there for a couple of months of oil."

So, we don't like to think about our role in global warming—that's one response.
—or we think about is and actively oppose it—that's another response

The distinguished gentleman from Oklahoma saying in the U.S. Senate last week that claims of Global Warming are based on faulty science
Let him tell it to the polar bears who are gonna be none-too-pleased when their ice pack disappears beneath their paws—there's a science project for the Senator—polar bear attitudes toward melting ice pack, based on personal interviews...

Thank goodness for your Senator Bingaman and for your neighbor, Senator McCain.

So we have the oblivious. We have the obstreperous. And we have the acquiescent.
That would be most of us.
Those who know better, who believe the science,
But lack the will or the courage or the tools to do the right thing.

None of these is excusable—not according to the traditions—human or religious—we represent here today.

In all of our teachings, we are called to responsibility for other
and for the earth from which we sprung and to which we will return—
even those of us who don't feel we're directly responsible for the events unfolding around us

There's a wonderful story in the gospel of Luke we call the Rich man and Lazarus—
Wonderful because it is terrifying—terrifyingly incisive and seemingly written for societies like ours

In this parable of Jesus, a rich man goes about his business from day to day—
Dressing well
Eating fabulously
Enjoying all the bounty at his disposal

Even as just outside his door lay Lazarus—
A poor man beset by hunger,
Covered by sores that were in turn licked by the dogs

No connection is made between these two men—other than their proximity—they are neighbors

In due time, both met their end, as must we all—
The one to Heaven and Abraham's bosom
The other to Hades and less appealing company

The blessed one is Lazarus,
Granted this choice spot because of his miserable earthly lot

The cursed one is the rich man—we know not his name—
His crime?
Ignorance?
Obstreperousness?
Acquiescence?

It matters not—for he acted not as his neighbor lie suffering.

His last wish to Father Abraham is for someone to return to earth
to sound the alarm to his loved ones of how they must start living

Abraham shakes his head, "They have plenty of warning already—what good would another voice make?"

Our house is on fire. So far, we are escaping more or less unscathed—so far—
But our neighbors are being singed—or worse

The World Health Organization reported last week that 160,000 people around the world
Will die this year from causes related to Global Warming
-can you feel the heat?

Low-lying islands and the teeming masses of the world's great coastal cities
have a sense of impending calamity as storms escalate in severity and frequency,
and as sea levels rise—
I read yesterday that if all the world's glaciers were to melt,
It would raise sea levels by 260 feet
-can you feel the heat?

The Gwich'in, who might have thought they were out of reach—
They were for 10,000 years—
Now find their delicately balanced subsistence culture
threatened by changes taking place in the past 10's of years
-can you feel the heat?

Our neighbors in hurricane alley in Central America and the Caribbean
lie directly in harm's way as the atmosphere heats and becomes more volatile

We heard the stories of people along the southern coast of Honduras as our 1999 delegation
Helped rebuild after 1998's Hurricane Mitch

Rosa Maria Martinez Lindo of the village of El Estribo
told of three, then four, then five days
Of torrential downpour—
Then on night six
The waters of the river about to overtake their small village
They fled—
She carried her three small children three miles in the dark of night through the driving rain
To higher ground

"We thought God was ending the world," they said.

I didn't have the heart to tell them that they hadn't seen the last of storms like this,
And that they really shouldn't blame God—
It's you and me, brother
It's you and me, sister
Standing in the need of prayer
Or in need of something—a wake-up call—someone yelling "Fire!"
As if there really is one

And if it's not enough that it's already enveloping our present-day neighbors,
Then because of the charred-remains-of-a-planet we will be bequeathing
To our grandchildren—
What have they—like the people of El Estribo—done to deserve it?

So, for ecological integrity,
For the well-being of our neighbors,
For the sake of generational justice
We must do what we must

And I don't know who's going to do it if not for you—
and me—and souls of like mind here and around the world

We cannot leave it solely to the economists—
They seem not to see beyond the 4 p.m. stock market close

Nor solely to the politicians—
They've got an election to win
And have we ever seen a campaign run on any other platform
Than more and bigger and faster and stronger

It is left to people of principle and conscience
Whose vested interest goes beyond today's profit or tomorrow's election
Who care about more than their own immediate comfort
And who can even contemplate sacrifice for the higher good
Of the wellness of the creation and the security of people at the margins of global society

But we wonder with the rich man of our New Testament lesson
as he found himself experiencing a little "global warming"
what can be done to sound the alarm?

Certainly we must first be the change we hope to see,
As Gandhi said.
Our call to others rings hollow and lacks integrity
If we are not showing the way by our own choices

A friend of mine from Pennsylvania has long been concerned
about the effects of our car use on the ecosystem
and then last spring he got suspicious that our invasion of Iraq might just have something to do with oil
So he decided to walk to worship one Sunday—
Had to get up at 3 a.m.—it was 16 miles

But he made the evening news!

They love it when strange people do strange things for interesting reasons!

I say "strange"—stepping back from car use in a car culture
Will appear strange;
As will insisting on pollution controls
That may have near-term costs;
Or demanding that we not drill on the coastal plain when everybody knows
"there's oil in that there Refuge"

And it is strange to take these steps or positions others are not taking

But in the larger scheme of things, we are not the strange ones—or the ones somehow "off-center"

We are the normal ones—the reasonable ones—the on-center ones
Because the things we're calling for really make sense over the long haul and are what all of our traditions call for

Look around this room—these are the normal ones (now there's a thought)

So the question becomes "do we have the courage to be normal"
To live the way life/God/tradition intends
By living this way we gain integrity and may even get a little press

Then, are we able to creatively address the crisis that confronts us?
Can we conceive of the future in a different way?
As the Israelites stood at the boundary to the Promised Land,
The Lord reminded them—as did Led Zeppelin several millennia later
in their classic Stairway to Heaven--
That there are two paths you can go by,
but in the long run
there's still time to change the road you're on…

For us and for them it was a choice between two futures
One—a future based on past models—
Doing things like we've always done them—
Based on centralizing, militarizing, politicizing
with predictable and painful results—sooner or later

The other—another way of living
based on community, creativity, and humility toward life and toward others

How can we help our society have this latter perspective—
Seeing things in a whole new way with a new set of possibilities?

I recently saw the movie "Dead Poets' Society" for the first time—I'm a little behind the curve—
You may remember the scene early on when English teacher Robin Williams
invites his prep school students to one-by-one come to the front of the class
and climb up on his desk in order to see the classroom from a new and different perspective

Wednesday night my 9-month old granddaughter was over for supper—with her mom-
and she's just beginning to pull herself up to a standing position—
when she does, you can see it in her eyes—
the excitement of that whole new world of possibilities that present themselves
from this new perspective

For her, nothing will be the same
For us, nothing will be safe

But let it be that way—let us be so daringly creative
In offering fresh perspectives
That none of the old thinking is safe anymore

The proposal put forward by the conference planners
Is one such creative and courageous fresh approach
"It's time" they've titled it—and it is time for a rapid yet orderly retreat
from fossil fuel use

Who would dare propose such a thing?

How can we not think such things at a moment like this with so much in the balance?

It likely won't happen right away—
So, in the near term what are the middle principles,
The creative approaches in the interim
That begin to show the way?
Efforts that are both exemplary and participatory—
That inspire others even as they model the new reality

I think of a Quaker friend of mine in Indiana
Who along with some homeless folks in his community
Has started a recycling program using bicycles pulling wagons
Rather than massive garbage trucks to pick up recyclables
(sounds like "Tikkum Olam" to me…working with God to repair the earth)

I think of my friends in the Washington Offices of our denominations and institutions

Working without the leverage big money provides
but who are nonetheless well-connected to things that matter

Like John Johnson of the Episcopal Church
who just took a delegation
of legislators to the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge
for an up-close and personal look at what's at stake

And I think of students who seem to see more clearly that the rest of us sometimes
The linkage between U.S. foreign policy and military policy and environmental
And human interests in a place like Columbia
Where along with the drug trade,
Petroleum flows like another narcotic
And may have something to do with our interest in that poor South American country

I'm just realizing what I have been writing…
That we are being shown the way toward this new day
Buy among others a motley coterie of
the homeless
inside-the-beltway rabble rousers
and kids on the front lines of the global war
—and it too is a kind of global war on terror--our efforts to stave off climate change—
if we define terror as attacks against innocents with the result of creating havoc and instability

-that was a terrifying night in El Estribo

-there must be a quiet terror under the skin
of the myriad of sea creatures who call coral home
as they see it turn white—and dead—beneath their fins

-there is a glint of terror in the eyes of Gwich'in
who see their world poised to end

But it is to the likes of the Gwich'in
That we may turn to help us find our way through the impending fire
Their way of life and their principles for living
Give us hope that there is yet hope

Two months ago this weekend our delegation was in Arctic Village, Alaska—
A Gwich'in community of 150 souls who live in the most remote community in the Western Hemisphere

We had come to learn about Gwich'in life
Including their dependence on the caribou for food and much more
And their deep concerns about drilling on the coastal plain of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge,
Birthing ground for the 150,000-strong Porcupine Herd

On Sunday morning, we were even more remote than the village—
Having set up camp several miles away on a mountainside
Our "activity" that day was to be a hike of 3-4 miles to a vantagepoint
Overlooking Old John Lake
A prime fishing spot for the community

Our guide was 24 year-old Danny. Danny had evidently left the village as a youngster
to experience the outside world—in his case, Fairbanks—but had soon had his fill
returning to the Arctic Village to settle down, raise a family and learn traditional ways

It was a bit of an arduous hike over an expanse of tundra,
But we finally made it to the small peak overlooking the lake
We pulled out our lunches and our cameras for group photos

We weren't far from turning around to go back to the campsite
When someone said, "I think I see a grizz"
He pointed to the opposite side of the valley
We got out the binoculars and it turned out to be a caribou—even better

At this point, Danny put on his game face—
And here I would mention the name of an Arizona Diamondback in the on-deck circle if I could name one

He un-shouldered his rifle—they don't go anywhere without on--
In case of a grizzly—or caribou—
And told us to stay put and stay still as he went after it

As he stalked the animal, which was about a half-mile away,
We watched the whole thing play out in front of us

Finally he raised his rifle, we heard the shot, the animal fell
At that point, we rushed down to join him
Even though some of us didn't eat meat,
Much less on-the-hoof,
We were elated at his good fortune

He then set to work skinning and cleaning it—
It took about an hour
He just about finished when someone else whispered,
"There are four more"
And there they were in the small valley below us

Again we froze—Danny crept forward a ways—
And then in what was an amazing display of skill
Hit the lead animal as it was on the move some 400 yards away
Soon he had gotten the other three

Someone had asked Danny on the hike up that morning
How many caribou he, Marjorie and their two children needed for the winter
He had said "five," and he hadn't gotten any this year
Now here they were lying before us

News of his success reached the village before we did the next day
As for us, we were coming to be seen as some kind of good luck charm—
Having first brought a spate of sunny weather after a cold and rainy August
—and now this
They're paying us to come back next year

Some of our group went to help cut up the meat that afternoon—
And they reported a strange thing
People from the village began to show up—
And whoever came by left with a generous cut of meat
Until the five caribou had soon found their way into nearly every smokehouse in town

You see, Danny never saw his good fortune as a blessing for him and his family alone—
But for the whole family
Not for his own enrichment, but for the enrichment of all

These values—
seeking the good of all
putting aside self-interest
willingness to sacrifice for the common good
In the short-term, they may seem shortsighted,
But in the long-term, they are long-sighted,
And exactly what we need
If our goal is to live sustainably and with a sense of shared security

Friends, we have received this earth—Like the caribou came our way that day—
As a gracious gift—
Be it from God or from countless generations or myriad genetic adaptations that have gone before us—
We have nonetheless received it through no merit of our own

As with every such gift—as with the caribou—we have choices as to what we do with it
Yes, as always, there are two paths we can go by—

Us and now, or all of us and always
Oblivious, obstreperous and acquiescent
Or committed, creative, and courageous

And thankfully, there just may still be time to change the road we're on

And as we wind no down the road
If we act with integrity, with creativity, and with an eye toward the well being of the whole
The whole village of earth and its people

We may yet beat the heat
And find the stairway to the heavens we all seek—
A blessed future on this beautiful planet we call home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Conference Summary

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Playing with Fire
By David Radcliff
Director, New Community Project
718 Wilder Street
Elgin, IL 60123

DRadcliff@NewCommunityProject.org

(toll-free) 888-800-2985.