Climate Strike! Act 5

Act 5
Thrilling Conclusion

One of Mary Oliver’s best known and best loved poems is “The Summer Day.”
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
Well, Mary, one thing I plan to do with my one wild and precious life is oppose the oil companies that want us to keep burning fossil fuels. Here’s what the web site 350.org says:
“Even if we do manage to keep most of fossil fuels in the ground, a world that’s 1.5°C warmer [than preindustrial] is going to be a much different, scarier place. We’re only at +1°C now, and we’re already seeing more storms, flooding, heatwaves, drought, and island nations at risk of going underwater. The basic facts of climate crisis are grim: the vast majority of fossil fuel reserves need to stay in the ground for us to stay below 1.5°C of warming -- and fossil fuel companies aren’t going to do that without a fight. We know exactly what we have to do — keep fossil fuels in the ground and quickly transition to 100% renewable energy. The science says it’s still possible to stay under 1.5˚C – but we’ll need to halve emissions by 2030, and increase the share of solar, wind and hydro energy dramatically in that time. Renewable energy is getting cheaper and more popular every day. As renewables grow and provide more clean, free energy to replace fossil fuels, we’ve seen emissions decrease in many countries. We’re not alone — the worldwide movement to stop the climate crisis and resist the fossil fuel industry is growing stronger every day.”
Maybe there’s a realistic chance of keeping the temperature rise to within 1.5°C warmer than pre-industrial, or maybe there isn’t. I don’t think that matters. I mean, obviously the temperature increase will make a huge difference, but our odds of preventing it don't matter. What matters is that our joy and compassion call to us to put an end to fossil fuel use. What matters is that doing everything we can to put Exxon and Shell out of business is fun – whether in the end we put a dent on those behemoth corporations or not.

And when I say “fun,” I mean it’s joyous and compassionate to facilitate the transition of the beautiful and worthy human beings who work for those companies into vocations that do not stunt their spirits by paying them to harm themselves and others.

The toil of body and soul, we offer up to the universe, and what the universe makes of it is not ours to say.

Yes, strategizing is a part of doing. Goals and outcomes and plans for achieving them are the manifestations of compassion. It’s possible to plan for results, however, without expecting or needing them. Our hearts turn over to grace their labor, their sweat -- all that our hearts are and have. Grace has its own way of shaping what our hearts bequeath it.

So join me as part of the Climate Strike this Friday Sep 20. Three days before the UN Climate Summit in NYC, young people and adults across the globe will strike to demand action be taken to address the climate crisis. CUUC members will meet at Grand Central Station on Friday September 20, under the opal clock at 11:30am, or at the Starbucks by Foley Square before 1:00pm. We will join the march going to the Battery Park rally.

See the Action Network's info on the Climate Strike -- HERE.
See the info sheet for Metro New York area UUs is HERE.
CUUC members and friends, see HERE.

What else you gonna do with your one wild and precious life?

What else that would be as much fun – as joyous and compassionate?

* * *
Climate Strike! Act 1: Fermi's Question
Climate Strike! Acts 2-3: Truths Still Inconvenient. Polls.
Climate Strike! Act 4: Joy, Compassion, and the Big Picture

Climate Strike! Act 4

Act 4.
Joy, Compassion, and the Big Picture

Stop worrying. Seriously, climate anxiety is a real thing and it would be better not to suffer from it. Some people have gotten so stressed about reports of inevitable near-term social collapse due to climate change that they’ve gone into therapy. The American Psychological Association now recognizes “eco-anxiety” as "a chronic fear of environmental doom".

I know that fear can be a powerful motivator in the short term. Most of the politicians in office now got there by playing to fear. Fear works, in the short run, but it makes us miserable and stressed. We end up anxious and depressed. Let us take action to mitigate climate change, but not out of fear. We don’t need your fear, your anxiety, your stress, your worry, or your panic.

I know that Greta Thunberg – the 16-year-old Swedish climate activist – says she wants grown-ups to panic, but I disagree. What we’re after is sustainability, and panic is not sustainable.

And, no, we don’t need hope either – at least not the usual understanding of hope, which is often just fear trying to be optimistic. If you have hope, that’s fine, but it isn’t necessary. If you lose it, you can still happily carry on -- if you're spiritually prepared to. To begin that preparation, reflect on this: in a situation devoid of hope, caring for each other and our home is as worth doing as ever. We do it for its own sake -- not for the sake of a hoped-for outcome.

Maybe it’s the nature of intelligent life to destroy itself and maybe it isn’t, but even if it is, the point isn’t to last forever. Whether as individuals or as a species, the point is to have a good run while we’re here. Enjoy the bliss of existing for the instant we have – and when I say “we,” I mean both "you and me individually", and "humankind."

Our species, homo sapiens, has been around about 200,000 years. Our genus, homo, has been around ten times that long -- so the duration of the genus homo, so far, is 2 million years. Homo sapiens is the sole surviving species of that genus. The others have all come and gone. Some of the more significant or longer-lasting ones:
  • homo habilus (2 mya - 1.5 mya),
  • homo ergaster (1.8 mya - 1.3 mya),
  • homo erectus (1.9 mya - 0.14 mya),
  • homo antecessor (1.2 mya - 0.8 mya),
  • homo heidelbergensis (0.75 mya - 0.2 mya),
  • and most recently, homo neanderthal (0.24 mya - 0.04 mya)
Homo erectus lasted 6-8 times as long as homo sapiens has so far.

Still, we had a good run. If the measure of flourishing is population numbers, we've flourished, particularly in recent centuries. If the measure is the overall well-being of the members of our species, we were doing OK for the first 90% of our 200,000-year run, but took a bit of a hit 12,000 years ago when the agricultural revolution allowed the rise of the centralized state, concentrations of wealth, large standing armies, slavery, oppression, and a considerable boost in the proportion of us in misery. But we've also taken some strides toward equality that suggest that maybe in another century or two -- if we were to last that long -- we might work out the kinks of the agricultural revolution and enjoy its benefits more than we suffer its downsides. Moreover, even amidst our atrocities, we did some amazing stuff: art, literature, music, science, and spiritual practice. If this is the end of the run for the species -- and, indeed, the genus -- to which we belong, let us face that demise with the same equanimity and quiet pride with which we hope to face our individual demise, when that time comes.

The Earth has seen five mass extinctions. The first one was 444 million years ago: the Ordovician extinction. 86% of all species went extinct. Then life bounced back. New and different species emerged and flourished.

Then 69 million years after the first mass extinction – that is, about 35 times as long as the genus homo has existed – another mass extinction hit: the Devonian extinction of 375 million years ago. 75% of all species went extinct. Again life bounced back – new species proliferated.

124 million years went by – that’s 62 homo durations. Then the third mass extinction: the Permian extinction of 251 million years ago. This one was a real doozy: 96% of all species ended. From the 4% that were left, new life forms again sprang forth and filled the earth – this time for 51 million years.

The fourth mass extinction, the Triassic extinction of 200 million years ago, wiped out 80% of the species of the time. This time life bounced back with the age of the dinosaur – about 700 species of which we’ve identified so far, though paleontologists think there were lots more we haven’t discovered yet.

Dinosaurs owned this planet for 134 million years – about 67 homo durations – until they, along with 76% of all species then in existence – were wiped out in the fifth extinction: the Cretaceous extinction 66 million years ago.

Five mass extinctions. The time between them was anywhere from 51 million years to 134 million years -- and the last one was 66 million years ago. So if we’re heading into the sixth great extinction, that would be within the schedule range.

My loyalty and identification is with life itself. My heart’s devotion, inspiration, faith, hope, and love lie with all of life – not the DNA that defines me as an individual, nor the DNA that defines my species, nor that which defines my genus, order, class, phylum -- or even kingdom. Rather, my belonging is to the beauty and the wonder of life, always finding a way. Consider the stand of aspen trees that is actually all one plant, one root system, one organism that can live, possibly, for 100,000 years. Or the slime molds that work in tandem, signaling to each other to join and form a multicellular mass, like a “moving sausage.” Or the vast and bizarre varieties of mushrooms. We – and this time when I say “we,” I mean “we living things” – will find a way. We always bounce back.

Life. Is not that the God that is a mighty God? Is not that the love that will not let us go?

We don’t need fear or hope, but we do need two things: joy and compassion. We need as deep a sense as we can reach of the joy there is in this wonderful mystery of being alive. We may not have tomorrow, so, friends, let us delight in today. And let us reach out in compassion to do everything we can in the time left to us to ease what suffering we can.

Joy and compassion. Those are the qualities that make for a good life in a world that faces no environmental dangers. It turns out they are also the qualities that make for a good life in this world that does face environmental dangers.

* * *
Climate Strike! Act 1: Fermi's Question
Climate Strike! Acts 2-3: Truths Still Inconvenient. Polls.
Climate Strike! Act 5: Thrilling Conclusion


Climate Strike! Acts 2-3

Act 2
Truths Still Inconvenient

It’s been 13 years since the 2006 release of “An Inconvenient Truth” – the slideshow that brought so much attention to climate change that it earned Al Gore an Oscar and a Nobel Peace Prize. The predictions back then are all coming true – in some cases faster than predicted.

Through most of the 200,000 year history of homo sapiens, CO2 levels have been around 280 ppm. 350 ppm appears to be the upper limit of what the planet can handle without becoming a very different sort of planet. Above 350, NASA said, you couldn't have a planet "similar to the one on which civilization developed and to which life on earth is adapted." The journal Nature said that above 350
"we threaten the ecological life-support systems that have developed in the late Quaternary environment, and severely challenge the viability of contemporary human societies." (McKibben, Eaarth 16)
By 1960, we reached 320 ppm.
By 1980: 341 ppm.
We passed the 350 mark in 1987 – 32 years ago.
By 2000, we were at 370 ppm.
By 2010: 392 ppm.
As of 2019 May, we’re at 415 ppm of CO2, still adding another 2 or 3 ppm every year.

The Earth has seen CO2 levels this high before – but not for at least 2.5 million years – in other words, not in Quaternary Period, and not when there were any people or civilizations or mass populations depending on agricultural and finely tuned economic systems. The longer we stay above 350 – and the further above 350 we go – the more and stronger hurricanes, floods, and droughts; more sea level rising; more dying of coral reefs.

Even if rich countries adopt draconian emissions reductions, it is improbable that we will be able to stop short of 650 ppm of CO2. As Bill McKibben notes,
"Even if you erred on the side of insane optimism, the world in 2100 would have about 600 parts per million carbon dioxide. That is, we’d live if not in hell, then in some place with a similar temperature."
Right now, annual global average temperatures are about 1 degree Celsius hotter than pre-industrial temperatures. Because of the climate change that has already occurred, increased frequency and severity of heatwaves and floods have reduced global grain yields by 10%. That’s already happened. Over 1 million people living near coasts have been forced from their homes due to rising seas and stronger storms. That's already happened.

We will probably see the annual global average temperature reach 1.5 degrees Celsius hotter by the year 2030 – and some time around mid-century, we’ll hit 2 degrees C higher than pre-industrial. The difference between 1.5˚C and 2˚C could mean well over 10 million more migrants from sea-level rise.

Act 3

Americans may be warming to the concept that the planet is warming. On Thursday September 12, the Washington Post reported results of a poll conducted by the Washington Post and the Kaiser Family Foundation. (The WaPo article is HERE. A PDF of the full poll report is HERE.)
“The poll finds that a strong majority of Americans — about 8 in 10 — say that human activity is fueling climate change, and roughly half believe action is urgently needed within the next decade if humanity is to avert its worst effects. 38% -- nearly 4 in 10 -- now say climate change is a “crisis,” up from less than a quarter five years ago.”
Another 38% say it’s a major problem but not a crisis. 15% say it’s a minor problem. Only 8% said, “not a problem at all.”

So, what are we willing to do about it? How about increase federal gas tax by 25 cents a gallon? Only 25% supported that.

A 2-dollar tax on monthly residential electricity bills is supported by 47% of us – almost half. A 10-dollar tax on electricity bills, however, garners only 27% support.

On the other hand, 60% of us are in support of “raising taxes on companies that burn fossil fuels even if that may lead to increased electricity and transportation prices.”

The most popular approach: raise taxes on the wealthy households. Over two-thirds of respondants – 68 percent – were in favor of that.

* * *
Climate Strike! Act 1: Fermi's Question
Climate Strike! Act 4: Joy, Compassion, and the Big Picture
Climate Strike! Act 5: Thrilling Conclusion

Climate Strike! Act 1

Act 1.
Fermi's Question

I think often of Enrico Fermi (1901-1954) – the great Italian physicist. He asked an intriguing question. He looked out at the stars and asked: Where is everybody?

Number 1: Our Sun is a young star. It's 4.6 billion years old, while most of the 200 billion stars in our galaxy are about 10 billion years old or older.

Number 2: There is a high probability that some of these stars have Earth-like planets which, if the Earth is typical, may develop intelligent life. Fermi could only make a rough guess about the number of Earth-like planets in the galaxy. Since getting the data from the 2013 Kepler mission, our current best estimate is that there are 40 billion Earth-sized planets in the Milky Way with surface temperatures conducive to life.

Number 3: These older stars with Earth-like planets would be way ahead of us in developing interstellar travel – some of them billions of years ahead of us.

And number 4: Given that one-tenth the speed of light should be achievable, and that a ship going that speed could get from the far edge of the galaxy to the opposite far edge (a journey of 105,700 light years) in just over a million years, the galaxy could be completely colonized in a few tens of millions of years. Given billions of planets that have billions of years of head start on us, a few tens of millions of years is nothing.

So: where is everybody?

Scientists have offered a number of possible answers to Fermi’s question. Maybe the probability of life forming from nonliving matter -- or the chance that life would, within a few billion years, develop to the point of space travel -- is much lower than Fermi imagined. Or maybe extraterrestrials have swung by, but are too clever to have been detected. Maybe.

But the answer that haunts me is this conjecture: It is the nature of intelligent life to destroy itself.

Intelligence emerges in response to competition for scarce resources. If resources are plentiful, or species don’t need to outsmart other species to get them, then all species remain comparative simpletons. So wherever intelligence emerges, it necessarily comes with aggressive, instinctual drives.

When that ancient competitive, aggressive drive to consume resources, extend longevity, and reproduce is suddenly paired with powerful new technology: boom. The species destroys itself through environmental destruction or super-powerful weapons, or at least blows itself back to a pre-technological stage. That's the conjecture: that any species on a trajectory of evolving increasing intelligence will necessarily figure out how to destroy itself before it figures out how not to.

If true, it would explain why no extraterrestrials have colonized the galaxy. Perhaps this self-destruction has already happened on billions of planets. Perhaps it is now happening here.

* * *
Climate Strike! Acts 2-3: Truths Still Inconvenient. Polls.
Climate Strike! Act 4: Joy, Compassion, and the Big Picture
Climate Strike! Act 5: Thrilling Conclusion


A "Faith" for Everyone

Faiths are different. Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Zoroastrianism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Daosim, Confucianism, Sikhism, Jainism, animism and others -- and the variants of these, sometimes numbering into the hundreds -- are all different. This is unavoidable. Religious diversity does raise some problems and challenges for us, but addressing those problems calls for learning how to accept -- and if possible celebrate -- differences rather than suppressing or erasing them.

So when I say, "a 'faith' for everyone," I do not propose to lay out some common core that all, or most, religions have, or should have. Instead, I urge a way of understanding what faith is. This understanding may be shared by everyone, regardless of their faith.

Thus, atheists, too, have (or, as I shall suggest, "do") a faith -- though atheism is not it. Atheism rules out certain faith traditions, but does not itself constitute a faith. In the same way, "non-model-airplane-builder" rules out a hobby but does not itself constitute a hobby. But while a person may not have any hobbies, everyone has/does a faith. The faith of an atheist may not have a name -- but ze does have/do one. Like any faith, it may be weak, middling, strong or any gradation thereof. It may not, however, for a functioning human being, be nonexistent.

Faith is:
  1. Committing to the fullness of our being;
  2. Opening our hearts to the unknown;
  3. A way of interpreting existence.
Before I unpack these, I need to acknowledge a common cultural conception (that is, a conception of what "faith" means that is common in English-speaking culture). According to this conception, faith is a non- (or perhaps ir-) rational conviction of the truth of certain propositions for which the evidence is nonexistent or, at best, weak.

You may want to argue that the meaning of the word is determined by the way that most people use it. So if this conception is indeed common -- if that is the way that almost everyone understands what the word "faith" means -- then that IS what faith means. We can't very well go around employing new and different definitions of words if we expect to be understood when we speak.

In fact, though, people commonly do associate faith with rather more than simply "believing without evidence." Faith is imagined to be personally transformative, to bear some relationship with transcending ego-centric desires, with enabling us to face life's uncertainties and unknowables, and with how we make meaning of our experiences and our lives. These are widely understood functions of faith. Let us understand what faith is by its functions. Whatever, then, serves these functions -- whether it also involves believing without evidence or not -- deserves the name of faith. Let us now take a closer look at each of these functions.

First, as Virginia Knowles writes by way of describing the thought of Unitarian theologian Henry Nelson Wieman:
“Religious faith is the act by which we commit ourselves with the fullness of our being, insofar as we are able, to whatever can transform and save us from the evil of devoting ourselves to the transient goods of social success, financial opulence, or even scholarship or beauty or social concern.”
This fits the traditional understanding that the outcome of faith is personal transformation and transcendence of ego-centric desires. This important function may be served without any non- or ir-rational conviction that flies in the face of evidence. Faith is a name for whatever it may be that commits us to the fullness of our being rather than the limited and narrow parts of our being concerned with what Knowles and Wieman call "transient goods."

Second, American Buddhist writer Sharon Salzberg describes faith as "the act of opening our hearts to the unknown." This fits the common understanding of distinguishing faith from reason and evidence. While reason and evidence tell us about what we can know, faith is an approach -- specifically, an open-hearted approach -- to the unknown. Rather than merely believing without evidence, however, faith is a willingness to go forward to take in new evidence and new experience, ever-willing to be transformed. This throwing ourselves into the unknown can feel like leaping -- hence, "leap of faith."

"Faith" names the antidote to ego preoccupations with achievement and with knowing. Faith is the courage to offer up all that we are to the world around us, not knowing what the world will ask or what we will find in ourselves to offer. Faith's opposite is not doubt, but despairing withdrawal.

Third, from theology professor James Fowler: faith is “a way of knowing, construing, and interpreting existence.” This preserves our very common sense that Islam, Christianity, Judaism, Hinduism, etc. are faiths. They each know, construe, and interpret existence in a particular way.

The common conception of faith as a set of unshakable convictions impervious to evidence does convey, for all its misdirection, one implication that is true: evidence alone is not enough. Evidence is not the same thing as meaning and does not suffice for meaning. Mere phenomena present us with “a blooming, buzzing confusion” (William James) until interpreted, contextualized, made sense of. Animals -- most notably humans -- must make meaning from the raw phenomenal evidence. There are many various ways to put the same evidence together into a structure of value and meaning, and each way is a faith.

Faith is best understood not so much as something we have or lack, but as something we do and sometimes fail to do. We "do faith" when we commit to the fullness of our being, with hearts open to the unknown and minds engaged in meaning-making.


We Need a Tribe

Things get difficult sometimes. We need the tribal connections that modern life precludes. Thus we are left often alone, “like a motherless child.” And what we do encounter of other people may be negative: there is a fear of difference in the land that is further tearing us apart. We are in a difficult time – have been, really, for about 12,000 years.

Here’s the thing: we need a tribe. We crave the face-to-face community – groups of up to 150 where everyone knows everyone else, everyone is accountable to everyone else, every one is known, and everyone belongs. We keep each other in line, which meets our need for connection and interaction, which gives our lives meaning. Here’s part of how it works:
“When a person does something for another person – a prosocial act, as it’s called – they are rewarded not only by group approval but also by an increase of dopamine and other pleasurable hormones in their blood.” (Sebastian Junger, Tribe)
Some of us can get that rush from abstract charity, but most of us need that face-to-face contact with those with whom we are devoting cooperative labor.
“Group cooperation triggers higher levels of oxytocin, for example, which promotes everything from breast-feeding in women to higher levels of trust and group bonding in men. Both reactions impart a powerful sensation of well-being. Oxytocin creates a feedback loop of good-feeling and group loyalty that ultimately leads members to ‘self-sacrifice to promote group welfare,’ in the words of one study. Hominids that cooperated with one another – and punished those who didn’t – must have outfought, outhunted, and outbred everyone else. These are the hominids that modern humans are descended from” (Junger 27).
Yet modern society isn’t tribal. It’s vast, it’s anonymous, it’s full of strangers. We ourselves are cogs in an incomprehensibly large economic system in which disposable producers make disposable products for disposable consumers. This is not the world evolution made us for.

Millions of years of evolution selected us to be social, caring for and protecting the tribe. As Sebastian Junger notes:
“Humans don’t mind hardship, in fact they thrive on it. What they mind is not feeling necessary. Modern society has perfected the art of making people not feel necessary.”
In the 1700s, the European colonists and Native Americans were never far from each other. The colonists, we know, were commercial and industrious. The indigenous peoples were communal and tribal. Colonial society was wealthier, more advanced. The Europeans had more stuff, more powerful tools, could do more things, and they were always working on getting still more.
They were making "progress" happen. Yet something weird was happening. From time to time a European would “go native” – defect from white society and go live with a native tribe. This never happened the other way around. Not that our European ancestors were terribly welcoming overall, but there were some attempts, say, to welcome Indian children into colonist towns and homes. They never wanted to stay. In 1753, Benjamin Franklin wrote:
“When an Indian child has been brought up among us, taught our language and habituated to our customs, yet if he goes to see his relations and make one Indian ramble with them, there is no persuading him ever to return.”
In 1782, six years after the colonists had declared their independence from Britain, Hector de Crèvecoeur wrote,
“Thousands of Europeans are Indians, and we have no examples of even one of those aborigines having from choice become European.”
Tribal life was 95 percent of human history, and it meets the needs we evolved to have.

Our hunter-gatherer ancestors
“would have practiced extremely close and involved child care. And they would have done almost everything in the company of others. They would have almost never been alone.”
Almost never alone. We traded that for more individual autonomy and choice and privacy, for being left alone – being left . . . alone.

Was it a good trade? We gained wealth. We lost our strong tribal connectedness. We pay the price in that loss and in higher rates of depression. The World Health Organization reports that people in wealthy countries suffer depression at up to eight times the rate of people in poor countries.

Consider fraud as an indicator of our modern disconnection from one another. Defrauding these government programs such as unemployment assistance, welfare, Medicare, and Medicaid costs us over $100 billion a year. Insurance fraud takes $300 billion a year. The rich do more fraud than the poor, measured in dollars. Fraud by American defense contractors is estimated at around $100 billion. Securities and commodities fraud – insider trading, kickbacks and bribes, false accounting – and illegal banking practices triggered the recession of 2008, total costs of which have been estimated at $14 trillion.

Hunter-gatherers had the same impulses to seek material gain at the expense of the group, and, indeed, ultimately at the expense of their own well-being – but they lived in small groups where almost everything was open to scrutiny, and tribes devoted considerable energy to monitoring one another to ensure equity. The group’s survival depended on equal resource distribution to keep everyone alive – which was crucial because, unlike in modern society, everyone was needed. It was a lot harder to get away with cheating.

Junger writes that in these communities,
“authority is almost impossible to impose on the unwilling. Males who try to take control of the group – or of the food supply – are often countered by coalitions of other males. This is clearly an ancient and adaptive behavior that tends to keep groups together and equitably cared for.”
Transgressors against the tribe’s norms were punished by public ridicule, shunning, and ultimately assassination of the culprit by the entire group. Infractions commonly punished included freeloading on the work of others, bullying, and failure to share.

People everywhere in all times have faced temptations to dishonesty – but long ago we had social structures that were more deeply connecting and that made cheating more difficult. Modern society is based on hierarchy. Our hunter-gatherer forebears had leaders, but those leaders had to be in a caring and accountable relationship with those they led. Then, about 12,000 years ago, that changed.

The rise of agriculture was a package deal that included domestication of such animals as the cow and the pig and some others, along with the cultivation of crops, most importantly grains: wheat, barley, rice, and maize. Only with the rise of agriculture did the centralized state become possible. Only grain crops have a set annual harvest time and are
“visible, divisible, assessable, storable, transportable, and ‘rationable’.” (James C. Scott, qtd in John Lanchester, "How Civilization Started," New Yorker, 2017 Sep 18)
Thus reliance on grains made a workable taxation system possible.
“The taxman can come, assess the fields, set a level of tax, then come back and make sure he’s got his share of the harvest.”
That’s what led to the birth of the state:
“complex societies with hierarchies, division of labor, specialist jobs (soldier, priest, servant, administrator), and an √©lite presiding over them.” (Scott, New Yorker)
This system required huge amounts of manual labor, which was often forced. With agriculture came the first slavery. Agriculture allowed support of large standing armies, transforming war from feuds between clans into mass slaughter. No wonder Jared Diamond called the Neolithic Revolution “the worst mistake in human history.”


How Can There Be Such Wrong?

Renewal Happens, part 2 of 2

Opportunities for renewal, for starting over, are ever-present. But there's a price for renewal. New beginnings come with loss.

All the things that religion is – the ethics and values we live by, the community bonds and the rituals, the experiences of transcendent wonder – all of that: it’s nothing if it doesn’t make us more alive, if it doesn’t open us to the fullness of everything, if it doesn’t prepare us to say YES to all of life, even the hard parts, even the loss. And renewal does include loss of what was before – just as loss of what was opens the space for renewal.

We have to say good-bye in order to say hello -- that's the cost of renewal. Novelist Daniel Abraham points out:
“The flower that wilted last year is gone. Petals once fallen are fallen forever. Flowers do not return in the spring, rather they are replaced. It is in this difference between returned and replaced that the price of renewal is paid. And as it is for spring flowers, so it is for us.”
Even as our hearts are lifted by new births and babies among us, we carry, too, the grief of absent loved-ones. Edna St. Vincent Millay captures this poignant ambivalence in her poem, “Spring”:
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
“It’s not enough,” says Millay. The bloodroot blossoms now sprinkled across our congregation’s property are so lovely – and far too delicate to bear the weight of the world’s grief.

Sara Teasdale feels the overwhelming inadequacy of spring as she writes in 1917, in the midst of the carnage of World War I. Her poem is called “Spring in War Time.”
I feel the spring far off, far off,
     The faint, far scent of bud and leaf—
Oh, how can spring take heart to come
     To a world in grief,
     Deep grief?

The sun turns north, the days grow long,
     Later the evening star grows bright—
How can the daylight linger on
     For men to fight,
     Still fight?

The grass is waking in the ground,
     Soon it will rise and blow in waves—
How can it have the heart to sway
     Over the graves,
     New graves?

Under the boughs where lovers walked
     The apple-blooms will shed their breath—
But what of all the lovers now
     Parted by Death,
     Grey Death?
In war time – and it is always war time somewhere on this weary world, and tragic loss is never very far away – it can seem a wonder that the grass would have the heart to sway over graves. How can the daffodil and bloodroot blossoms around us dare to shine forth? Do they not know my mother is no more? Have I not told them of my father’s death? Did they not hear of the Parkland shooting? Do the names Michael Brown and Eric Garner mean nothing to them? Have they no inkling of the refugee crisis, or what is happening at our country’s southern border, or in Yemen? Do they not read the paper? How dare the flowers stand there in small and silent beauty?

And yet, they do. There they are – matched in their shameless impudence by the boughs above them budding with fresh leaves, and, above them, the sun that has the effrontery to shine so brightly.

Do none of them know that animals, including human animals, died and are dying – horribly, tragically, and much too soon? Do they not know how much we loved those taken from us?

No. They don’t know. Life, heedless of calamity, refuses to be stopped, though its continuation only means more death.

In the book of Job, Job cries out “Why do I suffer?” After his friends Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar have offered their trite moral simplifications, Job is still left crying, "Why do I suffer?"

Finally, God Godself appears in a whirlwind to answer the charge that Job’s suffering is unfair and without basis. It’s not clear, however, that what God proceeds to say can be accurately called an “answer.” God unleashes four chapters of rhetorical questions that invoke the wonders and grandeur of creation. Here’s a sampling from chapters 38 and 39.
“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth?...
Or who shut in the sea,... made the clouds its garment...
Have you commanded the morning since your days began, and caused the dawn to know its place...
Have you comprehended the expanse of the earth?...
Has the rain a father, or who has begotten the drops of dew?...
Can you bind the chains of the Pleiades or loose the cords of Orion?...
Do you know when the mountain goats give birth?...
Do you give the horse its might?...
Is it by your wisdom that the hawk soars, and spreads its wings toward the south?
Is it at your command that the eagle mounts up and makes its nest on high?”
Does this answer Job’s question? Does this explain why Job suffers? No. It does not. It is, as Millay said, “not enough.” Yet, confronted with the marvel of creation in this way, Job’s complaint is stilled. Job says, "I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.” Humbled and speechless, Job abandons his plea.

But the plea returns. It returns recurrently in our lives as it returned to Sara Teasdale in 1917: how can there be such wrong?

If the wonders of creation seemed to Job to dwarf his own suffering, there are also times when the immensity of the world’s pain dwarfs the green grass of spring, the new leaves, the little flowers. And so it is, and so it is, and so it shall be.

Ours is to be open and present to both sides when they come – the death and the renewal alike -- for, in truth, both sides are always come.

So, yes, stop and smell the flowers, now that it is spring. Work hard and take breaks. Strive to get that hit -- and don’t forget to touch every base.

* * *
See also Part 1: Start Over 'Cause It's Never Over