1. Katrina and Anna
Let me respectfully remind you:
Life and Death are of supreme importance.
Time swiftly passes by and opportunity is lost.
Each of us should strive to awaken,
Awaken,
Awaken.
Take heed.
Do not squander your life.
--Evening Gatha (Buddhist)
Although the thoughts in this volume are the fruit of many years of experience, study, and reflection, my passion for gathering them into this book can be dated to a week toward the end of September, 2005. In my role as chaplain to the spouses of the bishops of the Episcopal Church, I had traveled to San Juan, Puerto Rico, to attend the bishops' autumn meeting. We all still were reeling from the images of the devastation and suffering in Louisiana and Mississippi due to Hurricane Katrina. First on the agenda were reports from the Gulf coast about the disaster and the subsequent relief efforts, bringing us face to face with images of death and loss. I had once learned that hurricanes serve the beneficial function of moving hot tropical air to the north and thus moderating the earth's climate. This provided little comfort, but Katrina did serve another ultimately very useful function. She forced the world to look at the reality of poverty and racism in the richest country in the world. Her fury brought to our consciousness fearful questions about the safety of human meddling with the ecosystem, a theme that was reiterated later in the day when the Bishop of Bangladesh came to the podium. Knowing that global warming contributed to rising sea levels as well as to Katrina's fury, he pleaded with the gathering, "Please use your power to convince those in high places to take action; otherwise my country could disappear in less than two decades."
I had decided to visit our son and his family in New Jersey on the way home to Ohio, because a second grandchild was expected at any moment-and, indeed, Anna entered the world just as I was landing at Newark Airport. I was not prepared for the emotional impact of a moment several days later. I was in grandparental bliss, rocking Anna, the first girl baby to arrive in our immediate family since my own birth. But in my head, instead of a lullaby, I heard the voice of the Bishop of Bangladesh.
And then I heard my own questions. What will the world be like when Anna and her big brother Gabriel grow up? Will they know the joy of swimming in clear water? Will they be able to hike in healthy forests, breathing fresh pine-scented air? Will the world be free from wars over the resources of oil and water? Will the world have moved closer to the ideal of justice and well-being for every member of the human race?
Or will the waters of the world be toxic, the forests depleted, the air unbreathable? Will our grandchildren's lives be made fearful by wars waged for the sake of diminishing supplies of oil or for the even more necessary resource of clean water? Will economic and social injustice cause ever more instability in the world? Will arrogance and fanaticism continue to breed terrorism? Will these grandchildren of ours be able to remain healthy, despite the toxins that they probably have already absorbed?
How best could I begin to contribute in at least a small way to a future world in which all human beings, from infants to the aged, might flourish? And where was God in this endeavor? I knew the answer, and have known it, in fact, for a long time, because I have been thinking about these issues for many years. I laid the groundwork in my volume
Organic Prayer and in a few articles in religious journals. The gestation period for this book was long and full, and included sitting as an adult student in two environmental studies courses at Oberlin College. But it is the grandchildren who have provided me with the passion and the energy to fit the writing of
Grounded in Love into my busy life.
As I held Anna or sat on the floor playing with Gabriel during the week after Anna's birth, I recognized that both my love for them and the foreboding I felt for their future were catalysts for action. That blend of love and concern contains the seeds of hope. They beckon us to choose between life and death-for ourselves, and for the children we love and their children and their children's children and all their descendants, as well.
In whatever way it happens to us, the journey towards hope begins with this strange mix of love and concern. We may take the very first step while holding a newborn soon after a devastating hurricane. We may take it when a friend is diagnosed with an environmentally-caused cancer. Or when a beloved landscape is forever changed because of melting glaciers or felled trees.
These experiences of love and concern remind us not to squander life-either our own or the lives of those who will come after us. God calls us to "Awaken, awaken, awaken!" acknowledging the truths that are so much a part of human existence at this time will be the catalyst for a journey of prayer and transformation, both for ourselves as individuals, and for our communities. This journey will take us into new territory, in which we learn to live more responsibly. In so doing, we will become more fully the images of God we were created to be, rejoicing in the abundance and beauty of creation, and devoting ourselves, with all our heart, our mind, and our strength to the vitality of life on earth.
Ponder and Pray
Take a few moments to relax and notice your breathing. Then visualize one or more of the young people you love. Picture them at the present time, full of life and promise. "Watch" them at play, and as they sleep.
Now see them in your mind's eye as they grow into adulthood. What kind of a world do you hope for them? Take some time to picture that world. "Choose life."
What kind of a world might they live in if the planet becomes less habitable? "Entertain the possibility of death." How does this possibility make you feel?
Now picture yourself converting the resulting discomfort into action, fueled by your desire to contribute to the future well-being of these children you love. Hold these children before God, as you inhale and exhale. As you inhale, welcome God's gift of life. As you exhale, picture yourself breathing forth God's healing upon the world these children will inherit from you.
