28 March 2024

Death triumphs, or so it seems (mostly a repost)

When I wrote the meditation below back in 2018, we were reeling from the Parkland shooting and the terrible disaster at the Winter Cherry Shopping Center in Kemerovo, Russia.

The spring of 2018 was our first in the USA since leaving Russia. In November 2017 we had sold our furniture to our wonderful landlords, said goodbye to our beloved kitties, and ended our ten-year residency in Elektrostal, Russia.

But for many mixed reasons, Russia is still often on my mind. The war in Ukraine, the life and death of Aleksei Navalny, and now the searing tragedy of Crocus City Hall...these are parts of the Calvary Road on the way to Easter 2024 for me.

Many of us are also paying close attention to the agonies suffered by ordinary innocent people in the Holy Land. Last Sunday I spoke to Friends at Spokane Friends Meeting, confessing that I had originally planned to give a sermon on hope, but found that I was not in a condition to do so. Instead I promised that next time I visit them, I'll try again. For last Sunday I chose the theme of trust. Regardless of whether our hopes come true, as Peter says in his first epistle, chapter 2 (quoting Isaiah), "the one who trusts in [Christ] will never be put to shame."

Here is my meditation from 2018, based on Emmanuel Charles McCarthy's Stations of the Cross of Nonviolent Love:

Source (pdf).  
If you've been with me for a while, you'll recognize the graphic above as a page from Charles McCarthy's Stations of the Cross of Nonviolent Love, which I read every year during Lent.

A shroud from Assumption Monastery, Sviyazhsk.
(More information, in Russian, here.) Photo: V. Strelov.
In earlier years, when I mentioned McCarthy's stations in my blog, I usually provide a station a little before this one, number 13, which is (along with 14, "Jesus is laid in the sepulchre") the bleakest of all. But I'm still in a state of shock over two mass tragedies and the perverse backlashes that have followed those tragedies. I am not in a mood to avert my eyes from the evidences of bondage to violence and inhumanity represented by these incidents.

The first event was the shootings at Parkland, Florida, and the efficient killing made possible by an AR-15. The backlash: smear campaigns against the students speaking in favor of gun control.

My mini-shrine. A flower for Kemerovo's kids.
Screenshot from TV Rain's coverage of Moscow meetings.
The second incident happened since I last wrote here. Last Sunday, 64 people, at least, died in the Winter Cherry Shopping Center in Kemerovo, Russia, including 41 children. In some cases, parents were electronic witnesses to their children's last moments, thanks to mobile phones and social networks. The backlash: highly placed politicians charging those parents and other angry survivors with taking advantage of this tragedy for political gain.

(If for some reason you have a desire to throw up, just read senator Elena Mizulina's comments in this summary of Russian media coverage of the Kemerovo aftermath.)

[Comment from 2024: Some things don't change; witness the political exploitation of the Crocus City Hall tragedy.]

In the hours and days after the Winter Cherry fire, I watched as much coverage as I could, including the huge meeting outside the city administration building, and then Tuesday's memorial meetings in Moscow. A reporter asked one of the participants in Moscow for his feelings about the fire, and he said something that I've come to expect to hear every time something like this happens in Russia: "Whatever 'they' do, we live in the kind of country where these things will keep happening." It was this hopelessness that reminded me of Station 13: "Death and the dark side of reality are always the final victors."

Which is it? Violence, racism, elitism, cynicism, and death are the victors? We know too much about what that looks like ... what that continues to look like two millennia after Jesus.

OR ...

Will we realize something completely different on Easter Sunday? How will the world know that things are different?



Last year's [2017] station from McCarthy's booklet. And 2016's station (scroll down).


(Back to 2024...)

A group of performers honor Aleksei Navalny with a video in the style of his favorite TV show, Rick and Morty.

Putin's paranoia: Timothy Snyder on terrorism, delusion, and self-destruction.

Right Sharing of World Resource (where I once served as the one full-time staffer!) is now seeking a new general secretary.

The USA spends close to a trillion dollars on its military despite its string of failures in traditional war-fighting terms. But (says Tom Engelhardt) maybe the real World War III is best understood not in traditional war-fighting terms at all, but as a slow motion war on the earth—that is, on the physical planet that we live on.

"No more international travel"—Seasoned travelers Hal Thomas's and Nancy Thomas's "fairly firm" decision, until ....


Finishing up with some blues energy: Rick Holmstrom and Nathan James.

21 March 2024

Palm Sunday (USA, 2024)

Entry of Jesus Christ into Jerusalem (1320) by Pietro Lorenzetti; source.

The arrival of Jesus in Jerusalem, just days before his arrest and execution, is sometimes called the "Triumphal Entry." It wasn't triumphal to everyone, of course; there was already plenty of controversy about Jesus and his activities. Still,  his own disciples celebrated enthusiastically: (from Mark 11, verses 9 and 10, New International Version)

Those who went ahead and those who followed shouted,

     “Hosanna!”
     “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
     “Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David!”
     “Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

I love the matter-of-fact next verse in Mark: "Jesus entered Jerusalem and went into the temple courts. He looked around at everything, but since it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the Twelve." Nevertheless, the shouts of those who greeted Jesus as he entered indicated high expectations of his arrival in this politically sensitive place. He might be the one to restore David's throne!

It soon became apparent that Jesus was completely redefining what his "kingdom" was all about, and throwing its gates open to everyone who was ready to receive him, including all who might have been left out of earlier invitations, right up to you and me today.

Those original celebrants, yearning for a political triumph, may have misunderstood what was about to happen, but it's hard to blame them. Today, we see a similar confusion: many of those we would expect to help Jesus keep those gates wide open to all who would receive him, are having a hard time. Many of them seem determined to repel anyone who is not planning to vote for their hero in November.

Just to set the record straight: Jesus, who was executed for redefining his kingdom and its radical invitation, is very much alive. Come and see for yourself.


Last week I had barely enough active neurons to write a few sentences on my blog. It turns out that I needed abdominal surgery, which happened yesterday, with good results. By next week I hope to be back to my full blog format. For today, I'll close with a slightly different form of blues dessert, from the film Horowitz in Moscow.

14 March 2024

"... Nature cannot be fooled," part two.


 Selfie on the train from Birmingham to London, last autumn.

Tomorrow I'll be on the train again, going to Klamath Falls, Oregon. This evening I have a pounding headache, so I'm taking the day off and not posting on this blog. As I said last week, "nature cannot be fooled."

I'm scheduled to give a message at Spokane Friends Meeting on March 24, and I am feeling a strong leading to speak on the theme of hope. It must be a leading; I don't actually want to address this theme. Feel free to pray and advise!


07 March 2024

"...Nature cannot be fooled"

North Sea sunset.

Source.  
The dream is almost always the same. I'm out in the open country. There's a roar overhead, and I see a missile crossing the sky, and I instantly know it's carrying a nuclear warhead. It's on its way to a target somewhere behind me. I take off and run. There's a blinding flash and the dream ends.

Well, occasionally I manage to dive into a depression, feel the heat and shock pass by, shake off the dust, and realize that I've apparently survived. Then the dream ends.

I've continued to have these dreams since childhood. They're stored in my brain alongside memories of the Cuban missile crisis, air raid shelter signs, the air raid siren tests every Tuesday at 10:30 a.m., and classroom instructions on what to do during a nuclear attack. 

On March 26, 1970, our high school classes were canceled owing to a snowstorm, but I was already at school. One class had scheduled a viewing of the British pseudo-documentary The War Game, portraying a fictional nuclear attack on the UK. The teacher decided to offer a viewing to anyone interested. Not really wanting to trudge two and a half miles back home in the snow, I joined the audience, and got many more searing images for my apocalyptic dreams.


We are not yet really free from the threat of nuclear warfare, but the shadow of another threat has become at least equally prominent in our times: global ecological catastrophe. The first threat may seem more vivid and immediate; some would argue that the second may be more inevitable in the long run. Has this second threat—climate change's worst scenarios—become our younger generations' version of nuclear dread?

Although both threats originate in a sort of shortsighted human arrogance, there are important differences between them. The decision to use nuclear weapons is in the hands of specific human beings who are, or should be, perfectly capable of choosing not to use them. (Of course I'm glossing over the possibilities of miscalculations, insanity, and equipment failures.) Nuclear war is not inevitable, whereas ecological degradation is already well underway. Human interventions to avoid catastrophe are possible at several points on the chart above ("Global warming and climate change"), and many scientists and activists have specified what those interventions should look like, but the track record of our species in acting at the required scale is not promising.

Sometimes I'm tempted to succumb to a doom mentality. For all we know, extinction might be inevitable no matter what we do. Countries and empires have come and gone, civilizations have perished, species have vanished. The planet itself will survive our misdeeds—as Richard Feynman reminded us in his famous appendix to the Rogers Commission investigation into the Challenger explosion, "... nature cannot be fooled." However, at some point even planets will vanish into their dying suns. Our loving Creator will archive us one way or another (I vote for "heaven"!) but, short of that, nothing about our long-term future is guaranteed.

Before I reject doom entirely (you knew I would, right?), I found this article in Scientific American intriguing: Beyond the Doom and Gloom, Here's How to Stimulate Climate Action, by Madalina Vlasceanu and Jay J. Van Bavel.

Not everyone is a fan of the doom and gloom messaging. Climate scientists like Michael Mann have warned against climate “doomerism,” messaging that can depress and demoralize the public, assuming that helplessness will simply lead to further climate inaction. And the title of a new book by Hannah Ritchie states clearly that it’s Not the End of the World: How We Can Be the First Generation to Build a Sustainable Planet.

There is, however, some evidence that doom and gloom messaging can spur climate action, as long as it falls on the right ears at the right time. For example, research has found that climate distress, climate anger and climate anxiety are all associated with increased climate action under some circumstances.

[Links in original]


paper edition; digital edition
I'd like to recommend a better way. Cherice Bock, an environmental scientist and theologian, and Quaker minister, has an alternative vision—one that has two major advantages over the doom mentality. She describes this vision in her short, carefully organized and well-written book, A Quaker Ecology: Meditations on the Future of Friends

The advantages of her approach: 

First, her vision of an Eco-Reformation has great persuasive power. She anchors her vision in powerful biblical insights and the raw honesty of acknowledging the toxic effects of individualism, racism, and colonialism, even in our own Quaker histories. She writes beautifully about the healing effect of repentance and of reweaving ourselves into the ecology around us and within us through what she intriguingly calls "watershed discipleship." If a new, wider Reformation among people of faith adds to our united ability to reach the scales needed for crucial interventions, Cherice has made a valuable contribution toward that end.

Second, no matter how far we succeed in sharing this vision, no matter what the eventual outcome of our efforts to mitigate climate change might be, this is how we should live along the way. Cherice is blunt when she needs to be, but she personally models the power of honesty and a non-shaming repentance in describing, for example, the history of her own family on lands once inhabited by Indigenous nations. And her watershed awareness carries with it a sense of joy and embodiment.

Cherice subtitled her book, Meditations on the Future of Friends. Although I'm convinced that her theological and ecological insights have wide application beyond Quakers, the history and current state of Friends in the USA give an important context to her book—and give me a sense of positive urgency. As she says, "I was inspired by earlier generations of Friends; I want to be part of my own generation's faithfulness."


Nancy Thomas looks at the patriarchs, the Psalms, Ecclesiastes ... and old age. "The tree or the insect."

This link is hard to post. Ashley Wilcox tells us that ALS is likely to keep her from reaching old age.

More ripples, via Meduza, from the death and burial of Aleksei Navalny. Shura Burtin cautions us against unrealistic faith in the "beautiful Russia of the future." On the other hand, here is a Russian university instructor who is tired of being afraid.

The documentary film Butterfly in the Sky celebrates the legacy of the long-running television show Reading Rainbow, which I remember watching with our kids. Here's the trailer and context. (Thanks to Lithub.com for the link.)


Michelle Birkballe (Denmark) covers Solomon Burke's classic "Cry to Me." (Link to Burke's original.)

29 February 2024

Saying goodbye to Aleksei Navalny

Yulia and Aleksei Navalny (2015). Photo: Sefa Karacan, Anadolu Agency via Novaya Gazeta Europe.

Surveillance cameras, street patrols, and scaring students.

Security beefed up at Moscow cemetery where Navalny to be buried.

Rights group offers tips on avoiding police at funeral.

"They don't care about the optics."

Video stream of funeral, scheduled to start tomorrow (Friday) at 4 a.m. US EST.


By offering those links above, I intended to provide access to news coverage and commentary about the memorial events for Aleksei Navalny. I can't, and don't need to, compete with these sources.

Instead, I'd like to turn to one specific aspect of these events: their Christian context.

When I wrote about Al Sharpton, I framed my comments in our common identity as Christian ministers, which allowed me, as a commentator, to dare to cross lines and rush in where angels might sensibly fear to tread. My goodbye to Navalny is in a similar context. With all the differences in our social locations, political circumstances, and all that, we are brothers in Christ.

Maggie Phillips urged us, in her article in America, not to ignore Navalny's Christian faith, as the news media usually do. (Thanks to Faith on View for the link.) A fascinating sample of that faith came in the form of a statement by Navalny in a court hearing on February 20, 2021. Inga Leonova, in Public Orthodoxy, provides the full text of that statement. You can hear the original recording here, and read Leonova's article in Russian here.

These words leaped out at me:

This teaching—“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be satisfied”—appears somehow esoteric and odd, but in fact it is the central political doctrine in modern Russia. Your Honor, what is it, this phrase or slogan, the most important political slogan in Russia? Where does power lie? Power lies in truth.

The more that the principalities and powers try to distract us with lies and confusion and doubt and cynicism, the more persistent we need to be in our hunger and thirst for righteousness; the more determined we need to be to seek out truth; the more ready we need to be to admit (without wasting time shaming ourselves and each other!) when we fall short, and continue the pursuit.

This "central political doctrine" applies in this very moment in Russia, and in the USA, too. Where does it not apply?

If we Christians apply this doctrine consistently in our political involvement, we will bless our neighbors far and wide. But, for some of us at least, our first challenge may be to continue confronting the scandalous stink that too often surrounds the word "Christian" in the public arena. Where did that stink come from? Evidence suggests that some of us hunger and thirst for something else—dominance, privilege, the approval of the alpha figures of the moment. Maybe it takes the words of a contemporary martyr to recalibrate our values.

Thank you, Aleksei. Eternal memory!


Related: 

"The mere sound of his name will signal hope."

Is Christianity under attack?


Minute on the Ongoing Devastation in Palestine, adopted last Saturday by the winter gathering of Sierra-Cascades Yearly Meeting of Friends.

Rebecca Solnit on the perennial divisions of the American Left.

Rondall Reynoso (Faith on View) on being an evangelical Democrat.

Micah Bales at Berkeley Friends Church: The only way to life is through death.

The late Mariellen Gilpin's tribute to a meeting well-stocked with Quaker elders.

An interview with Gregory D. Smithers, author of Reclaiming Two-Spirits: Sexuality, Spiritual Renewal, and Sovereignty in Native America.


In memory of Aleksei, my favorite blues from J.S. Bach and Mstislav Rostropovich:

22 February 2024

Aleksei Navalny 1976 - 2024

This issue of Sobesednik, the only national newspaper in Russia that covered Navalny's death, was seized by authorities when it hit the streets. Cover photo caption: "Aleksei Navalny before his death: 'BUT THERE'S HOPE.'" Tagline at bottom of page: "When others keep silent, we speak!" Coverage of Navalny's death was also removed (or blocked) from the paper's Web site. Source.

Last Friday morning began with a terrible shock, a message on my Whatsapp account from a friend in Elektrostal:

Navalny has been killed in the prison today... 😔😔😔

Since that moment I've been spending far too much time in the Russian Internet, trying to understand the meaning of his death for Russia, and why I feel so much personal grief. A relatively small percentage of Russians actively supported him, but those who did were willing to take enormous risks to do so. The hope he gave them (and the feeling of hopelessness that many testified to in the first shocked hours after Navalny's death) reminded me instantly of nine years ago, the killing of Boris Nemtsov.

I can't deny my own fascination: I mentioned Aleksei Navalny 39 times on my blog over the years, not counting reposts and annual digests. The first mention was January 12, 2012.

It wasn't that Navalny was perfect. (Jeremy Morris reliably delivers his trademark mixed evaluation, which to my mind isn't entirely fair, but at least you know I've read it!) But, among other things, I loved the enthusiasm with which he did his political work, the care he put into being accessible, both on a personal level and in his unparalleled digital presence, his unquenchable humor, even in prison—and that energy and enthusiasm was clearly infectious. The Russian power vertical decreed his movement's total removal from the public arena, but those thousands of alumni/ae no doubt cannot forget how they felt serving the cause of "the beautiful Russia of the future," and what they learned, in the Navalny laboratory of hope.

Listen to their voices now, as they react to the news of his death: (source)

Ksenia: When he returned to Russia after being poisoned, I understood his decision: because being a brave person and a true patriot of our country, he couldn’t be torn away from it. But I felt very sorry for him and his loved ones: it was clear that years of tribulations lay ahead, with no apparent way out, and possibly with a tragic ending. He’d still have chosen this path. There are people who let themselves burn up, giving light and warmth to others. He was — and remains — such a person in my heart.

Now, I’m grieving. And I feel love for my country. If the best among us are ready to die for it, then it’s worth the price.

Anastasia: I’ve been having these horrible thoughts that there’s no point in a beautiful Russian future anymore because Alexey won’t see it. He deserved it more than anyone, and without him, it won’t be the same. It also seems like Russia was beautiful when he was free, could travel around the country and speak to us from the screen, and we didn’t appreciate it enough. I know he’d scold me for these thoughts, but I have them. I see no point in anything. I just have this pain that he’s no longer here.

Yulia, Dasha, Zakhar [his wife and children], I think of you every minute. There’s still the chance that he’ll see our country free through your eyes. And that keeps me going.

I could go on to describe some of the gratuitous cruelty with which Russia's propaganda machine has treated Navalny's widow Yulia (as if memos must have gone out to all those media outlets with the same trashy messages, so that a simple and heartfelt "we're sorry for your terrible loss" seemed beyond the realm of official possibility). I won't go into detail about the unseemly ways that the authorities have been playing hide-and-seek with Navalny's body and its proper Orthodox burial. I won't list all the ways his years in prison were made as vexatious as possible, including poor medical attention, and over 300 days in solitary. You can find all that in other places. I'll just end with one more tribute, a screenshot from Dozhd TV ("the optimistic channel")... with a supporter holding up a sign that used a common nickname for Aleksei: "Forgive us, Lyosha...."


A brief political biography of Aleksei Navalny from the USA's National Public Radio. 

"I will continue Aleksei Navalny's work."

Navalny's channel on YouTube. Many of his greatest hits have decent English subtitles. In this video, Yulia Navalnaya commits herself to continuing their work.

Russian authorities declare Radio Free Europe / Radio Liberty an undesirable organization. (Story in Russian.)

The Carlson/Putin interview is apparently going to be an educational resource in Russia.

Martin Indyk on the "strange resurrection of the two-state solution" for Israel and Palestine.

Heather Cox Richardson warns that theocracy and authoritarianism go hand in hand. (Russia-related update: open letter from the Orthodox Christian Study Center and a growing list of cosigners, with a plea to the ecumenical world to hold the Russian Orthodox Church accountable.)

Micah Bales on a Transfiguration observation: reality can be hard to take.


"5-O Blues", Corey Harris. Not sure why, but this seemed appropriate.