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Yes, darkness surrounds al-Qaeda and Saddam Hussein.Yet what
about the darkness above our White House, our Congress? What about
the terror and devastation that our leaders might unleash? We
control, after all, the largest stockpile of nuclear, biological,
and chemical weapons in the world.
Indeed, God so loved the world; God called it good, all of it
good, in Genesis.
Jesus’ light came into the world, but men—and here
I prefer the traditional version because it betrays the people
who bring us to the edge of cosmic destruction—men preferred
darkness. They preferred the darkness of war and hostility; they
embraced the dark deceptions of distraction and silence; they
fell in love with the demons of mammon and economic expansion.
Still, light is come into the world, a world that God so loved.
Reading the New York Times recently, I was overcome with
disgust. A number provoked it. 45 million. 48 million. I don’t
remember the precise amount. It was the dollar amount which our
vice-president earned through some efforts at Halliburton. (You
know this oil company, yes?) I simply do not know what one person
could do or need with such a gross sum of money.
Rowan Williams observes that the “spiral of wealth is also
a spiral of threat.” His book is Writing in the Dust:
After September 11. He writes:
The horror of being vulnerable to terrorist violence might
open our eyes to the vulnerability which in fact underlies the
whole globalisation process. It is hard to believe that our
world is one in which the increase of wealth for a minority
can be indefinitely projected without cost. Already the existence
of wealthy residential developments surrounded by all the technological
refinements of security in many of our cities tells us that
the spiral of wealth is also a spiral of threat. Those economists
who seem content (for example) to ‘write off’ the
whole of the African continent for the foreseeable future will
have to find something to say about the massive instability
this will generate—for everyone.
This double spiral depends on a vibrant consumer economy, I connect,
and our vibrant consumer economy—newscasters assure us—is
warding off a double-dip recession.
In his book The Nature of Design: Ecology, Culture and Human
Intention David Orr writes:
I must begin by noting that “consume” as defined
by the New Shorter Oxford English Dictionary means “destroy
by or like fire or (formerly) disease.” A “consumer,”
then, is “a person who squanders, destroys, or uses up.”
In this older and clearer view, consumption implied disorder,
disease, and death. In our time, however, we proudly define
ourselves not so much as citizens, or producers, or even as
persons, but as consumers. We militantly defend our rights as
consumers while letting our rights as citizens wither. Consumption
is built into virtually everything we do. We have erected an
economy, a society, and soon an entire planet around what was
once recognized as a form of mental derangement. How could this
have happened?”
Consumption overtakes us. Double spirals deepen. And I am left
with the words of Luke Cartwright, a protagonist in Willie Morris’
novel Taps: “You got to think,” Luke says, “America
is a sad country. You got to think and remember.”
Remembering my mission service in Congo/Zaire, I come full circle
to the words of Maria Misra, an Oxford University lecturer. She
is quoted in a Times’ article titled “Belgium
Confronts Its Heart of Darkness.” Ms. Misra says, “even
the best-run empires are cruel and violent, not just the Belgian
Congo. Overwhelming power, combined with boundless superiority,
will produce atrocities—even among the well-intentioned.”
Perhaps this explains the bad feeling in my soul? What atrocities
await?
Still, I believe God so loved the world.
Let us all confess, and believe.
In Christ, I am faithfully yours,
Peter
PS: This is my last mission newsletter. My service with WMD ends
as I head to seminary next fall. Please keep in touch.
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