Hurricane Irma
A satellite photo of Hurricane Irma as of Sept. 6.
Getting together a recent day’s updates for United Methodist Insight, I remarked to my associate editor-spouse: “I’m sure glad I’m not doing disaster stories anymore.” Moments later, I had to clarify that I was glad I wasn’t physically chasing after on-the-ground disaster coverage, as I did for some 10 years in a previous position.
Yes, I’ve had more than enough of standing in the ashes of someone’s home, or photographing the rubble of an earthquake-struck church, or trying to avoid wading through knee-deep floodwater, or worst of all, interviewing survivors. Trouble is, there’s no way to avoid writing disaster stories, because these days disasters are all around us.
Although we like to think our times are the worst, the human condition has been one of constant crisis since the dawn of time. My theory is that it seems so much worse today is because a) we can’t avoid the instant communication of disaster news 24/7/365; b) we have neglected to learn the eternal truths of our faith; and c) we fail to take the time to apply those eternal truths to what’s behind all these catastrophes.
The word “apocalypse” has been used rather loosely in the latest disaster reports, but sadly, the word has been corrupted and co-opted. In the Bible, “apocalyptic” literature appears whenever a group of people suffers oppression at the hands of a mighty power. Such literature uses necessarily fanciful symbolism to describe a longed-for righting of wrongs. Those who have misinterpreted these works as harbingers of impending doom have completely missed the point.
For starters, the word “apocalypse” correctly means “to pull back the veil.” In other words, an apocalypse uncovers that which has been hidden from common view. How people respond to that unveiling, particularly those in power, gives rise to the idea that an apocalypse means the end of the world. More aptly, an apocalypse means that unjust times and situations will be made right by God’s justice – which could very well mean the end of a world for those wielding power unjustly. The same ending could mean the beginning of a new world of freedom and equality for those oppressed.
The best example of this idea I’ve seen lately comes from Zach Hoag, author of "The Light Is Winning: Why Religion Just Might Bring Us Back to Life," when he was interviewed recently by Jonathan Merritt for Religion News Service.
Hoag said: "These are apocalyptic times for American Christianity, in the literal sense that they are revealing times. The decline of Christian faith in the U.S. is, I believe in part, a result of this revelation. There is a deep compromise with the wealth, power and violence of the empire at work in the church in our time. In another sense, though, I remain hopeful and resolute. Despite the percentage of evangelicals who voted for and support Trump, I believe we are witnessing the last angry gasps of a perspective that is coming to a necessary end as a dominant force in American society."
That approach may do for social or political conflicts, such as the violence that occurred in Charlottesville, Va., but what about all these natural disasters? In the past month, two major hurricanes struck the U.S. mainland, one after devastating several Caribbean islands and Cuba; flooding from monsoon rains has killed more than 1,000 people in southern Asia; a massive mudslide buried hundreds in Sierra Leone; its largest earthquake this century struck near Chiapas, Mexico. Surely these occurrences are Signs of Doom to Come.
Not so, says Ahmed Ragab, a professor of science and religion at Harvard, quoted in an article in the New York Times, “Apocalyptic Thoughts Amid Nature’s Chaos? You Could Be Forgiven” by Henry Fountain.
Fountain quotes Ragab: “Natural disasters do not happen in a vacuum. The reason we are hearing about them is they are affecting humans, and the structures that we are actually building.” By that, Fountain explains, Ragab means “not just aging infrastructure that cannot survive a strong hurricane, or log homes that burn in a fire, but economic structures that leave some people too poor to flee when disaster threatens.”
Ah, now the shoe really pinches, doesn’t it? Because while floods and fires, quakes, mudslides, droughts and more occur in the natural cycles of the Earth, the impact of those events can be aggravated or mitigated by what we humans do. For example, as I told some rather irate Facebook commenters last week, climate change doesn’t cause hurricanes. Nonetheless, climate change directly affects the intensity of hurricanes, because overheated oceans evaporate more water, which increases the amount of rainfall. Higher temperatures melting polar ice caps causes sea levels to rise. This means that shorelines experience already higher levels when storm surge –walls of seawater pushed by hurricane-force winds – rampages over seawalls into the downtowns of coastal cities.
Our latest crises reaffirm one of Scripture’s eternal truths: we are both perpetrators and victims of our disasters. (Read any of the Hebrew prophets if you don’t believe me). Our hatred of one another’s unique reflections of God’s image fuels fear and bloodshed. Our lifestyles damage fragile ecosystems whose natural attempts at correction harm us in turn. Our social, political and economic systems amplify these behaviors – dare we call them sins? – to the point that it does indeed seem like the end of the world as we know it.
So, yes, we are living in apocalyptic times, as human actions and nature’s reactions reveal to us the errors of our ways. At the same time, we’re also seeing new behaviors of caring and connection arising in response to the crises we face. How well we can sustain and build on these behaviors will determine whether this round of apocalypse really does result in the end of the world or in a new beginning.
Cynthia B. Astle serves as Editor of United Methodist Insight, which she founded in 2011.