CrossCurrents A Catholic Reflects on Faith in Our Times
Bernard
F. Swain, Ph.D. www.CrossCurrents.us
The
Message of the Mountains
When New England got a surprise October
snowstorm last week, followed the
very next day by genuine ÒIndian SummerÓ weather in the 70s, I was already
thinking how volatile our natural environment has been over the last year.
Then a tornado whipped without warning through AmericaÕs
Midwest, leaving a wake of death and destruction that only adds to the tally
weÕve witnessed from hurricanes, earthquakes, and tsunamis.
Like so many others, I asked myself, ÒWhatÕs
going on here?Ó What are we to think, I wondered, when natural phenomena seem
unnaturally threatening?—and then I remembered John Paul II hiking in the
Dolomite mountains.
Bear with me a moment, and ride my train
of thought linking a mountain-climbing Pope to our recent wave of natural
disasters.
WeÕve had a tough year from Mother Nature.
The tsunami hit just after Christmas 2004, but that was just the beginning of
drastic weather. Vietnam and India both experienced severe flooding. The
northwest U.S. shifted suddenly from the record drought of winter 2005 to one
of the wettest springs in history. California suffered flooding and landslides
as record rainfall dumped 36 inches of water. At summerÕs end, southern France
experienced torrential rains and hail that destroyed acres of the 2005 grape
(thus wine) harvest. Then came hurricane season: Katrina hit New Orleans and
the Gulf coast, Rita ripped Houston, Stan hit Guatemala, Wilma hit Mexico and
Miami. Meanwhile, Pakistan shook from a major earthquake. And now the tornado.
The reports are full of talk of El Nino
and global warming and our failure as stewards of the environment. But perhaps
there is an even more fundamental lesson to be learned about our relationship
to the natural world. And thatÕs where John-Paul II comes in.
During his papacy, John Paul vacationed
six times in the Dolomites mountains, where he was famous for hiking and skiing
(click: http://www.journalstar.com/pope/slides/VATICAN%20POPE%20HEALTH.html). He was known to be Òparticularly fondÓ of these
mountains. Last May 25 (the date of his 85th birthday), to honor his
mountain hiking, one mountain in the Abruzzo region was renamed Cima
Giovanni Paolo II: ÒJohn Paul II Peak.Ó It also happens that John Paul I was born in these
mountains, as was the mother of Benedict XVI; as he said last October, ÒThe Dolomites?
They are mountains I love very much. It is on peaks such as yours that the best
holidays are spent.Ó
The Dolomites (which I had never even
heard of) are part of the Italian Alps, but they are unique, unlike anything
else youÕll see in the Alps. I recently spent a day high in the Dolomites in
Cortina, site of the 1956 winter Olympics. Here I got a close-up view of what
makes these mountains so different.
I saw, not the regular snowcapped cones
typical of the Alps, the Pyrenees, or the Himalayas, but jagged, toothy,
sharp-edged peaks raking the horizon in all directions (see for yourself at http://www.dolomiti.org/dengl/photo/sett05_04.html). Moreover,
these mountains do not emerge gradually from a terrain that rises from gentle
inclines, then to foothills, then to steeper slopes. No, the dolomites shoot up
like sheer rock walls from flat plains that run south and east across the
Veneto to Venice and the Adriatic sea.
And when you get close to these walls, you
can see just how bizarre they really are. For the rock they are made of is not
volcanic stone: no great boulders or chunks of massive molten flow that later cooled
solid. Instead, you see an endless series of parallel lines cutting sharp
angles across the slopes, showing where layer upon layer of sediment piled up one
atop another until sheer tonnage compressed the layers into rock.
The obvious question is, what are layers
of sediment doing on mountaintops? Where would such sediment come from? Did it settle from the sky?
The answer came from plate tectonics, the
revolutionary understanding of the earthÕs history and dynamics that completely
transformed geology in the 1960s. We now understand that the earthÕs crust
consists, not of a single piece, but of plates fitted edge-to-edge like the
joints of a cabinet or the bones of a human skull. As these plates move, the
edges separate, or scrape together, or buckle. If that buckling is extreme
enough and lasts long enough, it can thrust masses of the earthÕs crust sharply
toward the sky.
And when geologists took samples from the Dolomites,
they found the remains of the creatures who had lived there before the sediment
was pressed into stone: starfish and snails and sea horses. It seems these
12,000 ft. mountaintops began their history as the deep-buried underwater floor
of an ancient sea! The sediment came from plants and animals and soil settling
to the bottom of that sea, and the parallel lines count the eons such settling
continued before the moving plates thrust the seabed two miles up above the
plains of northern Italy.
When I saw these jagged layered peaks up
close, I felt an awesome humility. I found myself wondering if John Paul II
kept returning to this place to recapture that same humility, and since that
day I have reflected on what it teaches me about the world around us. This unique natural phenomenon offers
several lessons that Catholics might want to absorb as part of their own
spiritual growth. At least for me, the message of these mountains has several
parts:
1. Power. We can barely imagine, let alone measure, natureÕs
power. We speak of ÒpowerfulÓ leaders or Òmilitary powerÓ or even of Òpowerful
stormsÓ – but the power to make mountains out of sea-beds towers above
them all. The humility I felt was all about sensing how small any human ÒpowerÓ
is when facing the natural forces flowing from GodÕs creating will.
2. Our Precarious State. Our helplessness before natureÕs true power makes our
place on earth exceedingly precarious, since natureÕs power is capable of
producing not only great beauty (Grand Canyons and Dolomites and great tidal
oceans) but also, as weÕve seen, great destruction. We can never escape our
dependence on nature – but neither can we depend on nature to be a
friend. Before its enormous power we are left helplessly hoping.
3. Respect. We cannot afford not to respect such ambivalent, sometimes threatening
power. The industrial age sometimes tempts humans to believe that technology
has overcome nature: we light the night and heat the winter, cool the summer,
and even defy gravity by flying off the earth. But we put ourselves in peril by
pretending to be above nature – as anyone who ignores warnings of impending
natural disaster learns only too well.
4. Responsibility. There is a moral message here, but it is often
misunderstood. Our obligation is not to Òsave the earthÓ; the planet will not either
endure or disappear because of our
efforts. But life on our plan is
another matter. If we are stewards of GodÕs creation here, that does not mean
playing God by pretending nature itself will bend to our will. Instead it means
playing human – recognizing
we are small and weak but blessed with an intelligence other life species lack.
We cannot control nature, but we can understand it – and that
understanding can lead to prudent, even wise actions that exploit all of
natureÕs life-enhancing powers while minimizing its destructive effects.
Whether that means rethinking how weÕve mistreated
the protective capacity of LouisianaÕs Mississippi delta, or reducing carbon
emissions, or building warning systems to escape storms, earthquakes, and tsunamis,
or reversing deforestation – all of these things reflect our humble admission
that we are not masters of our fate, but stewards of GodÕs own program for us
and our world.
© Bernard F. Swain PhD 2005
Send Your Comments and Questions to bfswain@juno.com
Dr. SwainÕs
opinions do not represent the views of this parish or any other official body.
Bernie Swain has
devoted more than 30 years to adult spiritual formation in dioceses in the US,
Canada, and France. Since 1991 he has maintained a private practice as trainer,
teacher, and consultant to leaders in parishes and other religious
organizations. He holds degrees in theology and political science from Holy
Cross, Harvard, The University of Paris, and The University of Chicago.
His writings include Liberating
Leadership (Harper & Row,
1986) and more than 200 articles in periodicals such as The National
Catholic Reporter, Commonweal, The Miami Herald, The Catholic Free Press, The
Pilot, Harvard Theological Review,
and Liturgy.
A lifelong layperson,
he lives in Boston with his wife and three children. Visit his website at:
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