Daniel Smith: Response to Panu Pihkala

Reponse to Panu Pihkala Rev. Dr. Daniel R. Smith Budapest, 28-29.August, 2017 1. Greetings from the USA – a “parallel universe”. I bring you greetings from the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, and from Lutheran Church of the Incarnation in Davis, CA the congregation I have served as pastor since 2010. I have been a pastor for 17 years, having studying one year in Hamburg, Germany. I received a doctorate in systematic theology from the Graduate Theological Union in 2013, specializing in Lutheran eco-theology. The purpose of my dissertation – of which the article I submitted is a brief summary – was to find a theological foundation to respond to the worldwide ecological crisis, of which climate change is a key signal.

As an American, to be honest, my first impulse is to apologize for our politics, which has gotten rather ugly. With the surprise election of Donald Trump as president – and believe me, it was a surprise to just about everybody (even him I think!), the future of climate action globally is very much in question. I have no answer to the question most of you are probably thinking: “how could so many people misunderstand or ignore such overwhelming scientific evidence??” I could talk for a long time about this – about how “#45” as many of us are calling him, has no place in the white house, about how he winks at racism and seeks only his own aggrandizement; about the scapegoating of Muslims and the racial tensions that are bubbling over in the streets of America right now, but whenever I begin talking about politics nowadays, it usually ends with me yelling and cursing – so I think I’d rather avoid that. I’m happy to talk with you about that separately, but suffice it to say our current political reality in the U.S. is something with which those of us in the climate movement must reckon. As the Germans say, “ich habe das Gefühl, ich stehe im falschen Film” – I have the sense that I’m in the wrong movie.

2. House-keeping. On sabbatical, visited the Holy Land, spent 5-6 weeks at home. I felt on the verge of boredom at times, but after a major home renovation last year that my father helped me with – much of which we did ourselves, there were many projects that needed to be taken care of: a. fixing sprinklers

b. c. d. e.

creating drainage building a deck cleaning water filter painting the eave near the roof.

Frustration of “not doing anything”, when in fact I was doing something very important: taking care of my house. That may be a way of thinking about the framework for this conference, and for the work of ecotheology more broadly. Some may be unsure, or not understand the what or why of theologians who actually care about the environment, but it is a kind of house-keeping, a tending to the ultimate oikos: planet earth. We have to take time every now and then to take a look at the house and see what condition it’s in and what needs to be done. If we look honestly and soberly, there is a lot of work to be done – our house is in disrepair.

3. The task of theology. The way I approach theology methodologically is as a dialogue between Word and World. Theology lives from the Word of God, which comes to us extra nos – outside of ourselves – offering a word of judgment and mercy. It comes from the Bible, but is ultimately incarnate in the “Word made flesh”. Yet this Word can only take flesh in the real world – so it must be translated into the language and culture of our time. Karl Barth said the preacher must have the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other (however depressing that may be). For this reason, I also believe theology must be in dialogue with science – allowing science to speak for itself, but not to speak for theology.

The wicked problem of climate change is that the science is so overwhelming in its message; so dark in its predictions that it’s difficult to know what to say at all as theologians and pastors. That may be one reason “climate denial” is so high – even to talk about it feels at times like staring at the sun. One of the primary problems with climate change is feeling stuck – knowing that action must be taken, but feeling the sickening inevitability of the worst effects of global warming, like a slowmotion avalanche overtaking you. Houston is flooded with stormwater as we sit here. California, where I live, just ended a six-year extreme drought. Permafrost in the arctic is melting, releasing even more GHGs. Half of the coral reefs in the earth’s oceans are dying as the water is becoming increasingly acidic. As Peter Pavlovic noted in his paper, the Paris climate accord was a high moment – a chance to celebrate a possible new future toward which we may live. But it was met with bad

news from the scientific community – a message of “too little, too late”, and then the election of a climate-denying administration in Washington sticking its proverbial finger in the eye of the climate movement.

4. Is there hope to be found? I appreciated Darren Webb’s research into “hope”. With all of the bad news we hear, it’s perhaps not surprising that people would dedicate themselves to the topic, and it was fascinating to review the various conceptions of the term. As a “Moltmannian”, I resonated perhaps most with the open-ended, critical hope – that is hope that doesn’t have a concrete goal, but exists to negate the negative and rely on a promised, if somewhat ill-defined future. However, I found elements in many of the other categories that were important. Studies such as these are helpful in discussions of climate science and climate action, especially between theology and science more broadly. How we define and use the term “hope” can by itself lead to misunderstanding. I think many climate scientists, in fact, rely on a “goal-directed” definition of hope, usually estimative – looking at the evidence and the facts and concluding that things are “hopeless” – i.e. action won’t amount to anything, even though it seems necessary. Whereas many of us in the philosophical or theological sciences think of hope as a more open-ended category, animating all that we do – hope is its own virtue, etc.

Toward the end of my dissertation research, I discovered an interesting parallel between two thinkers, one secular and one a theologian. Gus Speth, an environmental activist in the U.S., and theologian Jürgen Moltmann, both of whom advocated for a two-pronged approach to the problem of climate change – and to the ecological crisis more broadly.

This approach approximates the method of theology I outlined above.

The first prong is realism. It is facing soberly and honestly the facts on the ground. In the same way someone who really wants to lose weight must be honest with themselves about their eating and dieting habits, so must we who want to take action in lowering our impact on the planet must do. That means, even for us theologians, actually to engage the science – to talk to scientists, to read the research, and to become familiar with the data. Where do these theories come from? How confident can we be in the conclusions of the researchers? Are there other explanations? Etc. Just like the biblical prophets, who pointed God’s people to their failure to live up to the covenant – including those in power – so we must be prepared to face honestly and soberly our own

failures, both individually and collectively, to be the caretakers God created us to be (Genesis 2:15) – to “tend and keep” the earth.

But we cannot leave things there. The message of the cross points to something dark, to be sure – to God’s presence and suffering in the world, but it also points to light – and to hope. Hope is the second prong in this approach. That is what Speth and Moltmann also agree on. The final message cannot simply be “we’re screwed”, but “what must happen now?” Speth and Moltmann find hope in different places. Speth finds it in the social action of local groups, who take initiative to change their lifestyles and ultimately to change laws to move the human community toward sustainability. Moltmann finds hope in the same thing, but his ultimate hope comes from elsewhere. It comes from the “message about the cross” – that the cross, while a symbol of tragedy, of God’s real suffering in the world in Jesus, is also a symbol of hope – of a future that is promised, but not yet realized. We live in the “now and the not yet” – in the “in-between time”.

We cannot deny that the sense of “being stuck” is real – that climate change is a serious problem, and that the future of our species and the planet as we know it is very much in question. Both future generations and the species with which we share this planet have a moral claim on us.

We are failing both. But, as has always been the case with God’s people, hope lives especially in the midst of crisis. It is important to note that we cannot find hope in the data of climate science alone. It is a theological virtue – to be found between the cross and the empty tomb, the narrative that shapes the lives of those who follow Jesus. I genuinely believe the church has something to offer the rest of the world, especially the environmental community, which is so often stuck in despair at the sickening inevitability of climate change. Those who are cursed to understand the science at its depth have hard time seeing anything positive to look forward to.

But that does not mean that all hope is lost. I believe we need the resources of Moltmann’s present eschatology – the creative and imaginative effort that comes from a critical yet resolute hope; a confidence that the future can be better because it is ultimately in God’s hands. It might look different than we anticipated, and there are many things we may need to let go of. But it seems to me that as theologians, we have no other option than to attempt to be part of the solution, as

partners with other people of good will, and ultimately with God, whom we are blessed to serve as stewards and caretakers of our planetary oikos.

Other points to make during the conference:  Language of climate change: “believe in” – problematic.  Two concepts of the future: futurum and adventus (Moltmann). One looks from the present toward the future; the other anticipates the ultimum novum – something radically different.  Ecological economics – that economical imagination has to take place within the constraints of nature.  “Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here” – Dante. Distinction between despair and hopelessness. The former can be part of a healthy spirituality, the other is utter depression, and can lead to suicide.

Re: passive hope vs. despair, suffering, etc. Tillich: “The Right to Hope”.

Panu: seeds of darkness are planted in us sometimes. Panu’s recent book drew on “seasons of the soul” – church uses winter or night to express something. But winter and night are not evil; they are part of the natural cycle of things.