I discovered a new use for those left over face masks from the pandemic this summer. It began on an evening in June when I was working in my back yard and I kept coughing and my throat felt raspy. My eyes were burning. And I noticed the haze in the evening sky turning the sun deep crimson. Smoke. From fires in Canada. In the last few days, it has been back for the third time–a plume of smoke that had its origins in western Canada as unprecedented dry conditions have resulted in a summer of fires across Canada. This plume eventually covered all of the northern US, traveling more than 2500 miles just to reach us. Every time our winds come from the north, our air conditions deteriorate. At its worst, our Air Quality Index hit 233, considered very unhealthy for everyone. I go for evening walks. I wore a face mask on a few of the worst evenings. I delayed cutting my lawn to avoid making things any worse.
Until this year, this was something I heard about from friends in the west. Now I wonder if this will be a recurring problem.
My sister lives in Phoenix. They have just surpassed the record for consecutive days in excess of 110 degrees. The ten day forecast suggests there is no relief in sight. Her air conditioning runs constantly. Buying any refrigerated groceries is a challenge. The temperatures there are part of a heat dome that has covered much of the south and southwest this summer.
Triple digit heat domes have hit Europe and China as well. I just heard that the fifteen hottest days on record on Earth have all been in July 2023. And when this happens, people who don’t have access to adequate hydration and places to cool off begin dying. Cooling largely still relies on carbon-based fuels in many parts of the world, so increased cooling means increased emissions of greenhouse gases–a vicious cycle.
Meanwhile, locations as diverse as the Hudson Valley, Vermont, parts of the south, and even the Taj Mahal are facing flooding from record rains. Early this year, after years of drought, the western U.S. was inundated with an “atmospheric river” of repeated rainstorms. In the middle of the country, it has been an active tornado season and, to date, 74 people have died, three times the typical year.
The ocean is experiencing a heat wave as well with temperatures in the Atlantic off Florida in excess of 90 degrees, and similarly in parts of the Gulf of Mexico. Hurricane season hasn’t begun but ocean heat feeds super storms. Meanwhile, the danger is the destruction of coral reefs, and in turn, the aquatic populations that inhabit them.
All of this obscures ongoing processes of melting glaciers, Antarctic and Greenland ice and permafrost melting releasing methane, raising ocean and CO2 levels over the long term.
It feels to me that in the 1980’s and 1990’s, the planet was whispering to us about the changes occurring. In the last two decades, we’ve gone from a whisper to urgent speaking tones. We noticed the milder winters and longer frost-free seasons. This summer, it feels like Earth has begun to shout. Is it saying, “This is the new normal” or “You ain’t seen nothing yet”? I sense that it is probably the latter from all I have read.
It means several things to me. One is that we are going to see rising climate mitigation costs, in the forms of insurance, tax-funded government aid, food production costs and more. If we decide to seriously address carbon-emissions, this will mean rethinking life as we know it. We think tech will fix it but I don’t know any technology that doesn’t require energy. Relying only on wind, solar, hydro, and nuclear raises questions in my mind about whether these can generate enough unless we change the way we live. It makes me wonder about what a life not as reliant on combustion or electricity is like. Perhaps we need to study the Amish.
Earlier this year, I read Stephan Markley’s The Deluge, a prophetic book if there is one. It is a fictional account of the near future exploring the challenges posed to our public and political and international order by accelerating extreme weather events. It’s scary.
At one time I thought it would be our children who would face the consequences of our climate incontinence. Now it seem increasingly likely that we’ll face this with them, with the increased vulnerabilities of age. And so I think about what it will mean to lean into my faith as I face this. For me, Philippians 4:13 comes to mind: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” Paul speaks of this in times of plenty or want. What it does suggest is that even if life is stripped down to the bare necessities of survival, the love empowered by Christ of God and neighbor and the peace of being in relationship with God remain. It seems to me that now is the time to ask what will spiritually sustain us for the time ahead. Rather than trying to maintain the illusions of normal, of the American dream, we need to ask what will sustain us if times get hard, and the core of our humanity is challenged.
It seems to me that this summer is the Earth’s wake up call, and it is too insistent to hit the snooze button. As we rub our burning eyes, we need to ask how now will we live? How will we live toward God, toward each other, and toward our changing planet? Whether we ask it or not, we are answering this question day by day.
