Stop Saying, "What has this to do with you? or with me?" Before Time Runs Out

"What has this to do with you? or with me?"
Based on John 2:1-11. (Image: Joe Scarry)

Madeline Island is my place to focus on the problem of nuclear disarmament.

One of the ways I'm hoping to do that is by way of more graphic/visual materials. Perhaps I will create a memoir in graphic novel format.

I now try to put pencil to sketch pad every single day. The more I draw, the more I remember; and the more I remember, the more I realize how the problem of nuclear weapons has been woven into my experience, from the time I was a little boy in the '60s.

Yesterday I got an idea for a unifying concept, and a possible cover.

My partner, Rachel, preached her first sermon as pastor of St. John's Church of Madeline Island. She spoke about the day's lectionary text - Jesus turning water into wine at the wedding at Cana. Rachel asked us to pay attention not just to what Jesus did in that story, but also to the role of Mary. Mary was the one who said, in effect, "It's time. Let's do this thing . . . . " Rachel asked us to notice that it really all started with Mary; without that push from Mary, all we are left with is "divine reluctance."

I woke up this morning and realized that one of the many areas of life that this applies to is humanity's confrontation with nuclear weapons. Our reaction to this monumental threat is so very much characterized by distancing . . . reluctance . . . dis-engagement. "Too much to think about . . . let's talk about something else . . . . " And that resonated with my own experience

What would happen if some people could successfully say, with respect to the urgent need for nuclear disarmament, "It's time. Let's do this thing . . . . " ? What would happen if enough people said it that there was no room left anymore for, "What has this to do with you? or with me?"


You can watch Rachel's January 20 sermon on the St. John's Madeline Island Ustream channel. (Her sermon begins at minute 21:50.)

The Hawaii Alert: What Have We Learned About the Nuclear Threat?

"Let's play a game . . . . "
(Image: Joe Scarry)

One year ago tomorrow, people in Hawaii were subjected to a warning that missiles were incoming.

Have we learned anything from that experience? I have tried to hear about the experiences of people who were there that day, and I have suggested that there should be a broad-based effort to do so.

Of the stories that I have heard, this is the one I just can't get out of my mind: A mother and father were at home with their little boy. They realized there was no safe place in the house to take shelter, and that the best they could do was to get in the innermost part of the house, get down on the floor, and try to shield their son with their own bodies. And so for the duration of the alert they formed a tight ball, telling their son that they were playing a game, and the point of the game was to cover every single part of his body with their bodies, so not a single part was showing.

That posture -- in a tight embrace with our beloveds, waiting for the end, accepting our own fate and yet hoping for a better fate for someone else -- seems to me very symbolic of where we have ended up in this nuclear weapons-dominated world.

I wonder: if we confronted what we have really been reduced to, might it help us stand up and demand a change?


Related posts: 

"Dawn of a new Armageddon" by Cynthia Lazaroff in Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists.

"Nuclear False Alarm Shows Why State Politics Are Not Enough" by Emma Claire Foley on Beyond the Bomb website.

"Mourning Armageddon" music video by Makana - "As one of over a million people in Hawai'i who were told on January 13, 2018 that they were about to be hit by a nuclear missile, renowned Hawai’i artist Makana said, 'Waking to an alert of a nuclear attack in Hawai’i got me thinking. Why is this even a possibility?'"

Trailer for film project "False Alarm" - "False Alarm takes a look at the diverse reactions to the surreal and traumatic morning when families, soldiers, tourists, and every person on Hawaii was forced to confront an unthinkable reality—an incoming nuclear missile. More than that, it explores the psychological reasons why this false disaster - which so dramatizes many faults in our current systems – may succeed or fail to inspire us to create a different future."


See also:

The Children Are Waiting

Brief Encounter With the Nuclear Sponge: ICBMs on America's Great Plains (Wyoming, Nebraska, and Colorado)

The corner where Wyoming, Nebraska, and Colorado meet hosts
150 Minuteman-III nuclear missiles, 50 each in the 319th, 320th,
and 321st Missile Squadrons of the USAF 90th Missile Wing, based
at Francis E. Warren AFB, just west of Cheyenne, WY. The missile
silos surround a 100-mile stretch of Rt. 80. (Sketch: Joe Scarry)

Speaking of the long drive from the Bay Area to Madeline Island . . . our route took us through one of three missile fields where intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) are based in the US.

There are three areas where US land-based nuclear missiles are based, each with about 150 missiles: Montana, South Dakota, and the corner where Wyoming, Nebraska, and Colorado meet. Our trip took us through the last of these.

The missiles are in silos underground, so there is not much to see as you speed along Rt. 80. One might even wonder if the people who live in the area even know they're there.

Luckily, we had the perfect audiobook for the drive: The Missile Next Door: The Minuteman in the American Heartland, by Gretchen Heefner. Heefner's book focuses on the first phase of nuclear missiles being brought to the region, beginning in the '60s. Anyone who wants to know about public engagement (and dis-engagement) around the issue of nuclear weapons will want to study this work carefully.

The Missile Next Door: The Minuteman in
the American Heartland, by Gretchen Heefner

Here's one small facet of the story: the strategy behind installing the missiles in these locations is referred to as the "nuclear sponge." The thinking goes like this: in the event of all-out nuclear war, an adversary would need to expend a large part of its arsenal attempting to destroy the US missile silos. The vast areas of Montana, South Dakota, and Wyoming-Nebraska-Colorado containing 450 widely spaced missile silos would serve to "soak up" a big part of the nuclear force aimed at the US. Every incoming missile soaked up by the "sponge" would be one less headed for Chicago or San Francisco.

(A technical note: currently, those 450 Minuteman-III missiles are each topped with three W78 warheads. The explosive power of a single W78 is believed to be in the range of 335-350 kilotons, or something over 20 times the size of the atom bomb dropped on Hiroshima. That means the destructive power of Minuteman-III missiles spread across Montana, South Dakota, and Wyoming-Nebraska-Colorado is about 27,000 Hiroshimas.)

What did (and do) people in these plains states think about being part of the nuclear sponge? And about the 27,000-Hiroshima arsenal nestled amidst their fields and pastures? Heefner's book gives some answers; a lot more are needed.

My brief encounter with the Wyoming-Nebraska-Colorado nuclear sponge gave me a chance to consider some difficult questions. Is it possible that the missile fields will never experience an attack? and/or never have an accident? Perhaps everything's going to be okay? Perhaps I should just sit back and enjoy the scenery? . . . and/but . . . What if . . . ? What if the thing that everyone hopes (expects, assumes) won't really happen . . . really does happen?