Political Spirituality in an Age of Eco-Apocalypse: Communication and Struggle Across Species, Cultures, and Religions

240 Pages·2015·4.96 MB·English

by  James W. Perkinson

Political Spirituality
in an Age of Eco-Apocalypse

Political Spirituality
in an Age of Eco-Apocalypse
Communication and Struggle
Across Species, Cultures,
and Religions
James W. Perkinson
political spirituality in an age of eco-apocalypse
Copyright James W. Perkinson, 2015
All rights reserved.
First published in 2015 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN® in the United
States—a division of St. Martin’s Press LLC, 175 Fifth Avenue, New
York, NY 10010.
Where this book is distributed in the UK, Europe and the rest of
the world, this is by Palgrave Macmillan, a division of Macmillan
Publishers Limited, registered in England, company number 785998,
of Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS.
Palgrave Macmillan is the global academic imprint of the above
companies and has companies and representatives throughout the
world.
Palgrave® and Macmillan® are registered trademarks in the United
States, the United Kingdom, Europe and other countries.
ISBN: 978-1-137-50700-6
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Perkinson, James W.
Political spirituality in an age of eco-apocalypse : essays in
communication and struggle across species, cultures, and religions /
James W. Perkinson.
pages cm
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-137-50700-6 — ISBN 1-137-50700-4 1. Human
ecology—Religious aspects—Christianity. 2. Sustainability.
3. End of the world. 4. Religion and politics. I. Title.
BT695.5.P43 2015
201'.77—dc23
2015002538
A catalogue record of the book is available from the British Library.
Design by Amnet.
First edition: July 2015
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Dedicated to the ancestors—of my blood, of this soil,
of all life here where the river goes round.

Contents
Acknowledgments ix
Introduction: The Politics and Eco-Logics
of “Spiritual” Communication 1
1 From Sycamore Trees to Human Destiny: Reading the
Wild at the Crossroads of Globalization and Apocalypse 17
Part I The Question in the Biblical Tradition:
Communication and Resistance
2 Cain’s Offering and Abel’s Cry: Reading Sabbath
Jubilee at the Crossroads of Farming and Foraging 35
3 Wild Weeds and Imperial Trees: Reading a Messianic
Parable at the Crossroads of Settlement and the Wild 53
Part II The Question and the Christian Tradition:
Communication and Empire
4 Sinai Bush and Jordanian Dove Meet Haitian Snake and
Amazonian Vine: Reading Christology at the Crossroads
of Empire and Ecology 69
5 Christian Supremacy and Indigenous Savvy: Reading
Race at the Crossroads of Europe and the Americas 87
Part III The Question in Modernity: Communication
Among the Subordinated
6 Underneath Guadalupe; Inside Ezili: Reading Possession
at the Crossroads of Performance and Terror 105
7 Praying with the Corn/Playing on the Horn: Reading
Jazz at the Crossroads of the Country and the City 123
viii Contents
Part IV The Question in Post-Modernity:
Communication and Globalization
8 DJ Qbert as Cyber-Maniac Shaman: Reading DJ-ing
at the Crossroads of Tradition and Information 149
9 Grammar of Spirit Inside De-Industrial Ferment: Reading
Hip-Hop Beats at the Crossroads of Blight and Order 171
Part V Personal Conclusion: Communication and
Spirituality in Post-Colonial Partnership
10 Thinking from the Diaspora Back Toward the Homeland:
Reading Humanity at the Crossroads of Solidarity and
Extinction 187
Notes 203
Bibliography 211
Index 221
Acknowledgments
This book began in eleven different hours, teased by breezes and
haunts untold—those faint inklings that show up when the day is
young, the body again poised, however brief and wrinkled, before a
morning sun. Each chapter has a different germ, a spur or hand from
a different turn of the calendar and muse. But the rhizome of life
remains constant. I have a mother now in her second century, who
pushes on past mission and love, cruising before the night, with cour-
age and laughter still on her brow. A father gone to the other side,
flickering into view on occasion in dream-time struggles to purge the
pain and desire of day. Grandparents long singing their German, Irish,
Dutch, and English tunes over deeper runes and darker hues, not
knowing, I think, they were, as we all are, born of ancient Afrique. I
only slowly now even know to seek their counsel, coming not in word
but silhouette and shadow, a grammar of loam. And then there are
the scents, the tremors of heart, the slight stealing light at the edge
of a book or tool, the cicada-din on summer’s back—all the giftings
of that chorus of prehuman labor and savvy, from squirrel to sparrow
to thunder and iron and far constellations. All of them—inside this
flesh, breathing or feeding or holding forth against gravity’s pull. I
age, and owe more than I can account, to more than I can name.
Though I do name those tribal ones, those shunted-aside ones, those
indigenous precursors of the race—so beleaguered now, nearly disap-
peared, who yet teach—here the Ojibwa; in New Mexico, the pueblo
and (strangely) the Tzutujil; at a distance, the Aeta, the Hadza, the
Huarani. I know these only by report. But they speak! I have buddies
of the streets here in Detroit, cohorts in conspiring, pushing back on
the emergency of the hour and paying small prices. I have “exem-
plars” who do not know they are such—poor friends of color, surviv-
ing the times, in spite of. Kin of the mind whose writing and repartee
is a warm fire when the year permits a momentary gathering to listen
and drink and pontificate. Friends old and new, from coasts distant,
watersheds verdant or drying, woods north and colder. Carnival folk
in Philly; Chicago adepts scattered northwest and across an ocean; a