Preached by Winton Boyd on May 3, 2009
Barbara Brown Taylor, in an article on the book of Genesis in the Old Testament in the new Green Bible, writes, “If birds could write books, then their story of creation would no doubt ready differently from ours. Sea creatures would probably still arrive on day five in the bird book of creation – pelicans would insist on that – plus, it makes sense to work your way up from the depths of the seas to the vaults of the heavens, filling creation with creatures as you draw nearer and nearer to God. By that reasoning, land creatures would come next, mice, chipmunks, goats, humans, camels – things like that – earthbound creatures that could not get off the ground for more than a second or two without coming right back down again – hard – on all those FEET.”
Bird mothers would remind their young that “bats were good in the air. Mountains goats so so, but humans, well..it was really kind of pitiful watch them try to fly – jumping off rocks, flapping their arms. Sometimes when they slept you see their limbs twitching, as if they were dreaming of flight. None of this was their fault, of course, bird mothers taught their children never to make fun of land creatures. “God made them that way,” the mothers said, “the same way God made you. Now go outside and fly!”
This tongue in cheek story is really a confession – that it took years and years of reading Genesis (she is a pastor and college religion professor) before she realized that human beings were not the first thing created on day six of the Genesis creation account. Before she realized that we humans are not really the center of the creation stories. In fact, on that day six, we first read, God said, “let the earth bring forth living creatures of every kind: cattle and creeping things and wild animals of the earth of every kind. And it was so…then God said, ‘let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness…”
The text from Genesis I just read continues, “let them (humanity) have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.”
It is this last verse that too often has defined the arguments around Christianity’s role – positive and negative – in caring for the earth, appreciating the sacredness of all life, and learning to live sustainably with the rest of creation. But Taylor suggests that we move beyond this one word, and one creature (ourselves) to see the breadth and wisdom of Biblical ecological spirituality.
Cal DeWitt, noted scientist and theologian, lays out several ways the spirituality of the Hebrew Bible informs our ecological spirituality today.(The Green Bible)
The first biblical invitation is to see faith as a matter of Earth keeping. Genesis 1:15 reads The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden to till it and keep it.” Till can also be translated serve. We may remember the word, Keep, from the traditional blessing in the book of Numbers, May the Lord bless and keep you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you; The Lord life up his countenance upon you, and give you peace,
“Keep” comes from a Hebrew word that means guard, safeguard, take care of. Even further, it means, keep something in all its vitality, energy, and beauty.
The invitation to be an earth keeper – to respect the power and the fragility of the natural world – from tornadoes that destroy our communities to lichen moss on mountain trails that once beaten down will take a generation to restore itself – is an invitation to move beyond our minds. As earth keepers, we seek a spiritual, or even mystical, understanding that understands we are part of the world we are trying to keep.
As earth keeper we recognize we are all connected. In his talk at our recent “Food, Faith and Earth Day” afternoon, Professor John Ikerd began by reminding us that “all living and nonliving things, including we humans, are part of the same matter and the same energy that make up the whole of the earth. The molecules that make up our bodies are the same molecules that have been on the earth since its beginning. These same molecules of carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, iron, zinc… have made up everything in the past and will make up everything in the future. The biological energy that fuels our bodies and the electrical impulses that stimulate our thoughts is the same energy that forms and reforms the earth’s molecules, continually renewing and transforming everything on earth, including us.” (see www.orucc.org for full transcript of Ikerd’s talk).
So a biblical ecology ponders this connectedness, relishes the beauty and vitality of all of creation and commits to a life of keeping, safeguarding, such beauties and mysteries.
Secondly, we live in a tradition that celebrates Fruitfulness. Of course, the Genesis account includes the famous words, “be fruitful and multiply” – and not just for humans – but for other creatures as well. Psalm 104, which we read just a bit ago, is in many ways a recitation of the creation’s fruitfulness. Right here in our bible’s prayer book, we see the ancient practice of celebrating the earth and its abundance.
The ancients understood that we are expected and invited to enjoy creation, but not destroy the fruitfulness that it’s fullness depends on. Even the words of Ezekiel could have been uttered by John Muir or Aldo Leopold, Is it not enough for you to feed on the good pasture, but you must tread down with your feet the rest of your pasture? When you drink of clear water, must you foul the rest with your feet?
As those committed to both the fullness and fruitfulness of creation, we heed the call to move from a life of ecological ignorance, a call out of self centeredness, to a life of appreciation and joy over the precarious nature of fruitful relationships.
It is to take seriously that our role in living a dominion of love, doing what we can to ensure the fullness of all species, all aspects of the natural world. It is to recognize that our ability to multiply does not supersede the needs of the rest of creation.
Finally, our tradition and bible speak in volumes of the need for Sabbath for both people and the land. In many ways, Sabbath involves the ancient practice of keeping the earth, and then letting the earth KEEP us.
They lifted up this ideal in their personal lives, their financial dealings, and their relationship to the fields they tilled. Then, as now, it was counter cultural in that it proclaimed our time, our work, our land and our finances are not really ours – they are “on loan” from God. There is historical debate over how much this mandated practice was actually followed – and many who speculate it remained a foreign or at least largely ignored practice.
Sabbath was then, and is now, a powerful and compelling invitation to step off whatever it is that consumes us – family life, work life, our education, or any number of passions that sap our spirit. A Sabbath rich life seeks to step off this pressurized life even for a brief moment here and there, even occasionally opening ourselves wholly and completely to the natural world around us. In so doing we may find a renewal of life and hope and faith. Practicing Sabbath – to the extent that we can – feeds our souls, comforts our loneliness, eases our confusion, and tempers our anxiety. It is a chance for us to experience some of the sentiment Mary Oliver touches on in her poem, “Evidence.”
Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous
to be understood.
How grass can be nourishing in the
mouths of the lambs.
How rivers and stones are forever
in allegiance with gravity
while we ourselves dream of rising.
…
Let me keep my distance, always, from those
who think they have the answers.
Let me keep company always with those who say
“Look!” and laugh in astonishment,
and bow their heads.
Through our Bible, and the ancient Hebrews, we are the recipients of a spirituality of connection, a theology of mutual sustainability, a prayer life rooted not just in words but in the experience of the divine all around us.
I shared with the Java and Jesus mailing list this past week that for me, sitting on a dock on a north woods summer evening, listening to the call of a loon, is a profound spiritual experience. I can’t explain why, but I find the haunting call of this somewhat reclusive bird and the way it echoes across the water to be a reminder that all will be well with the world. In ways I can’t articulate, I feel called to be an earth keeper, to celebrate the fruitfulness of all of God’s handiwork, and to know, in a Sabbath way, that I am not alone, my life belongs to the wider embrace of Grace.
Many, if not all of you, could identify such experiences in the natural world – which may contain loons or any number of aspects of the natural world. Experiences like this are also part of our ancient faith, and also informed and guided our spiritual forebears to a ecological spirituality, as necessary today as it has ever been. As we share in their faith, we seek in both ancient and new ways to be earthkeepers, witnesses and protectors of the fruitfulness and fullness of God’s creation, honoring Sabbath in order to live a life of balance and grace.
We started this service with a series of photos designed to remind us the world is speaking to us of hope and renewal.
May we open ourselves to this renewal and hope, and may we join the ancients in their song of praise – Bless the Lord, O my Soul. In wisdom you have made this world. In wisdom, may we hear your love…
Amen
Today’s text: Psalm 104
Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God, you are very great. You are clothed with honor and majesty, wrapped in light as with a garment. You stretch out the heavens like a tent, you set the beams of your chambers on the waters, you make the clouds your chariot, you ride on the wings of the wind, you make the winds your messengers, fire and flame your ministers.
You make springs gush forth in the valleys; they flow between the hills, giving drink to every wild animal; the wild asses quench their thirst. By the streams the birds of the air have their habitation; they sing among the branches. From your lofty abode you water the mountains; the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work.
You cause the grass to grow for the cattle, and plants for people to use, to bring forth food from the earth, and wine to gladden the human heart, oil to make the face shine, and bread to strengthen the human heart. The trees of the Lord are watered abundantly, the cedars of Lebanon that he planted. In them the birds build their nests; the stork has its home in the fir trees. The high mountains are for the wild goats; the rocks are a refuge for the coneys.
You have made the moon to mark the seasons; the sun knows its time for setting. You make darkness, and it is night, when all the animals of the forest come creeping out. The young lions roar for their prey, seeking their food from God. When the sun rises, they withdraw and lie down in their dens. People go out to their work and to their labor until the evening.
O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. Yonder is the sea, great and wide, creeping things innumerable are there, living things both small and great. There go the ships, and Leviathan that you formed to sport in it.
