The following is the full version of an essay I presented at the 2011 Zygon Symposium for Science and Spirituality at the Lutheran School of Theology in Chicago, Illinois.
Never before have so many people lived in conditions of such stark separation from the earth. With all the trappings of modern supermarkets and superhighways, it is easy to forget that much about life today is historically unprecedented. Many of the benefits achieved, particularly those in medicine and science, have had undeniably positive effects, but society’s transformation has also caused our connections with the natural world to weaken. Most people no longer labor to produce the food they eat or have to expend themselves physically to heat their homes or travel great distances. We first encounter our meals as processed and packaged commodities and we power our lives with the flick of a light switch or press of a gas pedal. As a result, our reliance upon the land from which we gather the things to feed and clothe ourselves has become an abstract idea rather than a daily lived relationship. But in the wake of our technological dawning, signs that all is not well with this arrangement have begun to emerge.
Scientists estimate that at least three, but as many as 30 living species go extinct each day.[1] Biologist E.O. Wilson predicts that fully one half of all living species will be gone by the year 2100—a time so near that most of our children will live to see this.[2] In his findings, Wilson spells out the five greatest threats to endangered species using the acronym H.I.P.P.O., with H representing Habitat Loss, I for Introduced Species, P for Pollution, another P for Population Growth, and an O for Over-consumption.[3] If we are to respond in any meaningful way, a greater understanding of these factors will surely be key, but the focus of this paper probes the heart of these issues, examining the theological and ethical dimensions of humanity’s hand in a world that’s unraveling. As a Christian and as someone concerned about these matters, I have turned to scripture in search of healing wisdom that might help illuminate what a healthy relationship between humankind and the earth could look like. Given this world’s present state and the need for communities of faith to bear witness against these destructive agents, this essay will focus on the Biblical writings attributed to the Deuteronomic source giving particular emphasis to a passage known as the Shema, in hopes gleaning constructive, biblical ideas of land ethic from ancient Israel.
By invoking the phrase land ethic, I tether this pursuit to ideas first expressed by the late, naturalist Aldo Leopold. In his now landmark book A Sand County Almanac, Leopold lays out the need for people to develop a relationship of care and responsibility for the sustained health of the earth and its creatures. He calls us to understand the integral nature of each piece of an ecosystem with eyes for the integrity and preservation of the whole biotic community.[4] Leopold claims these things matter, not merely for matters of beauty, but also for the continued health and survival of all creatures, including humans.[5] Deuteronomy was chosen with these same reasons in mind as much of it deals with the intertwined nature of our relationship with God and the land. Furthermore, its appeal lies in its centrality to both the Jewish and Christian faiths—two religions whose moral voice will be needed if any headway is to be made.
The Shema, which is found in Deuteronomy 6:4-5, provides an excellent launch point as it is regarded by both Jews and Jesus as the heart of the Torah.[6] It reads, “Hear, O Israel: The LORD is our God, the LORD alone. You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might.”[7] Throughout history, much attention has been paid to these words as they are considered to be the distilled essence of the Ten Commandments.[8] For Christians, these same words are echoed by Jesus who quotes the Shema as the first of his two greatest commandments, with the second being, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”[9] Importantly, within today’s linguistic constructs, the Hebrew word translated as love actually means loyalty and obedience.[10] Thus, the concept communicated requires the steadfast adherence of would-be devotees also requiring their keeping of the Ten Commandments. But to understand this further, one must understand how this piece of Israel’s story fits into its greater narrative.
If one were to draw a timeline of Israel’s story, Deuteronomy accounts for the moment just before Israel passes into the land of Canaan, their Promised Land. This follows their wandering in the desert wilderness for forty years. In chapter five, just before the Shema passage, we find an account of Moses handing down the Ten Commandments. As scholar Walter Brueggemann notes in his book, The Land, here we see Israel pause at the river Jordan to reflect as they prepare to leave the wilderness and enter into the land promised to their ancestors by covenant. Intrinsically, this moment entails the birth of a new identity for Israel—one in which they will cease to be wanderers of the desert and become a land having people. It is here that God’s Law is issued—at the precipice of their long-awaited inheritance. Brueggemann sees this as an anticipatory effort to understand how becoming a people with land will affect their covenant with God. For Israel, this acquisition means the in-grafting of a third presence into their relationship.[11] As Leopold’s reminds us, land, in actuality, signifies the whole community of life it supports including: the soils, animals, waters, and plants that make up each biosphere.[12] Clues telling of Israel’s awareness of these factors can be found in their words.
In the verses immediately framing the Shema, in both Deuteronomy 5:33-6:3 and in 6:10-15, two distinct themes arise. The first is that land is viewed as a gift. The second is that Israel’s future success and the land’s fruitfulness is contingent upon their continued obedience to God. Thus, as Brueggemann notes, this moment of fulfilled promise, “binds Israel in new ways to the giver.”[13] As modern scholars sometimes liken ancient Israel to indigenous cultures, in efforts to better understand their context, Brueggemann’s point is further bolstered by Marcel Mauss’s research on the understanding of gifts in indigenous societies. According to Michael Northcott’s translation of Mauss’ work, “Mauss argues that the modern understanding of ‘gift’ as something which is ‘freely’ given without expectation of return is a consequence of the dominance of capitalist concepts of contract, price and private property in industrial societies. In indigenous cultures gift is understood not in contradistinction to exchange but as a biologically and socially embedded exchange that sustains… relationships in communities of place.”[14] Given the relational dimensions of such exchanges, we must ask if Deuteronomy’s sandwiching of the Shema—the so-called heart of the Torah—between these reminders of the land as gift is a mere coincidence? While we may not be able to fully known the mind of its writers, within the book of Deuteronomy, the word ‘give’ is used in reference to land over 75 times. Furthermore, the area being gifted is described as abundant, flowing with milk and honey, but also as filled with houses, cisterns, and vineyards that they did not build or plant.[15] These descriptors emphasize that Israel did nothing to receive these riches. Brueggemann calls, “The rhetoric at the boundary [as] that of pure gift, radical grace,” and says, “There is no hint of achievement or merit or even planning.”[16] For Israel, this windfall reception came with a corollary sense of responsibility to care for their inheritance as a shared resource. The gratitude they felt left them with a sense of obligation to care for what they’d been given. Reflecting briefly on today’s circumstances, given our present dilemma, we face a crisis in need of attention—one that demands that we, as a society, begin to question the values that allowed things to slip into such disrepair. As trustees of a world equally rich with unearned blessings, we too ought to ask how a sense of gratitude could shape our use and care for the land we’ve inherited. As we will see, Israel’s response is set forth in its laws.
Much of Deuteronomy reads like a manifesto, presenting rules to guide Israel in its daily affairs. Similar to other contractual documents of this period, it chases these dictums with blessings and curses—pronouncing rewards for obedience and punishments for disobedience.[17] The morals underpinning these admonitions center on themes of fairness, balanced living, and generosity. These are seen in the Sabbath laws, the rules governing the division of resources, and the calls for charity towards neighbors in need, widows, orphans, and foreigners. Relevant to the question of land ethic, many instances, throughout the text, link Israel’s observance of God’s commands with the fertility of the land. Rooted in an overarching worldview with God as Creator, it sees the Divine as the source of all sustenance and, thusly, the source for all life. Thematically, the laws promote operating within the bounds of natural order set in place be God. Modern readers familiar with the geographic area in question will recognize that although the land is comparatively more habitable than the desert surrounding it, for one to live and thrive in such an arid region, there is need for a modicum of restraint. Perhaps this explains some of the cooperative customs Deuteronomy proscribes, such as when one finds a bird’s nest, only taking the eggs, but not the mother who laid them, or the forbidding of excessive tree harvesting, and the requirement to always be willing to help chase after a neighbor’s escaped donkey.[18] On the whole, this communal text can be seen as an attempt to engineer a society that will live on for ages to come. But for these ideals to endure, they needed a way of being passed on.
In Deuteronomy 6:6-9, the verses immediately following the Shema, Israel is instructed to keep its words in their heart, to continually recite them, teach them to their children, and to place reminders on their doorposts—all practices still observed today by modern Jews. These instructions highlight Israel’s greatest challenge—the remembrance of their lives and land as gifts from God. As Brueggemann points out, moving into the land of Canaan, with their physical needs now met, “The temptation of satiation is to transform a historical gift given in a moment of covenant that separates no-gift and gift existence. [Thus, life] becomes an eternally guaranteed situation without change or demand, evoking neither risk nor gratitude.”[19] In light of this very human tendency, the writers appear to have written in hopes of keeping this from happening. Their primary thrust seeks to inculcate a covenantal, relational identity fostering a spirit of mutual indebtedness and right relations with God. Ultimately, their words instill a sense of reality grounded in viewing life as a gift.
It is from this perspective, one steeped in gratitude and intentionality, that Israel’s notion of communal inheritance emerges—an idea that names that which we pass on generationally. Thus, communal inheritance can mean land, resources, cultural heritage, or wisdom passed down through the ages. As Hebrew scholar Ellen Davis writes in her book, Scripture, Culture, and Agriculture, ancient Israel was an agrarian society and as such, “Agrarians do not assume, as states and other militarized entities (including at times the militarized church) almost invariably do, that the only important political or moral question regarding land possession concerns political sovereignty over land. Rather, they place priority on the care of land, asking whether or not practices of land tenure and use serve that end.”[20] Thus, as this perspective inherently entails, Israel’s view of land as gift also presents them with the charge of new responsibility. Their recognition of indebtedness to both their predecessors and their offspring, as well as to their God and each other, gave shape to the holistic agenda we find in Deuteronomy. In addition to its attempts to establish religious uniformity, ethical means of land distribution, and fairness in civil disputes, we find concern over both past and future as well as a refusal to separate the physical from the spiritual. Its words impart an awareness of life’s interconnectedness and the understanding that one’s behavior towards others makes public one’s regard for the Divine. It is perhaps for these reasons that we find the Shema’s command to love the Lord wrapped within instructions to love each other as well as the land.
When considering today’s plight, in light of these truths, we see in Israel’s example the importance of stretching our awareness beyond the immediate moment. We also see the fallacy of separating internal virtues from external actions. These disconnects, which sever us from our ancestors and future generations, along with the artificial divides they place between that which is called spiritual and that which is called physical, may ultimately prove key in identifying the innermost causes of our ecological woes. We see, in Deuteronomy, a people whose cosmological worldview knows not these barriers—a faith that stresses the tangible nature of sacred devotion. For us, this would require transforming our awareness to an understanding of how many of our simplest daily habits can have harmful, cascading effects and the embodiment of these new virtues.
For now, what truths can be gleaned from this search for a Biblical land ethic? At least two principles have been uncovered—firstly, that of seeing the land as a divinely derived gift and the need for a sustained remembrance of this reality. Secondly, our need, as a society, to recognize the world’s interconnected nature and to accept the inescapable responsibility that this truth charges us with. While some modern ecological thinkers would still find fault in some of the anthropocentric implications of humanity seeing the earth and its life as a gift, and while these concerns do raise valid points, Deuteronomy’s perspective, if adopted, would revolutionize our approach to today’s crisis. In striking similarity to Leopold’s land ethic, Deuteronomy constructs a unified vision of life portraying it as web of co-dependent actors. This prevents a living thing’s valuation from being determined by its potential use for humankind and recognizes that each piece of the biosphere is intrinsic to the planet’s overall health. Also, both Leopold and the Deuteronomists recognize the need for humans to exercise self-restraint and responsible prudence. Perhaps most of all, they both call into question assumptions of entitlement while resting in the knowledge that our fate lies bound up with the entirety of God’s creation. But by linking their story to God’s revelatory action in this world, Israel makes the unique move of drawing each of these pieces into one Holy relationship. Scholar Brevard Childs describes Deuteronomy’s canonical significance as the capturing of a new generation’s re-imagining of themselves in relationship with God. [21] In it, we see how a community wrestled with what it means to live faithfully with one another, God, and the land. Much as they did, and like Israel pausing at the river Jordan, we too have cause for reflection. As wilderness advocate Dave Foreman frames things, our handling of the next forty years will dictate whether or not animals, like Grizzly Bears, Harpy Eagles, or Crocodiles, exist for thousands of years to come.[22] Faced with such sobering circumstances and in light of Wilson's work pinpointing the sources of these troubles, as we look towards our collective future we must ask what changes are necessary to stave off disaster. As we begin to re-imagine our relationship with the land, let us not forget to exercise gratitude for the gift that is life itself.
Bibliography
Bernard Anderson, Steven Bishop, and Julie Newman. Understanding the Old Testament, 5th ed. Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 2006.
Bouma-Prediger, Steven. 2001. For the Beauty of the Earth. Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2001.
Brueggemann, Walter. The Land: Place as Gift, Promise, and Challenge in Biblical Faith. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2002.
Childs, Brevard. Introduction to the Old Testament as Scripture. Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979.
Davis, Ellen. Scripture, Culture, and Agriculture: An Agrarian Reading of the Bible. Cambridge: University Press, 2009.
Dave Foreman and Derrick Jensen. Listening to the Land: Conversations about Nature, Culture, and Eros. White River Junction, Vermont: Chelsea Green Publishing, 2004.
Leopold, Aldo. A Sand County Almanac, New York, New York: Ballantine Books, 1966.
Northcott, Michael. A Moral Climate: The Ethics of Global Warming. Maryknoll, New York: Orbis, 2007.
Weinfeld, Moshe. The Anchor Bible: Deuteronomy 1-11. New York: Doubleday, 1991.
Wilson, Edward O. The Future of Life. New York, New York: Vintage Books, 2002.
[1] Steven Bouma-Prediger. For the Beauty of the Earth (Grand Rapids, Michigan: Baker Academic, 2001), 45.
[2] Edward O. WILSON, The Future of Life, (New York, New York: Vintage Books, 2002). 77.
[3] Edward O. WILSON, The Future of Life, 50-51.
[4] Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac, (New York, New York: Ballantine Books, 1966). 262.
[5] Ibid., 239-240.
[6] Bernard Anderson, Steven Bishop, and Julie Newman. Understanding the Old Testament, 5th ed. (Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey: Prentice Hall, 2006), 346.
[7] Deuteronomy 6:4-5, New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
[8] Bernard Anderson, Steven Bishop, and Julie Newman. Understanding the Old Testament, 346.
[9] Matthew 22:37-39, NRSV
[10] Moshe Weinfeld, The Anchor Bible: Deuteronomy 1-11 (New York: Doubleday, 1991), 351.
[11] Walter Brueggemann, The Land: Place as Gift, Promise, and Challenge in Biblical Faith, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2002), 43-45.
[12] Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac, 262.
[13] Ibid., 45.
[14] Michael Northcott. A Moral Climate: The Ethics of Global Warming. (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis, 2007), 127.
[15] Deuteronomy 6:10-12, NRSV
[16] Brueggemann, The Land, 46.
[17] Deuteronomy 27:11-26,28, NRSV
[18] Deuteronomy 21:19-20, 22:1-4, NRSV
[19] Brueggemann, The Land, 51.
[20] Ellen Davis. Scripture, Culture, and Agriculture: An Agrarian Reading of the Bible, (Cambridge: University Press, 2009), 102.
[21] Brevard S. Childs. Introduction to the Old Testament as Scripture (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1979), 224.
[22] Dave Foreman and Derrick Jensen, Listening to the Land: Conversations about Nature, Culture, and Eros, (White River Junction, Vermont: Chelsea Green Publishing, 2004), 7.
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