Resisting the Green Dragon -- A Scriptural and Thelogical Response

(Below is my scriptural and theological response to this new DVD series put out by the Cornwall Alliance)
On the heels of the recent nuclear accident in Japan, not long after British Petroleum’s catastrophic oil spill in the Gulf, I’ve found myself increasingly on-edge about the ecological health of the planet. A few months back, while online, I stumbled across the trailer for a new DVD series, put out by a highly recognizable lineup of evangelical Christian leaders, entitled, Resisting the Green Dragon.[1] The series claims to be an exposé on the modern environmentalist movement, casting its supporters as touting a hidden agenda to promote “pagan” ideals and, ultimately, to gain global political dominion. Their fears struck me as doubtful, due to their fantastical nature, but as a Christian who loves many outdoor activities, such as hiking and camping, and as someone who has long since considered himself to be pro all-things-environmental, I wanted to check out their assertions to see if there could be any truth in them. Furthermore, as a seminarian with a love for theology and the natural world, I wanted to examine their claims that environmentalists hold unbiblical views of humanity’s place in creation amongst other creatures and that God’s exclusive concern is for human souls. Finally, many of the views expressed in the film reflect those I grew up believing, but have since found problematic. My response then will be to explore the assertions made by the film’s cast, in light of what I’ve learned and hold to be true, using scripture and historical Christian perspectives as my footholds, while seeking a better grasp on what a healthy human relationship with creation might look like. In past efforts, I have written about such questions focusing on the earth as a whole, concluding that scripture portrays land as a gift from God for our sustenance and continued thriving, but such views can be problematic when applied to our relationship with other creatures as they leave us to see them as existing solely for our use and exploitation. For this reason, below, I plan to specifically address humanity’s treatment of and possible obligations to the so-called “animal kingdom.” 

Before rushing into such questions, it might first be useful to look at how people viewed animals in times past. Today, people often balk at notions of giving animals moral consideration (except when considering household pets), but these culturally, ingrained attitudes where not always so. Recently, I was surprised to learn of a practice in the Middle Ages known as “animal trials,” in which animals such as mice, pigs, and other barnyard creatures were actually tried before secular and ecclesiastical legal bodies for alleged crimes. Most often, cases involved pigs or other farm critters, but some tried insects and even leeches. Amazingly, such trials were not conducted by superstitious, poorly-educated peasants, but actual, legally-trained barristers.[2] I find these trials significant, not because they should be revisited, but because they show how humanity’s regard for non-human species is ever-changing, rather than static. With this in mind, as we turn our attention towards what scripture and theology say about the charges made by Resisting the Green Dragon, let us do so recognizing that a changing awareness of our world and its needs sometimes demands our willingness to take courageous leaps of moral faith in the chasing of God’s redemptive workings.

      

             In the film, Wendy Wright, president of Concerned Women for America, says that, “[Environmentalists] don’t see humans as the Bible—as God’s sees them—that human beings are made in the image of God and they have dignity, they have worth, they have the right to life.”[3] Referencing the latter half of Genesis chapter one, Mrs. Wright’s use of the phrase “made in the image of God,” (or imago dei) to draw a sharp distinction between humans and other creatures. While her reading of this passage is certainly in keeping with how many have understood these verses, readers would be wise to ask what the phrase imago dei intends to signify. It certainly does not mean to suggest that God has human-like arms, legs, or other physical attributes! In fact, the original authors of this text, themselves being theologically trained Jews, would have been careful to avoid describing God with any material specificity. This is because they would have wanted to avoid violating the commandment against creating graven images.[4] More likely, they would have viewed God much as theologian Paul Santmire describes the views of Church Father Augustine, saying that, “God is timeless, [an] unchanging One, who dwells in unapproachable mystery.”[5] As such, those who first penned Genesis 1:27 must have been alluding to other qualities they observed within human nature. Christians regard Jesus of Nazareth as the fullest revelation of God—therefore Christ is seen as the most pure imago dei we know. When looking at Christ’s life, we see how he willfully took on humanity’s inferior, finite condition. According to theologian Jurgen Moltmann, this loving, self-limiting decision is known as Christ’s kenotic action, or self-emptying. In Jesus’ example, we see a willingness to sacrifice oneself for the gain of lesser beings.[6] Commenting on the relevance of this to Christ’s followers, Church Father Irenaeus proclaims humanity’s ultimate end to be, “conform[ing] to the image of God’s Son.”[7] Thus, in following Jesus, we are to take on God’s sacrificially giving, justice seeking, and compassionate nature. Such an understanding, imparts a rather hefty call upon those seeking to embody the imago dei. In the verses to follow, we see that God’s commission comes with a blessing.

            Mrs. Wright’s quote references this blessing as humanity’s “right to life.” One gathers that she bases this upon Genesis 1:28, which reads “God blessed them, and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.’” Before unpacking the meaning behind subdue and dominion, let us focus of God’s blessing that people “be fruitful and multiple.” As Hebrew scholar John Rogerson puts it, from the beginning, God clearly wanted the human species “to become viable.”[8] What is significant to note here—a point overlooked by Mrs. Wright—is that this same blessing is spoken over creatures of the sea, the air, and the land.[9] In fact, following the creation and blessing of every creature, God reflects on them, calling each one “good.” From this we can gather that all creatures, not merely humans, possess the same blessing and therefore the same affirmations to live and thrive.  

            Later, in this verse, we encounter the words subdue and dominion, both of which can have troubling implications for someone concerned about animal cruelty and excesses of modern industrial agribusiness. In the film, this point is raised by David Barton, a well-known, evangelical commentator, who posits that, “Mankind is the apex of creation. He (meaning God) placed it over the planet—over the environment.”[10] Here Barton states a commonly held premise of modern society—one that has largely gone unquestioned until recent decades. But before blindly accepting humanity’s primacy, let us pause to consider why God created the Universe to begin with (as if we could ever really know!) to see what insight can be gleaned on the matter. When asking questions of why—such as why the Universe was created—we are really asking about purpose. To use philosophical terminology, we are questioning a thing’s telos or teleological nature. In classical Christian theology, as expressed by Santmire’s summary of Augustine’s thoughts on the matter, “the most fundamental telos of the whole creation is beauty, and the glorification of the God who wills such a magnificent community of being, every part of which has its own divinely validated integrity.”[11] Thus, life, as God wills it, is to flourish and bring glory to God! Augustine’s views were later echoed by another theological giant, Thomas Aquinas. Since then, this view on Creation’s telos has largely been accepted as a foundational Christian doctrine. When pairing this truth alongside the blessings cast over all creatures in Genesis chapter one, we can conclude that anything interfering with a species’ ability to live and thrive goes against God’s intended blessings for that creature. 

Given this affirmation, it is interesting to note that in the following verse, Genesis 1:29, God tells humans that we are to eat only fruit, seeds, and plants. (Sound of record scratching to a halt!) What? No animal flesh? That’s right. Whatever God intended by the words subdue and dominion, consumption was not part of the original plan—at least not as the Bible tells it. In fact, as the story in Genesis goes, people are not given permission to eat animals until after Noah leaves the ark, in Genesis 9:3—presumably several generations later and “the Fall.”[12] Thus, according to scripture, the eating of animals was a post-fall concession made by God. (Here is a point you won’t find in Resisting the Green Dragon!) Bearing these things in mind and returning to the words subdue and dominion, according to Hebrew scholar Ellen Davis, when properly viewed as intended, these words capture a poetic expression of what it means to be human. They were meant to convey a need for an intentional, artful approach to living. As such, Davis recommends that the words be translated as “exercising a skillful mastery of,” because this better reflects the spirit of the passage’s intent.[13] Moltmann, on this point, draws our attention to the fact that Genesis actually presents us with two creation stories, back to back. In the first account (Genesis 1:1-2:3), humans are created last—in the second (Genesis 2:4-25), they are created first. He believes the two stories are paired this way because each of them reveal significant, but unique truths about God and the order of creation. As such, he believes that the ‘subdue and dominion’ of Genesis 1:28 ought to be read alongside Genesis 2:15’s ‘tilling and keeping.’[14] Furthermore, as was noted by Moltmann’s notion of Christ’s kenotic example, theologian Jeremy Law concludes that, “If Christ is the measure of the image of God, and a model of the exercise of dominion, then what is envisaged is a servanthood aimed at community.”[15] But, if such things are true, what has kept Christians from realizing these aims and striving for them?

            Throughout time, humanity’s misuse of these scriptures has led to many excessive injustices being committed on our fellow creatures. I will leave the recounting of these horrors to those more qualified to report them, but one need only think of laboratory animals, the concentration-camp-like living conditions of modern factory farms, and the countless ecological disasters of recent decades to get my point. These practices point to humankind’s, thus far, un-checked exercise of earthly power, without regard to the welfare of other creatures. While it is not hard to understand our historic lust for power, having seen the repercussions of our ways, we must now search for the truth. In the film, Dr. Richard Land, President of the South Baptist Convention’s Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission, says that, “God created human beings and he created the earth for their habitation.”[16] Such a view fits nicely with current practices, but, upon closer theological analysis, proves problematic. A similar statement is echoed by Dr. Frank Wright, who in the film says, “We must care for creation, yes, but by caring for the things God cares for most—the souls of men and women.”[17] Such ideas encourage people to think of the earth as merely a stage on which the drama of human life is to unfold. In this casting, animals become like props to be manipulated at will. As we will find, suggestions like these run contrary to scripture. 

For example, in Genesis 9:8-17, after having destroyed the earth with a flood because of human sin, God promises to never repeat such a devastating punishment. Genesis 9:9-10 reads, “I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark.”[18] This passage is commonly referred to as the “Noahic covenant,” but upon closer reading, God clearly includes all creatures in the promise. This refrain is repeated four times, yet people still read this passage as pertaining to Noah and his human counterparts. Similar reminders of God’s universal care for creation can be found elsewhere in scripture (particularly in Deuteronomy, Isaiah, Job, Psalms, and Revelation), contradicting views portraying God’s concern as solely for that of humans. When considering the theological implications of this truth, the premise of seeing this world as a stage for humanity gets even more dicey. But to grasp this one must understand the prevailing forces present during Christianity’s formative years.  

During the same time period which begat Christianity, a religion called Gnosticism was on the rise. It embraced the neo-Platonic conception that reality was divided into two distinct realms: the spiritual (of which the soul belonged to) and the material (of which matter consists). The spiritual realm was seen as positive and holy, but the physical realm was seen as negative and corrupt. On top of this, Gnostic doctrine teaches that God is alien from creation, meaning wholly other from our fleshly pain and trials. Salvation then, under this conception, involves leaving behind this earth, which is corrupted and evil, for a wholly spiritual, divinely other dimension. The earth is seen as a prison we must transcend.[19] Early on, the Church Fathers and Mothers saw such dualistic thinking as problematic, believing it was reckless to suggest God would create something, deem it good, then allow for its decay and destruction. Such a reality would suggest God is an abandoning, irresponsible creator, which runs contrary to the Christian ideal that God is working out the redemption (therefore perfection) of a fallen creation. Irenaeus, for example, points to the Old Testament to show how God worked intimately throughout history’s unfolding to save creation. Such stories contradict notions of a distant, removed God.[20] According to Santmire, Irenaeus posits that, Christ’s goal, in becoming flesh, was to, “[move] the whole creation decisively toward the goal of fulfilling the original divine intention for the creation,” meaning the perfection and beauty that God originally intended and is still being working out.[21] Thus, “All things are moving toward, are destined for, a final day of salvation or consummation... Everything will be saved. Nothing of the good creation will be lost.”[22] Or as Moltmann puts it, “We shall not be redeemed from this earth… [but] with it… We human beings are earthly creatures, not candidates for angelic status. Nor are we here on a visit to a beautiful star, so as to make our home somewhere else after we die.”[23] Such classical, Christian views stand in stark contrast from theologies teaching that this world is a fallen reality to be transcended and ultimately discarded. Eventually, the disembodied theories of Gnosticism were deemed heretical, in favor of Christianity’s embrace of God’s immanence, or nearness. 

As reflected in the statements of Dr. Land and Dr. Wright, views polarizing the spiritual and the material have once again infiltrated popular Christian thought. Such perspectives can lead people to view this earth and its creatures as disposable, therefore unworthy of protection. This, in turn, perpetuates the exploitation of the earth and its creatures, because it predisposes us to view them as resources, rather than as valuable in and of themselves. To put things more concretely, let us think, for a moment, of a fox. If viewed as a resource or prop for humanity’s continued survival, a fox can be seen as the bearer of a coveted fur or as a villainous pest. Or, from the perspective of a scientist, a fox might be seen as a research subject or as part of a broader eco-system, integral for supporting human life. In all these perspectives, the fox’s value is linked to its usefulness to humans. But when viewed from the perspective voiced above by Augustine and Aquinas (that each creature’s existence is a manifestation of God’s will bringing glory and praise to God), the fox’s life begins to take on new meaning. From this view, the fox’s life and ability to thrive become valuable, in and of itself, because God wills it. Were people to accept such a reality and apply this in their dealings with the world, there would be cause for massive changes.  

At the start of this essay, I set out to evaluate claims made in the film, Resisting the Green Dragon, about humanity’s relationship with its fellow creatures and the earth. By no means have I exhausted this subject, as many things have been left for future exploration, but as the above findings show, many of the film’s points now seem problematic, in light of closer scriptural analysis and scrutiny with regard to the wisdom of orthodox Christian theology. This journey has uncovered some of the underpinning ideological constructs at the heart of today’s ecological crisis exposing the need for a newfound awareness of and care for our earthly neighbors. Much as our outlook has shifted since the time of animal trails, present challenges demand we find new ways of relating to our fellow creatures giving them the consideration they need to live and thrive unhindered by humanity as God intends. We have seen that, to embody the imago dei ideal, a self-sacrificing love for those at the mercy of our doings is in order. We have also learned of the need for an artful and skilled mastery of being human, for if we are to effectively cope with today’s ecological needs, a great amount of study and intentionality will need to be harnessed. Underlying each of these pieces is an understanding of creation as God’s communal, self-willed expression of glory—a reality charging us to become agents working to protect and foster life, rather than stifling or working against it. Such a vision leaves no room for supremacist arguments about human superiority or that portray this earth and its inhabitants as a mere stage with disposable props. Only by dispelling such misguided notions can God’s people live into their sacred callings, found in Genesis, as caretakers of creation. In closing, Derrick Jensen is a poet and philosopher who has given much thought to the paradox that the life of some requires the death of others. While this reality is inescapable, the manner in which these exchanges occur is within our control. According to Jensen, “When you take the life of someone to eat or otherwise use so you can survive, you become responsible for the survival—and dignity—of that other’s community.”[24] Thus, we become indebted to those we consume, by the very nature of God’s ordering. For this reason, the benefit and welfare of all hinges upon humanity’s ability to learn this lesson and transform its ways. God help us.

Bibliography

Dinzelbacher, Peter, “Animal Trials: A Multidiscipliary Approach,” Journal of Interdisciplinary History, XXXII:3 (Winter, 2002), 405-421.

Michael Farris and Janet Parshal, Resisting the Green Dragon, DVD, Burke, Virginia: Cornwall Alliance for the Stewardship of Creation, 2010.

Jeremy Law, “Jurgen Moltmann’s Ecological Hermeneutics,” Ecological Hermeneutics: Biblical, Historical and Theological Perspectives, New York: T and T Clark International, 2010.

Jensen, Derrick, Endgame: The Problem of Civilization, Volume I, New York: Seven Stories Press, 2006.

Moltmann, Jurgen, Science and Wisdom, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2003.

Moltmann, Jurgen, The Source of Life: The Holy Spirit and the Theology of Life, Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997.

Rogerson, John W., “The Creation Stories,” Ecological Hermeneutics: Biblical, Historical and Theological Perspectives, New York: T and T Clark International, 2010.

Santmire, Paul H., The Travail of Nature: The Ambiguous Ecological Promise of Christian Theology, Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1985.

Watson, Francis, “In the Beginning,” Ecological Hermeneutics: Biblical, Historical and Theological Perspectives, New York: T and T Clark International, 2010.

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[1] Dr. Michael Farris and Janet Parshal, Resisting the Green Dragon, DVD, Burke, Virginia: Cornwall Alliance for the Stewardship of Creation, 2010.

[2] Peter Dinzelbacher, “Animal Trials: A Multidiscipliary Approach,” Journal of Interdisciplinary History, XXXII:3 (Winter, 2002), 405-421. http://courses.csusm.edu/hist400ae/culturaltrials.pdf

[3] Wendy Wright, Resisting the Green Dragon, DVD.

[4] Exodus 20:4, NRSV

[5] H. Paul Santmire, The Travail of Nature: The Ambiguous Ecological Promise of Christian Theology, (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1985), 60.

[6] Jurgen Moltmann, Science and Wisdom, (Minneapolis, Fortress Press, 2003), 49-50.

[7] Francis Watson, “In the Beginning,” Ecological Hermeneutics: Biblical, Historical and Theological Perspectives, (New York: T and T Clark International, 2010), 136.

[8] John W. Rogerson, “The Creation Stories,” Ecological Hermeneutics, 22.

[9] Genesis 1:20-25, NRSV

[10] David Barton, Resisting the Green Dragon, DVD.

[11] H. Paul Santmire, The Travail of Nature, 61.

[12] John W. Rogerson, “The Creation Stories,” Ecological Hermeneutics, 23.

[13] Ellen Davis, “Land, Life, and the Poetry of Creation,” On Being (podcast), Produced by American Public Media, hosted by Krista Tipett, (time 25-27 minutes in the program), found at: http://being.publicradio.org/programs/2010/land-life-poetry/

[14] Jurgen Moltmann, Science and Wisdom, 47.

[15] Jeremy Law, “Jurgen Moltmann’s Ecological Hermeneutics,” Ecological Hermeneutics, 229.

[16] Dr. Richard Land, Resisting the Green Dragon, DVD.

[17] Dr. Frank Wright, Resisting the Green Dragon, DVD.

[18] Genesis 9:9-10, NRSV

[19] H. Paul Santmire, The Travail of Nature, 33-35.

[20] Ibid., 35.

[21] H. Paul Santmire, The Travail of Nature, 35.

[22] Ibid., 36-37.

[23] Jurgen Moltmann, The Source of Life: The Holy Spirit and the Theology of Life, (Minneapolis: Fortress, 1997), 74.

[24] Jensen, Derrick, Endgame: The Problem of Civilization, Volume I, (New York: Seven Stories Press, 2006), 138.

Chickens and Holiday Saturninity-- An Advent Meditation for Winter's Solstice

Today marks the last day before the winter solstice-- the shortest day of the year. Symbolically, this time is seen as the sun's 'death'. The three days following this 'death' are marked by an uncertain lingering of the sun at such a diminished level. After three days, on December 25th, daylight will gradually begin to lengthen, marking the sun's return (or resurrection). Etiologically speaking, this occurrence explains the timing of our celebration of Christ's birth-- God's Son. But, while mostly we approach this time with joyful anticipation, for many, this season can be one of painful reminders and dashed hopes. 

In one of today's lectionary readings, Zephaniah 3:14-20, we find an admonition not to let ourselves be consumed with worry or fear. Here, God's people are reminded that the LORD is "in our midst" and that God will rise to protect us. Note that the text reads 'our' and not 'your'-- thus stressing the significance of community. In this passage, we also find imagery of the LORD gathering us up-- words that (as someone who used to keep backyard chickens) remind me of a mother hen with her baby chicks.

In the coming spring, which at this time looms in the distance like a warm glow on the horizon, mother hens will carefully guide their newborn chicks out of the hen house for their first exploratory voyage into the outer world. Each doting mother will guard her offspring with tenderness and, if need be, defiant bravery. As she watches her young stumble out into the yard and begin poking around at their strange new surroundings, she will help them as they learn to scratch and forage. Under their mother's watchful eye, they will learn from older birds and each other how to thrive.

In today's reading, the prophet Zephaniah assures Israel that God will, "renew [them] in his love"-- a claim that is still valid for God's people today. This line particularly grabs me, because, as many of you know, my wife and I have recently had to deal with some hard moments. For me, this was a first-- finally being the one that everyone else rushed in to care for. For a time, we received calls, letters, emails, meals, and other generous gifts. Before now, I had often heard the Church likened to Christ's earthly hands and feet, but it was not until this trial that this imagery really began to take on a new and deeper meaning, for me. Truly, through Christ's body-- the very real and tangible presence of our friends and family-- we were lovingly gathered near to God and set on a path towards renewal. Having learned from others, we now look forward to one day passing on these same blessings to another in need.

Recalling this cycle of loving and learning can be encouraging for anyone approaching the holiday season with an unsettling sense of dread. In times so built up with festive expectation, it is easy to harbor unrealistic dreams of 'what should be,' only to have those hopes quelled by life's sometimes harsh realities. But, we must remember God's words to us in these troubling times-- that, like a mother hen collecting her young, we will be gathered up into God's presence, protected, and renewed in love. But for this healing to occur, we must avail ourselves to community and communion with God.

The dark days may seem to linger and we may begin to doubt the Son's return, but a new light will dawn and we will once again emerge into the newness of spring's vigor. In God's created order, periods of dormancy and decay often precede new life. At the risk of sounding too proscriptive, perhaps passages such as today's remind us that we ought to periodically invite the Holy Spirit to show us things we are clinging to-- lost hopes, bitterness, fears-- that we need to let die. From their absence, and through God's continual work making all things new, life can once again spring forth formed by the richness of a renewed faith.

And finally, for those at peace with this season's tidings, let us find our joy in blessing those who struggle with our solidarity-- for it is often in our presence and generosity that God's loving, support is revealed. For such is our hope-- and on this, our hearts can rest. Amen.

Of Grizzly Bears and Sanctification

As followers of Christ, that which compels us to wrestle and claw our way towards the Divine Mystery hounds us with the resolve of a Grizzly Bear that, upon emerging from its long winter fast and aching with hunger, catches the scent of a vole’s burrow beneath a rotting stump. It is with this compelling force, imparted by God, that our striving is provoked—a process of refinement in pursuit of the Holy. Frequently, we hear this ‘striving’ described as discipleship or spiritual formation, but what exactly do these words mean and how does this process actually transpire? Moreover, what is it that we are pursuing, given today’s context—a world in which scientists predict we may lose one-third of all species on Earth in the next forty years—and how will success be measured in light of this reality?[1] In conversation with Jurgen Moltmann’s book, The Source of Life, these are some of the questions I hope to address below.

Each stream within the broader Christian tradition has favored words and understandings about the task of pursuing Godly lives. For example, Methodists are renowned for their use of the word sanctification, and Baptists for their concepts of justification, while Orthodox Christians employ the term theosis. All of these are meant to convey the notion of one’s journey towards holiness. But to what are we referring when we say the word holy? Moltmann contends that holiness is that which belongs to the sphere of the Divine and is “Wholly Other” from ourselves.” By this he means, “that which fascinates us, holding us spellbound.” The feeling he describes reminds me of a time when I accidentally approached a bear while hiking. There I found myself standing before this incredible beast utterly, helpless and quite aware of my vulnerability. Much like this humbling encounter, the Holy can inspire both terror and awe. These are attributes of that which we call God—the Divine Mystery who solely possesses both perfect harmony and oneness. 

From this, Moltmann concludes that God’s Spirit, which we call the Holy Spirit, works to continually bring harmony and perfection wherever it ventures—thus, the Holy Spirit continually sanctifies whatever it encounters.[2] As beings created by this life-giving Source, we naturally seek a return to that source, which gives rise to our reconciliatory pursuit of sanctification. As we pursue this relationship, through our communal act of following Jesus, our discipleship engages us in the process of sanctification. Here Moltmann makes the observation that sanctification is both harmony with God and a learned ability to encounter things with reverence. As we will discuss further below, in light of today’s ecological problems, this distinction seems rather significant. As God is perceived to be both fully in harmony with God’s Self and simultaneously working to make all things holy, encountering these forces ought to replicate them in our lives. In a world whose environment has been shattered by industrial exploitation and the extraction of resources at unsustainable levels, where the natural realm has been over taxed for too long and has seemingly little left to give, we, as Christ’s disciples, ought to be busy creatively working to halt these harmful patterns and working to restore the earth as God’s House.

Interestingly, when considering the outcome of spiritual formation in today’s context, Moltmann points out that, during the early part of the Twentieth Century, Methodists, and other Christians, busied themselves stamping out vices perceived to be evil, such as alcohol, tobacco, and overly extravagant living. He brings this up to highlight our current ecological crisis as today’s prevailing evil.[3] According to author Derrick Jensen, “Ninety percent of all large fish in the oceans are gone, there are 6-10 times as much plastic as phytoplankton in parts of the sea, and there is dioxin in every mother’s breast milk,” [4] Given this information, Christians, as well as all other people, need to turn their collective attention towards the sanctification of life on this planet. When discussing the fruits of discipleship, Moltmann introduces the term charismata, to signify the various gifts people undergoing sanctification receive. These include things like leadership, proclamation, service, and even healing.[5] For us to stave off further ecological disaster, all of these gifts will be needed.

The urgency of the tasks before this generation cannot be overstated. As activist Dave Foreman frames things, over the next 40 years, our response to today’s unprecedented extinction rates will directly determine whether or not animals, such as grizzly bears and other large mammals, exist for thousands of years to come.[6] Despite such imperative stakes, many Christians tune out messages like this due to beliefs that God will soon rapture ‘true believers’ or other eschatological theories of abandonment. This anticipation influences large numbers of evangelical Christians, many Baptists, Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Seventh Day Adventists, and today’s fastest growing religious sect, Pentecostals. Importantly, Moltmann reminds us that we will not be redeemed, “from this earth…” but, “with it.” He stresses that, “We human beings are earthly creatures, not candidates for angelic status. Nor are we here on a visit to a beautiful star, so as to make our home somewhere else after we die.”[7] Here, his understanding of the Bible’s apocalyptic texts differs from those mentioned above—Moltmann envisions a world fully restored, not one that is ethereal and elsewhere. Thus, our proper response ought to be one of care for creation. Beliefs that we will soon be lifted from this planet can lead to reckless treatment of the environment. Notions that our negligence will not have dire future repercussions can incite dangerous consequences. For these reasons, in recognition of the Spirit’s harmonizing work in all things, our aim should be the restoration of a healthy, wisely-construed balance with the natural order. Ultimately, stemming from the words of Psalm 24:1 that, “The earth is the LORD's and all that is in it…,” reverence for creation should be seen as a natural outgrowth of our participation in God’s work of making all things new. 

Returning to our original question—Asking how we, as Christians, participate in God’s purifying action and what fruits that process brings, our vision of God as Creator and the Source of all life beckons our response of reverence for that which only God can give—life. Our intrinsic quest for unity with that Source then underlies efforts seeking to harmonize our relationship within God’s created order. As Moltmann points out, the gifts and talents imparted to us by God’s Spirit aid us in accomplishing these tasks and evidence our immersion in the process of sanctification. Our present need to for a concerted effort to restore the balance between nature and humanity does not erase our ever-present duty as Christians to spread the Gospel, but, in light of today’s predicament, it does give us a focus. The planet’s wounded state is not only symptomatic of humanity’s failed embodiment of God’s will, it is today’s primary area in need of God’s redemptive healing. Thus, our participation in God’s ever-sanctifying work must include a healing of humanity’s ecological failures.                    

Bibliography

Dave Foreman and Derrick Jensen, Listening to the Land: Conversations about Nature, Culture, and Eros, (White River Junction, Vermont: Chelsea Green Publishing, 2004).

Jurgen Moltmann, Source of Life: The Holy Spirit and the Theology of Life, (Great Britain: Fortress Press,1997).

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[1] Dave Foreman and Derrick Jensen, Listening to the Land, 7.

[2] Jurgen Moltmann, The Source of Life: The Holy Spirit and the Theology of Life, 43-45.

[3] Jurgen Moltmann, The Source of Life: The Holy Spirit and the Theology of Life, 50.

[4] From the Democracy Now interview found at this link: http://www.democracynow.org/2010/11/15/author_and_activist_derrick_jensen_the

[5] Jurgen Moltmann, The Source of Life: The Holy Spirit and the Theology of Life, 55-66.

[6] Dave Foreman and Derrick Jensen, Listening to the Land, 7.

[7] Jurgen Moltmann, The Source of Life: The Holy Spirit and the Theology of Life, 74.

Four Views of God

Here's an interesting article about a recent study that explores the four main views people have in mind when sharing how they conceptualize God. It was passed along to me by one of my professors and I found it quite helpful for understanding other people's conceptions of and relations to the Divine.

http://www.usatoday.com/news/religion/2010-10-07-1Agod07_CV_N.htm

A Beautiful Vision for Creation

Hey friends,

Earlier, I ran across this speech given by the Eastern Orthodox Patriarch Bartholomew on today's ecological crises. I found it refreshing, visionary, and worth your listen. I hope you enjoy it!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8_msl4ach4

Trailside Magnificat

You, chanting in my eardrums, forever driving me forward, upwards and always—round the next bend, are the one who called me to this place.

As this crumbly path of rock rises beneath my feet, world without end, and my nerves are lulled to rest by a continual, gritty churning that processes like the ageless tides, you are here.

You are the taste of water from my canister, the frosty air that fills my lungs; I pull You in and rejoice.

My breath, rising like incense in this alpine air, wafts praises skyward.

The swirl of pinyon pines surrounding me and the bravura of building monsoon clouds in the distance all stand testament to Your presence.


“Christ be with me, Christ within me,
Christ behind me, Christ before me,
Christ beside me, Christ to win me,
Christ to comfort and restore me,
Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,
Christ in hearts of all that love me,
Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.”
-St. Patrick: 372 – 466CE


photo taken near Ouray, Colorado

Continual Worship: Excerpts from Morning Prayer

Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Sabaoth;
Heaven and earth are full of the majesty of thy glory.
The glorious company of the apostles praise thee.
The goodly fellowship of the prophets praise thee.
The noble army of martyrs praise thee.
The holy Church throughout all the world doth acknowledge thee,
the Father, of an infinite majesty,
thine adorable, true, and only Son,
also the Holy Ghost of the Comforter...







Let the earth glorify the Lord,
praise him and highly exalt him for ever.
Glorify the Lord, O mountains and hills,
and all that grows upon the earth,
praise him and highly exalt him for ever.

Glorify the Lord, O springs of water, seas, and streams,
O whales and all that move in the waters.
All birds of the air, glorify the Lord,
praise him and highly exalt him for ever.

Glorify the Lord, O beasts of the wild,
and all you flocks and herds.
O men and women everywhere, glorify the Lord,
praise him and highly exalt him for ever.

On Learning to Mind the Gaps

In today’s post-modern, post-Christian culture, it is common to hear someone describe themselves as spiritual, but not religious. The phrase has become vogue as of late. But have we ever stopped to ask ourselves what this word "spiritual" means? Undoubtedly, people use the word in different ways, so much so that, to many, it has ceased to carry any specificity or relevance. For this reason, my task here will be to grapple with the meaning of the word spiritual in hopes of emerging with some sense of why the idea it seeks to communicate is important. Upon first considering the topic, I was reminded of the research by which many of the scientists at my former job were consumed.

Before coming to seminary, I worked for the McDonald Observatory, one of the world’s foremost astronomical research facilities. Its scientists are amongst the brightest in their field and many of them worked right down the hall from my office. A major focus of today’s research in the field of astrophysics centers on the phenomena called Dark Energy and Dark Matter, two things postulated to exist based upon research of their gravitational effects, but both presently undetectable and un-provable. Scientists’ describe Dark Energy as a mysterious, unseen force propelling the ever-constant expansion of our Universe and Dark Matter as that which fills all the space thought to be empty in the voids between cosmic bodies. They even have come up with mathematical formulas to deduce that 74 percent of the Universe is Dark Energy, 22 percent is Dark Matter, and 3.6 percent is made up of intergalactic gases. This only leaves .4 percent to form everything else known to exist—namely planets, stars, and even ourselves. You would think that, given these rather specific figures, we would have more of a handle on what, if anything, these mysterious substances are, but that knowledge has yet to present itself. I bring all of this up because it provides a convenient illustration for explaining my conceptualization of things spiritual.

Much like the evasive task of pinpointing and defining the above astronomical conundrums, we face same kind of dilemma when trying to describe what we mean by the word spiritual. Surely, the word is laden with much societal and historical baggage. This only serves to further cloud an already murky discussion. For this reason, it might be helpful to first describe what the word spiritual is not. It is often used to connote the opposite of tangible, physical, measurable, and knowable. It functions as a symbolic reference to the mysterious, the miraculous, or the Divine. While some of these things may not be far off, it would be mistaken to define spiritual in such terms as to deny its physicality. After all, at its root, the word spiritual alludes to a greater source—the Great Spirit—from which all things flow and to which all things are connected. In that sense, the word spiritual is more accurately described as that which contains all reality or rather from which all reality proceeds. If one accepts the notion of a Creator or Great Spirit from which all things are generated and sustained, then it follows that all things are permeated by that force or presence which we call spirit. As the theologian Jurgen Moltmann puts it, “[all] created things on earth and in heaven point beyond themselves…” In essence, although we cannot detect this pointing with any of our five senses, somehow, cumulatively perhaps, we pick up traces of reality’s continuation.

When trying to articulate these intimations, we must resort to experiences, stories, and poetry. Each of these provide us with linguistic vehicles that allow our words to carry more meaning than any dry, intellectual portrayal could muster. Once I was driving home from a friend’s house when suddenly my mind was overcome by the very real and instantaneous flash of an image of a car slamming into the side of mine. It was so vivid that it caused me to immediately hit my brakes and drive slower. No sooner than my car had slowed did another car veer into mine. I escaped the collision unharmed, but astounded by my vision-like experience preceding the crash. I bring this story up because it falls outside of the realm of most people’s normal, everyday experience and because it evades easy explanation by orthodox religious views. For me, this instance’s sheer unexplainable nature left me with only spiritual descriptors to fill in the gaps of what had happened.

Much like Dark Matter, our encounters with these gaps, these spaces between the knowable and the unknowable, are what cause us to resort to the language of spirituality. Similar to hypothetical ponderings about Dark Matter, the spiritual is a realm that both fills the voids between the known and connects those things between which it spans. As such, the spiritual can be thought of as a conduit, for it both connects all things to one another and to their ultimate Source. It is my belief that this connection can only be proven by the individual experiences one gathers in a lifetime. Years ago, I remember encountering this connectedness when volunteering at a hospice facility established by Mother Teresa in Kolkata, India. I had been asked to cut the fingernails of all the male patients in my ward. This task required me to get up close and personal with each of the men staying there. While making my rounds, I came to a patient about my age that had been crippled and horribly disfigured by leprosy. Although we could not speak to one another, his eyes told me of his pain and frustration—they revealed his aching desire to be normal and healthy. He wanted to work, to perhaps marry and have children, and certainly to be loved by others. Instead he found himself forgotten about and languishing in a clinic for the destitute and dying. What’s more—we both recognized the random, unfairness of the disparity between us. We both knew that my health, the wealth that enabled me to travel around the world to meet him, and my quickly approaching trip home and return to my normal life were all gifts that had been bestowed upon me arbitrarily. But when I think back on that experience I recognize that, in the space between our eyes, there was something there—a mutual sharing between us that both connected us then and still connects us today. That something, that presence which facilitated that sharing, bestowed upon me a changed heart and a new lens through which I now view life. Because of the indelible memory that encounter left, I have no doubt of my continued connection with that man who lives half way around the world. And that connection, even if only relevant because of the awareness it whispered into my life, now functions more as a conduit than a barrier. But if we speak of that which is called spiritual as an awareness of our mutual connectivity—even perhaps that which fuses us to the ultimate Reality—what can be said of its significance to our lives?

The full quote of the Moltmann passage I shared earlier reads:

“Every human being is born with a hunger for God in the soul. Our whole nature is longing, desire, craving. People are never sufficient for themselves. They always thrust beyond themselves. Nothing in the created world can still the hunger for God in their souls. With their longing for God, people overtax created things and destroy their finite, fragile and transitory beauty. But all these other created things on earth and in heaven point beyond themselves to the infinite Creator, and lead the endless hunger of the soul to the infinite, which alone can satisfy it.”

Here Moltmann suggests that our spiritual instincts are innately ingrained. As spiritual beings, we are driven to seek out a fullness and satisfaction that only the infinite Source can quench. To some, this lovely, poetic portrayal of life’s condition might seem quaint, but unrealistic. My guess is that if we search our memories, allowing our intuition to guide us, we will discover the resonating truth Moltmann speaks of. But again, why does any of this matter? Many people know of the great 19th century outdoorsman and philosopher John Muir’s rapturous passion for wilderness and his valiant efforts as one of the first great naturalists that earned him the title, “Father of the National Parks,” but my guess is that not many have stopped to consider what separates their own experience of nature from his. I would argue that the key distinction lies in his perspective. When viewing a valley, a forest, or a mountain John Muir didn’t see resources to be utilized or even a charming picturesque backdrop, he saw grandiose cathedrals of intricate beauty all crafted by the loving hands divinely, artistic Creator. Surely, we can surmise that, when walking down a forest trail, the awe he recounts in many of his writings filled his heart with joy and thankfulness. All of this, because of his refined sense of awareness. It is this same transformed perspective that familiarity with the spiritual plain makes possible. We too can enjoy this grace if we allow ourselves to come alive to the Spirit which permeates, sustains, and joins together all things. Moltmann describes this paradigm shift as, “the rebirth of the full and undivided love of life” and “the total Yes to life.” This newfound vantage requires of us a complete redefinition both of our relationship to the Creator and the rest of creation. It is from this starting point that our own rapturous joy can begin unfolding.

Our conclusion then is that the word spiritual, or rather the concept it seeks to denote, can be viewed as both a language and a vehicle. It enables us to probe the gaps where our rational, measurable knowledge drops away. Thus, as Dark Matter is to the seemingly empty space between planets in our Universe, so the spiritual realm is between that which we can definitely know and that which remains a mystery. Similarly, as the force of Dark Energy acts upon bodies traveling through space, we too are impacted by Divine unseen forces. For as long as people come together to share in each other’s stories, we will always have to sometimes resort to spiritual language to fill in the gaps. Furthermore, people will always find and retain connections with each other through the connectivity of spirit. All of this matters because, as Moltmann points out, it is through our awakening to this reality and our relationship with the Divine Spirit that we can be truly fulfilled. That, after all, is consistent with our created nature, whether we choose to acknowledge this or not. But, it is only from this place, a grounding relationship with God, that our hunger can be satiated. This alone releases us to turn our attention towards blessing others. Like John Muir, whose work was propelled his abundant, radiating sense of fullness, we too, through our own nourished spirits, can come alive to the work God has for us, but this transformation can only occur when we, by God’s grace and guidance, embody God’s empowering Spirit.

Grace for a season

Yesterday evening, Meredith and I had the joy of taking a walk in the finally cool autumn air. As if being outside in that weather wasn't already gift enough, we went scouting for fallen pecans in the parks near our house. I had gotten the idea from an elderly couple that I spotted doing the same during my morning jog. After all, a wealth of experience can be gleaned from observing one's elders, right? I can't tell you how fun it was to fill a bag full of free, delicious, and healthy food from right around my neighborhood! A free walk in the park and free reminders of God's loving provision for us. I like to think that, by the very measure of our delight, these small acts of thanksgiving are somehow rendered as sacramental. Surely, this event will now have to be a part of my perennial plans. Cheers!

Negotiating the Already with the Not Yet

In the theologian Jurgen Moltmann’s book, The Source of Life, he says that, “Every beginning reaches forward to its completion.” He makes this comment while discussing Christianity’s anticipatory, waiting for the coming of God’s Kingdom. When I read this earlier I was captivated by its beautiful simplicity. His thought sent my mind on one of its frequent detours where I began thinking about the intersection of our intentions and what we as humans both create and become. With much of theology these days turning its attention towards seeing ourselves as co-creators who work alongside God—a natural extension of the idea of being the hands and feet of Christ—it makes sense to stop and give deliberate thought to that which we are creating as a society. After all, shouldn’t we want to know that the things we put our efforts into are good?

A profound, yet common way of understanding ourselves as part of God’s creation tells us that we can bring God joy by fully living into and becoming that which we were made to be. By this I mean that if God gifts a person in a particular way or gives someone a certain interest, then God intentionally willed this by design. Thus, to live a life pleasing to God, one needs to meticulously cultivate that peculiar facet of him/herself which God has preordained. Of course, this is just my over-simplified version of this concept, but I bring it up because I like where it leads. Following this logic, we see that God sanctions the further exploration and cultivation of our natural talents and abilities. And who could want to argue with that?

Moltmann’s above thought inspires me because it highlights our agency in becoming the person we one day hope to be. On a personal level, it connects the “where I want to be” with the “who I am right now,” which I find exciting. This connection is vitally significant because a life spent in delayed fulfillment is a life never fully lived. As a person with dreams of what I one day crave to create and be a part of, I can find hope that in my very dreaming those acts have already begun formation. Plus, this understanding teaches us to look ahead and anticipate the outcomes of our trajectories. As people responsible for how the world will continue to unfold, it is our duty to approach the future with wide and attentive eyes. Will the world we one day leave behind be a toxic waste dump or will we see the errors of our current societal path and change our course? With regards to how we relate with others, will our response to today’s unprecedented experience of instantaneous global communication be one of isolationism and protectionism or will we learn to revel in our commonly held humanity? Will we learn to share the best of what our cultures have learned with one another? Or, if we put aside those notions momentarily, why not ask why we as God's children often require the immanent threat of some serious repercussion to convince ourselves from heading down paths of known destructive negligence? Why do we not instinctively choose to do the merciful, generous, or even courageous thing at every juncture? After all, if Moltmann's claim that, “Every beginning reaches forward to its completion” is true, then whatever we are already ambling towards is ultimately, already our final destination.