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.

---

[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.

Where Did You Come From?

For a class I have been sitting in one spot for twenty minutes each week-- my only task, to observe the world around me and journal if I feel so led. Today was fruitful and inspiring, because of the wildlife I spotted. Not long after I arrived, I saw the flash of a small brightly colored bird dart past me. I thought perhaps it might be one of those parakeets often seen hanging around Austin during the summers. 

In the meantime, I watched two young squirrels playing/foraging on a branch near a now abandoned squirrel nest. Were they returning to what was once their nursery only weeks ago? 

Moments later the brightly colored bird returned, swooping in to pose for me—it was a Yellow Warbler. It’s entire body was a luminesant, yellow-golden color. I guess you never know who will stop by!

This reminds me of an entry by Derrick Jensen that I reread recently. He was comparing our society's treatment of the natural world to that of an abusive spouse—supposedly one trait they often exhibit is a quickly starting romance and a nearly immediate demand for commitment. Jensen paralleled this with how little we often know about a place before we go in and start destroying it in search of mineable resources (think mountain top removal and forest clear-cuts). 

This came to mind because I have watched from this place since February and only today sighted this small bird. Did he just stop by on his way elsewhere? Has he been around and thus far gone unnoticed? Certainly, had I only visited this site once before, perhaps to survey it for resources, I wouldn’t have known it to be part of this creature’s habitat. 

What else might we not know and how should that shape our handling of this fragile, yet endlessly surprising gift we call home?     

A Prayer for Our Fellow Creatures

At present, I am reading a book called Dominion, by a former speech writer for President George W. Bush, in which the author, Matthew Scully, makes the case that our society needs to reform its treatment of animals. In it, I found this amazing prayer: 

"Holy God, enlarge within us the sense of fellowship with all living things, our brothers the animals to whom Thou gavest the earth in common with us. We remember with shame that in the past we have exercised the high dominion of man with ruthless cruelty so that the voice of the earth, which should have gone up to thee in song, has been a groan of travail."  

-- Saint Basil, bishop of Caesarea (375 CE)

A Quote from "The Greening of Faith"

"We have lost our sense of being rooted in a deeper and more encompassing natural order of reality...  Religious consciousness and perspective... may be indispensable in ameliorating our present situation by helping us to integrate ourselves in a wider (and surely wiser) natural reality... a love of the earth that human beings once felt strongly, but that has been thinned and demeaned."

Gratitude, Remembrance, and Survival: In Search of a Deuteronomic Land Ethic

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, 5^th 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.

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[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, 5^th 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.