This is the talk/speech/presentation I gave (not a sermon, and also about twice as long as I usually preach!) at today's Community Lenten Lunch hosted by the Connellsville Area Ministerial Association.
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Something exciting about this year, 2020, is that it marks the 50th anniversary of Earth Day. Observed on April 22 of each year, Earth Day began in 1970, in part as a response to the January 1969 oil spill off the coast of Santa Barbara, California. More than three million gallons of spilled oil resulted in the death of over 10,000 seabirds, dolphins, seals, and sea lions, and spurred activists to raise awareness through environmental regulation and education. Celebration of this day has expanded over the years with events such as rallies, cleanup efforts, and educational events held in more than 193 countries.
In recent years, issues of environmental care and climate change have risen to the forefront of political and social discourse across the globe. Devastating fires and deadly storms, rising temperatures and melting glaciers, and troubling patterns of near-extinction for bees and many other species have led scores of scientists, and environmental activists of all ages, to sound the alarm.
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| Photo by The New York Public Library on Unsplash |
While it may seem that issues surrounding the environment and climate are better left to scientists, my goal today is to demonstrate why we as people of faith bear a particular call to care for creation, and to share how that call might be lived out as individuals and congregations.
As Christians, the Bible is the source and norm of our faith and life. The Bible tells us the story of God, and the story of salvation history – God’s love for us and for all creation. The Bible tells stories of human sinfulness and our need for God’s grace. Even thousands of years after these stories were written, we see ourselves in them still. As we read them, we are reminded of where we come from even as we look for guidance and direction for our life now.
From God’s instructions in Genesis and the creation-focused poetry of the Psalms to Jesus’ emphasis on the command to love our neighbor and the imagery from Revelation of the tree whose leaves are for the healing of the nations, Scripture is full of an ethic of appreciation and care for all that God has made.
At the beginning of Genesis, we hear two accounts of creation. In the first, God speaks creation into being. “Let there be light”; “Let there be a dome in the sky”; “Let the earth put forth vegetation”; and so on. God is a God of order and power, drawing forth everything from nothing and calling it good. On the sixth day, God creates humans. Made in God’s own image, humans are instructed to “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.”
For some Christians, the blessing from God to “have dominion” has been understood as a license to exploit creation - using it as we see fit, for our own benefit, with no regard for the wider consequences and no sense of its inherent value and worth. Dominion, though, is better heard not as license for domination, but rather as a mantle of responsibility. God has called creation “good”, and humans are invited to echo that sentiment, praising the creator through our care of the creation.
In the second creation account, God is a gardener, coaxing life from the soil. The human is shaped and formed by God’s hands, brought to life by God’s breath. Placed in a paradise, a garden, the human is given instructions to till it and keep it. The man is a caretaker, working in partnership with God, with animals, and with the woman to serve the earth and all that God has made.
Though disobedience and sin result in the humans’ expulsion from the garden, they still dwell in the created world. Humans are still called to be stewards and caretakers of creation, and of the vulnerable and voiceless in our midst.
The laws that are put in place to govern God’s people and shape their relationships demonstrate God’s care for all of creation, not just humans. One example of this can be found around the instructions about the sabbath as described in the ten commandments in Deuteronomy 5, and the sabbatical year in Leviticus 25.
Just as God rested on the seventh day of creation, so too is creation given the blessing of sabbath rest. In Deuteronomy 5, Moses recites God’s words: “Observe the sabbath day and keep it holy, as the Lord your God commanded you. Six days you shall labor and do all your work. But the seventh day is a sabbath to the Lord your God; you shall not do any work--you, or your son or your daughter, or your male or female slave, or your ox or your donkey, or any of your livestock…” Yes, even livestock are included in the command for sabbath rest!
In Leviticus 25, we hear instructions for the broader sabbatical cycle. Just as the seventh day is a day of rest for humans and animals, the seventh year is reserved for the sabbath rest of the land. “When you enter the land that I am giving you, the land shall observe a sabbath for the Lord. Six years you shall sow your field, and six years you shall prune your vineyard, and gather in their yield; but in the seventh year there shall be a sabbath of complete rest for the land, a sabbath for the Lord: you shall not sow your field or prune your vineyard. You shall not reap the aftergrowth of your harvest or gather the grapes of your unpruned vine: it shall be a year of complete rest for the land.”
Rest and renewal of people, animals, and the land are critical for our individual and collective well-being. In hearing these sabbath instructions, we are mindful of the delicate balance of creation. We are all interconnected, in ways known and unknown, and the effects of our actions and choices reach far beyond ourselves. While these laws have practical implications for health and agricultural practices, elsewhere in Scripture we hear expressions of delight about creation. Creation holds inherent value and worth because of the creator; we are not valued simply for our usefulness or level of productivity.
The beauty of nature holds a special connection to God for many people. People of faith, and even those who deem themselves “spiritual but not religious”, often express that nature is the place they feel most connected to God.
Others share that the intricacies of plant and animal life point to the presence of a powerful creator. Indeed, as Psalm 19:1 declares, “The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.”
In honor of the creator, all of creation is called upon to praise God: As Psalm 148 recounts, “Praise him, sun and moon; praise him, all you shining stars! … Praise the Lord from the earth, you sea monsters and all deeps, fire and hail, snow and frost, stormy wind fulfilling his command! Mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars! Wild animals and all cattle, creeping things and all flying birds! Kings of the earth and all peoples, princes and all rulers of the earth! Young men and women alike, old and young together!”
Glowing sunsets, majestic mountains, bright fields of wildflowers, crashing waves – their beauty, serenity, wildness, and sheer enormity can bring to mind reflections similar to the words of Psalm 8 – “When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars that you have established; what are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?”
Humans are so small in relation to the vastness of the cosmos, and yet it is humans who were created in God’s own image. Humans are so small in relation to the vastness of the cosmos, and yet our actions can and do have devastating effects on the rest of creation. Knowing that “the earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it” (Psalm 24:1), our selfishness and waste of the world around us reflect, at the very least, a lack of honor and praise for the creator, and, more fully, are an expression of our sinfulness.
Sin is anything that disrupts our relationship with God, with creation, and with one another. St. Augustine, and later Martin Luther, described sin as being curved in our ourselves. In such a posture, we are so consumed by our own perceived wants and needs that we are unable to see the needs of others. In such a posture, we bend the best gifts of God towards ourselves, using them only for our own sake.
It is clear that our choices and actions and lack of action have far-reaching effects. This is true in general, and about creation in particular. The results of choices we make to save a few minutes of time or for the sake of convenience linger long after we are gone.
It is also true that marginalized communities, particularly the poor, women, and people of color, are disproportionately affected by climate change. When coastal areas are flooded and uninhabitable because of increasingly powerful storms, the wealthy will move elsewhere and the poor will be stuck. When global food supplies are disrupted because of harsh temperatures, droughts, and shorter growing seasons, by and large white Americans are not the ones who suffer and starve. This is sinful. This does not reflect love or care for our neighbors, who are equally beloved by God. So - what then shall we do?
In our Lutheran Ash Wednesday liturgy, we share an extended period of corporate confession, which includes the following pieces, among others: “Our self-indulgent appetites and ways, and our exploitation of other people, we confess to you. Have mercy on us, O God. Our neglect of human need and suffering, and our indifference to injustice and cruelty, we confess to you. Have mercy on us, O God. Our waste and pollution of your creation, and our lack of concern for those who come after us, we confess to you. Have mercy on us, O God.”
We are called to care for creation, to care for our neighbors, and to care about what happens after we are gone. These are big, challenging issues, but we are blessed to live in time where discussions about alternate choices are increasingly part of our wider conversation. We have lots of resources that help us be mindful of our carbon footprint, and many simple swaps we can make to be more intentionally “green”. The ability to make these changes is a luxury, yes, and the sheer size and scope of the issues can leave us despairing. It often seems easier to close our eyes and block our ears, to curve in on ourselves and do only what is best for us.
But the earth is our home, too. It’s the only one we have, and it was created with joy and delight and called good by our loving God. What’s best for creation is what’s best for us in the long run.
Last year for Lent the Southwestern Pennsylvania Synod of the ELCA - the regional body of the denomination to which I belong - suggested a creation-focused challenge for Lent: fasting from single-use plastics. For each week of Lent, we were encouraged to make changes to our consumption of plastics, swapping single-use for reusable or going without.
In 2016, world plastics production totaled around 335 million metric tons, about half of which was single-use plastics. These items, such as plastic water bottles, grocery bags, food packaging, and straws, are meant to be used once and discarded. While some plastics can be recycled, this is increasingly difficult to do. In the past, much of our recyclable waste had been exported to China, but new restrictions mean that much of those items are instead sent to landfills or end up clogging the world’s oceans and waterways.
As part of this Lenten discipline, members of the congregation were encouraged to make personal changes, but we also made changes as a congregation. At our annual Shrove Tuesday Pancake Dinner, which is hosted by our Confirmation students and their families, we opted to use ceramic plates and metal flatware rather than styrofoam and plastic. It required extra time and effort to wash those dishes, but the students shared the burden of the work.
In worship, we had been using individual plastic cups for communion, which were thrown away after one use. Encouraged by this challenge, we searched the cabinets and found the old glass versions and used those instead, washing and drying them after worship each Sunday, a practice which has continued. Spurred on by the availability of a rebate, we swapped our incandescent light bulbs for brighter and more efficient LED bulbs.
One of the benefits of making these changes as part of a community is that we can hold each other accountable. We can share ideas for simple swaps - metal straws to replace plastic, cloth napkins instead of paper, cloth grocery bags rather than plastic, reusable containers instead of ziploc bags and saran wrap. We can encourage one another to spend a little more time and effort, and share the burden to make up for the loss of convenience. We can make choices with intention and communicate why we have done so.
I’ve heard it said that it will not be one person changing everything about their consumption that will make a difference. Instead, what we need to make an impact are lots of people making even a few small changes. In addition to these small changes, we can use our voices and our votes and our purchasing power to call for change on a larger scale.
How might we ensure that creation care is at the forefront of our discourse? How might we communicate this value beyond our own households? How might we call on companies to forgo a bit of profit in order to ensure more sustainable growing and manufacturing practices, packaging, and transportation? How might we more fully experience and appreciate the wonder and beauty of the earth together, and practice love of both neighbor and neighborhood?
We are connected to one another, and to all of creation. When we care for the earth, we are caring for all that God has made, all that God has called good. God delights in and cares for all of creation – what joy there is when we do, too!
Sing – For the Beauty of the Earth
Let us pray: Almighty God, in giving us dominion over things on earth, you made us coworkers in your creation. Give us wisdom and reverence to use the resources of nature so that no one may suffer from our abuse of them, and that generations yet to come may continue to praise you for your bounty; through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (from ELW).
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