Disciple: The Theology of Creation Care

By the Rt. Rev. Jennifer Brooke-Davidson

On behalf of the Rt. Rev. Sam Rodman, who is on sabbatical as this is written, and myself: Greetings, beloved, in the name of God the Creator, God the Redeemer, God the Teacher.

I believe in God the Father, the maker of heaven and earth. (The Apostle’s Creed and Baptismal Covenant)

Of all the great opening lines in all the literature of the world, the most well-known would have to be: “In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” Genesis begins with two very different accounts of creation. One is framed as six days: creating light; separating water, sky and land; setting the sun, moon and stars in the sky, and bringing forth life, culminating in human life (plus a day of rest).

I bind unto myself today the virtues of the starlit heav’n, the glorious sun’s life-giving ray, the whiteness of the moon at even, the flashing of the lightning free, the whirling wind’s tempestuous shocks, the stable earth, the deep salt sea, around the old eternal rocks. (St. Patrick’s Breastplate, Hymn 370)

The other account begins in a featureless wasteland. Humans are created first, and then a beautiful garden for us to inhabit and rule—that is, to tend.

All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things wise and wonderful: the Lord God made them all. Each little flower that opens, each little bird that sings—God made their glowing colors and made their tiny wings. The cold wind in the winter; the pleasant summer sun; the ripe fruits in the garden: God made them every one. (All Things Bright and Beautiful, Hymn 405)

Right away, we humans decided that we could make our own decisions, apart from God. We wanted ALL the fruit in God’s garden. And with the fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, what could go wrong? It did not take long for us to twist the meaning of “rule” in God’s world. It ceased to mean “keep in order, guard, steward,” and, as we continued to forget who we are and whose we are, “dominion” became “domination.” “Exploiting resources” became, for many cultures, not only a norm but a goal.

From the primal elements you brought forth the human race, and blessed us with memory, reason, and skill. You made us the rulers of creation. But we turned against you and betrayed your trust; and we turned against one another. Have mercy, Lord, for we are sinners in your sight. (Eucharist Prayer C)

Memory, reason and skill gave us technologies that supported civilizations that produced arts and letters, medicine and music, air conditioning and mosquito repellant. Carried aloft on the updrafts of our hubris, we sometimes lost our grounding. Outside of Eden, we acted as if we had made it all ourselves, as if we could manipulate the earth any way we chose, without consequence. We were smart, but we were not wise.

Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind: “Who is this that darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up your loins like an adult; I will question you, and you shall declare to me.

“Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements—surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?” (Job 38:1-7)

We humans flew to the moon, but we decimated the matrix of the rainforests. We replaced prairies with dust bowls. We ripped the earth open to extract its riches and left it gaping or filled with toxins. We clogged the seas with trash and set the rivers afire. We thought our plunder could go on forever, that there would always be more. We felt entitled to whatever we wanted, and we were no longer grateful.

“Have you entered into the springs of the sea or walked in the recesses of the deep? Have you comprehended the expanse of the earth? Declare, if you know all this. Where is the way to the dwelling of light, and where is the place of darkness, that you may take it to its territory and that you may discern the paths to its home? Surely you know, for you were born then, and the number of your days is great!” (Job 38:16-21)

We thought we were masters of the universe—we would advance by force of will, full speed ahead, damn the torpedoes. When it comes to nature, though, we have found that it is impossible to break the law(s)—we can only break ourselves against the law. We are coming to terms with our foolishness and God’s wisdom.

Then Job answered the Lord: “I know that you can do all things and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. ‘Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?’ Therefore I have uttered what I did not understand, things too wonderful for me that I did not know. ‘Hear, and I will speak; I will question you, and you declare to me.’ I had heard of you by the hearing of the ear, but now my eye sees you.” (Job 42:1-5)

Of course, I have been speaking about humanity collectively and not about any individuals. The words may sound harsh. Many of us, maybe most of us, were oblivious for a long time. But now we are learning. Now we see. Now it is upon us all to reclaim our general and collective role as stewards of God’s astounding abundance. “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”

“Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?”
“I renounce them.”

“Whenever you forget who you are and whose you are, will you turn yourself around and come back to God?”
“I will, with God’s help.” (Baptismal Covenant)

There are a lot of ways to talk about how we relate to the earth, to nature, to creation. We might speak about conservation, or environmentalism, or ecology. But at the heart of it all, this is not about politics, or sociology, or even about science. The crisis we find ourselves in is about theology.

God made this beautiful, expansive, abundant world and invited us to delight in it and cherish it as God does. In the language of earlier times, God is the sovereign, and we are the stewards. We bear the image of God, but we are not gods. We are guardians who can choose to become more and more like the Creator or more and more like the adversary.

Here’s good news: God is a god of forgiveness, new beginnings and resurrection. God does not “tear the world apart and boil the oceans.” God is always making things new. Our scientists tell us that it is not too late to mend our ways. The earth is not indestructible, but it is resilient. God’s abundance and love are beyond our knowing. “I am resurrection, and I am life,” our Lord said to us.

How many are your works, Lord! In wisdom you made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. When you send your Spirit, they are created, and you renew the face of the earth. May the glory of the Lord endure forever; may the Lord rejoice in his works. (Psalm 104)

After fires, after floods, after drought, the earth heals and renews itself. Created “a little lower than the angels,” we share in God’s creative, healing power.

El Señor cada día nos sorprende, para que vivamos enamorados de su creación, cada día y cada lugar es magico. (The Rev. Ricardo Medina)

As we move into a season of attention to God’s creation, may you see the vision of humanity living in a peaceable kingdom, a place of God’s own dreaming.

They will neither harm nor destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea. (Isaiah 11:9)

May God, who made you and the earth and all that is in it, who loves the earth and all that is in it, who died for you and for the earth and all that is in it, bless you from his holy mountain, from the great river to the sea, from your birthplace to your grave, and on the last day may he raise you to the earth renewed as the dwelling place of heaven.

Faithfully,
Bishop Jennifer

The Rt. Rev. Jennifer Brooke-Davidson is the assistant bishop of the Diocese of North Carolina.