July 16, 2006 Des Moines

Text:  Psalm 24

 

Prayers of the People

God of hot wind and cooling rain, of purple mountain and deep blue sea, of yellow corn and people of myriad color, we give you thanks for the wonder of your creation.  We give you thanks for the marvel of all we have come to understand, and the mystery of all we haven’t.  We give you thanks for leisure and refreshment, for good work and satisfying labor that earns a life, whether or not it earns a living.  We give you thanks for both the solitude in which to reflect, and the community in which to share; for possibility and also responsibility. 

We pray for this planet, and all that thrives upon it.  Inspire, we pray, our care of it, our reverence for it, and our dependence on it, that among its leaves and waves and breezes and heartbeats we may know ourselves to be in your own presence, O God our creator, sustainer, savior and friend.  Amen.

 

 

“…and All That is in It”

 

We found an albatross egg.  It had been abandoned, on the Island of Española, in the Galapagos archipelago, not out of abundance or disregard, but rather simple logistical despair.  Albatross eggs, it turns out, have to be rolled.  The embryo needs to remain in the center of the egg, relatively speaking, and left alone will sink to the bottom of the egg and die.  The father, then, accepts responsibility for rolling the egg along the ground to prevent just such an end – until, alas, such time as the egg gets stuck in a crevice from which the attentive Dad cannot extricate it.  Such was the state of the egg in our view. 

I suppose we felt some momentary grief for the embryonic bird life that now was not to be, but what struck us most forcefully was the intricate and elaborate care required to bring any of its kind to full-term.  There are, after all, crevices everywhere.  There seemed to us more opportunities for hazard than hope.  And yet this lava rock-of-an-island protruding from the Pacific Ocean was literally fluttering with the birds.  The fact is – and despite all the considerable odds against them – the albatross succeeds.

          I thought about that marvel almost every day we were among these enchanted islands that number 13 or 19 or 69, depending on how large of a mass you want to count, protruding from the Pacific Ocean some 600 miles west of and belonging to the country of Ecuador.  Although there are a few communities populating a handful of the islands, over 90% of the area is designated Ecuadorian National Park with 0% allowed development.  Highly protected in recent decades, the islands have been the fascination of Charles Darwin, the haven of pirates, the laboratory of scientists, and more importantly a home to several endemic species of critters and creations that exist nowhere else on the planet. 

I thought often, while we were there, about the marvel of life – not simply the wonder of Albatross life, but of sea lions, marine iguanas as well as their more land-bound relatives; green sea turtles and giant land tortoises; blue-footed boobies, flightless cormorants and magnificent frigates – each with a fascinatingly intricate story of its own.

Take that latter variety as another example.  Something of an “avian pirate,” the frigate is a lousy hunter.  It can fish, but its feathers don’t shed water so it can’t survive a dive.  The best it can do is pick off the occasional surfacing fish.  Its real bread and butter, however, is stealing.  The blue-footed boobie, it turns out, is an incredible fishing machine.  Flying high over the water, it dives like a rocket to depths of 30 feet to catch the fish it has targeted.  The frigate has learned to hover nearby.  Seeing the boobie surface in success, the frigate swoops in, sticks its long bill down the boobie’s laden throat and steals whatever it has caught.  If the boobies mind, they seem to tolerate the hijacking which seems to do them no physical harm.  And they apparently catch enough to keep both species alive.  Fascinating!

          I know cattle and dogs and cats and mice; I know chickens and pigeons and sparrows and crows; I know catfish and bass and gators and gars, but I had not met flightless cormorants or Nazca Boobies or marine iguanas, palo santo trees or golden cownose rays.  I had never followed the path of a vermillion fly-catcher or watched a red sea crab jet saltwater from its – what? – nose.  I had never yielded the path to a giant land tortoise or chatted amiably with a sea lion or comprehended the disastrous consequences of a feral goat or cat or a blackberry bush artificially introduced and then forgotten.  

But there it is:  a world of species and sub-species, growing, and balanced, adapting and surviving until something interrupts the design.  It is, we observed, a fragile and intricate web of inter-dependence – unique in its particularities, but not in its basic equations.  A similar web connects life all over the world, even if, in parts like ours, it’s more difficult to see.  Land and sea.  Flora and fauna.  Humans and the whole.  And the starting place for comprehending it – let alone “experiencing it” – at least according to scripture, is God. 

The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it,

 the world, and those who live in it;

for he has founded it on the seas, and established it on the rivers.

“The world, and all that is in it.”  The environment has returned to the news in recent months as gasoline prices have geysered and renewed concern about global energy supplies; as devastating storms have called attention to land use and development; and as scientists and politicians alike have increased the volume on concerns about global warming.  Ethanol has become a buzzword; water quality is on the public mind; “green” is “in.”  Evidence the cover story of this week’s Newsweek which mused, “From Politics to Lifestyle, why saving the environment is suddenly hot.”  The subsequent article talked about commercial buildings being designed to catch rain water for use, with scraps harvested from the cafeteria to be fermented elsewhere in the building methane as a supplementary fuel for generators that partially power the building. 

And if practicalities are driving the attention – comfort, cost of living, recreation and expanded markets – at least the subject is on our minds.  But however compelling may be the utilitarian arguments for managing natural resources and protecting our future, it is the theological argument that ought to first claim our attention.  The earth, scripture persistently reminds us, is not ours to plunder, but God’s for us to tend.  That’s the message of the creation story in Genesis – that as stewards, we serve as something like functional stand-ins – emissaries, if you will – representing, advancing, indeed protecting the interests of the God who entrusted them to us. 

If Christians need any more forceful clarity about how such stewardship should proceed, we only have to note that the “dominion” we are given over the earth in Genesis is a word that shares the same root as the word for “Lord.”   Given Jesus’ example of “Lordship” over us, we needn’t feel confused about the kind of Lordship God might have intended us to exercise over the earth.

But we have often gotten it wrong.  We have often forgotten that we, too, are a part of that same creation.  Prominent in Christian history is the view that the natural world exists simply to fulfill human needs – that not only are we allowed by God to use nature as we see fit, plundering it, exhausting it, disposing of it; we are expected to.   Nature’s value, in other words, is its utility. 

But such a view, even while holding it philosophically, has never finally satisfied us emotionally or spiritually.  On the very first page of Herman Melville’s classic, Moby Dick, the character named Ishmael observes how every Sunday afternoon scores of city folk who live inland – people he refers to as “water-gazers” – gather to stare at the ocean.  “They must get just as nigh the water as they possibly can without falling.  And there they stand.  Say you are in the country; in some high land of lakes.  Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream.  There is magic in it….  Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded forever.” [1]

Water and, most of would eventually add, mountains and forests and deserts and fields.  Nature has always been for us more than its tangibles and consumables.  Time and again we have stumbled unexpectedly upon bushes or into meadows or onto summits that we later realized to be “holy ground” – the very gates of heaven – and have known life renewed.  And we have known its opposite, as well, when concrete and glass and carpet and steel have begun to suffocate us. 

Among the Greek stories of Hercules is one about his encounter with Antaeus, one of the giant offspring of Mother Earth, who always slept on the bare ground in order to conserve and increase his already colossal strength.  Whenever he touched the earth, his strength revived.  Hercules, in a wrestling match with the giant, noticed that every time he got the best of him and threw him to the ground, the giant’s muscles swelled and a healthy flush suffused his limbs as Mother Earth revived him.  So Hercules threw him down no more but held him high in the air, cracking his ribs one by one until he died.” [2]

          When we lose our grounding – when we lose our connection with soil and water and leaf and wind; when we forget our relation to feather and fin and hoof and paw – we wither, like Antaeus, into impotence.

The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it…

          And the ones who find there way to heaven, if I might paraphrase the psalmist, are the ones who finally “get it” – who look around themselves at the people they touch, the flowers they tend and the fauna they foster; at the air they breathe and the water they drink and the soil they plow and almost speechlessly name it “holy; God’s precious own.”

          The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it – boobies and frigates and fools and friends;

-- all that is in it. 

And heaven is the gift to those whose spirit-eyes can see it.



[1] Herman Melville, Moby-Dick (New York:  W.W. Norton and Co., 1976) pp. 3,4.

[2] As quoted in Five Smooth Stones for Pastoral Work by Eugene Peterson, p. 6