I am both delighted and daunted by our conversation this
evening, so I want to begin with a disclaimer. I have absolutely no credentials
which give me the right to speak to you tonight on either Creation Care or Fire.
While I have a deep affection for St. Francis, I am not an environmentalist or
scholarly theologian. My theological perspective does not come from the Academy;
neither am I a fire fighter or a park ranger.
I know that fire burns and fire can destroy. One of the
first things I learned as a toddler about cause and effect was for one of my
parents to point to the stove and say, “Hot!” The frown on their faces while
simultaneously pulling away their finger or hand from the stove led me to
understand that “HOT” was not a good thing.
When I was old enough to hold more complex thoughts in my
brain, I later learned is that ‘hot’ or ‘fire’ is not a good thing if used
improperly. The stove was, in fact, “hot” because it was doing something good –
cooking food, washing the dishes, making water a more comfortable temperature
for bathing, boiling water to kill bacteria, warming the house.
When I was even older, I understood this idea of the holding
of completely different facts as truth was called “paradox”. Fire can hurt and fire can help. It’s but one
of the many paradoxes which the earth holds deep in the mystery of its center. More
on this later.
So, what I am – or like to think I am – is a good citizen of
the universe, a comrade in the movement to take care of and tend to “this fragile
earth, our island home”.
I speak to you in your home, listening in, hoping that you,
too, came to this webinar because you also strive to be a good citizen and comrade, and you, too, sense the urgency
of this moment in our lives to do better and be a better child of God and tend
to our creation. Advent seems a particularly good time to think about being
pregnant with possibilities for a new creation.
So it is from that perspective that I come to you tonight,
this first week in the Season of Advent, to talk about Creation Care and the element
of fire. I’d like to start by first defining what I mean when I say, “Creation
Care”. And then, I’ll turn my attention to the element of fire.
First, I believe strongly that care of God’s creation is a Gospel
issue, in that I believe repentance and reconciliation are central
to the message of the Gospel and the mission of the church. If you recall, our
catechism (sometimes called “An Outline of Faith” BCP p. 855 ) tells us that
the mission of the church is to “restore all people to unity with God and
each other in Christ”.
Repentance and reconciliation are central to restoration. We
cannot ‘restore’ something – return it to its former owner, place or condition –
without repenting and then reconciling the damage that was done that caused it
to need restoration in the first place, even though we know that the actual
thing that was taken or damaged or destroyed may not ever be able to be completely
replaced.
So, then, repentance, reconciliation and restoration are
essential ground work to fully receiving the gift of the resurrection of Jesus
from the cross and empty tomb. And, the gift of that spirit of resurrection is grace
– grace to see that out of death comes life; grace to know that the tomb that
appeared empty is actually filled with hope and possibility; grace to know in
the deepest places of our knowing that the passion of Jesus fires our
imagination and creativity.
And, I must add, these two – imagination and creativity –
are what I find most lacking among Christians in general and the institutional
church in particular. In my view, it's part of the reason we are in this crisis. It's time to start thinking out of the box. More on this later.
The gift of the grace of the resurrection leads us to the transformation
of our lives. We become newly born again in the spirit of reconciliation and
restoration. Our lives are transformed as we strive to live in greater unity
and harmony with ourselves, To love our neighbor as ourselves as the Great Commandment
decrees, to love one another as Christ loves us, as Jesus asks in the New
Commandment, with God and with each other in Christ Jesus, just as it says in
the mission statement of the church in the Outline of Faith.
On these cornerstones, then – repentance, reconciliation,
restoration, resurrection and transformation – rests my understanding of
the work of Creation Care.
I hope you have some comments or concerns or questions or
wonderments about what I’ve laid out as my understanding of the work of Creation
Care. I understand that I’ll be able to take your questions and we can have a
bit of a conversation – such as it is in this technological format – about this
increasingly important issue in our common lives.
I want, now, to turn our attention to the element of fire.
In his fascinating and compelling book, Sapiens,
Yuval Noah Harari, reports that << some human species may have made
occasional use of fire as early as 800,000 years ago. By about 300,000 years
ago Homo erectus, Neanderthals and the forefathers of Homo sapiens were using
fire on a daily basis. Humans now had a dependable source of light and warmth,
and a deadly weapon against prowling lions.
Not long afterwards, humans may even have started
deliberately to torch their neighborhoods. A carefully managed fire could turn impassable
barren thickets into prime grasslands teaming with game. In addition, once the
fire died down, Stone Age entrepreneurs could walk through the smoking remains
and harvest charcoaled animals, nuts and tubers.
But the best thing fire did was cook. Foods that humans
cannot digest in their natural forms – such as wheat, rice and potatoes –
became stables of our diet thanks to cooking. Fire not only changed food’s
chemistry it changed its biology as well.
Cooking killed germs and parasites that
infested food. Humans also had a far easier time chewing and digesting old
favorites such as fruits, nuts, insects and carrion if they were cooked.
Whereas chimpanzees spend five hours a day chewing raw food, a single hour
suffices for people eating cooked food.
The advent of cooking enabled humans to eat more kinds of
food, to devote less time to eating, and to make do with smaller teeth and
shorter intestines. Some scholars believe there is a direct link between the
advent of cooking, the shortening of the human intestinal track, and the growth
of the human brain.
Since long intestines and large brains are both massive
energy consumers, it’s hard to have both. By shortening the intestines and
decreasing their energy consumption, cooking inadvertently opened the way to
the jumbo brains of Neanderthals and Sapiens.
Fire also opened the first significant gulf between man
and the other animals. The power of almost all animals depends on their bodies:
the strength of their muscles, the size of their teeth, the breadth of their
wings. Though they may harness winds and currents, they are unable to control
these natural forces, and are always constrained by their physical design.
Eagles, for example identify thermal columns rising from the ground, spread
their giant wings and allow the hot air to lift them upwards. Yet eagles cannot
control the location of the columns, and their maximum carrying capacity is
strictly proportional to their wingspan.
When humans domesticated fire, they gained control of an
obedient and potentially limitless force. Unlike eagles, humans could choose
when and where to ignite a flame, and they were able to exploit fire for any
number of tasks.
Most importantly, the power of fire was not limited by the form,
structure or strength of the human body. A single woman or a small child with a
flint or fire stick could burn down an entire forest in a matter of hours. The
domestication of fire was a sign of things to come. >>
That sign of things to come has arrived.
As I was writing this, I checked the web page “Fire, Weather
& Avalanche” which tracks natural catastrophes. Right now – as I am
speaking to you – the United States is on fire:
In the state of Washington: 16 fires, 26,505 acres
In Kentucky: 8 fires, 480 acres
In Montana: 46 fires, 21,322 acres
In Texas: 16 fires, 622 acres (a total of 382 fires this
year, destroying 54,463 acres, to date)
In Missouri: 11 fires, 136 acres
In Oklahoma: 10 fires, 29 acres
In California: 85 fires, 5 acres (an 8-fold increase in the
areas burned by wildfire since 1972)
There are several other, smaller fires in Oregon, Idaho,
Nevada and Arizona but these are the major ones right now. It’s important to
know that several of these fires have been burning for months.
Drastic climatic and ecological conditions,
including climate change and long-term drought, led to the anticipation of a
potentially above-average wildfire season on the heels of two previous such
seasons in 2020 and 2021.
Our country ‘tis
of thee, sweet land of liberty, is on fire!
What can we do? What are we supposed to do? I mean, I consider
the images of the destruction brought on by climate change and pray about them
as I dutifully rinse out the jar of mayonnaise or pull apart a cardboard box
before placing them in the recycling bin.
I take my cloth bags to the grocery
store instead of plastic or paper bags and even have mesh bags for my fruits
and vegetables instead of using the thin plastic ones at the market.
I’m
careful about using my AC in the summer and heat in the winter. I try to live
simply so others can simply live. And yet, despite my best efforts, things seem
to be getting worse.
Is there anything else that can be done? What am I supposed
to be doing?
Here’s a hint: Theologian Jürgen Moltmann notes,
“It was modern industrial society
which for the first time viewed the earth simply as matter, and no longer as
holy. It is time for us to respect the holiness of God’s earth once more”.
With my particular perspective of Creation Care – repentance, reconciliation,
restoration, resurrection and transformation – what might happen, what
might change, how might we be transformed if we reconcile ourselves to the restoration
of the holiness of God’s earth once more?
I want to turn now to the particular perspective of the Rev.
Margaret Bullitt-Jonas, who is the Missioner for Creation Care in the
Episcopal Diocese of Western Massachusetts & Southern New England
Conference, United Church of Christ, as well as the Creation Care Advisor for
the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts.
Margaret points to a puzzle that consists of nine dots on a page,
lined up in rows of three.
The goal is to connect the dots by making four
straight lines without once lifting your pencil from the page or retracing the
same line.
The only way to connect all nine dots with just four straight
lines is to go outside the borders of the box.
Solving this puzzle is
an example of “thinking outside the box,” of moving beyond a given paradigm in
order to perceive or accomplish something that otherwise couldn’t be
perceived or accomplished.
Margaret writes: "That’s what religious and spiritual traditions are meant to
do: to help confused, isolated, and fearful human beings to think, feel, and
understand outside the box of our little ego-selves so that we can experience
our connections to each other and to a sacred Reality greater than “I,” “me,”
and “mine.”
Imagine, Margaret asks, that we live in a world in which everything
feels fragmented, divided, and falling apart, a world in which a beloved
landscape can go up in flames, a flash flood can drown people in a subway, a
mass shooting can take place in your local grocery store, and starving birds
can fall dead from the sky.
Imagine a world in which people feel helpless, frightened, and alone, more
tethered to their cell phones and social media than to each other, more ready
to arm themselves and stock food in their basement than to reach out to help a
neighbor, and perfectly willing to douse their lawns with herbicides and to eat
cheap beef from a factory farm because the fate of other creatures is of no
concern. Imagine isolated dots, trapped in an increasingly hot, harsh,
and violent world that could well tumble into social and ecological collapse.
I repeat: The only way to solve the puzzle is to go outside the box. Can the church help people find a way to do that?
I would like to ask you to just take a moment here to pause and
consider these two images. As you look at the image of nine unconnected dots, I
invite you to consider the problem of fire, the paradox of fire with its
potential to help and change and transform as well as the potential to do great
damage, to hurt and to hinder.
I invite you to consider the unintended
consequences of thinking we might “domesticate” fire and, instead, find a force
of nature that is wild and, if not respected or well-tended to, can devastate.
And now, I invite you to consider the solution – going outside the box. Notice,
please, that in order to connect the dots in four straight lines without
raising one’s pen off the paper, the solution is to not just once, not twice,
but to three times to move outside the box.
Also notice, please, that the
solution, as a whole, forms the shape of a bow and arrow.
Margaret asks: “Imagine now that we find four lines of
thought or four arrows of prayerful intention that disclose an underlying
wholeness and unity. What if those isolated dots – what if all of us –
discovered that we were held together in a sacred reality, that we were
embraced by a love that created all things, connects all things, and sustains
all things?”
“On the surface, in the realm of our senses, we might
notice only differences, what divides us from each other, but in the deep
center of reality we would sense common ground that holds everything together,
drawing us into community with each other and drawing us into communion with
the sacred Mystery that some of us call “God.” Now we would be living
outside the box. And from this place we could begin to heal ourselves and
an ailing world.”
I want to be bold and suggest to you that the way of
Creation Care is the way of the Gospel. I want to be bold enough to suggest to
you that the model of Creation Care – repentance, reconciliation,
restoration, resurrection and transformation – is nothing other than the Way of Jesus, a path
of Christian life which Jesus has set out for us.
I want to point to you that Jesus was always pushing the
envelope, blurring the boundaries, going outside the box in order to begin to
help us turn on the light, wake up from our stupor of sleep and heal ourselves
and this old, dark, broken world.
It is here, I think, that the mystics can help us, as they
often do when it comes to learning to live outside the box. I want to close
with a story from one of the great mystics of our time.
This is called The
Seed of the Jack Pine, from “Meditations of the Heart” by Howard Thurman
In response to a letter of inquiry addressed to a Canadian forester
concerning the jack pine which abounds in British Columbia, the following
statement was received:
“Essentially, you are correct when you say that jack pine
cones require artificial heat to release the seed from the cone. The cones
often remain closed for years, the seeds retaining their viability. In the
interior of the province, the cones which have dropped to the ground will open
at least partly with the help of the sun’s reflected heat. However, the
establishment of the majority of our jack pine stands has undoubtedly been
established following forest fires. Seldom do the cones release their seed
while on the tree.”
The seed of the jack pine will not be given up by the
cone unless the cone itself is subjected to sustained and concentrated heat.
The forest fire sweeps all before it and there remain but the charred reminders
of a former growth and a former beauty.
It is then in the midst of the ashes that the secret of the cone is exposed.
The tender seed finds the stirring of life deep within itself – and what is
deepest in the seed reaches out to what is deepest in life – the result? A
tender shoot, gentle roots, until, at last, there stands straight against the
sky the majestic glory of the jack pine.
It is not too far afield to suggest that there are things deep within the human
spirit that are firmly imbedded, dormant, latent and inactive. These things are
always positive, even though they may be destructive rather than creative.
But there they remain until our lives are swept by the forest fire: It may be
some mindless tragedy, some violent disclosure of human depravity or some
moment of agony in which the whole country or nation may be involved. The
experience releases something that has been locked up within all through the
years.
If it be something that calls to the deepest things in life, we may, like the
jack pine, grow tall and straight against the sky.
It is my fervent prayer that the fiery crisis in which we
presently find ourselves which melts the snow in Alaska and scorches the plains
in California, polluting the air we breathe and the water we drink, threatening
every element of fire, air, earth and water that are holy gifts from God – that
this very “climate crisis” provides the release of something that has been
locked up within us, as individuals and as a people, through the years.
It is my deepest hope that that which has been locked up
within ourselves is nothing less that love – the love that Jesus exhorted us to
have for one another. The love that was incarnate in Him.
The sacrificial love
that was born in a humble cave in Bethlehem, died on the cross on a hill called
Calvary and was reborn in the empty tomb in Palestine. The love that lives in
us all when we discover the Christ in me and seek and serve the Christ in all
creatures and creation.
I hold fast to the promise of which French Jesuit priest,
scientist, paleontologist, theologian, philosopher and teacher, Pierre Teilhard
de Chardin once wrote,
“The day
will come when, after harnessing space, the winds, the tides, and gravitation,
we shall harness for God the energies of love. And on that day, for the second
time in the history of the world, we shall have discovered fire.”
Thank you for your patient listening. I now invite your questions
and comments, your curiosities and wonderments.
