Put the Whole World In Our Hands
Sermon
Holidays Are Holy Days
Sermons For Special Sundays
One of the Apollo 17 astronauts said that, as he looked back upon the earth from the moon, the earth, spinning slowly against the vast, black background of space, looked like "a big, blue marble." Think about how beautiful, but fragile and precious, irreplaceable and unique, the earth is. Consider the earth.
From Psalm 8, our First Reading:
O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth ... When I look at thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast established; What is man that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that thou dost care for him?
Yet thou have made (us) little less than God, and dost crown (us) with glory and honor. Thou hast given (us) dominion (power, control, mastery) over the works of thy hands. Thou hast put all things under (our) feet. All the sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the sea.
O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!
-- Psalm 8:1, 3-9 (RSV)
Think about this "big, blue marble" God has entrusted to us. It's old. Scientists estimate the earth is 4.6 billion years old. It has a solid core of iron and nickel surrounded by molten liquid. It's hot: somewhere between 1,000 and 3,000 degrees centigrade.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!"
But, at the same time, two-thirds of its surface is cooled by water: 97 percent salt water, only three percent fresh. The oceans surrounding us cover nine times the surface of the moon. The earth below our feet is, in a sense, "alive." Beneath the surface, twelve gigantic plates, some carrying continents, are constantly drifting and shifting. Sometimes they smash into each other. The earth quakes. Above us, polar jet streams, subtropical jet streams, atmospheric winds, El Nina, hurricanes with names like "Alex," "Bonnie," and "Charley" are twirling and swirling and forming.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!"
The earth reaches up to the peak of Mount Everest, 30,000 feet in the clouds, and down to the depths of the Dead Sea, 1,300 feet below sea level. This "big, blue marble" is a marvel. It has tropical rain forests and bone-dry deserts, glaciers and grasslands, inlets and islands.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!"
Everywhere, it's bursting with a variety and richness of life, like a rhododendron blossom exploding into bloom. There's so much life. Like the Samoan dwarf goby, the world's smallest fish, so tiny each weighs just 1/14,000 of an ounce. Or the giant blue whale, that can grow to 150 tons and 110 feet long. The blue whale's tongue alone may weigh three tons, as much as 35 men. There's the smallest flowering plant, a floating duckweed so tiny 25 could fit on your fingernail, and the giant Sequoias of California, over 270 feet tall, and nearly eighty feet around. Each one has enough lumber to build forty houses.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth ... Thou hast put all things under (our) feet, all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, the birds of the air and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the sea."
Remember, you and I hold the future of life on this planet in our hands. We are meant to pass it on. But what have we done to God's good earth? We know. Already, half the rain forests are gone. Over 1,000 species are on the endangered or threatened species list in America alone. Off Cape Cod, which got its name from the abundance of cod, it's a rarity to catch a cod anymore. They're mostly gone, over-fished.
Each year, our country loses two million acres a year of prime farmland to erosion. Another million acres a year are lost to building houses, roads, and shopping malls. We are losing our topsoil seventeen times faster than it is replaced.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!"
More than 20,000 pesticides, including over 600 active ingredients, stuff you and I put on our gardens and lawns, are sold in America. In 1991, the EPA found 98 different pesticides, including DDT, in the groundwater of forty states. The drinking water of over ten million people is contaminated. Some of those people live right here.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!"
God put the whole world in our hands. God entrusted this planet to us. What have we done to the earth?! How do we get out of this mess?
Let's listen again to Proverbs 8, our Second Lesson:
Does not wisdom call, and does not understanding raise her voice? On the heights, beside the way, at the crossroads she takes her stand; beside the gates in front of the town, at the entrance to portals she cries out: "To you, O people, I call, and my cry is to all that live. O simple ones, learn prudence; acquire intelligence, you who lack it...."
-- Proverbs 8:1-5 (NRSV)
The passage continues, "When (God) assigned to the sea its limit ... Then I was beside (God) like a master worker ... rejoicing before God always ... and delighting in the human race." Wisdom concludes, "And now, my children, listen to me: happy are those who keep my ways. Hear instruction and be wise ..." (vv. 29-33a NRSV).
The unknown writer of this remarkable passage says that, when God created everything, God infused every thing with wisdom. As some beloved hymns put it, "All creatures of our God and king"; "All creatures great and small"; "All things now living" shout out to us about our responsibility for sharing and caring for the earth. Wisdom calls. Are we listening to her voice?
I think our Native American brothers and sisters have listened to the wisdom of the earth far better than most of us have. Let me close by sharing a few thoughts from a Native American. This is from a letter written by Chief Seattle to President Franklin Pierce. It's nearly 150 years old, but still valid today:
We do not own the sweet air or the sparkle on the water ... Each pine tree shining in the sun, each sandy beach, the mist hanging in the dark woods, each space, each humming bee, every part of the Earth is sacred to my people, Holy in their memory and experience. We are part of the Earth and the Earth is part of us. The fragrant flowers are our sisters. The reindeer, the horse, the great eagle are our brothers. The rocky heights, the foaming crests of waves in the river, the sap of meadow flowers, the body heat of the pony -- and of human beings -- all belong to the same family ...
We know that the White Man does not understand our way of life ... He is a stranger who comes in the night and takes what he needs. The Earth is not his friend, but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on ...
If all the animals ceased to exist, human beings would die of a great loneliness of the spirit. For whatever happens to the animals will happen soon also to human beings.
Continue to soil your bed and one night you will suffocate in your own wastes. Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but the thread of it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect. Whatever befalls the Earth befalls also the children of the Earth.1
-- Native American wisdom -- from 1855
Challenging words. But we can change. I know we can change. Money magazine, in the '90s, voted Nashua, New Hampshire, "The Best Place To Live" in America. Nashua was the first recipient of that honor and the only city in America to be named twice.
In the '50s and early '60s, no one who knew Nashua would have voted it America's "best place to live." That's because the Nashua River ran through the center of the city -- and the Nashua River stank.
There was the pickle factory exuding vinegar fumes. There were the paper companies. There was the tannery. On a hot summer's day, the smell couldn't be described. The water was a very suspicious chemical green. No one swam, boated, or fished in the Nashua River.
In the late '60s, they began to clean the river up. Today people swim, boat, and fish in the Nashua. A recent, special edition of National Geographic touted its "remarkable change." We can change.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!... Thou hast given (us) dominion over the works of thy hands. Thou hast put all things under (our) feet."
God trusts us. God believes in us. We can cherish and honor and protect this "big, blue marble." We can do it! If you and I begin to listen to and follow the wisdom God has put into all of creation, and into all of our hearts.
____________
1.aEarth Day Booklet, "Selections From The Assisi Declarations And Other Documents," unpublished, 1990, p. 3.
Earth Day
Theology And Ecology For A Small Planet
Psalm 8; Genesis 1:26-31
I recently learned I have an "ecological footprint." You have one, too. Our ecological footprints are the relative amount of space we each take up on the earth, not based on our actual size but on how much we consume.
Think about it like this: Everything you or I consume or use has to come from somewhere. Your worship bulletin is made from paper, which comes from a tree -- which, before it was cut down, required a certain space to grow. So, the paper in your bulletin represents a tiny percentage of the footprint of that tree. The cup of coffee you had this morning was made from coffee beans, which came from a coffee plant, which grew somewhere: another small space. If you're wearing an all-cotton shirt or blouse, it came from cotton growing on a plant that took up a certain amount of the world's resources.
Everything you and I consume or use -- the food we eat, the clothes we wear, the house we live in, the lot it's on, the fuel we burn in our car, the electricity lighting our sanctuary right now -- can be added up. The total is the demand any one of us places on the environment. That total of our individual consumption is our personal ecological footprint.1
There's a quick quiz to estimate your ecological footprint on the Internet. The web site is www.lead.org/leadnet/footprint/intro.htm. It's just twelve questions -- about the gas mileage your car gets, the number of miles you drive in a year, the square footage of your house, and so on. It's an interesting quiz. Perhaps some of you will try it today.
The web site carries a warning. It says, in effect, "Watch out! Knowing your impact on the environment may cause you to think!" It made me think. The average American -- you or I -- requires a thirty-acre footprint to live on. Thirty acres! That's a Ponderosa of consumption! The average Canadian requires twenty acres. They live on one third less. The average Italian uses less than half as much of the earth's resources as we do, fourteen acres. The average ecological footprint worldwide is seven acres per person. But the average man or woman in India lives on the equivalent of less than two acres. So Americans, on the average, demand more than four times as much from the environment than does the average world citizen. We consume as much as fifteen people living in India. Is that fair?
There's another issue, too. According to some calculations, the amount of space human beings take up already exceeds the planet's carrying capacity. Our total demand is already larger than the resources available on earth -- and there are ninety million more people every year. Rich or poor, each one adds to demands we humans make on the planet. Clearly, as we approach Earth Day, we ought to have concerns about the ecology of our small planet. For we humans are in real danger of wearing out the world.
Our environmental problems are serious. Sometimes they may seem overwhelming. Where do we begin to better protect and preserve God's good earth? I believe the place for Christians to start is with theology. Theology addresses our ultimate values. That includes the value you and I place on the earth.
One writer, Michael Blaine, suggests we match "deep ecology" with "deeper theology."2 "Deep ecology" is a phrase coined about forty years ago by Arne Naess. Naess was a Norwegian philosopher, mountaineer, and Nazi resistor. For Naess, "deep ecology" meant valuing and honoring nature simply for itself, apart from whatever use nature might have for human beings.
Think about how we might think about a tree. We could see a tree simply as a useful product. I learned somewhere that an economist once calculated the value of a fifty-year-old tree planted in Manhattan.
He estimated the value of a large, mature tree in Manhattan at about $250,000. That's the price of the wood, plus the topsoil the tree's roots keep from eroding, plus the savings in air-conditioning a tree generates by cooling buildings in the summer and the savings in heating it creates by helping break the winter wind. It also figures in the harmful effects of the carbon dioxide the tree gobbles up, plus the value of the oxygen the tree pumps into the air. $250,000 a tree! "Who wants to be a millionaire?" Most homeowners on Cape Cod are millionaires, at least in trees!
But that's valuing a tree only as an object. That's an "I-It" relationship. But as Martin Buber might put it, we can also have an "I-Thou" relationship with a tree.3 We can hug it, climb it, talk to it, commune with it, and value the tree simply for being another being: beautiful and worthy, precious and lovely in itself.
That's where deep ecology touches deep theology. For what Christians believe about God and about God's creation will have a profound impact on how we treat trees and we use or abuse the good earth. Astute observers, including mythologist Joseph Campbell and cultural historian Lynn White, Jr., have contended that Christianity itself has contributed to environmental problems.
Let me say that again: Some contend Christianity itself has contributed to environmental problems. At issue is what the Bible seems to say about humankind's relationship with the world.
In Genesis 1:28, God tells us to "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." In Psalm 8, the Psalmist, speaking to God, says, "You have given (humankind) dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under their feet, all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, the birds of the air and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the sea" (v. 6 NRSV).
"Fill the earth and subdue it." "God puts all things under our feet." Bible passages like that have sometimes led what some call "Domination Theology." That's the idea that, when God created humans, God gave us free reign to subdue, dominate, and conquer all living things. Since the Industrial Revolution especially, in the last 150 years, that's exactly what we've been doing, creating ever larger ecological footprints and driving into extinction millions of species.
However, the Bible does not say "dominate" but "have dominion" over the earth. "Dominion" can be understood as exercising a "powerful influence" or "kindly rule."4 In Hebrew, the word for "dominion" is the wise and just rule of a good king. Like it or not, we human beings presently do have a powerful influence on the planet. What we need to become is more protective, more reverent, more loving and more consciously "kindly" toward the earth.
That reverence for the earth is found throughout the Bible. Listen, for example, to these verses (all from the RSV): "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof" (Psalm 24:1). "Ever since the creation of the world (God's) eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made" (Romans 1:20). "... ask the beasts and they will teach you; the birds of the air and they will tell you ... The plants of the earth ... and the fish of the sea will declare (God) to you" (Job 12:7-8). Jesus himself celebrated the "birds of the air" and the "lilies of the field" (Matthew 6:26, 28).
Good theology should lead to good ecology. Genesis 1 proclaims that God made the earth and God made it good. So when we pollute the air and poison the sea and drive animals into extinction, we crucify nature and sin against God. Both theology and ecology demand we turn around. We are called to love our neighbors -- including the plants and animals -- we are called to love our neighbors, as we love ourselves. Reverence for the earth is the beginning of a good theology and ecology for a small planet.
But beyond changing how we think, we all must make some serious changes in how we act. For God's sake and the planet's sake, you and I must reduce our ecological footprint on the earth.
Americans, on the average, waste 25 percent of the food we buy. We each generate 25 tons of waste products a year. We all know we must drive more fuel-efficient cars, and ask ourselves, "Is this trip necessary?" We all know America needs to develop alternative energy. This Earth Day can we commit ourselves -- or recommit ourselves -- to change?
Will life come to an end if we each make significant reductions in our consumption? Of course not! Let me offer an illustration. In the '70s, I lived in with a family in Edinburgh, Scotland, while I spent a year studying there.
At that time, many Scottish people did not own a car. In Edinburgh, they had access to good public transportation. None of the families had central heating in their homes. Some didn't even own a refrigerator. They bought their perishables at the greengrocers every day.
The Scots lived on a whole lot less than I was accustomed to. Were they unhappy? Far from it! My Scottish friends honestly seemed to get more pure enjoyment out of simple things, like taking a walk, gardening, conversation, singing, poetry, the company of friends -- and a pint at the pub. Consuming more does not necessarily make us happier. Nor did consuming less seem to make my Scottish friends unhappy. As Jesus put it, "our lives do not consist of the abundance of things" (Luke 12:15).
I'm not an economist. I don't know what might happen to the world if the average American began living more like the average Scotsman. I do know that, on average, our environmental footprint would be reduced by half. And that the lilies of the field, the birds of the air and the fish of the sea and whatever passes along the paths of the sea would have a better chance at survival. If you and I live more simply, other creatures can simply live.
Let me close with a quote found on the Internet from an activist theologian, Ron Sider of Eastern Baptist Theological Seminary. Dr. Sider writes, "If ever we are to stop destroying our environment, it will be because person by person we decide, by God's grace, to turn aside from greed and materialism. It will be because we learn that joy and fulfillment come through right relationship with God, neighbor and earth, not an ever-escalating demand for more and more material consumption. Nowhere is that more possible than in local congregations that combine prayer and action, worship and analysis, deep personal love for the Creator and for the Creator's garden."
That's a good theology for a small planet. It leads to good ecology, too.
____________
1.aMathis Wackernagel and William Rees, Our Ecological Footprint (Gabriola Island, British Columbia, Canada: New Society Publishers, 1996).
2.aStan I. LeQuire, editor, "Deep Ecology, Deeper Theology," The Best Preaching on Earth (Valley Forge, Pennsylvania: Judson Press, 1996), pp. 3ff.
3.aMartin Buber, I And Thou (New York: Scribner's, 1958), pp. 58-59.
4.aJay McDaniel, With Roots and Wings (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1995), p. 120.
From Psalm 8, our First Reading:
O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth ... When I look at thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars which thou hast established; What is man that thou art mindful of him, and the son of man that thou dost care for him?
Yet thou have made (us) little less than God, and dost crown (us) with glory and honor. Thou hast given (us) dominion (power, control, mastery) over the works of thy hands. Thou hast put all things under (our) feet. All the sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the sea.
O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!
-- Psalm 8:1, 3-9 (RSV)
Think about this "big, blue marble" God has entrusted to us. It's old. Scientists estimate the earth is 4.6 billion years old. It has a solid core of iron and nickel surrounded by molten liquid. It's hot: somewhere between 1,000 and 3,000 degrees centigrade.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!"
But, at the same time, two-thirds of its surface is cooled by water: 97 percent salt water, only three percent fresh. The oceans surrounding us cover nine times the surface of the moon. The earth below our feet is, in a sense, "alive." Beneath the surface, twelve gigantic plates, some carrying continents, are constantly drifting and shifting. Sometimes they smash into each other. The earth quakes. Above us, polar jet streams, subtropical jet streams, atmospheric winds, El Nina, hurricanes with names like "Alex," "Bonnie," and "Charley" are twirling and swirling and forming.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!"
The earth reaches up to the peak of Mount Everest, 30,000 feet in the clouds, and down to the depths of the Dead Sea, 1,300 feet below sea level. This "big, blue marble" is a marvel. It has tropical rain forests and bone-dry deserts, glaciers and grasslands, inlets and islands.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!"
Everywhere, it's bursting with a variety and richness of life, like a rhododendron blossom exploding into bloom. There's so much life. Like the Samoan dwarf goby, the world's smallest fish, so tiny each weighs just 1/14,000 of an ounce. Or the giant blue whale, that can grow to 150 tons and 110 feet long. The blue whale's tongue alone may weigh three tons, as much as 35 men. There's the smallest flowering plant, a floating duckweed so tiny 25 could fit on your fingernail, and the giant Sequoias of California, over 270 feet tall, and nearly eighty feet around. Each one has enough lumber to build forty houses.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth ... Thou hast put all things under (our) feet, all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, the birds of the air and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the sea."
Remember, you and I hold the future of life on this planet in our hands. We are meant to pass it on. But what have we done to God's good earth? We know. Already, half the rain forests are gone. Over 1,000 species are on the endangered or threatened species list in America alone. Off Cape Cod, which got its name from the abundance of cod, it's a rarity to catch a cod anymore. They're mostly gone, over-fished.
Each year, our country loses two million acres a year of prime farmland to erosion. Another million acres a year are lost to building houses, roads, and shopping malls. We are losing our topsoil seventeen times faster than it is replaced.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!"
More than 20,000 pesticides, including over 600 active ingredients, stuff you and I put on our gardens and lawns, are sold in America. In 1991, the EPA found 98 different pesticides, including DDT, in the groundwater of forty states. The drinking water of over ten million people is contaminated. Some of those people live right here.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!"
God put the whole world in our hands. God entrusted this planet to us. What have we done to the earth?! How do we get out of this mess?
Let's listen again to Proverbs 8, our Second Lesson:
Does not wisdom call, and does not understanding raise her voice? On the heights, beside the way, at the crossroads she takes her stand; beside the gates in front of the town, at the entrance to portals she cries out: "To you, O people, I call, and my cry is to all that live. O simple ones, learn prudence; acquire intelligence, you who lack it...."
-- Proverbs 8:1-5 (NRSV)
The passage continues, "When (God) assigned to the sea its limit ... Then I was beside (God) like a master worker ... rejoicing before God always ... and delighting in the human race." Wisdom concludes, "And now, my children, listen to me: happy are those who keep my ways. Hear instruction and be wise ..." (vv. 29-33a NRSV).
The unknown writer of this remarkable passage says that, when God created everything, God infused every thing with wisdom. As some beloved hymns put it, "All creatures of our God and king"; "All creatures great and small"; "All things now living" shout out to us about our responsibility for sharing and caring for the earth. Wisdom calls. Are we listening to her voice?
I think our Native American brothers and sisters have listened to the wisdom of the earth far better than most of us have. Let me close by sharing a few thoughts from a Native American. This is from a letter written by Chief Seattle to President Franklin Pierce. It's nearly 150 years old, but still valid today:
We do not own the sweet air or the sparkle on the water ... Each pine tree shining in the sun, each sandy beach, the mist hanging in the dark woods, each space, each humming bee, every part of the Earth is sacred to my people, Holy in their memory and experience. We are part of the Earth and the Earth is part of us. The fragrant flowers are our sisters. The reindeer, the horse, the great eagle are our brothers. The rocky heights, the foaming crests of waves in the river, the sap of meadow flowers, the body heat of the pony -- and of human beings -- all belong to the same family ...
We know that the White Man does not understand our way of life ... He is a stranger who comes in the night and takes what he needs. The Earth is not his friend, but his enemy, and when he has conquered it, he moves on ...
If all the animals ceased to exist, human beings would die of a great loneliness of the spirit. For whatever happens to the animals will happen soon also to human beings.
Continue to soil your bed and one night you will suffocate in your own wastes. Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but the thread of it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect. Whatever befalls the Earth befalls also the children of the Earth.1
-- Native American wisdom -- from 1855
Challenging words. But we can change. I know we can change. Money magazine, in the '90s, voted Nashua, New Hampshire, "The Best Place To Live" in America. Nashua was the first recipient of that honor and the only city in America to be named twice.
In the '50s and early '60s, no one who knew Nashua would have voted it America's "best place to live." That's because the Nashua River ran through the center of the city -- and the Nashua River stank.
There was the pickle factory exuding vinegar fumes. There were the paper companies. There was the tannery. On a hot summer's day, the smell couldn't be described. The water was a very suspicious chemical green. No one swam, boated, or fished in the Nashua River.
In the late '60s, they began to clean the river up. Today people swim, boat, and fish in the Nashua. A recent, special edition of National Geographic touted its "remarkable change." We can change.
"O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is thy name in all the earth!... Thou hast given (us) dominion over the works of thy hands. Thou hast put all things under (our) feet."
God trusts us. God believes in us. We can cherish and honor and protect this "big, blue marble." We can do it! If you and I begin to listen to and follow the wisdom God has put into all of creation, and into all of our hearts.
____________
1.aEarth Day Booklet, "Selections From The Assisi Declarations And Other Documents," unpublished, 1990, p. 3.
Earth Day
Theology And Ecology For A Small Planet
Psalm 8; Genesis 1:26-31
I recently learned I have an "ecological footprint." You have one, too. Our ecological footprints are the relative amount of space we each take up on the earth, not based on our actual size but on how much we consume.
Think about it like this: Everything you or I consume or use has to come from somewhere. Your worship bulletin is made from paper, which comes from a tree -- which, before it was cut down, required a certain space to grow. So, the paper in your bulletin represents a tiny percentage of the footprint of that tree. The cup of coffee you had this morning was made from coffee beans, which came from a coffee plant, which grew somewhere: another small space. If you're wearing an all-cotton shirt or blouse, it came from cotton growing on a plant that took up a certain amount of the world's resources.
Everything you and I consume or use -- the food we eat, the clothes we wear, the house we live in, the lot it's on, the fuel we burn in our car, the electricity lighting our sanctuary right now -- can be added up. The total is the demand any one of us places on the environment. That total of our individual consumption is our personal ecological footprint.1
There's a quick quiz to estimate your ecological footprint on the Internet. The web site is www.lead.org/leadnet/footprint/intro.htm. It's just twelve questions -- about the gas mileage your car gets, the number of miles you drive in a year, the square footage of your house, and so on. It's an interesting quiz. Perhaps some of you will try it today.
The web site carries a warning. It says, in effect, "Watch out! Knowing your impact on the environment may cause you to think!" It made me think. The average American -- you or I -- requires a thirty-acre footprint to live on. Thirty acres! That's a Ponderosa of consumption! The average Canadian requires twenty acres. They live on one third less. The average Italian uses less than half as much of the earth's resources as we do, fourteen acres. The average ecological footprint worldwide is seven acres per person. But the average man or woman in India lives on the equivalent of less than two acres. So Americans, on the average, demand more than four times as much from the environment than does the average world citizen. We consume as much as fifteen people living in India. Is that fair?
There's another issue, too. According to some calculations, the amount of space human beings take up already exceeds the planet's carrying capacity. Our total demand is already larger than the resources available on earth -- and there are ninety million more people every year. Rich or poor, each one adds to demands we humans make on the planet. Clearly, as we approach Earth Day, we ought to have concerns about the ecology of our small planet. For we humans are in real danger of wearing out the world.
Our environmental problems are serious. Sometimes they may seem overwhelming. Where do we begin to better protect and preserve God's good earth? I believe the place for Christians to start is with theology. Theology addresses our ultimate values. That includes the value you and I place on the earth.
One writer, Michael Blaine, suggests we match "deep ecology" with "deeper theology."2 "Deep ecology" is a phrase coined about forty years ago by Arne Naess. Naess was a Norwegian philosopher, mountaineer, and Nazi resistor. For Naess, "deep ecology" meant valuing and honoring nature simply for itself, apart from whatever use nature might have for human beings.
Think about how we might think about a tree. We could see a tree simply as a useful product. I learned somewhere that an economist once calculated the value of a fifty-year-old tree planted in Manhattan.
He estimated the value of a large, mature tree in Manhattan at about $250,000. That's the price of the wood, plus the topsoil the tree's roots keep from eroding, plus the savings in air-conditioning a tree generates by cooling buildings in the summer and the savings in heating it creates by helping break the winter wind. It also figures in the harmful effects of the carbon dioxide the tree gobbles up, plus the value of the oxygen the tree pumps into the air. $250,000 a tree! "Who wants to be a millionaire?" Most homeowners on Cape Cod are millionaires, at least in trees!
But that's valuing a tree only as an object. That's an "I-It" relationship. But as Martin Buber might put it, we can also have an "I-Thou" relationship with a tree.3 We can hug it, climb it, talk to it, commune with it, and value the tree simply for being another being: beautiful and worthy, precious and lovely in itself.
That's where deep ecology touches deep theology. For what Christians believe about God and about God's creation will have a profound impact on how we treat trees and we use or abuse the good earth. Astute observers, including mythologist Joseph Campbell and cultural historian Lynn White, Jr., have contended that Christianity itself has contributed to environmental problems.
Let me say that again: Some contend Christianity itself has contributed to environmental problems. At issue is what the Bible seems to say about humankind's relationship with the world.
In Genesis 1:28, God tells us to "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." In Psalm 8, the Psalmist, speaking to God, says, "You have given (humankind) dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under their feet, all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, the birds of the air and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the sea" (v. 6 NRSV).
"Fill the earth and subdue it." "God puts all things under our feet." Bible passages like that have sometimes led what some call "Domination Theology." That's the idea that, when God created humans, God gave us free reign to subdue, dominate, and conquer all living things. Since the Industrial Revolution especially, in the last 150 years, that's exactly what we've been doing, creating ever larger ecological footprints and driving into extinction millions of species.
However, the Bible does not say "dominate" but "have dominion" over the earth. "Dominion" can be understood as exercising a "powerful influence" or "kindly rule."4 In Hebrew, the word for "dominion" is the wise and just rule of a good king. Like it or not, we human beings presently do have a powerful influence on the planet. What we need to become is more protective, more reverent, more loving and more consciously "kindly" toward the earth.
That reverence for the earth is found throughout the Bible. Listen, for example, to these verses (all from the RSV): "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof" (Psalm 24:1). "Ever since the creation of the world (God's) eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things he has made" (Romans 1:20). "... ask the beasts and they will teach you; the birds of the air and they will tell you ... The plants of the earth ... and the fish of the sea will declare (God) to you" (Job 12:7-8). Jesus himself celebrated the "birds of the air" and the "lilies of the field" (Matthew 6:26, 28).
Good theology should lead to good ecology. Genesis 1 proclaims that God made the earth and God made it good. So when we pollute the air and poison the sea and drive animals into extinction, we crucify nature and sin against God. Both theology and ecology demand we turn around. We are called to love our neighbors -- including the plants and animals -- we are called to love our neighbors, as we love ourselves. Reverence for the earth is the beginning of a good theology and ecology for a small planet.
But beyond changing how we think, we all must make some serious changes in how we act. For God's sake and the planet's sake, you and I must reduce our ecological footprint on the earth.
Americans, on the average, waste 25 percent of the food we buy. We each generate 25 tons of waste products a year. We all know we must drive more fuel-efficient cars, and ask ourselves, "Is this trip necessary?" We all know America needs to develop alternative energy. This Earth Day can we commit ourselves -- or recommit ourselves -- to change?
Will life come to an end if we each make significant reductions in our consumption? Of course not! Let me offer an illustration. In the '70s, I lived in with a family in Edinburgh, Scotland, while I spent a year studying there.
At that time, many Scottish people did not own a car. In Edinburgh, they had access to good public transportation. None of the families had central heating in their homes. Some didn't even own a refrigerator. They bought their perishables at the greengrocers every day.
The Scots lived on a whole lot less than I was accustomed to. Were they unhappy? Far from it! My Scottish friends honestly seemed to get more pure enjoyment out of simple things, like taking a walk, gardening, conversation, singing, poetry, the company of friends -- and a pint at the pub. Consuming more does not necessarily make us happier. Nor did consuming less seem to make my Scottish friends unhappy. As Jesus put it, "our lives do not consist of the abundance of things" (Luke 12:15).
I'm not an economist. I don't know what might happen to the world if the average American began living more like the average Scotsman. I do know that, on average, our environmental footprint would be reduced by half. And that the lilies of the field, the birds of the air and the fish of the sea and whatever passes along the paths of the sea would have a better chance at survival. If you and I live more simply, other creatures can simply live.
Let me close with a quote found on the Internet from an activist theologian, Ron Sider of Eastern Baptist Theological Seminary. Dr. Sider writes, "If ever we are to stop destroying our environment, it will be because person by person we decide, by God's grace, to turn aside from greed and materialism. It will be because we learn that joy and fulfillment come through right relationship with God, neighbor and earth, not an ever-escalating demand for more and more material consumption. Nowhere is that more possible than in local congregations that combine prayer and action, worship and analysis, deep personal love for the Creator and for the Creator's garden."
That's a good theology for a small planet. It leads to good ecology, too.
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1.aMathis Wackernagel and William Rees, Our Ecological Footprint (Gabriola Island, British Columbia, Canada: New Society Publishers, 1996).
2.aStan I. LeQuire, editor, "Deep Ecology, Deeper Theology," The Best Preaching on Earth (Valley Forge, Pennsylvania: Judson Press, 1996), pp. 3ff.
3.aMartin Buber, I And Thou (New York: Scribner's, 1958), pp. 58-59.
4.aJay McDaniel, With Roots and Wings (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 1995), p. 120.
