Creation Connection (Isaiah 43: 16-21)

 Who here is an SNL fan? Did you see the “Washington’s Dream” sketches with Nate Bargatze?

⬛ In one of those sketches, he’s in his boat, crossing the Delaware River with some of his soldiers.

Washington says to his soldiers: “Men, we fight to control our own destiny, to create our own nation… and for the freedom to have two different names for animals. One when they are alive, and a different one when they are food. So cows will be beef and pigs will be pork.”

“And chickens, sir?”

[pause] “that one stays… chickens are chicken… And we will create our own foods, and name them what we want. Like the hamburger.”

“Made of ham, sir?”

“Ah, if it were only that simple. A hamburger is made of beef. Just as a buffalo wing is made of chicken. But fear not, men; a hot dog will not be made of dogs.”

“What is it made of, sir?”

“Nobody knows.”

“But sir, shouldn’t we know what’s in a hot dog?”

“Get out. Get out of the boat. A real American would never want to know what’s in a hot dog.”

That sketch makes me laugh, but I didn’t think much more about it, until one day when I was re-reading one of my favorite books: Braiding Sweetgrass, by Robin Wall Kimmerer.

In one of the chapters of that book, the author is describing how important it is to be mindful of the choices she makes, choosing food that not only nourishes her, but is harvested and produced in an honorable way.

She appreciates that her local grocery store has partnered with local farmers to provide organic goods at a reasonable price. She likes that she can walk the aisles “with open eyes, the source of the food mostly evident, although Cheetos and Ding Dongs remain an ecological mystery.”

⬛ Hot dogs. Cheetos. Ding Dongs. What are they made of? 

Hot dogs generally have some kind of meat… and a whole bunch of other mysterious ingredients. Cheetos, one would think, would have some sort of cheese in them…and they do… a little bit… along with 20 other ingredients, some of which I can’t pronounce… And Ding Dongs… there’s over 40 different ingredients in a Ding Dong. I don’t know how they find room on the package to list them all.

In one way or another, all these ingredients do come from the earth. But many of them have been so processed and transformed, that they no longer resemble anything natural. 

And these products appear on store shelves wrapped in colorful packaging. This colorful packaging, and the modification and transformation of ingredients, all serve to disconnect us from the earth; disconnect us from the source of all that is good and nutritious and wholesome.

⬛ Eating should remind us of our connection to the earth. If anything should remind us of our connection to the earth, it should be eating!

Another book I’ve read mentions that feeling disconnected is one of the biggest causes of depression. Disconnection from other people, and disconnection from the earth, from the creation that we are part of.

Feeling disconnected leaves us feeling discontented.

Feeling disconnected means we forget that we are a part of something much bigger: the whole universe. 

If you’re growing your own crops, or harvesting them in the wild as Robin Wall Kimmerer sometimes does, you can’t help but realize how connected you are, how connected your life is, to the earth. If you are hunting your own food, you can’t help but notice how your life depends on the lives of other creatures. 

And in both cases, being aware of such things, we feel compelled to offer gratitude. It becomes almost natural. 

But if our food comes from the freezer, wrapped in plastic, and filled with unpronounceable ingredients created in a lab somewhere, it becomes easy to lose sight of the connection.

…which leads us to feeling, isolated, alone, and depressed. 

And when we feel isolated, alone, and depressed, it’s hard to feel grateful for the food we eat.

In past generations, people were more connected. They were more connected to each other, and they were more connected to the earth.

Biblical writers knew they were connected to the earth. Biblical writers often use imagery from the natural world. Using imagery from the natural world was natural for them, for they knew that they were connected to creation, they were aware that they depended on the earth, on nature.

⬛ In today’s scripture, which is one of the lectionary readings for today, the prophet describes God as the one who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters; the one who makes a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert; the one who is honored and praised by wild animals: jackals and ostriches. 

Earlier this year, I preached a sermon from this same chapter in Isaiah; it was from the beginning of Isaiah 43, while today’s scripture is from a little further on in that chapter.

Those earlier verses talked about how God will be with you when you pass through the fire and the waters, and how God will keep you from being overwhelmed.

Today’s scripture uses water imagery a little differently, when it talks about the water in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert. 

It brings to mind other scripture passages that talk about water, about how God leads us beside still waters, waters good for drinking; clear, clean water. Water that quenches our thirst and gives us life.

God gives us the water, and God gives us the fruit of the earth: all that we need for nourishment.

Which is why we often say grace before meals. God has gifted us with a world filled with abundance. That abundance nourishes us and gives us life. Whether we’re eating hamburgers or buffalo wings or crops from the field, we are dependent upon the earth, and we become one with the earth everytime we eat or drink. 

And it’s easy to be aware of this connection when what we eat still bears a resemblance to its original form. An apple in our hand looks the same as an apple in the tree. A drumstick in our hand doesn’t look quite the same as the chicken it once was, but we’re still aware of the source of our food.

But a hot dog; a cheeto; a ding dong… not so much.

Now, eating hot dogs, or cheetos, or ding dongs once in a while is not a sin. If you enjoy those foods, it’s OK! 

But if our habit is to always engage in practices that do not honor our connection with the earth, with creation, then I think we will find ourselves lost in a spiritual wilderness in which there is no river or stream to quench our spiritual thirst. 

Two weeks ago, our scripture was from Isaiah 55, which began: “Ho, everyone who thirsts, come to the water, and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labor for that which does not satisfy? Listen carefully to me, and eat what is good, and delight yourselves in rich food.”

Notice how the prophet asks: “Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread? Come on, eat what is good! Eat the good stuff!”

And when the prophet says “eat the good stuff,” I don't think he’s talking about hot dogs, cheetos, and ding dongs.

I think he’s talking about good, wholesome, nourishing food. Food that tastes good, but is also good for you. Food that is good for your body as well as your soul. Food that is good for you, as well as the earth. 

Food that is good all around.

Food that makes you aware of your sacred connection with creation.

⬛ What do you do to be aware of your sacred connection with creation? What practices do you engage in, to connect with nature? 

Lent is a good time to talk about such things, because many of the practices we engage in during Lent are meant to help us reconnect: reconnect with God, reconnect with ourselves.

Too many things in our lives disconnect us from God. The food we eat can certainly be one of those things. 

In the days we have remaining in this holy season of Lent, can you think of some practices you can engage in, that will help you reconnect with nature, with creation? 

Some of you garden. You’ve been planting and tending to flowers. That’s a good practice, one that can be sacred when it helps you connect to God’s creation.

Some of you like to go for walks in nature, as I do. I’ll never understand why the fitness centers are full of people running on treadmills on days when the weather is nice, when they could be running among the flowers and trees of Constitution Trail instead. 

Some of you like to watch nature documentaries. In my house, we’ve been watching The Americas, a television series narrated by Tom Hanks. It doesn’t provide a whole lot of information, but it does feature some amazing cinematography, with a stirring, emotional musical soundtrack, all designed to help viewers feel that connection to nature.

Something else that you can do, that some of you may do, is pause for just a moment before you eat, and remember where your food came from. Remember that beef and pork, though their names have been changed, were once living creatures, and that our lives depend directly on the lives of other beings. 

Remember that the plants you eat depend on clean soil, clean water, and clean air, as well as on human labor it takes to plant and harvest them. 

Remember that they also depend on the energy of the sun, for without sunlight, photosynthesis cannot occur and plants cannot grow; remember that every bite you take contains within it the energy of the sun.

Let that moment of reflection, of remembering, make you aware of your connection to the earth, and your connection to God, the one who gives water in the wilderness, the one who makes the sun to shine and the rain to fall.

Then, as you eat, enjoy your meal. Be aware of the taste. Savor it. “Delight in the rich food,” as Isaiah says. 

Sometimes I eat my meals in such a state of distraction, that I don’t actually taste what’s going into my mouth. My mind is focused on other things. And when I’m finished with my meal, I look down at my empty plate and I think, “Huh. I bet that tasted good…”

Is such mindlessness any way to thank the God who gave you that food?

Enjoy the taste of the food. Delight in it. Be mindful as you eat.

And then: knowing where your food comes from, commit to doing all you can to protect the earth, to protect the climate, to protect the soil, water, and air. 

Only when we learn to protect the earth can it be said that we, along with the jackals and the ostriches, are truly honoring the God of creation.

Green Pastures and Still Waters (Psalm 23)

 Sermon: “Green Pastures & Still Waters”

Psalm 23 is one of the lectionary scriptures for today; and since today is also the Sunday before Earth Day, my attention was drawn to the reference in the psalm to green pastures and still waters. It’s an image of peace and calm and assurance, and it comes from the beauty of creation.

There is so much beauty in creation, and so much that is awe-inspiring…

➤Two weeks ago, when Camp Walter Scott invited Disciples in our region to go down there and view the total solar eclipse, a small group of us from First Christian Church did just that. We joined with about 100 others, most of us on the meadow, and watched as the moon passed in front of the sun, completely blocking its light and warmth. At that moment, we couldn’t help but feel a particular connection to God’s created universe.

I was watching the eclipse, but I was also watching the amazement on the faces of those around me. Even though we all knew exactly what to expect, actually experiencing the moon’s shadow passing over us, plunging us into complete darkness for a few minutes, touched many of us on an emotional, spiritual level that no description can adequately convey. 

It reminded me of the middle school boy I mentioned in a previous sermon, who went to church camp for the first time and couldn’t believe how many stars he could see, away from the city lights. All he could say was, “Man! Think of all those kids back home in the city who have never seen this!”

➤And I remember last year at science camp at Catalina Island, watching the kids stand on the rock jetty, exploring tide pools, utterly fascinated by the crabs and eels and squid and anemones and other creatures they were able to see there. 

There was this one kid who, after everyone had left, stayed out on the rocks, just watching the crabs, watching how they move, how they hide and emerge out of the rocky crevasses; He took such great delight in watching these crabs, and he would have stayed there all afternoon, I think, except that the tide was coming in, and the waves would soon be crashing over him if he didn’t retreat back to higher ground.

It all makes even a ten or eleven year old child philosophical, pondering our role in the universe. What part do humans play in all this? 

We are not separate from creation. We are part of it. Like every other part of creation, we are all connected. The same God who made the stars and the planets and the creatures of the sea, also made you and me. The same God who set in motion the sun and moon, and the tides, breathes life into you and me.

In Psalm 8, there is a verse in which someone is praying to God, and is blown away by all this. That person says to God: “When I look up at your skies, at what your fingers made—the moon and the stars that you set firmly in place—what are human beings that you think about them; what are human beings that you pay attention to them?”

Many writers of scripture are aware of this connection to creation… like the one who wrote Psalm 23, who presented that image of  green pastures and still waters, gently flowing waters, good for drinking, for quenching the thirst of all God’s creatures.

And in Psalm 23, with its reference to God as our shepherd, we have an image of humanity and nature working together: caring for sheep, animals of God’s creation, in a way that benefits both humans and animals.

It reminds me of the many ways different species of plants and animals do, in fact, work together for their mutual benefit. 

I know that the science of evolution emphasizes the competition and the survival of the fittest, and that is a part of what is true about God’s creation. But often overlooked are the ways that different species actually cooperate rather than compete.

➤Not long ago I was listening to a podcast that talked about traditional knowledge of the Tlingit people in the Pacific Northwest. The Tlingit were aware that, as salmon migrate up the rivers, bears and wolves would grab salmon out of the river and carry them into the forest to eat them… The thing is, bears and wolves aren’t always tidy when they eat; they don’t dab their mouths with a napkin; they’re kind of messy… And some of the bones and some little pieces of the fish fall into the soil…

And those salmon remains decay; and as they do, nutrients from the salmon make their way into the soil; they become fertilizer for the trees… 

As a result, those trees grow bigger, and they provide more shade. That shade, in turn, keeps the sun off of the stream, and helps keep the water in the streams colder and more habitable for the salmon, helping the salmon to thrive. 

In this way, the wolves and the bears, and the salmon, and the trees, and the streams, all work together to create a healthier environment, an environment where life can flourish.

And the Tlingit incorporated knowledge like this into their own fishing practices, working to maintain the balance, to preserve the forest, to not overharvest the salmon,... so that the life of the ecosystem would continue to thrive for many generations to come. 

When I first heard this, I was struck by the beauty. You know that feeling you get when you behold true beauty? Your attention becomes captivated, your emotions swell? (It’s like the delight of that kid looking at the crabs.) That’s what I was feeling, listening to this podcast, how the salmon and wolves and  bears and trees and streams all worked together to create and sustain a healthy environment, and how the Tlingit recognized these connections, and incorporated that wisdom into their own practices, for the benefit of all, for the benefit of creation.

It’s humans “joining with all nature in manifold witness to God's great faithfulness, mercy, and love…”

When we work with creation like this, we are able to maintain a world filled with green, healthy pastures, and clear, gently-flowing, life-giving waters.

Unfortunately, that wisdom and beauty are lost on a great many people today. We have not honored the balance that exists, and must be maintained, between humans, plants, and animals, and the earth. We have taken for granted the pastures and the streams; we’ve tried to profit off of them, exploiting natural resources for our own selfish gain; and, as a result, all of creation is suffering.

Everything we have comes from the earth. These wooden pews and wooden pulpit were once part of a forest of trees. I, for one, am grateful for these pews, this pulpit, this building with these magnificent wooden beams and trusses…I’m not saying we shouldn’t ever use natural resources like wood…

But I once heard someone say that if you’re going to cut down a tree, what you use that tree for should be just as magnificent as the tree itself. 

That’s a hard thing to achieve, for what could be more magnificent than a tree? Scientists don’t even understand all the mysteries and wonders of a tree or a forest, how trees communicate with each other, how parent trees nurture younger offspring, how trees work together in masting their fruit, all of them holding back on fruit or nut production for a year or several years, then all, somehow, agreeing that this is the year that they will all produce an abundance of fruit…how trees create oxygen, and clean the water, and prevent floods, and so much more…

I don’t know that we can ever produce anything as magnificent as that.

But we can take a moment to be grateful for the wood, the paper, the oxygen, the clean water, and for everything else we get from trees. 

Is it any wonder that trees feature prominently in several scripture passages, like the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil in the garden of Eden; or the sacred oaks at Mamre; or the mighty Cedars of Lebanon…

We can be grateful, and not take such things for granted; and in that gratitude, we can vow to not waste, to not use more than we need, and to honor the incredible wonder and glory of God’s creation.

And this is true not only for trees, but for everything else; every precious resource of God’s creation.

Unfortunately, the wisdom of indigenous peoples like the Tlingit is all but lost today. In our shortsightedness, we take what we want, what can bring us the most profit, today, without concerning ourselves about what will be left for future generations. Our practices do not honor creation; our way of living does not honor the Creator.

➤But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in my study of scripture, it’s that God is always calling us to a new way. A “right path,” to use the language of Psalm 23. The opportunity is always present to break free from the cycle of overconsumption, exploitation, and destruction. 

I took this picture at our southern California Disciples camp some years ago… At church camp, youth and adults learn to break free from destructive ways of living, and experience that new, right way… At Camp Walter Scott in particular, Creation Care is an important part of what goes on there.

And we learn about following that new, right path here at church, as well… In our Wednesday small group, we recently read about Abraham and Moses, who both broke from the destructive systemic patterns of their day to follow a right path, a new way. 

It’s the way envisioned by Isaiah: a way of cooperation among all creatures. The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them.

…They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea.

It’s the way of living Jesus calls us to; that radical new way of living based on love, a way of living exemplified with compassion for all people and all of creation.

Because if we exploit, destroy, or use up creation for our own selfish gain, that hurts other people. And love does no harm to a fellow human being.

That’s why Isaiah pronounces doom on those who join house to house, who add field to field, until there is room for no one but you…

And it’s why Ezekiel says: “Is it not enough for you to feed on the good pasture, but you must tread down with your feet the rest of your pasture? When you drink of clear water, must you foul the rest with your feet? And must my sheep eat what you have trodden with your feet, and drink what you have fouled with your feet?”

Green pastures and clean, gently flowing streams of water are issues of justice, issues that God calls us to take seriously and care about very much. 

The good news is that we have all the technology we need, we have the ability. There are plenty of resources for all, if we care for them and are wise about their use.

However, we are stuck in a scarcity mindset when it comes to creation. We think there won’t be enough, that there isn’t enough, so we have to accumulate more than we need before it all runs out.

But if we understand that our God is a God of abundance, and that if we take just what we need, then we’ll never run out.

It’s like the manna in the wilderness—God told Moses to have the people gather just enough for each day. If they gathered more than they needed, the extra that they gathered would spoil. But if they took just what they needed, they would never run out. 

It’s also like how the sap in the maple trees started to run at the end of winter, when all other food sources have been depleted. For squirrels, when their cache of nuts is depleted, they can go up a maple tree, gnaw on a branch, and get enough nourishment from the now-flowing sap to last until other forms of food start appearing. 

Some indigenous people also relied on the maple trees to provide for them when all other food sources were gone, until spring brought the return of God’s abundance. In this way, nature always provides for us, but we have to honor nature in return. 

We have all the abundance we need. We just need to tap into that holy wisdom about how to use it. 

And it begins with awe and wonder. That’s why I get so happy when someone takes delight in the moon passing in front of the sun, or in seeing the colors of the flowers and blossoms change from day to day, or how a crab moves across the rock, or how a thunderstorm moves across the prairie, or really, anything else that captures your attention and makes you marvel at the magnificence of God’s creation.

Take some time to notice each little flower that opens, each little bird that sings; their glowing colors, their tiny wings; all things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small, all things wise and wonderful; in love, God made them all.

Wounded Creation (John 20:19-31)

I’ve started reading a book titled, Toward Decentering the New Testament, by Mitzi J. Smith and Yung Suk Kim. This week, I read a passage in that book that came at just the right time. 

Here’s the passage: “To read the Bible closely is to be open to reading it again and again and again. Do not assume you know everything in the text and there is nothing more to see or to know.” [Mitzi J. Smith Toward Decentering the New Testament.]

It came at just the right time, because I had been pondering how, every year, on the Sunday after Easter, we read the story of Jesus appearing to the disciples, and Thomas missing out, and Thomas insisting that he would not believe unless he could see with his own eyes and touch with his own hands the wounds of Jesus.

Every year, we have this story; and every year, pretty much, I preach on it. Normally, stories in the lectionary only appear once every three years, but this one appears every year. It seems a bit much. 

And yet: “To read the Bible closely is to be open to reading it again and again and again. Do not assume you know everything in the text and there is nothing more to see or to know.”

So, after pondering this and thinking about the sermon a bit, I started putting some ideas together, into what, I hoped, would be at least halfway decent.

Then I read an online article by Leah D. Schade. In that article, she wrote about Thomas, and the spiritual crisis he was in when all the other disciples were trying to convince him that Jesus was alive, but he himself just couldn’t believe it; and how he had to touch the wounds in order to believe.

And in the background of all this, she wrote, was the trauma Thomas had endured. Think about it: All hope for his own future as well as the world’s future were pinned on Jesus; yet Jesus had been arrested, tried and crucified.

Jesus was dead; and so were his hopes. It was devastating. And he just couldn’t get his hopes up again, just to have them dashed, again.

Leah Schade wrote about how the only thing that could ground Thomas back into reality, and bring healing, was if Jesus stood before him, and he could touch the wounds. If he could touch the wounds, then he could find healing.

Finally, Leah Schade connected Thomas’ need to touch the wounds of Jesus to find healing, to our need to touch the wounds of the earth, as a way to bring about healing for the earth and for humanity.

And she mentioned how making this connection was particularly timely, given that this Sunday is also the Sunday before Earth Day.

Touch the wounds, and find healing.

It made me think of the story in the book of Numbers, where the Hebrew people were dying from poisonous snake bites—or, more accurately, venomous snake bites. I don’t know why the translators chose the word poisonous; snakes aren’t poisonous, they’re venomous…

…and the Hebrew people were dying from venomous snake bites, until Moses made a snake of bronze and put it on a pole, and the people could then look to the snake on the pole in order to be healed from their own snake bites. 

And I thought, isn’t that, in its own way, just like “touching the wound” to find healing? They had to look at the cause of their trauma, in order to begin the healing process.

Thomas needed to see and touch the source of his trauma. He needed to see and touch the wounds of Jesus, in order to believe and find healing.

According to the article by Leah Schade, this is the time when we might find it helpful to touch the earth’s wounds—wounds which we have inflicted upon the earth—in order to find healing for ourselves, for the earth, and all that lives upon the earth. After all, the resurrection isn’t just a promise made to us; it’s a promise made to all of creation. All of creation breathes new life in our risen Christ.

It just so happens that, in these past few weeks, I have been learning more about creation’s wounds, and its healing. Since I am spending a few weeks this spring as an instructor at a science camp on Catalina Island, I’ve learned a little bit about the ecology of Catalina in particular, and what a remarkable place Catalina is, as well as some of the past and present wounds that have been inflicted on the island’s ecology, and some of the healing that has taken place.

And if it’s alright with you, I want to share some of what I’ve learned. (And also, I need the practice, since my first camp session with students starts in two days.)

Catalina is one of earth's most unique places. It’s unique in many of the same ways that the Galapagos Islands are unique.

 Since it first formed about five million years ago, Catalina has never been connected to the mainland, despite being just twenty miles off the coast at Palos Verdes. 

This means that many of the plant and animal species that exist on Catalina are unique, found nowhere else in the world. Trees, like the Catalina Island Ironwood and the Catalina Island Mahogany, for example, only grow naturally on Catalina Island. The same is true for some animal species, like the Catalina Island Fox.

Other animals and plants that do exist on the mainland grow differently on Catalina. Prey, like squirrels, grow bigger on Catalina, because of the lack of natural predators. And the few predators that are there, meanwhile, tend to be smaller, because of the limited space.

This is all because of evolution.

Humans have also made an impact on Catalina. The Tongva have lived there for 7,000 years or more, and it was thought that the island foxes that live on Catalina today were descended from gray foxes brought over to the island by the Tongva. Over the millennia, the foxes not only grew smaller, but eventually evolved into a unique species.

About twenty years ago, the Catalina island foxes almost went extinct. A raccoon that stowed away on a boat brought to Catalina a disease that killed most of the Catalina Island foxes. In the late 90s, there were fewer than 100 foxes left. 

That is one of the wounds I’m talking about.

But a group of scientists and biologists worked to care for the remaining foxes, and today the population of island foxes is up to over 1,800. And we can see them, sometimes, at the camp I’m working at.

That’s the healing I’m talking about.

If we look at the wounds and touch the wounds, we can bring about the healing that this world needs.

The first week I spent at this science camp—it was our training week, when I got certified as a lifeguard and when I learned a lot of these things—I saw, that week, on two different occasions, a bald eagle flying over the camp.

Have you ever seen a bald eagle in the wild? It’s so exciting, for a number of reasons.

One, it’s our national bird.

Two, they are so beautiful and graceful when they fly.

Three, until just recently, it was extremely rare to see a bald eagle in the wild, because there were so few of them.

You probably know that bald eagles in this country came close to extinction. In 1963, there were only 417 nesting pairs of bald eagles in the United States. This was largely due to the use of DDT. DDT got into the water, fish ate the DDT, the eagles ate the fish, and ingested that DDT, which caused their eggs to be fragile, with shells that would break before they could hatch. 

To prevent extinction, we had to first look at and touch the wound. We had to confront the use of DDT, get it banned, and educate people about how destructive it is to life.

Then, the healing could begin. On Catalina Island and elsewhere, groups of scientists worked with the eagles. One of the things they would do is replace the eggs with fake eggs, then raise the real eggs in incubators where they could protect their fragile shells. Then, when the eggs hatched, the fake eggs were replaced with the eaglets, and the new parents would raise them.

And that’s how we saved the bald eagles. That’s how we brought healing to the earth. Today, instead of just 417 nesting pairs, there are over 70,000 nesting pairs throughout the United States, and a total population of over 300,000.

And I’ve been fortunate enough to see bald eagles on Catalina Island, at a boy scout camp in Oregon, and at Green Valley Lake in the San Bernardino Mountains.

But the threats still remain. Deep in the ocean between Catalina and Palos Verdes, there is a giant dumping ground where hundreds of thousands of barrels of DDT and other dangerous chemicals were dumped. 

They’re still there, these barrels; and they are in danger of leaking or breaking apart. And because they are so deep—about 3,000 feet deep—and so fragile, it is difficult and costly to remove them safely, and there are currently no plans to do so that I’m aware of.

And we know that there are even bigger wounds, wounds that haven’t even yet begun to heal, wounds that are still being made worse. Some of the biggest wounds are caused by our addiction to fossil fuels. And healing won’t begin until we look those wounds in the eye (so to speak), and see them… see the damage that is being done…see how we continue to make those wounds deeper and more deadly by our actions and our inaction.

And then, it will take a huge, global effort to begin the healing. This is the work of governments and corporations—the empire—and the empire has an atrocious track record when it comes to environmental protection. The empire has developed and maintained an economy where nature is only valued if it can be commodified, sold, and profited from. 

In other words, trees (for example) only have value when they are cut down and sold, according to our economic system.

That’s called idolatry, by the way; ascribing ultimate importance, ultimate allegiance to the ability to make a profit…

To bring about true healing for the earth, we need to reshape our economy, and how we calculate what has value and what does not, which won’t be easy.

So it’s tempting to give up hope that this planet will ever experience the type of healing that is needed.

But if Jesus can be resurrected to new life, then new life is also possible for this good earth. Jane Goodall talks about this all the time. Have you ever listened to her? Her talks are full of lament for what humans have done to the earth, but she is also so full of hope, because of the healing that has already taken place through the efforts of so many, and the potential and the possibility that even greater healing will take place in the future.

And as far as I’m concerned, this is a deeply theological issue. God created the earth, and all that lives in it, and God pronounced it all good. And then God created humans, out of the dust of the earth, and gave humans the responsibility to care for creation.

This belief, that humans were created out of the dust of the earth, connects us to the Tongva, the original inhabitants of this region. Their very name—Tongva—means, “people of the earth,” and they have been caring for this land for over 7,000 years.

God calls us to join them and all of humanity in caring for this land. God calls us to repent from our destructive ways, and change how we view this beautiful, good creation. 

We can do it, if we look at the wounds our current way of figuring things causes, and if we change our ways so that healing can occur.

And it won’t just be the forests, or the foxes, or the eagles, that will be healed. Our souls will find healing, too. Because we are connected. All parts of God’s creation are connected. What we do to the earth, we do to ourselves. 

Let’s look at the wounds, and let the healing begin.