When Mountains Quake and Birds Flee (Jeremiah 4 & 5)

 Some days, it is so hard to have hope when you consider the future of our planet, and the climate crisis we are currently in.

I know it is hard to say with certainty that any one specific weather event is the result of climate change, but it is clear that the increasing number of severe weather events, and the rise in intensity, is directly tied to climate change.

Just this month, we have seen catastrophic floods in so many places. The worst—at least in terms of human lives—is in the Himalayas, where the death toll from the glacier collapse and subsequent flash flood is near 1,500. But floods have also appeared in Ontario, Canada; Arizona and Utah; Washington DC; as well as many other places overseas. 

A series of hurricanes have wreaked havoc in Hawaii, which is unusual, because prevailing winds and ocean currents usually deflect or weaken most hurricanes before they get to Hawaii. The island of Kauai had its first ever tornado watch. And a hurricane off the coast of southern California sent waves and storm surges toward the California coast, destroying beaches, lowering sand levels by as much as 20 feet, and flooding homes. That, too, is rare. Very rare.

But these rare weather events are becoming less rare, because of climate change.

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Average global temperatures have risen over the past century at a rate never before seen. Throughout earth’s history, climate change has caused ice ages and warming spells, but these changes took place gradually, over thousands of years. Never has earth experienced such drastic changes in just a few decades.

And the change is only accelerating. In fact, the summer of 2026 was the hottest summer on record, and it wasn’t even close. Air temperatures and ocean temperatures have never been this high.

Which means storms will continue to get more severe and more deadly. In other places, droughts, also will become more severe. And more frequent. Which means that while some parts of the world experience more frequent flooding, others will (and already are) experiencing more frequent and intense wildfires.

And even though average temperatures are rising, in some places there will be more intense snowstorms and blizzards, due to the increased instability that climate change causes. 

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There is a whole neighborhood in Long Beach, California, that made the news a few weeks ago, because of how the ocean just swept over the beach and into the streets and into people’s homes. I’ve visited that neighborhood, and with sea levels rising, I really wonder how long that neighborhood can continue to exist. 

Fortunately, most of Long Beach… and most of California’s coastal cities… sit atop bluffs that give them some elevation over sea level.

But I wonder about cities where the entire city is low-lying. I wonder about cities like New Orleans, and many other low-lying coastal cities. As catastrophic flooding becomes more constant and more costly, at what point do we just say: we can’t keep going on like this?

And of course, it is the poor who will suffer the most. It is those who are already disadvantaged and vulnerable who will be most likely to lose their homes and their lives… which makes this an issue of justice.

When I talk to young people—people in my children’s generation, and younger—there’s a lot of hopelessness. There is a sense of doom. And dread. A growing number of young adults today are choosing to not have children, because who would want to bring a child into a world where the future looks so bleak?

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In scripture, creation itself often reacts to events that are taking place on earth. In today’s scripture, the heavens go dark. The sun, moon, stars and planets refuse to shine. 

The earth itself echoes the hopelessness that many are feeling.

And the mountains quake. And the birds flee. And the fruitful land becomes a barren wasteland. 

The prophet then talks about the sandy beaches that are a barrier that the ocean cannot cross. I guess even the prophet couldn’t have imagined what we’ve seen happen this month in southern California or in Hawaii, where the ocean has crossed over the sand, has washed the sand away—washed away entire beaches—and roared into streets and homes and neighborhoods.

And sometimes I do really feel sick when I think about the direction we are headed, how we continue to ignore the warnings of climate scientists, (how our leaders continue to ignore the warnings of climate scientists) and their predictions which are already coming true. 

We see it happening with our own eyes.

And it’s even more frustrating that we have the technology we need, that we know how to produce renewable, sustainable energy in ways that do not harm the climate…. Yet we continue on our destructive path.

There is no reason for us to continue burning fossil fuels.

Yet corporations make lots of money off of fossil fuels, and they bribe politicians so that the politicians keep us from pursuing a more sustainable path, a path that could in fact heal the earth and save countless lives.

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We forget that we humans are one with the earth. We were made from the dust of the earth. Whatever befalls the earth befalls us.

I actually think that that’s the source of a lot of our problems and self-inflicted wounds: we think we are separate, unconnected, from creation, and from each other. 

If we could remember that we are (in fact) connected to each other and to creation, that really there is no “I” apart from everyone and everything else, I think that would go a long way to healing much of the harm we have caused.

This all does seem rather hopeless. The climate is changing, and changing fast, and a changing climate leads to a whole host of other consequences. 

Agriculture will have to adapt. Economies that are built on fossil fuels will have to adjust. And the longer we wait, the harder and more painful it will be to adjust and transition. 

And as climate change affects crops and water supplies, which in turn affect food supplies and whether a given location is even liveable for humans, immigration will become an even bigger issue, as people are forced to leave regions that could once support human life, but which have become uninhabitable.

And does it really seem right that we deny immigrants rights and legal status, when our consumerist lifestyle has caused many of the problems that have made their own homelands unlivable?

Yet despite all this, I am not without hope…

When you think about it, reading about climate change is not like reading about other disasters or catastrophes. A passenger plane crashes and kills everyone on board: what can you do about it? Nothing.

But with climate change, there is something you can do. There is something we all can do. We can act.

For me, I know that I can ride my bike or walk to church.

I can avoid buying anything disposable: water bottles, decorations or party favors, bags—anything that only gets used once, then thrown away.

I can remember that the slogan “reduce, reuse, recycle,” is actually in the order of priority. Reducing is the best; if you can’t reduce, then reuse (that’s second best); and if you can’t reuse, then at least recycle.

I can keep electronics and chargers unplugged when I’m not using them, because these things still use electricity when they are plugged in, even when turned off or not being used.

I can eat lower on the food chain: more vegetables, less meat, and certainly less processed food. That’s better for the climate, and better for me. And if the vegetables are locally grown, like the ones at the farmers’ market, that’s even better.

I can vote! I can vote for politicians who will protect the climate.

I can practice gratitude. 

That may be one of the best ways to care for the planet. Because gratitude helps me be thankful for what I have, and if I am thankful for what I have, then I will feel less pressure to buy more things that I don’t really need. 

Certainly I have enough clothes. I mentioned a few weeks ago that it takes about 2,000 gallons of water to produce one pair of jeans. Many jeans also need large quantities of energy and chemicals to achieve certain colors and special effects.

Producing one pair of jeans causes about the same amount of carbon dioxide to be emitted into the atmosphere as driving a gas-powered car about 70 miles down the highway.

If I can be thankful for the jeans I have, and put off buying a new pair another few months or a year, then I have done one more thing to help protect our climate.

I also have hope because, in some regions, sustainable energy is thriving. In places like Costa Rica, Nepal, Albania, Ethiopia, Iceland and Norway, nearly all the energy produced is sustainable. 

24 U.S. states have set goals of achieving 100% sustainable energy. Illinois’ goal is to have 100% clean energy by 2050, which is only 24 years from now. No state has yet reached 100%, but some cities have, including Aspen, Colorado, and Burlington, Vermont. 

In addition to the things we humans can do to help heal our climate, I also find hope in creation itself. When I see the wildflowers appear each spring, or see the leaves turn orange in the fall…

When I hear canada geese migrating overhead, or squirrels collecting acorns to prepare for winter…

When I see how land recovers from a wildfire, or when I notice the signs of healing in nature from those devastating storms we had just one month ago,

It all makes me realize: God hasn’t yet given up on this world. And God hasn’t yet given up on us.

And to know that God is still at work, still creating, and still inspiring us to care for one another and for the earth…

What could be more hopeful than that?

Even in the midst of devastation, there is still so much beauty, and goodness. 

When the sun, moon, stars and planets refuse to shine, it’s only for a while, and only because they are hidden from our view. They’re still there, and we will see their light shine once again.

And the land that is scorched in Jeremiah is the same land that is watered and renewed in Ezekiel.

Renewal and healing are still a very real possibility, because God is gracious, and God is good, and God continues to care for creation… 

…and we’re called to care for creation as well, alongside God, bring hope and healing to the world.

Wisdom of Creation (Job 12:7-10)

 In today’s sermon, since it is “Earth Care Sunday” (Or, “Earth Stewardship Sunday”), I’m going to introduce you to some of my closest friends… and by friends, I mean some of my favorite trees.

This incense cedar tree I encountered on a hike along Vivian Creek near Mount San Gorgonio, the highest mountain in southern California. When I saw it, I literally stopped, and gasped.

My son Tristan, who was with me on that hike, probably thought: What is Dad doing? Has he never seen a tree before? 

But this tree was beautiful and magnificent. And it had been through some things, as you can tell. It was hollowed out on the inside, with black fire scars. Perhaps it had been struck by lightning at some point in its life.

I began to imagine what stories this tree could tell, and probably would tell, if I were patient enough to sit and listen. 

But trees speak very slowly, and we had a mountain to climb…

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This stunted, gnarly oak tree can be found at Disneyland in California, in the line for Big Thunder Mountain Railroad. The branches spread out more horizontally than vertically, providing lots of shade to people waiting in line to ride. 

This is one spot where I wish the line for the ride would actually move slowly, because I just want to spend some time here, tracing the branches with my eyes…

By the way, there are only two pictures today that I didn’t take myself. I found this photo online, on a Facebook page dedicated to the horticulture of Disneyland. Apparently someone else appreciates this tree as much as I do.

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Another favorite tree of mine is a giant, 150-year-old oak tree at Loch Leven, our Disciples camp in southern California. Loch Leven is located in a dry, desert-like environment; however, the camp is located where two canyon streams meet, and there, where those streams meet, are many shady trees, creating a cool oasis. 

And for many of the summers I spent there, campers could safely climb to the top of the tallest of these trees by harnessing themselves into a professionally-installed system of ropes.

There were even a few hammocks placed high in that tree. Some campers liked to hoist themselves up 40 or 50 feet off the ground, and lay in one of those hammocks. If there was a breeze, they’d feel a gentle rocking motion. Sometimes they’d just stay there, and wouldn’t come down until it was time for dinner. 

Those campers fell in love with this tree as much as I did. I’m pretty sure that, in those moments, those campers were being taught by the trees, as our scripture says.

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The toyon is a California tree so small that it is sometimes considered a bush and not a tree. This toyon is one I photographed on Catalina Island, on a hike I took one day after substitute teaching at the school there. 

When I look at this picture, one of the things it tells me is that school must have been dismissed early that day. How do I know this? Well, because toyon berries only grow in winter; and in winter, the sun sets too early for me to have time to go for a hike after school… unless school got out early.

Birds and wildlife love Toyon berries. And native Americans—the Tongva and Chumash people—made use of them as well. In fact, the name of the plant—toyon—is derived from the Ohlone language, a Native American people of Central California.

The toyon is a signature plant in southern California; so much so, that the restroom interiors at the Hollywood Bowl are painted a shade of green that was color matched to the toyon. 

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After I moved to Illinois, I was walking through Ewing Park one day, and I saw these two small trees that looked a lot like toyon. I took this picture a few weeks ago, but when I first saw these trees, it was early summer, and the branches were full of dark green leaves and bright red berries.

I learned that these trees—the ones I saw in Ewing Park—are called serviceberry. Since toyon doesn’t grow in the midwest, the serviceberry quickly became my favorite Illinois tree.

And midwestern birds love serviceberry just as much as California birds love toyon. 

A few months after I decided that serviceberry was my new favorite tree, Robin Wall Kimmerer published a book she titled… Serviceberry. So when it came out, I had to read it.

In the opening pages of that book, Kimmerer writes that “the Serviceberry supports biodiversity. It is a preferred browse of Deer and Moose, a vital source of early pollen for newly emerging insects, and host to a suite of butterfly larvae—like Tiger Swallowtails, Viceroys, Admirals, and Hairstreaks—and berry-feasting birds who rely on those calories in breeding season.

Kimmerer also writes that “Human people, too, rely on those calories, especially in traditional Indigenous food practices. Serviceberries were a critical ingredient in the making of pemmican. The dried berries, along with dried venison or bison, were pounded to a fine powder, bound with rendered fat, and solidified into the original energy bars. This highly concentrated, preserved food provided full nutritional sustenance through seasons of hunger, was easily transportable, and could be cached or carried. 

“Pemmican became part of the traditional trade economy, a sophisticated local and transcontinental network that distributed vital materials across ecosystems and cultures. Surplus Serviceberry calories could be exchanged for other goods not locally available.”

I love Kimmerer’s writing so much; it’s tempting to read her whole book to you this morning, but I’ll just share a little more.

She writes that “The leaves of the Serviceberry [like the leaves of most plants] draw carbon dioxide from the atmosphere, which they make into sugar via photosynthesis.”

I don’t know about you, but I still remember that exciting day in high school when I learned the chemical equation for photosynthesis: CO₂+H₂0+sunlight → C₆H₁₂0₆ + O₂. (I’ll leave it to you to balance that equation.) 

The sugar that photosynthesis produces in the serviceberry is stored in the berry, along with essential nutrients and minerals. Kimmerer notes that a bird (say) eats the berry, and some of that carbon becomes a beautiful, brightly colored feather. When that feather falls to the ground, it becomes food for beetles, who become food for a Vole whose death feeds the Serviceberry. 

This demonstrates that God’s creation is characterized by abundance and reciprocity (giving back); and reciprocity, borne out of gratitude, would go a long way toward making our world a better place, if only we humans learned the lesson of creation—if only we allowed ourselves to be taught by the plants—and put those lessons into practice.

Yet we often take without giving back. And we create systems in which scarcity, not abundance, governs how we think, how we act, and the economies we develop. There is no reciprocity, and no gratitude.

Data centers have been in the news a lot lately, and are a good example of what I’m talking about. 

Data centers suck up enormous amounts of energy, and enormous amounts of water. Utilities struggle to keep up with the demand, and to help finance the need for more energy and more water, they raise their rates… for everyone. WE are paying higher utility costs because of these data centers.

But that’s not all. Data centers generate a tremendous amount of heat. Some large data centers have raised the average temperature of the surrounding region by as much as six degrees. With the climate already warming due to climate change, you can see why this is a big problem.

Data centers take so much in terms of earth’s resources, but give nothing back to creation.

But I believe that we have the solutions, if not the will to implement those solutions. We have the technology and the ability. God has given us the knowledge and wisdom we need.

The companies that build data centers could, if they were motivated enough, find a way to do it without that huge, negative environmental impact. We—and our leaders in government—need to find a way to give them that motivation, and work together to undo the environmental harm we’ve caused.

It is possible! We CAN make positive environmental changes!

I’ve seen it happen.

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This is the other photo that is not mine. It shows that when I was growing up in southern California in the 1970s, the smog was terrible. Los Angeles regularly looked like it does on the left side of this photo. 

After a day of playing outside, my lungs literally hurt, and it was hard to breathe.

But then we passed the Clean Air Act, and California in particular took controlling smog seriously. 

Smog still exists, but it has gotten a lot better. Today, Los Angeles looks more like the right side of this photo.

It IS possible to create POSITIVE environmental change.

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And there are other things we can do, to actually help cool the environment. Trees have a natural cooling effect. 

In 1955, Disney imagineers planted a jungle in Anaheim, California. Now, 70 years later, that jungle has matured quite a bit, with some of the trees reaching incredible heights. And that jungle has created its own micro-climate, where the temperature is actually cooler than the surrounding city. 

Now, when I took this picture from the Jungle Cruise boat several years ago, I do wonder what the other people on the boat thought when I spent much of the ride gazing up at the trees, instead of looking at the elephants, the hippos, or the “backside of water.” 

But I know I’m not the only one. Did you know that, at Disneyland, you can walk into City Hall on Main Street, and right there under the counter, they have this massively thick binder in which every tree and plant at Disneyland is listed? The species name is listed, along with its location in the park; and any special watering needs or care instructions for that tree are also noted. And anyone can just go in and ask to look at that binder…

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At camp this summer, I’m not going to lecture the campers about all the details of all the trees in camp.

But I do hope that campers will find a tree or two that they can get to know, and learn from. A tree that they will spend some time listening to, and gain some of the wisdom that is referred to in today’s scripture.

Because trees, and all of creation, really are great teachers. 

This week, I want you to let creation teach you. And for that to happen, you need to spend some time noticing creation…. And noticing God in creation.

If you don’t know where to start, here are some things to find out through observation. Don’t look it up on google; find these things out by spending some time in creation:

1.     What is the current phase of the moon?  Approximately what time did it rise or set yesterday?

2.     What constellations – and what planets – can you see in the night sky this week?

3.     When was the last time you listened to the song of a mourning dove? (I heard one the other day… I love the song of a mourning dove!)

4.     What trees grow on your street? What do the leaves look like? What does the bark look like? What does the tree smell like? 

If you notice any of these things, then you are well on your way to receiving the wisdom of creation.

Two weeks ago, I planted two serviceberry trees in my front yard. 

I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait for berries to appear on those trees. Probably several years.

And when the berries do appear, I don’t know that I’ll eat any. I feel like I should at least try one.

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 On Catalina Island, there is a plant called “lemonadeberry,” and so naturally when I worked at a camp there, I, and the students I taught, tasted those berries… and they really were sour and sweet and tart—and sticky—just like lemonade…

Robin Wall Kimmerer says that The Potawatomi called serviceberries Bozakmin, which means “the best berry.” So maybe, when the berries appear on my trees, I’ll at least give them a try. 

But even if I don’t eat them, when I see them, I will learn from them.

I will be reminded of the things I do eat, and where those foods came from. I will ask myself if the food I eat is made from real, natural ingredients, or artificial ingredients created in a lab.

I will be reminded of the miracle that is present in every bite I take, and to offer up gratitude for the blessing of nourishment and raiment.

I will remember that the berries and all real foods are dependent on good soil and clean water. Everything I eat is dependent on good soil and clean water. 

I will remember that, since it all comes from the land, the earth, everything I eat is a gift of God. It is all precious and sacred. To take or use anything thoughtlessly is a great sin. And to buy something that is used only for a moment, and then thrown away, is an insult to God the creator.

When I see the serviceberries, I will remember how interconnected I am with all of creation, that I myself am a part of God’s creation, and that my wellbeing is dependent on the wellbeing of creation itself.

The trees have so much to teach us. Creation has so much to teach us.

And I will be reminded, as Clayton—our Camp Walter Scott caretaker always says—to “care gently for God’s creation… and that includes you.”

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.