Ecological Theology – a paper I wrote as part of my Masters

Introduction

             In this paper, I will look at the responses it is possible to make to the environmental crisis. I will argue that it arises from a profound alienation or disenchantment from creation. I will look at some of the theological responses we can make, and arrive at some interim conclusions. These conclusions will then be taken back to the scriptures to see if they are supported there. Finally I will look at some suggestions to enable us to re-enchant creation, to enable us to be inspired to respond adequately to the world around us.

Setting the Scene

 Authorship

I have become more and more convinced that in order to enter into theological dialogue, it is vital to know what perspective the other is arguing from. I grew up in a Christian home, was part of the Church of Scotland (the national presbyterian church) and was converted through Scripture Union at a camp in the highlands of Scotland. I studied genetics at the University of Glasgow, before being called to ministry. I trained, and worked as an assistant minister and youth worker in Scotland before migrating to Australia. Here, I also worked as an assistant minister, and lived in a house with, for the first time, a garden. I have lived in cities all my life and love technology.

It seemed to me that the church I was working in was trying to preserve a transplanted form of Christianity which I felt had limited relevance to the Australian situation. It did not seem to be planted deep in the Australian soil reflecting the thoughts of Rev Oscar Hopkins in Peter Carey’s Oscar and Lucinda:

“Sydney was a blinding place. It made him squint. The stories of the gospel lay across the harsh landscape like sheets of newspaper on a polished floor. They sild, slipped, did not connect to anything beneath them.”[1]

I wondered where an authentic spirituality was to be found. It was only during a trip into the Centre that I began to feel the Spirit of God in the land, in the vastly old landscapes which dwarfed the human imagination and the age old nomadic culture of the indigenous people. It is from that experience that this paper is motivated.

The environmental crisis

It seems almost without dispute[2] that the world is facing an environmental crisis. Although awareness of the extent of this environmental crisis varies from person to person, and from country to country, scientific evidence would seem to be in broad agreement that there are major problems in the environment which will become more serious. Deforestation, ozone layer depreciation, rising salinity levels, species endangered or becoming extinct are all symptoms of a crisis in the way we treat our planet. The increasing population of the Earth is putting more and more strain on food resources, with land being cleared for agriculture in spite of warnings of the long-term consequences. More recently the global scientific consensus that ‘greenhouse gases’ are accumulating in the atmosphere causing the overall global temperature to rise, have caused dire predictions of rising sea levels, increasing hurricanes and potential catastrophe. Given this crisis, there are a variety of responses we can make.

Denial

We can deny that such a crisis exists, and presume, or hope, that the scientists and environmentalists who are painting such a black picture are wrong. This seems to be a prevailing response to global warming. For example, a survey by the Pew Research Center shows that only 49% of Americans believe that the earth is getting warmer due to human activity.[3] There are various reasons why this might be so, not least of which is energy companies’ propaganda and their funding of research to refute the global scientific consensus. However there are also theological issues. For some the lines between politics and religion are blurred to the extent that to be ‘liberal’ in one is a synonymous with being ‘liberal’ in the other, and both are regarded as beyond the pale. For example, Conservapedia even describes global warming as a ‘liberal hoax’ and says “Liberals have used this theory of man-made global warming to justify demands for a more powerful government”.[4] For others the objections have a more explicitly theological bent. Senator John Shimkus (who wanted to become chair of the US House Energy Committee) quoted Genesis 8:22 in support of his belief that

‘The earth will end only when God declares its time to be over. Man will not destroy this earth. This earth will not be destroyed by a flood.’[5]

Since God is in control, therefore there is no need for action. [6] For Cardinal George Pell the issue is more deeply theological. He sees the issue as going beyond simple scientific evidence, seeing it as a conflict between religion and a substitute for religion. He is deeply suspicious of the ‘anti-human claims of the “Deep Greens”’[7], accusing environmentalists of a ‘pagan emptiness’, and claiming that ‘for any public  figure to question the basis of what amounts to a green fundamentalist faith is tantamount to heresy’[8].

However this approach is fraught with danger. If any of the prophecies of future environmental catastrophe are in any way right, then the consequences of inaction are so dire that actions must be taken. Given the possible potential outcome it is not adequate, indeed is reckless, to simply quote the Latin maxim in dubio non agitir (don’t act when in doubt) [9] in defence.[10] It discounts the future, in allowing short term gain, even though the cost might be immense in the future.[11]

Technology and Individual Action

Perhaps one of the most common responses in the West is to put our trust in technology. Just as technology and science has helped our human condition with advances in medical science, labour-saving devices, communications and transport, so too will technology deliver answers to the environmental problems we face. There is truth in this response, in that technology will undoubtably come up with solutions to certain and specific problems, but there is no guarantee that any such technological solutions will be sufficient. Furthermore, it is shifting responsibility for the solutions onto ‘someone else’, with no responsibility taken for our part in the problem.

For many, there is the practical and emotional response. We recycle our rubbish, wear a ribbon on World Environment Day, weep over pictures of seal cubs being clubbed to death, or of a particularly beautiful place being destroyed by ‘development’. Some become more active through organisations such as Greenpeace or the Worldwide Fund for Nature. While welcoming these reactions and activities, they only scratch the surface of the problem, in some cases only functioning to assuage the guilt we feel at environmental degradation. What is needed is a philosophical or theological response. I believe that the root of the problem is to do with our underlying attitude to nature. We have treated the world as a resource, to be used and exploited by right. We believe that we are the most important creatures on the planet, indeed are somehow separate from the rest of the universe. So, in order to address this environmental crisis, we need to re-examine our theological assumptions, and make a considered theological response. That response must be consistent with what we know of God, but it must also have the capacity to change the way we think about the world, and to inspire us to action.

First, we must look at possible reasons why the crisis has been allowed to develop. I believe that it is symptomatic of a general desacralisation or disenchantment with nature. As humanity, particularly western humanity, has looked to science and technology for answers, we have lost touch with the land on which we live. Even Christians, who believe in a God who ‘took flesh and lived among us’ have lost touch with the creation they say they believe in.

Disenchantment with the Earth

Christianity is a fundamentally incarnational religion. Orthodox belief states that God became a human being and lived among us, full of grace and truth. It believes that the Incarnate God, in the form of Jesus Christ, suffered, died and rose again, bodily. Yet Christianity has had an ambivalent relationship with the body. In the early centuries there were profound theological arguments about how God could ‘take flesh’, with the Orthodox position being established as that Jesus was fully God and fully human, yet many of the early Christians were more interested in mortifying the flesh, in ascetic practices to make the body less and less important. This dualistic goal derived primary not from Hebrew thought but Greek philosophy. Socrates talks of philosophy liberating the soul, and especially its reason, from a bodily prison. [12] So in order to live in the Spirit in was necessary to reduce or eliminate the influence of the body.  So, at a theological level, what became important was life in the Spirit, a life cut off from the world. The world was seen as, if not the place of the devil, then a place to be profoundly mistrusted. Focus was increasingly shifted from life in this world to life in the world to come. Yet, at the heart of the Christian faith is the sacramental presence of Christ in the very physical elements of water in baptism and bread and wine in the Eucharist. The problem, which is still present with us today, is how we marry the concepts of spirit and body without a radical dualism that causes us psychological and spiritual schizophrenia.

Although many peoples had found a relatively harmonious relationship with the world in which they were, and had developed a spirituality of that land and their relationship to it, there was a gradual move away from this view of nature. The experience of people of drought and flood, plague and famine in many places forced people to focus on the world to come. Particularly the experience of the Black Death in 1349 caused many to question why so many people died, why humanity was so powerless to prevent the random savage power of an unseen killer. The conclusion was that God was angry with the world, and therefore, that the world was seen as dangerous, if not actually wicked, so concentration on the life hereafter, or looking to the return of Christ, seemed more secure.[13]

The growth of towns and cities removed many from the ‘natural’ environment’. Nature came to be viewed as an unfamiliar dangerous and difficult place, something to be fought against and tamed. Now, our food comes from supermarkets, with little hint of how it was grown and harvested, killed or skinned, appearing in clean plastic packaging. Church architecture has tended to reinforce the distance from nature. The spire pointed away from the earth, up to heaven, where God lived. Windows were small, or filled with stained glass, so that the natural, outside world could not intrude. They were places of refuge from a dangerous world outside. The Harvest Festival remained virtually the only occasion to celebrate the natural world, although the produce brought into church was all domesticated, the product of agriculture, of labour. The people’s attachment to the land was gradually eroded, with practical and spiritual consequences. In a biography of his father, who farmed in a remote part of Scotland, Alasdair Maclean describes this attitude shift, even in the crofting[14] community:

“his [the crofter’s] old attachment to nature disappears, for he does not think himself behold to her. He loses the instinct underlying his Christianity, the instinct that filled his landscape with joy and fear, with awareness of the unknown. All the religion he recognises is cleansed and tidied and packaged, trapped feebly within the walls of a church or squeezed half to death between the pages of a book. Of course it does not satisfy him; his soul knows that if his mind doesn’t.”[15]

Philosophically, too, there was a fundamental shift in the way the natural world was perceived. As science developed, the world became more and more viewed as a giant machine, operating along fixed and certain laws. Cartesian philosophy focussed on the rational, thinking human being, Newtonian physics lessened the enchantment of the world. God was gradually reduced from the God who created and sustained everything to the God of the gaps to God who was the prime mover behind creation, but who was not involved in the day to day upholding of the universe, who was not touched by his creation. With the publication of On the Origin of Species, the perceived dichotomy between science and religion became so great that God was no longer necessary as an explanation of the world around us. Science was believed to either have, or be capable of providing the explanation of everything that is. Thus nature became desacralised – and so could be viewed as a resource to be exploited. Rather than God having given us responsible dominion over the earth, evolution has given us the highest place and the right to be the fittest, to survive and flourish at the expense of other species. Our authority has moved from God to humanity.

Theological Responses

Given the environmental crisis, and the alienation of many people from nature, what is our theological response? If the world is created by God, how do we have to change our theology to better reflect the extent of the crisis? If we are to be inspired to respond practically, what is the mode of that inspiration, theologically?

The starting point is to move away from an anthropocentric view of creation. If we believe that creation’s goal was humanity, that humanity is somehow special, then we will view the rest of creation as somehow lesser. We use Gen 1: 28 as an instruction to have dominion over creation – that we are somehow not part of the creation, at least in the same way. If creation is for our benefit, then we can use it as we like, and the only checks are where damaging creation damages us. In an anthropocentric view of creation, creation only has value in its relationship to humanity. I believe that this first step, away from anthropocentrism, is vital. However, we need to move further than geocentrism, that the earth is the most important factor, although this will lead to good, practical steps in ecological thinking. In theological terms, we need to move further, to theocentrism, that creation has its purpose and goal in God, not humanity, and that purpose and goal may not be apparent to us.[16] So how can we think about creation in a theocentric way? And where is God, in relation to creation?

Creation as the Body of God

Sallie McFague[17] responds with a new metaphor for God. The old metaphors for God do not fit with our contemporary understanding and must therefore be re-examined, at the least. She sees the crisis as so profound that it requires conversion – it is not enough simply to buy recycled toilet paper. Rather the way that everything – commerce, law, banking, religion, leisure – is done must change. She strongly emphasises the fact that this is a model, a metaphor, and is only a way of talking about our concept of God, rather that actually talking about God. She uses the passage in Exodus 33 where Moses is only allowed to see the back of God, for no one may see the glory of the face of God. As she says:

“The depth and the mystery of God are not available to us in this or any other model: the glory of God is only reflected in the world and then in a dim and distorted mirror. It is this dim, distorted mirror that we attempt to model.”[18]

With this proviso, she proposes the model of the universe as God’s body as a possible way of thinking about the ecological crisis. God is not over and against the universe, is not transcendent in the sense of being apart from the universe. Rather God is intimately involved in the universe as its creator, its sustainer and its final fulfilment. In this model to hurt any part of the Earth is to hurt part of the Body of God, and must therefore be sin. This is not pantheism, which states that God and the world are identical, but panentheism, in which God is in everything, and everything is in God, but God is more than that. The universe is dependent on God, although God is not dependent on the universe. We do not worship creation, as in pantheism, but rather look to experience God through and in creation. The analogy is often made of the mind and the body, God being like the mind, and creation, the body. However, I do not feel this analogy is particularly useful, as it can lead to the belief that matter is co-eternal with God[19], and can have a tendency to return us to the dualism of denigrating matter (body) at the expense of spirit (God).

The Body metaphor is particularly apt considering the doctrine of the Incarnation, and subsequent Christian thought on the nature of the church. We are quite happy to refer to the church as the Body of Christ – this is simply expanding the metaphor to the act of God’s creation.

McFague feels it important that any theology that we do must take into account our scientific understanding. This model fits in with the scientific account of the universe coming into being, and of the constitution of the universe, as currently understood. All creation is believed to have started from the one source, and we are all made up of the same atoms and subatomic particles. The genes that we have are made of the same acids as all living creatures from viruses to elephants, and the proteins they produce are closely related. We breathe the same air and inhabit the same earth. Just as in body, when one part suffers, the whole suffers – a sun spot affects our weather, forest fires in Indonesia affect breathing in surrounding countries, the fall out from a nuclear reactor in the Ukraine affects sheep in Wales.

The interconnectedness has even found a scientific hypothesis, proposed by James Lovelock – that of looking at the world as a single organism, Gaia.[20] The biotic and abiotic matter combine to keep the atmosphere stable, in the same way as a body self-regulates its internal conditions to maintain a stable environment for the internal processes of life. This hypothesis fits in well with this Body of God metaphor, but it should be emphasised that this is a scientific hypothesis, not established fact, nor the basis for earth worship. It also contrasts with the Medea hypothesis of Peter Ward in which he argues that competition rather than self-regulation is the dominant feature of life, and that life has no choice – we must either thrive by destroying others or be destroyed in turn. [21]

McFague’s model emphasises this interconnectedness of matter, and further stresses that what we do in this world matters, not only for ourselves, but also to God. It stresses that this world is important to God, and that to respond to the environmental crisis is a spiritual as well as material thing. It postulates creation as a theophany of God, as the theophany of God.

However, its problems are with sin and Christology. If the entire universe is to be seen as the Body of God, then sin can no longer be seen as something other to God. Perhaps the best analogy of how this model would accommodate sin is with cancer. When we have a cancer, it is not something alien to our bodies – that is the main problem with it. Rather, it is something of ourselves, with the same genetic make up as the rest of our cells. The problem is that the control has gone and cells are dividing when they shouldn’t, taking up vital nutrients and invading other parts of the body. They pay no attention to the needs of the rest of the body and end up devouring the body. Thus sin in the Body of God could be seen as when control goes wrong, when humans do not think of the good of the whole, greedily thinking only of themselves, either as individuals or as a species. Thus sin is potentially present in creation from the start. It is part of the risk of creation. God is not the cause of the sin, but he is present in the consequences. Just as in some cancers to remove the cancer by surgery means destroying the body, to remove sin from the Body of God might mean the end of creation.

McFague’s view of the Christ event in this model, I find less satisfying. For her, the incarnation was simply paradigmatic of what is normal – that everything is a sacrament of God. It was simply the presence of God erupting in a special, although not unique way. The story of the suffering Jesus exemplifies the concern that God has for the poor and outcast, the inclusiveness of the love of God. Jesus shows us God’s concern for those who are not the ‘fittest’, and wishes to include them in his redemption of creation. However, scientifically it runs contrary to evolution, and the survival of the fittest. Therefore, this is something outside the ‘normal’ experience of God in creation. The risen Christ is a Christian way of speaking of the hope that death is not the end. She tries to remythologise the Jesus story in saying that just as we killed God in the form of Jesus, so now we have the ability to kill God in the body of the world.[22] I feel that this underplays the importance of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth, particularly as a crucial element in the redemption of creation.

Creation as Trinitarian

Denis Edwards takes a slightly different response.[23] His Christology is much more thought out, and is the starting point for his response. He draws parallels with the Wisdom figure in the Old Testament, and the Wisdom tradition in general. Wisdom is based on everyday life – the ordinary things of this world, life embodied in the mundane. The acceptance of the Wisdom tradition as Scripture sacralises everyday life. He acknowledges the paradigm shift required to identify a female character with the male character of the historical Jesus, but this is what he believes the early church did. They did so to allow Jesus to be involved in creation, in the sustaining of that creation and in its redemption. Thus, creation is the self-communication of God, just as the Incarnation is a self-communication of God, through the same Person of the Trinity.

Using the Colossians hymn (Col 1:15-20), he draws out a number of points about Christ:[24]

–   Christ created everything and everything will find its fulfilment in him

–  in him the mystery of God’s purpose and work in creation is revealed

–    now, through him, there is a new relationship with creation

–    Christ’s bodily resurrection is a promise of bodily redemption for creation, and that death is not the last word

–    creation is intimately involved in redemption, and is not simply the stage in which it is played out.

The cross is seen as the ultimate act of divine ‘foolishness’, showing the unthinkable, unpredictable nature of the love of God for his creation.

He further goes on to look at the whole of the Trinity in relation to creation, drawing on the work of Richard of St Victor and Bonaventure. Creation reflects the nature of God as a trinity, as beings in communion with each other. The nature of the Trinity is that of profound interrelationship, marked by self-transcending love. This love is not only mutual but also between equals. This love that each Person of the Trinity has for each other is inclusive and generous, resulting in creation as an expression of that love. Creation reflects that interconnectedness yet difference of the Trinity. All beings, indeed all things are made of the same basic ‘stuff’, the same atomic and sub-atomic particles, yet each is different (witness the snowflake). And all things find their being in relationship with one another. Each creature reflects the divine, but also has value for its own sake. We do not view a creature as simply an expression of the divine, but as a creature in its own right. Each creature has a vestige of the Trinity, it has been created, it is held together in being, and it has a final purpose.

It is important to have the stresses of interconnectedness, difference and equality, as often difference without interconnectedness and equality has been used to justify notions of racial or sexual superiority.

It seems to me that this Trinitarian way has more to commend it, although it is not necessarily contrary to McFague’s model of the Body of God. God is both transcendent and immanent. To over stress the immanence of God leads to pantheism, in which God is not separate from his creation, to over stress the transcendence of God leads to deism, in which God is so distant from his creation as to be uninvolved. It is important to keep together the immanence and transcendence of God, so that creation actually matters. It is important to God, and is included in his redemption, yet God is also other than creation.

Other Voices: Feminist Theology

One of the great contributions to ecological theology comes from feminist writings. The ecological issue is seen as integral to the whole feminist debate. The domination and abuse of creation comes from the same source as the domination and abuse of women – patriarchy. The ‘male’ values of spirit and rationality have set up above the ‘female’ values of earth and irrationality. The male values separation and detachment, the female, involvement and integration, thus reflecting the dualism mentioned earlier. In other words, this dualism, this disenchantment from the natural world is primarily a male response, imposed on the female through domination.

To solve the ecological crisis it is necessary to admit that other fundamental relationships must also be addressed. Lois Daly argues that the relationships between humans and the non-human world, between human beings and God, and between human beings themselves, particularly the male-female, are all interconnected, and that it is necessary to address all these relationships simultaneously.[25] Perhaps, women are psychologically better able to understand and respond to the need for this emphasis on relationships in the healing of creation. However, it requires a transformation of both male and female attitudes for there to be true healing.[26] Furthermore, although it may be ‘feminine’ characteristics that enable healing and reintegration between human and nature, that involves both male and female. From a Jungian perspective, David Tacey argues that for this reintegration to take place all humans need to replace the dominant patriarchal ego with a more integrated feminine one – that, indeed, we need to look to the feminine face of God.[27]

Other Voices: Liberation Theology

Until the threat posed to the whole world by climate change, ecological matters have not been a matter of priority for liberation theologians. For example in a book about creation from the perspective of the poor, relations with nature only warrant one paragraph.[28] Ecology is perceived as a luxury of the rich. After all it is the industrialised world that produces 80% of the pollution affecting the earth. According to Enrique Dussel, the ecological crisis is caused by the same dominant ‘Coca-Cola culture’ that causes poverty.[29] The responsibility for action should lie with the developed countries, not be put onto the poor.

Leonardo Boff[30] is perhaps the only liberation theologian to take the environment as a serious issue. Like the feminist theologians he sees the ecological crisis as symptomatic of a deeper malaise of domination. The problem lies with the mind, and a change of mind, a conversion is necessary. The same logic that enslaves people, also enslaves the land; the same logic that sees people as resources, also sees land as a resource to be used. Boff, in an earlier work, Trinity and Society uses the idea of God as Trinity as an icon for the rest of society. Because God lives in community, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we too must live in society as community. He is happy to expand this metaphor to include the non-human world, indeed would want to expand the ‘option for the poor’ to cover the poor in the non-human world. Indeed, he turns this around and argues that the poor are the most threatened ‘species’ on the planet.[31] After all, poverty can drive the poor into entirely inappropriate environments. The charge that the poor cause environmental degradation has some truth, as they do not always have the resources or knowledge to manage, for example, land clearance. However, often they have been living in their environment for generations and have a bond with that land, which means that they want the land to be healthy. They also practice a very extreme form of recycling, for example, on the rubbish tips of Manila.

The changes in society that are needed to redress the poverty / riches balance are the same policies that are needed to help the environment – a sustainable economy, used with responsibility. However, on reading the little material available written by liberation theologians, I believe that they do view the environment as very much second to the needs of humans, particularly the poor. If it is true that the poor are those who feel the most impact of ecological degradation, then it is certainly true that they are least responsible. If there is a conflict of interest, then the poor should be given priority. The question then arises that if that priority is at the expense of the environment, which in the long term will subsequently impact the poor, how then are we to make an informed choice? The responsibility is put back squarely on those in authority in the developed nations. They must not impose environmental solutions on the ‘developing’ nations which are only in the interests of the developed nations. It is the developed countries that have contributed most to global warming, and it is they who should have the primary responsibility for action. We must put our own house in order first. It is also difficult to apply the principles of liberation theology, those of raising consciousness and the poor themselves doing theology, to the non-human world.

In our own situation, how do we deal with questions of a new tourist development in an economically depressed area which will lead to a hundred jobs, but at the expense of an ecologically precious habitat? Perhaps this is where the insights of liberation theology are helpful. In such developments those who profit most are almost certainly not the poor in that area. There is a telling quote in Paul Collins book God’s Earth in which the managing director of Western Mining accuses environmentalism of launching ‘as radical and uncompromising an attack on the entire structure of Western society as can be imagined’.[32] The true beneficiaries are often those already with wealth, power and influence. The challenge is to find ways of providing employment and protecting the environment that actually benefit those worst off.

Interim Conclusions

In responding to the environmental crisis in theological terms we are trying to refute the idea of God being over and against creation. We are trying to find a way for God to be immanent in his creation, intimately involved with it, yet preserving his transcendence. We are looking for a theological model that demands action on our part. It seems to me that if we start with the Incarnation, of God becoming part of his creation in a very real way, of God closing the distance between Creator and creation; if we acknowledge the role that the Holy Spirit is crucially involved in the upholding of creation; and if we recognise that creation has a part in God’s purpose, then we get near a theological inspiration. Whatever else we feel about the model of creation as the Body of God, it does bring home the idea that in hurting creation, we are in some way hurting God, and by helping in the healing of creation, we are serving God. To emphasise the Trinitarian nature of reality helps us not only acknowledge that God can be both immanent and transcendent, but also tells something about the way we are made and the way we function. The insights from both feminist theology and liberation theology remind us of the importance of re-examining all aspects of our lives, particularly our relationships. The way that we relate as male/female or rich/poor will find their echoes in the way we relate to the non-human world.

The Biblical Witness

However, do these ideas find any echo in the biblical witness? If God is indeed trinitarian, and intimately involved in creation, then surely there will be at least hints in scripture. Unlike Thomas Berry who believes, (perhaps somewhat tongue in cheek), that we should put the Bible back on the shelf for perhaps twenty years[33], I believe that the Biblical witness is very important. Is there evidence of God dealing with non-human creation, and that creation responding? How does humanity relate to the non-human creation? How did Jesus relate to non-human creation, and what was the extent and future of his redemptive work?

The Creation stories (Gen 1-3)

Both creation stories in Genesis quite clearly attribute the creation of the world to God. He causes creation to happen by his word, and everything is made through this action. The Priestly story (Gen 1:1 – 2:4a) has God calling all aspects of his creation ‘good’. The finished creation is described as ‘very good’. However, at first reading, humanity seems to be the crowning aspect of that creation, given ‘dominion’ over the earth, and this is how it has been traditionally read. Humanity is, uniquely, made in the image of God. This traditional view has been challenged by Jürgen Moltmann[34] who points out that the culmination of creation was the seventh day, the sabbath day of rest. This means that humanity is not the crown of creation, and puts the focus back on the creator. God does not finish his work on the sixth day with the creation of humanity; rather, his work is said to be completed on the seventh day (Gen 2:2), and then God blesses the sabbath, and rests from his work. For Moltmann, this sabbath has not yet arrived, and creation is looking forward to that rest which God promises in this creation story. Furthermore, humanity is created on the same day as the other land animals, lessening the differentiation between them. Creation is not yet finished, and is still in the dynamic creative phase to the ultimate goal of the sabbath rest.

There is also much discussion about what ‘dominion’ should mean. The Hebrew word hdr[35] literally means to tread the wine press, and is probably derived from the court language of the relationship between a king and his subjects. It is the same word used to describe the sun ‘ruling’ over the day in Gen 1:16, and so should probably be interpreted non-literally. The command seems to only apply to animals, yet from Gen 1:29, it cannot include killing those animals. Westermann believes that this statement puts human life in the context of creation. It is in creation that humanity’s purpose is to be worked out, to be those who have some kind of authority over creation. It cannot be used to justify exploitation, just as a king has authority, but should use it for the benefit of his subjects. The creator has given humanity authority, and will require an account. Perhaps a modern day parallel is in a modern democracy in which the people give authority to a set of politicians, but have the right to call them to account at an election. Feminist theology[36] stresses the relational aspect of this authority, pointing out that humanity bears the image of God before human beings are affirmed as male and female. Therefore, our image bearing, and our dominion of creation depends on both, on co-operating relationships between the male and female.[37]

The Jahwehist account of creation (Gen 2:4b-25) is earlier and reflects the reality of Israelite life. Life was a struggle to grow crops in a hostile environment, and to be able to hold the forces of the desert at bay, and to cultivate a garden was a commendable achievement. The picture of creation is that of a desert, which God waters, and plants a garden. In this garden he places a human being which he has created from the ground, breathing life into him. The man is given power over the animals by being given the right to name all the other creatures, and woman is created from a rib of the man. The creation of the man is described in terms used for making pottery, and the point is made that the man only becomes a living being through the breath of God, reminding humanity that they are made of the same stuff as the earth.[38]

The man and woman are given a task – to ’till it and keep it’ (Gen 2:16), to garden, thus establishing immediately a relationship between humanity and the creation. God is depicted as enjoying his creation by choosing to walk around the garden in the cool of the evening. In chapter 3, the relationship is changed from the seeming ease of looking after a garden to the experienced struggle to grow enough to eat in a dry land. The ground is cursed and humans would have to toil all the days of their life to get anything from it.  (Gen 3:17-19). Adam is reminded that from dust he came, and to dust he would return.

This picture of creation firmly, perhaps more firmly than the Priestly one, places humanity as part of the creation, but elevates them to the ‘gardeners’ of creation. It has been used to justify oppression of women, as the woman was second in creation, an afterthought after the animals had been found wanting in companionship by the man. Indeed Rosemary Ruether would want to see the Fall not in terms of the woman leading the man astray, but rather as a fall from matriarchy into patriarchy, from which domination of others and creation has flowed.[39] However, the male and female are re-united almost immediately becoming ‘one flesh’ in marriage, reflecting the co-operation that is needed for the care of creation, even before the ‘Fall’.

Both these accounts are firmly anthropocentric in that they deal much more fully with the question of the place of humanity in creation. They are answering the human question of ‘where did I come from?’ It would therefore be strange in answer to that question that humanity should be depicted as anything other than central. An anthropocentric question will bring forth an anthropocentric answer. However, both stories allow for modifications of the usual ‘humanity is the crown of creation’ arguments. They both place humanity firmly as part of the creation, and with responsibilities toward it. That responsibility is delegated to humans from God, and is not earned. At the very least they show that the rights of dominion are not absolute. They both want to state clearly that all created things come from God, and that he was intimately involved in the creative process. They picture God as pleased with his creation, indeed taking an active pleasure in it by walking in the garden. They are also theocentric, in that they both start from God, and picture creation as having its source and meaning in God, including humanity.

Creation in the rest of the Old Testament

Creation is further discussed in the Old Testament, primarily in the psalms. In Psalm 136, the creator of the world is identified as the same God who led the people of Israel out of Egypt. The Creator is also the Redeemer. In Psalm 104 the emphasis is on the continuing role of God in creation. Just as he ‘set the earth on its foundations’ (Ps 104.5), so also he ‘makes springs pour water into the ravines’ (Ps 104.10). This continuing provision is not just for humans, the springs are for the beasts of the fields and the birds of the air (Ps 104.11-2). All creatures have to look to God to give them food in their proper time. When God sends his spirit, they are created and renewed, and if God takes away their breath they die and return to dust. (Ps 104. 29-30). In other words all creatures are utterly dependent on God’s upholding of creation, with that work of creation continuing. Furthermore, there is no exception made for humanity. God provides wine, oil and bread for humanity, just as he provides food for the animals, and humanity is included the creatures in the sea (on ships, admittedly!). The prophecy of Amos[40] is at pains to identify the God who is angry with the people as the same God who created everything. It is the Creator who is angry with them. In the book of Jonah, God describes his own pity, not only on the innocent children, but for the animals in Nineveh too.[41]

There is little doubt that the biblical writers believed in God as Creator of the world around them. Furthermore, God was still involved in that creation, particularly with humanity who, the biblical writers believed, had some special place in that creation, even to the extent of God being able to use the whole of creation against humanity.

Ecological Disaster as Punishment for Sin

God is depicted as using ecological disaster or the threat of disaster as a punishment for sin. The most obvious example is that of the Flood in Genesis chapters 6-8. God is so displeased with his creation that he sends a flood that so inundates the land that everything and everyone is wiped out, except for those humans and animals on the ark. However, he provides a future in precisely that ark – it is not an absolute devastation. There is hope for the future of creation. Interestingly, it would seem to be the same creation renewed, not a new creation. The picture is of the plants and animals restocking the earth by natural means, not a new ‘creatio ex nihilo’.

There are also prophecies of ecological disaster as punishment for sin. In Isaiah 24:1-13, God is depicted as going to lay waste to the earth. Although the earth will suffer the consequences, it is the responsibility of the earth’s people – they have defiled the earth. This vision is interesting in that it is very universalist in scope. It is not simply the people of Israel, the people of God, but the whole people of the earth who are responsible. In Joel, an environmental disaster is depicted as coming from a locust swarm. Although this is a natural occurrence in the Middle East, it is depicted as a judgement from God for sin. Drought throughout the Old Testament is pictured as coming from God as a punishment for sin. (eg Jer 14:1-6). Even the last sentence in the Old Testament prophecies God coming and striking the land (Mal 4:6). In the New Testament, the Apocalypse of John depicts judgement on the people in terms of environmental disaster. As the bowls are poured, the seals opened, the trumpets blown, parts of the natural world are smitten, along with human inhabitants.  (It is perhaps puzzling that although links between sin and the September 11 attacks were quickly made, none seems to have been made for global warming.)

None of this should be particularly surprising. In other tribal cultures, similar beliefs would be held. Nature was viewed as awesome, mighty, unpredictable, and used by the deity / deities to punish recalcitrant peoples. God, or the gods, would naturally use this world to punish, or warn, the people. What was different about the God the people of Israel believed in was that he was not some fickle deity that needing to be appeased before doing anything. God was reliable, and to emphasise this he made promises and covenant with the people – if they obeyed his laws, he too would be reliable. However, did this include the non-human world?

Covenant, Law and Creation

What is perhaps more surprising is that there are some occasions in the Old Testament where creation is included in the promises of God, as well as the warnings. Warnings are understandable, as drought or earthquake or storm directly affects humanity, and God could be seen as punishing humanity through creation, not punishing creation as such. However, creation is included in the promise that God makes following the flood. (Gen 9:12-17) The sun and moon are included in the covenant of God in Jeremiah 33:20, and the beasts and birds in Hosea 2:18. In this passage, the covenant with the beast and birds is interesting, in that the promise is to abolish war. War, above almost any other human act, directly affects the birds and beasts, as their habitat is damaged or destroyed, and this is a reflection of that understanding. The question relevant to this paper is whether or not these are literary devices to show the extent of how serious God is about not repeating the flood, or whether they reflect an understanding of God having direct responsibility for the creation. Ezekiel 34:20-28, for example, is a covenant with sheep, but is clearly allegorical of the covenant with Israel.

Creation is also, albeit limitedly, included in the laws of the Pentateuch. The sabbath command in the Decalogue is expanded in Exodus 23:10-12 and Leviticus 25 to include not only the domestic animals, but also the land itself. The land was to lie fallow every seven years. The fiftieth year, the year of jubilee, was a reminder of the very status of the land. The people are but ‘aliens’ and God’s ‘tenants’, for the land belongs to God (Lev 25:4). These commands not only reflect good management principles of land and animals, but are significant in their justification. The people on the land are only tenants, they do not own the land, therefore they have a responsibility to the owner, the Lord God, the creator of the land. Creation is therefore affirmed in law as theocentric, as belonging to God.

Creation as Theocentric

Although the Bible can be read as essentially anthropocentric, I believe that it is profoundly theocentric. It is the record of a people and their differing responses to God. Their primary concern is with themselves, and therefore more concerned with how God views and deals with humanity. However, there is some evidence of the purpose of creation as being other than we humans can discern. The best example of this is at the end of the book of Job (chapters 38-41), in which God speaks to Job, answering his question as to what is the purpose of the bad things that have happened to him. The answer is far from anthropocentric. God replies to Job obliquely, saying are you God? Have you any idea of how to uphold creation? Do you know what it is all about? He is putting Job’s focus on God, and the inscrutability of what God intends. The purpose of creation is not for Job to know, and it certainly not completely tied up with humanity. Indeed, some of the animals are depicted as being better off far away from humanity. (Job 39:5-12) It is even possible for humans to learn from the non-human creation.

Creation in Wisdom

In the wisdom literature, the world is seen as the place of normal life. In Proverbs, the reader is invited to look at some of the non-human world for inspiration and correction. Ants, lizards, lions and leeches are held up as examples for humans to copy. (Prov 6:6; 30: 15-31). Wisdom, as we have seen is intimately involved in the creative process (Prov 8). God is profoundly present in creation. It is not possible to flee from his presence, as his spirit is everywhere (Ps 139). Humanity’s position in creation is seen as a gift of grace, unearned by right (Ps 8). These passages certainly support a more panentheist position, although God is also depicted as residing elsewhere and in specific ‘holy places’.

Holy Places – the Dwelling Place of God

God’s dwelling place is thought of as in ‘heaven’ both in the Old Testament (Deut 26:15) and in the New (‘your Father in Heaven’ in eg Luke 11:13). However, there are places on earth which are ‘holy’ or actually described as the dwelling of God. The mount of Zion is often described as holy (eg Is 65.25, Ps 2:6; Zech 3:8) and the dwelling place of God on earth. God descends on Mount Sinai, making it holy by his presence (Exodus 19). Moses meets God in the wilderness on ‘holy ground’ (Ex 3:5). Joshua meets the commander of the army of the Lord on holy ground (Josh 5:15), and Jacob dreams of the stairway to heaven at Bethel, the house of God. (Gen 28:16-17). In the later cultic tradition, the dwelling place of God was the Holy of Holies, first in the moveable tent, then in the physical temple (1 Kings 8:10-11). Thus, there is a tension about where God is. Can God dwell on earth?, as Solomon asked (1 Kings 8:27). The implication is that God cannot be limited by place. However, there were certain places in which the presence of God was more easily discerned. The important fact for this paper is that this was not limited to the cult – such places could be found outside the Sanctuary or Temple in the natural world. However, there is also a tendency to condemn such places as remnants of the Canaanite nature worship. Kings are condemned for not removing such ‘high places’ (eg 2 Kings 14:4). Indeed, most of the Old Testament writings about the non-human world, particularly the early ones, should be read with this conflict in mind.

Response of Creation

If God is to be found in creation, although not exclusively, then how does creation respond? Is it capable of response? Psalm 19 talks of the heavens declaring the glory of God in an active vocal form, and Psalm 93:3-4 has the seas telling of God’s might. In Ps 65:13 the meadows and valleys shout for joy, and in Isaiah 55:12, the mountains and hills burst into song and the trees clap their hands. In Job 31:38, it is the very land that cries out to God, not in praise, but in supplication, asking for his intervention. However, the question over these passages is whether they are simply literary devices to express how the writer felt, or whether or not there was a genuine belief in creation being able to independently praise God. In a panentheistic view of the world, it is not hard to allow this response, but whether or not it is an active praise I would doubt. Perhaps the best interpretation we can allow for these passages is the important idea that creation praises God in doing what God intended – the seas or the heavens proclaim the glory of God by simply fulfilling their divine purpose.

Jesus in the Gospels

In the life of Jesus, he had a clear relationship with creation. Many of his parables drew from the sights and sounds of the natural world around (eg Luke 6:43-44). He used to pray outside, in remote places (Luke 6:12). After his temptation in the wilderness, he is said to have been ‘with wild beasts’, which did not harm him. (Mark 1:13) His reported miracles show his power over creation. The disciples are moved to ask ‘who is this, that even the winds and waves obey him?’ after Jesus stills the storm. (Mark 4:33-41). He changed water into wine, and multiplied bread and fish. After his resurrection, he showed that his body was a physical body by eating, by allowing his disciples to touch him. (eg John 21). In John’s gospel he claims identity with the physical in some of his ‘I am’ sayings. In the Sermon on the Mount, he takes up the wisdom tradition by inviting his disciples to look at the birds of the air, the lilies of the field, and draw a theological message from them. (Mat 6:25-34) To avoid anxiety, he told his followers to look at creation, and regain a sense of perspective. This attention epistemology – the ‘self-forgetful pleasure’ we take ‘in the sheer, alien pointless independent existence of animals, birds, stones and trees’[42] – has implications for our spirituality, which we will look at later.

I believe that the significance of the picture of Jesus in the gospels lies not so much in the specific examples quoted, but rather in the whole idea of the Incarnation. God became a human being, and did not despise the human condition, did not despise the physicality of the world. The miracles, the healings, the parables all point to the importance of the physical in the theological, but God becoming part of his creation is far more important. It shows the importance of the physical to God.

The Cosmic Christ and the End Times

Romans 8:19-22 talks of the whole creation groaning in expectation of redemption through Christ. It is subject to frustration, not because of its own choice, but it too will be liberated, along with the children of God. At the very least this shows that creation is not the backdrop to salvation, but is itself in need of salvation through Christ. As we have seen earlier, Colossians 1:15-20 talks of the same cosmic work of Christ in creation. Just as all things were created through him, all things are upheld by him, and all things will be reconciled through him. Although there is debate about what ‘all things’ refers to, the parallelism with creating all things and reconciling all things convinces me that they refer to the whole of creation. However, how is this final reconciliation envisioned? Both Isaiah 65 and Revelation 21 talk of a new heavens and a new earth. Isaiah in particular talks of the reconciliation of creation, of prey with predator, of dangerous with innocent. There is to be a new earth, not simply a new heaven, and that God will dwell on earth with his people, and that the whole of creation is to be involved. The Bible that starts with a garden planted by God, finishes with a city built by God – but one with trees which produce crops – leaves for the healing of the nations. (Rev 22:2)

Biblical Conclusions

There is evidence of God being intimately involved in creation in an ongoing manner which is supportive of a panentheistic view of God. However, the evidence is not overwhelming, and cannot be regarded as conclusive in this discussion. The writers in the Bible held in tension beliefs that God was ‘up there’, the ruler of all and also ‘down here’ involved with his people. Particularly in the Old Testament the struggle was to distinguish between the pantheistic pagan worship of the peoples who lived around the people of Israel, and the reality of a God who was involved in creation. For the writers of the New Testament, they explained this in a trinitarian manner, although without explicitly referring to God as Trinity. Their struggle is reflected in our theological discussion, and it seems to me that it is perfectly permissible to allow a panentheistic, trinitarian reading of the Bible as a valid reading.

Re-enchantment – the search for an ecological spirituality

If God is to be found all around us, and not simply ‘up there’, then that will surely affect our spirituality. For us to seriously address the ecological crisis, then we need to re-enchant the land, making it a place which is important to us spiritually. Indeed, for some writers, our spirituality is dependent on landscape around us. It shapes the way that we view God. As Thomas Berry believes:

“If we lived on the moon, our mind and emotions, our speech, our imagination, our sense of the divine would all reflect the desolation of the lunar landscape.”[43]

Paul Collins echoes this concern, that if we lose the beauty of the natural world, then our spirituality will ‘shrivel up’ and we will lose the ability to experience the transcendent reality that lies behind life.[44] More positively, if the world is God’s Body, or if we believe that God is panentheistically involved in creation, then creation would seem to be a vital way of experiencing God. If creation is the primary revelation of God[45], then we would expect to be able to experience God in creation in some way. Of course, this reflects many people’s experience – whether on top of a mountain, or being awed by the emptiness and hugeness of the desert. Furthermore, many writers on the environment believe that to achieve meaningful change then a spiritual conversion of some kind is needed.[46] People’s priorities are elsewhere – with making a living, with family and friends. At best, nature is a leisure activity. The ecological crisis is a symptom of a spiritual or psychological malaise. In order to change those priorities to a more ecologically sustainable lifestyle, then a spiritual experience of God in Creation is needed.

Creation Spirituality tries to address this in a systematic way, taking as its starting point the ‘original blessing’ of creation. Matthew Fox, its most public advocate, wants us to move away from a fall / redemption picture to a picture centred on the goodness of creation. The first step in creation spirituality is to befriend creation itself.[47] Fox is explicitly panentheist[48] – creation is where God is to be found, and experienced. In creation we experience the Cosmic Christ, which for him is more important than the historical Jesus. He sees the important move in theology away from a ‘quest for the historical Jesus’ to a ‘quest for the Cosmic Christ’, although a dialectic must be maintained between the two. He sees that dialectic as a ‘dance’ away from anthropocentrism.[49] However, he does not seem to address the problem of sin and death adequately. Sin is ‘letting go’ of the things that are negative, and emptying of the self, using the example of Jesus. However, to me, this plays down the significance of the cross. It is no mere example, but accomplished something concrete and historical.

For a new spirituality to be developed both McFague and Berry argue for a new creation story as the starting point. The old stories do not measure up – they are not scientifically viable. We need to tell this new, common scientific story in a way that touches people – not simply as a scientific thesis, but with the numinous, wondrous qualities of creation. We need to use poetry and music and art to tell this story of how we are all interrelated with the rest of creation. However, in this post-modern age of relativity, how is this to be possible? It seems to me an almost impossible task. Furthermore, when the scientific account of creation changes, as it almost certainly will, we cannot allow ourselves to have our spirituality wedded to science, as that will produce the same kind of crisis as when any major new scientific advance was first proposed.

David Tacey talks about this problem in a deeper way. If we are to be more integrated with others, with creation and with ourselves then we also need to look at the crisis psychologically, and so he argues from a Jungian perspective[50]. Jung had written:

“We all need food for our psyche. It is impossible to find this sustenance in urban dwellings without a patch of green or a tree in flower; we need a relationship with nature; we need to immerse ourselves in our  surroundings.”[51]

Tacey argues that Australians are actually afraid of the sacredness of the Australian landscape, that we hide from the landscape of the Centre in the cities we build huddled next to the coast. We are satisfied with that little piece of tame nature in our garden or park. He is critical of the Australian self-consciousness, describing it as masculine and immature. He too wants conversion to a more feminine attitude to the world around us, an aligning ourselves to the landscape we are in. However, as in many migrant societies, we have tended to view the land simply as a resource, something to be ‘conquered’, a place to make money that was not possible in the ‘old country’, and we do not have deep roots in that land. Therefore we find it hard to appreciate the spirituality of place, which is so apparent in Aboriginal culture. Although he is not talking from a Christian perspective, he advocates a new religious appreciation of the land that is absolutely essential if we are to grow into a mature society. For him, the Australian landscape is a profoundly spirituality charged place. He sees hope in organised religion only if it is able to transform itself away from dogma and towards experience. He asks us to use the spiritual resources of our heritage, but in a modern way. We are not simply to ‘steal’ Aboriginal spirituality as we have stolen their land and their children, to appropriate it for ourselves. Rather we use whatever spiritual heritage we have, and allow it to be transformed in the new situation. He is arguing for a new spirituality of this land. He sees Australia as leading the world in a new spiritual awakening of this sort.

One such resource from my own cultural heritage, Celtic spirituality seems to have something to offer. The Celts had a profound sense of the presence of God in creation, present even in every day things like milking and setting the fire. They had a strong sense of the Trinity, and their communities were seen as icons of that Trinity. That everything was interconnected was symbolised in the Celtic knots, or patterns we see in illustrated manuscripts. The presence of God in creation was recognised by the placing of crosses outside – focal points for worship in the outdoors. The crosses themselves had the sun and the earth behind the cross of redemption, and were often decorated with pictures of living things.[52] This echoes aspects of Aboriginal spirituality which sees no distinction between the human and the non-human. Pieces of rock are believed to be as much ancestors of the Aboriginal people as their grandparents. All of life is spiritual and the Creator is to be found all around. As Eddie Kneebone puts it:

“I have found peace of heart – but not in a building. I was told to ‘go to church, that is where you will find God, inside the church’. I have realised that man created the buildings that he calls churches, God created the world. If I look for God then it will be in the environment that he built.”[53]

However, we cannot put old wine into new wineskins. We can no more appropriate Celtic Spirituality unaltered as we can Aboriginal spirituality. We can look to the past for ideas and inspiration, but cannot adopt it wholesale. The problem with Creation Spirituality is that it seems to only look to the ‘beautiful’ aspects of creation – that we find God in beautiful places. While I would stress absolutely that I believe that this is true, it implicitly denies spirituality in other places. History and human experience have countless examples of profound spirituality in dark situations and places with only savagery and brutality. Similarly Tacey’s view affirms the profound spirituality of Australian landscape which many have experienced. However, as most of us live in cities and as he is not proposing a ‘return to the land’, we have to search for a spirituality that allows us to live our lives here and now, in urban and rural settings.

If there is one aspect of humanity being made ‘in the image of God’ that we have not yet discussed it is that we share in God’s creativity. We are able to use the creation that God has made to make new things – technological and artistic. To deny that they can also be used in our spiritual journey is to deny a fundamental part of our being, given, I believe, by God. It is possible to experience God in a human-made structure, like a great cathedral, as much as in the glories of creation. It is possible to be profoundly spiritually moved by a piece of music as much as the song of the birds at dawn. A contemporary ecological spirituality must include all the positive aspects of creativity – God’s and ours. It must be scientifically coherent, but not wedded to every ‘wind and shift’ of scientific theory. It must take account of our spiritual heritage, but not be tied down in the past. It must allow for the experience of God in all things. And, it must inspire us to ‘conversion’, to live and act in a way that is ecologically sustainable. It must be able to ‘re-enchant’ the land – to make creation the spiritually important place it is. It must be able to stress our interconnectedness with God, with other humans, and with the whole of creation.

Conclusions

We have examined the ecological crisis from a theological, biblical and spiritual point of view. A panentheistic, trinitarian view of God seems to me to be the most helpful way of looking at God. It allows the importance of relationships, is faithful to the biblical witness, and coheres with our spiritual experience of God in creation. It is capable of inspiring us to change the way we do things, for the sake of other humans, particularly the poor; for the sake of creation at risk; and for the sake of God who made it all and will bring it to whatever purpose he has for it. It allows us to develop a new spirituality for the ecological, postmodern age, that will speak to us of our responsibility for creation – a responsibility given to us by God, and for which he will demand an account. It allows us to re-enchant the whole of creation, as the locus in which God is to be experienced. It allows ecological action to be a spiritual act in which we worship the God who is to be found all around us – trinitarian, immanent and transcendent.

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