All Things New

According to the World Health Organization, 300,000 will die annually due to the effects of climate change by the year 2030. The UN Refugee Agency warns that by mid-century 200 million refugees will be on the move because of environmental degredation. The IUCN estimates current extinction rates to be up to 1,000 times the normal background rate.

If statistics had the power to change behaviour then such sound bites would likely have us running hell bent through the streets toward some constructive environmental action -- like trading in our SUVs for Schwinns and our Happy Meals for hemp seed smoothies. But statistics, because they play on flash-in-the-pan emotions of fear and guilt, are short lived in their power to change long-term behaviour. In my experience as a Christian, it is theological truth, grounded in scripture and inculcated into life, which sustains new ways of living.

Paul’s words in Colossians have the power to change the way live in relation to creation.

 For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him [Jesus], and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. 

It’s a theological meaty passage that links creation and humanity’s redemption in the person of Jesus. Through Christ all things were created; he sustains (or holds together) all things and then through his resurrection he reconciles all things. Where might all things end? Does it stop with people? This is how I used to read it in my tract-toting days. But the radical point this passage seems to be making is that creation itself participates in redemption. Biblical scholar N.T. Wright suggests that “redemption is not simply making creation a bit better, as the optimistic evolutionist would suggest. Nor is it rescuing souls from an evil material world, as the Gnostic would say. It is the remaking of creation.”

This text then has serious implications for our motivation for caring for creation. We do not try to save the world: rather, we join in the saving work God has already begun. We become God’s co-labourers, co-operating with the Spirit in making all things new.


Author's note:  Adapted from an article I contributed to the Citizen's for Public Justice book, Living Ecological Justice: A Biblical Response to the Environmental Crisis, edited by Dr. Mishka Lysack and Karri Munn-Venn -- a great resource for churches and small groups.  Go to www.cpj.ca for more information.

A Post wherein I Ponder the Fire in My Shoulder

My shoulder hurts.

They say you should write about what you know. This is what I know: my shoulder hurts. It feels like someone lit a little fire somewhere under my left shoulder blade and the flames are licking up my neck and down my arm. I don’t know why it hurts or why it feels like a fire and not, say, a vice or a meat grinder. I’m hoping the doctor will shed light on this corporeal mystery when I see her in a few days time.

In the meantime I am icing my upper left side till its numb, taking Tylenol with codeine, mooching shoulder rubs from my husband, and wondering how in the name of all that’s good people live with chronic pain.

I’m also wondering what it means to be a spiritual, yet bodily being. (I know, big stuff. Pain does that, makes a philosopher out even the most simple minded. It also makes you a whiner, but that’s beside the present point.)

Here’s what I’ve come up with ... hold onto your hats, this is going to be good, born, as it is, out of suffering ...

We are creatures.

Dum, dum, dum!

But wait, there’s more...

We are, in fact, earthlings -- formed from the dust, as our creation narrative goes. We are simple stuff – earthen vessels -- frail, easily damaged, dependant. A little dose of pain is all it takes to realign us to this reality. A little dose of pain is all it takes to realign us to a posture of dependence on God and to a posture of solidarity with our fellow suffering earthlings.

Perhaps this explains why, in the midst of this pain, I’ve also had this deep, inexplicable sense of joy. Perhaps I’m being realigned.


Author’s note: Some of you, dear blog friends, might be worried that I have caused myself further pain by typing this wee post for your enjoyment and edification. Not at all. Happily, if I sit just so, with my computer on my lap, ice on my shoulder, and feet on the coffee table, I experience no extra pain (meaning no extra pain above the fiery pain I’m already feeling). But thanks for your concern.

Blessed be the Basset Hounds

Happy Feast of Saint Francis Day!

This is the day we celebrate the patron saint of puppies, piranhas, and pigeons (and every other winged, four and multi-footed creature!). In honor of the day I offer you this lovely poem, penned by Jan Richardson (janrichardson.com), written "in gratitude for the animals who have graced her life." So grab the closest pet at hand (or if you have no cats or dogs underfoot, go outside and look up into the bird-dotted sky) and celebrate this blessing.

Blessing the Animals

You who created them

and called them good:

bless again these creatures

who come to us

as a blessing

fashioned of fur

or feather

or fin,

formed of flesh

that breathes with

your own breath,

that you have made

from sheer delight,

that you have given

in dazzling variety.

Bless them

who curl themselves

around our hearts

who twine themselves

through our days

who companion us

in our labor

who call us

to come and play.

Bless them

who will never be

entirely tamed

and so remind us

that you love

what is wild,

that you rejoice

in what lives close

to the earth,

that your heart beats

in the heart of these creatures

you have entrusted

to our care.