OK, the title sounds flippant, but the issue is heavy. Last evening I attended an inspiring presentation at Shepherd of the Hill Presbyterian Church in Chaska, part of the series: “Toward a Sustainable Abundance.” The presenter was Pastor and Theologian Gwin Pratt whose topic was “Holy Earth.” Discussion was active, full, and varied, representing the abilities and thoughtfulness of the wonderful people present.
The spirituality of the movement to care for the earth was the topic. As I understand his point, the earth is not just a “thing” deposited by God for us to use as we please. Rather, the earth is God and God is the earth. If you prefer a non-religious approach, the earth is Gaia, a living organism, or take the Indian approach, it lives, belonging to all of us. I am totally comfortable, indeed pleasured, by that view.
But here’s my issue. I came home agitated – so agitated that I ate too much before going to bed, therefore waking up agitated at 3:00 a.m., struggling to identify the source of my agitation. So please follow me on my quest for an explanation.
I get that the earth is alive, not an inert ball of stuff. All it takes is one earthquake and/or a tsunami to demonstrate that fact. I get that the pollution we contribute to the rivers in Minnesota ends up creating a zone of death in the Gulf of Mexico. I get that melting ice in one part of the world creates floods in others. I know that it sickens me when I see a mountain destroyed in the process of mining, not just because of the deadly effect it has on the neighborhood around it, but because it feels like the removal of a breast without anesthetic. I understand why some family and friends are vegetarians because it makes them ill to see how food animals are treated.
I also get that the earth can sometimes heal its own wounds. I saw that in 1995 on the visit to Leipzig, Germany, when we were escorted on an after-lunch walk to the top of an almost lush mini-mountain. Except for occasional detritus emerging from the grass, one wouldn’t know that it grew on the pile of remains from the WWII bombing of the city.
I also get that humans are a part of the vibrant life of the earth, along with the rest of the flora and fauna. Sorry, but sometimes I equate us to microbes fighting each other for our share of the body, and often as healers, but certainly interrelated. Just like the melting icebergs that create floods, what each of us does ultimately affects everyone else. I believe that. Why else would I have become a practicing psychologist, an enthusiast for social justice, and a part, however small, of the movement for restorative practices?
I suffer pain for people all over the world who are deprived of the opportunity to lead full lives, utilizing their strengths and reaping the just rewards. I believe there is a direct relationship between respect, or lack of it, for the earth and the condition of the folks who populate it.
When I travel, I find myself reciting a mantra, “And now he’s dead,” as I view the elegant coffins and other memorials to people who struggled to come out on top in power over the earth and ownership of its parts. Working on my memoir, I’m aware of the blessings I enjoyed in the circumscribed world in which I was raised, not only ethnically and geographically, but also in a time and culture very different from today’s. I am aware as well that my journey on earth is limited by my very humanity.
In the discussion last evening, it was clear that the situation is hugely complicated, and no one of us can solve it all, but there were wonderful suggestions, among which was returning to the land in the form of local gardens. I know this is a movement providing not only food, but also appreciation of the joys provided by communicating with mother earth. Actually, it reminded me of the successful Victory garden my childhood friend and I created and harvested when we were thirteen. It was also clear that earth and we who are a part of it can grow in health only as we band together to raise consciousness. (Hmm – a familiar term from the 70’s.)
So, what was agitating me? The speaker’s wife, if I understood her correctly, directed me toward the answer. She recognized that we are living in exciting and hopeful times, even in the midst of what seem like impossible problems.
Ah-ha! I know what caused me concern. It was probably my imagination, but I had the impression that implicit in the conversation was a sense that today’s technology was an enemy in the struggle – especially that it creates distance between people. Here’s my take on it. Technology is here to stay. It emerges from one of God’s gifts to us – the ability to understand, create, and invent. And I can list a whole bunch of sources that inspire me with the things that individual people and groups are doing with technological solutions. There’s “Ode” and “Yes,” two of my favorite magazines, and the unsolicited supply of used magazines my son contributes, like “Scientific American,” “Technology Today,” and “Discover.” I confess I don’t read his from cover to cover, but they let me know that folks are working on all kinds of ways to reduce destruction of the earth, and contribute to its healing. And even sometimes with the economic motive of making money.
I’ve learned, as the speaker’s wife was indicating, that when we live in the center of the conflict, we can’t see clearly where it’s heading. Like the 1950s when I knew the atomic bomb was going to kill me, or, true confessions, when the addition to our home in the 1960s had a fallout shelter in the basement. Ah, but that’s another story.
And let’s not leave out Pastor Pratt’s recommendations. Bill McKibben’s book, “Eaarth: Making a Life on a Tough New Planet;” (Yes, “Eaarth” is the correct spelling of his title) books by Barbara Brown Taylor; John Abraham to be speaking at St. Luke’s on March 10, 2011; and especially 350.org. (I’ve been on amazon.com, googled, and sampled all.)
OK. I think I’ve got it. Now to eat some breakfast.
