Sermons
Earth Day
April 23, 2006
The Rev. Rob McCann
Interim Rector, St. Matthew's Episcopal Church
I occasionally wear my collar on Bart as I head for Diocesan House in the City. It seems that I have the proverbial clerical "leash around the collar" that drags me into conversations with the most unlikely people.
Of course, I also know that there are innumerable others who, with one furtive glance, decide to bury themselves in the Chronicle. That can be a drag of another kind!
Inevitably, there is that one guy who really enjoys telling me what amounts to - I don't go to church. I find God in nature.
My practiced retort is - Why so do I! But why not go for all of it?
Nature experiences do take your breath away. But there is a whole other world that could be yours also! Gathering together in a faith community helps you to catch your breath again.
And that's connecting and quite consoling and quite reflective. Joining a church community helps you to gain perspective on your week and allows for worship and community support.
Another value of gathering is to be a part of a community that is "in memory of Him." Where else would you get to reflect regularly, perhaps share in the Lectionary Circles so consistently on the wisdom of Jesus?
By this time that guy wishes that he had not blurted out his un-original comment.
But there is more to this story of God in nature that should not be neglected. I'm reminded of a wonderful Franciscan friar of our Diocese. He has a quaint, wonderful style of preaching. I remember asking a parishioner when I had returned from my vacation how Brother Robert's sermon went. "Which one?" was his reply. "He preached two."
The parishioner went on to say - "He went for 12 minutes in one clear direction. I thought that he was on the road to finishing. Then he came up with, what I understand as his trademark. The first sermon was - 'on the one hand.' The second part came about with -'But on the other hand'"
Who says that the semi-colon doesn't "live on the hearts of men?" Remember that shadowy comment from yesteryear.
Well I'd like to borrow his style this morning - by saying: But 'on the other hand' with a concentration on nature as a remarkable way toward God.
Earth Day was celebrated yesterday in the wider community. Interestingly, it was not the project of the church, as such. But it should and could have been. If anyone should be promoted the beauty of the earth, it's Christian for whom the two Creation stories in Genesis form the bulwark of our faith.
Think of how often we sing and celebrate the God of Creation in our liturgy and prayers. Every time! In fact during this Eastertide we will be using Eucharistic Prayer C, which a few of the wags have quietly renamed the Star Trek Canon.
There is a certain book that comes to mind, one that has influenced me immensely on the subject of the sacredness of the earth. It is entitled The Dream of the Earth by Thomas Berry, geologist and theologian. Some call him a "geo-logian."
Berry goes one step beyond the traditional Christian thinking of stewardship when he says that we need a new lens, a new way of looking at the world and of seeing how we relate and are related to that world.
He even makes the strong point that our stewardship of creation as a phrase and as a concept is not an adequate response. Berry suggests a real change of heart and mind and vocabulary. That "the human" is less a being on the earth or in the universe than a dimension of the earth and indeed of the universe itself.
The lack, perhaps, loss of this sensitivity creates the license to do boldly whatever we want to the environment, for we feel that we are in full charge of creation, that everything was made for us.
Sadly that kind of attitude get exemplified in occasional abusive behavior. We think of small and immediate gain to the earth's detriment - and, to the great loss for our children and grandchildren.
I fear that we have bought too literally the human dominant-aspect of the poetic six-day creation story, namely, that we have bought the master role instead of taking our place within the circle of all creation. Our real role is so much more demanding - reminiscent of a kind of Hypocratic Oath - 'Do no harm to the earth.'
I find it disconcerting that, as a church, we pray endlessly to the God of Creation, yet are so unmindful of the fuller sense of the stewardship of all creation.
Didn't you feel a bit of nausea over the story of the benighted gentleman, reported this past week, who just bought a pharaonic mausoleum because he thought too much of himself, didn't want to be forgotten for all he had accomplished, and couldn't imagine having all that dirt heaped on top of him?
Only when we have a sound theology of creation, with its natural processes, can we embrace the idea of our own cycle of life and death.
Berry suggests that we are "a people between stories."
- That in our eagerness to seal a theology of an afterlife, we have left aside this planet earth our island home and
have failed to be open to what is around us as "a deep mode of the divine presence." God is to be found in so many
places. God reaches out to us in so many ways.
- That the old way of recounting who we are is inadequate to the newer
scientific data and the re-emerging creation spirituality.
- Berry, as every true mystic in every faithful tradition, spells out "the new creation story" as an understanding of the universe alive and filled with grace and the presence of God - expressed in a way that is both psychic-spiritual and material-physical.
And then when we come to pray we will begin to hear the depth in the traditional words of our faith, expressed in the Nicene Creed, - "seen and unseen" we begin to understand that there is more out there and in here than we had ever imagined.
We ought to come alive not only to what we stand right in front of - but also to come alive to that which is not readily discernible, but just as really there.
Berry suggests - "We have lost our sense of courtesy toward the earth and the inherent sacred character of habitat, our capacity for the awesome, for the numinous quality of every earthly reality."
As a result the earth for some is not really considered holy ground. The loss of this kind of sensitivity creates the license to do whatever we want to the environment, often for the sake of immediate profit or greedy gain. So it's not only what happens to the earth - but what happens to us personally.
What is so wonderful about being aware of other faiths and other traditions is that there is often a spiritual commonality expressed in different words or images.
Hear the spiritual message of John Muir -
Hear the spiritual message of the Amish -
Hear the spiritual message of Chief Seattle -
Hear the spiritual message of Fr. Berry -
Hear the spiritual message of Jesus -
Think about how the lilies grow: they neither toil nor spin.
How important it is to live our lives widely. The same important thoughts and ideas come to us from God through a variety of traditions. If you are looking for a word that replicates itself in three of the major religions - think shalom; salaam; peace. It's more than mere quietude. It's more than simple greeting. It speaks of wholeness. It's that 'peace that passes all understanding.'
Let us pray -
O God of grace and glory, we thank you for presenting yourself to us in so many ways - through Word, Sacrament, and the so-accessible beauty of nature.
May our surrounding environment continue to move us to see that all we have has been given us - and then is to be left for the endless procession of others who are to come. This we ask of the Lord of the Dance who is constantly revealing the universe created in love for all creatures.
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