Rev. Eugene N. Nelson, Jr.
The Community Church of Sebastopol
April 20, 2008
Psalm 8 and 65
In his book, The Outermost House, Henry Beston reflects on the relationship between the human and non-human, with these words: "We need another and a wiser and perhaps a more mystical concept of animals. Remote from universal nature, living by complicated artifice, man surveys the creature through the glass of his knowledge and sees the whole image in distortion. We patronize them for their incompleteness, for their tragic fate of having taken form so far below ourselves. And therein we err, and greatly err. For the animal shall not be measured by the human. In a world older, more complete than ours they move finished and complete, gifted with extensions of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren, they are not underlings; they are other nations; caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendor and travail of the earth." Imagine that...an animal, not something to be exploited by us, but rather a fellow traveler with us, with an equal right to be here, with an equal claim on creation. Could it be that all God's creatures really do have a God-given place in the choir? And I wonder if there might not be a few more salmon in the Sacramento River these days if we had simply recognized and respected that fact.
Then there are these words from pastor and author, Eugene Peterson, "I wake up each morning to a world I did not make. How do you get here? How did I get here? I open my eyes and see an 'old bowling ball sun' careen over the horizon. I wriggle my toes. A mockingbird takes off and improvises on themes set down by robins and wrens. I marvel at the intricacies...There's so much here - around, below, inside, outside. Even with the help of scientists and poets, I can account for very little of it. I notice one thing, then another. I explore the neighborhood. I try one street, then another. I look through telescopes and into microscopes, curious and fascinated by the endless proliferation of unadulterated 'Is-ness' - color and shape and texture and sound...How did this happen? And why this? Why anything at all? Why not nothing at all? Is wonder-induced gratitude the most fundamental of human responses, the emotion most congruent with life?" Wonder-induced gratitude...I like that.
Oh Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth
When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers
The moon and the stars you've established;
What are human beings that you are mindful of them,
Mortals that you care for them?"
You crown the year with your bounty;
Your wagon tracks overflow with richness.
The pastures of the wilderness overflow,
The hills gird themselves with joy,
The meadows gird themselves with flocks,
The valleys deck themselves with grain,
They shout and sing together for joy.
Wonder-induced gratitude. I'm aware that today, as we reflect on God's good earth and our responsibility to the earth, there are any number of sermons that could be preached. I could talk about global warming, quote scientists, show clips of Al Gore's film. I could point out the terrible speed at which the ice of Greenland is melting, show pictures of starving polar bears, point out that we need to cut carbon emissions by 80% by the year 2050 or our grandchildren and their children will find themselves living on a much different planet. And to say that doesn't even take into account the explosive growth in China and India and the building of literally hundreds of coal-fired power plants that fuel that growth. I could say that any politician who insists we need to be politically realistic, not move too fast, better wait for more data is, in fact, being scientifically unrealistic, if not totally and recklessly ignorant. In the words of Bill McKibben, who has researched and written extensively on this topic, "When it comes to climate change we need - and quickly - a movement. We need a movement as urgent, as morally committed, as willing to sacrifice, as creative, as passionate, as the civil rights movement was a generation ago." We ain't getting that from Washington. It's going to have to start in places like this, with people like us. Yeah, I could preach that sermon; I think I've already started. It's right there on the tip of my tongue.
But instead, I would like to go back to Henry Beston, Gene Peterson and the Psalmist. I want to return to their sense of wonder and awe and gratitude at the miracle of it all. "What are human beings that you are mindful of them? Why is there anything at all and not nothing at all?" Because without that sense of wonder, of appreciation, of amazement at having been invited with all creation to the great banquet of life - without that - I'm not really sure we can save ourselves from ourselves.
In Genesis 1 and 2, the creator God repeatedly declares that creation is good. And when I read the wonderful poetry of Genesis - and the Psalms - what I read is a testimony to the love of God, to the willingness of God to make and bless and love that which is other than God, including us but not only us. The divine will conceives, creates, saves and brings to fulfillment everything that is - many different communities of beings both large and small. All of nature, all of life - from the redwood tree, to the salmon, to my grandson - all infused by, empowered by, loved by, given life by God, Creator of heaven and earth.
Let's get mystical for just a moment. Julian of Norwich was an English mystic, who lived and wrote almost seven centuries ago. She once had a vision of the beloved precariousness of our planet. She described it with these words: "In this vision Jesus showed me a little thing, the size of a hazelnut, lying in the palm of my hand. And to my mind's eye, it was as round as any ball. I looked at it and thought, 'What can this be?' The answer came to me, 'It is all that is made.' I wondered how it could possibly last, it was so small. I thought it must suddenly disappear. And the answer to my mind was, 'It lasts and will last because God loves it.'"
Reflecting on that vision, author, Garrett Keizer, writes, "Julian's vision leaves me with a question, which I shall in turn leave with you. If God loves that little hazelnut-sized creation so much, then why does God put it in Julian's hands? 'God so loved the world' says a verse in the Gospel of John, 'that he gave his only begotten son...' Apparently God so loved us that he also gave us his only created earth - but to what end? That we might abuse it, forsake it, put it to a shameful death? Why does God put the thing God loves in our hands - unless God believes we might eventually make our own painful progress toward loving them as God does? Will we prove worthy of God's faith in us?"
Back to wonder-induced gratitude. Can we stay open, sensitive, aware each and every day, to the miracles all around us, to the reality that all space is holy space, all ground is holy ground and that we live in the midst of a world of living creatures - plants and animals (Let's not forget the trees. I am quite sure I have had any number of personal relationships with some trees) - plants and animals, all of whom have divinely allotted places and vocations. Thus, you see, any act to preserve the planet, protect creation, reduce my carbon footprint, becomes a sacred act a response to the great love of God for all of this.
But even as I say that, I'm aware that so much gets in the way, distracts us from this awareness, this gratitude. Somewhere along the way this expansion of awareness, this delight in what is here, reverses itself. Life gets narrowed down. The world contracts. I know, I get so preoccupied with the next deadline, the next task, the next meeting, the next sermon and worship service, I forget. We forget. And when we forget, when we forget that we are a little less than God, that we are not the creators, then the air is fouled, the water is polluted and even the relationships between people begin to break. As my UCC colleague, Steve Sterner, says, "There is a connection, I believe, between the way in which we seek peace with creation and peace with our sisters and brothers. They are all part of the same thing." I do forget, too easily and too often. But then, thankfully, something wakes me up.
No one will ever mistake Gene Nelson for a mystic, but let me share some words I wrote a few years ago after an evening on the Fall River in northeastern California. Right at dusk, after a rather slow fishing day there were eight of us on the water the river literally came alive with hundreds of large trout gorging themselves on an evening hatch of bugs. I had never seen anything like it. The water was just churning, fish everywhere, life everywhere! I finally quit fishing and just sat there and watched this spectacle unfolding before me. When I returned home I wrote this: For a few golden moments, the Fall River became for me and for all of us, a different kind of space, a transcendent space, a sacred space. It was a time for us to remove our shoes for we truly were on holy ground, or in this case, on holy water. It was a time to be silent and watch. For a few moments on the Fall River we witnessed something bigger than ourselves, something timeless and hopeful and life affirming. It had nothing to do with us, it did not need us, we humans who like to think we are so important. If anything, we were the fortunate intruders, invited to share in a marvelous moment, in a wondrous expression of this great web of life. A web of which, we were reminded, we're just a part. As each huge trout -- beautiful, healthy fish -- launched itself into the air and then crashed back into the river, I just knew God had to be smiling. For it was all, ' very good.'"
So many wonders all around us, if only we take the time to notice, to lift our eyes from our routines and our calendars and our self-preoccupations and just allow ourselves to see...to see this great miracle of which we are a part, but just a part. And when we finally do see, how can we not care, and care passionately, and passionately want to preserve and save and care for all that God has made, for all that God loves? Albert Schweitzer, who often rescued worms from sidewalks and insects that had fallen into puddles, said it better than I: "For the person who loves and shows concern for all creatures, life will become harder in every respect than it would be if one lived only for oneself. But at the same time, it will also be richer, more beautiful and happier. It will become, instead of mere living, a real experience of life." "And God saw all that God had made and, behold, it was very good!"