Earth as the Original Church
A post by the Rev. Adam Bucko
From September 1 to October 4, Christians around the world embark on a journey of reflection and renewal – the Season of Creation. In this relatively recent addition to the liturgical calendar, we have the opportunity to rediscover our spiritual responsibility toward the Earth and all its inhabitants. The roots of this season can be traced back to 1989 when Ecumenical Patriarch Dimitrios I proclaimed September 1 as a day of prayer for the environment. Since then, this call has resonated across denominations, fostering a deepening awareness of the interconnection between faith and creation.
The Season of Creation is not only a recognition of our past neglect but also a call to transform our present and future. Amidst the ever-changing landscape of our world, where we often hear tales of the decline of organized religion, Christianity stands as the largest faith community worldwide. This reality places upon us both tremendous influence and an equally profound responsibility.
The gospel message from Matthew 16:21-28 speaks of the cost and nature of discipleship. It urges us to deny ourselves and follow a higher purpose, one that transcends our fleeting impulses and desires. This form of living requires continuous conversion of our hearts and minds – a reshaping of how we perceive our lives and what truly matters. So, my dear friends, as we embrace this ongoing work of conversion, we must ask ourselves: What does conversion look like in the 21st century, particularly in the context of our relationship with the Earth?
In this Season of Creation, we are called to broaden our scope of conversion. Personal piety alone can no longer suffice; we must also be responsible as a community. In a world marred by inequality, our conversion must include awareness and action for justice. In a world where our climate is turning into chaos, as this summer indicated worldwide, our conversion must also address how we relate to this devastating reality. How we practice our faith and approach prayer may need to shift in light of the pressing ecological challenges we face. We must come to terms with the fact that we cannot continue living as we have been. Failing to address this means robbing life from our children and grandchildren.
As we turn to ancient Christian wisdom, we find an invitation to embrace slowness, simplicity, and attentiveness – qualities that stand in stark contrast to the speed and consumerism that often dominate our lives. Contemplative practices provide an antidote to the distractions that have contributed to the degradation of our environment. These practices help us see creation as a tapestry woven with holiness, inviting us to participate in mending what has been torn apart. Living with such awareness makes it difficult to ignore the plight of the Earth. This kind of slower and more conscious living enables us to perceive the Earth not as a mere mechanical entity to be taken for granted, but as a living being. Ancient Christians often referred to the earth as our sibling or our mother. And if we could touch that awareness, much would need to change in how we live, for who would wish harm upon our relatives?
One way to move towards that kind of awareness, as Christine Valters Paintner encourages us to do, is to consider what it would mean to view the Earth as our original church – a place where we learn our foundational prayers. Here, we hear the morning chorus of nature, engage in the sacred liturgy of the seasons, and find guidance through their rhythms. Each element of creation – from the majestic forest to the delicate hummingbird – holds a message for us, an opportunity for deepened self-understanding and connection.
What if we began thinking and seeing this way? Could we continue with our consumerist lifestyles? Could we tolerate the fact that about 100 or so corporations, from which we all, including myself, purchase products, are responsible for 80% of pollution in our world? Would we be able to proceed as is, or would we need to pause and reconsider? Would we have to feel the pain of our choices and then take action?
And so, this season of creation is an invitation to that. It is an invitation to conversion, not solely confined to personal piety, but a communal and ecological conversion. It is an invitation to a change of heart! And we all need new hearts when it comes to repairing this hurting, wounded world. And we need each other now — as urgently as the planet needs us.
One writer once beautifully said, “Climate change portends a revolution in the relationship between nature and civilization, but this is not a revolution for the more efficient allocation of global resources in the program of endless growth. It is a revolution of love. It is to know the forests as sacred again, and the mangroves, the rivers, the mountains, and the reefs, each and every one. It is to love them for their own beingness and not merely to protect them because of their climate benefits.” (Charles Eisentein, Climate: A New Story)
So let us remember that the invitation that we are presented with today is that kind of an invitation. An invitation to see and feel differently. An invitation to be in a different kind of relationship with the earth and each other. We are called to step out of our individualistic mindset and be in community, be in love. Because love, my friends, inherently calls for a response steeped in love. It is hard not to want to defend something we love!
I wanted to conclude with a story that Rev. Otis Moss III tells about the life of the great American Black contemplative Howard Thurman:
Howard Thurman had a grandmother named Nancy Ambrose who was formally enslaved and who after gaining her freedom, through hard work managed to purchase some land in Florida. Right next to that land lived a white woman who was not so thrilled about having a black neighbor and who just couldn’t really come to terms with the fact that her property was right next to Thurman’s grandmother. So the white woman, not being able to keep it together, decided that she would show her displeasure by gathering the manure from her chicken coop and every night throwing it all over the garden that Nancy lovingly cultivated.
Each morning Nancy would get up early, see all of her plants and flowers covered with nasty and smelly manure, and without skipping a beat, she would go to the garden, remove the manure and mix it with the earth. She never complained about it or responded to the woman. She would just scrape it from her plants and mix it into the soil.
Then one day the white neighbor got quite sick. And as it turned out, she found herself alone, having alienated not only her black neighbors but the entire neighborhood with her sour and unkind attitude.
Nonetheless, Nancy started visiting her. And on one of her visits she brought this white woman a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Moved by this gesture of kindness and also overwhelmed by the beauty of the flowers she just received the neighbor asked the old black woman, “These flowers are so beautiful. Where did you get them?”
And to that Thurman’s grandmother answered: “You actually helped me grow these flowers by offering me your manure which I used as fertilizer for the earth in my garden.”
Nancy knew that, regardless of what ugliness gets thrown at us in our lives, we can always scrape it off and plant it deep into the soil. Because the earth has something of God in it. The earth absorbs and transforms violence. With the help of the earth, manure can become flowers. With the help of the earth all of our personal internal garbage can be turned into flowers. The earth heals and is healing. Some in our tradition would say that the earth, similar to the Bible, is a place of revelation where we can meet God and be instructed by God. Theologian Sallie McFague goes even further, saying that “the earth is the body of God.”
No wonder that living attuned to the earth can radically transform our spirits, just as it did Howard Thurman’s grandmother, Nancy Ambrose, who amidst a society bent on her oppression, was able to find in her heart a willingness to love.
So during this season of creation let us rediscover the right relationship with our sister mother Earth. Let us embrace a path towards an ecological conversion that can help us to wake up to the sacredness of the earth and live with reverence and responsibility.
Adapted from a sermon at the Cathedral of the Incarnation, Garden City, New York on September 3, 2023.
The Rev. Adam Bucko is Co-founder and Director of the Center for Spiritual Imagination. He has been a committed voice in the movement for the renewal of Christian Contemplative Spirituality and the growing New Monastic movement. He has taught engaged contemplative spirituality in Europe and the US. His latest book, Let Your Heartbreak Be Your Guide: Lessons in Engaged Contemplation, has won multiple awards. Adam also co-authored two books: Occupy Spirituality: A Radical Vision for a New Generation and The New Monasticism: An Interspiritual Manifesto for Contemplative Living. Committed to an integration of contemplation and just practice, he co-founded an award winning non-profit, the Reciprocity Foundation, where he spent 15 years working with homeless youth living on the streets of New York City, providing spiritual care, developing programs to end youth homelessness and articulating a vision for spiritual mentoring in a post-religious world.