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NEWS & VIEWS
Sometimes everything goes by in a gray blur as I get up for work, rush to catch my train, and don’t get home until it’s dark or nearly so. Sometimes there are muggy days when I think longingly of snow. But those clean green moments when the sun is peeking through the leaves are among those times when it’s impossible not to be grateful to God for the wonder of creation. Mountains do the same thing for me. I don’t wonder that ancient men and women worshiped God in their myriad ways on mountaintops, or that God so often manifested himself in high places. All of this comes from someone who doesn’t spend many vacations communing with nature and who would far rather spend leisure time sitting safely with a novel than going rock climbing or jogging on a beach (oh, but give me a novel and a comfortable chair and let me sit early on a summer morning by the shore of a lake or an ocean or even in my backyard…). Nevertheless, the spiritual reality of created wonder sometimes knocks me to my knees. The glory of God is surely expressed in God’s creation. And of course the pinnacle of God’s creation is humanity: humble, sinful, proud or ragged, brilliant or mentally challenged. All of us are in this together, one messy lump bearing the image of the creator himself. All of us are charged with the care of each other (“Am I my brother’s keeper?”) and with the care of the rest of creation, which can sometimes seem even more daunting. We are used, after all, to knowing we should care for our brothers and sisters. That doesn’t mean we always do it as well as we should, but the gospels remind us over and over that we who have much will be judged on what we do for the least of Christ’s sisters and brothers. The modern ecology movement, on the other hand, is usually dated only from the 1962 publication of Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring, which was influential in lessening the uses of harmful pesticides and gave scientific “legs” to the first Earth Day in 1970. But the “save the earth” message was sidetracked for years into a tame anti-littering crusade (remember the weeping Native American on television commercials?). Only in the last few years, with concern for the ozone layer and problems of global warming, has the pro-planet movement come to the fore again, and it is being bitterly fought by commercial interests. But now, especially in church circles, the issue of care for the environment is clearly seen as a justice issue as well as an inherent responsibility. We in the First World use a disproportionate amount of the earth’s resources and, along with rapidly developing large countries like China, are responsible for more than our share of harmful emissions. Writer Woodeene Koenig-Bricker has compiled some of Pope Benedict XVI’s teachings on creation and justice in her Ten Commandments for the Environment (Ave Maria Press, Notre Dame, Indiana). The book also contains commentary by scientists and theological reflections by other thinkers. In speaking out on these issues, Pope Benedict is following the path set by Pope John Paul II, who often expressed concern about care for the earth as a matter of justice, and his writings too are cited in the book. Caring for the earth is squarely situated as part of Catholic social teaching. Enjoy the summer. Minimize your use of pesticides (mosquitoes love me, but it’s better to put repellent on an old scarf than to spray the whole yard). Take a walk. Phone someone you’ve been missing (be sure to recycle your cell phone and battery when they no longer work). Leave the television and the computer off and sit quietly while you watch the stars come out. Write an e-mail or a letter to your congressional representative supporting or urging a pro-environment stand. Listen to the crickets. Say a prayer. Go to bed early, before it’s fully dark: it will make you feel like a kid again and you’ll feel great in the morning. Have a restful, renewing summer. Photo © Copyright Ryan Pike, Bigstockphoto. |
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Summertime, at least here in the northeast, can be a time to slow thins down a little, turn the noise in my head down a notch, and listen to the birds sing. I always look forward to the day (it hasn’t yet come this year as I write this) when I can put the screens in the storm doors, open all the windows, and let the outside come into the house. My bedroom is on the top floor of our suburban home: I have a window on each of three walls and a skylight that opens, and I take particular delight in lying on my bed and seeing nothing but the leafy green of the trees that surround me.
