God in Nature

This sermon was preached by Rev. Dan Harper at First Unitarian Church in New Bedford. As usual, the sermon below is a reading text. The actual sermon as preached contained ad libs, interjections, and other improvisation. Sermon copyright (c) 2006 Daniel Harper.

Readings

The first reading this morning is a poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson, titled “Blight.”

Give me truths,
For I am weary of the surfaces,
And die of inanition. If I knew
Only the herbs and simples of the wood,
Rue, cinquefoil, gill, vervain, and pimpernel,
Blue-vetch, and trillium, hawkweed, sassafras,
Milkweeds, and murky brakes, quaint pipes and sundew,
And rare and virtuous roots, which in these woods
Draw untold juices from the common earth,
Untold, unknown, and I could surely spell
Their fragrance, and their chemistry apply
By sweet affinities to human flesh,
Driving the foe and stablishing the friend,–
O that were much, and I could be a part
Of the round day, related to the sun,
And planted world, and full executor
Of their imperfect functions.
But these young scholars who invade our hills,
Bold as the engineer who fells the wood,
And travelling often in the cut he makes,
Love not the flower they pluck, and know it not,
And all their botany is Latin names.
The old men studied magic in the flower,
And human fortunes in astronomy,
And an omnipotence in chemistry,
Preferring things to names, for these were men,
Were unitarians of the united world,
And wheresoever their clear eyebeams fell,
They caught the footsteps of the SAME. Our eyes
Are armed, but we are strangers to the stars,
And strangers to the mystic beast and bird,
And strangers to the plant and to the mine;
The injured elements say, Not in us;
And night and day, ocean and continent,
Fire, plant, and mineral say, Not in us,
And haughtily return us stare for stare.
For we invade them impiously for gain,
We devastate them unreligiously,
And coldly ask their pottage, not their love,
Therefore they shove us from them, yield to us
Only what to our griping toil is due;
But the sweet affluence of love and song,
The rich results of the divine consents
Of man and earth, of world beloved and lover,
The nectar and ambrosia are withheld;
And in the midst of spoils and slaves, we thieves
And pirates of the universe, shut out
Daily to a more thin and outward rind,
Turn pale and starve….

The second reading this morning is by Bernard Loomer, Bernard, from his essay “The Size of God” [in The Size of God: The Theology of Bernard Loomer in Context, ed. by William Dean and Larry Axel. Macon, GA: Mercer University Press]:

“In our traditions the term ‘God’ is the symbol of ultimate values and meanings in all of their dimensions. It connotes an absolute claim on our loyalty. It points the direction of a greatness of fulfillment. It signifies a richness of resources for the living of life at its depths. It suggests the enshrinement of our common and ecological life. It proclaims an adequate object of worship. It symbolizes a transcendent and inexhaustible meaning that forever eludes our grasp. The world is God because it is the source and preserver of meaning; because the creative advance of the world in its adventure is the supreme cause to be served; because even in our desecration of our space and time within it, the world is holy ground; and because it contains and yet enshrouds the ultimate mystery inherent within existence itself” (Loomer 1987, 42)

SERMON — “God in Nature”

In case you’re wondering, I’m not going to preach about Christmas this week. It’s only NOvember, and still too early to preach about Christmas. Instead, this sermon is the third in a series of sermons on Unitarian Universalist views on God.

I’ve been thinking about the current hullabaloo raised by Richard Dawkins’s latest book, The God Delusion. Dawkins, as you probably know, is an evolutionary biologist; he is also an atheist who delights in pointing out the ridiculousness of believing in God; and as a result he has been getting lots of coverage in the popular press. I have to admit, I don’t even plan to read his book. Tending towards cynicism as I do, it’s hard for me to take Dawkins seriously, because it’s clear that the more he fulminates against established religion, the more books he will sell. In today’s world, iconoclasm can be very profitable.

Come to think of it, maybe I should read Dawkins’s book, and learn how to write my own bestselling book in which I trash-talk religion from a minister’s point of view.

On the other hand, while the media has been giving Dawkins lots of coverage, but they have not been covering how theological scholars are responding to Dawkins’s book; popular culture doesn’t want to hear experts on religion talk about religion. The theologians are politely saying that Dawkins’s book simply displays his ignorance of theology: that the God Dawkins describes is not a God that any theologian would take seriously either. They are also saying Dawkins should know better: in order to write seriously about a subject you should read up on the subject first, and Dawkins clearly knows nothing about theology.

On the other other hand, the theologians are probably jealous that their books don’t sell as well as Dawkins’s. Which may be because too many of the theologians write about a traditional, abstract God that I can’t believe in. So where does that leave someone like me? I don’t believe in the cartoon-caricature of God that Dawkins vilifies; who does? Nor am I interested in the traditional God of the theologians, a lifeless God which I sometimes find even less believable than Dawkins’s cartoonish God.

I suspect there are quite a few you out there who find themselves in this same position. The cartoon-God of the God-bashers, while entertaining, is also faintly embarrassing because it’s too easy to bash a cartoonish God. The traditional concepts of God hold little interest for us any more. The academic God of the theologians seems simply irrelevant. Yet here we are, sitting in a church; we’re still religious. Whether or not we believe in God, we still take religion seriously.

So this morning I’d like to talk about one concept of God that I find I can take seriously; and that’s the idea that God is inextricably intertwined with Nature, with the natural world. Not that you or I or anyone should unquestioningly accept this concept of God-in-Nature;– but I do think it’s worthy of our serious attention, for at least three reasons: first, because many people find personal religious inspiration in Nature; second, because it seems easy to reconcile such a God with the insights of science; and third, because it seems that such a God could help us understand the current ecological crisis, and help us understand why we should do something about that crisis.

Let’s start with that first reason:– It’s worth considering God as Nature because many of us find personal religious inspiration in Nature. By “religious” inspiration, I mean an experience of awe and wonder, or an experience a sense of the sublime; a personal sense of religion often grows out of such experiences. Not that these experiences lead necessarily towards one narrow religious viewpoint. You can experience a religious awe and wonder at the coming of springtime and the rebirth of the natural world; but that doesn’t mean that you will necessarily fit that experience of awe and wonder into the traditional Western Christian celebration of Easter and the risen Christ; no more does it mean that you will fit that experience into the celebration of the ancient Celtic pagan holiday of Beltane. Or you can experience a religious sense of the sublime when you are in the eye of a hurricane, when you see and hear the storm raging all around you but overhead there is that small, quiet patch of blue sky; but that sense of the insignificant self being overwhelmed by the sublime power and grandeur of the universe does not lead to any specific religious theological belief system.

I get a good deal of my own religious inspiration from Nature. When I’m in the White Mountains, hiking above treeline into the alpine ecosystem, being in the midst of the low shrubby trees and tiny delicate flowers, that is a religious experience for me. Or the other day when I was out on Pope’s Island, I flushed a Cooper’s Hawk out of some shrubs near the city marina, and the surprise of its sudden appearance, and the sight of it flying off low over the waters of the harbor, was a religious experience. I don’t know how to explain that feeling of connection to another living being except as a religious connection; I’m not going to eat a Cooper’s Hawk, nor will it eat me; seeing a patch of lichen above treeline is not going to give me some evolutionary advantage that will help me pass along my genes to the next generation. These powerful experiences of nature don’t move me to believe in the traditional God, but my personal experiences of the natural world make me think that it might make sense to describe Nature as God.

And this is related to the fact that it is possible, even easy, to reconcile such a God, God-in-Nature, with the insights of science.

Science can provoke awe and wonder and sense of sublime; at least, I suspect it can do so for nearly everyone in this room. Haven’t you ever been thrilled by one of those science programs on television? Admittedly, some of them are terminally boring, but I do get excited by the programs about astronomy. How can you not get excited when you hear about the Big Bang that (so it is theorized) was the beginning of our whole universe? How can you not react in awe and wonder when you learn about the vast distances in our universe? What’s even more thrilling is when you get to experience science first-hand. Last winter, one of the local astronomy clubs brought their telescopes out for AHA! Night one month, and I got a chance to look through their telescopes at Uranus and Mars — that was far more memorable than a television program, and it was certainly an experience of awe and wonder for me.

On a more personal level, as an avid bird watcher I’m thrilled by bird biology. When you see two different kinds of sandpipers feeding side by side at the edge of the ocean, almost identical to one another except for the length of their bills, and you know that they evolved from a common ancestor, evolving different bill lengths so one could dig a little deeper in the sand and mud and exploit a slightly different ecological niche, I find that thrilling. Those two birds are living, breathing examples of how evolution works, which I find awe-inspiring and wonderful. Now I had better stop talking about birds before your eyes glaze over in boredom. The science of ornithology happens to fill me with awe and wonder; even if you find birds mind-numbingly boring, I trust that you will be able to think of other examples of science that fills you with awe and wonder.

Richard Dawkins notwithstanding, many religious people have no problem reconciling God with science. Liberal Christians find it easy to reconcile a fairly traditional Christian God with science, as long as you don’t take the Bible literally. Pagans, Jews, and many other religious faiths say that science is completely compatible with belief in Goddess or God. But I would like to tell you about “religious naturalism,” a religious position which I probably adhere to.

Jerry Stone, a philosopher of religion who is affiliated with Meadville Lombard Theological School, came up with the term “religious naturalism.” I went to hear Jerry give a talk about religious naturalism last June at General Assembly, our big annual denominational meeting. Jerry says that ‘naturalism’ means “a set of beliefs and attitudes that focus on this world,” whereas ‘supernaturalism’ would imply that there is something beyond the natural world. So according to Jerry Stone, “religious naturalism is a philosophy or theology that there are religious aspects of this world which can be appreciated within a naturalist framework.” Which means that religious naturalism is easily compatible with science.

And religious naturalism allows belief in God. (Jerry Stone also says that there are also religious naturalists who see no need for any concept of God at all; but that’s a topic for a different sermon.) Some religious naturalists would say that God is the whole universe, the totality of everything; as we heard Bernard Loomer say in the first reading this morning. Other religious naturalists would say that God is a part of the total universe; for example, a theologian named Henry Nelson Wieman said that the creative process in the universe is God. Ralph Waldo Emerson and Henry David Thoreau fall into one of these two camps: they found God in natural processes and in the connections between living beings, and it may be that they find God in everything.

To find God in the interconnections between living beings: it seems to me that such a God could help us understand why we should do something about the current ecological crisis. This is the big problem I have with people like Richard Dawkins: he gives me no compelling reason why I should try to stop species extinctions, or try to clean up New Bedford harbor, or do anything at all about the ecological crisis.

Our ecological crisis fascinates me. It horrifies me, too, but I’m fascinated by the fact that we have the science and the technological know-how to end the ecological crisis — and yet we aren’t ending the crisis. I’m fascinated by the fact that we have the financial resources to pay for solving global warming, to take one example, to pay for it with relatively little disruption to the economy — and yet we aren’t ending global warming, or any part of the ecological crisis. I’m fascinated from a religious point of view, because I think our society refuses to deal with the current ecological crisis because of certain prevailing religious beliefs. Let me outline what some of those religious beliefs might be.

First, and most obviously, there are substantial numbers of right-wing Christians who don’t worry about the current ecological crisis because they fully expect the end of the world to come, and all the true believers will be “raptured” up to heaven. If you think you’re going to get “raptured” up to heaven, I’ll bet you don’t think you have to deal with global warming, species extinctions, or the PCBs in New Bedford harbor. Second, there are substantial numbers of people of many different religious persuasions who are willing to passively sit back and trust to God, or to Goddess, or whomever. If you think it was meant to be this way, ecological disasters and all, if you say “I’m sure God will provide”; I’d have to say there isn’t much incentive for you to take responsibility yourself to clean up the world.

Thirdly, and least obviously, there are lots of people who believe that human beings are the most important life form, not only more important than any other plant or animal but also more important than the ecosystem considered as a whole. If you think you, as a human being, are so special then why would you cut back on your fuel consumption just because global warming is going to melt the polar ice caps thus killing off all the polar bears? This third group includes plenty of people who would not think of themselves as religious, but I count them as religious since they hold onto this belief with religious zeal in spite of all evidence to the contrary. Yet if the theory of evolution teaches us anything, it teaches us that human beings are not special and not unique; we’re just another organism that happened to develop through the chance processes of evolution.

We human beings do have a deep need to feel special. At the moment, too many of us satisfy our need to feel special at the expense of all other life forms. If we are willing to affirm God as being intertwined with Nature in some way, that means that we, too, are a part of God. It doesn’t get any more special than that: there is that of God in each of us; or maybe it’s that there’s that of each of us in God; in either case, we too are divine, we too are Godly. If you prefer, you can substitute “Goddess” for “God” here, and everything will still be equally true.

Yet if we say that God or Goddess is intertwined with Nature, we have every incentive to do no harm to Nature, for doing harm to Nature is not only doing harm to God or Goddess, it is also doing harm to ourselves; since we too are divine. It is morally and ethically wrong to cause harm to Nature.

In the first reading this morning, Ralph Waldo Emerson tells us that we have become strangers to animals and plants, strangers to ocean and continent, strangers even to the night and to the day. Why is this so?: “For we invade them impiously for gain,/We devastate them unreligiously…”. Emerson tell us that it is morally and ethically wrong to cause harm to Nature. He also tells us that in causing such harm, we only harm ourselves: “The nectar and ambrosia” of the Gods “are withheld” from us; “And in the midst of spoils and slaves, we thieves/ And pirates of the universe, shut out/ Daily to a more thin and outward rind,/ Turn pale and starve.” Causing harm to ourselves is itself morally and ethically wrong, to say nothing of being stupid.

“Give me truths,” says Emerson, not delusions. The truth is that it wouldn’t do us any harm to start treating Nature as divine. I’m not trying to convince you that you should accept this idea of God; I’m not even sure that I accept this notion of God; I need to think about this some more. But the idea of God as Nature is worth taking seriously.

Affirm that Nature is divine, and maybe humans will stop unleashing blight on the natural world. Affirm the divinity of Nature, and maybe we will figure out how to extend our morals and ethics beyond human beings to all of Nature. Such affirmations do not strike me as delusional, but as good practical common sense.

Ecofeminism

This sermon was preached by Rev. Dan Harper. As usual, the sermon below is a reading text. The actual sermon as preached contained ad libs, interjections, and other improvisation. Sermon copyright (c) 2006 Daniel Harper.

Readings

The first reading is from the Christian scriptures, from the book called Matthew, chapter 6, verses 24-30.

“No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.

“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you — you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, ‘What will we eat?’ or ‘What will we drink?’ or ‘What will we wear?’… But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”

The second reading is from Starhawk’s book Dreaming the Dark: Magic, Sex, and Politics. I take this second reading to be deeply related to the first reading.

“The image of the Goddess strikes at the roots of estrangement. True value is not found in some heaven, some abstract otherworld, but in female bodies and their offspring, female and male; in nature, and in the world. Nature is seen as having its own inherent order, of which human beings are a part. Human nature, needs, drives, and desires are not dangerous impulses in need of repression and control, but are themselves expressions of the order inherent in being. The evidence of our sense and our experience is evidence of the divine — the moving energy that unites all being.”

So end this morning’s readings.

SERMON — “Ecofeminism”

One of the things that I like best about Jesus of Nazareth — that is, the Jesus whose words we can find in the Bible as opposed to the Jesus that the established church has constructed — is that Jesus constantly challenges us to think more clearly and to feel more deeply. So Jesus preaches to his followers:

“Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” Today, we might add that the birds of the air use no fossil fuels in order to feed themselves, and the only waste products they emit are biodegradable and nontoxic. Jesus goes on: “And why do you worry about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these.” And Jesus’s words take on additional meaning in the 21st century when you think about the energy it takes to manufacture clothes, and ship clothes from the distant countries in which they are now mostly manufactured. Jesus goes on: “If God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you — you of little faith?”

If you have been coming to church over the past three weeks, you know that I have been preaching a series of sermons on feminist theology, and today’s sermon is the last, and I might say the culminating, sermon in that series. If you were here two weeks ago, you heard how feminist theology became our most important theological stance in the 1980s, and you heard about how feminist theology underlies the so-called “seven principles,” which have become the most widely-used affirmation of faith among us, and therefore I said that feminist theology has become central to who we are now. But I also pointed out how the feminist theology of the 1980’s has problems and limitations, and I described how a younger generation of women, especially working class women and women of color, have pointed out some of those problems and limitations. And that old 1980’s feminism really doesn’t have much to say about the ecological crisis that we are in the midst of now. Today I’d like to speak with you about ecofeminism, and I’ve saved ecofeminism for last because I believe ecofeminism addresses these problems and limitations, and I believe ecofeminism should be a central theology for us Unitarian Universalists.

Which brings us to the second reading this morning. Starhawk, a Neo-pagan and the author of that second reading, is one of the best-known ecofeminist theologians alive today. In that second reading she writes, “True value is not found in some heaven, some abstract otherworld, but in female bodies and their offspring, female and male; in nature, and in the world. Nature is seen as having its own inherent order, of which human beings are a part.” In other words, Starhawk is saying that we don’t have to wait until after we die to enter into some disembodied heavenly state. We’re there here and now. We can find true value in our own bodies. We can find true value in the world and in nature. Actually, there is no real separation between our bodies (our selves) and nature, because we are a part of the inherent order of the world.

That’s a pretty radical thing for Starhawk to say. Western Christianity and Western culture have been telling us for centuries that our souls or minds are more important than bodies. Western culture tells us that there’s a separation between our minds and our bodies, and that our bodies are less important than our minds; and Western Christianity tells us not to worry about suffering here and now, because one day we’ll get to go to heaven. But Starhawk says that true value is found in our bodies, in nature, in the world; we’re already a part of it; true value is here and now.

And like many ecofeminists, Starhawk tells a story of how we got to the point where we are now. This ecofeminist story is based on archaeological and anthropological research, and it goes something like this:

Before humans invented agriculture, the archaeological record shows that we got along pretty well. Back then, human beings were reasonably healthy, and the hunting-gathering life didn’t take up much of our time so we had plenty of leisure. Maybe we did some gardening, too, but we weren’t engaged in intensive agriculture. Then some bright human invented agriculture. Once agriculture became the way we got our food, the archaeological record shows that overall health declined. Archaeologists find a greater incidence of illness and disease, and they find that agriculturalists were on average four inches shorter than hunter-gatherers. In addition, the invention of agriculture seems correlated with several other inventions: slavery, economic exploitation of the majority of humanity, devastating wars, and (dare I say it?) the emergence of monotheism, that is, the belief in one single male god.

That’s the scientific story. Some Christians and some Neo-pagans tell this story a little differently. They tell a story about an ancient time when humankind lived in balance with the rest of the world. Some of these Christians tell the story of the Garden of Eden, a time a place where the first humans didn’t have to work by the sweat of their brows, and didn’t have to wear clothes, and generally had a lovely time. In this Christian story, those first humans violated God’s law by eating from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, that is by knowing too much. Because they knew too much, those first humans got kicked out of the paradise that was the Garden of Eden; and this is known as the Fall.

Some Neo-pagans tell a different, but related, story about an ancient time in human history when women were in charge of human society. At that time, we human beings lived in harmony with the earth and in harmony with our own bodies. In this Neo-pagan story, someone invented domination, whereby one human being (usually a man) dominates another human being. This led to slavery, exploitation of the earth, and a lower standard of living for everyone except a few wealthy men; and this kind of domination is known as patriarchy.

The Christians tell us that we can’t go back to the Garden of Eden; Neo-pagans like Starhawk tell us that we really can’t go back to living the way they did in the old matriarchal societies; the archaeologists tell us that we can’t go back to living as hunter-gatherers. So what went wrong? And how do we find a way out of this mess?

Not that I believe that there can even be a final answer to these questions, or to any serious question about the fate of earth and humanity. Year after year, century after century, individuals have claimed to have the one true final answer to life, the universe, and everything; and year after year, century after century, human beings have fixed one problem only to have a new problem emerge somewhere else. That is the way of growth and evolution and change. To use an ecological metaphor, there is no single climax state of the forest in which the forest ecosystem settles down into some perfect unchanging heavenly state. Random fluctuations of weather, chance mutations in certain species, interactions with nearby ecosystems, all lead to change. Change is the only constant, accompanied by growth and evolution.

Yet if change is the only constant, then we should be able to change things for the better, rather than letting them get worse. And ecofeminism offers some profound religious insight into our current mess, and offers hope that we might be able to grow, and to change things for the better. In that spirit of hope, let us ask what ecofeminism can offer us.

Ecofeminism tells us that domination has helped get us into the current mess. So if we look at the Western Christian tradition, we find this idea that God allegedly told humankind that human beings have dominion over all other living things; and then God said that men have dominion over women; and next thing you know you have variations on the theme of domination like slavery and oppression of ethnic minorities. Even if one form of domination doesn’t follow another form of domination chronologically, all these kinds of domination are linked together: human domination of other living things is linked to patriarchy or the male domination of women, which is linked to slavery or the domination of some human beings by other human beings, often along racial or ethnic lines.

Needless to say, domination and exploitation go together. If a woman’s place is in the kitchen where they don’t get paid or compensated for their work, whoever is dominating them is also exploiting them. And when human beings dominate the total ecosystem to meet our short-term needs without paying attention to the survival of other species, that sounds like exploitation to me.

As Unitarian Universalists, we claim that we affirm the inherent worth and dignity of all persons. I take that to mean that we will not affirm the domination of some human beings by other human beings. So, for example, if we affirm that women have inherent worth and dignity, then we will not put up with men dominating women. If we affirm that people of color have inherent worth and dignity, then we will not put up with white people dominating people of color. To say that we affirm the inherent worth and dignity of all persons means that we won’t put up with domination. We won’t put up with one person dominating another, yet we are willing to go further than that and say that we won’t put up with human beings dominating other living beings.

So, too, do we affirm respect for the interdependent web of life of which we are a part. We are not comfortable with domination, no matter what form it might take. Any religion rooted in dignity and respect for other beings is a religion that cannot tolerate domination and exploitation. So it is that I say we Unitarian Universalists are ecofeminists — or, at least, we are in the process of becoming ecofeminists, for I’m not sure we’re quite there yet.

Because once you start thinking like an ecofeminist, it really changes the way you think about religion. Your whole religious landscape shifts. You become suspicious of the way the old religious texts have been interpreted, so that when you hear about how God told humankind to have dominion over other living beings, you get suspicious and you wonder if there might not be another interpretation of that old Bible verse. You become suspicious of your whole Western religious tradition, so that when you hear about a God who is always referred to as “he” and “him,” you begin to wonder why we don’t also refer to God as a Goddess whom we refer to as “she” and “her.” You become suspicious of people who tell you that it is “natural” for men to have power over women, just as you become suspicious of people who tell you that it is “natural” for people with white skin to have more power than people with darker skin — and when they tell you that the Bible says that men should have dominion over women, you become suspicious of the way those people are interpreting the Bible.

And that can lead us to challenge the old religious interpretations. So Starhawk challenges us to give up those old notions of heaven as some abstract, otherworldly place. She challenges us to find true value in women’s bodies here and now, and to find true value in male and female bodies that come from women’s bodies. She tells us that we don’t need to be estranged from our bodies, or from each other, for we human beings are inherently part of the inherent order of nature. She tells us to trust the evidence of our senses, and find evidence of the divine in the moving energy that unites all living beings, unites all things. We challenge the old religious interpretations, and we find freedom: the freedom that comes when we don’t allow our thoughts to be dominated by some abstract authority, the freedom that comes when we shake off the bonds of slavery or servitude imposed on us by someone else. We challenge the old religious interpretations, and we find deep interconnectedness: we are interconnected with each other, male and female, all races and ethnicities, and dominating someone else only harms us; we are interconnected with all nature, and we can’t dominate nature without dominating and enslaving ourselves as well.

This brings us back to those enigmatic words of Jesus, which end with Jesus saying, “But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” Traditional religious authorities have interpreted this to mean that we should strive to get into heaven, some time after we die, and then, like the lilies of the field we too will be clothed like King Solomon in all his glory. When Jesus talks about the lilies of the field and the birds of the air, generations of church-goers interpreted these words as referring to heaven, to some perfect state of being that will come to us (if we behave ourselves) after we die. Wait for death, enter into that disembodied state known as heaven, and you too can become like the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. When you’re in a disembodied heaven, it’s easy for the heavenly father to feed you and clothe you if you’re disembodied. In other words, suck it up now, be meek and mild and don’t be bothered when others dominate you, and after you die you’ll get your reward.

But what if generations of church-goers and the old traditional religious authorities are completely wrong? What if Jesus is actually telling us to resist domination and to live with dignity, in harmony with each other, respecting the earth and all living beings? What if he is telling us that we can have heaven here on earth, if we choose to do so?

That’s what you get to do if you’re an ecofeminist. You get to discard those old traditional religious interpretations, and try to get at what Jesus was actually saying. Strip away to creeds and dogmas of the centuries, and perhaps what Jesus really said was to strive for the kingdom of heaven, so you can live in harmony with the world — in the same way that the birds of the air, and the lilies of the field, live in interdependent harmony with the world. That possibility exists here and now. Nor is this some pie-in-the-sky utopian vision, for the lilies manage to do it here and now.

Not that I’m going to claim that Jesus of Nazareth was an ecofeminist theologian, because he wasn’t. Nor am I going to say that any contemporary ecofeminist, including Starhawk, has the final answer to our problems, because they don’t and she doesn’t. We don’t need a final answer, we just need a direction in which we can travel. I think ecofeminism offers us a direction that all of us — women and men, people of color and white people, Christians and Pagans and humanists — a direction in which we can travel together to get out of this mess.

It’s not like I’m just making this up. Many of you have told me that you know domination is everywhere: men dominating women, white people dominating dark-skinned people, super-rich dominating everyone else, humankind dominating other living beings. You have told me that domination no longer works, that it’s just creating mass extinction of species, ongoing violence against women, racism, and miserable lives — and many of you have told me pieces of how to put an end to it.

So I’m just piecing this together for you. We know what to do. We know this is a religious matter, and we know that our church, good old First Unitarian in New Bedford, is one of the religious institutions that can address this matter. So what if we’re a small church. So what if there’s only forty of us here this morning. So what if we’re a little disorganized, and some of us are tired, and all of us are busy. What we need is an ecofeminist movement happening. When there’s a hundred of us in here on a Sunday morning, we can start building coalitions with like-minded groups. We’ll get lots of kids in here so we can get them to understand this at a young age. Then when there’s four hundred of us, the local politicians will have to start paying attention. And when there’s a thousand of us, we can….

Now, I just know what someone is going to say to me at coffee hour — “Well, Dan, I just don’t know, I don’t think we’ll ever have a thousand Unitarian Universalists, not in New Bedford.” Well, my friends, the evangelicals are building a megachurch in the northern end of our city and they plan to build a membership of two thousand or more people, in order to save a few disembodied souls….

…Surely we Unitarian Universalists can come up with a thousand people who will work towards a world of dignity and respect for all living beings, and earth made fair, and all her peoples one.

No excuses, now.

The Garden

This sermon was preached by Rev. Dan Harper. As usual, the sermon below is a reading text. The actual sermon as preached contained ad libs, interjections, and other improvisation. Sermon copyright (c) 2006 Daniel Harper.

Readings

The scripture reading this morning is from the Pentateuch or Torah, from the book we know as Genesis, chapter 1 verses 27-28:

“27 So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.

“28 God blessed them, and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.’ ”

Next, a commentary on the reading from Rosemary Radford Reuther, a Christian ecological theologian, in her book Gaia and God: An Ecofeminist Theology of Earth Healing:

“First, I assume that there is no ready-made ecological spirituality and ethic in past traditions. The ecological crisis is new to human experience. This does not mean that humans have not devastated their environment before. But as long as populations remained small and human technology weak, these devastations were remediable by migration, retreat from to-heavy urban centers, or adaptation of new techniques. Nature appeared a huge inexhaustible source of life, and humans small…. The radical nature of this new face of ecological devastation means that all past human traditions are inadequate in the face of it. Whatever useful elements may exist in, for example, Native American or Taoist thought, must be reinterpreted to make them usable in the face of both scientific knowledge and the destructive power of the technology it has made possible.

“My second assumption is that each tradition is best explored by those who claim community in that tradition. This does not preclude conversions into other traditions or communication between them…. But the plumbing of each tradition, and its reinterpretation for today’s crises, is a profound task that needs to begin in the context of communities of accountability. Those people for whom Taoism or Pueblo Indian spirituality are their native traditions are those best suited to dig those roots and offer their fruits to the rest of us. Those without these roots should be cautious in claiming plants not our own, respectful of those who speak from within.” [p. 206]

SERMON — “The Garden”

We all know that wonderful old story about how God created the heavens and the earth, and all living beings including human beings; and then God tells the human beings that they will have dominion over all over living things; and then God has the human beings live in the Garden of Eden until they get themselves thrown out by eating a piece of fruit. We all know that story; that is, we all think we know that story; because when you really start looking at the actual story as it is written in the book of Genesis, it really isn’t the story you think you know.

For example, you know that God created male human beings in God’s image, right? –and then God took a rib out of the first man to make a woman, right? Well, wrong. That’s the way the story is told in a later part of the book of Genesis, but we get quite a different story in an earlier part of the book of Genesis, which we heard in this morning’s reading:

So God created humankind in his image,
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them.

In other words, there are two stories of the creation of human beings in Genesis. In this first story, both male and female human beings were created in God’s image. Take this a step farther: if a God identified as “he” or male can create female beings in “his” image, we are not talking about a living being made into a literal copy of God’s image; this is not a literal statement, but a mythic or poetic statement; and the opinions of our fundamentalist brothers and sisters notwithstanding, none the less true for being poetic and religious truth.

Genesis is a big, sprawling, complex book. It’s really a collection of myths, tales, poetry by several different authors living in several different eras, and eventually collected or redacted together by an anonymous editor or editors. We think we know the wonderful old story told in the book of Genesis, but when you actually read it carefully you find that maybe you don’t know it quite as well as you think you do. Our culture tries to reduce Genesis to a simple linear narrative, but when you do that you wind up with all kinds of things that simply aren’t in the book. “Original sin” is another example: not a phrase that appears in the book of Genesis, it’s an invention of Augustine and Milton. Another example: the belief that Genesis presents one unified story of how human beings came to be, when you can find three different stories of the creation of humans [Gen 1.27; Gen 2.4-7 & 20-23; Gen 6.1-4]. You can’t reduce Genesis to a simple, linear narrative; you have to approach it with mythic poetic thinking. Genesis is a story written by poets, it is not a blueprint written by engineers or a mathematical proof written by physicists.

Which brings us to the second half of this morning’s first reading:

“God blessed them, and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves upon the earth.'”

In our second reading this morning, the one by Rosemary Radford Ruether, we heard her say, “there is no ready-made ecological spirituality and ethic in past traditions; the ecological crisis is new to human experience.” She also charges us with the task of reinterpreting our religious tradition in light of the ecological crisis.

Now if you ask me — not that you did ask me, but anyway — if you ask me, this passage in Genesis where the God of the Israelites says to the two freshly-made human beings, “Subdue the earth, and have dominion over it” — this passage is one of the roots of the current ecological crisis. If it’s not the taproot, it’s definitely one of the big, main roots. Because this passage, my friends, has been interpreted over and over again as giving human beings license to “subdue” the non-human world by any means at all; it has been interpreted over and over again as giving human beings the right of dominion, or domination, over all other living beings and over the inanimate world, too. This passage from Genesis has been interpreted to mean we get to do whatever we want with the world, no matter what the consequences. I’d say this attitude towards the world lies at the root of our current ecological crisis; this attitude towards the world is why New Bedford harbor is a Superfund site, it’s why the Bald Eagle is an endangered species, it’s why Georges Bank fishing stock continues to be threatened.

It is my belief that one of the deepest roots of the current ecological crisis is, in fact, a matter of religion. A certain narrow interpretation of Genesis from our Western Christian tradition has legitimated actions that cause ecological problems. Obviously, as Rosemary Radford Ruether would say, we need to do some reinterpretation here. And we Unitarian Universalists are perfectly placed to do exactly that kind of reinterpretation: because we are a non-creedal faith, we’ve gotten pretty good at questioning and reinterpreting religion; and because we have our roots within the Western Christian tradition, we are perfectly placed to reinterpret this particular tradition.

So let’s see if we can do some reinterpretation of this passage from Genesis. In a twenty minute sermon, we’re not going to finish the task, not by any stretch of the imagination. But we can make a start at it, see what it feels like, and see if we want to go on and do more of this.

Back to the passage from Genesis. The first question that occurs to me is this: what does it mean, in a poetical-mythic-non-linear sense, when the God of the Israelites tells the first man and the first woman that they have “dominion” over other living beings?

First part of the answer: clearly human beings are somehow different from other living beings. We are told explicitly in this passage one way in which human beings are different from other living beings. God tells the human beings to “be fruitful and multiply,” but God has already said that to every winged bird and every creature that lives in the sea; so here again, the human beings are not unique. But then God says to the human beings that they will “fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion” over every other living being. Human beings are to be different from other living beings: they will fill the earth and subdue it, and have dominion over every other living being. This in fact tallies with our own observations of the world: we human beings certainly have been fruitful, we have multiplied, and we do indeed have dominion over other living beings. Right away, this passage is beginning to make a kind of poetical sense.

A second part of the answer seems to lie in the word “dominion.” For those of us who speak English, the word “dominion” has some specific connotations. Were these connotations part of the original Hebrew text? For the Western Christian tradition, it almost doesn’t matter one way or the other, because in the Western tradition we trace our understanding of the Bible back to Jerome’s translation of the Greek text into Latin, and his translation uses “dominamini” in this passage, to rule over, to govern, to be master of. No matter what the original sense was, we wind up understanding that God gives human beings dominion over other living beings in the sense of mastery, domination, non-democratic rule. And as we look at the place of human beings in the world today, we see that in fact is true; we have dominion over the rest of the world; we have dominated all other living beings to the point where we find it quite easy to drive them to extinction. And in the old interpretation of this passage, that’s fine and dandy — God put it there for us to do with what we want.

In our new interpretation of this passage, however, we like to point out a poetical, mythic truth that was ignored in the old passage. We like to point out that God does not say: use everything up, and destroy it too if you want. We like to point out that God does not say: all this used to be mine, but now I’m giving it to you humans to use any way you want. Nor does God say, now that you’re rulers over every other living thing, be sure to act like the worst kind of tyrant, torturing and abusing all those other living things.

In our new interpretation of this old passage, we readily admit that human beings have subdued other living things, and we do indeed have dominion over other living things; we’re pretty much rulers of this planet. But we also like to point out that we can be good rulers, or we can be bad rulers; we can be benevolent tyrants or we can be malicious dictators.

Then there’s the third part of our answer to the question: “when the God of the Israelites tells the first man and the first woman that they have “dominion” over other living beings?” For this third part of the answer, I’d like you to suspend your own personal beliefs about God for just a moment: if you don’t believe in God, forget about that for a moment; and if you do believe in God forget about whether you believe in the God of the book of Genesis or not. Remember that we are reinterpreting this influential passage from an influential book; and to reinterpret the mythic poetry of this book, we have to suspend whatever disbelief we might have. At this stage of reinterpretation, we have to take the book on its own terms. Once you’ve suspended whatever disbelief you might have, we’re ready to take the next step.

God gives the human beings in this story dominion over all other living beings, over the fish in the seas, the birds in the air, every growing thing on earth, and all the animals of the earth. God gives the human beings dominion over all other living beings, but God does not give total possession to the human beings. In other words, it is quite clear that God still owns all living beings Godself. I’m sure you see the logical conclusion of this. If we human beings cause some living being to go extinct, God is not going to be happy. God created that living being that we caused to go extinct. God looked at all those living beings at the end of one of those days of creation and said, “It is good.” What do you think is going to happen if you cause one of God’s creatures to go extinct? Trust me, it won’t be pretty. You read the rest of the Torah, and you’ll see what I mean. Remember what God did to Sodom and Gomorrah? When the God of the Israelites gets angry, you’re going to want to run and hide.

Good thing I’m a Universalist, because we Universalists believe in universal salvation, where everybody gets to go to heaven. What with all the extinctions going on right now, if I believed in God, but I didn’t believe in universal salvation, I’d be seriously worried about facing the consequences of God’s wrath. To quote the old bumper sticker: “God is coming, and boy is she teed off.”

So you see, we have begun to reinterpret that old passage from our Western religious tradition, just in the way Rosemary Radford Ruether said we could. We could go much further than this, too, and I’ll quickly sketch out one direction in which we could go much further.

One of the great things about the Christian tradition is that, at its core, it is specifically designed to resist and overcome domination; this in spite of the fact that Christianity got coopted by Roman imperialism, and became a tool of oppression. Most of what we dislike most about Christianity today has to do, not with the teachings of Jesus, but with the later appropriations of Christianity by imperialists.

Indeed, we find that over the centuries some Christians have used Christianity, not as a tool of domination, but as a way to understand that if you’re in power, if you in fact do have dominion over other beings, you had better understand how to use that dominion wisely. Jimmy Carter comes to mind as one such Christian leader, although perhaps he became better at this after he was President. Martin Luther King is a wonderful example of someone who gained power and influence, understood that he was a steward of that power, and used that power to effect good in the world.

We do have dominion over other living things, and we have started asking if we are using that dominion wisely. The Christian tradition places a moral and ethical burden on having dominion: we haven’t taken dominion by ourselves, bootstrapping ourselves into power; rather we are given dominion over other beings by God, and ultimately we are going to be answerable to God. Even if you personally don’t believe in God, you’re still within the Western tradition, and you can put the same concepts into different words: dominion is as a gift that has been given us as a result of the quirks and chances of evolution that happened to give us opposable thumbs and a big brain and great social skills including language; ultimately we are answerable to ourselves, and our children, as to how we use the dominion that chance has thrown in our way. We know that ultimately we are answerable for our actions — and that, my friends, lies at the root of our reinterpretation of the Christian tradition.

This kind of ecological theology, or ecotheology, is going on all around us. Many liberal Christians, like John Cobb and Wnedell Berry, are already doing ecological theology, and some evangelical Christians are also starting to do ecological theology. Then, too, many neo-pagans are doing ecological theology from yet another Western religious perspective. Our Unitarian Universalist congregations — this Unitarian Universalist congregation — should be at the center of the ecotheological movement. We are really good at reinterpreting old mythic texts. we have already done pagan/Christian dialogue, and we also know how to have productive theist/non-theist conversations. It fits into our commitment to social justice, because ecotheology has the potential to really change how people behave; and it also ties in to our historic commitments to feminism and anti-racism work.

I’m offering this as a possibility for you, for this congregation. I’d say we’re looking for a new theological direction, a new direction for this community. Ecotheology could be that new direction, it could be an important contribution this congregation makes to the greater New Bedford community, and to the wider world.