What does it mean to believe in an ecological God?

Ecological God

Picture the Earth as seen in familiar photos taken from space.

There it spins, a beautiful blue marble wrapped in swirling white clouds, luminous against the black background of endless space.

We, humans, live here, as do millions of other species on and under the solid land, in the fresh and salty waters, and in the air above our heads. In fact, this is the only place where life exists, as far as we know to date.

From here, we can look out and see other places, planets and stars as our ancestors did, and now with amazing new telescopes, we can see ancient galaxies, billions and billions of them.

Perhaps someday, creatures from Earth will live elsewhere. But for now and always, Earth is our home planet.

Today’s awful, undeniable reality is that Earth is in trouble.

Due to human action and inaction, the planet is warming.

Severe droughts, wildfires, floods and storms are wreaking havoc. Hundreds if not thousands of species are rapidly becoming extinct.

The resulting damage disrupts the lives of ever more millions of people, among them those who become climate refugees.

Efforts to care for the Earth are multiplying, as seen in everything from international agreements to individual lifestyle choices.

These efforts, however, face fierce opposition from political and financial forces. And we cannot underplay indifference.

What can religions bring to the table amid this dangerous and complex scene?

Since religious traditions, at their best are bearers of wisdom about ultimate meaning and lay out a roadmap for how to live a good life, most of the world’s religions have resources that can nurture ecological care.

Pope Francis put his finger on this in his 2015 encyclical, “Laudato Si’: Care for Our Common Home”.

I would like from the outset to show how faith convictions can offer Christians, and some other believers as well, ample motivation to care for nature and for the most vulnerable of their brothers and sisters….

It is good for the world at large when we believers better recognize the ecological commitments which stem from our convictions [No. 64].

In other words, beliefs have consequences and should count for something in the practical order.

Christianity and other monotheistic faiths hold dear the belief that one living God created and loves the whole world.

This conviction holds the revolutionary potential to motivate care for the Earth. Yet it has not led many Christians to do so noticeably until recently.

An intriguing story about the 19th-century naturalist John Muir highlights the problem.

One day, when Muir was hiking in the Yosemite wilderness, he came upon a dead bear and stopped to reflect on this creature’s dignity.

Here was an animal with warm blood and a heart that pumped like ours, one who was glad to feel the warm sun on his fur and for whom a good day was finding a bush filled with berries.

Later Muir wrote a bitter entry in his journal criticizing the religious folk he knew who made no room in their faith for such noble creatures.

They think they are the only ones with souls, he complained, the only ones for whom heaven is reserved. To the contrary, he wrote, “God’s charity is broad enough for bears.”

Is it?

Are black bears, panda bears, polar bears, golden bears loved by the Creator to the extent that in their suffering and death they are affected by God’s redeeming power?

If so, where does that place us, humans, in the divine scheme of things?

Taking the bears’ side, I would argue that humans need to rethink our relationship with nature.

We need to change from thinking we are “masters of the universe” to realizing we are kin with bears and all other living beings in a beloved community of creation.

I will explore this issue in three points. Continue reading

  • Elizabeth A. Johnson, C.S.J., is a distinguished professor of theology emerita at Fordham University.
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