Falling Again

Falling Again

Today, I just sit. Taking a pregnant pause from the constant demands of life on this early October afternoon, I find myself sitting on a simple wooden bench in the woods outside an abbey in southern Missouri.

I am taking a few days for prayer and pastoral planning away from my normal routines of ministry and life. Walking along the path of the Stations of the Cross at Assumption Abbey outside Ava, Mo., I am struck at the site of a rustic cross that simply reads: “Fell Again.”

Drawn to the humanity of Jesus as he staggered through the streets of Jerusalem, my heart is broken, not just for what was done to him but also what we continue to do to the creation of God that causes ongoing suffrage.

Fall is a favorite

Fall is my favorite time of year. I welcome the change of scenery as the leaves begin to turn and the change in climate as temperatures drop. As I sit along the trail, I rest under the shade of trees that have been around for decades or even centuries. I feel the warmth of the sun as it shines through the trees and the cool breeze of the wind as it whistles through the leaves. I see the early signs of the coming change of seasons as the first leaves fall to the ground, reminding us of the life that once was and the hibernation of what is to come. I swat at the gnats that buzz around my face and reach down to scratch the chigger bites from my walk in the woods yesterday. I give witness to fallen acorns that soon will be whisked away by squirrels and stored from the coming winter.

From the heights of the treetops to the tiny caterpillar crawling at my feet, I have become one with the creation around me. It is here that I find peace; I find serenity; I find God.

I am captivated by what Victoria Loorz calls “The Church of the Wild.” It is in the sanctuary of the wilderness that we find clarity. It is in the sanctuary of the wilderness that we find reassurance of a God who was, who is and who will be. Yet, it is also in the sanctuary of the wilderness that we are reminded of our original calling as image bearers of God.

Origin stories

In the Bible’s origin story, we learn from the first page that God created humanity, both male and female in the Imago Dei— the image of God. Just as the Creator is attributed with bringing all things into being, so as the Creator’s “beings” are commissioned to have dominion over the created order.

Some see this command to be one of power and authoritarian rule. They reason the world God created has resources, which are to be used up for the care and betterment of humankind. They see the world on a path to destruction, so we might as well use up what is here before the end comes. Creation care is nonsensical to them. They are focused on getting out of this planet and taking as many people with them to heaven. Hence, they tend to be so heavenly minded that they are of little earthly good.

Contextually, I am more inclined to understand the Hebrew verb of Genesis 1:28, rada, as a calling to care for the world rather than exert force over it. God does not abuse the created but blesses it, and so should we. If the unincumbered world was deemed “good” (tov), by God, then is behooves us to take care of it rather than destroy it.

The first humans described in the Genesis origin story are commissioned to continue God’s creative process. This occurs through two commands to create: to be fruitful and multiply through human procreation and to be the caregivers of the creatures of the sky, sea and land. Just as God created the environments of sky, sea and land, so we are to continue to care for it and in doing so, we also care for one other.

Suffering

Returning to the Station of the Cross where I sit amid nature, I am introspective of the correlation between the suffering of Jesus and the suffering of our planet. He falls again! As humanity continues toward a perceived progress in industry and capitalism, we are destroying the world in such a way that is actually counterintuitive to our progress.

Unnecessary pollution, destruction of forests, contamination of water supplies and the many various erosions we pursue to somehow get ahead may actually be the means of falling behind. Instead of gaining a better life through advancement, we all might be wise to pause, at least at times, and sit in the beauty of what is divinely created with a heart of gratitude.

The more I get out and touch nature, the more I find the divine presence in nature touches me. Perhaps it is not just the man that receives the divine breath of God as told in the second Genesis creation account (Genesis 2:7). Maybe the artistry of all created things points to the master Artist.

Our 14-year-old son, Joel, is taking art this year in school. After completing each art project, he is responsible for uploading a photo of it onto a designated website. Consequently, we receive emails from the company with images of our son’s graphic artwork inscribed on everything from a coffee mug to a kitchen towel. We are invited to purchase these items as commemorative pieces of Joel’s masterpieces.

The reality is that when I see Joel’s artwork, I do not think of the artwork; I’m drawn to the artist behind the beautiful, graphic creations. Perhaps that is why God created the universe, which is so vast and ever-growing. In the millennia of human existence, we are only scratching the surface of seeing and understanding what all exists.

When Jesus and his disciples were scorned at the triumphal entry into Jerusalem because of messianic cheering of the people, he cautioned his scoffers by saying, “I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out.”

Animate and inanimate

We tend to see the matter in the world around us as either inanimate or animate objects. Animated objects are those that show life, whereas inanimate objects fail to move, breathe and speak. Perhaps this is not as clear a distinction as we might think. If the divine spark of the Creator is in all things, then there is life in all things.

Maybe our failure to hear them stems from a failure to be silent. It is in being still and silent that we truly are able to listen, to understand and to connect with other people and other things. Thus, all matter, both inanimate and animate, speak if we will listen; they should “matter” to us.

And so I sit. I listen to the sounds of the wilderness. I listen as nature cries out. I hear the whispering Spirit of God. It is here that I see the fallen Jesus, who died not just out of love for humanity but also to restore and save the world.

While we destroy the heaven above and the earth below, God promises a renewed heaven and earth. Even the Apostle Paul spoke of creation being liberated from a bondage of decay and destruction. If we follow the ways of Jesus, we too must “fall again” with him (as the Station of the Cross reads).

Falling with Jesus is to feel the suffering of all creation as a result of the harm we inflict upon the world and all who dwell in it.

The incarnation is not just how God became human in Jesus; it is also how God continues to come to us and in us as the people of Jesus who are filled with the Spirit of Jesus. If we follow Jesus, we too must see and experience death as a way to new life. If we follow Jesus, we too must seek to create and renew heaven and earth. If we follow Jesus, we too must strive to demonstrate the compassionate care not only to each other but to all created beings.

The Catholic Canticle of Daniel 3:74-82 compels us to join with creation in worship of our Maker:

Let the earth bless the Lord;

let it sing praise to him and highly exalt him forever.

Bless the Lord, mountains and hills;