September 13, 2015

Susan Adams

Ordinary Sunday 24     Genesis 1:1-28, 31     Mark 10:35-45

Video available on YouTube, Facebook

Few, if any of us, who have seen the waves of refugees in their thousands trekking out of Syria and into Europe, can fail to have been moved. What has our world come to?

Few, of any of us, who have seen the pictures and heard the stories of the hundreds of migrants packed onto leaky boats or dying in the back of trucks can fail to have been moved. What on earth is happening?

Few, if any of us, who have seen the video clips of the fires in California that are razing forest and buildings to swaths of charcoal (or of the devastating floods in Japan) can help but wonder what we would do if we were living there. Whatever is going on?

Few, if any of us, if we know young people trying to buy a modest first home in Auckland, can help but ask when will it end? What on earth has gone wrong?

It is all far from the vision and hope of the Genesis poet who wrote "God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good."

A few weeks ago I reflected on the 'big story' that we tell as Christians and how in different times and contexts those stories are dressed and glossed differently according the purposes of the story-teller. Today we have heard one of our big stories. We have heard the creation myth from Genesis. This story, is a magnificent poetic reminder to us, to wonder about who we are as creatures of the earth. At each phase of the recitation, from the separation of the earth from the sky; the dark from the light; from the creation of plants and animals and creepy crawlies, to humankind, the poet declares "God saw that it was good."

To be creatures of the earth, sharing the earth and sea and sky with all the other creatures and plants and hearing that it is all so very good, is one thing, it warms our hearts, but to imagine for one minute, that all creation is there for our benefit because we are the pinnacle of God's creation, is quite another thing: it sets us up for a fall – as the story of Adam and Eve prefigures.

It seems to me that we have pinned too much on verses 26 and 28 of the Genesis poem, these verses include the words often translated from the Hebrew as "dominion over" and "subdue". In our all too frequent western predilection for power and control we have stuck with these words, and shaped our God-story around them believing that this poem provides us with the rational for our human superiority over all things, that all aspects of creation, as set out in the poem, are for our benefit. And, if they don't seem to be working for us we are not above believing a few earnest and well phrased prayers will fix it! This perspective has found its way into many theological frameworks even, if we are not alert, into more progressive theology where we are keen to see the god-spark in ourselves.

The ancient Greeks knew this thinking was erroneous, they knew that this was 'hubris', the most destructive aspect of being human: thinking that we were equal to the gods with power over the dynamics of earth and over creaturely relationships even as they had. The ancient Hebrews knew this thinking was misleading too, and so the creation poem reminds us we are but one of God's creations and all of creation was good, with its place and contribution. In the gospel of Mark we are told of an occasion in which Jesus tries to point out to his friends who are wanting special favours that they are one of many and have responsibilities – reminding them they must look after others, they must serve the needs of the many and not seek privileges for themselves or think they are better somehow and deserve more. it must have been a salutary lesson for those friends after all their commitment and hard work.

Notwithstanding the warnings that are liberally scattered through our scriptures, of what would become of us if we let 'hubris' get out of hand; if we let our pride in being human and our sense that we can manage/control all things, blind us to our limitations, we have continued along this path. Now we find ourselves on a precipice as it were, and very soon our little planet-earth will be unable to help us. Planet-earth will be unable to keep restoring the harmony, the balance of creation that we keep destroying; it will be unable to keep cleaning the air we pollute, to continue purifying the water we contaminate, to keep the seas stocked and the soils fertile.

Our story needs retelling for our time. We are the storytellers today. Like all good myths the story we tell needs the power to bring about change in the hearts and minds our contemporaries.

But, we have created a conundrum for ourselves, and this needs careful thought as we embark on our story-retelling. While we have taken to heart the story of incarnation – God in human form – and relocated the divine spark from heaven to earth now to be found in each of us, and so brought the all powerful king and judge-God to earth to live amongst us and within us as the vulnerable power of love and compassion, we haven't always recognised vulnerability and compassion as that god-spark so we have failed to take on the responsibility of godly risk-management for how we inhabit the earth. We haven't sought to live with gentleness and humility caring for our companion creatures and for the ground beneath our feet.

It seems we are failing to accept that the trajectory – the path of unending GDP growth that we are on - is not about love and compassion but rather about greed and hubris.

It is time to wake up to the unwelcome fact that no matter how smart and technologically advanced we are today, we cannot control the unintended outcomes of all we do, even when our intentions are good! To maintain our lifestyle we are outstripping the natural processes of the earth to restore itself; we are destroying animals and plants at an alarming rate; we are destroying our own life-giving habitat.

So let us reframe the poem, let us recite it using a different interpretation of the Hebrew word rada: instead of 'dominion' and 'subdue' let us use 'care-giving' and 'nurturing': let us help the earth to fulfil its life-giving potential and so be life-givers ourselves rather than life-takers; be restorers not destroyers, be celebrators of abundance rather than hoarders on account of scarcity. We need a partnership, the interdependence of earth and creatures and plants if humanity is to survive.

But, while we speak, while we tell the story of humanity's relationship with the earth in a different way, the urgency of our predicament requires we demand action by those who make decisions on our behalf. Whatever their political stripe we need to see commitment to managing climate-change by a move away from fossil fuels; we need to demand commitment to managing land fertility and its capacity to produce food; we need to hear commitment plans for restoring housing to the place of homes rather than investments; we need evidence of commitment to wages that reflect the dignity of work and are sufficient to live modestly.

Each of us too needs to consider our part and what we do in our personal lives about fossil fuels and the bi-products we consume, about the food choices we make, and our attitude and expectations about housing and wages.

And then we might say: It was the sixth day. God looked all around at everything that was made: light and darkness; earth and seas and sky; plants and birds and fish and creepy crawlies; the sun, the moon and the stars. And God said "that's good, that's very good." Then God took some time to think, and to wonder about all that had been created. Then God said "I need some help to care for all these wonders. Let there be humankind to help me, let their hearts reflect my heart and be filled with love for all creation." And so it was, and God looked around again in wonder at all that was. Then God said "That's good... that's very, very, very good."