Partners In Transformation: Toward a Holistic Christian Environmental Ethic

Some years back Christians found themselves in the media’s fickle but intense spotlight when faith-based environmentalists lobbied automakers to stop manufacturing so many gas-guzzling cars and trucks in lieu of more environmentally friendly models. The rhetorical question, “What would Jesus do?” was offered as a consumer yardstick for self-appraisal, introducing an element of morality into what most Americans thought was the ethically-neutral matter of owning an automobile. The obvious implication was that Jesus would buck the bigger-is-better trend in America toward owning SUVs and other over-sized passenger cars for an economical model that entailed less time at the gas pump. Something like a Toyota Prius or a Honda Insight would catch his eye, if you can imagine such a scenario. The purpose of the “WWJD” argument, of course, was to rouse the religious community—and, indirectly, society-at-large—to deal more responsibly and prudently with the natural resources which are the fortunate but limited endowment upon which all of us are so utterly dependent.

At the center of any Christian environmental ethic is a premise so basic to the Western religious worldview that it is easily dismissed as downright unremarkable. It does, however, deserve close scrutiny. I speak of the biblically-derived concept that humans are appointed by God to be faithful and responsible stewards of the creation. The notion of stewardship is so deeply engrained in a faith-based approach to environmental issues that to question its validity seems almost sacrilegious. Even purely secular environmental groups have wholeheartedly adopted their own versions of the faithful steward approach to environmental preservation. It has proven to be a powerful tool with which to contest the unprecedented scale of mind-boggling disregard that now dominates industrial societies’ consumption-driven stance toward the natural world.

But the stewardship model is incomplete. It lacks the dynamism and holism that could make a religious-based perspective significantly more relevant to our contemporary understanding of ecology. It is now widely recognized that the environment is not a thing to be controlled and manipulated merely for societal betterment, but in the words of the anthropologist Tim Ingold, a lifeworld within which humanity is enfolded and fully engaged in an indissoluble relationship of co-dependency.[1]

Part of the missing framework needed to provide a coherent faith-infused environmental ethic is to be found in the biblically-derived understanding that powerful moral linkages exist between humans and the natural world. The current stewardship model fails to acknowledge that the moral universe we live in pertains not only to humans but also to the physical and biological spheres within which we are vulnerable denizens and not distant landlords. The scriptures describe a state of affairs wherein humans dwell in a morally-responsive universe where nature necessarily experiences the effects of humankind’s free-will choices. Those choices—whether good and bad—come back upon us via nature’s ensuing alterations. Biblical epistemology insists upon a divinely fashioned relationship between the natural world and the human race—a co-partnership in a multi-dimensioned universe interwoven with unassailable sacred principles.

These moral connections lie well beyond the direct ecological impact of man upon his environment, as is the case with millions of carbon dioxide spewing vehicles contributing to global warming. A holistic biblical worldview places both humans and nature in a singular animated realm, bound to one another within an indivisible web of existence. In such a world both entities owe their existence to a loving Creator, both experience the noxious effects of the Fall, and both are destined to be interdependent co-participants in a final triumphant transformation. New Heavens only come with a New Earth, and vise versa.

Unfortunately, our dualistically oriented Greek heritage severed this important understanding of connectivity, leaving the spiritual and physical worlds bereft of one another, as though we humans relate to two entirely independent realms. We have come to think that only scientific principles apply to the natural world, and that spiritual concerns are the sole providence of culture and personal experience. In so doing, we have lost our ancient Hebraic inheritance with its knowledge of a seamless universe infused with human will and divine concern. Our Semitic spiritual forbearers lived in a world where matter and spirit were permanently wed. Without that knowledge today, Western culture plods destructively along, operating under an erroneously conceived duality. For the most part we are oblivious to the vital understanding that humanity is part-and-parcel of one overarching and inter-reliant universe that functions under the benevolent auspices of a morally-impassioned Creator.

An accurate biblical worldview places humankind and nature together in a universe responsive to both material and spiritual forces. It is a world where pollution and hatred both have detrimental outcomes upon a unified natural and social world. Surprising though it may be, this point of view is similar to a Middle Ages perspective, wherein humanity was seen to be part of a larger “lifeworld.” At the same time, it is not unlike many worldviews of indigenous peoples, both past and present.

A revisionist worldview will no doubt cause many Christians to squirm. Yet who can deny the many biblical texts describing inviolate moral ties between mankind and nature? From Eden to the New Jerusalem, moral linkages are clearly elaborated in the biblical narrative. When Adam and Eve disobeyed God, the whole creation shared in the punishment (Genesis 3:17). Eden was lost and the original couple banished from an intimate engagement with it. Enmity emerged between the original couple and a mangled creation. Yet the awful event exposed the importance of the permanently woven moral fiber between humankind and the natural world. A similar theme runs throughout the whole of scripture, which again and again relates the deleterious impact of human sin upon the created order (Numbers 33:35; Psalm 106:39; Isaiah 24:5,6; Jeremiah 3:1; Romans 8:20,21).

Once we firmly grasp that there exists an incontrovertible moral union between man and nature, we are privy to a rather amazing insight: The state of the environment becomes an indicator of the moral state of the human race. A failing environment signals a failing humanity. Given the current state of the earth’s hemorrhaging ecosystems, it is hard to arrive at any conclusion except that humankind is faltering miserably, not just as environmental caretakers but as moral beings. Pollution and global warming proclaim that the collective heart of humanity is currently far from well—as if the issue was in question.

The ramifications of this understanding are very far reaching indeed. It suggests, for example, that the greed and avarice of Wall Street might be correlated with events such as recurring crop failures in drought-ravaged sub-Saharan Africa. It forces us to ask if ozone holes may have as much to do with ignoring the victims of poverty and injustice as it does with the use of fluorocarbons. It also means that a healthy environment is dependent upon a high degree of moral uprightness among and between every society and culture. In this light, doing justice, loving mercy, and walking humbly with God (Micah 6:8) become, among other things, a radical environmental act.

In contrast to sin (which the Bible defines as “missing the mark” in regards to God’s intentions for humankind), scripture also associates righteous human actions with healing, wholeness, and even rejoicing within the natural world (Isaiah 44:23; Ezekiel 36:35). Nature is portrayed as a special instrument of God, employed for his transformative work among a generally shortsighted and rebellious humanity. This is most clearly seen in the crucifixion—the cataclysmic event in which divine love flowed down a raw and splintered tree, righting a wayward world hung heavy with the awful affects of the Curse. On the cross, nature framed the supreme act of divine love and redemption. A tree became the stage from which God’s all-encompassing healing enveloped not only humanity past, present, and future, but every molecular structure within the far-reaching cosmos (linking the cross with the Tree of Life in both the Garden of Eden and the New Jerusalem.) From the beginning, nature was delegated a crucial role in God’s moral order and within his comprehensive scheme of redemption. Like humankind, nature is both a participant in and a beneficiary of God’s grand and glorious salvific scheme.

At the end of the day, any environmental ethic or effort that takes no account of a vibrant spiritual dimension can only be superficially effective. For decades this understanding has motivated people of faith who wish to renegotiate a Christian theology to encompass ecological insights and values. One result is the amazingly diverse “ecotheologies” movement, evidenced in the likes of Matthew Fox’s mix of Western mysticism and primal religions, Thomas Berry’s confluence of Catholicism, science, and philosophy, Sallie McFague and Rosemary Ruether’s Christian ecofeminism, and Thomas Derr and John Hall’s version of environmentalism oriented around issues of poverty and justice in the developing world. Many others have also offered important contributions to an emerging ecotheological consciousness—Wendell Berry, Celia Deane-Drummond, Ellen Davis, and Dennis Edwards not least among them.

Most of these writers share the position that the Church must move beyond the language and ethics of stewardship. As H. Paul Santmire put it, “’stewardship’ is too functional, too manipulative, too operational a term, and too tied in with money.”[2] For Santmire, a theology of nature must contain four key elements to be viable: a biblical derivation, centered in the person of Christ, ecologically relevant, and based within a community of faith (practical and lived). Unfortunately, the insights and urgings for a new Christian environmental ethic have been mostly ignored over the years by rank-and-file believers. The Christian community-at-large seems stuck on the old stewardship model, with its inflexible dichotomies and domination thinking. Perhaps what is needed to kickstart a convincing and successful ecotheology are living models, Santmire’s suggestion of a theology of nature based within a communities of faith (one such community is presented below).

But before that can happen, a heartfelt conceptual reorientation must be effected. To embrace a non-conventional Christian environmental ethic first requires a serious commitment to reevaluate a Western cultural orientation that repeatedly places the human endeavor over against that of the natural world. Such a conceptual orientation is the bequest of our agrarian predecessors, who struggled against undeniably difficult natural forces that threatened their sedentary, agriculturally-based way of life. But the nature-as-unruly-and-brutish concept denies a still more ancient and holistic view represented by foraging and herding peoples throughout history. Their non-agrarian worldviews placed humanity firmly within nature, as part of a larger whole. Yet their perspective was not limited to conceptualization only, but deeply based in the emotions of firsthand experience with and in nature. A viable Christian ecotheology must do no less.

An attitude of domineering and manipulation must be replaced by one of loving engagement and mutual cooperation. That is where education comes in. Sunday schools would do well to teach ecology alongside theology; for once a non-exploitive attitude is really embraced—both cognitively and emotionally—appropriate actions will naturally follow. Among the changes will be a desire to work in a harmonious and sustainable set of relations with nature and its sacred processes as they presently exist. Organic farming, crop rotation and strip farming (allowing fallow seasons instead of repeated use of artificial fertilizers) represent a few examples of cooperative relations. Others would include a bioregional approach to natural resource conservation, a measure designed to work with naturally bounded ecosystems instead of artificially drawn boundaries that cater to urban interests.

In developed areas, an ecotheological approach to the environment would no doubt support measures such as walking oriented communities—a recent development aimed at enticing home buyers to live in mall-less subdivisions where all necessities are purposely situated within walking distance of homes. In these progressive developments sidewalks are given prominence, thereby encouraging physical movement and social interaction not normal among communities oriented around driving everywhere. Such developments also provide accessible green areas that promote face-to-face interaction in settings where nature is directly encountered as a vital and valued part of the neighborhood.

In the developing world, poverty often means that nature is exploited as a means of survival. Ecotourism offers hope in this area because it provides a mutually beneficial arrangement between parks and people. Many countries have begun to reorganize their national parks to include the needs of local communities that heretofore were excluded as a threat to the wildlife and wildlands that tourists pay to see. Local economies that depended on national parkland to graze cattle, hunt and trap bushmeat, and burn forests to sell charcoal are being dealt into the ecotourism profits – sometimes even included in the decision-making process. Such is the case with Kenya’s Maasai, who work at guest lodges and run guide services that make preservation far more profitable for their communities than traditional means of subsistence. Likewise, the communities surrounding the national parks in Uganda and Rwanda that are home to the mountain gorillas now benefit from ecotourism in numerous ways that make cooperation with wildlife and forest preservation much more lucrative than illegally exploiting it for short-term subsistence.

All of these vastly differing types of communities and their natural environments represent a progressive form of post-modernism that seeks to recapture what has always existed in small towns and small-scale cultures the world over – a mutually advantageous arrangement between man and nature that has been all but lost in urbanized and technologically sophisticated societies. Namely, in small, rural communities, life has historically been lived according to worldviews where the rhythms of nature determine local economies and lifestyles, and not vise versa. Small-scale societies have much to teach us in this regard, if we can but muster the humility required to learn from them. Among their valuable insights is the lesson that nature has a sacred dimension that must be incorporated into culture if communal life is to be both satisfying and sustainable. Small-scale societies can also teach us to embrace nature as a life-giving entity to which humankind is physically, socially, and spiritually related. And we need not be animists to do so. The seeds of such a worldview are already solidly part of our own Christian heritage, for anyone who cares to look into it.

A theology of nature runs counter to a worldview that approaches nature with self-aggrandizing schemes in mind. This type of exploitative worldview is currently seen in the frenzied effort to find healing substances in nature that can be chemically or genetically altered just enough to produce patentable and profitable products. But that mindset disregards the fact that such changes too often lead to disharmony within the human body itself, which resonates to natural formulations in ways that artificial ones can never successfully emulate. Foods and herbs in their natural state may well hold the key to solving a plethora of diseases and ailments that accompany modern lifestyles. But are we savvy enough to fully explore their potential without the need to alter them for profit’s sake? Currently we are going in the opposite direction, relying on powerful synthetic drugs that are, to a large degree, oriented toward the palliative as they unleash a host of unwanted side-effects. A viable Christian environmental ethic would align with the precepts of preventative health care, thereby moving us further away from the shortcomings of our myopic reliance on allopathic approaches to medicine.

To recognize that nature’s parameters can help guide human endeavors is to recognize that God is already active in the world, already doing something spectacular through the dictates and motions of the created order. Thus, to work with nature’s rhythms is to work in tandem with God himself, and to become sensitive to his unabated activity in all spheres pertaining to life and welfare. When we cooperate with creation within God’s intentional design, both partners benefit and, I might add, God is glorified.

Despite all the self-congratulatory posturing of modern science, we still know only a fraction of nature’s true dimensions and the value of living harmoniously with its vulnerable but priceless treasures. There are, thankfully, efforts to redress that situation. One of them is apparent in a Christian community situated on a 200-acre retreat center in the borderlands between Washington, D.C.’s urban sprawl and the fast disappearing farms and woodlands of the Maryland countryside. Among the community of DaySpring’s diverse and far-reaching ministries is an environmental group called Earth Ministry. Its participants “view the root of our planetary, social, and economic crisis as a spiritual problem. Restoring our human connection and communion with the single sacred community of all life is the great possibility in our present crisis of planet and culture.” [3]

The ministry’s lifestyle and outreach are based on a holistic worldview in which spiritual and ecological issues are necessarily intertwined and approached as such. Some members have built ecologically sound, solar-powered cottages on the land in order to practice what they preach. Their simple but comfortable cottages model sensible and sustainable housing in an area plagued by inefficient, mega-sized home construction that totally disregards the natural environment as a sacred endowment. These believers’ commitment to live “at the intersection of faith and ecology” has led to their church cooperating with the Audubon Naturist Society to monitor the water quality in the stream that runs through the property. They also work with local and state agencies to plant native flora, remove invasive species, facilitate and monitor migrating waterfowl, and maintain a well-balanced and diverse population of native fauna.

Dayspring engages D.C.’s inner-city children with nature through camps, retreats, and classes that teach the value of and need to live in harmony with the natural world—a world many of those children would never otherwise encounter. “Earth Sunday” encourages local children and youth to experience the sacred dimensions of the natural world first-hand. Praying one’s way through fields and forests is common for young and old alike. Other endeavors include educational outreach to the community through adult classes, a four-season greenhouse and garden with bioregionally appropriate produce, and plans for a 5-acre organic farm. Through these and other community service and outreach efforts, DaySpring models how a faith-based community can openly and inclusively live in a sacred, sustainable relationship with the natural world smack in the midst of the dominate consumer culture surrounding them.

What DaySpring and other church-based efforts like it ultimately represent is the humble recognition that we Western Christians have erroneously separated the spiritual and physical worlds, and in so doing inadvertently encouraged and contributed to a destructive arrogance toward nature. These church communities represent an opportunity for Christians and society-at-large to change course—to repent—by offering an approach that embraces God’s manifold creation as a sacred endowment toward which we are not just deeply indebted, but with which we are intimately related and intertwined. They encourage us to engage a far more spectacular and intriguing cosmos than many have heretofore envisioned—one infused at every level with the sacred; where love, community, peace, and justice are interwoven with the biology of life. More than a mere collection of circulating molecules ripe for manipulation, it is a universe where faith and actions are mysteriously bound up with the elements of the Creator’s magnificent design—fashioned into a web of intense moral engagement under his benevolent and purposeful direction.

Both the Church and the human family desperately need to move back into that universe, again to be enfolded in all its divinely-imbued glory. Until we do, neither humankind nor the natural world will ever approach anything close to wholeness. It is only through mutual interdependence at every level that both will thrive as we were designed to do – flourishing in tandem with one another.

[1] Tim Ingold, “Globes and Spheres:The Topology of Environmentalism,” In The Perception of the Environment (London ; New York: Routledge, 2011): 209-218. [2] H. Paul Santmire, “In God’s Ecology: A Revisionist Theology of Nature,” Christian Century (December 13, 2000): 1300-1305. [3] www.dayspringearthministry.org/ Thanks to Dr. Jim Hall at Dayspring for his kind assistance.