With our ear to the ground – down to earth preaching for the Season of Creation

This sermon was written for the 3rd Sunday in the Season of Creation and is dedicated to Earth and those who suffer along with her. Genesis 2:4b-23 and Romans 8:19-23 were the chosen readings.

September 15th 2024

It’s not all about us. Sometimes it seems like it is, either about the congregation or about people in general. We may be forgiven for thinking its all about us. But it isn’t.

Psalm 148 calls the whole creation to praise the Lord – the sun and moon, the stars, sea monsters and the deeps, fire and hail, snow and frost, stormy wind, mountains and hills, fruit trees and cedars, wild animals and all cattle, creeping things and flying birds, kings of the earth, princes and rulers, young men and women, old and young together – let them all praise the Lord.

It’s not all about us. The whole creation is called to praise the Lord together. Its all about us being joined in praise together.

Today is the 3rd Sunday of the Season of Creation. This Season of Creation is a reminder of our joint vocation; that It’s not all about us, but is for the whole of God’s creation. It’s a reminder of our separation, egocentricity, selfishness and sin.

The Season of Creation is a relatively new variation to the liturgical year, dating back to 1989 when Patriarch Demetrios (of the Orthodox Church) invited all people of goodwill to dedicate September 1st as a special day of prayer for the preservation of the natural environment. It became an ecumenical project backed by the World Council of Churches, the Roman Catholic Church and the Anglican Communion and turned into a season beginning on September 1st and ending on the Feast of St Francis of Assisi – October 4th.

You will see that this sermon sticks out like a sore thumb from today’s liturgy. And we’ve changed the readings so that they fit the Season of Creation better than the ones we are supposed to be reading today. There is a lot of work to be done to develop theological and liturgical resources to respond to the crises we see all around us, and the cries which come from the heart of creation. It’s not something I’ve done before either – it’s all new to me – but I do feel a strong sense of vocation to make this start – including penance for our neglect of the subject.

We have to begin somewhere. Your Harvest festivals and Pet Services are something of a start and echo the faith of the psalmist in Psalm 148.

I suggest we begin by putting our ear to the ground. Hebrew is the language of most of our scriptures. Adamah is the Hebrew for ground/earth. Adam bears that image in his name. God planted a garden.

We may have the Monty Python question. What has the earth ever done for us?

It was from the ground of the garden that God grew “every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food” (Genesis 2:9). From the ground God formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air. (Genesis 2:19). From the dust of the earth God made humanity. There is no other way. Earth is the mother of all living creatures. Everything comes from the earth – except woman. The Genesis tradition has it that she was formed from the rib of the one born of earth.

Those who play with words will know that HEART is an anagram of EARTH. Earth is the heart of creation..

Aboriginal poet Mary Duroux laments:

My mother, my mother,
what have they done?
Crucified you
like the Only Son?
Murder committed
by mortal hand!
I weep, my mother,
my mother, the land. 

The primitive and aboriginal understanding of the elements of creation is that we are caretakers of them. But over the centuries earth has become an increasingly abused and exploited partner, subject to human violence and carelessness. 

We’ve denuded her. We’ve stripped her, scarred her and left her exposed to the elements. We have fought over her and left her covered with blood. We have dug into her and taken her jewels, mining her with human greed. Mine, mine, mine! People fighting over her coal, gold and diamonds, pulling her one way and another – land grabbing. She’s mine, mine, mine.

If we put our ear to the ground we will hear her deep sigh of suffering.

The story of the Fall in Genesis is also the story of Earth. God said ‘because you … have eaten of the tree which I commanded you ‘You shall not eat,’ cursed is the ground because of you’ The curse on the ground may strike us as grossly unjust. What has earth done wrong. But the story of the Fall tells the deep truth that earth is cursed because of us, because of our disobedience, because of our greed, because of our abusive behaviours. Earth bears her curse like so many mothers bear the curse brought on them by their children.

We live in the midst of beautiful countryside. We enjoy looking over it. Our ear to the ground may be deceived by the restfulness of this patch of earth. But don’t be deceived. I bet the politics of the land round here is as contested here as anywhere – planning permissions, boundary disputes – not to mention the ripping apart of the earth to make way for HS2. Earth is cursed because of us – and Earth hasn’t been given her say. The voice of Earth in pain has been suppressed – just as the voices of so many exploited and abused remain suppressed.

When we have our ear to the ground we hear the Earth. She has her say. It’s not a human voice. She screams and groans her own way – and many of her groans and screams will be joining the groans and screams of others. Very often people are suffering grave injustice in those places where Earth hurts. People are hurt most where Earth hurts most, and Earth is hurt most where people hurt most because of the extremes of injustice, poverty and war. Think Ukraine. Think Holy Land. Think fire and flood where Earth and human life are cursed together, crying and screaming together in their own ways.

The prophets of the Old Testament had their ear to the ground. Jeremiah understood her desolation and heard her mourning and crying. Isaiah sees Earth “languishing”. Joel hears the groaning of the animals after fire has devoured Earth’s pasture and burned all the trees of the field.

Paul has his ear to the ground in the passage we’ve listened to from his letter to the Romans. He knows that creation has been subjected to futility and that the whole creation has been groaning … not only creation but we ourselves, who have the fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly. This Season of Creation takes us down to Earth. As the Earth groans, we groan as the Spirit of God groans within us to urgently pray for God’s kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven.

Faith takes our ear to the ground. She keeps us down to earth. Humility is a word which finds its meaning from humus, the soil. The rule of God is that the humble are blessed. How blessed are the humble. They shall inherit the earth. (Matthew 5:5). In their care Earth will find her peace. Her curse will be lifted and with all the redeemed her voice will be full of praise.

Note: The poem by Mary Duroux appears in her collection Dirge for Hidden Art

Go Back to Your Own Country

Go Back to Your Own Country

Let me tell you about countries: nobody has their own
and where we come from moves. Our mothers’ wombs
aren’t where we left them. Continents calve. Jerusalem
holds a tray full of glasses which a scrum of men take
and put back, take and put back, unworried for the weight
she must shift. Let me tell you: some of the countries
aren’t where we left them. Someone pulls a string and six
tumble from Yugoslavia’s pocket. Someone halves
Sudan like a branch over their knee. Someone crumbles
a bailey between Berlin and Germany is one place
again. Only Adam had his own country, and he could not
go back. A country is land that’s learned to disown.

Jane Zwart

This poem has been reproduced with the poet’s permission. It first appeared in Contemporary Verse 2.

If a poem has love I will call it lovely. If a poem rings powerfully true I will call it stunning. This is a lovely, stunning poem which begins so well with a request to come alongside and explain. “Let me tell you” – that is such a good way to begin a poem, and such a good way to start to complicate a racist and nationalistic mindset with the thought that wombs and countries are never where we left them.

Jane Zwart teaches literature and writing at Calvin University and co-directs the Calvin Center for Faith & Writing.

Shoulders, Atlas and Earth Day

earth-158678_960_720If you had to choose a poem for Earth Day what would it be? From my limited collection of poetry I have chosen Shoulders by Naomi Shihab Nye. It reminded me of Atlas and his burden – I share the popular misconception that he shoulders the earth (rather than the celestial spheres). Naomi Shihab Nye shoulders hope in her poetry. She says that her poems often begin with the voices of her neighbours, “always inventive and surprising”.

Shoulders

A man crosses the street in rain,
stepping gently, looking two times north and south,
because his son is asleep on his shoulder.

No car must splash him.
no car drive too near to his shadow.

This man carries the world’s most sensitive cargo
but he’s not marked.
Nowhere does his jacket say FRAGILE,
HANDLE WITH CARE.

His ear fills up with breathing.
He hears the hum of a boy’s dream deep inside him.

We’re not going to be able
to live in this world
if we’re not willing to do what he’s doing
with one another.

The road will only be wide.
The rain will never stop falling.

this poem is from Red Suitcase