A Joint Declaration on Life

Having coordinated these past few months, a group of Christians from the Evangelical and Catholic tradition have developed the following Joint Declaration on Life. Our goal is to build a bridge between those who seek to defend human life and those who seek to protect creation. The document is being sent to many for signing, and soon a website will be developed for wider distribution. But for now, read through the text and, if you're interested in  signing it, email your name and affiliation to catholicecology@aol.com, or just include that information in the comment section below.

“I will recall the covenant I have made between me and you and all living beings . . ." (Genesis 9:15)

We, the undersigned, Christians of both the Evangelical and Roman Catholic traditions, share this mission: building unity among those who defend the dignity of the human person and those who promote the health of the natural environment. 

We establish our mission on biblical principles, we build on the wisdom and insights of ancient and contemporary Christian leaders, we see the increasing impact of ecological degradation on human life, and we invite dialogue with all women and men of good will who desire to protect the integrity of life and to steward the vital resources which sustain all life.

We are convinced of, and so we declare to others, the great links between human life and God’s creation. We also understand that these links do not imply equivalencies between particular moral concerns and issues. We therefore do not demand equalities among the myriad matters of life where none exist. Rather, we seek to call attention to, and benefit from, naturally occurring relationships between human life—from conception until natural death—and the ecological systems that sustain and foster it.

1.                          Biblical Principles:  “I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. Choose life, then, that you and your descendants may live….” (Deuteronomy 30:19). The Christian proclamation is rooted in the choice between life and death. Indeed, throughout Christian Scripture, the incarnational message of salvation inextricably links the redemption of humanity and the renewal of God’s creation, most particularly in:

                                                                 i.      the Genesis creation accounts;

                                                               ii.      the deliverance from Egypt, through the giving of the law;

                                                             iii.      the Psalms praising the Creator and His Creation;

                                                             iv.      the utterances of the Prophets of Israel and their fulfillment in the Gospel proclamation of the Incarnation, Passion, Death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus Christ;

                                                               v.      the Pauline tradition of “all creation” groaning in anticipation of the New Heavens and the New Earth, which is promised to us in the Prophets, the New Testament, and especially in the Book of Revelation.

2.                          Christian Thought: In the early fifth century, St. Augustine reflected on the revelation that the entire created order is “very good” (Genesis 1:31). He observes:

such is the force and power of completeness and unity, that many things, all good in themselves, are only found satisfying when they come together and fit into one universal whole. The universal, the universe, of course takes its name from unity.

In the thirteenth century, St. Bonaventure uses St. Paul to teach that all creatures share in signifying “the invisible attributes of God, partly because God is the origin, exemplar, and the end of every creature.” In 2007, Pope Benedict XVI wrote:

[o]ur duties towards the environment are linked to our duties towards the human person, considered in himself and in relation to others. It would be wrong to uphold one set of duties while trampling on the other. Herein lies a grave contradiction in our mentality and practice today: one which demeans the person, disrupts the environment and damages society.

                        Noted evangelist Billy Graham commended in 1983:

The growing possibility of destroying ourselves and the world with our own neglect and excess is tragic and very real.  I find myself becoming more and more an advocate of the true ecologist where their recommendations are realistic.  Many of these people have done us an essential service in helping us preserve and protect our green zones and our cities, our waters and our air…

And in 1984, theologian Francis Schaeffer stated that humanity’s actions:

have a direct impact on the  natural realm.  That relationship is also moral. Why?  Because its involves a moral choice that impacts the environment and people … A truly Biblical Christianity has a real answer to the environmental crisis. It offers a balanced and healthy attitude to nature, arising from the truth of its creation by God; and it offers hope of substantial healing in nature of some of the results of the Fall, arising from the truth of the redemption in Christ. 

3.                          Impacts on Life and God’s Creation: Modern science is increasingly documenting the damage done by environmental toxins to human life from the moment of conception—and even before conception—throughout all stages of development and growth. The Mount Sinai Journal of Medicine (Volume 78, Issue 1, January/February 2011) finds that “research initiatives have delineated the exquisite vulnerability of fetuses, infants, and children to toxic hazards in the environment.” The Mount Sinai Hospital Children’s Environmental Health Center states that “[s]cientific evidence is strong and continuing to build that hazardous exposures in the modern environment are important causes” of diseases such as:

                                                                 i.      Asthma;

                                                               ii.      Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder;

                                                             iii.      Autism;

                                                             iv.      Dyslexia;

                                                               v.      Childhood leukemia;

                                                             vi.      Brain cancer;

                                                           vii.      Childhood obesity; and

                                                         viii.      Type 2 diabetes

Other health concerns related to environmental toxins are the early onset of puberty and Parkinson’s Disease found in younger ages. Furthermore, while mercury is an often-cited toxin that damages human growth, other “[t]oxic chemicals in the environment—lead, pesticides,toxic air pollutants, phthalates, and bisphenol A—are important causes of disease in children, and they are found in our homes, at our schools, in the air we breathe, and in the products we use every day.” Lastly, recent studies from the Center for Disease Control and Prevention are showing that the rates of childhood autism have increased and that the incidents of childhood cancers continue to rise. In demonstrating the violence done to human life—born and unborn—by poisons released into our air, water, and food supply, such studies provide empirical evidence of the link between human life and ecological health.

4.                          An understanding of differences: As Christians, we understand that humanity lives in a fallen state of sin. This results in division where God intends unity of will and purpose. Such division, existing everywhere, tragically is found among those who seek to live and preach the Gospel’s message of life. Thus, some concentrate on the great good of protecting human life from the moment of conception to a natural death. Others focus on ecologies, biodiversity, and non-human species. Over time, mistrust and discord have risen among particular groups, especially as political ideologies have claimed one cause or another in their individual quests to define and defend what is good. Such divisions must be overcome, especially among Christians, who proclaim that the human person is made in the image of the One, Triune God.

5.                          An invitation to dialogue: We then invite all men and women of good will to dialogue. We propose that there are common missions and common ground between those who labor to maintain healthy ecosystems and those who battle the cultural acceptance of abortion, embryonic stem-cell research, infanticide, and euthanasia. We implore those who defend human dignity and those who defend the created order to see the unity and interconnectedness of all life. We understand that abortion, embryonic stem-cell research, and euthanasia, intrinsically involve the willful termination of a human life, whereas the loss of life caused by environmental toxins is often unintended. Nevertheless, the damage done to the human person by toxins is real, debilitating, often deadly, and it is always the result of human choices. Thus, we see the issues of human dignity and ecological integrity as linked by our choices for either a blessing or a curse—for life or for death.

6.                          Our joint declaration: So that together we may all choose well—and encourage others to do so—we urge understanding and the building of bonds between those who, in their own way and through their own calling by God, seek to champion and defend the great, glorious, and mysterious gift of life—human life, born and unborn, and life throughout all creation, here and now, and for the ages and generations to come, until the end of time.

St. Giles: A seventh-century Catholic ecologist

I posted a few months ago about a keynote speaker at an interfaith conference on climate change. In his talk, he violently misrepresented the Church’s ancient views on, and work with, ecology.

While I know the error of such statements, it’s always good to learn more about how Catholics throughout the ages have embraced an ethic of what we today call environmentalism. And so I was delighted to hear a paper from Monica Ehrlich, a Ph.D. Candidate at the University of Virginia, who introduced me to a little-known seventh-century environmental activist: St. Giles.

Ms. Ehrlich’s paper was given in May at the International Congress of Medieval Studies at Western Michigan University. Her excellent research and presentation piqued my interest so much that I asked to interview her, which she graciously found the time to do.

And so, we meet St. Giles (c. 650 – c. 710). The story goes that Giles was an Athenian-born Christian who settled in southern France. He would become something of an exemplar for many in the medieval world, mostly for his critique of aristocratic land use, hunting, and feudal cultures of consumption. This critique elevated agriculture over hunting as well as simple living over the banquet/feasting culture. While the word “environmentalist” or the modern concept of what that word means were not in existence in the seventh century, or the medieval world, St. Giles was very much concerned with how human consumption and particular worldviews can do violence to nature.

By building off existing studies of the subjugation of the “other” (such as male domination of female, rich over poor) what we know of St. Giles points to his concern that the land can also be seen as an “other” of man, one that is subjugated and not seen as a gift from God to be shared with our neighbors, but as property which can be used, owned, and left as an inheritance. Giles saw the land with an environmental ethic. This allowed him to use it to, for instance, build hospitals for the poor rather than advance his own material wealth. (Here, we find echoes of St. Basil, who did very much the same thing in fourth-century Cappadocia, in modern-day Turkey.)

Indeed, we learn from Ms. Ehrlich that Giles’ view of the land and creation was connected to the Beatitudes—to humility and care for those with less, to sharing rather than hoarding for personal gain. We can also learn something about Giles in his choice of a home—a hut built in prime royal hunting grounds. Giles also built a hut for a beloved deer, one he had a rather strong bond with and sought to protect from hunters.

Given severe laws about the protection of the king’s hunting lands (although there were often exemptions for religious uses) Giles construction of these huts was rather subversive. Moreover, his protection of a prize deer—which he would defend with his own body and life—is a particularly intriguing element of who he was and what he prioritized.

For instance, in some hagiography, Giles would be traveling with kings and be offered a feast and sumptuous bedding. But he would refuse both. Such lifestyles did not fit his eco-ethic of simplicity—an ethic that was common among hermits/monastic lifestyles across the centuries until the modern day—as we can find in, for instance, the Rule of St. Benedict.

We also know that Giles was a vegetarian. He would eat only what fruits and vegetation he could find. This in itself is a sort of critique of the prevalent banquet and hunting culture of his age. Indeed, Giles’ vegetarian lifestyle seems to be built literally from Genesis 1:28-29, which reveals that God gave humanity only vegetation and seed-bearing fruits to eat; the use of animals as food consumption is not in the blueprint of Genesis.

The bottom line of all this is that at the core of St. Giles’ love of the land and of creatures—and of his critique of the gluttony of the wealthy—is the Gospel of Jesus Christ and the teachings of the Church. Giles understood (perhaps rather elaborately) what it meant to be a protector of the natural world and, thus, how we humans must be related to it. This is not to say that all Catholic ecologists need to live like St. Giles—I certainly won't be building a hut on state property for a deer, at least I don't think I will. And I don't think I'll be a vegetarian any time soon.

But what we can acknowledge from Giles is the strong attraction across the Church's ages to what we today call ecology, an  attraction to know, live by, and protect the natural order, all of which is rooted in the eternal revelation of the Triune God.

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Protecting the Sanctity of All Life: A movement for life

Is ecology a life issue? Does it fit among conversations about abortion, embryonic stem cell research, and euthanasia?

These questions are the undercurrent of a global conversation about what it means to be human, to be alive, and to be a protector of life. And while some have been eager to connect ecology with traditional pro-life issues, others resist.

But one important voice in particular has sought to weave ecology into traditional pro-life issues. As any reader of this blog knows (just look at the header), Pope Benedict XVI has built on his predecessor’s eco-foundation and taken the subjects of natural and human ecology to new heights.

If only more of us would follow him.

But in time—sooner and not later—the eco-implications of traditional pro-life issues and the life implications of ecology will intertwine into a cultural strand of DNA that will reconfigure our public discourse and, thus, force the very real choice between life and death.

It’s already beginning: As contraceptives and abortifacients grow in popularity and become mandated by governments, we're learning of their effects on nature. We are also learning of how pesticides are harming bee populations—which threatens our food supply; we are finding links between our chemicals and growing levels of autism; we’re finding toxins in garden supplies; we’re projecting dangerous alterations to our oceans’ chemistry, threatening shellfish and other creatures that swim the depths. All in all, it’s becoming more and more difficult to pretend that we’re not poisoning our world and ourselves.

Yes, sooner and not later, we as a race, as cultures, as nations—as individuals—will come face to face with a choice. Life or death. This was the revelation to the Nation of Israel in its earliest days. It is the choice that echoes onwards in early Christian texts—both the canonical scriptures and other texts like the Didache.

Indeed, Christianity offers the fullness of this encounter with a choice between life and death, because in Christianity we encounter a Person—one Who has defeated death and offers life. If only we follow Him.

Thus, for the Catholic ecologist—and all our Christian sisters and brothers who seek the good of the Earth because they seek the good of life—the answer to the dizzying amounts of death around us is Christ.

To bring this prophetic news to a dying world, Christians of good will must band together and preach the good news of creation, of life, and of the source of both—God.

This is where PSALM comes in: Protecting the Sanctity of All Life Movement. It’s a small group at present, but it will grow and it must. The unity of life requires it and a healthy future for our race demands it.

More information on PSALM will be coming. But for now, if you’d like to know more, you can email catholicecology@aol.com and we’ll put you in touch with others that seek to keep ecology centered where it—where all life—belongs: in Christ.

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Motherhood—on Earth and in Heaven

May 2012

May is the month of mothers. Catholics devote it to our Blessed Mother and on the second Sunday we join everyone else to celebrate Mother’s Day. It would be fitting, then, to also acknowledge Earth—our elemental mother, the physical foundation that provides our air, food, and water. Each of these three mothers in their own way makes life possible in the fullest physical and spiritual notions of what it means to be human.

During one of the few winter storms this past winter, I met a colleague after a pro-life Mass. He told me about his mom’s passing and the care that she required while ill, which he dutifully and lovingly provided. He spoke of the faith that they shared, especially at their final farewells.

The death of mothers and grandmothers—as well as their illnesses and decline—are painful times for the children that they conceived, carried, and cared for. In this and so many other ways, motherhood transcends cultures, ideologies, and incomes. Motherhood binds humanity. And so in this month of motherhood, we must examine our relations with our heavenly, earthly, and elemental mothers and, in every way possible, be attentive children—as the Fourth Commandment requires and my colleague exemplified.

We must be sons and daughters that care for our human mothers and fight for their lives when they become entangled in an increasingly complex medical industry. We must not succumb to the growing wave of “caring” euthanasia that is sweeping the Western world. We must protect all life, especially the women that said yes to it in the first place. We must passionately champion and celebrate the vocation and gift of motherhood in ways that challenge others to do likewise.

We must also care for creation—for Mother Earth, a term that to some may seem dripping with paganism, but really, given what creation offers the human person, the term just makes sense. And so we must do the things that good daughters and sons do: Appreciate creation’s divinely ordained, cosmic qualities that allow life to thrive while not taking more from our planet than is healthy; we must not alter ecosystems beyond what they can manage; we must not become a cancer within this fallen but still wondrous Eden.

And of course, to do all this, we Catholics must remain close to our Blessed Mother—Mary, Queen of Heaven and Earth. Our individual and parish devotions in May are a celebration of humanity’s role in salvation history—of Mary’s great, selfless Yes to God. And certainly, this Yes continues throughout human history: Through the intercession of the Blessed Mother, lives have been changed and addictions soothed; cruel, atheist empires have fallen; cultures that committed human sacrifice have converted and knelt before the Cross of Christ; and countless children have been saved from abortionists through prayer and the conversion of many a moms’ heart.

And so for our moms—here or passed on—and for our planet’s ecological health (which dictates the possibility and quality of life for future generations) let us keep the motherly meaning of May always in our hearts as we pray, “O God, you willed that, at the message of an angel, your word should take flesh in the womb of the Blessed Virgin Mary; grant to your suffering people, that we, who believe her to be truly the Mother of God, may be helped by her intercession with you. Through the same Christ our Lord.”

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Learning from Earth Day on a Sunday in Easter

April 2012.

Note: This column developed out of the April 11th post, below.

Ecology, some say, has no place in Christian theology or practice. It encourages the worship of nature and it minimizes the role of humanity within that natural order.

These and other complaints have merit and must be heard—especially with Earth Day, April 22, coinciding this year with a Sunday.

In the midst of my work to explore Catholic ecological thought—and for all my delight in sharing and unpacking the eco-statements of the Holy Father and our bishops—I understand that without a firm foundation in orthodoxy, Catholic ecologists can stray into pantheism, paganism, and other “isms” that are at odds with Christian revelation.

I also know the dangers of entering into sometimes hostile territory when Catholics work with those of other faiths or no faith at all. At one recent interfaith meeting, the keynote speaker made two seriously flawed statements that did not sit well with me or other Catholics in the audience. His understanding of Christian history and theology was misguided and his words hurt the intent of interfaith dialogue.

Yes, the insertion of Catholic thought into secular ecological communities isn’t always an easy mix. As the Cross reminds us, the world and revelation are very often at odds—but that doesn’t mean that we don’t enter the world and preach the Gospel.

In fact, during the Easter Season—especially this very Sunday, which aligns this year with the eco-celebration of Earth Day—the Gospel readings are the Resurrection accounts, and they have much to tell us (and the world) about the Christian view of creation.

In Sunday’s gospel, the glorified Christ appears in the humdrum human world, offers peace to his amazed followers, shows them his wounds, and joins them for a meal of baked fish. His risen body is substantial and yet at a whim it can come and go and move through matter and, yes, eat. Two millennia before Albert Einstein exploded our understanding of physics with the mathematical relationship between energy and matter, the Risen Christ demonstrated this relation to his bewildered disciples—and he incorporated within it will, intellect and love.

For Catholic ecologists, these accounts testify to the goodness of creation as revealed in the first chapter of Genesis. Given the importance of the post-Resurrection human body—and the very proclamation of Resurrection!—early Catholics were loath to accept a belief that ran deep in pagan antiquity: that the human body was a prison from which we must escape. Instead, the early church battled to defend the goodness of all creation—of both spirit and matter, of both soul and body.

But this battle was never fully won. Modern-day pagans still see death as freedom from an inherently evil material world. And some of our well-meaning brothers and sisters in Christ remain unwilling to embrace the notion that creation is a great good that cannot be poisoned or ignored without distorting core Christian theological principles.

Now more than ever we see the implications of dismissing the material world. For instance, modern science is showing us that our own human bodies are increasingly becoming infested with toxins—chemicals that we make, misuse and improperly dispose. Such chemicals, like mercury, even end up in the fish that we eat—a particularly troubling reality for pregnant women. It would seem that there is a direct link between a cultural disdain for Christianity’s Incarnation—as well as the meaning of Catholicism’s sacramental underpinnings—and the damage we’re inflicting to ourselves and our children, born and unborn, through invisible forms of chemical warfare.

Let us pray, then, that throughout the Easter Season, all Christians will reflect on the Resurrection accounts and see the great good of creation that sustains us all. Let us acknowledge that, even with all the potential dangers, we must fear not and engage our neighbors (and ourselves) in ecological discussions, founding them always on the Good News of Jesus Christ. After all, it only makes sense that we seek to sustain the ecosystems that sustain us if we wish to truly and fully proclaim Resurrection!

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Nature and Resurrection: "Have you anything here to eat?"

While they were still speaking about this, he stood in their midst and said to them,"Peace be with you." But they were startled and terrified and thought that they were seeing a ghost. Then he said to them, "Why are you troubled? And why do questions arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me and see, because a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you can see I have." And as he said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. While they were still incredulous for joy and were amazed, he asked them, "Have you anything here to eat?" They gave him a piece of baked fish; he took it and ate it in front of them. (Luke 24:36-43)

This is a curious Gospel passage. Having broken the barrier of death, Christ appears in the humdrum human world and eats a piece of fish with his friends. His body—now glorified—is substantial, and yet at a whim it can come and go and move through matter and, yes, eat. Two millennia before Albert Einstein exploded our understanding of physics with the mathematical relationship between energy and matter, the Risen Christ demonstrated this relation to his amazed disciples—and He incorporated within it will, intellect, and love.

To be sure, the inner light of the Resurrection accounts still astonishes. These accounts are alive—and fittingly so—with a mystery that human reckoning is slowly unpacking and embracing, especially as we explore the physics and metaphysics of reality.

For Catholic ecologists, the Resurrection accounts testify to the very beginning of revelation—to the goodness of creation as shown to us in the first chapter of Genesis. Indeed, given the clear importance of the post-Resurrection human body—and the very proclamation of Resurrection!—early Catholics were loath to accept dualistic tendencies that ran deep in pagan antiquity. After all, why would the evangelists record such peculiar and consistent details? To the common notion that the material world was inherently evil—that it was something from which to escape—the early Church said No!

But this battle was never fully won. Today, we find a similar debate, and not just among modern-day pagans. Some of our well-meaning brothers and sisters in Christ are unwilling to embrace the notion that creation is a great good that cannot be poisoned or dismissed without distorting core Christian theological principles.

Indeed, now more than ever we see the implications of dismissing the material world. As modern science is showing us, our own human bodies are increasingly becoming infested with toxins—chemicals that we make, misuse, and improperly dispose. Such chemicals, like mercury, even end up in the fish that we eat. It would seem that there is a direct link between a cultural disdain for Christianity’s Incarnation and the damage we’re inflicting to ourselves and our children through invisible forms of chemical warfare that comes with life in the modern world.

Let us pray that over the next weeks of the Easter Season, all Christians will reflect on the resurrection narratives and see the great good of creation that sustains us all, and that we must sustain if we want to truly and fully proclaim Resurrection!

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Easter's Vigil: Many flames divided, yet never dimmed

We know that Christ, raised from the dead, dies no more; death no longer has power over him. (Rom. 6:9)

Unlike Easter Sunday Masses and services, the Easter Vigil—the most important moment in the Christian calendar—begins in the dark.

At the onset of tonight’s Vigil, one of the catechumens—a father in his thirties—turned and looked behind him. From his front pew, he surveyed faces lit by the glow of hundreds of solitary candles that were being extended to kindle others. He had been an individual separated by shadow; now he was united by a flame that, while divided, was far from dim.

The glorious truth about this moment—this communion of souls aglow as God is praised in the singing of the ancient Exsultet—is that each of us at the Easter Vigil is entirely different in our gender, age, size, health, backgrounds, skills, sufferings, and joys. And none of us know if that new Paschal Candle will be the one lit for our funeral this coming year. But in that moment of light, that happy moment, we are unified by those solitary, uniform flames.

And if some of the candles went out—if a poison or a lack of oxygen extinguished flames in one corner of the church—you’d notice.

Ecosystems are much like a parish family standing in the dark holding candles while gazing at the elevated Paschal Candle. They’re a unique collection of living organisms that illuminate each other—and that need God, the source of all life. If organisms go extinct, you’d notice—well, maybe you or I wouldn’t notice right away if an odd species in some far corner of creation died off. But in time we would—especially if the rates of extinction were to accelerate.

As I gazed at the candlelit church tonight, I thought briefly of recent news of global extinctions. This thought reminded me that our need for Christ is as real as ever because humanity’s reach has exploded with our technologies and our appetites.

Flicker: Lawrence Lew OP

We should be clear on this: Species are being extinguished and there are many reasons why. Some are natural. Some aren’t. For instance, a demand for rhino tusks has that species in danger. Sometimes invasive organisms, brought from one ecosystem to another by the migrations of man, are the cause. Sometimes toxins stress—or destroy—particular species, and crucial ones, like the bees that make the wax for our Paschal Candles.

And then there’s climate change.

Alterations in how the planet distributes thermal energy and moisture impact how plants and animals move, feed, interact, and reproduce. Recent studies not only show how this may be happening—for instance, because of extreme weather—but also that we may be underestimating the mechanisms and speed of extinctions because of climate change.

Death, it may seem, is winning. But there have been other times when death appeared equally, if not more, victorious.

Easter is a good time to consider all this because the Resurrection is the authoritative victory of life over sin and death. Thus, if we wish to truly take part in the Paschal mystery—that is, if we truly wish to protect the light of those around us, and our own—then we must not only educate ourselves about ecological matters, but we must have the courage to act swiftly, decisively, and without fear. After all, of what should a people who proclaim He Is Risen! be fearful?

Moreover, the good news of Easter is that the victory is already won. We must merely participate in it, as did our early brothers and sisters in Christ.

By that I mean, when the first disciples of Christ witnessed the Resurrection, they reoriented everything about who they were. They re-interpreted their scriptures and re-thought the nature of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; they changed the day of the Sabbath and abandoned ancient temple sacrifices for the sacrifice of bread and wine at the command of the Christ.

They re-wrote the book of their lives, and so must we.

Indeed, we must do so because we are commanded to love God and our neighbors—and extinction is an affront to the Creator and it is a danger to humans—individually, culturally, and globally.

That dad who was entering the Church tonight in baptism—the one who was admiring the beauty of so many souls holding their candles before them—told me a story after Mass about fishing for his daughter’s dental retainer in a restaurant garbage dumpster in the rain on a cold night. His young girl was distraught at losing the retainer in a discarded napkin, and he did what a good father does—he entered the darkness and reclaimed the good that was lost.

What this dad did, God the Father has done for us. In Christ, God sent His Son to enter sin and death so to reclaim our lost goodness, that is, to reorient our human condition towards life.

Now it’s up to us to respond.

If we are truly an Easter people, then we must value all life, because all life is part of the tapestry of the cosmos and it is not ours to extinguish. We are to be a people that transmit, sustain, and encourage life, not destroy it. We must be a people that lives so that others—here, now, and in the future—may live. And to do that, we need to protect viable ecosystems.

From the Christian context, we must ensure that no corner of creation is without the life of Christ—the true life that cannot be dimmed, the life that gathers, that heals, and that offers ever more life until the end of the ages.

Indeed, we must pay heed to the Holy Father, who in his homily for this year's  Easter Vigil said this:

The great hymn of the Exsultet, which the deacon sings at the beginning of the Easter liturgy, points us quite gently towards a further aspect. It reminds us that this object, the candle, has its origin in the work of bees. So the whole of creation plays its part. In the candle, creation becomes a bearer of light. But in the mind of the Fathers, the candle also in some sense contains a silent reference to the Church. The cooperation of the living community of believers in the Church in some way resembles the activity of bees. It builds up the community of light. So the candle serves as a summons to us to become involved in the community of the Church, whose raison d’être is to let the light of Christ shine upon the world.

Let us pray to the Lord at this time that he may grant us to experience the joy of his light; let us pray that we ourselves may become bearers of his light, and that through the Church, Christ’s radiant face may enter our world. Amen.

Truly, Easter is a time for all creation. It is a time to protect ecosystems by truly orienting our lives, our appetites, our economies, and our cultures to these ancient, true words:

Exult! Let them exult! The hosts of heaven, exult,

let Angel ministers of God exult,

let the trumpet of salvation sound aloud

our mighty King’s triumph! 

Be glad, let earth be glad, as glory floods her,

ablaze with light from her eternal King,

let all corners of the earth be glad,

knowing an end to gloom and darkness!

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Good Friday: What we do with truth

If they persecuted me, 
they will also persecute you. (Jn. 15:20)

The end of Holy Thursday provides a dramatic image: watching my pastor, deacon, and the alter servers extinguish candles and dismantle the sanctuary. Within moments after the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, the main focus of the church is bare and dark, with the central tabernacle open, empty, and cold. But in a side shrine (normally the home of the Blessed Mother) is the Eucharist, reposed among flowers and bathed by candlelight until midnight.

The world with and without Christ are thus on display: a living shrine and a normally robust sanctuary now made bare by deicide.

I thought of this being with Christ or being without Christ while driving home earlier this week after taking part in a panel discussion on the environment. It was held at the interfaith center of a business university here in Rhode Island. The coordinator knew of my Catholic ecology writings and asked if I could speak about faith, even if I was initially invited to speak only as an environmental regulator.

The interfaith center’s auditorium—sun drenched from a glass wall overlooking flowering trees—was about one-third full. My co-panelists were two professors, a lawyer and renewable energy advocate, and a local business owner who has quite the vocation for running businesses green.

I did my best to discuss issues of ecology, pollution, and overconsumption from a Christian perspective—that is, with an acknowledgement of a broken anthropology and dangerous worldviews that seek one’s own ends rather than the common good. I blended faith and reason, selflessness and science, as well as theology and twenty-three years of experience in government regulation. But the audience, students and professors alike, didn’t seem interested—and if they were, I didn’t pick up on it. There were no questions for me, and no apparent interest (at a business school!) in my suggestion that harsh regulation typically is not the sole answer to mankind’s many problems.

Clearly, I wasn’t persecuted at this eco-discussion. But I couldn’t help but think of Christ’s warning to his followers: It’s not going to be easy to teach my ways. There is a vast population that has no interest in placing Christ within daily affairs—no matter how dire the events of the day.

Ecologists of all stripes know something of cynical, unhearing audiences—people who disregard abundant scientific consensus on matters like climate change, tumbling levels of biodiversity, the effects of mercury, or the dangers of toxins from pesticides and other chemicals in our waters. Such truths are difficult to hear, to internalize, because they require a choice between a comfortable status quo and a new way of life. And so we humans often tacitly choose death—death to truth, death of creation, death to civilizations by over-consumption or man-made changes to planetary climate, or death to our bodies by poison. All because we’re not up for a challenge

Christ’s Gospel challenges us similarly and infinitely more so. His truth offers us a different way of living—one that can soften hearts and thus, not surprisingly, answer many ecological ills in the process, and so much more. But we often turn from this truth, hide from it, or, in myriad ways, crucify it.

As a Catholic ecologist, I find discussions about policy and science to be dead if they don’t include the life of Christ. Such conversations are like tabernacles without the Eucharist reposed within: They appear substantial but they hold no living, tangible, transformative truth.

This Good Friday, then, let Catholic ecologists, and all my Christian brothers and sisters, resolve to always bring the living waters of Christ to all that we do—either quietly or overtly—so that the world can see what happens when we try to kill God.

As Psalm 51, from this morning’s Office, reminds us,

Indeed, you love truth in the heart;
in the secret of my heart teach me wisdom.
O purify me, then I shall be clean;
O Wash me, I shall be whiter than snow.

And let us remember that this petition can be answered because of today, because of Christ’s Holy Cross, which has redeemed our fallen, dying world. ‎Indeed, in the words of Fr. John Neuhaus: "Here, through the Cross, we have come home, home to the truth about ourselves, home to the truth about what God has done about what we have done. And now we know, or begin to know, why this awful, awe-filled Friday is called good."

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Holy Thursday: This rich gift, this fruit of the earth

Gethsemane and Church of All Nations, Jerusalem

God of all consolation, you chose and sent your Son to heal the world. Graciously listen to our prayer of faith: Send the power of your Holy Spirit, the Consoler, into this precious oil, this soothing ointment, this rich gift, this fruit of the earth.

Bless this oil and sanctify it for our use. Make this oil a remedy for all who are anointed with it; heal them in body, in soul, and in spirit, and deliver them from every affliction.

As my bishop prepared the Oil of the Sick at my diocese’s annual Chrism Mass, I paid special attention to these words. A few weeks ago, my mom was diagnosed with Parkinson’s Disease. Healing of body, soul, and spirit are now in the forefront of my mind as I watch my mom fight this degenerative illness. She, like the human race and, indeed, the cosmos, suffer from the effects of sin, and so we would all be prudent to embrace God’s offer of Grace.

In particular, when I heard the words “fruit of the earth” during the blessing of the sacramental oils, I was struck with the similarity between those prayers and the prayers for the preparations of the gifts at Mass. They, too, speak of the goodness of the fruit of the earth and the work of human hands, all for the divinely ordained assistance of making God’s Grace—his healing—intelligible to human understanding.

The Eucharist is the prime example of this. As noted in a recent post, the earthly, ecological connections with the Eucharist are something that Benedict XVI has commented on with great depth. For instance:

The justified concern about threats to the environment present in so many parts of the world is reinforced by Christian hope, which commits us to working responsibly for the protection of creation. The relationship between the Eucharist and the cosmos helps us to see the unity of God's plan and to grasp the profound relationship between creation and the "new creation" inaugurated in the resurrection of Christ, the new Adam.  

Lastly, and relatedly, when watching a hundred or so of my diocese’s priests stand at the Chrism Mass and renew their vows, I couldn’t help but smile with joy at the beauty of God’s plan. He dares uses the imperfect creation and sinful creatures to share in the salvation of the cosmos and of souls.

The more one considers all this, the more one sees that the Triduum takes on special meaning for Catholic ecologists.

Beginning with Holy Thursday—with the institution of the priesthood, the Mass, and the Eucharist—these next few days show clearly how salvation history is rooted in the very world that, in the beginning, God created “very good” and ordered. Thus, our relation with the world—and, by extension, with the planet’s ecosystems—mingles with divine relation, which makes for a potent means of participating in the drama of our own salvation. 

And the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we saw his glory, the glory as  of the Father’s only Son, full of grace and truth. (Jn. 1:14)

As we pause these next days to join our lives with the mysteries of the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of the Lord, let us remember the cosmic implications of these events. And let us never forget that if God wishes to use fruit of the earth and our fellow humans to assist in the offering of His grace, we have a special role in ensuring the integrity of the very ecosystems that keep the earth teeming with fruit, with life, and especially with the human family.

After all, remember where Holy Thursday ends: in a garden, with Christ, and the slumbering men who would flee him, but then, with the power of the Holy Spirit, would one day zealously proclaim to a dying world the Gospel of Glory, of Resurrection, and the radical promise of a New Heaven and a New Earth—indeed, of new community for the many.

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Palm Sunday: Why Catholic ecologists aren’t revolutionaries

The suffering Jewish people found much to celebrate when Jesus entered Jerusalem. But in days, most rejected him. What he was coming to do, and undo, would not unfold the way they had expected. There was no earthly army eviscerating the Roman occupation forces. There was no cloud of fire purifying Jerusalem from pagan influences.

There was only this simple, curious man, Jesus, who promised a kingdom that no one could see. In the end, he was arrested, executed, and buried. His followers vanished. His miracles were forgotten. For the vast majority of his would-be disciples, life after Jesus’ crucifixion was as dismal as it had been before.

The lessons of Palm Sunday are ones that Christians must remember in all facets of our lives. Christ came to wash the feet of his followers and die on a cross. He did not come to summon armies. He came to invite, not terrorize. He came to take a road that was counterintuitive to human nature—and in doing so he would elevate our nature forever.

For Catholic ecologists, Palm Sunday teaches important lessons about the strategies needed to protect our planet, its biota, and us. Like Christ, we will be most effective not by summoning earthly forces of change, but in loving our neighbors and inviting them into a dialogue of hope—of showing our brothers and sisters what it truly means to be human. In the end, it will not be our actions of force that will save our ecosystems and our children. Rather, it will be our cooperation with God’s infinite, transformative grace.

I have the occasion of working alongside many scientists, policymakers, and academicians who insist that the only hope for environmental salvation is to dictate the minutiae of everyday life. There is an ugly strain of totalitarianism that swims deep through eco-conversations of late, and I shudder to think of what some would do if they had the power to have their way.

At a recent meeting of environmental advocates that I attended for work, one professor of eco-policy argued that strong, centralized governments were the best means to quickly achieve necessary changes within society. Another participant challenged this view by noting that China and other nations take draconian measures against entire populations to achieve their ends.

The conversation highlighted a growing societal phenomenon of late, especially among the political left: When the good cannot be achieved by education, it is sought by legislation, penalties, intimidation, and, soon, other, darker means.

Now, to be clear: My experience has been that most secular eco-crusaders are people who have the very best of intentions. They understand the environmental crises that humanity is (and will be) facing and they want to help. But without the Christian narrative—and a reliance on God’s grace—ecologists become frustrated with what many of us know to be human sin. This frustration grows, and they turn to various forms of dictatorship if they are in power or violent protests if they are not. In large part, this phenomenon is what the Holy Father wrote about when he was the Prefect of the Sacred Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith in 1984.

Likewise, the solutions to our many earthly crises—ecological and otherwise—are rooted in a telling line from another document by the Holy Father. In his 2011 Message for World Food Day, he says this: “In fact it is a question of adopting an inner attitude of responsibility, able to inspire a different life style, with the necessary modest behavior and consumption, in order thereby: to promote the good of future generations in sustainable terms.”

In other words, you can’t legislate morality. Nor can you coerce, threaten, or beat people into changing their ways without doing great harm to their humanity. On the contrary, the changes necessary to reduce human consumption, to produce goods and energy in accordance with natural and moral laws, and to bring unity of will must come not from the tyrannical power of strong, centralized governments, but from the wisdom of Christ.

And indeed, all people know this to be true—no matter how much they may resist or deny this truth.

After the meeting I mentioned, the professor who argued for strong government dictates asked me how to best work with faith communities to bring about good ends. I was delighted to hear her ask this with sincerity, and to acknowledge that people of faith can encourage change in ways that legislation and regulation could never do.

In fact, what she was saying was what Palm Sunday is all about: If you want to save the world, don’t put your faith in earthly strategies. Put your faith in Christ—follow him and his truth, even to the Cross—and then let him, through you, quietly and with humility change human hearts and, in doing so, change the world.

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