By Bill Scarvie, preached at Earth Ministry’s 17th Annual Celebration of St. Francis: Creation-Care Sermon Contest on October 1, 2011.
Every culture addresses the mystery of creation in its mythology: “Where did we come from? How did we get here? How do we relate to the rest of the natural world?” Genesis 1 is the origin story of the people of ancient Israel.
In a previous sermon, I compared the origin story of Genesis 2 with the origin story revealed to us through a 500-year procession of scientific discovery. My goal was to contrast the anthropocentric and androcentric worldview of Empire emerging from the biblical story with the ecocentric worldview of Earth Community emerging from the universe story. My message was that, if we could change the story, we could change the future. If we can shift from viewing earth as an object to be transformed into money — and ultimately into garbage — to earth as a subject, we have the possibility of a positive future for all of creation.
Just as the revelation of the universe story is a procession of scientific discovery, the evolution of our worldview is a procession of self-awareness. The author of Genesis 1 wrote in light of the scientific understanding of his day. Compared to the science of Copernicus, Galileo, Newton, Einstein, or Hawking, his was naïve. But science is a progression of theories growing out of past discoveries. So it is with theology. Science didn’t throw out Newton when Einstein came along, nor should we disregard the wisdom of the distant past. It is foundational for — not replaceable by — the wisdom of today.
Biblical scholar Ellen F. Davis offers a new agrarian reading of the Tanakh in her book Scripture, Culture and Agriculture. Her reading recognizes the context in which Genesis was written. After 40 years in the wilderness, the Jews settled in the steep and rocky hill regions of Canaan. It was a hard land that nobody else wanted. The land gave up crops grudgingly. There were no fertile flood plains, so agriculture depended entirely on rainfall. Yet it was biologically diverse, mingling the gene pools of three continents.
Prof. Davis reads Genesis 1 as a liturgical poem, most likely written by a priest, and recited ritually to remind his flock of, in her words, the “particular features of their distinctive social and ecological niche and of the blessings and responsibilities that pertained to it.” Like other early Hebrew poetry, repetition with variation sets the rhythm.
• Seven times in seven days, God saw the goodness of his creation: “And God saw that the light was good; and God saw all that he had made, and found it very good.”
• Each day closes with the same words: “And there was evening, and there was morning . . . ” and so on through the six days of labor.
And what message does the poet have for his flock?
• First: There is goodness in God’s creation: goodness in the light and in the darkness; goodness in the rain and in the rivers and streams; goodness in the sea and in the earth; goodness in the sun, moon and stars; goodness in all living things, including man and woman.
• Second: Creation is a gift. All the seed-bearing plants and their fruits are here to nourish you; all the grasses and leafy plants are here to nourish the other creatures.
• Finally: You are commanded to master the earth and all that dwells upon it. You are blessed, but you are not special. God blessed the other creatures, too.
I find the command to master the earth troubling, and I’ll bet I’m not alone. I don’t speak Hebrew, so I don’t know alternative meanings of the Hebrew verb translated “master.” I trust my Jewish Study Bible, Tanakh translation, though. It is the translation used by Prof. Davis. I look to Webster’s dictionary for guidance. There are three alternative definitions for the verb, to master:
1. To have authority over; to conquer, rule, or subdue; to control
2. To become skilled or proficient in the use of . . .
3. To gain a thorough understanding of . . .
Is Genesis 1 a commission to conquer and subdue this genetically rich, yet challenging land? Or is it an admonition to work with the land, to gain a thorough understanding of its idiosyncrasies, and to become proficient in the skills that promise prosperity?
I looked at five different Christian Bibles for a clue; four translated God’s commission as “fill the earth and subdue it.” Only the Tanakh translated it as “fill the earth and master it.” Master was chosen for its meaning. I’m going with the more humble Earth Community orientation:
God blessed them and said to them, “Be fertile and increase; fill the earth and understand it; accept responsibility for it; become intimate with it and you will prosper.
Nourishment and procreation are the only two biological requirements for life to sustain itself. Genesis 1 is a liturgical celebration of fecundity. Seed, cultivated and protected by a people in intimate relationship with the land, is the essence of procreation. Seed, ground into flour for bread, found at the core of all fruits, consumed whole or as grass by animals is the essence of nourishment. To celebrate the sowing, first fruits, harvest, and storage of seed-bearing plants is to recognize seed as the fulfillment of both biological imperatives. Seed is the essence of life. Seed is the sacred centerpiece of the poet’s narrative.
While the poet’s message resonated with his agrarian audience, it has been rejected by modern industrial agriculture. The contrast between sensibilities is stark. The ancient Israelis recognized a covenant between themselves, the land, and God. They lived by a land ethic, described by Prof. Davis as “an agrarian mindfulness that land — this particular land, my land, our land — is inseparable from self “before God.”
Industrial agriculture objectifies land, recognizing its value only insofar as it supplies the food industry at the lowest possible price. The true cost of industrial farming — erosion, pollution, decimation of genetic diversity, and unpaid carbon debt — is irrelevant.
The good news is that we, the people, have become interested in food again: how it is grown, how far it travels to our table, how to make wholesome food affordable and available to more people. And we recognize that food is more than fuel, it is a web of relationships and a cause for humility and gratitude.
The web of relationships begins with sunlight. Plants, alone in creation, can transform sunlight into protein and sugar — grow food and go food. Animals — herbivores and omnivores — eat plants. Life emerges from death; plant bodies become animal bodies. Animals — omnivores and carnivores — eat other animals. Life emerges from death; animal bodies become animal bodies. Plants and animals die and return to the earth. Life emerges from death; animal and plant bodies become fungi and microbial bodies.
Agrarian farmers manage and optimize the transformation of sunlight into food. In the most intimate of relationships, we transform these changing forms of light into our own bodies. Eating becomes sacrament. It is right that we express our gratitude. Here is a simple blessing that does so beautifully.
With gratitude and joy,
We accept these gifts of food.
Into our bodies,
We take these changing forms of light,
That we, too, may be changed.
Other bodies becoming our bodies,
Other life becoming our life.
That there is one body,
one life shared by all,
We vow to remember.
So be it. Amen. Blessed be.