What does the bible have to teach us about Climate Change?

Over the last few decades climate scientists have been warning us with greater and greater levels of alarm about the potential dangers of human created climate change. While the exact outcomes of a warming world will always be a matter for debate it seems to be more and more clear that whatever the eventual effects, worse-case or best-case, this is a problem that we need to take seriously and to which we need to find solutions.

In our modern world the realms of science and religion have entered a quiet truce. Post-modern science has become less sure of its own certainty, while mainstream Christianity has become less strident in its truth claims. The Church has been pushed, or retreated, to the margins of many areas of public dialogue. In the eyes of most in our society Climate Science is principally seen as a scientific problem to be solved with scientific and technological solutions; religious salvation is an individual and private spiritual matter.

Such a worldview is very modern. Ancient cultures did not think in such compartmentalised ways. For many of our ancestors it was quite natural to believe that a bad harvest could be the result of having displeased God, or that a medical illness could be the result of a human conflict. Ancient people had a much more symbiotic view of different elements at work in our world. We moderns have thrown out many of these ideas as mere superstition, and perhaps rightly so in many cases, but we need to be careful that in throwing out this old bath water we do not lose older wisdom that might now be needed.

Is to understand Noah’s flood as a punishment for human sin (Genesis 6:7) that much different from attributing increasingly violent weather to our having burnt too much coal? Or is to understand the drought during Ahab’s reign as a consequence of idolatry (1 Kings 16:31-17:7) so much different from accepting that human caused climate change is causing the increased desertification of North Africa? Perhaps the stories we read in our bible about climate chaos and human action contain deeper truths than might be apparent from a simplistic reading. Many of our biblical stories are parables or vignettes which were edited and refined by generations of oral tradition before being committed to writing. The way an ancient less-scientifically educated people made sense of the world is very different from how we might, but that does not mean we should ignore their experience.

In Genesis 2 the first human is created by the combining of both the earth and the breath of God[1] (Genesis 2:7). Thus humanity is the fruit of a sacred union between God and the earth. We are dependent on both, called to be attentive our dual nature. We are images of both God and the natural world. In genesis (Genesis 2:15) humanity is asked to garden till the soil and to take care of the earth; these are words which come from the realm of agriculture not politics. We are placed in a relationship of inter-dependence, the earth relies on us and just as equally we rely on the earth for our welfare.

It is significant that the breaking down of humanities relationship with God involves an alienation from the earth and expulsion from the garden, the snake and the soil are cursed by God (Genesis 3:14,17-18). Perhaps in this ancient story we can read a warning as to what happens if we commodify and functionalise the natural world, seeing it as existing only that we might exploit it. We are called to be part of a partnership, not to dominate and subjugate for our own short-term benefit.

As the biblical narrative advances we are told stories of nature asserting itself against humanity. Noah’s flood (Genesis 7-8), the famine predicted by Joseph (Genesis 41), the ten plagues (Exodus 7-11), Ahab’s drought (1 Kings 17) and Jonah’s storm (Jonah 1) are all example of this narrative.

For the bible the salvation offered by God is rarely a matter of individual redemption but of fullness of life offered to all of creation, the restoration of the original Genesis 2 partnership between God, humanity and the natural world. This restoration involves a three way process of healing, the healing of our relationships with each other, with God and with nature.

So perhaps it is time to listen more carefully to the words of Job, “Ask the animals, and they will teach you; the birds of the air, and they will tell you; ask the plants of the earth, and they will teach you.” (Job 12:7-8). Isaiah 35 speaks of the wilderness and dry land being glad, natural phenomena responding to divine deliverance. Ezekiel 36 paints a picture of renewal as abundant fields and fruit laden tree (36:29-30). In the New Testament, Paul tells us that salvation is not just for humanity but for all creation which waits with eager expectation for the coming of Christ (Romans 8:19-23); in Matthew’s Gospel Jesus (like Job) encourages us to take our example from the birds of the air and the lilies in the field (Matthew 6:26-29).

Are we in these more environmentally aware time beginning to realise that these words, which we had assumed to be just symbolic, are filled with greater meaning than we had until now realised?

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[1] The text contains a wordplay in Hebrew, humanity (ha-adam) is made from the earth (ha-adamah)

When you hear of War and Rumours of War, do not be alarmed (Mark 13:7)

Sometimes the lectionary throws up very timely readings. After Friday 13^th November, a day which saw deadly attacks in Paris, Beirut and Baghdad, on the Sunday (15^th Nov) we were given Mark 13, perhaps the longest teaching on how Christians are called to respond to War and violence in the whole of the New Testament. The following Sunday (22^nd Nov) we read another pertinent text from John 18; Jesus tells Pilate “If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over...but as it is, my kingdom is not from here”. Tomorrow we have another text of war and turmoil, Luke 21:25-36. “There will be signs ... nations in agony, bewildered by the clamour of the ocean and its waves; men dying of fear as they await what menaces the world”

These readings speak very powerfully in the context of a wealthy world racketing itself up with war fever; in a context of millions of refugees fleeing war and seeking safety elsewhere; and in a context of multiple guerrilla armies, backed up by religious beliefs, filled with young men willing to die for their cause.

The bible’s words read in the current international climate have much to teach us, I urge all of you to spend some time reflecting on these passages. I believe they proclaim a very different gospel from that of our tabloid newspapers and political leaders, and equally very different from the ideology of Islamic State.

We are in a moment when the loudest voices on all sides are proclaiming a message of redemptive violence, if we kill these bad guys then all will be well. This message is fatalist, there is no other way, only through the use of violence can we end this evil which threatens us. Evil must be separated from good in very clear and distinct ways, our group is Good and the other is Evil. Righteous are those who strike to destroy this evil.

Against the overwhelming momentum of this ideology of redemptive violence those voices speaking for a different way will likely be drowned out, too quiet to be heard above the shouting, those that advocate alternatives will be quickly attacked as being weak, or dangerous.

Our gospels were written in a context very similar to that in which we now live. Mark was likely written in the midst of the Jewish Roman War of 66-70; Matthew and Luke were written in the decade or so after the war, John a little bit later still. War, destruction, refugees and persecution of the losing side are realities which hang over the gospels.

Mark 13 was probably written during a moment of crisis. The Jewish rebellion of 66ce has momentarily been successful, but everyone knew that the Roman Empire will return for revenge. In this moment of coming war each side is polarised. Both sides’ absolute belief in the justness of their cause is solidifying, no dissension from this ideology will be tolerated. Each person must decide, are you with the Romans or with the Jewish fighters.

Jesus’ words in Mark are striking, his advice is that his followers should run away! Redemptive violence is a dead-end, so run for the hill (Mark 13:14). As Christians we are instructed to reject the very idea of participating in this violent struggle and simply step aside.

This stepping aside, or running away, is not a passive act. Mark 13 makes it clear that non-participation in violence is itself seen as a threat to those who have chosen the way of violence, persecution will follow from both sides.

Following Mark 13 in which the myth of redemptive violence is thrown down, Mark’s gospel moves into the passion narrative in which Jesus’ alternative ideology is presented, the way of redemptive suffering, or as we modern day Christians might call it, the way of creative non-violence. Jesus does not run away from conflict but neither does he participate. His way is to challenge the very heart of our belief in redemptive violence, to make visible in his own body the consequences of such a path. The centre of Christian discipleship is to embody this way of peace.

We are not called to simply ignore the suffering of others and pontificate on the wrongs of war from the comfort of our cosy warm homes. We are called to challenge the ways of redemptive violence wherever we find them and to risk the consequences of walking such a road. We are called to suffer alongside the victims of violence.

We find ourselves in an historical moment with many similarities to that of Mark’s community in the midst of the Jewish Roman War of 66-70ce. A radical, violence group, motivated by a religious identity of martyrdom and willing to fight to the last man, has taken control of a large swathe of Syria and Iraq. The great military powers of our world are preparing to engage this group in battle.

As Christians we need to find a response fast. All too quickly events will leave us behind. Some Christians will actively bless this coming war and declare it righteous. Most of us will likely find it all too depressing and turn over to watch Bake-Off, Strictly Come dancing or the Premier League.

The real question for all of us is how to avoid these two temptations, how can we reject the ideology of redemptive violence? While still taking the suffering of Syria, Beirut, Iraq, and Paris seriously?

“What I say to you I say to all: Keep awake!” Mark 13:37b. Events are moving very quickly.

Washing Feet

In Matthew, Mark and Luke we can read the story of the last supper, the first eucharist or communion service, Jesus’ new Passover meal. From the very earliest times up until today Christians have regularly shared this meal in many and varied forms.

It is worth reflecting on the fact that in John’s Gospel we do not find a Last supper meal. Instead we find the story of Jesus washing his disciples’ feet. It is curious to reflect on how the Church might be different if from the earliest times we had regularly followed Jesus’ instruction to was each others’ feet? Not just our own feet but those of our neighbours and friends. Would we have had so much division over questions of who was allowed to have their feet washed by whom?

In getting down on his hands and knees to wash his disciples feet Jesus took the lowest place, the lowest social position. We can sense the scandalousness of the act in Peter’s reaction. Is this love taken too far? And yet it is only a precursor to an even greater act of love a few hours later on the cross. What Peter is not able to understand is that Jesus is not able to love from a position of superiority. Love can only ever be incarnated in weakness, from below. If Peter is to receive love then he must allow Jesus to lower himself. Peter is not the source of love, only if he receives can he in turn pass on this love to others by washing their feet. None of us can remain faithful to living the radical love of the gospel unless we are open to receiving this same love.

At its heart the way of Jesus Christ is very simple, we are called to welcome love into our lives through prayer, through accepting the service of others and through our reflection on the bible. If we devote ourselves to these practises with all our hearts then we will not be able to do anything but let this love flow out to others, slowly God will transform us and convert us into a community of love whose most natural inclination is to wash feet. 

You are the Salt of the Earth

To follow Jesus is to be Salt in our World (Matthew 5:13). What can we make of this obscure metaphor?

Salt has many uses. In cooking it is best used in moderation, just a small amount of salt in a pot of food can make a difference while too much can spoil a meal. We are often called to be this gentle, almost imperceptible, transforming presence which makes a positive difference to those around us. This difference can be so gentle that it can be all too easily missed by the wider world. Simple acts of kindness, money given without great fanfare, hospitality offered, the homeless fed and sheltered, food banks stocked and staffed. As Christians we are called to a gentle gospel of quiet humble service to those most in need. Even if we can only do a little bit it is important to begin, to do something and to trust the fruits to God. 

But salt is not always a subtle substance. There is the expression “To rub salt in the wound”. Salt can be used as a way of cleaning wounds, in the immediate moment this cleaning causes pain but this pain is for a greater healing. As Christians we have a vocation to be this salt in the wounds of humanity. There are times when we are called to make painful challenges in the pursuit of healing. We are called to challenge our society’s addictions to over-consumption, to sectarianism, to excluding the foreigner and to the accumulation of wealth. We are called to challenge unfair trade, tax evasion, the trade in arms, destructive fossil fuel extraction and cuts in services for the most vulnerable. We are called to challenge the demonization of the poor, the immigrant and the Muslim. When we become this salt in the wounds of humanity those we challenge will inevitably feel pain, and in their fear will undoubtedly send some of this pain back in our direction. Such is our privilege as part of the body of Christ, to share in the sufferings of Christ (Colossians 1:24).

We are salt of the earth. We must not lose our saltiness.