Opening Thought
For
the fruit of all creation, thanks be to God.
For
the gifts to every nation, thanks be to God…
…In
our world-wide task of caring for the hungry and despairing,
in
the harvests we are sharing, thanks be to God.
(Fred
Pratt Green, 1970)
Welcome
In
the church we are in the season after Pentecost, also called “Ordinary Time”
– which, when you think of it, kind of changes our sense of what’s
“ordinary.” In the mind and experience
of the church, “ordinary time” is not just same-old-same-old and a return to
“the old normal.” Rather, it’s the time
to remember and to be part of the continuing flow of the Spirit of God and of
Christ into the world through people opened to it, bringing new life, new
vision and new hope into a world hungry for it.
Today
we also mark Environment Sunday, and with that in mind we’re going to focus a
bit on Francis of Assisi, a thirteenth-century saint still beloved and followed
today for the way he saw and became part of the flow of God’s love for all the
world in his time.
Dialogue (an
imagined conversation between God and St. Francis -- with thanks and credit to Karen Segrave)
God: (to St Francis)
Frank, I'm over here. And I want to talk with toy. You know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on the planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, milkweeds and stuff I started aeons ago? I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought, and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colours by now. But all I see are green rectangles.
St Francis:
It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers "weeds" and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.
God:
Grass? But it's so boring. It's not colourful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and beeds; only grubs and sod worms. It's sensitive to temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?
St Francis:
Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.
God: The spring rains and warm weather probably make the grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.
Francis:
Apparentlynot, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it -- sometimes twice a week.
God:
They cut it? Then do they bale it like hay?
St Francis:
Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags?
God:
They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?
St Francis:
No sir, just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.
God:
Now let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And when it does grow they cut it off and pay to throw it away?
St Francis:
Yes, sir.
God:
These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.
St Francis:
You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it, so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.
God:
What nonsense! At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the tress and bushes. It's a natural cycle of life.
St Francis:
You better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.
God:
No!? What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter, and keep the soil moist and loose?
St Francis:
After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.
God:
And where do they get this mulch?
St Francis:
They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.
God:
Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore. Ste Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?
Ste Catherine:
"Dumb and Dumber," Lord. It's a story about ...
God:
Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St Francis.
Meditation
Can you imagine St. Francis as a next-door neighbour? With the kind of “lawn” he’d have? The way he’d probably be living? And the kind of people he’d be bringing home and inviting to live with him, and move in to be neighbours to you as well?
Yet we’re drawn to him, and all the
world loves him. For a couple of
generations now, almost as soon as some became aware in the 60’s of the
ecological crisis, Francis has been held up by people of all faith traditions
and by people of no faith at all, as a saint for our time – a saint for the
greening of the Earth and of humanity, because of the way he sees the big
picture, and lives in harmony with the goodness, the glory and the good purpose
of God in all things, and in all creation held together and working together
towards a good end.
God: (to St Francis)
Frank, I'm over here. And I want to talk with toy. You know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on the planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, milkweeds and stuff I started aeons ago? I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought, and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colours by now. But all I see are green rectangles.
St Francis:
It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers "weeds" and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.
God:
Grass? But it's so boring. It's not colourful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and beeds; only grubs and sod worms. It's sensitive to temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?
St Francis:
Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.
God: The spring rains and warm weather probably make the grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.
Francis:
Apparentlynot, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it -- sometimes twice a week.
God:
They cut it? Then do they bale it like hay?
St Francis:
Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags?
God:
They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?
St Francis:
No sir, just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.
God:
Now let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And when it does grow they cut it off and pay to throw it away?
St Francis:
Yes, sir.
God:
These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.
St Francis:
You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it, so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.
God:
What nonsense! At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the tress and bushes. It's a natural cycle of life.
St Francis:
You better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new circle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.
God:
No!? What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter, and keep the soil moist and loose?
St Francis:
After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.
God:
And where do they get this mulch?
St Francis:
They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.
God:
Enough! I don't want to think about this anymore. Ste Catherine, you're in charge of the arts. What movie have you scheduled for us tonight?
Ste Catherine:
"Dumb and Dumber," Lord. It's a story about ...
God:
Never mind, I think I just heard the whole story from St Francis.
Meditation
Can you imagine St. Francis as a next-door neighbour? With the kind of “lawn” he’d have? The way he’d probably be living? And the kind of people he’d be bringing home and inviting to live with him, and move in to be neighbours to you as well?
In his own life, he was drawn towards
the most unlikely and unloved of people – lepers, the poor, and even Muslims,
which was a huge thing for European Christians in the midst of the
Crusades. He reached out in different
ways to them all, treating them neither as enemies to be defeated nor as
charity cases to be pitied, but as brothers and sisters to welcome and to be
welcomed by, to embrace and to be embraced by – each of them, all of us alike,
carrying in ourselves some unique sign and part of the fullness and glory of
God.
And it wasn’t just people. It was also creatures. He’s famous for his love of birds and his
sermon to them – and we all love that. But
his love and care also went out to fierce wolves and wild dogs and the smallest
of insects – all part of the intricate working together of creation, each in
their way part of the fullness and good will of God at work in the world.
If Francis were here today, he would
probably agree with Alanna Mitchell whose article about the pandemic called
“Green Opportunity” appeared in the most recent issue of Broadview. “The air over Wuhan
is breathable [she writes]. The smog that once blanketed southern
California has vanished. Wildlife is strolling through deserted city
streets. Even pandas are mating again. In the first months of the
coronavirus lockdown, countless images of environmental renewal have circulated
widely on social media.
“We are in an era of human-caused scourges: carbon overload, species annihilation, scorched land, acidifying seas. Now, Mother Earth has breathed a sigh of relief as humans have been inadvertently forced by a single virus to stop harming her. We are witnessing the Earth's capacity for resilience in real time, watching in wonder as she heals.”
It reminds me of the biblical commands about keeping
Sabbath. In Exodus 20 the people of God
are commanded to dedicate every seventh day as a day of rest when no one is to
work – neither them, their children, their slaves, their animals, or even
foreigners among them, which means the land, the water and the sky – all Earth,
is also to be allowed to rest. Just like
every seventh year the land is not to be tilled, but to lie fallow and not be
worked to death just for our benefit.
Sabbath is about remembering and keeping healthy
limits upon our domination of others and of the Earth. And for three months now, COVID-19 has
brought Sabbath rest of a kind to all the world.
In his famous Canticle of Creation Francis gives
praise to God for Brother Sun and Sister Moon, brother and sister wind and
rain, snow and hail, and every kind of weather, also every kind of human
strength and illness – all part of the natural cycle of holy life, each in
their own way helping shape us as true human beings in the image of God. I wonder if he might also include – if we
might also include – Brother COVID and Sister Virus in that family album?
Because families include all kinds of people – people
we like as well as some we don’t, people who please us and people who
don’t. Smooth and sweet brothers and
sisters who we are happy to spend time with, as well as others who are rough,
twisted, abrasive and hurtful who we do need to protect ourselves against so as
not to be hurt unnecessarily or too much by them, but who still have a seat at
the table, have a place in the family picture, are part – sometimes a very
important part of the family story.
I wonder, if St Francis were our neighbour, and we had
a chance to chat over the backyard fence or on the front street at a safe social
distance and maybe with our masks on, about the world today, what wisdom and
what good, faithful way forward he might have to share with us? And what we might learn from him?
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