J. Patrick Dobel
Browsing
in a local bookstore recently, I took down several of the more general
books from the "Ecology" shelf. Scanning the tables of Contents and
indexes of 13 books, I discovered that nine of them made reference to
"Christianity," "the Bible" or the "Judeo-Christian tradition." Examining
their contents more closely, I found that seven of these books blamed
specific Christian or Bible-based values as significant “causes” of the
ecology crisis.
Over
half these books referenced an article by Lynn White, Jr., titled "The
Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis" (Science, March 10, 1967).
In this short, undocumented and simplistic article White argues that the
root of the entire problem lies in "the Christian maxim that nature has no
reason for existence save to serve man. From the Christians penchant for
cutting down sacred Druidic groves to the development of “modern science
from natural theology," Christianity, White argues, laid the foundations
of Western "arrogance towards nature" and "limitless rule of
creation."
Almost
all similar statements are indebted to White; they even cite the same
examples: grief over the destruction of the sacred groves; respect for
Saint Francis of Assisi. Although few of the authors have read anything
about him except that he talked to birds, they have raised poor Francis to
the rank of first "ecological saint," while conveniently ignoring his
myriad admonitions about asceticism and communal ownership of
property.
The
ecological indictment of Christianity boils down to two somewhat
contradictory assertions: that the postulated transcendence and domination
of humanity over nature encourages thoughtless exploitation of the earth
and that the otherworldly orientation of Christianity encourages contempt
and disregard for the earth. In documenting the first indictment authors
often cite Genesis 1:26: "Let us make man in our image, after our
likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over
the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over every creeping thing
that creeps upon the earth." Some also quote Genesis 1:29: "Be fruitful
and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it; and have dominion over the
fish of the sea and over the birds of the air and over every living thing
that moves upon the earth."
These
texts lead to the conclusion that the Bible emphasizes the absolute
superiority of humanity over the rest of creation. And this relation must
be primarily one of antagonism and alienation, for "cursed is the ground
because of you; in toil you shall eat of it all the days of your life . .
. In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread" (Gen. 3:17).
Thus
Christianity separates both humanity and God from the earth and destroys
the inherent sacredness of the earth. This alienation is coupled with
humanity’s innate superiority over nature and the divine mandate to
exploit nature limitlessly for human ends -- a mandate that is carried out
in the context of antagonism and an expectation that the earth must be
treated harshly to gain the yield of human survival. Together these
notions have shaped Western culture’s spoliation of the
earth.
In
bringing the second indictment, critics point out that Christianity’s
otherworldly preoccupation also contributes to human abuse of the
environment. Christians are instructed to "kill everything in you that
belongs only to the earthly life" and to "let your thoughts be on heavenly
things, not on the things that are on the earth" (Col. 3:2-5). The
emphasis is upon awaiting "a new heaven and a new earth in which
righteousness dwells" (II Pet. 3:13). In some ways this stress undercuts
the mandates of superiority and rule since it implies that humanity rules
nothing but a fallen and contemptible orb. If the contempt, however, is
tied to an antagonistic human domination and to the need of people to
discipline their unruly bodies through work, it can provide an ethical
framework to support the thoughtless and arrogant exploitation which is
part of the ecology crisis. The thesis linking Calvinism with the rise of
industrialization reflects this ambivalent world-hating but smug and
exploitative attitude.
The
critics see modern science and technology along with notions of unbridled
progress and exploitation emerging from this Judeo-Christian matrix. They
conclude that Christianity must accept most of the "blame" for the unique
"Western" perspectives which have led to the present state of affairs.
This "blame" somehow rings false when the ecologists extend the link to
the later implications of a secularized technology and a liberal view of
human progress.
Looking
for the Roots
The
attempt to discover historical roots is a dubious business at best, and in
this case it borders on the ludicrous. Christianity’s ecological critics
consistently underestimate the economic, social and political influences
on modern science and economy; their approach makes for good polemics but
bad history. Their thesis lacks a careful historical analysis of the
intellectual and practical attitudes toward the earth and its use in the
consciously Christian Middle Ages. They disregard the earth-centered
ideals of the Christian Renaissance and its concern with the delicate
limitations of the Great Chain of Being, and they pay little attention to
the emergence of a peculiarly non-Christian deism and theism which defined
God in the 17th and 18th centuries to accommodate a newly secularized
nature and new developments in science and trade. These critics neglect to
mention the specifically Christian prohibitions which often made religion
a detriment to economic and scientific development.
They also ignore
the rise of the secularized nation-state from the decay of "Christendom";
yet these new government regimes provided much of the impetus to maximize
the exploitation of resources and the discovery of new lands. Most of the
operative "roots" of the present crisis are to be found in the far more
secularized and non-Christian world of nationalism, science and liberalism
in the 16th through the 19th centuries.
Given,
the unsoundness of the theory that blames Christianity for the
environmental crisis, it is surprising that it has gained such remarkable
currency. In light of this fact there are two distinct tasks which
confront the Christian community. First, this thesis should be addressed
in some detail, not only to show its flaws but to discover what ideas and
practices the tradition can contribute to a concrete ecological program.
Second, we must use the vast ethical and conceptual resources of the
Judeo-Christian tradition to develop a God-centered ecological ethic which
accounts for the sacredness of the earth without losing sight of human
worth and justice. In addressing myself to this second task, I will try to
develop appropriate responses to the following questions through textual
exegesis of the Bible: What is the ethical status of the earth as an
entity in creation? What is the proper relation of humanity to the earth
and its resources?
Ecological
critics have nostalgically lamented the decline of "nature worship" and
have spoken wistfully of the need to import "Eastern" concepts of
pantheism or quietist respect for the "equality of all life." Even some of
the most secularized ecologists are calling for a rediscovery of the
"sacredness" of nature.
Although
it is hard to discover the enduring sacredness of anything in a totally
secularized world, we must keep several points in mind about these calls.
First, all cultures, regardless of religion, have abused or destroyed
large areas of the world either because of economic or population
pressures or from simple ignorance. Second, the ethical consequences of
the new nature worship, neopantheism and the militant assertion of the
equality of all creaturehood pose grave problems for establishing any
prior claims of worth or inherent dignity for human beings. The more
undifferentiated God and the world become, the harder it is to define
individual humans as worthwhile with specific claims to social justice and
care. Third, a sort of mindless ecological imperative based upon such
notions is ultimately reactionary and antihuman, as well as
anti-Christian. There are fundamental ethical differences between plants
and animals and between animals and human beings. To resort simplistically
to militantly pro-earth and antiprogress positions misses the vital
Christian and humanistic point that our sojourn upon the earth is not yet
completed and that we must continue to work unflaggingly toward social
justice and the well-being of all people.
The
unique contribution a Christian ecology can make to the earth is the
assertion that we can insist on a reasonable harmony with our world
without abandoning our commitment to social justice for all members of our
unique and self-consciously alienated species. We can love and respect our
environment without obliterating all ethical and theological distinctions,
and without denying the demand that we cautiously but steadily use the
earth for the benefit of all humanity.
The
Earth Is the Lord’s
The
first question to address is the status of the earth and its resources. A
different way of putting this is "Who owns the earth?" The answer of the
entire Judeo-Christian tradition is clear: God. "In the beginning God
created the heavens and the earth" (Gen. 1:3). In direct ethical terms God
created the earth, and in distributive-justice terms it belongs to him:
"The earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof" (Ps. 24:1). As an act
of pure love he created a world and he "founded the earth to endure" (Ps. 119:90-91).
What kind of world
did God create? The answer has two dimensions: the physical or descriptive
and the ethical. As a product of nature the world was created as a
law-bound entity. The laws are derivative of God's will for all creation
as "maintained by your rulings" (Ps. 119:90-91). Things coexist in
intricate and regulated harmony the basic postulate of science, mythology
and reason. Although we have a world of laws, it is also a world of bounty
and harmony. For it had been promised that "while the earth remains,
seed-time and harvest shall not cease" (Gen. 8:22). It was arranged "in
wisdom" so that in the balance of nature, "All creatures depend upon you
to feed them . . you provide the food with a generous hand." God's
presence ultimately "holds all things in unity" (Col. 1:16-20) and
constantly "renews" the world (Ps. 104:24-30). This world abounds in life
and is held together in a seamless web maintained by God-willed
laws.
In
ethical terms, God saw that the world was "very good" (Gen. 1:31). In love
and freedom he created the world and valued it as good. All the creatures
of the world also share in this goodness (I Tim. 4:4). This does not mean
that the world is "good for" some purpose or simply has utilitarian value
to humanity. The world, in its bounty and multiplicity of life, is
independently good and ought to be respected as
such.
As an
independent good, the earth possesses an autonomous status as an ethical
and covenanted entity. In Genesis 9:8-17, God directly includes the earth
and all the animals as participants in the covenant. He urges the animals
to "be fruitful and multiply." Earlier in Genesis 1:30, he takes care
specifically to grant the plant life of the earth to the creatures who
possess "breath of life." In the great covenant with Noah and all
humanity, lie expressly includes all other creatures and the
earth.
And God
said, "This is a sign of the covenant which I make between me and you
and every living creature that is with you, for all future
generations: I set my bow in the sky, and it shall be a sign of the
covenant between me and the earth" [emphasis
added].
The
prophets, Isaiah especially, constantly address the earth and describe its
independent travail. Paul describes the turmoil and travail of the earth
as a midwife of all creation and redemption (Rom. 8: 18-22). The earth
must be regarded as an autonomous ethical entity bound not just by the
restraints of physical law but also by respect for its inherent goodness
and the covenanted limitations placed upon our sojourn. Perhaps we must
think seriously of defining a category of "sins against the
earth."
The
proper relation between humanity and the bountiful earth is more complex.
One fact is of outstanding moral relevance: the earth does not belong to
humanity; it belongs to God. Jeremiah summarizes it quite succinctly: "I
by my great power and outstretched arm made the earth, land and animals
that are on the earth. And I can give them to whom I please" (Jer. 27:5).
For an ecological ethic this fact cannot be ignored. The resources and
environment of the earth are not ours in any sovereign or unlimited sense;
they belong to someone else.
A Trust
for Future Generations
Humanity's
relation to the earth is dominated by the next fact: God "bestows" the
earth upon all of humanity (Ps. 115:16). This gift does not, however,
grant sovereign control. The prophets constantly remind us that God is
still the "king" and the ruler/owner, to whom the earth reverts. No one
generation of people possesses the earth. The earth was made "to endure"
and was given for all future generations. Consequently the texts
constantly reaffirm that the gift comes under covenanted conditions, and
that the covenant is "forever." The Bible is permeated with a careful
concern for preserving the "land" and the "earth" as an "allotted
heritage" (Ps. 2:7-12).
This
point is central to the Judeo-Christian response to the world. The world
is given to all. Its heritage is something of enduring value designed to
benefit all future generations. Those who receive such a gift and benefit
from it are duty-bound to conserve the resources and pass them on for
future generations to enjoy. An "earth of abundance" (Judg. 18:10)
provides for humanity’s needs and survival (Gen. 1:26-28, 9:2-5). But the
injunction "obey the covenant" (I Chron. 16:14-18) accompanies the
gift.
There
are some fairly clear principles that direct our covenanted
responsibilities toward the earth. Each generation exists only as
"sojourner" or "pilgrim." We hold the resources and the earth as a "trust"
for future generations. Our covenanted relations to the earth -- and for
that matter, to all human beings -- must be predicated upon the
recognition and acceptance of the limits of reality. For there is a "limit
upon all perfection" (Ps. 119:96), and we must discover and respect the
limits upon ourselves, our use of resources, our consumption, our
treatment of others and the environment with its delicate ecosystems.
Abiding by the covenant means abiding by the laws of nature, both
scientific and moral. In ecological terms the balance of nature embodies
God’s careful plan that the earth and its bounty shall provide for the
needs and survival of all humanity of all
generations.
The
combined emphases upon God's ownership, our trusteeship and the limits of
life call for an attitude of humility and care in dealing with the world.
Only "the humble shall have the land for their own to enjoy untroubled
peace" (Ps. 37:11). Knowledge of limits, especially of the intricacy of
the ecosystems, makes humility and care a much more natural response. The
transgression of limits usually brings either unknown or clearly dangerous
consequences and ought to influence all actions with a singular sense of
caution. Humility and respect do not mean simple awe, or withdrawal from
all attempts to use or improve the bounty we are given. At the very least,
they lead to the loss of arrogant ignorance which leads us to pursue
policies in contradiction to the clear limits and laws of nature and
particular ecosystems.
The
Stewardship Imperative
The New
Testament distills these notions and adds a strong activist imperative
with its account of stewardship. This activist element is a vital
alternative to some of the more extreme ethical positions in reactionary
ecological ethics. The parable of the good steward in Luke 12:41-48 and
the parable of the talents in Matthew 25:14-30 summarize the concept. The
preservation of what is given "in trust" demands a recognition of the
owner's dictates for the resources. We must know the limits and laws of
the world in order to use them wisely. Our actions must be guided, in
part, by concerns for future generations. Above all, we must never
knowingly exhaust or ruin what has been given to us. If doing so is
absolutely necessary to sustain life, then equity demands that we must
leave some equally accessible and beneficial legacy to replace what has
been exhausted
But
there is more involved in being a "faithful and wise steward." Even the
most conservative banker is obliged to improve the stock for the benefit
of the heirs. The parable of the talents makes it abundantly clear that we
who are entrusted with his property will be called to account for our
obligation to improve the earth. The stewardship imperative assumes that
the moral and ecological constraints are respected, and it adds the
obligation to distribute the benefits justly. The steward must "give them
their portion of the food at the proper time." Mistreating his charges,
gorging himself on the resources in excess consumption, and not caring for
the resources will all cause the stewards to be "cut off." True
stewardship requires both respect for the trusteeship and covenanted
imperatives and an active effort to improve the land for the future and to
use it in a manner to benefit others. Ethical proportionality applies to
all those responsible for the earth, for "when a man has had a great deal
given him on trust, even more will be expected of him" (Luke 12:48-49).
An
Informed Humility
The
lessons are clear. Any ecological ethic which takes into account both God
and humanity and does not reduce both to some extension of
undifferentiated nature must begin with a rejection of the unbridled
sovereignty of humanity over the earth. In this rejection is the
recognition that all work upon the earth must be informed by a clear
understanding of and respect for the earth as an autonomous and valuable
entity and the laws of nature on which the bounty of the earth
depends.
These
are necessary but by no means sufficient within the Judeo-Christian
tradition. For the earth, while it possesses its own moral autonomy, is
not God and must not be confused as such. Our own relation to it must be
predicated upon a careful understanding that earth and its resources are
for any generation a restricted gift held in trust for future generations.
We must never lose sight of the fact that a just and informed humility
provides the frame-work for a working relationship with the
earth.
Much
more work remains to be done on the "ethics of stewardship" I have merely.
suggested a few ethical considerations: the obligation not to exhaust
nonrenewable resources, the imperative to provide accessible replacements,
the necessity to improve our heritage modestly and carefully, the greater
responsibility of the advantaged to improve that which exists and to
share, and the obligation to refrain from excessive consumption and waste.
"Each of you has received a special gift, so like good stewards
responsible for all the different gifts of God, put yourselves at the
service of others"
Copyright 2003 Christian Century Foundation. Reproduced by permission from the October 12, 1977 issue of the Christian Century. Subscriptions: $49/year from P.O. Box 378, Mt. Morris, IL 61054. 1-800-208-4097
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