Isaiah 5:5-7
5 And
now I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard.
I will remove its hedge, and it shall be devoured;
I will break down its wall, and it shall be trampled down.
6 I will make it a waste; it shall not be pruned or
hoed,
and it shall be overgrown with briers and thorns;
I will also command the clouds that they rain no rain upon it.
7 For
the vineyard of the Lord of
hosts is the house of Israel,
and the people of Judah are his pleasant planting;
he expected justice, but saw bloodshed;
righteousness, but heard a cry!
8 Ah, you
who join house to house, who add field to field,
until there is room for no one
but you,
and you are left to live alone
in the midst of the land!
Jeremiah 9:10-14
10 Take up weeping and wailing for the mountains,
and
a lamentation for the pastures of the wilderness,
because they are laid waste so that no one passes through,
and
the lowing of cattle is not heard;
both the birds of the air and the animals have fled and are gone.
11 I will make Jerusalem a heap of
ruins, a lair of jackals;
and I will make the towns of Judah a desolation, without inhabitant.
12 Who
is wise enough to understand this? To whom has the mouth of the Lord spoken,
so that they may declare it? Why is the land ruined and laid waste like a
wilderness, so that no one passes through? 13 And
the Lord says: Because they have forsaken my law that I set before
them, and have not obeyed my voice, or walked in accordance with it, 14 but
have stubbornly followed their own hearts and have gone after the Baals, as
their ancestors taught them.
Hosea 4:1-3, 5:15 - 6:3
4 Hear the word of the Lord, O people of
Israel;
for the Lord has an indictment against the
inhabitants of the land.
There is no faithfulness or
loyalty,
and no knowledge of God in the land.
2 Swearing, lying, and murder, and stealing and adultery break out;
bloodshed follows bloodshed.
3 Therefore the land mourns, and all who live in it languish;
together with the wild animals
and the birds of the air,
even the fish of the sea are
perishing.
5 15 I will
return again to my place, [says the Lord],
until they acknowledge their guilt
and seek my face.
In their distress they will beg my
favour:
6 “Come, let us
return to the Lord;
for it is he who has torn, and he
will heal us;
he has struck down, and he will bind
us up.
2 After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will raise us up,
that we may live before him.
3 Let us know, let us press on to know the Lord;
his appearing is as sure as the dawn;
he will come to us like the
showers,
like the spring rains that water the
earth.”
Ark - by
Simon Armitage
They sent out a dove
It wobbled home, wings slicked in a rainbow of oil
A sprig of tinsel snagged in its beak
A yard of fishing line binding its feet
Bring back, bring back the leaf
They sent out an arctic fox
It plodded the bays of the Northern fringe
in muddy socks and a nylon cape.
Bring back, bring back the leaf
Bring back the reed and the reef
set the ice sheet back on its frozen plinth,
tuck the restless water course into its bed,
sit the glacier down on its highland throne,
put the snow-cap back on the mountain peak.
Let the Northern lights be the Northern lights
not the alien glow over Glasgow or Leeds.
A camel capsized in a tropical flood.
Caimans dozed in Antarctic lakes.
Polymers rolled in the sturgeon’s blood.
Hippos wandered the housing estates.
Bring back, bring back the leaf.
Bring back the tusk and the horn unshorn.
Bring back the fern, the fish, the frond and the fowl,
the golden toad and the pygmy owl.
revisit the scene where swallowtails fly
through acres of unexhausted sky
They sent out a boat
Go little breaker,
splinter the pack- ice and flows,
nose through the rafts and pads of wrappers
and bottles and nurdles and cans,
the bergs and atolls and islands and states
of plastic bags and micro beads
and the forests of smoke.
Bring back, bring back the leaf,
bring back the river and sea.
Introduction to the theme (Al Barrett)
We’ve reached the final
week of our month-long Creation season, focusing on the world that God has
created, and our place within it as human beings. Last week we looked at the
‘just-so story’ in Genesis chapter 3, and we explored the idea of Sin (with a
capital S) as our disconnection: from our fellow human beings, from the
earth and all its creatures, from God – and even from our own selves.
This week we explore
three passages from the Hebrew Bible (the Christian ‘Old Testament’) which
describe fertile earth being ‘laid waste’ (Jeremiah 9), becoming a hostile,
inhospitable wilderness, ‘overgrown with briers and thorns’ (Isaiah 5). We hear
the prophet Hosea describing the land as ‘mourning’. These are glimpses of the
flip side of what we saw in Psalm 96 (in week 10), which tells of the earth
‘rejoicing’, the sea ‘roaring’, the field ‘exulting’, and the trees ‘singing
for joy’. If the non-human world can praise God, it seems it is also capable of
lamenting. And all of this is as a result of what human beings have done: the
response of the earth itself (with the support of its Creator) to human greed,
injustice and bloodshed (Isaiah 5 and Hosea 4), to humans forsaking God’s laws
and not listening to God’s voice (Jeremiah 9). These passages paint a stark
picture of how what we human beings do, and how the earth responds, are
entangled together.
We’ve not quoted the
passage here (mostly because it’s got some difficult stuff about sex in it that
we’d need a whole separate session to unpick!), but in Leviticus chapter 18 we
hear the boldest example of this imagery: when what human beings do ‘defiles’
the land, the land itself ‘vomits out its inhabitants’ (Lev. 18:25). But if we
follow through the story in that book of the bible, we also catch some glimmers
of hope. As the humans are ‘scattered’ and the land is made ‘desolate’, then
the land gets to enjoy the time of ‘sabbath rest’ that it has been longing for (Lev.
26:33-35, 43). And this ‘breathing space’ for the land also offers the
scattered humans some time to reflect on their injustice and hostility, and an
opportunity to discover some humility and to begin to ‘make amends’ (Lev.
26:40-42). God remains faithful, and does not forget her human creatures, any
more than she forgets the earth she has also made. This is also the promise
that the people hold on to in Hosea’s prophecy: returning to God, acknowledging
their Sin, rediscovering their connection with the land, and a renewal of a
healthy ecology (including the return of rain to thirsty ground), all go hand
in hand. This promise, for a people exiled, disconnected, from their roots, is
but a whisper today. But in the coming months, as we approach and then enter
Advent, we will hear it repeated, with growing strength.
Might we wonder, as we
reflect on the experience of the last few months in the grip of the COVID-19
pandemic, both through our own eyes and from the perspective of the earth
itself… have we perhaps caught a glimpse of the earth’s ‘vomiting’, an
involuntary response of the non-human world to human habits of greed and
disconnection?[1] Has
the enforced ‘scattering’ of human beings to our homes, away from our usual
gathering places and access to global travel, given the earth just a little ‘breathing
space’? And has it offered us an opportunity to reflect, repent, and rediscover
a more healthy, connected way of living with each other, with the earth, and
with God? And if the answer to those questions is ‘Yes’, then what – we need to
ask ourselves – has changed, or is changing, for good?
Reflection (Genny Tunbridge)
I knew roughly what I wanted to say in this reflection by
last Sunday evening. And then I watched David Attenborough’s powerful,
heart-wrenching documentary, Extinction: The Facts – which said it all
for me, more eloquently and with pictures too! So, I could just stop here and
encourage you all to go and watch it, if you haven’t already. But the uncomfortable, disturbing truth needs
to be heard and this is an opportunity to reflect on it together, so here goes…
Attenborough’s documentary presented the shocking statistics:
one million species out of the total eight million on earth are threatened with
extinction. Since 1970, populations of vertebrates have declined by 60%.
Extinction is a natural process; the problem is the extent - hundreds of times
faster than the natural evolutionary rate, and accelerating. Prehistoric mass
extinctions were caused by volcanoes or meteors, but scientists believe we are
now in the middle of another mass extinction event – this time caused by human
activity.
These losses are not just affecting large, exotic, photogenic
mammals (though these are the ones which grab our attention - like the only two
surviving northern white rhinos in the world, Najin and her daughter Fatu, who
featured in the documentary). We are also losing all kinds of birds, fish,
insects and plants. And it’s not just happening in the teeming rainforests but
on our doorstep. Over the past 200 years, over 400 species have been lost from
England alone – including 22 species of bee, 78 of beetles, 7 kinds of bird and
5 kinds of butterfly – to name only those beginning with ‘b’. The Species Recovery Trust keeps an archive
of lost native species, which lists the reasons for each one’s extinction. It
makes for a sad litany: habitat destruction, agricultural intensification,
pollution, drainage of wetlands, poor land management, egg collecting, hunting,
urban development, overfishing, climate change, loss of mature trees…
A similar set of destructive activities is responsible for
global biodiversity loss. Some of this human behaviour, like overfishing,
poaching and hunting, is a deliberate choice to kill creatures for our own
consumption or for profit – prioritising immediate gratification over long-term
sustainability. Much destruction is not intended but rather a careless
consequence of our (mis)management of natural resources, relentlessly and
heedlessly pursuing growth, cheap food and profit for the benefit of humans alone,
either unaware of or choosing to ignore the impact this has on the rest of
creation. If we carry on like this, we will indeed be alone, fulfilling
Isaiah’s startling prophecy:
Ah, you who join house to house, who add field to field,
until there is room for no one but you,
and you are left to live alone in the midst of the
land!
Over two thousand years ago, already the prophets knew how
damaging human behaviour could be. Greed and violence, selfishness and
indifference, cut us off not only from our human neighbours but from all our
sisters and brothers in creation. The trouble is that too often we don’t
acknowledge that kinship – we find it hard enough to treat fellow humans as
brothers and sisters when they look different; how much harder we have found it
to recognise that other creatures, from mountain gorillas to tiny beetles, have
equal value and a right to thrive.
But though we struggle to care about all these threatened
creatures for their own sake, we are beginning to (re)discover that our well-being
is ultimately bound up with theirs. Most
of us haven’t noticed the disappearance of many insect species, and would not,
if we’re honest, be particularly upset by their loss. But - as one scene in the
documentary dramatically showed - a diversity of insects is vital for breaking
down organic matter and maintaining healthy soil. When too many insects are
lost, we will end up with a dustbowl that no amount of chemical fertiliser can
put right. It’s not just about
soil: the more diverse and species-rich
any ecosystem is, the more resilient it is to change. And though the existence
of one endangered species may not appear to have any benefit for humans, its
loss will have an impact on us all. A single link in a spider’s web may not
seem important, “but the links altogether provide the web with strength and
stability. If enough links are lost however the entire web will collapse in the
slightest gust of wind. Humans are as intrinsically part of this web as any
other organism on the planet.”[2]
The current pandemic is one example of how damage to one part
of the web of nature has far-reaching consequences and can lead to a major
collapse, affecting human society. The growing frequency and severity of viral
pandemics in the last century seems to be a result of intensifying human
disruption of nature; deforestation and climate change cause stress and
migration in animals and create opportunities for viruses to transfer to
humans. So the enforced isolation and disconnection from each other which we
have endured for the past six months – and which sadly looks set to continue
for some while – is a symptom of our greater disconnection from nature and is
something which we humans have helped to bring upon ourselves.
It’s hard not to feel deeply despairing, depressed, angered
and ashamed by all this – I find myself living with all of these emotions and
more, when I allow myself to face these difficult truths. Avoidance and denial
- too long our solution - are no longer an option. It is time for humanity to
change the way we think about and act towards our fellow creatures. Extinction Rebellion’s non-violent disruption
on our streets and Attenborough’s hard-hitting presentation in our living rooms
are part of an awakening, a growing resolve among ordinary people to find ways
of making a difference. Our unlooked-for pause during lockdown has made so many
of us reflect on what was wrong with the ‘old normal’, not least the damage we
have been doing to our planet – and at the same time it has given many of us a
chance to reconnect with nature in surprising and refreshing ways,
rediscovering the joys of our gardens and local woods, learning the names of
trees and recognising birdsong.
As people of faith, who understand the nature of sin and
recognise our own share in this, but also believe in restoration and renewal,
we are called to play a part in this awakening, to make the changes we are able
to in our own lives, to join in challenging the powerful systems which drive so
much of this destruction, and to encourage and collaborate with all
fellow-travellers in hope. A few examples: for me one sign of hope began three
years ago with the publication of a beautiful book, The Lost Words,
naming and illustrating some once-common nature words like acorn and bluebell
or which were in danger of being lost from children’s vocabulary. Like a
sprouting mustard seed, the book rapidly became a huge success, and offshoots
keep growing in the form of music, murals and much more. I think its success
lies in the way it encourages us to reconnect with some of our fellow creatures
by knowing their name, seeing their beauty and recognising their uniqueness. If
you haven’t already, I’d urge you to buy a copy to give to any children in your
life – and keep one for yourself too!
The work of the Species Recovery Trust is different example
of reconnecting, using volunteers to help endangered species and aiming to
“train a whole new generation of wildlife enthusiasts to ensure we never lose
touch with the natural world around us”. Another hopeful sign is the growing
movement to tackle food waste – in which our own Real Junk Food Kitchen plays a
part: if we stop wasting so much food globally, we can feed more people without
destructively intensive agriculture.
If you missed Extinction: The Facts, do watch it if
you can. Expect to feel angry and sorrowful, but don’t give up hope. You might
need to hear the words which young Dara McAnulty (whom I mentioned in my last
reflection) wrote to a parent who asked on Twitter:
“My 9 year old watched and cried and has asked me what can he
do. What can I tell him?”
“Tell him to love all living things.
Tell him not to be afraid. Tell him to share his enthusiasm and hope with
others. Learning how everything is connected will have a positive effect on
decision making. Give him a hug from me.”
Reflection (Ruth Harley)
“Come, let us
return to the Lord…”
How different those
words sounded just a few weeks ago, when the worship planning group met to plan
for our return to in-person gathered worship, which was to have been this
weekend. Then, those words spoke of joyful return, of a promise fulfilled. But
the world has changed quickly since then, and our plans have changed with it,
and we are not gathering. I wonder how those words sound to you today?
“Come, let us return
to the Lord…”
Perhaps it sounds
like a promise of things to come – after all, our gathering for worship is not
cancelled, but postponed. Or perhaps, as this fresh loss compounds our grief
for all the losses of this time, it sounds like an empty promise, hollow words
when we cannot return.
It is, I think, no
coincidence that the book of Hosea, like many of the prophetic texts in the
Bible, was written during or just after a time of upheaval, sadness, separation
and loss, when the people of Israel were taken in exile to Babylon. There was
perhaps something about that experience of devastation and separation which
enabled people to face some of the harder, more uncomfortable truths about what
it means to live in the world in relationship with God.
“Come, let us
return to the Lord…”
This is not really
about returning to worship, though it might have fitted that context well. Nor
is it about returning home, returning to a beloved community, though it might
have had those resonances for its original hearers as well as for us. It is
about turning to God, and not just turning but re-turning, turning again,
setting our face in the direction of God, living our lives oriented towards
God, and accepting that to do so is not a once-and-for all decision, but a
continual process of turning and returning.
The life of faith
is not static, it requires us to be continually ready to move, to change, to
turn and re-turn, as we try to keep ourselves firmly pointed towards God, in
all the changing, challenging and confusing circumstances of life. Church
traditions, at their worst, encourage us to stay still, to stay put, to resist
change, because ‘we have always done it like that’. But at its best, the
tradition of the church encourages us to root ourselves in a long line of faithful
people who have turned and returned to God in every generation, adapting to all
manner of circumstances, and trying to work out afresh what it means to remain
faithful to God now, in this time and place and situation.
Our readings today
contain some pretty devastating imagery. Imagery of violence and destruction,
of turmoil, loss, devastation and extinction. This is, perhaps, not the sort of
stuff we expect to hear very often in church. But it is important stuff to
engage with, and to engage with well.
Some of this
imagery has been used badly, to suggest a vengeful God who destroys or harms as
punishment for human sin. That is not a God I recognise. Sometimes this sort of
imagery has been used to justify human violence, the violence of the privileged
towards the oppressed, and that is never right. We need to be very careful to
resist any reading that could seem to condone abuse or violence.
So how do we read
these texts? It helps, I think, to start by remembering that the relationship
between God and human beings is not – in the ordinary sense – an interpersonal
relationship. God is not a person, and our relationship with God is not the
same as our relationship with other humans. Nor is God’s relationship with
God’s own creation the same as our relationship with God’s creation, of which
we are a part.
A careful reading
of the text from Jeremiah may also help us here. ‘Why is the land ruined and
laid waste like a wilderness?’ asks the prophet. A question we may well echo as
we see the destructive impact of climate change on our world. And God replies
‘Because they have forsaken my law that I set before them and have not obeyed
my voice or walked in accordance with it.’ It would be easy to read that as God
punishing people for their disobedience by destroying the land. But I think it
is better read, especially if we are looking for parallels with our present
climate emergency, as God spelling out the inevitable consequences of humanity
turning away from the way God wants us to live in relationship with creation.
It’s a bit like if
you say to a child: “if you touch the cooker, you’ll get burned” – that’s not a
threat of punishment, but a warning about consequences. So, in these sometimes
disturbingly violent texts, God is not threatening us, but warning us about the
consequence of our own actions and inactions, and the choices we make in how we
relate to one another, to God, and to the creation of which we are a part.
“Come, let us
return to the Lord…”
This is a call to
turn back towards God, to notice those times when we too have ‘stubbornly
followed our own hearts’, to commit again to walking in God’s ways and placing
ourselves in right relationship with God, with our neighbours, and with
creation.
This is not easy
stuff. It never is, but especially now. It is not easy in terms of how we
respond either to the climate crisis or to the Coronavirus pandemic. Sometimes
it will mean making decisions which are costly or even painful. Often it will
mean wrestling long and hard with what it looks like to love God and love our
neighbour as ourselves, now, in these circumstances, in response to these
crises. What that looks like will continue to change, and we will need to be
prepared to change in response, to turn and turn again towards God who is
unchanging in faithfulness and love.
There is a
spiritual which emerged from the Shaker tradition which has the chorus “to
turn, turn will be our delight, til turning, turning we come round right” and
as they sang it, the Shakers would dance, turning and moving as they worshiped
God. Dance is often used as a metaphor for the life of God in the Trinity, as
one of continual movement in relationship. We too are caught up in this dance,
in this turning and returning to God.
It is hard,
sometimes, to learn new ways of dancing, new ways of living, new ways of
expressing our love for God and neighbour. It is hard, and it can be
heartbreaking, and it can be joyful, and inspiring, and devastating, and
beautiful - sometimes all at the same time. But we do not do it alone. Even
when we cannot meet, we are still part of the same dance, turning together
towards the same God, seeking together to walk with Jesus, bound together in
the life of the Holy Spirit.
So come,
let us return to the Lord, together-but-apart, let us know, let us press on to
know, the Eternal One whose appearing is as sure as the dawn. Amen.
Questions for reflection / discussion
As I read / listened to the
readings and reflections for this week…
·
what
did I notice, or what particularly stood out for me?
·
what
did they make me wonder, or what questions am I pondering?
·
what
have they helped me realise?
·
is there anything I want to do or
change in the light of this week's topic?
A prayer for this week:
Too
often we have treated the planet as a commodity,
as raw material to be used and consumed.
We have burnt the skies and sickened the waters.
We have treated our companion creatures
with cruelty and indifference.
So we
ask for a turning of our hearts.
We offer you the harvest of the earth, sea and sky:
may it be the fruit of care and persistent love,
sustaining the richness of living things.
Too
often we have treated one another as means to an end:
as things to be labelled, abused and enslaved.
We have not always raised our voices
when our sisters and brothers have been treated with contempt.
So we ask for a turning of our
hearts.
We offer you the harvest of our lives:
May it be a gathering of peace and justice,
sharing life in solidarity and courage. Amen.
(from Steven Shakespeare, The
Earth Cries Glory)
Activities
/ conversation-starters
with young (and not-so-young!) people
This week we’ve included resources for a ‘wild pilgrimage’,
to mark the end of our Creation season. All the suggested activities, and the
practical resources to do them, will be contained in ‘pilgrimage bags’ –
delivered to your doorstep with the paper worship packs, or available from the
Old Rectory driveway on Sunday 20th September, 10.30am - 4.30pm.
[1] See Megan Warner, ‘Resilience in a Time of COVID-19 –
Three Biblical Models: Plague, Uncleanness and Indigestion’ (conference paper
presented 17 June 2020), https://www.winchester.ac.uk/media/content-assets/documents/rke-documents/covid-and-theology-conference-papers/Warner,-Resilience-in-a-time-of-COVID-19.pdf
[2] From the Species Recovery Trust website: https://www.speciesrecoverytrust.org.uk/about-us
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