Our scriptures are steeped in an understanding of human creatures as part of creation. The writers of both the Old and New Testaments were, by and large, people connected to the land. They understood human beings not as separate from, and superior to, the wider web of life, but as part of an inter-connected, inter-dependent creation. They understood that human beings are called by the Creator to be caretakers, even servants, of our non-human relations with whom we share this exquisite planet.

However, for centuries the western Church in particular has lost a sense of that sacred connection. Our theology and liturgy have focused almost entirely on the human relationship to God, and we have seen the rest of the created order as outside that relationship, and more like the backdrop, the scenery on the stage, while the real story, the human one, played out over the centuries.

So, for discipleship to be “creation-informed,” we need to recover an understanding of ourselves as part of creation, mortal, vulnerable and entirely dependent on the wider Earth community for our very life, with a calling to understand and care for our non-human kin.

Jesus is our example. His ministry was local, among the people and places where he lived and worked. He spent time in the wilderness where he was formed for ministry and where he went often to pray. He drew teachings about our relationship with God with closely observed parables about seeds and growth, lilies and ravens, and cycles of planting and harvest, how trees grow and how they flourish, and how the wind behaves. His great miracle of feeding the multitudes showed that God’s creation can provide an abundance for all people; his act was a challenge to the environmentally destructive practices of the empire.

As followers of Jesus, we need to ask: what is the calling of the Church in the face of the climate crisis? Our baptismal covenant calls us to “strive to safeguard the integrity of God’s creation and respect, sustain and renew the life of the Earth.” This is clearly a call to a creation-informed discipleship. Jesus taught us to be servants of one another. Can we imagine a discipleship of servanthood in our relationship with the whole of creation?

What if we saw clearly, to the core of each of our beings, that we belong to God, and the children of God and God’s creation belong to each other, are kin with each other.

Is it possible we have a worldview problem? Perhaps you’re already thinking that to make this shift in the consciousness of our western Church – in our worldview – will not be easy. And you’d be right! Worldviews are very hard to change, because they are unconscious and mostly unexamined.

In the Diocese of Toronto, the Bishop’s Committee on Creation Care supports parishes that are learning through liturgy, education, experience and reflection to see ourselves differently and practice creation-informed, Christ-centred discipleship. Understanding ourselves as connected to the rest of the non-human creation will hopefully lead us to begin to live out God’s intention for a peaceful Earth community in which all flourish. What might that look like?

• It could mean learning to think of ourselves, our place in the world and our discipleship not only as from a specific city, province or country, but also as from a watershed, a landscape or a geographical region shared with specific non-human creatures and unique landmarks.
• It could mean beginning to use creation-informed content in liturgy and prayers.
• It could mean initiating the observance of the Season of Creation into the life of the congregation.
• It could mean worshipping outdoors on occasion; initiating a regular “hiking church” experience; creating a pollinator garden on the church property; or joining in with a local community garden as a church community.
• It would definitely mean learning to read the scriptures through a creation-informed lens.

It could lead us to become advocates who speak for the earth and for the creatures when they and their habitats are threatened.

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There’s a term for the feeling many of us have in the pit of our stomach these days – ecological grief. Grief, we all know, is the normal human response to loss, so ecological grief can be defined as the grief felt as a response to the environmental losses we hear about all the time – loss of species, ecosystems and meaningful landscapes we have known, due to climate change.

I would also suggest it is a form of disenfranchised grief, which is grief from a loss that is not readily acknowledged in society. When a close family member dies, there is a general social understanding and acceptance of the loss, and a period of grieving is accommodated and encouraged. But some kinds of loss, although they can be deeply felt by individuals and groups, do not elicit the same kind of acknowledgement and support. These would include losses such as an abortion or a miscarriage, being fired from a job, betrayal by a friend, or the death of a pet.

As the environmental crisis humanity faces, including its human causes, dawns on each of us, grief is often among our many complex emotional responses. However, since one of the other dominant social and individual responses to the climate crisis is denial, there is little social acknowledgement of ecological grief, which makes it very difficult to even internally name the sadness and anxiety many of us feel as the deep grief that it is, let alone process it effectively.

Ecological grief is not only often disenfranchised, it’s also complex, because it is often mixed up with other complicated reactions such as guilt, anger and helplessness. This complex, disenfranchised grief cannot be borne entirely alone. To be processed well, grief also needs to be shared, brought into a beloved community to be processed with others who lovingly understand. Such a community can be family, or a group of dear friends, or a worshipping community. In such a loving context we can begin to name our grief together, to share healing rituals, songs and prayers.

I suggest that, along with repentance, and before a community can get to healing and hope, part of the communal sharing and processing of ecological grief needs to be lament, the liturgical naming of grief, pain, anger and despair that seems to have been mostly lost in the Western Church. There are raw expressions of lament throughout scripture, especially in the Psalms, but I have not often heard it expressed in modern liturgy. I offer this Prayer of Lament as a starting point on this grief journey.

A Prayer of Lament

Holy Mother, you created human beings out of the earth, with material from the stars.
You breathed your spirit, your ancient love, into us and imprinted us with your image.
We remember Jesus’ words that the one who has dominion must be the servant of all,
And that you have called us to care for your magnificent earth creation, to serve our kin,
All those who share the earth with us.
Lord in your mercy,
Save us.

But we have forgotten our place.
We imagined we were masters, not servants.
The more we learned about your evolving creation masterpiece,
Instead of rejoicing in wonder and gratitude,
The more we took and used, burned and destroyed,
without care for your beautiful work, our human siblings and our non-human kin.
Lord in your mercy,
Save us.

Because we have abused our calling, forgotten our place,
desecrated what we did not understand,
now we stand on the precipice of climate disaster.
We, your human children have done this.
Lord in your mercy,
Save us.

Many of us, especially the powerful, rich and comfortable among us,
ignore the terrifying evidence of climate disaster and continue as we always have,
Living with the tattered illusion of an inert earth with unlimited resources.
And those of us who are beginning to see, to understand, what we have done,
Ache with anxiety and grief at how we have wounded the living earth, our Mother,
At the climate changes and catastrophes that are picking up speed,
despairing at times, doing small things that make small differences,
Knowing it is not enough.
Lord in your mercy,
Save us.

Creator God, in your mercy, save us!
Spirit of love, help us in our weakness,
intercede for us with your sighs too deep for words.
We hang on to the promise that even this peril cannot separate us from you,
And from your ancient love, from your vision of a beloved earth community.
Holy One, teach us our place once again. We are listening.
Amen.

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How do we respond? Getting to know the place where you live and serve is one way. The Bishop’s Committee on Creation Care is inviting every parish in the diocese to participate in a joyful and challenging project called “The Watershed Pilgrimage.” The project is rooted in the principles of watershed discipleship and pilgrimage and will help parishioners get to know their place, tell its stories and see where the land is flourishing and where it is suffering.

The committee is working on a resource that will guide parish groups. A series of explorations will help people learn about their watershed and create a pilgrimage walk, starting from the door of the church, so that others can connect more deeply with the land. The guide will be divided into six units, and parishes can take as long as they need to complete each unit. 

Each parish will also be encouraged to reach out to neighbouring parishes to see if they can connect the routes of their pilgrimage walks, creating longer walks throughout the diocese. 

The ancient spiritual practice of pilgrimage calls us to journey on sacred paths to holy places in order to come into a deeper relationship with the land and with God. Anglicans are no strangers to the idea of our parishes serving our neighbourhoods; watershed discipleship encourages us to widen our definition of neighbour beyond the human community to include the plants, animals, birds and even the soil that supports life in the place where we live. One of the principles of watershed discipleship articulated by environmentalist Baba Dioum is to love where you live: “In the end we will conserve only what we love; we will love only what we understand; and we will understand only what we are taught.” 

These two practices — watershed discipleship and pilgrimage — deepen our relationship with our place and inspire us to respond to the impact of climate change where we live. 

The guide for the “Watershed Pilgrimage” will be shared in the spring and is designed to be suitable for use in any season. Each unit will be rooted in biblical reflection on our relationship with creation as we experience it at the local level. It will include practical advice about uncovering the hidden stories and unique aspects of our watershed and culminate in the creation of a parish-based pilgrimage walk that can be shared with others, offering friends and visitors the opportunity to know and love the watershed as well.

“Our hope is to launch the watershed pilgrimage with a walk led by Bishop Andrew Asbil, from St. James Cathedral to the parish church of St. Andrew by-the-Lake,” says the Rev. Susan Spicer, co-chair of the Bishop’s Committee on Creation Care. For more information, contact creation.care@toronto.anglican.ca 

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