Wherever the river goes, every living creature that swarms will live, and there will be very many fish, once these waters reach there. It will become fresh; and everything will live where the river goes. 

On the banks, on both sides of the river, there will grow all kinds of trees for food. Their leaves will not wither nor their fruit fail, but they will bear fresh fruit every month, because the water for them flows from the sanctuary. Their fruit will be for food, and their leaves for healing.

Ezekiel is given this vision 25 years after the destruction of the temple and the city of Jerusalem. The land is ravaged by war, the people now in exile in Babylon. The water flows out of the ruined temple, God’s presence flowing over the broken land, bringing healing. At first, it is a trickle, then ankle deep and finally deep and wide enough to swim in.

As disciples, we hear this vision fulfilled in Christ, the living water that becomes in us a spring of water gushing up to eternal life (John 4:10-14) and who offers us the living water that slakes our thirst for healing and justice in a broken world (John 7:37-39).

“The river grows deeper and deeper, restoring land, reviving waters and sustaining flourishing ecosystems,” says this year’s call to the Season of Creation. “The vision invites human responsibility: recognizing ecological damage, embracing interconnectedness, we are called to immerse ourselves in the water, actively safeguarding and working for the renewal of creation so that environmental healing and human well-being may flourish together.” The symbol for this year is staying immersed in the water that flows from the throne of God, stepping deeper and deeper, working together for the renewal of creation.

From his vantage point in the river, Ezekiel sees that along the banks are trees bearing fruit in all seasons, and whose leaves do not wither. This is divine blessing; creation is healed where the river flows and Ezekiel is restored to hope. John reprises this vision in his Revelation, where the river of the water of life flows from the throne of God through the astonishing tree of life whose leaves are for the healing of the nations (Revelation 22:1-3).

Images of the riparian edge where river meets forest are common in scripture. People gather there for worship and lament. Think of the exiles weeping by the rivers, their harps hung up in the poplars, unable to sing (Psalm 137). Paul and Silas, released from prison, head to the riverbank where there is a place of prayer and meeting with the women there (Acts 16:13). The righteous are like trees planted by water, bearing fruit (Psalm 1:1-3; Jeremiah 17:7-8).

Walk along a riverbank or better yet, explore in a kayak from the water, and it is easy to see why. The so-called riparian zone between the river and the forest is a place of abundant life.  The roots of trees hold soil together and stabilize the bank. The rich soil nourished by the constant flow of water supports a greater diversity of plants, which feed and shelter amphibian and mammal life. Fish thrive in the cooler, shaded waters and turtles rest on fallen logs. The riverbank is a study in the interconnectedness of a healthy ecology.

The northern flank of our diocese lies within “the land between,” an ecologically significant transition zone between the Canadian Shield to the north and the flat, arable land of southern Ontario. It includes communities from Orillia all the way east to Campbellford and Havelock and has a high density of wetlands, lakes and rivers, rock barrens, alvars (rare limestone grasslands) and savannahs. The endangered five-lined skink, Ontario’s only lizard, and other rare reptiles and amphibians, all rely on the riparian edge. Climate change and human intervention deplete habitats at an alarming rate. Where there are cribbed and hardened shorelines, these creatures cannot survive; fish can no longer spawn and shorebirds cannot nest. It is encouraging to see municipalities promoting the restoration of riparian zones.

There is an urgent need for rewilding in a world where corporate logos are more familiar to children than the names of trees. Over the past 50 years, the decline in wildlife populations and the rate of species extinction are catastrophic. We know that where Indigenous and local communities have control of land, biodiversity increases.

The Rev. Laurel Dykstra, who leads the Salal and Cedar community in the Diocese of New Westminster, advocates for the rewilding of our church lands. “On a modest scale,” Laurel writes, “churches are local communities with control of land. And for the most part, the land that our churches control is a rectangle of grass, a patch of monoculture ­­­ready for rewilding.” A church with a creek flowing through can restore the riparian zone by introducing native plants and creating habitat. Churches in our diocese, including St. Hilary, Cooksville in Mississauga, are creating rain gardens and introducing native species and pollinator gardens.

But facing the ecological crisis means rewilding ourselves. Our environmental crisis is actually a human crisis, says theologian and fly fisher Derek Taylor in a recent article in Comment magazine. We need healing, which begins by recovering our creatureliness. “We treat the world as something other than creation, and we imagine ourselves to be something more than creatures. We have forgotten where we are and who we are.”

Remembering who we are begins with being immersed in creation as Ezekiel was. We are rewilded when we enter into communion with our Creator, with our kin in creation, with the suffering body of the earth. We find this communion in liturgy, in the garden, in wandering and wading together, knowing and tending the places where we live and serve and worship. Archbishop of Canterbury Sarah Mullally says, “In the season of creation we turn again to Christ… As we follow Christ, we are called to share in his reconciling work, seeking justice, healing and hope for the earth and for all who dwell within it.”

In our diocese, the Bishop’s Committee for Creation Care supports this creation-informed, Christ-centred discipleship with resources to help Anglicans “rewild” in celebrations of the Season of Creation and participation in the Communion Forest, a global movement for the restoration of habitat and planting trees. Where the river flows and the trees grow, creation flourishes.

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Too many of the world’s forests are coming down, and the Earth is heating up. The great old growth giants who sequester carbon and act as the lungs of the Earth are falling faster than the minutes of our lives. As carbon dioxide grows in our atmosphere, we find ourselves in deeper trouble. Canada uses more than its fair share of the global carbon budget, according to the David Suzuki Foundation, and we are disproportionately responsible for the climate crisis. It is alarming to see how political and economic chaos in North America is eroding any commitment we had to mitigating the crisis.

Our leaders are not going to fix this for us. We need to get our hands into the soil and do the work that God calls us to do. Our primal vocation given to us in our sacred story is to cultivate and care for creation so that all life can flourish. The renowned botanist and tree-planting advocate Diana Beresford-Kroeger says, “without the global forest there is no hope for humanity’s future on Earth. We must reclaim the interconnection between trees and humanity. If we strengthen those connections by planting trees, interacting with our forests and protecting natural spaces, we can pause climate change long enough to have a fighting chance to mend our destructive ways.” And she has a plan: every single person needs to plant at least one tree a year.

Planting trees – along with protecting existing natural spaces – is the goal of the Communion Forest movement. In a letter to the diocese, Bishop Andrew and Mary Asbil write, “The call from the Anglican Communion to participate in the global Communion Forest … builds on the foundation of the ministry of creation care already established through the Communion and our fifth mark of mission: to safeguard the integrity of creation and renew life on Earth.” Joining this movement is the focus of the Season of Creation in our diocese this year.

“It’s not just about planting,” say the Asbils, “it is about turning to our knowledge keepers, scientists and theologians to understand how to be better caretakers of our planet.”

One of those knowledgeable people is Guinevere Kern, who is a registered horticultural therapist, educator and advocate for integrating horticulture principles and practices that support health initiatives. In a recent interview, Ms. Kern said that despite increasing public awareness of the importance of planting trees in urban environments, many trees planted with the best intentions do not survive beyond a few years, often due to preventable factors.

Planting trees begins with knowing the space and then choosing the right species, or “the right plant for the right place,” she says. “What is the growth habit of this tree? Is it conducive to the space over a short, medium or long term? What urban stress factors are part of this location? What care might this tree need to support long term health?”

She is passionate about increasing nature literacy – encouraging people to get close to nature, to know the ecosystem where they live, as well as native species and how they interact in the spaces where we live, work and worship.

Knowing and connecting to nature can increase our commitment to care for and rebuild healthy natural spaces. This connectedness not only heals the Earth; it heals us. “The data is clear: there are tangible health benefits to engaging with plant material in biophilic environments,” she says. “Having our hands in the soil and engaging with plant life reduces stress, enhances our mood and renews a sense of purpose. It also exposes us to the intricate and marvelous web of life and the threads of interconnectedness that bind life together.”

Being a part of the Communion Forest movement is a way for us as Church to express our commitment to justice and community. For example, an urban church where there is little canopy to mitigate summer heat might nurture a grove of trees to provide shade and a resting space for neighbours.

“Planting trees can go beyond an altruistic, one-time deed; it can play an ongoing role in supporting multispecies health and communal wellbeing,” says Ms. Kern. “Through proper tree planting preparation and planting techniques, native species selection, long term site-specific maintenance considerations and habitat restoration, we are invited to come into greater knowing and care for local dynamic ecosystems that uphold an abundance of life. Learning about the places and spaces where tree plantings occur can open pathways to reciprocal relationship and ethical land stewardship. To me, it’s an invitation to better participate in our obligations to creation and one another as Treaty people.”

When we look at this work through the lens of community involvement, what we are really doing is co-creating space with the Creator and all creatures in creation. We’re learning to think differently about the spaces God has given to us to care for and to cultivate.

Joining the Communion Forest movement can help us embody our faith as we learn to care for and cultivate the forest of trees that will be for the healing of the nations. As the book of Proverbs says, “Wisdom is a tree of life to those who take hold of her; those who hold her fast will be blessed.” (3:18 NIV)

To learn more about Guinevere Kern’s work, visit www.guineverekern.com.

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After 30 minutes of walking in silence, we stopped amid white pine and sumac with their red cones still bright in winter, made a circle in the snow and shared a Eucharist – the earth our paten, the chalice passed from one to another around the circle. Our return trip included conversation, framed by a question: What did you notice?

There were challenges. A snow squall made it almost impossible to see when we started out, but by the time we hit the woods, the sun was shining. We hit an icy patch on the trail. Everyone helped one another through it with great care, and we were formed as community.

As I write this, Nova Scotians are grieving people drowned in flash floods, the air is filled with forest fire soot and global temperatures are dangerously high. As the crisis deepens, so does our grief for the Earth, for the vulnerable poor who are suffering the most, for the creatures who are “falling faster than the minutes of our lives,” as the poet W.S. Merwin wrote. Lament is an important spiritual practice for us in this time. (See Karen Turner’s article.)

We know the we are at a crisis point. We know we must change our way of life. We know that our voices must be heard as advocates for the earth. We know that the actions we take as disciples are an important witness

It is encouraging to see how many parishes in our diocese are gardening, forming green teams and becoming advocates for creation. This crisis calls us to be Christ-centred, creation-informed disciples on the way, recognizing that the neighbours we serve are not only the humans, but the foxes and the cedars, the floral and fauna communities with whom we share our home.

Do you feel overwhelmed by the crisis facing our world? Not sure what to do? Writer and farmer Wendell Berry says while the crisis is global, our focus should be local. “The question that must be addressed is not how to care for the planet, but how to care for each of the planet’s millions of human and natural neighbourhoods, each of its millions of small pieces and parcels of land, each one of which is in some precious way different from all the others.”

Hiking church is a way to begin doing this work in our parishes. It’s been often said that we won’t save what we don’t love, and we can’t love what we don’t know, and we won’t know what we haven’t experienced. So why not take a walk with your parish? Find the folks who have a lot of local knowledge to share; they could choose the route. When you share Eucharist, you will be re-affirming your sacred bond to the earth, singing the Sanctus with the birds and the creatures who dwell with you in your place. You will have taken some important steps on the way to knowing, loving and serving creation in your parish.

On that snowy, icy day in Lent, one of the participants said that by the time we stopped for worship, she was tired and cold and couldn’t see how it was going to work. But as we shared bread around the circle, our feet touching the Earth, she felt a deep sense of connection that moved her to tears.

If you visit the creation care page on the diocesan website, you will find a template for hiking church, and we encourage you to adapt it to your context. We are grateful to the Salal + Cedar wild church community of the Fraser Valley watershed for allowing us to include the Eucharistic Prayer that allows you to name the creatures, the plants and the animals, the waterways and the geography of your place. (If you do use it, they ask that you credit it in your materials and make a financial contribution to the Indigenous land defenders near you.)

Our hope is that hiking church events happen in every parish in the diocese: rural, suburban, urban. It’s a good idea to scout out your route and time it, with the capacity of your hikers in mind. The pace you set must work for the slow walkers. Choose a walk that is safe, enjoyable and accessible for the people with whom you hope to share the experience. Let us know how it goes. We would appreciate hearing your experience, adaptations and suggestions for this liturgy so that what we send out to parishes will be inspiring and helpful. You can reach the chair of the Bishop’s Committee on Creation Care at revsusan77@gmail.com or 905-683-7981.

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Creation’s voice is urgent and distressed, because the sound we are hearing is the fires burning across the world. As I write this, the people of Lytton village and Lytton First Nation are once again under threat of evacuation as fire encroaches on their communities. In Europe, the vulnerable are dying in their homes and alpine ice fields are melting under an unprecedented heat wave. People across our diocese continue to clean up shattered trees in the wake of May’s derecho, one of the most destructive storms in Canadian history.

There is another aspect of fire in the story of Moses’ encounter – the fire that burns but does not consume, the fire of God, who hears the cries of the distressed and acts. “I know their sufferings,” God says, “and I have come down to deliver them.” What Moses struggled to understand and accept was that God was sending him to be the prophet; it was through his speech and his action that God would bring justice to the distressed. Moses resisted because he was afraid, because the task was overwhelming. But God convinced him with a promise: “I will be with you.”

We as the Church need to hear that voice, too – the voice that says, “I am sending you and I will be with you.”

There are global resources available at www.seasonofcreation.org to help you plan your worship, learning and prophetic action in this Season of Creation. Individuals and communities are invited to think in terms of prayer, sustainability projects and advocacy. For example: host an ecumenical prayer gathering that unites us as Christians to care for our common home; lead a cleanup project that helps creation thrive; raise your voice for climate justice by participating in an ongoing campaign, such as the fossil fuels divestment movement.

The Bishop’s Committee on Creation Care has also prepared resources for use in our diocese, including a guide to outdoor worship, hymn suggestions and notes on the lectionary readings for each Sunday. The Lent curriculum “Ecological Grief and Creational Hope” can also be adapted for use during the Season of Creation. You can find all these resources at www.toronto.anglican.ca/creationcare.  

In this Season of Creation, the burning bush calls us to listen to the voice of creation in its groaning. May our ears be open and our hearts moved to take action, knowing that God goes with us to sustain and renew the life of the earth.

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Elise, her sister Marissa and their friend Jess came the first night, when the community moved 40 cubic yards to create the beds – and got blisters to show for it. Since then, they’ve been regulars in the garden, coming to help with the planting and watering. Their mother Michelle says she’s pleased they’re taking part. “I want the girls to know where their food comes from, that farmers work hard to produce it,” she says.

“I learned that you can use straw on the plants and keep the water in,” says Marissa, who’s excited to taste the watermelons she helped plant.

For me, the best part has been working together safely after months of youth group meetings and church online. I never realized how good a conversation can be when you’re thinning radishes. And there’s so much to learn – how to sew seed, plant seedlings and hill potatoes, about pollinators and companion planting. All the gardeners have some wisdom to share, and we’re blessed with some very experienced folks. The best joy is being outside, working together in touch with the earth, having neighbours stop by to ask what we’re doing, and inviting them in. 

I don’t expect we’ll have a bumper crop this year because of a late start. But that doesn’t matter. We’re working together, we’re growing food and looking forward to sharing it with others, we’re meeting our neighbours. We’re grateful for the Reach Grant that got us started, the work of many hands, the blessings of sunshine and seed and rain. The best part is the genuine excitement that happens when we gather to work in the garden, look down the rows and see how much everything has grown.

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