Dianne Bergant, CSA
INTRODUCTION
Women and men have always been fascinated by the universe. Poets, dreamers, and mystics of every kind have looked to the heavens in wonder and awe and for inspiration. The magnificence and scope of the universe have transported them to realms of fantasy and ecstasy alike. This universe has both thrilled them and frightened them. They have traced the positions of the stars and uncovered Orion the Hunter; they have recognized the sparks from Thor’s hammer in the lightning that streaks through the sky; they have been startled by the voice of YHWH[1] in the thunder that rolls across the heavens; they have experienced the monthly phases of the moon in the life cycle of women. Just as elements of the heavens were anthropomorphized, ascribed with human characteristics, so their understanding of the origin, structure, makeup, and working of the universe have influenced how people perceive human nature with its place and role within that universe, as well as divinity and its power and control over it all.
Turning to the Bible, we discover that many of the stories that the ancient Israelites told about themselves reveal traces of their understanding of their own origin and their place in the universe. For example, in the first creation story, we read that God created a dome to separate the waters (Gn 1:6-8). From passages such as these, we see that they believed that Earth[2] was originally covered by chaotic waters. These waters were then separated. The waters above Earth were held in place by a dome. The other waters were gathered under Earth itself. This cosmological perception grew out of the people’s own experience of the sky that seemed to form a clear dome from horizon to horizon. The waters above this dome fell down as rain, while those below surged up from sources underground. The people also thought that they lived on Earth with all other Earth creatures, while God ruled from the heavens. We read in the psalms:
He who sits in the heavens laughs. (Ps 2:4)
Who is like the Lord our God, who is seated on high…? (Ps 113:5)
O you who are enthroned in the heavens! (Ps 123:1)
Such passages provide insight into their cosmological understanding.
Throughout the history of human enlightenment, significant revolutionary scientific discoveries have forced new cosmological renderings, and theological revisions have followed. Pythagoras’ insistence that Earth was a sphere and not flat challenged literal belief that God was enthroned in the heavens above us. Copernicus’ heliocentric model of the universe further threatened well established concepts of divinely determined human dominance in the universe. Darwin’s insight into evolutionary processes disputes the notion of the direct creation of humankind.
We face such a revolutionary situation today. Cosmologists speak about multiverses containing billions of galaxies, some of which, no doubt, contain planets that are able to support life. How are we to understand the teaching of Christology and soteriology in the face of such discoveries? More to the point of this presentation, how are we to reconcile the findings of contemporary science that is cosmocentric with the religious message of the Bible when so much of the latter is anthropocentric and appears to be based on a mythological understanding of the universe?
The prevailing worldview today is definitely anthropocentric. According to this perspective, the human person is regarded as the focal point of everything and the measure according to which all else is evaluated. An exaggerated form of this point of view maintains that humankind is both the culmination of creation and its ultimate goal. Accordingly, the rest of natural creation is deemed valuable only to the extent that it is useful in furthering human desires, plans, and accomplishments. A great deal of modern progress owes its existence and the ways it has developed to this perspective. We cannot deny the extraordinary range or the awesome quality of the achievements of human ingenuity. Astounding feats of science and breathtaking works of art all have been realized through creative employment of components of the natural world. However, these amazing accomplishments often have resulted in humans’ failing to remember that, as remarkable as they themselves are and as marvelous as their undertakings might be, they are first and foremost members of the “community of Earth,” dependent upon other members of that community for their very survival.
Many people argue that anthropocentric bias is reinforced by the biblical tradition, specifically the Genesis 1 creation narrative, wherein the first man and woman are given the commission to subdue the earth and have dominion over the rest of creation. However, is it possible that this anthropocentric point of view has been imposed by the biblical reader rather than implied by the biblical author? Might biblical traditions in reality incorporate what today we have named the ecojustice aspects of interconnectedness and interdependence, principles overlooked by contemporary readers who themselves are steeped in an anthropocentric outlook? Retrieving selected passages from the Bible and training the lens of “community of Earth” on them will show that ancient people never doubted their connection with, even total dependence upon, elements of the natural world. In other words, our biblical tradition presumes a “community of Earth.”
In order to read biblical passages with an appreciation of the “community of Earth,” two methodological principles will come into play here: the hermeneutic of suspicion and the hermeneutic of retrieval.[3] Suspicion is necessary lest one uncritically accept the message of the passage without questioning whether the customs, behaviors, and values portrayed therein value or devalue Earth. If they value Earth, the message can be retrieved and retained or developed further. If they devalue Earth, the message will be deemed lacking in revelatory significance and set aside, or it might be retrieved and critiqued and its objectionable meaning be somehow subverted so that it can still act in a revelatory fashion. The goal here is to develop an Earth consciousness in reading the Bible, an advocacy stand in support of the “community of Earth.”
METHOD
The character of the insights gained from reading is dependent upon the methodological approach employed. Today biblical scholars speak of three fundamental approaches, each attentive to a particular aspect of discourse itself. One approach examines what is referred to as “the world within the text,” the world created by the author. This approach focuses on literary characteristics including: form or genre; sub-genres such as simile, metaphor, allegory, etc. Another approach is concerned with “the world behind the text,” the world of the author. Here the primary focus of examination moves away from the text itself and attempts to recapture aspects of the political, social, religious, or other cultural profile of the time of origin. This approach seeks to uncover the original meaning intended by the author. Finally, in a third approach, “the world in front of the text,” the world of the reader, is the principal concern. In this approach, the text is read through a lens determined by the reader. Examples of such a lens would include: liberation, postcolonialism, feminism, integrity of creation, etc. While all reading seeks to uncover the meaning of the text, a text can yield myriad meanings, depending upon which approach is chosen. Is the meaning sought found in the literary creativity of the text itself? Or is it the meaning originally intended by the author? Or does it flow from the particular interest of the reader?
This presentation is meant to be an experiment in hermeneutics. The approach employed will begin with a careful reading of selected passages from the Bible, calling on aspects of literary criticism to discover the basic meaning of the passage (world within the text). Salient political, social, religious details drawn from the historical world of the author will be brought to these literary findings in order to throw more light on the meaning of the passage (world behind the text). However, the principal interest here will be the religious relevance of the meaning of the passage for the contemporary reader (world in front of the text). To this end, the lens through which passages will be viewed is meant to uncover facets of the integrity of creation. This lens is fashioned from the ecojustice principles articulated by the Australian ecotheologian Norman Habel and several of his associates. They are:
- The principle of intrinsic worth which honors the value of Earth and all of its components in themselves and not in their usefulness to human beings.
- The principle of interconnectedness which recognizes the interdependence of members of the “community of Earth.”
- The principle of voice which appreciates the unique way each member of the “community of Earth” expresses itself.
- The principle of purpose which claims that all members of “community of Earth” have a part in the dynamic cosmic design.
- The principle of mutual custodianship which acknowledges the role played by each member of “community of Earth” in sustaining Earth’s delicate balance.
- The principle of resistance which maintains that Earth itself struggles against its manipulation and exploitation.[4]
Supporting principles such as these will not only yield new insights into the biblical narratives, but it will also challenge longstanding anthropological and theological presuppositions. Displacing human beings from their assumed privilege as pinnacle of creation and situating them firmly within the multifaceted “community of Earth” will reestablish them as sisters and brothers of other Earth creatures rather than self-interested sovereigns or ruthless profiteers. Genuine respect for the integrity of other creatures and a willingness to live in harmony with them and not simply over them will certainly alter our understanding of what it means to be human. The ethical implications of this will change our manner of living on and with Earth as well.
This new anthropological perspective will lead us to new ways of understanding and talking about God. We will choose images of a generous and provident creator whose beauty and imagination are manifested in creation rather than a callous retaliator whose honor has been offended by human transgressions and who wields the forces of nature as a punishing club. These new images will evoke sentiments of wonder and praise and gratitude rather than fear and trembling. Espousing the view of “community of Earth” is no mean venture.
LIFE-GIVING WATER
The physical world in which the ancestors of Israel lived shaped their world of understanding. The abundance or scarcity of water influenced their manner of living and the way they perceived God’s action in their lives. While unruly water appears occasionally in several biblical passages (“You rule the raging sea; you still its swelling waves.” – Ps 89:10), in the first five books of the Bible, water is usually depicted as peaceful and refreshing, a necessary component of life.
Much of the history of ancient Israel unfolded on the banks of four major rivers: the Tigris, the Euphrates, the Nile, and the Jordan. While these rivers acted externally as geographic and political boundaries, they also influenced the shape of the people’s internal geography or world of understanding. Stories that feature springs often report that a momentous event occurred near the spring. This is most likely because of the life-giving character of spring water. Its ability to sustain and nurture life flows from this and exemplifies the interconnectedness of Earth’s living creatures, as well as humans’ dependence on it. Wells are artificial shafts burrowed into Earth in order to tap the water table or to capture underground spring water. Wells often mark the site of momentous events that occur where they did because there is first a spring present.
The story examined here recounts an event that occurred at a well. It is important to remember that the stories about Israel’s very earliest ancestors are clothed in the cultural garb common to traditional societies. Israel was patriarchal (patḗr-father; archḗ-head) in its political and social organization and androcentric (andró-male; kéntro-centric) in its point of view. In such societies, it is the men who make the major decisions, choosing what is important for the entire group. Thus we should not be surprised to find both gender and ethnic or social biases in the stories they tell about themselves. Such biases play a very important role in this story.
Sarai, Abram’s wife, was unable to conceive and bear him an heir (Gn 16). According to the existing social laws, a barren wife could engage a surrogate to bear a child in her place. This infant would then be adopted by the barren woman, be considered her child and, if a boy, could become the legal heir of the husband. Sarai had such a slave-girl, an Egyptian named Hagar, and she gave Hagar to Abram as a concubine or secondary wife. Hagar was fertile, and when she conceived, she treated the barren Sarai with disdain. In retaliation, Sarai abused the foreign Hagar so badly that she ran away. In the scene under consideration, “The angel of the Lord found [Hagar] by a spring of water in the wilderness, the spring on the way to Shur” (Gn 16:7).
Several aspects of this story are quite unusual. First, visitation by a heavenly being was usually granted to men, not to women. Second, the heavenly visitor came to a foreigner, an Egyptian, someone who may have worshipped Egyptian gods. Third, this Egyptian was a slave, perhaps part of the spoils of some war. Having fled her mistress, she was now also a fugitive. This unusual event transpired at a spring. It is important to note that this source of water was open to all, even one whose very existence denoted separation and alienation: a woman, a foreigner, a fugitive slave.
None of these cultural barriers prevented Hagar access to the water. Her fundamental right as an Earth creature intimately connected with and dependent upon water cut through gender, ethnic, class, and religious biases, biases that often separated groups of people from one another. This openness is evidence that divine providential care embraces all, regardless of authentic cultural distinctions that might exist. Furthermore, the visitation of the heavenly being, with its promise of blessing rather than condemnation for unacceptable behavior, confirmed Hagar’s right to this water. It is clear from these details that, in this ancient culture, water was not the exclusive property of some at the expense of others. Access to water was a universal right.
Recognizing the extraordinary character of this experience, Hagar named both the heavenly visitor and the well where the visitation took place:
“You are El-roi”; for she said, “Have I really seen God and remained alive after seeing him?” Therefore the well was called Beer-lahai- roi. (Gn 16:13-14)
Though the Hebrew in this passage is difficult to translate, most commentators hold that El-Roi means “God-seeing” and Beer lahai-roi means “Well of the living one who sees.” Just what was seen? Hagar claims to have seen God (The angel of the Lord represents divine self-disclosure.), but the well is named for God who sees, not for a vision of the divine. What did God see? God certainly saw Hagar’s oppression by Sarai, for the heavenly messenger directed her: “Return to your mistress, and submit to her” (Gn 16:9). God sees this particular oppression, just as in the future God will “see” the oppression suffered under Egyptian bondage (Ex 3:9-10). When used of God, the Hebrew verb “to see” means “to see a need and to address it.” God sees Hagar’s subjugation and, though she is directed to return to the subjugation, a remarkable promise is made. Not only will she survive, but a hardy desert people will spring from her. At this life-giving water, her life is saved as is the mighty nation that is growing within her womb.
Some readers might be distressed that Hagar is told to return to the subjugation. However, the fact that this foreign woman, who was a fugitive slave not only had free access to the water, but was also the recipient of a divine visitation and told that her unborn child will be the founder of a great people, demonstrates that the power of God is not constrained by human biases even though the biases remain. Though Hagar’s experience was probably private, the well itself was a public stopping-off place for travelers. Thus, as a source of needed water, it was already recognized as a site where life was renewed. In the future, all those who would come to this spring for water would revere the place as a sacred site, for a messenger from heaven confirmed the right of access to the indispensable water to the one whose cultural reality marked her as marginal.
Reading this story through an ecojustice lens has opened it to another level of understanding, one that does not contradict or subvert traditional understandings, but enhances them. It offers an Earth consciousness and an advocacy stand in support of the all “community of Earth.”
While this story is about one particular people, it is also the story about all people, and of Earth itself. The ecojustice lens through which we have read it has opened its richness in new ways, and it challenges us to examine our own attitudes toward water. We are so accustomed to using this component of Earth for our own purposes that we may fail to really value it, viewing it as a commodity belonging to the one who can pay for it. With this point of view, we fail to see it as an expression of Earth, interconnected and interdependent with other aspects of Earth, all of which possess value in themselves. We frequently use more water than we need, and we dispose of water that we do not use, seldom reflecting on the fact that millions of people with whom we are connected suffer from the loss of water. Worse than this, we have polluted our water sources, our rivers and springs and wells, and in doing so we place in jeopardy the lives of all creatures dependent on these waters. Thus this story about the indispensability of water and its open accessibility to whomever needs it challenges our use or misuse of it, pointing out that this is both an ecojustice and a social justice issue.
MOTHER EARTH
All people need land upon which to live and from which to draw sustenance. Those who are truly landless, like exiles or refugees, lack the resources necessary for survival. They also lack social stability and suffer the loss of identity, since they are not identified with the land in which they live. They are vulnerable and totally dependent on others. While actual ownership of land is not always necessary, access to land is. For example, nomadic people do not possess the land that supports them. However, they do have access to some portion of land and to the riches found there. It is only in this way that they are able to survive.
Land, or Earth, possesses mysterious powers. As from a womb, it brings forth plant life in cornucopian variety. This fact of nature is captured in the first creation account:
The earth brought forth vegetation: plants yielding seed of every kind, and trees of every kind bearing fruit with the seed in it. And God saw that it was good. (Gn 1:12)
Furthermore, Earth continues to nourish from its very substance the diverse forms of life that it brings forth. It is no wonder that land is often referred to as “Mother Earth.” The mysterious life properties of Earth and the interconnectedness of forms of life that come from Earth have long been recognized by poets and scientists alike.
Turning to the Bible, we see that the attitude of ancient Israel toward land varied, depending upon the political and/or social circumstances within which the people found themselves. When the people were landless nomads, the land was viewed as a gift from God; once settled in the land, they considered it an inheritance for which they were responsible and accountable to God. At times the fruitfulness of the land was seen as a blessing; at other times the same fruitfulness became a temptation. Finally, because of their understanding of the covenant that God had made with them, the people interpreted the loss of land as punishment for their disregard of that covenant commitment.
From the very beginning of Israel’s story, land was considered a gift promised by God. This promise was made first to Abram:
To your offspring I will give this land (Gn 12:7);
then to his son Isaac:
…for to you and to your descendants I will give all these lands (Gn 26:3),
and to Isaac’s son Jacob:
…the land on which you lie I will give to you and to your offspring. (Gn 28:13)
Finally, this promise of land was renewed when God made a covenant at Sinai with the entire people who were brought out of Egyptian bondage:
God also spoke to Moses and said to him: “I am the Lord: I appeared to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as God Almighty, but by my name ‘The Lord’ I did not make myself known to them. I also established my covenant with them, to give them the land of Canaan, the land in which they resided as aliens. (Ex 6:2-4)
Though the land was considered a gift from God, conditions were set for the people’s continued enjoyment of this gift. God had initiated a covenant or mutual agreement of commitment with the people (see Ex 19:3-6). As part of this agreement, the people were expected to live in faithfulness to its stipulations. Having entered into this solemn pact with God, they were now considered God’s special people, and they were to act accordingly. God’s commitment to the people included a promise of land:
Keep, then, this entire commandment that I am commanding you today, so that you may have strength to go in and occupy the land that you are crossing over to occupy, and so that you may live long in the land that the Lord swore to your ancestors to give them and to their descendants, a land flowing with milk and honey. (Dt 11:8-9)
The land that was first promised to the ancestors, then promised anew to the people who had come out of Egyptian bondage, was given to those who had crossed the Jordan River into Canaan:
Thus the Lord gave to Israel all the land that he swore to their ancestors that he would give them; and having taken possession of it, they settled there. (Jos 21:43)
A gift is never earned; it is freely given as an expression of love. All that it requires is that the one receiving the gift accept it with gratitude, acknowledge and value it for what it really is, and show respect for it and for the giver by using it as it is intended to be used. Viewing the land as gift meant that the people did not assume that they enjoyed exclusive proprietorship with unrestrained exercise of authority over the use of the land. Furthermore, this land was not given to individuals but to a people, who together were responsible for the flourishing of the land and accountable to God for it. These characteristics are consistent with the ecojustice principles of intrinsic value and mutual custodianship.
Regardless of how one understands the manner in which ancient Israel occupied the land of Canaan, it is clear that the people never really claimed the land as theirs by right. Rather, they believed that it belonged to God. They were told to “cross over into the Lord’s land” (Jos 22:19). Their insistence that the land belonged to God might explain why in the early chapters of the Bible the land is seldom referred to as “the land of Israel.” Nonetheless, the people did enjoy a special relationship with the land, and the word most frequently used to describe this relationship is inheritance:
So Joshua took the whole land, according to all that the Lord had spoken to Moses; and Joshua gave it for an inheritance to Israel according to their tribal allotments. (Jos 11:23)
This word inheritance is used in various ways in different biblical passages. Consequently, its exact meaning is not always clear. Some commentators claim that inheritance refers to the actual property that is handed down from generation to generation. This understanding is challenged because, in the Book of Joshua, where the word is most frequently found,[5] the inheritance is assigned by God to an entire tribe as an allotment or portion of land on which that tribe would live, not merely as property willed to an heir at the death of a close relative, as inheritance is usually understood today. Perhaps the best way to understand how ancient Israel viewed inheritance is as entitlement or right to property, rather than as the actual property itself. The portion of property assigned to each tribe is then considered their allotment. This would mean that God’s promise of land to the ancestors gave their descendants a right to the land in which they would eventually settle. The Book of Joshua states the general assignment of land first. The Lord said to Joshua:
“Now therefore divide this land for an inheritance to the nine tribes and the half-tribe of Manasseh.” With the other half- tribe of Manasseh the Reubenites and the Gadites received their inheritance, which Moses gave them, beyond the Jordan eastward, as Moses the servant of the LORD gave them…. (Jos 13:7-8)
This declaration is followed by descriptions of specific allotments of land to each individual tribe (Jos 13-19). The allotment of land reflects a practice of feudal land grants that was popular in the ancient Near East. In it, a feudal lord granted land to a tenant. This grant required specific services from the tenant in return. Though land grants were given to the tenants, the land always belonged to the feudal lord. Ancient Israel transferred this social practice to a theological plane, thus giving religious meaning to the practice and bestowing religious significance to the land. These land grants or allotments were always conditional, dependent on the people’s conformity to the obligations to which they agreed when they entered into covenant with God:
If you transgress the covenant of the Lord your God, which he enjoined on you[,]…you shall perish quickly from the good land that he has given to you.” (Jos 23:16)
The understanding of inheritance and land grants highlights some important theological concepts. First, God is the sole owner of the land. Second, human beings are tenant settlers with both responsibility for the land and accountability to God. Third, the gift of land is conditional; it will only be enjoyed by the people if they are faithful to their covenant commitment. Various ecojustice concepts enhance our appreciation of land as inheritance. Land tenure was granted because of the need of the human settlers. They were totally dependent on the land; the land was not dependent on them. In other words, there was no doubt about its intrinsic value. Furthermore, the land tenure was granted to the entire tribe, both those alive at the time as well as future descendants. This corresponds to the ecojustice principle of mutual custodianship.
Although the land is generally referred to as gift or inheritance, there are passages where it is called a possession that was seized by means of force (Jos 12:6-7). While the Hebrew word for “seize” comes from the verb that is sometimes translated “inherit,” it means “to inherit for oneself by disinheriting another.” This idea is very disturbing for some contemporary readers, not primarily because of the violence implied, but because the land was forcibly taken from those already inhabiting it. These readers find it very difficult to defend what they see as invasion and land theft. Even more troublesome are the explicit statements that it was God who gave the land of Canaan to the people to lay siege to and to possess (Dt 19:24; 21:1; 25:19; Jos 1:11). Some passages even say that God actually aggressively cleared away the nations before them (Dt 7:1; 11:23; 31:3).
Various attempts to soften the severity of these passages have been advanced. Some claim that most of them are found in the Book of Deuteronomy, an exilic or postexilic book that interpreted earlier traditions through the lens of retribution theology. Thus, the historicity of the passages is doubtful. This argument might minimize the historical possibility of military activity, but it raises several serious theological questions. First, it thrusts to center stage the scandal of particularity – Israel’s privileged position among all other people. It is one thing to say that Israel was chosen over all other nations to enter into covenant with God; it is quite another to claim that God takes an actual stand in favor of Israel and against other people. The reason given for this preference is found in the Bible itself:
It is not because of your righteousness or the uprightness of your heart that you are going in to occupy their land; but because of the wickedness of these nations the Lord your God is dispossessing them before you, in order to fulfill the promise that the Lord made on oath to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob. (Dt 9:5)
Still, this reason lacks persuasiveness, for the people led by God were just as guilty of sin as were the Canaanites, perhaps even more so; for these invaders were bound to God by the intimate ties of covenant. So, why did God choose one unfaithful people over another? One might say that the Bible is after all the story of Israel told by Israel itself. One would expect Israel to be portrayed as chosen. While this is true, it does not address the thorny question: Does God have favorites?
According to this text, God allowed, even directed the people, to take the land of the Canaanites because of the earlier promise God made to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. One still might ask: Is the fulfillment of a promise made to one people reason enough to victimize another? A positive answer casts God into the guise of a capricious deity. Second, these passages present God as extraordinarily violent:
Know then today that the Lord your God is the one who crosses over before you as a devouring fire; he will defeat them and subdue them before you, so that you may dispossess and destroy them quickly, as the Lord has promised you. (Dt 9:3)
This violence is not simply forceful, as we understand the energies of nature to be. Rather, it is a violence that is explicitly directed against a people. Furthermore, the brutal seizing of land not only pits God against the Canaanites, but against Earth as well. War maims and destroys Earth and all living creatures of Earth. The land is scarred by the ravages of such violence, and these passages describe God as the perpetrator. Moreover, the people of God are directed to participate in such violence. By attributing this violence to God, it is awarded religious sanction.
Understanding of land as possession seized from those already living on it violates all of the ecojustice principles. In this scenario: 1) The land is regarded as a commodity to be taken from another if need be. Any value it may possess in itself is disregarded. The needs or desires of the invaders are uppermost. 2) There is no thought of the interconnectedness of the members of the “community of Earth” or of the interdependence that naturally flows from it. The invader is supreme. 3) Earth has no voice; there is no reason to consider its needs or well-being. 4) The plans and strategies of the invaders supersede any overall goals of a broader cosmic design. 5) There is no thought of responsibility for the delicate ecological balance on Earth and the creatures that rely on the bounty of Earth. Therefore, there is no regard for custodianship or stewardship. 6) Though Earth and Earth creatures suffer from the ravages of war, they are unable to resist them. Consequently, Earth’s ability to regenerate living forms is diminished with each military encounter.
Some have tried to salvage the idea of land as possession seized by God or by the people of God following God’s directive by insisting that the historical details are highly exaggerated. However, the stories with all of their details are what have been handed down as Sacred Scripture, and they appear to justify violence. Other commentators focus on God’s obvious unbounded care of the ancestors of the Israelites. However, even that positive concept is wedded to the idea that the price of that care was paid for by another people. The passages persist in being troublesome. Perhaps all one can say is that the tradition of land as possession is historically conditioned by the cultural practices and understandings of that time rather than revelatory for all times. Commentators might not know what to do with this troublesome tradition, but no one doubts that its obvious meaning should not be repeated. (However, such religiously justified conquest has been repeated time and time again – for example, the 19th century policy of “manifest destiny” executed by the United States.)
Since it is not Israel’s history that is revelatory for us, but its theological understanding of its relationship with God, retrieval of this tradition and our critique of it insists that we will have to think of new and more ecosensitive ways of expressing our conviction that God wants people to be secure and have access to the fruits of Earth.
With the exception of a few traditional tribes, most people in today’s world have a very different understanding of individual land rights. Plots of land are viewed as legal possessions, and individuals readily buy and sell them. At issue here is not the actual possession of the land, but the attitudes we have toward land itself. People often think: “The land is mine and I can do with it whatever I want.” Either that, or “The land only has value in its ability to serve my needs and desires.” It is attitudes like these that have resulted in the exploitation and pollution of Earth, attitudes like these that can be remedied by the view of land found in the Bible.
First and foremost is the Bible’s insistence that the land is really God’s and only freely given to human beings as a gift, as an inheritance to be cared for. Thus it is not ours to do with as we please. Individuals might exercise land rights, but they also have serious responsibilities when it comes to ecological systems and limits. Furthermore, the true value of the land is not dependent on its ability to provide sustenance and wealth for human beings. Rather, it is valuable in itself as having been brought forth by God.
Second, Earth is a community of interconnected and interdependent creatures. Too often we think that living creatures, both plants and animals, depend for their survival on the efforts that human beings invest in various forms of agriculture and managing livestock. Actually, all life forms, including human beings, are dependent on Earth, not the other way around. The early Israelites had to learn the life-producing possibilities of the land on which they lived, as well as the patterns of weather if they were going to survive and thrive on that land. Societies that are immediately dependent on the productivity of Earth are usually more aware of this interconnectedness and interdependence than are city dwellers. However, water, land, and air pollution as well as the effects of climate change have brought this fact to the forefront of the lives of all. We all have much to relearn in this area.
Finally, the productivity of the land and of the living creatures of that land was intimately linked with the people’s fidelity to their freely taken covenant obligations. When the people were unfaithful, the innocent land and those dependent on it suffered the consequences along with the guilty human beings. This is evident in experiences of drought, famine, the death of animals, and then of destruction and conquest of the land, first by the Assyrians and then by the Babylonians. One might see this as an injustice. After all, it was the humans who dishonored the covenant, not the rest of creation. However, this shared affliction illustrates the interconnectedness of all creatures of Earth. When one aspect of Earth suffers, all of Earth suffers.
THINGS TOO WONDERFUL FOR ME
The affinity of creation theology with the wisdom tradition of Israel has long been recognized. However, in most studies creation is considered one theme among many, and regularly one of secondary importance rather than the basis of theology. The reason for this was due in part to the publication of monumental works by biblical scholars who claimed that the Bible (both testaments) was primarily the story of God’s plan of salvation. This resulted in raising ‘salvation-history’ from being one biblical theme among many to the privileged status as central focus of the entire biblical corpus. The Wisdom tradition was often relegated to the place of an addendum. Furthermore, when not dismissed as a mythological account of primeval origins, the creation tradition is often considered merely a feature of literary expression (e.g., nature poetry or imagery). Such a restrictive approach is both unfortunately and seriously misleading.
Who does not know the story found in the Book of Job? A righteous man is sorely stricken with myriad misfortunes and disease. According to the theory of retribution so prominent in the worldview that he espouses – a theory that maintains the good should be rewarded for their righteousness and only the wicked should experience hardship – there is no viable explanation for his predicament. His greatest suffering is not his loss, but his inability to understand why God has allowed this to happen to him. In his suffering, he is visited first by a team of three men and then by a fourth. Holding to the same understanding of retribution, they contend that his situation will be relieved only if he confesses his guilt and repents of his error. Job refuses to do this.
After long and pointless arguments with his unsympathetic visitors, Job turns to God and demands some kind of explanation for the suffering that has overwhelmed him. God does respond, but with questions rather than answers. Furthermore, the questions address the design and operation of the natural world and not the specifics of Job’s afflictions. Many commentators suggest that God is indifferent to Job’s concerns. However, a closer look at the manner of God’s questioning and the character of God’s questions will show that God really places Job’s demands in a context much broader than the afflicted man envisioned. Job is struggling with questions about human nature or anthropology; God directs Job’s attention to the universe or cosmology.
Perhaps the most neglected characteristic of this multifaceted biblical book is the revelatory significance of nature that is drawn there. Job stands in awe of the vistas of creation that unfold before him by means of God’s interrogation. However, the questions posed by God are much more than a test of Job’s knowledge of the universe. Like a good teacher, God poses questions to Job that force him to look beyond his own questioning. They are rhetorical questions meant to lead Job to a depth of understanding far greater than any level of knowledge mere answers would be able to provide.
The questions themselves are not simple queries seeking information. They are ironic questions that serve to correct Job’s shortsighted perception of his ability to grasp some of the mysteries of life in general and of his life in particular. “Where were you when I founded the earth? . . . Have you ever in your lifetime commanded the morning and shown the dawn its place? . . . Do you know about the birth of the mountain goats? . . . Do you give the horse his strength, and endow his neck with splendor?” (Jb 38:4,12; 39:1,19) The marvel of this questioning technique is seen in its ability to bring Job to real wisdom despite, or perhaps because of, the indirectness of the approach. God asks questions about cosmic nature and Job gains insight into human nature. Cosmology reveals the place of anthropology. Job recognizes some connectedness between the cosmos and himself. What that connectedness might be, we do not know. He obviously comes to realize that it is because of that connectedness that as God cares for other creatures of Earth, so God will care for him.
As important a role as nature plays in this remarkable biblical book, it is not the principal marvel showcased here. Rather, it is the awesome God who is manifested through the natural world. In other words, the artistry of God can be seen in the splendor of the universe; God’s unsurpassed wisdom is evident in the world’s delicate balance; God’s incomparable imagination is expressed in nature’s vast diversity; God’s providence is displayed in earth’s inherent fruitfulness. The natural world was not only born of the creativity of God, it also bears the features of this creativity. Every property of creation mirrors something of the Creator. It is not enough to say that creation is the medium through which God is revealed. In a very real sense, the medium is itself the revelation. Creation is a revelation of God. Job states this clearly in his final response. There he testifies to having seen something of God, not merely the splendor of creation: “I had heard of you by word of mouth, but now my eye has seen you” (42:5).
The wonders of creation that were paraded before Job were not unknown to him before this extraordinary revelation by God. By and large, they constituted the everyday world that he knew, but which he did not fully understand. It was the ordinary world within which he lived, but which he seems to have taken for granted. This breathtaking, even mystical experience of creation has catapulted him out of the narrow confines of anthropocentrism, concerned exclusively with his own valid yet self-centered matters, into the vast expanses of splendor and mystery of the universe. It has brought him to realize that human history unfolds within the broader context of the natural world, and not vice versa. Job comes to see that the natural world does not merely serve the ends of human history. His encounter with the ineffable Creator-God has led him to this new insight. It is an insight that transforms him from a self-pitying victim of circumstances to a human being who has endured the struggles of human finitude and has emerged chastened, yet nonetheless a mystic.
In his last response to God, Job admits that he has been converted to God’s point of view, even without comprehending it. The God whom he previously knew and to whom he had been faithful was, according to his earlier understanding, a God of righteousness, one who recognized Job’s integrity and apparently rewarded him for it. The God whom Job now knows is the mysterious power who brought forth the world, as a man begets or as a woman gives birth, and who is somehow revealed in and through that wondrous world. This is a God who can provide for the entire resplendent universe without being distracted from the specific needs of fragile human beings. God can do this, because God’s designs are grander than, yet still inclusive of, human history.
God has taken human suffering, the most pressing concern of human life, and has situated it within a broader context. That context is material creation in its entirety. The speeches of God have shown Job that, in the midst of measureless natural grandeur, the ambiguity of human life can be confronted with the honesty and humility that it requires, an honesty and humility that can admit to and accept the limited capacity of human comprehension. Creation itself has expanded Job’s vision and called him to a deepening of faith that goes beyond understanding. The reason for Job’s suffering is never disclosed to him. However, what is revealed is something much more momentous. Job learns that even those dimensions of creation that are beyond his own ability to comprehend or control are in the safe keeping of the same God who here speaks with him. The God who has been active in his life in mysterious ways is the very creator responsible for the wonders of creation.
The Book of Job demonstrates the profound human struggle between anthropology and cosmology, between human-centered interests and cosmo-centered realities. It pits the search for understanding against the enormity of the universe that cannot be grasped, and it does it in a way that the human spirit is enraptured, not broken. The Job who previously demanded answers from God may be here humbled, forced to acknowledge his human limitations, but he is not humiliated. He can still stand before God and respond to the marvels spread out before him. The commonplace yet strangely unfamiliar natural world awakens in him amazement at its wonders and leaves his spellbound. Having called on God to put things right in his individual life, Job has been led by the magnitude of creation beyond himself, there to realize that he could not fathom the laws by which God governs: “I have dealt with things that I do not understand; things too wonderful for me, which I cannot know” (42:3). In the end, cosmology does not defeat anthropology. Rather, it opens its arms to welcome back its prodigal child.
Two very important ecojustice principles can be detected here. First and foremost is the realization of the intrinsic value of all creation, which is made clear in God’s questioning. The value of creatures is not determined by their usefulness to Job, for he neither understands them nor has he control over them. As for the second principle, the interconnectedness of members of the “community of Earth,” Job’s new ability to move from a realization of God’s care of the broader world of creation to an appreciation of that same care in his regard is based on his perceived though unidentified connection between the universe and himself.
SO…
What can be said about reading the Bible through the lens of ecojustice principles? First, there really is no option. If theology is to be relevant, it must be grounded in solid contemporary science. Second, new lenses often yield new insights. New insights can open us to new layers of meaning not perceived before. Third, questioning expression does not always mean rejection of the basic meaning. Biblical interpretation often requires that we discover the underlying meaning of the passage and then recast that meaning in language and concepts appropriate to the contemporary hearer. When Jesus was questioned about his innovative interpretation of the law, he replied:
“Therefore every scribe who has been trained for the kingdom of heaven is like the master of a household who brings out of his treasure what is new and what is old.” (Mt 13:52)
It is creation that provides the song, at times a fugue, at other times a ballet . Our challenge is to detect the nuances of that song and invite the Bible into the dance.
Dianne Bergant, CSA is the Carroll Stuhlmueller, CP Distinguished Professor Emerita of Biblical Studies at Catholic Theological Union in Chicago.
[1] YHWH is the particular name of the God of Israel. The ancient Israelites believed that a dimension of an individual’s identity was contained in that person’s name. Therefore, after the Babylonian exile (ca. 586 B.C.E.) as a sign of respect for God, the divine name was not pronounced and only the consonants of the name were written.
[2] Many ecologists today think of Earth (with a capital E) as a subject with rights and privileges, rather than earth as an object totally dependent on human beings.
[3] Norman Habel inserts a step between suspicion and retrieval called empathy or identification. He suggests that the reader identify with some aspect of Earth and then read the text from that point of view. However, if one is able to recognize and explicitly acknowledge the intimate connectedness of all members of the “community of Earth,” such a step might appear to be artificial and unnecessary. See Norman C. Habel, “Introducing Ecological Hermeneutics,” in Exploring Ecological Hermeneutics (Atlanta: Society of Biblical Literature, 2008), 1-8.
[4] Norman C. Habel, ed., Readings from the Perspective of Earth, The Earth Bible Volume One (Sheffield, UK: Sheffield Academic Press, 2000), 24.
[5] Appearances of this word are too numerous to cite. It is found almost 50 times in the accounts of the allotment of land to the various tribes alone; Jos 13-19.