B Creation
1 Humanity OL BFC 2015
Psalm
8
September
6, 2015
This weekend I was scanning channels
and recognized that one of the Star Trek movies I had never seen was showing up
on the SyFy channel. As an avowed
Trekkie, I knew I was staying up late to watch it. Now let me make it clear. I was not so nerdly as to attend a Star Trek
convention or speak in Klingon, but I was almost there. What I do remember is wanting to grow up to
be Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise. Time is running out. Starships have yet to be created. So local church pastor is where I get to make
regular speeches about the nature of life, like Captain Kirk.
One of the most interesting narratives
throughout all versions of the Star Trek series was what it meant to be
human. Data, in the New Generation
series, and Mr. Spock, in the original Star Trek, through logic, emotion, and
contemplation, regularly provoked discussions about what was essentially human
and what was something else. As I was a
Captain Kirk fan, so I also appreciated the critical, raised eyebrow of Mr.
Spock as he often bemoaned and sometimes praised what it meant to be
human.
I read with great interest the number
of tributes to Leonard Nimoy, the actor who played Mr. Spock, upon his death in
February of this year. Many people
related Nimoy’s self-understanding as a Jewish person, how his characteristic
hand greeting, fingers parted, saying “Live long and prosper,” came from an
obscure Jewish blessing which had the presence of God, “Shekinah”, coming upon
the gathered congregation as the rabbis extended their hands using what became
known as the Vulcan greeting. Though
Star Trek regularly asked whether Mr. Spock had any of his human mother within
him, his colleagues and friends related Nimoy as one of the most “human” people
they knew. By their description, “human”
defining Nimoy as humble, compassionate, and inclusive.
What does it mean to be “human?” What does our tradition say?
Over a year ago today, I preached
my trial sermon at Billings First Church on this very same Scripture
passage. I spoke of God’s call to
courageous individuals and communities who recognize the immediacy of the
climate crisis in front of us.
Indeed, many of the Psalms are a
celebration of God’s wondrous creation and pick up on the theology of the two
creation stories found in the book of Genesis.
Each one of those creation stories relates a process God begins not out
of nothing, as many theologians have assumed, but with a state of being we
might very well say humankind is undoing with our behavior. One story begins with chaos moves to order
and ends with rest. Another story begins
in the desert. Are we undoing God’s
creative process to return to chaos and desert?
There is wisdom in these ancient stories that observes life over
thousands of years to know the span and pace of the created order and plan.
Some of that wisdom has been routinely
ignored in the present climate change debate which naively suggests that God’s
sovereignty somehow trumps all of human behavior. That we would not teach our children and our
children’s children the basic tenet, “We reap what we sow,” is irresponsible. Poison in, poison out, and eventually a
resulting desert. An unwillingness to
know our own boundaries and limits to the energy we unleash out into the land,
sea, and air gets displaced into further and further chaos of wind, fire, and
plate tectonics. These seem like basic
and simple moral maxims that, although they have their limits, are woven into the
fabric of the universe. I am sometimes
incredulous that the overwhelming amount of science is opposed by people who
claim faith but ignore basic corollaries of faith: we reap what we sow; Sabbath and rest are
necessary rhythms.
Psalm
8 borrows strongly from the theology found in the second story of creation
found in Genesis, Chapter 2. Within
Psalm 8 is that profound acknowledgment of our necessary humility and
responsibility. In Genesis, Chapter 2,
and Psalm 8, we are created as children of the fertile topsoil, the meaning of
the Hebrew word (adam)ah[1]
one with the earth in humus or humility.
And, yet, in recognizing our power and possibility, we were created to
be a little less than the divine or angels.
In wonderment and awe before God’s creation, Psalm 8 shares our place in
the universe.
In the end, there is really not more
to preach than this.
Late this spring, Northern Plains
Resource Council held an event titled, “Could the soil save us?” and then this
summer Yellowstone Valley Citizens Council invited the author of the book, The Lentil Underground, to share how the
health and replenishment of the soil is necessary for our food future. It would seem that the truth and Spirit of
God is moving round about us in Billings.
This past week I was part of a
national telephone conference on the Slow Food movement. One of the speakers for that conference was
Dan Barber, the co-owner and Executive Chef of Blue Hill Farm in New York. Barber has brought together the necessary
marriage of urban New York City and rural life in New York State with his farm
and restaurant. In so doing, he has
called for chefs, farmers, and diners to recognize our interdependent
relationship with the soil. Our diet, Barber
believes, should be crafted around the necessary rotations of plant and food
that would keep the soil nutrient-rich.
As a result, he now introduces clover in a dish he makes with
potatoes. Alice Waters, Vice-President
of Farm to Table and Chef and Owner at the famous restaurant, Chez Panisse, has
introduced chocolate-covered clover to her menu.[2] All to recognize that as the soil goes, so
goes humankind.
It would seem that just now we are
making our way full circle with the acquired wisdom that we are one in the same
with the soil. Our futures are
inextricably tied to one another.
I was sharing with Walt Gulick the
other day that in the Biblical book of Daniel, the prophet Daniel, in the midst
of imperial defeat, oppression, and violence, has a vision of an age when all
of that imperial oppression and violence shall come to an end. Empire after empire is represented by
carnivorous beasts whose teeth consume and consume and consume, destroying life
and creating devastation. These beasts are ravenous. The story shares that the other
characteristic of these empires is their arrogance. They think of themselves as exceptional, not
like any other nation or empire. Daniel’s
vision is clear. This destruction, devastation,
and arrogance is intrinsic to empire.
In the arrogance of every Pharaoh,
Caesar, and President, the most universal claim of empire after empire is their
longevity and reach. They and the gods
are one. Their rule shall be eternal and
span from land to sea, shore to shore.
As a result, one of the
mythological characters opposing empire in Daniel’s vision is the Ancient of
Days. The Ancient of Days is a Divine
figure that existed before every empire and will endure long after every empire
has fallen. The Ancient of Days counters
every claim to longevity.
The other Divine figure opposing
the carnivorous beasts of empire is the Human One, traditionally translated the
Son of Man, the most frequently used title by Jesus of Nazareth. Literally translated from the Hebrew, this is
the Child of the Fertile Topsoil. The
Human One, the Child of the Fertile Topsoil, stands against those who, with
their insatiable and ravenous appetite, create destruction and devastation, set
loose the forces of chaos and overwork humankind and the land to leave all
desolate and desert.
According to the Bible, what
defines us as most human is to recognize our responsibility, humility, and
connection with the earth itself as fertile topsoil. The story may very well teach us that when
the fertile topsoil disappears, the very substance necessary to make us human
will also disappear. More than any other
time in human history, we must answer the age-old Star Trek question, “What
does it mean to be human?” Holy
Scripture answers that question by saying it is to follow the Human One as an
opposition to imperial appetite, arrogance, oppression, and violence. And according to Psalm 8 and our creation
stories, we are most human when we recognize our responsibility, humility, and
connection with the fertile topsoil. If
we are to have any hope in this age, to do something long and everlasting with
the Ancient of Days, it will be to somehow begin to recognize our humility,
groundedness, and relationship to the soil and how our humanity is vested in
it, so that we may live long and prosper.
Amen.
[1] Ellen F. Davis, Amos Ragan Kearns Distinguished
Professor of Bible and Practical Theology at Duke Divinity School, is the one
who named this translation.
[2] You can listen in to the whole conversation
here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tGjjlBmCSJc
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