The journey of doing Christian ecotheology: A collective mapping of the terrain

A long journey

Christian ecotheology may be described as a long and evolving journey. It has been indeed a journey of more than forty years. Some would refer to a famous essay by Lynn White on ‘The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis’, ¹ in which he argued that Christianity ‘bears a huge burden of guilt’ for ecological destruction. This prompted various Christian apologies and some heated debate. However, where this journey started could also be pinpointed in other ways. It certainly gathered some momentum already by the 1970s. It may be a journey that will be continuing for many decades to come.

The notion of a journey suggests a combination of a sense of place (the spatial turn) and the recognition of a temporal axis. Participating in a journey implies shifting horizons in travelling through a landscape. These horizons are constituted by not only evolutionary change (if a larger frame of reference is used) but also the way in which environmental problems have become aggravated over the past decades, vividly illustrated by climate change and rising levels of CO₂ in the atmosphere. One may add shifts in the nature of environmental discourse from ‘limits to growth’ (the MIT report to the Club of Rome, 1972), to ‘sustainable development’ (the Brundtland report, 1987; the World Summit on Sustainable Development, 2002), to the social dimensions of eco-justice (at least from Rio de Janeiro, 1992), to reflections on carrying capacity (or footprints) and the ability of the biosphere to absorb the waste products of the industrialized economy (Kyoto, 1997), to the recognition of the limits to induce the required political and social change (after Copenhagen, 2009). Other shifting horizons include changes in the global economy, cultural change, the transformation of ecclesial traditions and developments in theological reflection. Together, one may speak of a layered horizon that is constantly shifting.

Describing the journey

The journey may be described in different ways. It is not merely a form of homeless wandering and definitely not a form of tourism. It is indeed an ‘incredible journey’, to some extent a voyage of exploration extending the frontiers through scientific discovery (albeit that voyages of exploration too often end up in conquest), perhaps a ‘long walk to freedom’ (Nelson Mandela), or a non-violent march for justice based on satyagraha (Gandhi), possibly the journey of a group of homeless refugees, perhaps a journey to the promised land or the movement of a people in diaspora. It clearly forms part of the ‘journey of the universe’ (Thomas Berry, Mary Evelyn Tucker, Brian Swimme), the earth’s story, the brief episode within that following the emergence of hominid species, the history of religions and the history of Christianity. But it has to be described more specifically. It may well be some form of religiously motivated pilgrimage, a way of sojourning (but not in the sense of being sojourners merely by living on the earth) or even a homecoming journey where one may arrive home, knowing it for the first time (T. S. Eliot).

A collective journey

This journey of doing ecotheology is not one for lonely wanderers even if some of us may at times experience it as a lonesome struggle. It is a collective journey with many companions. Some have stopped along the road, some are still with us in spirit while others are yet to join us. However, it is not yet a mass movement.

More specifically, it is clear that most of us are travelling in groups with particular conversation partners. We tend to work in smaller guilds where we can talk to colleagues with whom we share specific interests and views. On this basis, we identify authoritative gurus, select some works as standard reading, identify significant conversation partners, attend certain conferences and publish our work in selected journals. All of this is perhaps understandable but there have emerged some tensions between these discourses, leading to mutual reservations. To name these discourses may help to identify the factors contributing to such conflicts. Moreover, one also needs to take tensions between academic discourses, participation in various forms of activism and ecclesial affiliation into account.

We identified and named some of the current discourses before our gathering (one may say a gathering of travellers at one inn along the road). These discourses include the Earth Bible project, ecumenical engagements on a ‘Just, Participatory and Sustainable Society’ (Nairobi, 1975), discourses in the fields of applied ethics, for example, on animal issues, food issues, biotechnology or climate change, various regional modes of ecofeminism, engagement in the struggles around environmental racism and the rights of indigenous peoples, the Christian Faith and the Earth project (on Christian symbols, doctrines and loci), Christian engagement in a wide range of local earth-keeping projects and work on sustainable communities, efforts to promote ‘Earth Mission’, ‘responsible stewardship’ or ‘environmental priesthood’, efforts towards the greening of institutions, innovations around ecology and liturgy (e.g. around a ‘Season of Creation’), the work within the Forum on Religion and Ecology, and reflections on ecology and cosmology in conversations with the natural sciences. Indeed, a bewildering array of discourses!

The list is not exhaustive but indicative of some of the many discourses that currently constitute the broad field (or journey) of Christian ecotheology. Many of us participate in more than one such discourse, joining different guilds at different times and then experience not only some affinities but also some underlying tensions. Moreover, for many of us such journeys are deeply intertwined with other journeys (in which we are also participating) including working for social justice, involvement in other scientific discourses and in multi-religious dialogue and collaboration.

The aim of mapping (or navigating through) the terrain is to understand the various points of departure for such a journey, together with the presuppositions, motivations, aims and methods that are playing a role in this regard, and the changing vistas and horizons that are experienced en route. On this basis it may be better to speak of a set of journeys of doing Christian ecotheology, or of several distinct journeys that tend to cross each other at various points. There is clearly a need for several maps highlighting different aspects. Any one map will allow for different journeys.

Journeys through an unchartered landscape (or seascape)

These journeys require some maps, but these maps are not yet available. It cannot be likened to a GPS where the system of coordinates is known accurately and where one can pinpoint one’s current position. This is born from the recognition that the story of doing Christian ecotheology (over a few decades) is situated in a much longer story, in ‘deep’, geological time, symbolized by evolutionary history, plate tectonics and indeed an evolving universe.

It is a journey where compasses are available and where a sense of direction can therefore be determined, even if we may be using different compasses. This allows for some orientation and certain reference points but that typically only emerges through experiences of disorientation. For some, this sense of orientation may be understood in the narrow sense, namely, focused on the Orient, on Jerusalem and on Calvary, while others would want to include Mecca. What is clear is that the metaphor of ‘mapping’ may be misleading, because any one map distorts reality precisely through the attempt to model reality by identifying some salient features and thus simplifying what is highly complex. A better metaphor may be that of navigation, understood as navigating through an unchartered landscape with a few reference points and some sense of orientation. Clearly, the map is not the territory; maps are representations that may provide some reference points.

A journey from an unacceptable present

Refugees have to depart from a place they once called home because they can no longer live there for some reason. But if life itself is a journey, one cannot identify any one moment where one has departed or ‘arrived’. In describing doing ecotheology as a journey a mixing of metaphors can be tolerated. The analogy remains limited, however: for refugees such a journey is traumatic and not chosen, while the journeys of doing ecotheology are often voluntary and bear much joy and even excitement. What is at least clear is that this is an attempt to move away from a situation that is unacceptable.

Broadly one may say that this has to do with a sense of crisis, most notably an ‘environmental crisis’. The tipping points associated with climate change provide ominous examples of what can go and have gone wrong. The word ‘crisis’ may indeed evoke apocalyptic imagery that often induce fear and seldom inspire hope. Yet, the category of fear may be helpful to describe what we sense has gone wrong. What is it that we fear most? Some may describe that in terms of the destruction of a forest, the contamination of water supplies, the collapse of particular ecosystems, a requiem for a species, the end of evolution. Others would describe it more narrowly in ecclesial terms as the loss of credibility for the Church or one ecclesial tradition to deal with the underlying problems. It may elicit a more profound loss of trust in the meaning-making symbols that have helped us to find our ways in the past. Either way, those of us who nevertheless live in relative comfort within the present system should not hide from ourselves that at times we do fear the loss of privilege, that we do not know whether we will be able to cope if our lifestyles can no longer be based on industrialized forms of civilization. We all recognize that industrialized societies are unsustainable in their present form but we do not know what should come in their place. We recognize the imminent collapse of this form of civilization built on fossil fuels, but do not even know whether the human species will survive the looming catastrophe.

The roots of the unacceptable present

We describe the roots of the unacceptable present in different ways. Broadly, Christians may attribute the problem to human sin, but sin can be described in many different ways (e.g. as pride, greed, sloth or the privation of the good). Historically, some of the roots of the current crisis can be traced to the industrial revolution, but how did that come about? Here one may refer to the role of science and technology, to the emergence of modernity, to the logic of domination in the name of difference (gender, race, culture), the impact of ‘interlocking dualisms’ (body and soul, heaven and earth, spirit and matter etc.), systemic injustices, and to the influence of religious traditions and their legitimation of particular social orders.

It is possible to extend this analysis of the ways in which the roots of the crisis are described. Some see the dominant problem in terms of anthropocentrism, that is, the claim that the human species is not only distinctive but also superior – with many implications for human interaction with non-human beings. Some describe the root of the problem in terms of alienation, that is, alienation from ancestral land, from the means of production, from an agrarian way of life, from a sense of being ‘at home on earth’. Some describe the problem primarily in terms of violence and more specifically in terms of the social structures of domination in the name of differences of race/ethnicity, class, gender, caste, education and sexual orientation. Clearly, these descriptions can complement each other, but the different descriptions can lead one to focus on particular problems rather than on others.

A journey with a sense of destination

These journeys have an eschatological sense of destination but that is also hard to describe. For many the direction of the field of ecotheology, if not of environmental praxis, remains an open question. Perhaps it would suffice to describe this in relatively vague terms as the flourishing of earth communities, sustainability, ecological liberation (setting creation free), enlightenment, peace (shalom) or comprehensive wellbeing. It may also be expressed in the ecumenical vision for ‘Justice, Peace and the Integrity of Creation’ (Vancouver, World Council of Churches, 1983). The disadvantage of such a vague description of the vision would be that it is precisely such a vision that provides the source of inspiration for an earthkeeping ethos and praxis and for theological reflection on that. A sense of beauty, wonder, awe and mystery, based on personal experience (e.g. through exposure to wilderness), is typically assumed here. We each have a sense of the destiny that inspires us but we may describe that in very different ways. To capture such a vision and a sense of destination therefore remains elusive. It is at least clear that what is attractive attracts or lures one towards the ultimate goal. This suggests a close correlation between aesthetics and ethics, which is recognized in some forms of ecotheology, if often overlooked elsewhere.

Sources of inspiration for the journey

It is not so difficult to identify various sources of inspiration for these journeys of doing Christian ecotheology. All of us drink from different sources but the ways in which we blend these sources together are obviously also different. These sources may be imagined as various tributaries flowing into a river, that is, from mountain streams and larger lakes. Or one may see them as paths through which individuals have joined the journey of ecotheology. Others may see them as dangerous sideways that can lead one astray by branching off onto inappropriate themes. Another way to map these sources is in terms of the Methodist notion of a quadrilateral, namely, Scripture, tradition, reason and experience.

Scripture refers here to the biblical roots of Christianity although some would want to include other sacred texts. For some, Scripture offers incredibly rich resources for ecological wisdom. Others recognize that at least some texts support or seem to support domination over non-human nature (i.e., ‘grey’ or ‘inconvenient’ texts). This tension is recognized in current debates on an ecological biblical hermeneutics (i.e., in the Earth Bible series and the Exeter project). Most scholars do recognize the need for both a hermeneutics of trust and of suspicion, of recovery and of critique, but the one is often emphasized more than the other.

Tradition here refers to the influence of various religious traditions and, more narrowly, to various ecclesial traditions, for better or for worse. Our traditions not only facilitate understanding and provide us with necessary conceptual and heuristic tools but also become distorted, often remain in conflict with other traditions and are clearly in need of transformation and renewal, of something like an ecological reformation (James Nash). These traditions are necessarily fluid in order to respond to emerging challenges, even if they also have remarkable staying power. In a pluralist context one often finds an intertwining of such traditions, including different religious traditions.

Under ‘tradition’ one should also recognize the role of different theological schools. These may coincide with confessional traditions (e.g. Orthodox, Catholic, Lutheran, reformed, evangelical, Anabaptist and Pentecostal theologies), each leading to a distinct form of ecotheology. However, new theological schools have emerged that have established traditions of their own and that shape what people read, how they think and how they address ecological challenges. One may consider the role of political theology, liberation theology (now in many modes), feminist theology (in even more modes), black theology, indigenous theologies, process theology and then the schools associated with thinkers like Barth, Bonhoeffer, Berry, Rahner, Teilhard de Chardin, Tillich, Whitehead and many others. Ecotheology is clearly influenced by all these traditions, but can hardly be described as such as a school. It is simply far too amorphous. There is little doubt that many differences in contemporary ecotheology may be attributed to the role of tradition. This is indicated by the vocabulary typically employed: consider notions such as ‘environmental stewardship’, the priest as ‘microcosmos of creation’, the recognition of living in a ‘divine milieu’, the need for asceticism, an incarnational, sacramental spirituality, the hope in God’s promises of liberation, the struggle for eco-justice and so forth. The distinct typologies of ecotheology offered by John Haught, Rosemary Radford Ruether, Sallie McFague and Paul Santmire each focuses on such differences in terms of tradition, the reception of such traditions and the tension between trust, suspicion and the need for revisiting such traditions.

The role of reason is contested given the impact of modernity with its destructive and dominating modes of rationality. However, no one doubts the value of critical inquiry and the need for intellectual skills, habits and disciplines. The influence of insights from the various sciences on ecotheology will be mentioned below under ‘experience’. Here it may be helpful to consider various ways of thinking with reference to views on the philosophy of science (e.g. positivism, realism, phenomenology, constructionism), forms of epistemology (postmodern options, various hermeneutics of nature), different approaches to environmental ethics (natural law, utilitarianism, an ethics of duty, an ethics of virtue) and environmental philosophy (e.g. biocentrism, the land ethics, deep ecology, social ecology, ecofeminism, pragmatism). This clearly suggests influences from outside the Christian tradition that are merged with traditions and positions adopted within Christianity.

The category of experience should be understood both personally and more broadly. Personal experiences undoubtedly play a crucial role in individual biographies of an engagement with ecotheology. Here, one may reflect on the role of one’s presuppositions, motivations, commitments, the methods employed, fears and anxieties, questions, doubts and uncertainties, desires and hopes, and one’s deepest convictions. One observation that may be offered here is that each of us tends to believe that our ideas can be transformative, while others may find the very same ideas oppressive or merely the product of material/societal changes.

The category of experience also relates to the role of culture, religion, the social analysis of particular contexts (‘thinking from this place’), with the help of a variety of social sciences, literature and the arts. Such social analysis would be deeply influenced by the social construction of difference in terms of region, location, race, class, gender and sexual orientation. Any form of ecotheology is therefore necessarily and also deliberately contextual in nature. The category of experience may also draw insights emerging from contemporary natural sciences (notably cosmology, geology, evolutionary biology, ecology in the narrower sense, animal ethology, the cognitive sciences, behavioural sciences and so forth).

It is abundantly clear that such ‘experience’ is constituted in very different ways. There can be no doubt that many differences within ecotheology can be attributed to the selected range of other disciplines that one relates to Christian theology and the selection of particular conversation partners within those disciplines. There are too many examples to mention here, but it should be clear that some of us focus on religious diversity, on economic theory, on social analysis, on evolutionary biology or on astrophysics in order to understand the local, global and cosmic contexts within which we live and work. For some the local context invites social analysis, others are concerned about global economic patterns (the impact of globalization), while yet others seek to find the place of the human species within a larger evolutionary and cosmic framework. All of this is revealed in the footnotes that we add to our texts, the authors that we tend to cite and what we regard as standard reading. Often such discourses are isolated from each other, leading to mutual suspicions.

It is clear that each of us necessarily employs all these sources (sacred texts, traditions, thinking skills and contextual analysis). However, we do not give the same weight to each of these sources. Here, one may point to classic debates on the authority of Scripture, the difference between a hermeneutics of trust and of suspicion towards ecclesial and theological traditions, the dialectic of Enlightenment (trust and suspicion towards the powers of reason and the potential of dialogue), the normative status that we attach to our personal experience (and the social analysis of that experience), and the extent to which our understanding of the world is shaped by insights from contemporary science or by indigenous world-views.

A hermeneutical analysis of such sources

One may offer a hermeneutical analysis of the way such sources are related to each other. This would function as a kind of synchronic cross-section of one moment in the journey. Such a hermeneutical analysis may explore the relationship between text and context, the gospel and our culture, both the significance of resources in the Christian tradition to address the environmental crisis and the challenge from the context to this tradition (through a form of inverse hermeneutics), calling for a reformation of the tradition. Just as feminist theology engages in a twofold critique, that is, a Christian critique of sexist or patriarchal culture and a feminist critique of Christianity, so ecotheology offers a Christian critique of the economic and cultural patterns underlying ecological destruction and an ecological critique of Christianity.

Such a hermeneutical analysis can plot the role of seven sets of factors, namely, (1) the text, (2) the world behind the text, (3) the tradition of interpretation ‘in front of the text’, (4) strategies for appropriation, (5) contextual analysis, (6) the hidden world ‘below’ text, context and tradition (interests distorting interpretation inviting a hermeneutics of suspicion) and (7) the significance of the rhetorical context within which interpretation is situated (e.g. the role of different ‘publics’ of theology such as Church, academy and various spheres of society).

The value of this analysis is that it may help us to see how the guilds within the broader field of ecotheology (see above) correlate with the traditional sub-disciplines of Christian theology (i.e. the fourfold paradigm still widely adopted in theological education and the corresponding scholarly societies). It may also help to account for the methodological conflicts between these discourses in ecotheology. The field of Biblical Studies developed in opposition to the hegemony imposed by ecclesial restrictions on the basis of an understanding of Christian doctrine. Likewise, the field of Practical Theology has to establish its own parameters with an emphasis on ministerial training and empirical research on what the Church is, rather than on what it should be. One may add the tension between Christian ethics and all the other disciplines, given not only a recognition of the need for ‘applied ethics’ but also the contested grounding of Christian ethics in the biblical roots of Christianity and in Christian doctrine. Likewise, the relationship between (Christian) spirituality and other disciplines is often contested. The same applies to the position of missiology. Many of us experience the methodological tensions between Christian theology as a whole and Religious Studies. This tension can be construed in different ways and will be deeply influenced by one’s views on interreligious dialogue.

Modes of transport

One may also describe the interplay between text, tradition, reason and experience (insights from other disciplines) in terms of various vehicles that are employed in the journeys of doing ecotheology. One may be tempted here to comment on modes of (public) transport and on issues of mobility and speed (noting the carbon footprint of international conferences). However, these vehicles are best seen as thematic interests. These are often of an interdisciplinary nature. This may also help to explain the distinct discourses in ecotheology in the sense that those interested in the same themes will talk to each other, cite one another’s work, but still work in isolation from many others.

Each of these vehicles (or thematic interests) is constructed from the raw materials of text, tradition, reason and experience. The possibility of movement is sparked by the interplay between these materials. This interplay also fuels the movement, providing the ‘energy’ that sustains further reflection. Thus a mapping of ecotheology includes not only a discussion of the contested terrain but also a recognition that different vehicles navigate this terrain and do that in quite different ways. Indeed, some configurations would disallow one to follow certain routes, while favouring others.

There are numerous such themes that are addressed in ecotheology, too many to mention here. A few examples may suffice: ethical issues such as mobility, food and the impact of international debt; concepts such as covenant, hope and the sacred; challenges such as climate change, species extinction and biodiversity; forms of praxis around worship, greening and lifestyle issues. Each of these themes would require an integration of various sources and tributaries as indicated above.

Steering through certain tensions

In travelling with these vehicles through the terrain one typically also has to negotiate or ‘steer through’ certain tensions. One may identify several of these tensions that are also familiar in wider theological debates, for example, the tensions between the use of the terms ‘religion’ and ‘theology’ (or philosophy) to describe one’s core research interests, between deism and pantheism (invoking debates on panentheism), between an emphasis on immanence or on transcendence, between (Nicene) ‘orthodoxy’ and ‘heresy’, between faithfulness to one tradition and a more eclectic or pluralistic use of traditions and schools, between being ‘evangelical’ and being ‘progressive’, between particular (narrow group) identities and contested attempts to construct inclusive identities, between a focus on the local or the global, between biocentric, ecocentric or theocentric approaches, between a focus on wilderness or on urban ecology, between a concern for the plight of non-human animals and a concern for the human victims of environmental injustices.

The very identification and description of and an emphasis on such tensions already reveals one’s reading of the terrain. Not all these tensions are therefore necessarily relevant for all the routes and they are negotiated in very different ways. There can be little doubt that many of the heated controversies in Christian ecotheology are related to these very tensions.

Situating this journey in the larger cosmic journey

Many if not most scholars working in the field of ecotheology are attracted to the ways in which the story of humanity is situated in the larger story of the evolution of life on earth and indeed the story of the universe as this may be reconstructed on the basis of contemporary science. This has to do with the scale of the map and thus the felt need for zooming in for a close-up, or for a bird’s eye view or even for a map that is cosmic in scale. Some of us speak of ‘deep’ or geological time to locate the history of the human species (over 200,000 years) and of hominid species over 2 to 3 million years within the evolution of life on earth over close to 4 billion years. Often scholars would derive an ecological moral from this story in order to suggest human humility and also a recognition of the special place of the emergence of consciousness in this story.

Some would wish to go much further by interpreting the metaphysical implications of this story. What is the ultimate meaning of this story? Why are we here? Why is there something and not nothing? What is the significance of our ability to understand something of this story? What categories can we employ to interpret the ‘journey of the universe’? Some are bold to employ the notion of kenosis (self-sacrifice or self-emptying) to speak of the ‘moral nature of the universe’ (George Ellis) since ‘we are made from the ashes of dead stars’. Others employ some form of teleology, hoping to find a sense of cosmic purpose instead of meaninglessness (John Haught). Most are hesitant to speak of the notion of intelligent design since this would so easily fall into creationist traps. Few, though, are able to fathom the significance of the Christian claim that the origins, existence and destiny of this world are in the ‘hands’ of the triune creator.

This at least suggests the need for interpretative frameworks to understand the nature, meaning and significance of the cosmos. Here, the role of world-views has to be recognized. World-views have to do justice with what we otherwise know about the cosmos through science (cosmology). However, world-views also address elusive questions around the ultimate origin and destiny (purpose) of the universe, typically through myths, symbols, rituals and beliefs, whether derived from religious or quasi-religious traditions, philosophies or secular ways of thinking. World-views cannot be derived from a position of faith alone or from science alone; they offer a socially constructed interpretative framework within which we interpret what we know about the world and in which we situate ourselves.

How is ecotheology situated within this larger journey? It is clear that the history of Christianity may be regarded as one rather late development following the emergence of human culture and religion. Religion is part of the history of the human species although the origins of religion remain obscure. The emergence of the human species forms part of the history of hominid species, of the evolution of life on earth, of the earth’s history over 4.6 billion years and of the history of the universe over 13.7 billion years.

However, to describe Christianity as one form of religion alongside others raises many further questions around the relationship between Christianity and other religious traditions. This is indeed highly contested also within the journey of Christian ecotheology. One way of understanding the underlying tensions is to observe the way in which umbrella concepts such as religion, earth, culture, history, cosmos or universe are used. The question is what forms part of what and what implications are derived from that. Put bluntly: to describe Christianity as one religion alongside others would for some compromise Christian claims to ultimacy. Such claims to ultimacy are denied by others precisely by using such umbrella concepts. Some Barthians would hesitate to describe Christianity as one religion alongside others, while others take that for granted. As a result, there remain deep tensions between discourse on ‘religion and ecology’ and on ‘Christian theology and ecology’. This is highly sensitive so that such differences are often underplayed. Such tensions are certainly context specific (with divergent approaches in secular societies and in Asian contexts) and tradition specific (with divergent approaches in evangelical and ‘liberal’ traditions).

Wagers on transcendence

Religious traditions seem to entertain wagers on transcendence. This implies that the story of the universe itself is situated in an even larger framework, namely, with reference to that which transcends the world. The mere use of the word ‘creation’ indicates that. Such wagers on transcendence are not merely speculative. They are born from the need to understand the world in terms of that which transcends the world. That has multiple implications for the ways in which we understand our place within that larger whole. To put this in other words: we as human beings seem unable to restrain ourselves from asking ultimate questions about the origin and destiny of the world, our place within that, what makes the world go round and how we can cope with the demands of life, with pain and suffering, with death, with injustices and evil. There is a striking paradox here: these are questions that we cannot help but ask, that we cannot answer, that we nevertheless have to answer, and where our answers truly matter since we live our lives on the basis of such answers. We live our lives on the basis of wagers.

Obviously this is highly contested and one would not expect consensus among those engaged in ecotheology in this regard. Some would say that these are only wagers, nothing more. Others would suggest that one may put one’s trust in such wagers. They provide one’s ‘only comfort in life and death’. This is a well-known tension between what we think we know and what we don’t know, with a grey area in between since it is also possible to know what it is that we don’t know (yet). It is a tension, if you like, between God’s revelation and God’s incomprehensibility. Where the emphasis is placed is another way of construing the underlying differences between various modes of doing ecotheology. In negotiating this tension some tend to adopt categories like paradox, dialectic or analogy. This is clearly an elusive area where metaphor and symbol are more appropriate than discursive logic or (scientific) description.

Nevertheless, it should be possible to agree on two aspects. First, the apophatic tradition reminds us that ultimately God cannot be known. This suggests the need for humility, for not claiming to know more than what we can. What we say about that which transcends us is necessarily socially constructed. It remains a wager within a cloud of unknowing. As a result, some adopt a form of agnosticism. Second, the ultimate scope of such wagers should not be domesticated. Our notions of Ultimate Mystery are indeed socially constructed but they refer to nothing less than that which is ultimate. The implications of this are contested though: can different views of the ultimate coexist since they would therefore almost by definition no longer be ultimate but penultimate? Can we avoid the introduction of umbrella concepts to express the ultimate and not merely the penultimate?

Theological redescriptions of this larger journey

Christians do not normally speak in such abstract terms about their wagers of transcendence. They employ the specific symbols of the Christian faith in doing so. They ascribe the world in which we live to the triune God and redescribe the history of the world in terms of God’s work of creation, providence, salvation, the formation of the Church and the expected completion of God’s work. The interpretation of such symbols fills whole libraries.

It is indeed remarkable that Christians find it possible to speak in so much detail about that which we cannot know, about that which transcends us. This is only possible through the use of metaphors, symbols and models. Science itself allows for a sense of wonder – that the universe can be understood in the first place (Einstein). This is also due to the exponential increase in the recognition of how little we still know. In a liturgical and sacramental context a rich array of images, icons, myths and metaphors express the inexpressible, a sense of wonder and amazement in the language of praise and worship. Theological language tends to be more sober, sometimes with more conceptual clarity but with less evocative power. Although there are long-standing debates on how the language of faith relates to that of science, there is by now sufficient consensus that one can describe the same reality in different ways to fathom different layers of meaning.

One may identify another underlying tension in contemporary ecotheology with regard to the use of symbols though. This is not merely related to the selection and configuration of such symbols – that typically reflect different ecclesial traditions. Some would tend to reify these symbols, forgetting that we are speaking here about that which transcends us. They thus speak with a sense of certainty about their claims to truth. Others maintain trust in the fruitfulness of the cluster of Christian symbols to address new challenges. Others have lost such trust, employ other symbols, or prefer to speak in more generic terms. They are no longer convinced about the plausibility of such symbols or at least traditional explanations of such symbols. Yet others have become virtually agnostic and do not dare to speak too easily about that which we do not know. One may say that this is the long-standing debate between ‘fundamentalists’ and ‘liberals’, but these terms are so contested that it would be better to simply say that the debate is clearly reflected in different modes of doing ecotheology, as it is in wider theological discourse.

Levels of cooperation

Given the many differences between the discourses that constitute Christian ecotheology, it is important to comment on the possibility of levels of collegiality, affinity and solidarity. One may find different levels of cooperation not only among those engaged in Christian ecotheology but also with many others, for example, environmental activists, scientists, people standing within other religious traditions and those who describe themselves as secular or post-secular. Collaboration is indeed possible at different levels.

First, there are many occasional meeting points where people can at least share common interests and learn from each other. Second, scholars can adopt a common vocabulary that will enable them to understand one another’s language (by becoming bilingual). The connotations attached to such vocabulary will never be exactly the same but we are able to talk to each other on the basis of a miniscule proportion of shared connotations (e.g. we are able to use the word ‘Africa’ even if we come from very different backgrounds and attach very different connotations to the word based on personal experiences). Third, it is possible to work with others in organizations if we have some goals in common. We may have very different reasons why we work together and may explain that in very different ways (using theological rationales). Nevertheless, we can and do work together with people who come from a very different persuasion, for example, in greening projects, schools, businesses, municipalities, campaigns etc. In the process they often discover treasures of wisdom embedded in traditions that are not their own and therefore an openness to learn more. Fourth, this may lead to a better understanding of one’s own tradition and identity but also to hybrid identities. This may also lead to more formal engagements in interreligious dialogue and thus to the exchange of teachings, texts and forms of wisdom. Finally, one may have more in common with others, namely, in terms of how we understand the world and that which transcends it. Within particular schools of thought one can find others who emphasize the same symbols and adopt more-or-less similar interpretations of such symbols.

It is always attractive to find such common ground with others but we can also get along with much less than that. In the diverse field of Christian ecotheology we can learn to collaborate with others without requiring full consensus. People following different journeys, may find rest at the same joint. They may also journey together, at least for a while.

Conclusion

This collective effort to map the journey of doing ecotheology is offered here as a collegial invitation to others to participate in this journey. Developing and reading such maps cannot be an aim in itself; it can only serve to facilitate the journey. The value of such a mapping exercise would lie in the collaborative inquiry and not in developing a definitive map. The focus has to remain on the journey itself. This journey is one in which we need to respond to a looming catastrophe beyond imagination. We may do so with the recognition that we are embedded in a ‘divine milieu’, journeying in the midst of an ineffable mystery in which we have received and may treasure the wondrous gift of life.