Spiritual renewal and the healing of creation

Entering covenant with the Creator

Emboldened by visible signs of Yahweh’s presence, the newly freed Israelites pursued the dream of “a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey” (Ex. 3:8). From nomadic pastoralism, the descendants of Abraham moved toward an economy of small-scale subsistence agriculture. Embedded in the covenant between Yahweh and Israel were provisions for the proper care of the land through the law of the Sabbath Year (Lev. 25:1–7) and special directives for planting and caring for fruit trees (Lev. 19:23–25). Covenant faithfulness toward Yahweh would result in prosperous and harmonious relationships between farmers and the soil. Blessings would rest on the wombs of Hebrew women, the produce of the field, grain, new wine, oil, as well as the calves and lambs (Deut. 7:13). Faithful and loving obedience to Yahweh would ensure the regularity of autumn and spring rains, providing crops for people and grass for the cattle (Deut. 11:14–15).

On the flip side, disregard for the covenant would lead to the same kinds of ecological disasters that the Egyptians had suffered when they refused to liberate the Hebrew people. Leviticus 26 offers two contrasting visions: ecological harmony when the nation is careful to obey God’s commands, and a list of tragic environmental consequences of disobedience. These include terror, wasting diseases, conquest by enemies, lack of rainfall and consequent crop failures, regular attacks by wild animals, and plagues and famines in the cities. Ultimately,

your land shall be a desolation, and your cities a waste. Then the land shall enjoy its sabbath years as long as it lies desolate, while you are in the land of your enemies; then the land shall rest, and enjoy its sabbath years. As long as it lies desolate, it shall have the rest it did not have on your sabbaths when you were living on it. (34–35)

By sending Israel into exile, their ruthless exploitation of the soil would cease, and the land would finally find rest and rejuvenation. Even the act of bringing judgment on a disobedient people offers positive ecological spin-offs for the renewal of the soil upon which they depend for their well-being.

Both the prophetic and poetic literature of the Old Testament establish strong links between the spiritual decay of God’s people and subsequent ecological distress. On the other hand, when the spirit of God renews the people of God, all of creation rejoices and flourishes. This closely linked interplay between the spiritual state of the community and the integrity of creation is most fully developed in the book of Isaiah.

Chaos and healing: the Spirit at work in Isaiah

A pulsating rhythm of judgment and promise, devastation and renewal, forms an undercurrent in this beautiful work of prophetic poetry. Out of the ashes of environmental distress and desertification arise glimpses of ecotopias where humans thrive in a lush, Edenic re-creation of abundant trees, plants, and animals. Fresh on the heels of a caustic rebuke of a proud, arrogant, and unjust class of wealthy people (2:5–4:1) Isaiah sings the promise of a mysterious “branch of the Lord” that shall be “beautiful and glorious” (4:2). While the wicked took pride in their status symbols and displays of jewelry, scarves and perfume boxes, garments and handbags (3:18–23), now, “the fruit of the land shall be the pride and glory of the survivors of Israel” (4:2). Humans will find their greatest joy, not in the work of their own hands, but in the elemental and wholesome sources of nourishment. This will happen as God’s refining spirit washes away the “filth of the daughters of Zion” and cleanses the “bloodstains of Jerusalem” by a “spirit of judgment and burning” (4:4). This is but one of many texts in which the spirit is associated with a cleansing fire that brings about a new beginning for creation, a renewed fecundity of the land.

The branch of healing and renewal

The branch motif appears again in chapter 11, as a sign of renewed life springing up from the stump of Jesse, growing from its roots. “The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord” (11:2). Not only does this spirit-led branch execute justice for the poor and oppressed, but all of creation experiences the benefits of reconciliation and shalom. A vision of harmonious living among the animals emerges, with children herding lions as well as domestic livestock, and infants playing near the nest of snakes (11:6–8). This healing is possible because “the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord as the waters cover the sea” (11:9). The notion of “waters covering the sea” teases one’s imagination for, how can water cover a body of water? Perhaps this is a reference to the Holy Spirit who hovers over the waters and has the task of making God known, revealing God’s will and word to all. The renewal of creation has come full circle; the spirit of God brooded over the waters that covered the earth in the beginning and now fills and embraces the earth once more with God’s life-giving presence.

The fall of empire and the joy of creation

When the downfall of the King of Babylon is celebrated in chapter 14, rejoicing extends to creation itself, breaking into song over its newfound rest and reprieve from exploitation (14:7). Even the trees express glee over the fallen king when they realize that his ruthless program of deforestation has finally ceased: “The cypresses exult over you, the cedars of Lebanon, saying, ‘Since you were laid low, no one comes to cut us down’” (14:8). The empire’s decline in political and economic power brought relief to exploited creation. Similarly, in Western Canada the pace of deforestation moderates when US housing experiences a slow-down or economic growth in China lags. When world oil prices plummet and there is a glut of petroleum, the tailings ponds of Alberta’s oil sands stop expanding and all waterfowl rejoice. The King of Babylon’s lavish building projects had “made the earth like a desert” (14:17) and because he had “destroyed his land” he would be denied a proper burial, and his descendants would be cut off so they might never “rise to possess the earth or cover the face of the world with cities” (14:20). The end of his evil empire meant a curtailment of urban sprawl and creation’s reprieve from the heavy-handed extraction of resources as the powerful ceased from “possessing the earth.” Human pride and arrogance forsake any notion of stewardship of creation, but sees it as something to be exploited and possessed. The balance of God’s judgment is tipped against Babylon, an iconic symbol of a system built on greed and thirst for power that disregards the plight of the poor and the integrity of creation. Isaiah proclaims that Babylon is destined to be brought down and be reclaimed as a habitat for animals: “And I will make it a possession of the hedgehog, and pools of water, and I will sweep it with the broom of destruction, says the LORD of hosts” (14:23).

Languishing and flourishing: a covenantal perspective

Widespread distress upon the earth forms the substance of chapter 24. The interplay between unrighteous living and ecological disaster is at the forefront: the earth suffers devastation and is devoured by a curse (24:6) because of the guilt and covenant-breaking patterns of the people. “The earth dries up and withers, the world languishes and withers; the heavens languish together with the earth. The earth lies polluted under its inhabitants; for they have transgressed laws, violated the statutes, broken the everlasting covenant” (24:4–5). Had the people observed the original terms of their social agreement with Yahweh, such a catastrophe would have been averted. The primary manifestation of distress in the human community is the drying up of the vineyards and the lack of wine, silencing all instrumental music and singing, bringing an utter end to expressions of joy and the banishment of gladness (24:7–11). Human well-being is intrinsically reliant on the integrity of creation. Jonathan Wilson observes,

The languishing and flourishing of the world and the ability of the land to produce the stuff of life is directly connected to the conformity of the world to God’s justice. In other words, God’s justice revealed in the Tanak is the way in which the world becomes God’s creation and sustains life. To the extent that we violate God’s justice the land does not flourish and sustain life. That is, “the land” is not a closed, natural system that operates apart from the relationship between God, the land, and the people. (2013: 82)

Chaos and renewal in creation find a prominent place in chapter 32 as well. Verses 10–14 describe failed crops, dried up vineyards, the soil overtaken by thorns and briers, while the cities are depopulated and overrun with wild animals. Restoration begins in verse 15 when “a spirit from on high is poured out on us, and the wilderness becomes a fruitful field, and the fruitful field is deemed a forest.” The prophet is not simply counting on the forces of nature to recover out of their own innate life-force, but looks to the intervention of the Creator Spirit whose work has always been to bring order and life out of chaos. The “lifegiving divine Spirit rejuvenates the devastated land” (Bauckham, 2010: 116). God’s reign of justice not only brings peace, quietness, trust, security, and rest for the people, but results in fruit-producing orchards so thick that they will be considered forests. Harmony will reign, symbolized by the carefree release of farm animals such as donkeys and oxen, to range freely (32:20). When the people of God experience the outpouring of the spirit so that the fruit of the spirit is evident in their lives, they are participants in a healing that extends to all creation.

Creation shares in the distress of humanity’s violence in chapter 34. War and death afflict people as well as domestic and wild animals (34:6–7). The rivers turn into pitch and the soil becomes sulphurous and burns with pitch (34:9). The air is so tainted by smoke that the region is fit for habitation only by predatory birds and hedgehogs (34:10–11). The scene parallels our contemporary experience of warfare and its toll on the ecosystem. The Gulf War brought months of apocalyptic burning as some 700 Kuwaiti oil wells were ignited by retreating Iraqi troops. Isaiah sees the vegetation reduced to thorns, thistles, and nettles, while goat-demons and “Lilith,” a female mythical demon figure, will inhabit the area. Yet, in the midst of the chaos, “the mouth of the Lord has commanded, and his spirit has gathered” (34:16) owls to “nest and lay and hatch and brood in its [Lilith’s] shadow; there too the buzzards shall gather, each one with its mate” (34:15). Signs of hope and life are springing up even in this most defiled and forsaken corner of creation. The lowly animals are the first to reap the fruit of God’s outpoured spirit.

Chapter 35 unveils a vision of the renewing work of God upon the earth. Streams break forth in the wilderness, transforming deserts into gardens, burning sands into refreshing pools of water. Forests like those of Lebanon and Mt. Carmel spring up in a treeless land. The lowliest of people—the blind, deaf, lame, and the mute—are swept up in the healing force that is being unleashed. The splendor of a revitalized creation replaces the sorrow and sighing of the people with songs and expressions of joy. Bauckham points out the parallelism in this passage between “the glory of Lebanon” and “the majesty of Carmel,” and, on the other hand, “the glory of the LORD” and “the majesty” of our God. He suggests that the prophet likens the splendor of the trees to reflections of God’s glory (2010: 118).

Sennacherib’s assault on creation

The judgment on Babylon is echoed in the oracle in chapter 37, addressing the arrogance of Sennacherib, King of Assyria, who mocked “the Holy One of Israel” (37:23) by his careless mistreatment and deliberate defacing of creation:

By your servants you have mocked the Lord,

and you have said, “With my many chariots

I have gone up the heights of the mountains,

to the far recesses of Lebanon;

I felled its tallest cedars,

its choicest cypresses;

I came to its remotest height,

its densest forest

I dug wells

and drank waters,

I dried up with the sole of my foot

all the streams of Egypt.” (37:24–25)

Sennacherib’s bold assault on creation is described as a military affront to the Creator, a deliberate disregard for God’s handiwork. His greedy actions result in a permanent reshaping of the landscape, bringing negative consequences for everyone affected. Again, we see contemporary parallels in the strip-mining that permanently alters landscapes and fracking of oil shale rock, resulting in groundwater contamination and seismic tremors in regions like northern and central Alberta, where faultiness have never been previously detected. Pope Francis insightfully warns of the human tendency toward “a spirituality which forgets God as all-powerful and Creator.” The ultimate consequence is that “we end up worshipping earthly powers, or ourselves usurping the place of God, even to the point of claiming an unlimited right to trample his creation underfoot” (2015: 75).

A new Eden for a restored people

Second Isaiah (chapters 40–66) presents many more images of spirit-initiated healing and restoration. A weary and captive people forgotten and abandoned by their God (40:27) are comforted with the reminder that “The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth” (40:28). God answers the cry of the poor and needy by declaring an intention to remake the world as they have come to know it:

I will open rivers on the bare heights,

and fountains in the midst of the valleys;

I will make the wilderness a pool of water,

and the dry land springs of water.

I will put in the wilderness the cedar,

the acacia, the myrtle, and the olive;

I will set in the desert the cypress,

the plane and the pine together,

so that all may see and know,

all may consider and understand,

that the hand of the Lord has done this,

the Holy One of Israel has created it. (41:18–20)

Bauckham points out that the cedar and acacia were tall trees, valued for their wood, the olive for its fruit, and the myrtle bush for its aromatic branches. “They make up a composite picture of the wild forests of the ancient Near East springing to glorious life at the touch of their Creator” (2010: 118). The beauty and fecundity of creation point to the power and majesty of God.

God pours the spirit upon the servant so that he can bring justice to the nations (42:1). God’s renewing work is patterned by the original work of creation. God “who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it; who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it” (42:5) declares that “the former things have come to pass” and a new order is about to spring up (42:9). Such an amazing promise could only be followed by the eruption of a new song, composed by people living in distant places as well as the “voices” of roaring seas and deserts (42:10–11). Humans and the rest of creation join in celebration. This “new thing” springs forth like “rivers in the desert” and “water in the wilderness” (43:19) quenching thirst resulting in praise and honor from all creatures:

The wild animals will honour me,

the jackals and the ostriches;

for I give water in the wilderness,

rivers in the desert,

to give drink to my chosen people,

the people whom I formed for myself

so that they might declare my praise. (43:20–21)

Life-giving waters that bless creation are linked with the pouring out of God’s spirit again in chapter 44 as the prophet tenderly proclaims blessings on Israel:

For I will pour water on the thirsty land

and streams on the dry ground;

I will pour my spirit upon your descendants,

and my blessing on your offspring.

They shall spring up like a green tamarisk,

like willows by flowing streams. (44:3–4)

The spiritual awakening Isaiah envisions is expressed through metaphors of soil, water, and sprouting vegetation. His poetic imagery is unmatched, his understanding of salvation is earthy, his language is multisensory: “Shower, O heavens, from above, and let the skies rain down righteousness; let the earth open, that salvation may spring up, and let it cause righteousness to sprout up also; I the Lord have created it” (45:8; cf. 61:11).

Eden’s paradise is the prototype of this restoring work: “For the Lord will comfort Zion; he will comfort all her waste places, and will make her wilderness like Eden, her desert like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the voice of song” (51:3). Yet, before paradise can be restored, Isaiah warns of the vanishing of the heavens “like smoke” and the wearing out of the earth like an old garment (51:6). The promise of Eden sustains believers with hope even while living under the specter of ecological distress.

Reversal of creation’s curse and the toil and suffering caused by thorns and thistles (Gen. 3:17–18) are integral to the glorious future God promises in chapter 55. Rain showers and snow shall water the earth, causing it to “bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater” (55:10). As with the dabar Yahweh (word of the Lord) in the original creation, God’s word will again go forth, accomplishing everything God intends (55:11). The fruit of the spirit, this time in the form of peace and joy, will characterize God’s people and all creation will resound: “the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands” (55:12). A reconciled people will be surrounded by a transformed creation, where “Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress; instead of the brier shall come up a myrtle” (55:13).

Isaiah’s vision reaches culmination in chapter 65 with its detailed portrayal of new heavens and a new earth (65:17). Joy is the dominant tone, both for God and God’s people. Weeping and distress are eliminated, premature deaths are replaced with longevity and peace. Long-term prosperity ensures that people can enjoy the fruit of the trees they have planted (65:18–23). The harsh toil of physical labor, so often unrewarded, will be blessed with abundance, and no woman shall suffer through childbirth only to deliver a stillborn or to lose the baby in infancy (65:23). Physical well-being will be complemented with ready communion with God (65:24). Alienations that once kept grass-feeding animals in fear of predators will dissipate as peace and mutual respect make it possible for them to feed and rest together (65:25). No longer shall anyone “hurt or destroy in all my holy mountain” (65:25). There is probably no more succinct statement in the Bible, addressing the healing of creation and the fulfillment of the missio Dei. It stirs up the imagination to consider the plans God intends for all creation and it whispers hope as we celebrate the beginning of this new order through the life, death, resurrection, and exaltation of Christ, while joining all creation in yearning for its fullness.

This survey of passages points to the strong interrelationship between human shalom and the integrity of creation, between the disorder in human society and the suffering of creation. When humans choose evil, there are widespread negative ecological consequences. When humans reorient their lives toward God there is renewal and joy for all creatures. Howard Snyder aptly entitled his study on the ecology of sin and grace, Salvation Means Creation Healed (2011).

Ecological implications

These biblical texts were directed to people who depended on subsistence agriculture and whose survival was jeopardized by even the most subtle variations of climate. While living in rural Nigeria I witnessed this intense vulnerability each year as people’s stocks of grain depleted while waiting for the rains and a new season of planting and harvesting to come. Livestock became emaciated during the last weeks of dry season as the remaining grasses were consumed. People referred to that season as “hungry time,” when food had to be carefully rationed. Delayed rains, insect plagues or diminished soil quality raised the specter of hardship and hunger.

In the community where I live today, people feel less threatened by abnormal weather patterns or the loss of wetlands, forests, and prime agricultural land. Although agriculture is a huge part of our provincial economy, city dwellers are largely unaware of the condition of crops in the region, as our grocery stores are well stocked with vegetables and fruit trucked in from California and Mexico. Only when occasional torrential rainstorms overwhelm the sewer systems, causing backups and flooding in basements, do urbanites express concern about the changing climate. My city’s water supply is a river fed by glaciers that are melting away at an alarming rate. Where will water come from when the source disappears? Urban sprawl continues to advance unabated, with new housing developments and shopping complexes paving over precious farmland. Food security continues to decline at the expense of short-term profits for developers. Statistics Canada recorded 66,543 acres of farmland surrounding Edmonton in 2006, but, five years later that number had dwindled by 80% to just 13,011 acres (Kemp, 2013: 8).

Oil sand reserves in northern Alberta cover an area of approximately 140,000 km² of boreal forest, equivalent to 25% of the province (the size of France). Two thirds of this land has already been leased to companies for extraction, without prior environmental assessments and 775,500 hectares (almost two million acres) of boreal forest has been cleared or degraded since 2000, an area more than six times the size of New York City (Petersen et al., 2014). Many species are experiencing distress, especially the endangered woodland caribou whose habitat has been fragmented (Canadian Press, 2011). Industrial lakes, referred to as “tailings ponds,” store the residues of bitumen extraction and solvents. These are located in the primary flight paths of migratory birds. Despite cannon booms and radar devices intended to scare waterfowl away, an estimated 200,000 birds land in them annually, some dying as a result of contamination. Researchers have yet to assess the consequences of the spread of contaminants as these birds move on to trees and nests (Stewart, 2016). Jeremiah contrasted the ways birds understand the order of creation with the flagrant disregard among humans: “Even the stork in the heavens knows its times; and the turtledove, swallow and crane observe the time of their coming; but my people do not know the ordinance of the Lord” (Jer. 8:17). Bauckham comments,

Their “not knowing” is willful ignorance; they do not wish to know the moral order of things that God has ordained. Humans are the disorderly factor in the world, disrupting its harmony and its natural rhythms, with destructive consequences both for humans themselves and for other creatures. (2010: 94)

Greed, indifference, and thirst for short-term profits produce behaviors that inflict pain and suffering on the rest of creation. Egocentric choices widen the gap of enmity and alienation between us and the earth. It is only a matter of time that humans will experience the consequences of these actions and their voices will join the groans of creation. We already hear reports of deformed fish in Lake Athabasca and increased cancer rates in northern communities like Fort Chipewyan that are directly linked to oil sands activities (Klinkenberg, 2014). The warning of Hosea sounds eerily contemporary:

Hear the word of the Lord, O people of Israel; for the Lord has an indictment against the inhabitants of the land. There is no faithfulness or loyalty, and no knowledge of God in the land. Therefore the land mourns, and all who live in it languish; together with the wild animals and the birds of the air, even the fish of the sea are perishing. (4:1, 3)

Pope John Paul II quoted these verses on the occasion of the World Day of Peace. As he reflected on global conflicts, he highlighted the enmity between humans and creation and the moral failure which has serious consequences for all of creation: “When man turns his back on the Creator’s plan, he provokes a disorder which has inevitable repercussions on the rest of the created order. If man is not at peace with God, then earth itself cannot be at peace” (1990). The ecological crisis is a moral and spiritual crisis that cannot be addressed without repentance and a change of direction. Bishop Luc Bouchard, whose diocese includes Alberta’s oil sands, issued a pastoral letter identifying “our wasteful consumerist lifestyle, combined with political and industrial short-sightedness and neglect” as the moral roots behind the ongoing damage inflicted on “our air, land, and water” (2009).

We have surveyed biblical passages that link spiritual renewal with the healing of creation. While we await God’s intervention in history to renew the earth, we contribute to the integrity and healing of our world when we truly seek to live out our faith. “Ecological challenges offer us an opportunity to embark once more on the paths of the Gospel. In the biblical sense of the term this is a ‘favourable time’ to strengthen our ties with God by allowing ourselves to be infused with the freshness of the Gospel” (Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops, 2008). Christian spirituality is about living in communion with the spirit of God who transforms our thinking and way of living in ways that anticipate God’s shalom for all creation. As such, we need a fresh outpouring of this spirit upon all people today. The same spirit who sustains and fills all creation with divine presence and holds all creatures in love is at work in human hearts, shaping attitudes in ways that are good for the whole planet. Imagine the positive consequences if people begin to exhibit the fruitful marks of the spirit as they relate to each other and the larger world. If love were to flow out of our hearts toward the Creator, toward one another, toward fellow creatures, and the generations still to come, we would use earth’s resources with frugality and respect. Love for our fellow creatures would guide our food choices, considering the ways crops are grown and animals raised and the pathways by which our food finds its way to our tables. Love for God and others would be extended toward all that the Creator embraces.

When joy reigns, it displaces the sense of discontent that fuels so much of our unnecessary consumption. Joy is a sister to contentment, a virtue that stands in contrast to our economic system that relies on quarterly growth of GDP and ever-increasing consumption. Billions of dollars of advertising urge people to spend and accumulate even at the cost of borrowing and sliding deeper into debt. They do so, primarily driven by the false promise that these things will produce joy. If a spirit-infused joy were to break forth across our world, spending on non-essentials would decline immediately and our market economies would enter a panicky free-fall. While our economies would experience recession, all of creation would benefit as we seek simpler and healthier ways to configure our lives. Spirit-infused joy would set off a chain reaction of joy throughout creation, much like Isaiah describes. Pope Francis invites us to consider the joy of simplicity so evident in the life of the saint after whom he is named:

Christian spirituality proposes a growth marked by moderation and the capacity to be happy with little. It is a return to that simplicity which allows us to stop and appreciate the small things, to be grateful for the opportunities which life affords us, to be spiritually detached from what we possess, and not to succumb to sadness for what we lack. This implies avoiding the dynamic of dominion and the mere accumulation of pleasures. (2015: 222)

Peace breaks in when hostilities cease, conflicts are resolved, and old enmities are replaced with friendship. Much of the earth’s groaning has been caused by wars and conflict. Peacemaking is a work of the spirit that we participate in as citizens of God’s kingdom, and one of the expressions of that work is care for creation.

Let us consider, as well, the ecological implications of bearing all the fruit of the spirit. Faithfulness, gentleness, and kindness address our relationship with creation, each with a slightly different nuance. Self-control is a spiritual quality that goes far beyond the curbing of sexual appetites (often the primary focus of our teaching). We must also grow in our understanding of how the spirit wants self-control to govern “our economic lives, in how we do business, in what we consume and in what we choose not to consume.” Instead of being driven to accumulate and indulge in things that feed our insatiable desires, the spirit teaches us to be content with God’s gifts and live generously “among our fellow creatures” (Moo and White, 2014: 128). After all, the “Spirit who gives life to the creature inhabiting the wetland is the same Spirit who redeems human life” (Studebaker, 2008: 955). The spirit’s work of redeeming humans from sin is aligned with the spirit’s life-giving work toward all creatures; the spirit’s works of creation and Pentecost are one and the same (Studebaker, 2008: 955). When people seek the fullness of the Holy Spirit in their personal lives, it is a practice that benefits the whole earth, as all creation rejoices. Spirit-filled living must inevitably find expression in sensitive care for creation.