For the Salvation of the Cosmos: The Church’s Mission of Ecojustice

Mission clarification

Arguably, some form of creation care has been a Christian concern through the centuries. ⁹ More recently, major Christian denominations have responded to the growing ecological crises. See, for example, the Pan-Orthodox Conference (1986); World Council of Churches’ Fourth World Conference on Mission and Evangelization, San Antonio, TX, USA (1989); ¹⁰ the Evangelical Environment Network and the National Association of Evangelicals, meeting at Sandy Cove, Maryland (2004); and Lausanne III and Edinburgh (2010). ¹¹ For Catholics, beginning with the social teaching of Pope Paul VI, the moral obligation to care for planet Earth has been increasingly emphasized. ¹²

In the Catholic world, Constants in Context: A Theology for Mission Today, a pioneering, magisterial volume by Stephen B. Bevans and Roger P. Schroeder, considered a commitment to the integrity of creation as one of the key components of missiology. Yet, they also acknowledged that the preservation of the integrity of creation had not received much attention in the church’s mission. ¹³ Fortunately, for the most part missiology and the understanding of mission have now, at least theoretically, moved to the understanding that, as the point of departure, God’s mission includes the whole of creation.

In Constants in Context, Bevans and Schroeder acknowledge the influence of David Bosch and the importance of transforming mission, but they also advance the discussion. ¹⁴ They use a multidimensional approach to mission, defining six dimensions of mission as prophetic dialogue (i.e., “essential components of God’s mission in which the church is called to share”): witness and proclamation; liturgy, prayer, and contemplation; justice, peace, and the integrity of creation; interreligious dialogue; inculturation; and reconciliation. ¹⁵

Bevans and Schroeder state that mission witnesses to, proclaims, celebrates, and works for a new way of thinking about and seeing human beings, earth’s creatures, and the created universe itself. Ecological justice entails issues such as a lifestyle that uses fewer of the world’s resources, church support for legislation that enhances the sustainability of the environment, the development of organic farming, and the protection of wildlife areas. These kinds of commitments demand prophetic living, prophetic speech, and prophetic action. The point is that Gospel salvation includes human well-being and the well-being of all of creation. ¹⁶

In Prophetic Dialogue: Reflections on Christian Mission Today, Bevans and Schroeder say that responsibility toward the earth is a crucial part of the church’s mission. ¹⁷ They claim that the Christian ecojustice mission must be the subject of constant discernment and continued scrutiny of the signs of the times and of the context. Issues of public policy, the discoveries of science, and methods of caretaking must be evaluated and practiced in light of the best scholarship, Christian theology, and spiritual wisdom. What does salvation and liberation mean in the context of this time, place, and ecosystem; within this culture; among these people? How does the development of technology support or hinder the “fullness of life” (John 10:10)? What are the occasions of grace and “ecological offences” (sinfulness) that require proclamation or denunciation?

Bevans and Schroeder outline a concept of mission that engages both dialogue (openness to a context, learning from the context, bonding with the context) and prophecy (witnessing to the vitality of the Gospel, as well as to its countercultural nature; commitment to “speaking forth” the Gospel boldly and clearly; and “speaking against” any injustice, oppression, or death-dealing elements in a context). ¹⁸ Bevans holds that the working out of an adequate contextual theology “depends on the context.” ¹⁹ Exactly when mission needs to be “dialogical” or “prophetic” is the result of profound and prayerful discernment. In their understanding of “prophetic dialogue,” prophetic corresponds with the already of the reign of God, and dialogue with the not yet. The already orientation is toward the creation, and prophetic mission calls on the people of God to act as caretakers of God’s creation. Dialogue orientates toward the not yet and brings God’s preferred future into the discussion. Bevans and Schroeder emphasize that an ecological consciousness in mission expands the notion of salvation to include the well-being of all of creation. This commitment to human and cosmic welfare has an eschatological dimension that is both already being realized and yet to reach its fulfillment. ²⁰ The future, also in terms of the integrity of God’s creation, is what we make of it now.

Mission motivation

Following the decisive 2013–14 report of the UN Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change, showing that there is a 95 percent certainty that human behavior has been the dominant cause of global warming since the 1950s, I and my coeditors of Catholic Theological Union’s peer-reviewed journal the New Theology Review published a special issue dealing with this reality and implications for ministry and mission in the Catholic Church. We included a column by two professional catechetical ministers who analyzed the status of Catholic catechesis on the “care of creation.” The column was well researched, and its content revealed a disheartening reality. The evidence of any attention to this aspect of the church’s mission showed it was all but absent in the then-standard magisterial directives and parochial curricula. ²¹ Furthermore, the following testimony was absolutely stunning:

One evening catechetical session explored the meaning of the Catholic social teaching theme of care of creation. The lesson explored the theme’s meaning and included watching a section of Al Gore’s documentary An Inconvenient Truth. Each participant then went to a computer lab to calculate his/her carbon footprint. Finally the lesson provided space for prayer and reflection on the moral implications of our care (or lack of care) for the environment.

A few days after this catechetical session, the YTM [Youth in Theology and Ministry] community celebrated the Sacrament of Reconciliation. In my personal examination of conscience I (Jeff) recalled the carbon footprint calculation I had done during the evening session described above. I had discovered that my personal carbon footprint was double the US average and ten times the world’s average. I was convicted that my use of carbon was sinful. I went to individual confession and confessed this sin saying to the priest: “I recognize that my personal use of the world’s resources is sinful in its impact on creation. My sin is that my personal carbon imprint is ten times greater than the average human being. I am sorry and seek to change my carbon footprint on the environment.” The look on the priest’s face was precious. It was one of complete confusion. He muttered something like, “I don’t really think this is a sin. I’ve never heard anyone ever confess this as sinful.” ²²

Granted, this scenario took place some five years ago (before the promulgation of LS). Now, though some movement in the ecojustice mission (linking the moral and religious dimensions of engagement with earth care) has taken place, the level of involvement is minimal and perilously slow, especially in the US scene.

If indeed ecojustice is part of the church’s mission, then the church requires personnel who can integrate Christian theology and ethics with the necessary scientific and technical expertise, in order to recognize the salvific implications of a given reality, concerning the care for the environment in their particular region of the world (see LS §64). The absence of these capabilities will detract from the legitimacy and credibility of the missionary dimension of ecojustice. We would never think of sending unqualified physicians or nurses to service medical mission facilities in the midst of a cholera epidemic. Yet, we seem to be satisfied with a lesser competence in addressing the possible demise of life on planet Earth as we’ve known it, for we ignore the daily results of our cumulative inaction flashing across our various media screens.

It is essential that curricula of Christian seminaries and schools of theology support this mission, offering necessary training and knowledge for basic science literacy and intercultural dialogue; comprehension of positive social, political, and economic impacts of environmental interventions; and strategies for challenging unjust and harmful policies and practices. Changing people’s relationship to the land is both a deeply spiritual and a practical form of intervention into traditional worldviews. Ecojustice ministers must always discern with others the right course of action for the common good of humans and others. Current indicators are that we still have far to go to make the ecological justice mission of the church fully credible. At present, for example, it still appears that training for the ecojustice mission is considered a nice “elective” in most North American seminaries and schools of theology. ²³

Recent studies indicate that the knowledge and skills necessary for Christians contributing to the ecojustice mission are both practical and theological. Studies from the parish or congregational perspective report that the beginning question is basic: “Why is climate change relevant to Christian faith?” The very complexity involved in responding to such a question can be overwhelming unless ministers have sufficient knowledge, experience, and fundamental confidence in the Catholic intellectual tradition that acknowledges that faith and science are not opposed to each other, but rather both seek the fullness of truth. ²⁴ That said, there is great wisdom in not starting to engage the ecojustice mission at the theoretical level. Rather, the point here is that, in concert with the Catholic intellectual tradition, the overwhelming scientific consensus must be accepted, just as we accept the authority of doctors, physical therapists, and GPS systems in our cars. The challenge for ecojustice missioners is to credibly link the state of planet Earth with the resulting oppression of the entire creation, with religious teachings and symbols. To fail to do that today is to risk Christianity’s relevance as a moral force in society.

“Environmental spirituality among diverse American faith-based environmentalists includes basic scientific literacy; a commitment to social justice; a deep awareness of global interdependence; and faith in a ‘bigger God,’ who, is concerned for all the communities of life.” ²⁵ The immediate popularity of LS and Pope Francis certainly indicates a fundamental resonance of many Christians with these notions. Yet, the question remains, given virtually every faith tradition’s stated obligation to care for God’s creation: How can Christians be effectively inspired to live out their own environmental faith missions? What are the keys to the “prophetic dialogue” to productive discussion in faith communities?

A helpful study by Erin Lothes Biviano examines five key effects of group dynamics in three sections. ²⁶ First, she shows how discussion engages the minds and hearts of members of faith communities by (1) renegotiating worldviews through the creation of new doctrinal syntheses and (2) integrating experiences in nature with spirituality. In elaborating the ecojustice mission, it is vital for parishioners to experience their faith community as a free and open space of honest questioning and exploration of difficult questions with similarly committed people. Such an atmosphere provides a safe space for renegotiating understanding of dimensions of personal and communal beliefs—such as a deeper understanding of a Scripture text or a more expansive view of a doctrine—now seen as concerning ecotheological and ethical questions. Those already attuned to enjoying the beauty and wonder of the natural world often fail to connect their peaceful and pleasant enjoyment as spiritual gifts or manifestations of God’s love and providence. The ecojustice mission is advanced when Christians more explicitly link creation with the Creator.

Then, building on minds and hearts attuned to climate change, discussion within faith communities further deepens and expands values by (3) reinforcing shared commitments to social justice and (4) expanding the definition of social justice to embrace creation care. The support of a group, experiences of values clarification around difficult environmental questions, and then formation of a solid group identity based on shared commitments to act justly enhances the growth, quality, and longevity of faith-based environmental activism. Biviano offers the example of a man who had sported the Jesus fish symbol on his car. Out of necessity he bought an SUV for his hauling business. ²⁷ However, after he participated in his parish group working to achieve zero emissions, he experienced cognitive dissonance and feelings of hypocrisy about putting the Jesus fish symbol on the SUV. Instead, he put it on his bicycle (and continued to discern what to do about the SUV)!

As groups explore religious norms around social justice, it is readily possible to make connections with issues of environmental degradation or the need for environmental protections. The most common starting point is to see that those most economically vulnerable and at the margins of society are also those most viciously threatened by the effects of pollution and climate change. Citing Paul Djupe and Patrick Hunt, Biviano points out, “Congregations explicitly encourage ethical reflection and moral action; one of their main functions is to share ethical norms. Through the process sociologists call ‘normative diffusion,’ members observe others’ behavioral cues while developing their own opinions. As a result, sustainable ideals within worldviews take on new importance and meaning.” ²⁸

Finally, faith-based environmentalists are further empowered by (5) the unifying power of worship and celebration and the ability of communal action to leverage the leadership of pioneers. Where language presented only in cognitive terms fails to resonate, signs, symbols, and the liturgical arts speak more deeply. Bringing together familiar Scripture texts, music, and rituals—though with a renewed emphasis on the ecojustice mission—has a strong and unifying potential to further that mission. But even in liturgy the official church needs to review what assists or detracts from the ecojustice mission. For example, where Psalm 148 is a Responsorial Psalm in the Roman Catholic liturgy, the text provided excludes verses 7–10, which call for the praise of God from twelve distinct creatures, but jumps from mentioning the moon (v. 3) directly to people (v. 11)! Biviano concludes: “The crises of justice and peace, poverty and inequality, are now inextricably linked to ecological degradation, urging Christians to re-imagine core symbols and renew our covenant with the earth. Guided by the Spirit who renews the face of the Earth, faith communities can share a journey of conversion to a profoundly renewed Christian mission today.” ²⁹

Mission correction

Throughout this article the ecojustice mission is acknowledged as essential to the church’s message of liberation and salvation. Yet, Elizabeth A. Johnson observes:

Not content with harming our own species, human sin spills over into the natural world, ravaging habitats and destroying other species for personal or corporate gain. We profoundly need divine forgiveness. Out of the depth we cry for salvation.

Yet, over the centuries Western theology’s focus on sin became so intense that the wideness of God’s saving mercy throughout the whole created world was by and large overlooked. Any connection between the cross of Christ and cosmic redemption came to seem esoteric. As a result, the natural world was ignored in doctrine, liturgical prayer, and ethical practice. It is hard to take cosmic redemption seriously if redemption is only about forgiveness of human sin. ³⁰

Johnson traces the origin of the nearly exclusive Western theological focus on personal sin to the eleventh-century theologian Anselm of Canterbury and his 1098 treatise Cur Deus Homo (Why God became human). There he developed a theory of satisfaction, or appeasement, asserting that Jesus’s death paid a debt back to God, a debt that humanity accrued for tarnishing God’s honor through sinning. Thus, the flow of Christ’s blood restored the flow of divine mercy to humankind. While acknowledging the particular valid aspects of this theory within its context (14–15), Johnson respectfully argues that it is quite inadequate today on at least seven counts.

First, it provides a “disastrous image of God,” sadistic with concern for his own honor, lacking in full freedom and power to initiate loving action (John Duns Scotus; 15). We are left with a morally repulsive image of God. Second, Anselm’s theory “fails in view of the New Testament’s view of salvation” because it fails to include benefits of Christ’s resurrection (16). This is an absence that has dire implications for today insofar as it neglects the important juncture where “divine Love who created the universe now acted to create a new future for the unjustly executed” (18). Third, Anselm failed to deal with the ministry of Jesus that actively illuminates numerous pathways providing “foretastes of salvation” (19). The positive relationships with God, neighbors, friends, family, the earth, and all creatures find no place in his theory. The role of active discipleship in communal enrichment and liberative actions is absent as well.

Fourth, the appeasement theory tends to “sacralize violence” (20). It raises the question: If God used violence, why shouldn’t we? In today’s world, as Pope Francis rightly teaches, Jesus’s example of healing, mercy, and peace-building are liberative ways that save. Contrary to promoting the joy of the Gospel, Anselm leaves us with a “morbid spirituality” (21). Instead, fifth, Anselm highlights the value of suffering—including unjust suffering—to an extent that blesses it going unchallenged, with the hope that things will be better in heaven. Suffering linked to Jesus’s obedience, without regard for his freedom to love, also eclipses human freedom and dignity. Sixth, citing Edward Schillebeeckx, Johnson holds that Anselm’s theory introduces “an ethic of submission in the face of injustice” (22). She notes that the cross as a free-standing event taken out of the context of the entire Gospel raises the notion of unjust suffering as a way for humans to avenge God’s honor for their own benefit, rather than a price paid by Jesus for his fidelity to his mission. As liberationists and feminists have asserted, the cross was thus “tamed” as a critique against injustice. Finally, Anselm never addressed God’s salvific presence in creation but omits it entirely from his appeasement theory—“ecological silence” (26–27). The Noachian covenant, which included “all creatures of flesh on earth,” remains hidden.

If we are to attend to the ecojustice mission in a legitimate and credible manner, it is necessary to link the cross of Jesus Christ to the whole community of life evolving on planet Earth. Humans, as imago Dei, are distinctive, yet historically embedded, biologically informed, and functional within the broader community of life. Johnson thus raises the critical question for the achievement of the ecojustice mission (which Pope Francis also explores): “How can the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ be understood as good news for the whole created world, including human beings, to the praise of God and to practical and critical effect?” (29).

Johnson notes that “the New Testament has no logically articulated theory of salvation. No one composed a systematic explanation of how the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, let alone the cross taken by itself, redeemed the world” (118). However, she outlines an exquisite “theology of accompaniment” that will support planetary solidarity and work for ecojustice, while rejecting anthropocentrism (xiii). This theology calls for Christian conversion to affirming God’s presence in and love for all creation, which she holds as the force driving Christian intervention in the planetary ecojustice mission. The limits of this article prevent a thorough consideration of the biblical and theological supports she brings to bear for this deeply incarnational account. Only some summary statements are offered in the hope of enticing readers to examine Johnson’s full text.

Johnson begins her formative reflection in the second chapter, “The Creating God Who Saves.” A theology of God is derived primarily from Second Isaiah, the exodus event, and the Psalms, showing that her “theology of accompaniment” is in continuity with the testimony about the God of Israel in Hebrew Scriptures. In the next chapter, she refines the theology of accompaniment in light of the early Christian response to the Christ event. Bringing this topic together with the First Testament witnesses, Johnson’s theology of God’s presence is marked by a double solidarity: first, the solidarity of Jesus with human suffering; and second, the solidarity of God with Jesus, acting to resurrect and vindicate him. In this theology, though divine absence may be felt, “God does not abandon” (110).

Johnson then masterfully explains the necessarily metaphoric nature of language for salvation, the harm that literalizing metaphors can cause, and the vital need for creative images derived from contemporary contexts. Drawing on the New Testament, Johnson gives an overview of the diversity of metaphors for salvation present throughout, locating each in the specificity of its cultural context.

The chapter “God of All Flesh: Deep Incarnation,” extends the notion of God’s solidarity and presence to the entire creation through the incarnation. Citing the work of Niels Henrik Gregersen, she investigates the meaning of “flesh” and the distinctions between finitude and sin. Citing Genesis 9:16–17, she emphasizes that the Noachian covenant is made with “all flesh that is on earth” (165). A Wisdom Christology supports Johnson’s argument that the resurrection “pledges a future for all the dead, not only the dead of the human species but of all species” (190).

The sixth and last chapter concludes by offering five thought experiments to promote Christian conversion to this inclusive, creation-centered understanding. The theology of accompaniment places sin and forgiveness within the cosmic frame of divine loving presence with and care for all of creation.

Johnson’s thought experiments utilize her accompaniment theology in a practical manner that also employs our senses, intuitions, and emotions—the deepest ways of knowing—which enables us to become inspired and empowered. Here again, only a sampling is possible. Foundational to this conversation is the “spirit of the burning bush,” which reflects the expression of God when speaking to Moses (196–97). Like God, who sees, hears, and knows the suffering of Israel, we too must “feel intimately united with all that exists (also exemplified by St. Francis of Assisi)” (LS §11).

Thought experiment 1: “Blue Marble—the community of creation” (199–203). Here Johnson invites us to meditate on planet Earth as seen from the moon, observing the vast variety and intricacies of creation, from blue whales to water and air—the whole biosphere, the community of creation. She invites each of us to place ourselves within this community as an indigenous member. Then she recalls the threefold, comprehensive doctrine of creation: All comes from one gracious, loving God; every creature with its relationships is held in existence by the same vivifying Giver of life; and in the end all will be gathered into the new heavens and the new earth. (Biblical supports referenced here include Deut. 32:18; Pss. 24:1; 146:6–7; Rev. 5:13; Job 12: 7–10.) As Pope Francis reminds us: “Cultural limitations in different eras often affected the perception of these ethical and spiritual treasures, yet by constantly returning to their sources, religions will be better equipped to respond to today’s needs” (LS §200).

Thought experiment 2: “From pyramid to circle” (203–8). Traditionally, the pyramid symbolizes a hierarchical—often oppressive—kind of rule or authority. Past understandings of Christian anthropology held that the human person is far superior to any other creature of God’s creation, and could therefore deal with other creatures of creation for primarily, if not only, for their own benefit. Such ways of dealing with creation sorely disregard the meaning of the biblical text. In fact, the more accurate reading of Genesis 1:28 is that the human is to be a guardian and caretaker of creation. This role would then make the power relationship between humans and the rest of creation more egalitarian, and thus better symbolized by a circle. The Christian’s conversion must be to stand among God’s creatures and share God’s creation in a manner that cares for others, as well as human needs.

We are thus now invited to correct the mistaken interpretations of the biblical term “dominion” (Gen. 1:28), which became the basis for rationalizing planetary degradation in the name of a divine mandate. After exposing current corrective interpretations by biblical scholars, Johnson draws our attention to LS §67:

We are not God. The earth was here before us and it has been given to us. . . . That Judeo-Christian thinking, on the basis of the Genesis account which grants man “dominion” over the earth (cf. Gen 1:28), has encouraged the unbridled exploitation of nature by painting him as domineering and destructive by nature. This is not a correct interpretation of the Bible as understood by the Church. . . . “Tilling” refers to cultivating, ploughing or working, while “keeping” means caring, protecting, overseeing and preserving. This implies a relationship of mutual responsibility between human beings and nature. Each community can take from the bounty of the earth whatever it needs for subsistence, but it also has the duty to protect the earth and to ensure its fruitfulness for coming generations. “The earth is the Lord’s” (Ps 24:1); to him belongs “the earth with all that is within it” (Dt 10:14). Thus God rejects every claim to absolute ownership: “The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine; for you are strangers and sojourners with me” (Lev 25:23).

Johnson offers a helpful illustration from the Cosmic Pathway exhibit at the American Museum of Natural History in New York City. There, the “Big Bang” is positioned at the ceiling high above, followed by markers representing some 13 billion plus years of the evolution of the universe spiraling downward. At the lower floor of the exhibit, human existence is marked by “a line as thin as a human hair” (207). Indeed our best human self-image is as kin to all of God’s creation!

Thought experiment 3: “A value of their own in God’s eyes” (LS §69) (208–11). Here Johnson notes the powerful statements throughout Laudato Si’ that explain the kinship relations of the human with other creatures in God’s creation. Each statement is rich food for thought and meditation. She cites LS §§19, 42, 67, 69, 76–77, 80, 83, 88–89, and 140. If we really absorbed the Christian value of the kinship of creation and the value of each creature, the occasion of environmental degradation would be like a death in the family. Loss of a loved one is also a loss of part of oneself!

Thought experiment 4: “You save humans and animals alike” (Ps. 36:6) (211–16). “Imagine the birds and the bees with their own relationship to the creating merciful God, interacting in mutual relation” (211). Thus, Johnson draws us into the world beyond ourselves to see the loving merciful Creator in relationship with our fellow creatures. If this is how God acts, how dare we do otherwise? Here the lessons from the beasts are profound and deeply challenging. See Job 38–39; Psalms 19:1–4; 36:6; 50:10–11; 145:10; 147:3–4; 148:7–10; Hosea 4:3; Isaiah 35:1–2; 44:23; 65:17–25; Baruch 3:34; Jonah 4:10–16. Indeed, “God is good to all, and compassionate over all that has been made” (Ps. 145:9).

Thought experiment 5: “Expanding the heart: us” (216–21). Finally, Johnson invites readers to “Try to expand the boundaries of the community of ‘us’ when you think, speak, teach, preach, read, or propose actions in order to include the rest of creation” (216). Naturally, proper textual exegesis is presumed, but Psalm 67 illustrates Johnson’s point. Other texts she recommends are Psalms 33:22; 123:3–4; and 126:3. As Thomas Aquinas explained in a helpful maxim, “Each creature receives and responds to the love of God according to its own nature” (219). New Testament texts add greater depth when considered as Johnson suggests. See Matthew 1:23; John 1:14 (flesh = sarx); Acts 17:27–28; Romans 8:35–39; 1 Corinthians 6:14; and Ephesians 2:7. Indeed, even as St. Francis preached to the birds ³¹ and chanted his Office with their songs, ³² Pope Francis concludes Laudato Si’ with the exhortation: “Let us sing as we go. May our struggles and our concern for this planet never take away the joy of our hope” (§244). With Johnson and Rhodora Beaton I would add, May our voices join the duets of gibbons, dances of parrots, or calls of the whales (221).

Conclusion

“Mission correction” requires first, conscientization, but then substantial conversion of heart, as well as mind. The rich and powerful churches of the world have spent far too long probing only the written texts, while neglecting the “Book of Creation” (St. Augustine) or “asking of the beasts” (Job 12:7). Humans, with their own particular capacities and ways of bearing the imago Dei, not only need to reread theological and biblical texts to recover knowledge of their common bonds with creaturely sisters and brothers of all kinds, but they must also come to know the natural world in all its God-revealing splendor. For indeed, what we do not know, we cannot love. What we do not love, we will not defend. Today, to not protect God’s creation is to fail ourselves and God, since we are God’s creation!

A story is told of the US naturalist John Muir once coming across a dead bear. Deeply moved, he reflected on the wondrous dignity of that creature. That animal was warm blooded, with a heart that functioned like his own; it enjoyed the sun’s warmth and feasted on each season’s banquet of fresh berries. But Muir later protested bitterly, saying that people calling themselves religious had no place in their faith for such noble creatures; they acted as though heavens doors were open to humans only! Muir later concluded his final journal entry with these sobering and prophetic words: “God’s charity is broad enough for bears!” (28). To this, let the church say, “Amen!”