The call to a deeper connection with nature was, for me, something
new and unprecedented. For most of my life, I have pursued what many would
consider to be “social justice” or what my religious tradition calls “the works
of mercy.” My paradigm for taking action in the past has been centered firmly
on humanity. I have worked with the homeless, with the poor, and with
immigrants. I have found my solidarity with those who are marginalized by the
dominant society and culture, and much of my work has been about understanding
just what concrete forms that solidarity might take. In turn, I have found that
my spirituality is inevitably colored by this view from “the bottom.”
In the last few years, however, I’ve gotten more involved
with causes and movements that put a strong emphasis on justice from a
whole-earth perspective. This means seeking connection, solidarity and justice
not just for the marginalized humans of the world, but with all living things
and with the very earth itself. Surprisingly enough, this has not required much
of a theological shift for me. In fact, this movement seems like the fulfillment
of a way of seeing that begins by looking at what society deems useless, and
finding transcendence and connection to the eternal in the mundane and
physical. If any Christians find this appalling, I would suggest they examine their
own practice of the Eucharist as a starting point.
It’s no secret that our society finds little to no value in
the elemental “stuff” of nature, beyond what economic value it can provide. The
idea that the earth can contain any form of transcendence is denied outright,
or at best dismissed as mere emotion or sentimentality that cannot compete with
the universal laws of endless growth and expansion. It’s not much of a stretch
to move from the disregard of the value of nature to the disregard of human
value – especially those whose contributions to the almighty economic engine
are minimal. In the meritocracy of utility, only those things (human or
otherwise) that provide maximum gain are given esteem, while the rest are paved
over and shoved to the side.
We see this clearly in modern America with the treatment of
native protesters to the Dakota Access pipeline. The shockingly heavy-handed
response of the government to these protesters, with military-level displays of
force from law enforcement personnel, is no surprise when considering the
statement ultimately being made by the native people. They are saying, in
effect, that the earth has value beyond the resources that can be extracted
from it. They are daring to suggest that it might be better to leave the sacred
ground to its sacredness, and to trust in the very benevolence of the earth
itself to provide as it always has. To the extractive worldview, this way of
thinking is anathema, beyond comprehension. It threatens the very foundations
of utilitarian society and must be stamped out with all of the violence that
the state can bring to bear.
Most everyone knows the words of Jesus in the Beatitudes: “Blessed
are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.” I fear that to a Western,
rationalist worldview these words mean very little. We don’t much value the
meek, and we only value the earth as much as we can take from it. But I think
that the words here call our attention to the very real connection between “the
least of these” and the very earth that we stand on. Maybe these meek – these native
peoples, these poor and oppressed everywhere – remind us how closely our
survival really depends upon the stuff of nature, the simple things that the
earth provides if we pay attention and learn to understand it. The meek are not
filled up with the illusion that more industry and more extraction will make us
great and insulate us from suffering and want. They are no strangers to
suffering and want, but they have seen also that the earth, their inheritance,
will indeed provide if left to pursue its course and treated with the respect
that its sacredness requires.
I have read the passionate pleas of many native folks over
the last few weeks, and can understand the despair and frustration that they
express. I have read accusations that Americans of European descent, like
myself, are a people without roots in the land, and I agree. While the situation
in North Dakota is certainly about national sovereignty and broken treaties, it
is also about a fundamental collision of worldviews. If the land is not sacred
to us, what is to stop us from draining it dry? If we don’t believe that the
land itself has a transcendent value, I have to wonder how we will ever reach a
point of agreement and an end to the conflict. Now is the time to recognize the
worldviews that drive us, to turn to the land and seek to put down those roots,
and to join with those who know its story and listen and stand with them.