Tag Archives: creation story

Preaching on Creation: Sunday June 12-18 in Year A (Mundahl)

A Community to Serve the Whole Earth Tom Mundahl reflects on support, endurance, and hope for the challenges we face.

Care for Creation Commentary on the Common LectionaryĀ 

Readings for Sunday June 12-18, Year A (2020, 2023)

Exodus 19:2-8a
Psalm 100
Romans 5:1-8
Matthew 9:35-10:8

The arrival of the novel coronavirus has shaken our culture to the foundations. In a matter of a few months, trust in endless economic expansion and progress has all but disappeared. The vaunted American medical system — the ā€œbest in the worldā€ — has been unmasked as a disorganized boutiqueĀ  set of arrangements designed to treat illness among the economically advantaged, not a resilient institution designed to provide public health for all. And the food system with its deadly and exploitative meat processing plants has not only sickened its workers and failed those in animal husbandry; it has led to search for new models.Ā  No wonder we hear discussions of ā€œthe collapse complex societiesā€ and how to live through a ā€œlong emergency.ā€

This is all reminiscent of the Epilogue of Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, where the now-convicted murderer, Raskolnikov, as he begins his seven years of hard labor in Siberia, dreams that a pandemic plague had killed nearly all humans, leaving those remaining badly shaken. ā€œHere and there people would band together, agree among themselves to do something, swear never to part — but immediately begin something completely different from what they had just suggested, begin accusing one another and fighting….ā€ (New York, Vintage, 1992, Pevear and Volokhonsky, trans., p. 547).

Among the multitude of dangers described by the author and mirrored in our current situation is the shredding of all that binds community.Ā  This week’s readings focus on just that question.Ā  In the face of threats to disintegration: what is the purpose of the faith community and what holds it together?

Too often creation accounts have been dismissed as mere stage scenery providing the setting for what really matters, the historical drama of the Exodus.Ā  Close attention to the Book of Exodus, however, shows how closely creation and liberation from Egypt’s oppression are connected. As Terence Fretheim suggests, ā€œThe deliverance of Israel is ultimately for the sake of all creationā€ (Exodus, Louisville: John Knox, 1990, p. 13). In fact, the harrowing narrative of crossing the sea on ā€œdry landā€ points directly to Genesis 1:9-10 with its separation of water and dry land.

In fact, what happens at Sinai can only be understood as an affirmation of the goodness of creation, in sharp contrast with Pharoah’s death-dealing use of the Hebrew slaves as mere instruments of production. This suggests that the Sinai Covenant assumes both the coherence of creation’s interdependence and the Abrahamic Covenant (Genesis 12 and 17). What’s more, any new Torah is preceded by a reminder of gracious dealing: ā€œYou have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myselfā€ (Exodus 19:4). Just as a mother eagle both prods eaglets to try their wings, rescuing the chick when flight fails, so the Creator may be trusted.

Again, the basis of this echo of the Abrahamic promises, ā€œyou shall be my treasured possession among all peoples,ā€ is anchored by creation: ā€œindeed, the whole earth is mineā€ (Exodus 19:5). But this election is rooted in generous purpose. ā€œYou shall be for me a priestly kingdom and a holy nationā€ ( Exodus 19:6). While the notion of ā€œpriesthoodā€ may seem alien to us, it is central to biblical thinking, especially the tradition that the Jerusalem temple is where heaven and earth meet.

More helpful today is the Orthodox view where the role of the priest is to lead worshipers in ā€œlifting up our heartsā€ to God so that the earth can be transfigured.Ā  As Norman Wirzba writes, ā€œWhen in priestly motion we lift our hearts to God, what we are really doing is giving ourselvesĀ and the whole world to the new creation…so that our interdependent need can be appreciated as a blessing (another priestly function)ā€ (Food and Faith: A Theology of Eating, 2nd ed., Cambridge, 2019, p. 264).Ā  As all creation is lifted up, persons may no longer can be seen as mere ā€œmachine partsā€ and the fruits of creation become gifts, not commodities. So even before the Torah is given, we see that ā€œIsrael is commissioned to be God’s people on behalf of the earth which is God’sā€ (Fretheim, p. 212).

Just as all creation is ā€œlifted upā€ in priestly service, so humankind recognizes that we join the community of all creation in continuous worship. Psalm 100 makes this clear, for as the place of worship is entered, praise is unison.

Make a joyful noise to the LORD, all the earth.
Worship the LORD with gladness;
come into his presence with singing (Psalm 100:1-2).

Here the psalmist reminds us that there can be no worship apart from the sabbath community of interdependent creatures whose highest priestly function is never-ending praise (James L.Ā Mays, Psalms, Louisville: John Knox, 1994, p. 319). This is exactly what happens when the Apostles’ or Nicene Creeds with their creation affirmations are professed.Ā  We commit ourselves as a community to perform in earth care exactly what we confess.

Initially it may seem that nothing could be further from the notion of priestly service than a gospel reading detailing healing and the sending of disciples. But when we recognize the ā€œcompassionā€ Jesus views the crowds with, we see nothing more than a slightly different form of ā€œlifting up.ā€ Those elevated are ā€œharassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherdā€ (Matthew 9:36). These are personal problems, to be sure, but also afflictions that cannot be separated from the corruption of the religious elite, the ā€œso-called shepherds,ā€and Roman oppression of Judea (Warren Carter, Matthew at the Margins, Orbis, 2000, p. 230).

Jesus reframes this as kairos, a time full of opportunity–ā€the harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are fewā€ (Matthew 9:37). Without a doubt, there is an element of judgment here that cannot be avoided, judgment of the false shepherds and Roman oppressors. But ā€œharvestā€ is hardly a time for grim judgment alone; it is a time of nourishment and celebration of a new and different kind of empire.Ā  In a commissioning that foreshadows the final sending (Matthew 28:19-20), the named apostles are empowered to heal and spread the news of the new ā€œimperial order.ā€Ā  It may seem odd that Matthew’s Jesus limits the mission to Israel. But they are the very ones foundering ā€œlike sheep without a shepherd.ā€ Beyond that, as we recall from the First Lesson, Israel is the people called to be a blessing to all the earth, the instrument channeling hope to the nations and the whole creation.

The spirit with which Jesus sends the disciples to participate in this harvest festival of care, is further evidenced by the ā€œeasy yoke and light burdenā€ Jesus describes (Matthew 11:29-30). Following the seemingly weighty instructionĀ  to ā€œCure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons,ā€ Jesus reminds the Twelve, ā€œYou received without payment; give without paymentā€ (Matthew 10:8). This new community spawned by compassion, runs on a gift economy. Ā Just as ā€œthe sun rises on the evil and on the goodā€ (Matthew 5:45), so no one earns the benefits of this new creation. For it is as productive as the mysterious seeds which yield ā€some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirtyā€ (Matthew 13:8), and as generous as the vineyard owner who pays a full days’ wages for one hour of work (Matthew 20:1-16).

Another way of describing living out this harvest festival we celebrate and share, the one we have been welcomed to ā€œwithout paymentā€ (Matthew 10:8) is ā€œpeace with Godā€ (Romans 5:1). Too often, while reading Paul–especially Romans–we forget that he is writing about the same realities that occupy our other readings. ā€œPeace with God,ā€ then, is no pale abstraction. It is a result of having been ā€œmade rightā€ with GodĀ  and is the active participation in the interdependence and care necessary to maintain the ā€œpeace–shalomā€ intended for all.

Just because believers are welcomed into this community graciously through baptism into the cross and resurrection (Romans 6:1-6) and live this out in worship, learning, and care for creation, does not mean that they will be applauded by the dominant culture. Because this culture tends to idolize competitive struggle for wealth with little or no regard for the fate of ā€œthe losers,ā€ opposition is guaranteed.Ā  When sisters and brothers live out their calling to join Native American ā€œwater protectorsā€ in protesting building an oil pipeline through the Missouri River, they are classified as domestic terrorists. When teenagers of faith follow the lead of Greta Thunberg and commit to the ā€œschool strikeā€ to change views and behavior toward the climate crisis, many adults still believe they should ā€œnot waste their time, but stick to their studies.”

No wonder Paul responds to the inevitable opposition of those who find their security in wealth, power, and success with the logic of the cross: ā€œwe also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint usā€ (Romans 5:3-5a). Despite how successful our efforts to build ecojustice appear, this endurance –another gift–has its source in openness to God’s trustworthy future, a new creation (Ernst Kasemann, Romans, Eerdmans, 1980, p. 135).

As we began this essay, we looked at what to all of us just six months ago would have seemed only a nightmare illuminating the troubled psyche of one Rodion Raskolnikov.Ā  As violent as thisĀ  dream was, we could hardly have imagined that we would find ourselves in what may be a multi-year pandemic. But we still can learn from this rich, but troubling novel. For as this young Siberian exile recovers, taking a break from producing gypsum he looks across a river and sees the black specks of the yurts of the nomads of the steppe. ā€œThere was freedom, there a different people lived, quite unlike those here, there time itself seemed to stop, as if the centuries of Abraham and his flocks had not passed awayā€ (Crime and Punishment, p. 549).

What was Raskolnikov seeing?Ā  Community. Real community based not on the fevered longingsĀ  for personal greatness, but on a deep promise, a promise that enables him to hold the hand of his friend, Sonya, for the first time with assured fidelity.Ā  Although we will depend on the best science to focus on the global problems of Covid-19 and the climate crisis, we equally will need resilient and dependable communities to provide support, endurance and hope.Ā  This week’s readings assure us that this is a gift God’s people can provide.

Originally written by Tom Mundahl in 2020.
tmundahl@gmail.com

Holy Trinity Sunday in Year A (Mundahl)

Survival Is Insufficient Tom Mundahl reflects on the Trinitarian model of “making room.”

Care for Creation Commentary on the Common LectionaryĀ 

Readings for The Holy Trinity, Year A (2020, 2023)

Genesis 1:1 – 2:4a
Psalm 8
2 Corinthians 13:11-13
Matthew 28:16-20

This week the church begins the season known as Ordinary Time.Ā  But there is little ordinary about what we have experienced in 2020. The outbreak of the Coronavirus Pandemic has not only ravaged much of the world; it has prompted questions about the effectiveness of medical systems, distributive justice, and the resilience ofĀ  economies grasping for endless growth.

What’s more, at a time when necessary social-distancing policies make physical gathering for worship impossible, questions emerge about the reliability of creation, or even the faithfulness of God. It is tempting for individuals and congregations to limit the horizon of hope to mere survival. Emily St. John Mandel warns us of aiming that low in her post-pandemic novel, Station Eleven. Set in a world where barely 1% of humankind remains, the narrative revolves around the Traveling Symphony, a company of itinerant actors and musicians who move in horse-drawn wagons from one settlement to another. Painted on the front of each wagon is their credo, ā€œSurvival is Insufficientā€ (New York: Vintage Books, 2015, p. 119). For the resurrection community, that is a minimal standard.

The creation account which constitutes our First Reading aims much higher than ā€œsurvival mode.ā€ Written in response to the Exile, this liturgical poem provides hope to those who have wondered whether the violent Babylonian ā€œgodsā€ behind the enslavement of Judah might be more powerful than the one who who had formed their very identity (Walter Brueggemann, Genesis, (Atlanta: John Knox, 1982), pp. 25,29). Designed for public worship, this ordered litany assures its hearers that not only is creation a realm of peaceful fruitfulness; it is ā€œvery goodā€(Genesis 1:31). In a time of questioning much like our own, this provided pastoral assurance to those whose world had fallen apart. They could rely on the one whose very speech brought all things into being.

But the author does not leave it there. By repeating the phrase, ā€œAnd God saw that it was goodā€ (Genesis 1: 4,10,12,18,21,25,31), hearers are invited to see and care for the earth as the creator would. Ellen Davis reminds us, ā€œContemplation and action are not separate strategies, nor is the latter a corrective to the former. They are part of a single complex process: accurate perception leading to metanoia….’To change one’s mind is to change the way one works,’ says Wendell Berryā€ (Ellen Davis, Scripture, Culture, and Agriculture, Cambridge, 2009, p. 47).

This provides a clue to the mysterious phrase: ā€œSo God created humankind in his image….ā€(Genesis 1:27).Ā  May it not be that to ā€œimage Godā€ is precisely to see the goodness of creation through the eyes of the creator. This seems to be a necessary qualification for having ā€œdominionā€ (Genesis 1:28). This notion is supported with the word choice made immediately following this grant of responsibility. While the NRSV translates ā€œseeā€ (Genesis 1:29), far stronger is the RSV/KJV ā€œbehold.ā€ To ā€œbeholdā€ the gift of plants, trees, and beasts implies a way of reflective, almost prayerful, vision that prevents rapacious use. From this standpoint, it should be no surprise that dominance here ā€œis that of a shepherd who cares for, tends, and feeds the animalsā€ (Brueggemann, p. 32). This is far more than sentiment; the shepherd is one who exercises theā€œskilled masteryā€ (Davis, 58) essential for animal husbandry, or, today, healing cases of Covid-19, or even confronting the climate crisis.

Failure to take this responsibility seriously can damage the whole enterprise, as we see in Genesis 3 where the actors neglect to see as the creator sees. Linguist Robert Bringhurst writes, ā€œThe Hebrew text of the Book of Genesis has suffered a lot of editorial meddling…but the character of the underlying material is clear.Ā  The stories are full of foreboding.Ā  The narrators know they are dealing with hubris, not beatitude. And in spite of, or because of, the foreboding, the Hebrew text is laughing to itself….ā€ (Robert Bringhurst and Jan Zwicky, Learning to Die–Wisdom in the Age of Climate Crisis,University of Regina Press, 2018, pp. 9-10). This should be no surprise: for a poem stemming from the experience of exile to be without irony when considering ā€œdominionā€ would be strange indeed.

Yet this liturgical poem is completed hopefully, with the additional creation on the seventh day of menuha, sabbath rest. While Genesis 1:1-2:4a is often considered to be a description of the creation of the world, much more significant is comprehending this world’s character, which is crystallized in sabbath. As Norman Wirzba suggests, ā€œSabbath is not an optional reprieve in the midst of an otherwise frantic or obsessive life.Ā  It is the goal of all existence because in the Sabbath life becomes what it fully ought to be.Ā  It is an invitation to paradise understood as genuine delightā€ (Food and Faith, 2nd ed., Cambridge, 2018, p.86). Sabbath is for the whole creation, all of which is deemed ā€œgoodā€ and equally ā€œblessed.ā€ However, because all is ā€œvery good,ā€ sabbath rest may be especially important for humankind that needs to experience the radical interdependence (shalom) that alone can teach ā€œseeing as God sees.ā€ This journey is necessary to learning the skilled mastery of shepherd care.

And it is a communal pilgrimage.Ā  This is made clear by Wendell Berry in his poetry, fiction, and many essays, where he consistently returns to the theme of membership in the comprehensive community of creation. In fact, one of his most telling essays (vital during this time of Covid-19) is entitled, ā€œHealth is Membershipā€ (Another Turn of the Crank, Counterpoint, 1995, pp. 86-109).Ā  As Berry’s friend, Noman Wirzba, writes, ā€œThe goal of life is to enact relationships with each other so that the life people experience here and now can share in the divine, Trinitarian life that creates, sustains, and fulfills creationā€ (Wirzba, p. 89).

Because the character of the world consists of memberships, sabbath rest finds its source in a Trinitarian understanding of God who continually makes room for what is not God (creation) to be and grow. No grasping is allowed! ā€œTrinitarian theology asserts that all true reality, as created by God, is communion, is the giving and receiving of gifts.Ā  This means no living thing is alone or exists by itself or for itselfā€ (Wirzba, 198).

Today’s Gospel Reading is the culmination of community formation in Matthew.Ā  Amazed by the empty tomb, the faithful women are sent with a message to the rest of the followers instructing them to assemble in Galilee where they will see the Risen One (Matthew 28:7).Ā  It is not surprising to discover that the place of meeting is a Galilean mountain, for throughout Matthew ā€œmountaintop experiencesā€ are crucial. The tempter’s offer of total power (Matthew 4:8-9), Jesus’ most comprehensive teaching for the faithful (Matthew 5-7), the Transfiguration (Matthew 17: 1-9), and, now, the commissioning of the followers all take place in mountainous terrain.

Not only do these echo the biblical tendency to locate significant events on mountains; they also provide away-places where teaching happens and community identity is formed. As Belden Lane contends, the mountain is the place where ā€œthe established order breaks down, a company of the future is formed, new rules are adopted.Ā  Jesus repeatedly leads people into hostile landscapes, away from society and its conventions, to invite them into something altogether newā€ (The Solace of Fierce Landscapes, Oxford, 1998), p. 45). From this Galilean mountain, the Risen One sends followers to nurture new memberships throughout the world.

Preceding this new direction, Jesus assures followers that he has been given ā€œall authority in heaven and earthā€ (Matthew 28:18).Ā  This is genuine authority, not the grasping for power dangled teasingly by the tempter (Matthew 4:8-9).Ā  We know that this authority is different, because in keeping with Trinitarian ā€œmaking room,ā€ Jesus immediately uses it to empower the disciples to ā€œmake disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit….ā€ (Matthew 28:19). Just as the Father-creator makes room for all that is made, now the Son shares the dynamism of new life to build networks of trust throughout the creation.

All of this is affirmed by a Spirit who enables deep connection between the unity we call God and those branches nourished by the roots of this vine. In his reflections on the Trinity, Augustine called this bond the vinculum caritatis, the ā€œvine of loving grace.ā€ As Mark Wallace suggests, ā€œIn the life of the Trinity, human transformation, and the renewal of creation, the Spirit is the power of healing and communion within all forms of life–divine, human, and non-humanā€ (Fragments of the Spirit, Trinity, 2002, p. 145).

Jesus’ ministry began with his baptism by John (Matthew 3:13-17); now it continues by the disciples ā€œmaking roomā€ for new followers and learning about the unity of creation. And this in a Mediterranean world based on the Pax Romana where the Empire brooked no competitors.Ā  Had not the Roman historian, Livy, claimed that the mythical founder, Romulus, had ordered, ā€œGo and declare to the Romans the will of heaven that Rome shall be the capital of the worldā€ (Warren Carter, Matthew and the Margins, Orbis, 2008, p. 550). Rome offers no room for options, but grasps for total control. But having failed to silence Jesus, imperial success in stopping his enspirited disciples appears unlikely. They listen to the new direction: ā€œGo therefore and make disciplesā€ (Matthew 28: 19).

Too often this call to go beyond boundaries to build communities of new life has degenerated into an ideology justifying colonial empire-building.Ā  This neglects the insights of Mission on Six Continents and other movements that have discovered to their surprise that when they arrived in ā€œother culturesā€ God’s presence was already there, requiring new understandings of what ā€œbeing sentā€ means.

The enormity of this task can only be based on the power of the final verse, ā€œBehold, I am with you always, to the end of the ageā€(Matthew 28:20, RSV).Ā  This verse completes the framing of Matthew as the Emmanuel gospel–identifying the incarnate one as ā€œGod with us ā€œ– and providing assurance that this presence will always accompany the memberships of the baptized. While NRSV translates the initial word as ā€œremember,ā€ we prefer the older, literal, ā€œbehold.ā€ As Maggie Ross suggests, ā€œThe word the NRSV uses instead of ā€˜behold’–ā€˜remember’–has nothing of this covenant of engagement or self-emptying requiredā€ (Writing the Icon of the Heart, London: BRF, 2011, p.10).Ā  Beholding calls forth the necessity of seeing the whole creation as God saw it, a deep beholding perhaps best nurtured in silence and sabbath rest.

To say God is with us in the context of the Trinity leads us to recall that the breadth of this promise includes the whole Earth community (Elaine Wainright, Habitat, Human, and Holy: An Eco-Rhetorical Reading of the Gospel of Matthew, Sheffield Phoenix Press, 2017, p. 218).Ā  After all, as our First Reading makes clear, all creation was blessed. Wirzba puts it best: ā€œThe goal of life is to enact relationships with each other so that the life people experience here and now can share in the divine, Trinitarian life that creates, sustains, and fulfills creationā€ (p. 198). Whether the ā€œothersā€ are garlic plants grown in well-composted soil, goldfinches at the feeder, or the new neighbor, we are called to ā€œgo,ā€ā€œmake room,ā€ and connect.

This is not the way we have been acting as we have entered the anthropocene era, where no longer is there anything purely ā€œnatural,ā€ untouched by human action. As a result, says Michael Klare:

“Mother Nature, you might say, is striking back.Ā  It is, however, the potential for ‘non-linear events’ and ‘tipping points’ that has some climate scientists especially concerned, fearing that we now live on what might be thought of as an avenging planet. While many climate effects, like prolonged heat waves, will become more pronounced over time, other effects, it is now believed, will occur suddenly, with little warning, and could result in large-scale disruptions in human life (as in the coronavirus moment). You might think of this as Mother Nature saying, ‘Stop! Do not go past this point or there will be dreadful consequences!’ā€ (resilience.org/stories/2020-04-14)

So is it ā€œStop!ā€ or ā€œGo!?ā€Ā  Because ā€œsurvival is insufficient,ā€ we must answer, ā€œboth.ā€ Easing the greedy ā€œgraspingā€ we have made our favored style of interaction, we are called like the persons of the Trinity to ā€œmake room,ā€ to learn from the non-human others and cultures that teach us to live within earth’s limits.Ā  We learn to exercise creation care with the skilled mastery of a shepherd. But we also stop to revel in sabbath rest, where we behold and enjoy the mystery of all things. Like the pandemic-stricken world of Station Eleven, we discover that all that can be counted or collected is not enough: we need the beauty of music, drama, and even worship. As we move Sunday by Sunday through the season of Ordinary Time (the term refers to the ā€œordinalā€ numbering of Sundays after Pentecost), we will find living out our gracious baptismal calling is more than enough.

Originally written by Tom Mundahl in 2020.
tmundahl@gmail.com

Season of Creation 2019: Sunday September 29 in Year C (Universe Sunday)

There is one Wisdom, one Beauty, one Mind that flows through the universe. – Leah SchadeĀ reflects on the Fourth Sunday in the Season of Creation.

Season of Creation Commentary on Wisdom in Creation

Readings for Fourth Sunday (Universe), Year C (2013, 2016, 2019, 2022)

Proverbs 8:22-31
Psalm 148
Colossians 1:15-20
John 6:41-51

The passages for this Sunday can provide a platform where science and mysticism can come together. Erich Jantsch, in his book The Self-Organizing UniverseĀ (Pergamon; 1st edition, 1980), said that God is the mind of the universe—the self-organizing principal of cohesion and organization that evolves as the universe evolves. It is the mind in all things, in the fire, in the ecosystem, in the amoeba, in the galaxies, and in us.

The passages in the scripture readings echo this concept of the wisdom/mind of the universe. The creation story in Proverbs and Colossians is a cosmic story that goes back to the very beginning of the universe. Remember Big Bang theory taught in science class? That supernova had a life, death, and resurrection, in that it birthed the elements of the universe as it exploded. Its death brought new life—helium, hydrogen, the beginning of galaxies. This means that Nature itself contains this imprint of the crucified and resurrected Christ. It is in every place, in every creature. That’s the revelatory power of Nature.

The image of the Cosmic Christ stresses that Christ’s lordship is an eternal presence through time and space encompassing all of Creation in the ultimate fulfillment and consummation of God’s will for the cosmos. Joseph Sittler’s interpretation contains seeds of an early ecofeminism, in that he identifies nature as ā€œGod’s sisterā€:

We must not fail to see the nature and size of this issue that Paul confronts and encloses in this vast Christology. In propositional form it is simply this: a doctrine of redemption is meaningful only when it swings within the larger orbit of a doctrine of creation. For God’s creation of earth cannot be redeemed in any intelligible sense of the word apart from a doctrine of the cosmos which is God’s home, God’s definite place, the theatre of God’s selfhood, in cooperation with God’s neighbour, and in a caring relationship with nature, God’s sister (Joseph Sittler, ā€œCalled to Unity:Ā Ā Redemption within Creation,ā€ inĀ World Council of Churches Meeting. New Delhi, India: 1961, reprinted 1985, p. 3).

While the ontological implications of such a relationship between God and nature (i.e., if they are siblings, who is their parent?) are worth exploration at another time, what the preacher may wish to highlight is the way in which Sittler expands a salvific Christology to be inclusive of nature.

The matter might be put another way: the address of Christian thought is most weak precisely where human ache is most strong. We have had, and have, a christology of the moral soul, a christology of history, affirmations so huge as to fill the space marked out by ontological questions. But we do not have, at least not in such effective force as to have engaged the thought of the common life, a daring, penetrating, life-affirming christology of nature. The theological magnificence of cosmic christology lies, for the most part, still tightly folded in the Church’s innermost heart and memory. Its power is nascent among us all in our several styles of teaching, preaching, worship; its waiting potency is available for release in kerygmatic theology, in moral theology, in liturgical theology, in sacramental theology (Sittler, p. 9).

With this in mind, a sermon for this Sunday should take its time with Proverbs and Psalm 148 to trace the contours of the story of the Cosmos’ and Earth’s ancient, primordial history in order to provide the memory of God’s steadfastness and love through the unfathomable reaches of time.

Wisdom again is found at the heart of this poem in Proverbs, explaining her origins as being with Yahweh at the very beginning of creation, intimately forming every aspect of earth, water, plants and animals. As Dianne Bergant observes: ā€œFrom the pathways of human society, she transports her hearers to the primordial arena of creation.ā€ (Dianne Bergant,Ā Israel’s Wisdom Literature : A Liberation-Critical Reading. Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1997,Ā p. 83). The preacher may even want to expand the lectionary reading to the end of the poem, where Wisdom beckons people to follow her. ā€œIt seems Wisdom goes out into the marketplace in order to invite the simple into her home”Ā (Bergant, p. 84).Ā Bergant sees an interesting connection here ā€œbetween the insights garnered in the marketplace and the very structures of creation. This leads one to conclude that the various kinds of wisdom delineated above are not so much separate realities as they are different aspects of the same realityā€ (Bergant, p. 84). Thus the marketplace, which tends to see itself as independent and apart from, lording over, and in control of creation, is, in reality, completely reliant on Creation, and thus Wisdom, for its very existence.

What implications does this have for the Church in its task of public theology? If the Church follows Wisdom’s lead, we will also locate ourselves at the busiest corners and crossroads where the public gathers for business and social meetings. The Church will issue invitations on behalf of Wisdom to become disciples of her teachings. And the Church will not mince words about the consequences of turning away from her instruction. The Church will invite disciples of Wisdom to enter her house, herĀ oikos, the very Creation-home itself. This is where they will learn from her the most profound and life-giving teachings.

The Gospel text from John illustrates the sensuous particularity of Sophia-Christ’s teachings. ā€œThe Bread of Lifeā€ motif is one that is so tangible, so earthy, so incarnational. A children’s sermon could unveil a loaf of freshly baked bread and ask the young ones to smell it and share what memories are evoked for them. Grandma’s kitchen, a favorite corner bakery, an aunt’s house at the holidays, all remind us that love is often expressed by the labor of our hands meant for the hunger of our mouths and bodies.

Nowhere is this more real than at the Eucharist, where the cosmic and the particular come together. Think of the doxology we sing or speak at the time of Holy Communion.Ā DoxaĀ means glory, radiance, beauty—it is a cosmic word; it is the radiance that permeates all things. Hildegard of Bingham says that there is no creature that does not have a radiance—tiny single-celled sea creature, an elephant, a redwood, a baby. Even the atoms of the universe contains photons—radiance, light rays! The glory of God, the radiance of the Cosmic Christ is, literally, in all things!

Every person is a unique expression of that radiance—there is no one else in the history of the universe who was you, or is you, or ever will be you. You, too, are the Alpha and the Omega. You are the first and last you. And there is but one Wisdom, one Beauty, one Mind that flows through it all.

For additional care for creation reflections on the overall themes of the lectionary lessons for the monthĀ by Trisha K Tull, Professor Emerita of Old Testament, Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary and columnist for TheĀ Working Preacher, visit:Ā http://www.workingpreacher.org/columnist_home.aspx?author_id=288