New Creation Is Proactive: Regenerative and Restoring – Dennis Ormseth reflects on becoming full participants in maximizing life’s creativity.
Care for Creation Commentary on the Common LectionaryĀ
Readings for the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany, Year B (2015, 2018, 2021, 2024)Ā
Isaiah 40:21-31
Psalm 147:1-11, 20c
1 Corinthians 9:16-23
Mark 1:29-39
āFor those who are in Christ, creation is new.Ā Ā Everything old has passed away.Ā Ā Behold, all things are new.āĀ 2 Corinthians 5:7 (translation by David Rhoads)
Why, exactly, is it appropriate to associate Jesus and ānew creationā? The question calls for an extended Christological discussion far beyond the limits this commentary and the abilities of this commentator. Our taking of 2 Corinthians 5:7 as our epigraph for this series of comments on the Epiphany readings nonetheless gives us pause, if for no other reason than the rarity of the association. Of the two instances of ānew creationā in the Bible (Galatians 6:15 is the other), this is the only one that specifically links the phrase with Jesus or Christ. As the authors cited in our discussion ofĀ Ā ‘new creationā in our comment on the Fourth Sunday note, the phrase āis generally seenālike the occurrences in intertestamental Jewish literature . . . as originating as a motif in the eschatological hope of the prophets, especially Deutero-Isaiah (see esp. Isa. 43:18-19)ā and ādeveloped in Trito-Isaiah into a depiction of the eschatological renewal of creation and specifically the idea of a ānew heaven and new earthā (e.g., Isa 65:17-25, 66:22)ā (David G. Horrell, Cherryl Hunt,and Christopher Southgate,Ā Greening Paul:Ā Ā Rereading the Apostle in a Time of Ecological Crisis ;Ā Waco, Texas: Baylor University Press, 2010, p. 166). Elizabeth Johnson explains the Christian extension of the concept (creatio nova)Ā Ā as follows:
“Adapting this same pattern of interpretation, Christian theology makes protological and eschatological assertions of its own (Greek eschaton, the furthest end). Anchored in Christ, the life of the church in the Spirit offers ongoing experiences of a good and compassionate God amid the community’s own sinfulness and graced commitments. Proclaimed in word and sacrament, experienced in ordinary and extraordinary moments alike, the merciful presence of God, which grasps us at times even in the ache of its absence, gives grounds for speaking with gratitude of an original beginning and with hope of a blessed future. Considerations of the world’s ultimate origin and final end launch the mind toward the unknowable. For theology this is the deep mystery of the living God who bears us up in the present.”
Is this association then primarily a matter of faithful extrapolation, which as Johnson admits can āsound like wishful thinkingā and can āseem like science fiction fantasiesā?Ā Ā āThe unreality of it all can be a stumbling block for faith,ā she cautions. āBut there is one God, burning fire of divine love. The logic of belief holds that if this absolute holy Mystery can create life, then this same holy mystery in faithful love can rescue it from final nothingness (Elizabeth A. Johnson,Ā Ask the Beasts: Darwin and the God of Love.Ā London:Ā Ā Bloomsbury, 2014, p. 213).
It is no doubt by virtue of this dynamic that we have the first reading and psalm we do for this Sunday. The church in assembly makes the connection between Jesus of Nazareth and the God who creates all things: first with his exorcism in the synagogue, now in this Sunday’s Gospel with his first healing, followed by additional exorcisms and healing of āall who were sick or possessed with demonsā until (in Mark’s Semitic hyperbole), āthe whole city was gathered around the door of Simon’s houseā (1:33). The church sees in these episodes the presence of the creator, and makes the bold claim that what happened of old is now happening anew. Creation in its fullness is being restored. More than simply miracle stories, the significance of these actions, in Myers’ view,
“can be seen only as a direct reflection of his social reality. Economic and political deterioration, especially in the decade prior to the upheavals of the Romano-Jewish war, had dispossessed significant portions of the Palestinian population, especially in the densely populated rural areas of Galilee. Disease and physical disability were an inseparable part of the cycle of poverty (a phenomenon still true today despite the advent of modern medicine). For the day laborer, illness meant unemployment and instant impoverishment. The ācrowdsā (ochlos) form the background to the story and represent a major aspect of its social location . . . . Jesus’ healing ministry is thus portrayed as an essential part of his struggle to bring concrete liberation to the oppressed and marginal of Palestinian society” (Myers, p.144).
These actions are what Myers terms āsymbolic actions,ā by which he does not mean that they were only of āmerely metaphorical significance,ā ādevoid of concrete, historical character,ā but rather that their āfundamental significance, indeedĀ power, lies relative to the symbolic order in which they occurred.ā Such action has ādivine power,ā but not in the sense usually ascribed to them; their power lies ānot in a manipulation of nature but in confrontation with the dominant order of oppression and in witness to different possibilitiesā (Myers, p. 147).Ā Ā In the language employed by cultural anthropologist Mary Douglas, āhis healing and exorcism functioned to ‘elaborate’ the dominant symbolic order, unmasking the way in which it functioned to legitimate concrete social relationships. Insofar as this order dehumanized life, Jesus challenged it and defied its strictures:Ā thatĀ is why his ‘miracles’ were not universally embracedā (Myers, p. 147-48).
It is important to note, furthermore, that these symbolic actions have purchase not only with respect to āwhat Jesus does,ā but also to whom and where he does them. In the period of this first day, Myers notes, āJesus moves from a synagogue in Capernaum to a house (1:29) to an undetermined wilderness site (1:35). Similarly, later Jesus is portrayed as moving from synagogue (3:1) to sea (3:7 to mountain (3:13) to house and finally back to sea (4:1), an itinerary of ākey symbolic coordinates.āĀ Ā And it is perhaps especially significant that Jesus desires to proclaim his message, not only in the city of Capernaum, but even more so in the āneighboring townsā (1:38). The crowds (ochlos) are āpeople of the land,āĀ Ā ālower class, poor, uneducated, and ignorant of the lawā with whom, according to the rabbis āJews should neither share meals nor travel togetherā (Myers, (p. 156). Jesus’ ministry relates in this way toĀ allĀ the people and theĀ entireĀ landscape of the entire region, āthroughout Galileeā (1:39).
The picture is thus one of a people dispossessed from the land by the dominating Hellenistic population of the cities, who suffer from diseases associated with that status, and are subject to demonic possession and alienated from the elite class that rules the community from the synagogue. āIn sum, in his careful use of socio-symbolic space, Mark portrays Jesus as struggling against the dominant symbolic order as it manifests itself in each social sphere in his mission of liberationā (p. 152). But they is a new people in the making, in new relationship to each other and to the land in which they live. Jesus is the catalyst for this development, as it were, the energies of which are the gift of the Creator. The Gospel reading for this Sunday thus introduces us in paradigmatic fashion to what might plausibly be seen as ānew creation:ā the work of one who ābrings princes to naught, and makes the rulers of the earth as nothingā (Isaiah 40:23), and who āgives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerlessā (Isaiah 40:29). Jesus does so precisely because his God isĀ Ā the one who also āsits above the circle of the earth, and its inhabitants are like grasshoppers; who stretches out the heavens like a curtain, and spreads them like a tent to live inā (40:22), āthe everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earthā (40:28).
In our first reading, we have an exceedingly significant prototype of this ānew creation.ā Isaiah 40, William Brown observes, reaches back to the foundational experience of the people of Israel in the ātrauma of exile brought on by the loss of land, temple, and king,ā from which the prophet drew āa new theological vision, one that emerged from the fertile soil of religious polytheism.ā The āGod of Israel, YHWH, is the one and only God, the creator of allā (William P. Brown,Ā The Seven Pillars of Creation:Ā Ā The Bible, Science, and the Ecology of Wonder.Ā Oxford:Ā Ā Oxford University Press, 2010, p.216). The crowning theological achievement of āSecond Isaiah,ā Brown suggests,
“was to have YHWH stand alone, but alone in manifold fullness. Stephen Geller identifies three originally separate aspects of divinity that came to be subsumed or integrated under Israel’s Godhead: ‘God as king, as warrior, and as protector.’ In ‘Second Isaiah,’ however, the list grows longer and more differentiated. YHWH is depicted as a warrior (40:10; 42:13; 51:9-11), shepherd (40:12), king (5:7); comforter (40:1-2; 49:13; 51:3, 12), lover (43;4), husband (54:5), potter (45:9), father (45:10a, 11), mother (45:10b,Ā Ā 11; 49:15), Holy One (41:14, 16, 20; 45:11), redeemer (41:14; 43:14; 44:6, 24; 54:5), and covenant-maker (42:6; 49:8, 54:10; 55:32) . . . .
God’s composite personality in ‘Second Isaiah’ cannot be reduced to any one attribute. Neither is YHWH simply a compilation of all them. God’s divinity is not measured simply by addition.Ā Ā In the fullness of divinity, the prophet’s God stands utterly alone and fully transcendent, above all categories . . . .
YHWH’s transcendent status rises above the myriad attributes and roles that are ascribed to the deity. āSecond Isaiah’sā conception of deity is more than the sum of its roles. Except for one. God’s most central role is also, not coincidentally, the one that fits God’s transcendent status most fully: creator. The creator of all is āaboveā all.Ā Ā God creates both darkness and light, the old and the new. YHWH is a divine singularity, incomparably and exclusively divine, whose creativity knows no bounds” (Brown, p. 217-18).
This Creator creates anew in Jesus, but ānew creationā doesn’t end there. Again in the present time, it is the hope of the church who in Jesus’ name would similarly seek to liberate the peoples of the earth and the earth itself from their destructive alienation, that the power of this God will manifest itself yet again and again. Thus withĀ Ā Psalm 147 we praise this Creator with present tense, as one whoĀ healsĀ the present world andĀ isĀ the origin of all that is and will be. Yes, Yahweh āheals the brokenhearted, and binds up their wounds,ā and yet also ādetermines the number of the starsā; and āgives to all of them their namesā (147:4). In Christ, we are privileged to participate in the new work of this God.
It is one of the most provocative aspects of Naomi Klein’s book,Ā This Changes Everything,Ā that she is alert to the need for what we have referred to here as ācreativeā power. She doesn’t call it that, of course, and may not have in mind divinity. Yet she identifies as āone of the most important developmentsā of the resistance movement against the destructive forces of extractive capitalism āa new kind of reproductive rights movementā, one āfighting . . . for the reproductive rights of the planet as a wholeāfor the decapitated mountains, the drowned valleys, the clear-cut forests, the fracked water table, the strip-mined hillsides, the poisoned rivers, the ‘cancer villages.’ All of life has the right to renew, regenerate, and heal itselfā (This Changes Everything: Capitalism vs. The Climate.Ā Ā New York; Simon & Schuster, 2014, p. 443). A promising shift is underway, she observes:
“As communities move from simply resisting extractivism to constructing the world that must rise in its rubble, protecting the fertility cycle is at the heart of the most rapidly multiplying models, from permaculture to living buildings to rainwater harvesting. Again and again, linear, one-way relationships of pure extraction are being replaced with systems that are circular and reciprocal. Seeds are saved instead of purchased. Water is recycled. Animal manure, not chemicals, is used as fertilizer, and so on. There are no hard-and-fast formulas, since the guiding principle is that every geography is different and our job, as Wes Jackson says. . . . is to ‘consult the genius of the place’ā (Klein, p. 446).
These processes, she observes, āare sometime called ‘resilient’ but a more appropriate term might be āregenerative.’ā Resilience is passive; āregeneration, on the other hand, is active: we become full participants in the process of maximizing life’s creativity.ā The vision goes far beyond āthe familiar eco-critique that stressed smallness and shrinking humanity’s impact or ‘footprint’ to embrace change of our actions āso that they are constantly growing, rather than extracting life.ā We are, she concludes, what Gopal Dayaneni, a California ecologist and activist, describes as āthe keystone species in this momentā and āhave to align our strategies with the healing powers of Mother Earthāthere is no getting around the house rules. But it isn’t about stopping or retreating. It’s about aggressively applying our labor toward restorationā (Klein, pp. 447-48). Although we might prefer to call the healing powers āYahweh,ā we can heartily agree with this prescription for ānew creation.ā
Originally written by Dennis Ormseth in 2015.
dennisormseth@gmail.com