Sermon - July 29, 2012

In recent decades here in the United States, one of the most frequently reported and familiar manifestations of piety has centered around the end of the world. Popularized through novels and films such as the Left Behind series, these stories weave tales of sudden, catastrophic vengeance wrought upon a sinful, fallen humanity. A fortunate few individuals are “raptured” and thus spared the destruction, but for almost everyone else—and certainly for the rest of creation—the outlook is decidedly bleak, to put it mildly. 

In contrast to this extreme pessimism and resignation to earth’s destruction, another strain of popular culture takes almost the opposite view. Going all the way back to Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and the other transcendentalists, there’s an equally powerful tendency in American culture to celebrate nature as quasi-divine. Forests, streams, meadows, oceans—and, yes, the mountains we honor today—all take on a kind of mystical aura that enables the individual to escape the hardships of life in the city and “get away from it all.”

Closer to home here in California, naturalists like John Muir did much to popularize this approach—identifying, as one recent commentator explains, “human health, vitality, and religious meaning with sensitive immersion in mountain wildernesses.” 

Now, on the surface of it, it’s understandable that both of these ideas—the pessimism about the fallen state of  “this world,” and the optimism about the wonders of creation—would have broad popular appeal. We have only to read the news each day to see the excesses and destruction we’re capable of as a species.

And, at the same time, here in this region where we’re fortunate enough to live, we have only to drive a few hours to take in the wonders of Muir Woods, the Pacific Ocean, Lake Tahoe, or the Sierra Nevadas. In fact, since we’re lucky enough to live where we do, it would be pretty easy to put two and two together and say: “well, since the world’s a mess, let’s just retreat into nature and escape from it all, back to the way things are supposed to be…”

In many ways this is an understandable response to the thorny problems and issues that surround us, especially in a big city like San Francisco, where we live. And yet, it’s not the response that the deeper spiritual tradition represented in scripture would call us to.

Instead, as we hear today from the prophet Isaiah, God’s dream for creation—which we know God created good—is not for its destruction but for its renewal and rebirth. Creation is groaning, as Paul reminds us as well—not out of trepidation at its impending doom, but out of hope that it might be restored and revitalized—that it might give life and glorify its creator in the process.

What’s so key, then, is our role—our part as human beings in this story. As we’ve discovered and affirmed throughout these four weeks of the Season of Creation, we don’t exist in isolation from creation. We’ve not been placed here as if from outer space, simply to use up resources at will and then be plucked back magically to safety, if we’re lucky. Rather, we are part of creation. Our life, our existence is inextricably linked to that of the entire rest of the planet—earth, sea, sky, mountains, plants, animals—everything. Together with all of creation, and only together with it, we find hope for our own destiny as well.

And yet it’s not so simple as merely retreating into the woods and “getting away from it all.” As anyone who’s ever actually tried it knows, there’s no such thing or place as a pristine, utopian, problem-free retreat from life’s cares. Rather, no matter where we may go, the truth is that life is always about interdependence. Wherever we may be, whether surrounded by the urban dynamics of San Francisco or the rural woods of the Sierra Nevadas, the key question to ask is not: “When will I be raptured?” or “Where can I escape to?”…but instead: “How can I, how can we, start living in ways that honor and build up all of creation—including ourselves—in a lasting and meaningful sense.

Here at St. Mark’s we’re well on our way, simply through the awareness of creation that we’ve been cultivating these past few weeks, as well as in all the ways we reach out and seek justice and peace in our community and the larger world.

But perhaps as we conclude these four weeks of the Season of Creation, we might also reflect on how we can continue to grow in this call to serve creation. For example, what more can we do as a participating congregation in Interfaith Power and Light, which Rev. Canon Sally Bingham spoke about a few weeks ago? // Or, how might we honor creation through supporting the ELCA’s recent advocacy work for prison reform? // Or, how can we continue to continue to work for justice and peace in our local community? //

All these and more are just some of the ways we might respond to God’s call to be good stewards of creation. In a popular culture that celebrates escapism of either the extra-terrestrial or naturalist sort, it’s good to remember together that the kind of renewal that really works and actually lasts—both for ourselves and for the creation of which we’re a part—is the kind that honors our connections to earth and immerses us in the vitality of a life lived not for self, or group, or nation, or even species—but for creation itself. Amen.