(click for a video on Franciscan creation care)
(This is the second in my series of blog posts from Dr. Childers’ Readings in Christian Spirituality class. Again, I hope you enjoy!)
As was discussed last Thursday in class during our discussion of Bonaventure’s Life of St. Francis, for so many of us the mention of the holy man’s name immediately brings to mind a picture of bucolic bliss and deep affinity for animals.
Yet our in-class musings about the legacy of Francis largely left aside this more familiar—and perhaps therefore clichéd—aspect and turned instead to the less explored riches of Francis’ views on asceticism. We all generally seemed to accept the idea that we knew most of what Francis has to offer concerning nature and would rather spend our time examining aspects of his life that are less familiar to us and to the religious culture at large. And while a discussion on Francis’ asceticism was obviously warranted and contained a great deal of value for us as Christians, for we have not typically imitated this aspect of Francis’ life, it also seems to me that though it is more familiar to us, we’ve also not imitated Francis’ intimate relationship with and respect for nature. For that reason, I would like here to explore what it might look like for us to take Francis’ attitude toward creation more seriously.
Francis, the patron saint of animals and ecology (and also lace-makers, by the way), was well known for his fondness toward animals and his tendency to refer to them as “brother” and “sister.” And for Francis, this was not just a rhetorical flourish. No, he truly treated animals as brothers and sisters, as children of the same God, fully capable of expressing the glory of their creator, just as people are. Francis showed these animals kindness and care, love and respect, and honored them as he would honor another human being.
Our own actions toward creation do not generally reflect the same kinds of attitudes. While notable individual exceptions exist, our culture as a whole adopts a stance of self-centeredness, greed, and discourtesy (alongside many other negative characteristics) when it comes to the natural order apart from the human race. Not considering the status nature rightly does hold as the handiwork and a reflection of our God, we use and abuse the earth and its inhabitants—plants, animals, oceans, land, and air—all for our own sakes. The debasement and exploitation of creation are far too complex for me to delve into here, but the travesties humans—including those of us who are Christians—have committed against God’s creation are horrendous and well documented.
And while full-scale change will take attentiveness, purposeful adaptive changes, and many years worth of transformation (not to mention a great deal of self-denying behavior, which leads us back to Francis’ asceticism), I cannot help but wonder, how would our own actions toward creation change if we were to simply adopt Francis’ way of speaking? Could not this basic act of recognizing the kinship we share with nature revolutionize our thoughts and therefore our actions? I think so.
When the food we eat is not some nameless entity designed solely to be consumed for our gluttonous enjoyment but is instead “sister cow” or “brother chicken,” we might think more closely about the ethics of our food choices. When the car we drive poisons the air that “brother elm” and “sister sparrow” breathe, we might choose instead to walk or bicycle. Or when “sister lake” is depleted and “brother field” turned into a landfill, perhaps we’ll simplify our lives by wasting less water and producing less trash.
Just think about a world in which we live in harmony with our sister earth and her inhabitants… Think about a world in which we recognize the goodness of all God’s creatures and in which we show them the respect they are due as images of the living God… This is the world that God designed us to be a part of. Let’s recover that kind of world. And let’s begin by attending to our sisters and brothers and not merely ourselves.
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