The first changes of Fall are visible this week in the woods. Most notable? Leaves all over the ground and in the stream! The ones still in the trees are turning yellow little by little, preparing to make the descent to the earth below. It is a time of anticipation here – I can only wonder if the creatures of the woods feel sullen about or accepting of the fact that Winter is approaching. As I ponder the leaves, I reflect upon how I too am in a time of anticipation. Soon enough, I will be graduating college and moving forward to a new stage of life, scared yet excited. Will God care for me as He does the leaves? How great is my faith?
What I have found wonderfully refreshing about this class thus far is that it causes me to re-examine all parts of my life. I originally thought it would make me more conscious of my consumption practices, but I had no idea that ecology is the root of and inevitably connects such topics as health, hunger, violence/war, livelihood, family, social problems, depression, and religion. This week, due to reading the last few essays in The Art of the Commonplace, the relation of religion to ecology was at the forefront of my mind. I have always considered myself to be both a spiritual and a religious person. Spiritual in the sense that I have desired and maintained a relationship with my God and have sought divine guidance while searching for purpose in life; religious meaning that I have been a full and participating member of the Catholic Church since Baptism at age zero. Though I have stumbled upon some roadblocks recently and have been exploring other denominations of Christianity, I have no doubt that faith will always remain fundamentally important to me.
Having said this, lately, I have found myself unenthusiastic about my prayer life and slightly disillusioned with family members who consider themselves Christians. When I try to talk to them about what I have been learning and how I think they would really enjoy Berry’s essays, they seem amused by my zest but remain predominantly apathetic. I am by no means perfect, but it has been discouraging to have family be more concerned about small differences in doctrine/denomination and less interested in putting Biblical roots into practice. This is directly related to what Berry writes about in “The Gift of Good Land.” He states, “I wish to deal directly at last with my own long held belief that Christianity, as usually presented by its organizations, is not earthly enough – that a valid spiritual life, in this world, must have a practice and a practicality – it must have a material result” (Berry, 2002, p. 293). It is a wonder to me that prior to this class, I hadn’t truly thought about the environment in relation to my faith. I hadn’t made the connection that preserving God’s creation is in fact essential to having faith at all. As Berry notes, connection to the earth is so deeply spiritual: “How we take our lives from this world, how we work, what work we do, how well we use the materials we use, and what we do with them after we have used them – all these are questions of the highest and gravest religious significance” (Berry, 2002, p. 315). We can study the Bible all we want, we can pray unceasingly, but for me and other Christians, this has little value if we’re not considering it our mission to fulfill our responsibilities (Berry, 2002, p. 293).
The time at my spot this week and the experience at the Bentleys’ farm have given me new insight into how I can reinvigorate my spiritual life. The life and work of Nancy Bentley is a testament to how beautifully whole one can become through connection to the earth and compliance with nature. Nancy is content to let what will be, be. I don’t even know if she is a Christian, but she lives more like one than I do. What I found most moving about the time spent at the farm and my time in the woods this week was that being out there seemed more like prayer to me than what I have done for so many years inside a church. Maybe I don’t need to change my denomination or force myself to pray at certain times or align myself according to the beliefs of family and friends. Maybe I simply need to let God come to me naturally, through a new perspective on life and through experiences that remind me how amazing it is to actually be alive on this earth. Great faith is not made by a perfect life. It is made by acceptance of the natural ways of the world. Alas, perhaps I have answered my own question: the falling leaves from my spot are content to prepare to leave this world. They have fully lived the life they were given.
In the final essay of The Art of the Commonplace, “The Pleasures of Eating,” Berry writes, “In this pleasure we experience and celebrate our dependence and our gratitude, for we are living from mystery, from creatures we did not make and powers we cannot comprehend” (Berry, 2002, p. 326). We don’t know or have everything, nor should we. This is the splendor, this is the magnificence of being human. There is a raw vulnerability in this that is so enticing to me. Can we accept this? As a Christian, I must, for in so doing, I will extend my faith to aspects of my life (such as care for the earth) that have been lacking.