Pentecost 23, Year B: The Dignity of all Creation
Mother Amanda Ruston, OSBCn
On the surface, the lections for this week seem not to have much to say about climate justice. However, too narrow a focus on climate justice may sometimes cause us to forget that humans are part of God’s creation as well. In the readings for this Sunday, the theme of human dignity emerges: a worthy and important counterpart to the care in which we are called to offer our stewardship of the earth. Whether we participate in the blind consumption of the earth or centre ourselves as the saviours of climate change, a too-high view of our own self-importance as humans can be detrimental. Rethinking our own self-importance in favour of a more expansive connectedness with all of God’s creation may allow us to adopt a more humble position, when facing the challenges of addressing climate justice and other systemic issues. It may also keep us from inevitable burnout if we recall that it is not up to us as individuals to be the Saviour of the world - that role is already filled. We are instead called to be in community with the rest of creation, united in Christ and sharing in the innate dignity of all God’s creation - both human and non-human.
Commentary
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The book of Job is arguably one of the most intriguing in the Hebrew canon; in it we see a snapshot of the theological wrestling the People of God are doing with what we might today call ‘prosperity gospel’ - a theology which asserts that if the people follow God’s law to the letter, they will be rewarded with material things and an absence of suffering in this life. Indeed, this reading could be taken as evidence to support that notion: Job’s faithfulness during his long period of physical and emotional torment is rewarded with a restoration of all the goods he has lost, multiplied several times over.
Disturbingly however, for our modern sensibilities, included in that list of ‘goods’ (and almost as an afterthought) are his children. Earlier in the book, Job loses all of his children in a natural disaster whilst they are eating together at one of the siblings’ homes. (Job 1:18-19). Now here, along with Job’s livestock and worldly possessions, we are told he has been given some new children, as if to simply replace the ones who were lost. Then, as if that is not offensive enough, Job’s daughters are described by their physical attributes alone, and his sons not at all, making it seem as though these ten people are indeed merely possessions to be counted amongst the rest of Job’s worldly goods and riches.
Upon closer look, however, we might begin to see past the stumbling blocks of time and culture to the really remarkable points of note. Whilst the daughters are described only for their beauty, the reading also tells us that Job counts them as equals with his sons in their inheritance. (v. 15b). Of the ten children, it is only the three women whose names we learn. (v. 14). In a patriarchal culture, both of these details are remarkable indeed. In a world where daughters are only granted an inheritance in the absence of male heirs, these three women are recognized as full and equal inheritors of the familial name and estate alongside their seven brothers; their dignity and self-worth are honoured. In other words, they are being treated as fully human in a time and place where it would be quite normal and acceptable for them to be treated as little more than possessions.
What we might glean from this in the context of the rest of the passage is that Job has come to learn a little perspective. In the first portion of today’s reading, we hear Job addressing God with somewhat more humility than he does in earlier chapters. Even though he has previously described himself as being very faithful - following God’s law to the letter and acting charitably towards his neighbours - there is also an air of self-righteousness about his declarations. Here, however, he quotes the LORD’s response to him:
“Who is this that hides counsel without knowledge?” (Job 42:3a)
Job realizes that - for all his wisdom, benevolence, and faithfulness, he is still human, prone to hubris and error. His declaration:
“Therefore I despise myself,
and repent in dust and ashes.” (Job 42:6)
is not a declaration of self-loathing so much as a re-orientation of his own self-importance. The humility he expresses in response to this new theophany allows him to see his own place, as well as the other humans in his life with fresh perspective. They, too, are made in God’s image - worthy of love and respect. They too, have inherent dignity. His treatment of his family thereafter may well be a reflection of how he now sees himself in relation to God, and to them.
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The lectionary suggests we may not wish to include vv 19-22, which is common when there are verses of the Psalms that seem to promote violence or misfortune towards others. However, what we lose from having only small portions of the Psalms included in our Sunday readings, and from excluding the portions we find distasteful, is that the Psalms in their entirety proclaim the fulness of human emotion, and paint a much more complete picture of the complexity of humankind’s struggles, joys, and yearnings. The Psalms are poetry, yet we all too often treat them as prose. Those of us who are Christian may do well to remember that Jesus himself was Jewish, and prayed these very Psalms - indeed, experienced all the fulness of human emotion.
Psalm 34 in its completeness encompasses a range of response to human experience and how it informs the Psalmist’s relationship to the Divine. The author declares praise for God, and encourages others to join in with them (vv1-3, 5, 8). They declare that in their time of trouble, their cry to the Lord was answered (vv 4, 6), and conclude that God takes care of those who are righteous (vv7, 9-10, 15, 17, 19, 22), and punishes those who are evil (vv16, 21). Upon first glance, we may glean some of that ‘prosperity gospel’ theology hinted at in this week’s reading from Job. If this is where we land, the Psalm will not be very helpful for most of us.
If, however, we see it as a declaration of human experience and an abiding faith in a God who never abandons us, even when we are at our most despairing or depraved (indeed, if we read all the Psalms this way), then we may join our voices with the Psalmist and with all the faithful throughout the millennia who have prayed these same words. The Psalms are the constant stream of prayer from humankind to God, and a means by which we may hear God’s voice speaking back to us. They are the flow with which we join in connection to God’s own experience of humanity. It is uniquely in the Psalms that we find ourselves connected with all of creation, all of humankind, as well as with the Divine.
The Psalmist recognizes and concludes that God is good; the language of praise in verse 8 is so lovely that the Anglican Church of Canada uses it as one of the common responses to the Presentation of the Gifts during the Eucharist:
Taste and see that the Lord is good;
happy are they who trust in him!
A preacher who wishes to include the Psalms in their sermon may do well to keep in mind the entirety of the Psalm and indeed the entire Psalter as a body of work. The declarations of praise in this week’s portion of Psalm 34 are a wonderful addition to punctuate a sermon declaring God’s goodness, faithfulness, and provision for all of Creation.
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The lectionary this week sequentially continues the letter to the Hebrews, which has been describing Christ as our great High Priest and explaining the nature of salvation. This section of the letter strongly suggests a sacrificial theology (sometimes known as ‘substitutionary or vicarious atonement’), especially as it compares and contrasts with the previous model of animal sacrifice as atonement for the Hebrew people.
The preacher who wishes to tackle this passage could explore the topic of Christ the high priest or Christ as sacrifice (or both). Much could be (and has been) written on both these themes, but for the sake of staying on topic, the focus of this commentary will only contain a brief reflection on their implication for creation care, specifically using the sacrificial model of atonement described in this passage.
Sacrifice is an important theological principle throughout both the Old and New Testaments; one which it is crucial not to overlook. We may be tempted to avoid it altogether given the sometimes harmful ways it is used, however, if we do not address it with helpful and life-giving approaches, we do nothing to redeem it from the unhealthy paradigms that cause harm.
In the Levitical sacrificial system, animals are slaughtered for the sake of human sin, day after day, year after year, by priest after priest. The New Testament does not do away with sacrificial atonement, but creates a continuum in language and imagery… with one major shift: Christ is both the high priest and the sacrifice.
Although this changes everything, the new covenant in Christ does not let us off the hook; we are reminded that sin is very, very costly.
“Without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness of sins.” (Hebrews 9:22)
If we find this theory of atonement challenging, it may be helpful to step back and imagine the sense of infuriating injustice we feel when someone is not made to pay the price for an unthinkable crime. We may look at the thousands of lives lost in senseless wars and heartless genocide and begin to get the notion that there must be justice paid for blood spilt. No doubt, the preacher will not find it difficult to come up with contextual examples relevant to their own time and place. One universal truth is that sin is costly, and the price can never be paid, even with an endless, hopeless parade of sacrificial offerings.
Yet, this section of the letter is declaring that Christ provides sufficient sacrifice for all creation, for all time. This is not a free pass to do whatever we want, but it does set us free to let go of disparaging views of humankind AND creation, because we are not obliged to spend all our energy (and the precious lives of God’s non-human creatures) paying for our transgressions, wondering whether and how it will ever be enough.
Yet, it is important to note that the commandments in the Levitical code are given to a people already chosen and set apart. It is not the sacrifice which earns them a place before God; they are already chosen and beloved.
Just so, the sacrifice of Christ is not God’s reaction to the sin of humankind. Rather, the self-sacrifice of God in Christ is an inherent part of the Divine nature, built into the fabric of creation from the beginning. We are united to all people and to all creation through the self-sacrifice of the Divine.
Sacrificial atonement theology may be problematic for some, but ignoring it is not helpful, and perhaps seeing it anew through the lens of the inherent self-sacrificial nature of God may allow us to reframe the way we see ourselves and others. Once we can let go of guilt and fear and know ourselves as beloved, we may be free to view all creation as beloved of God and connected as one community through the abundant and self-giving love of Christ.
Indeed, it may also encourage us to let go of vilifying others, of trying to escape our own culpability, and instead to see our fellow humans and non-human creatures with more dignity and respect, rather than as scapegoats for all the things that are wrong with the world, and objects to use for our own purpose.
If God’s self-sacrifice is built into creation from the beginning, then there is no need to run, no reason to fear. We are all equally redeemed and united to one another and to all creation through God’s self-giving love.
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The Gospel reading this week is the story of Bartimaeus, a blind beggar, and his encounter with Jesus. Again we have little in this story that speaks about climate justice specifically, but we do have a rich resource for the topic of human dignity.
As Jesus and the disciples approach, the man cries out for Jesus to have mercy on him. Culturally, pairing the request for mercy (implying a debt owed) with his identification of Jesus as ‘son of David’ (placing Jesus in the Messianic role), he is audaciously putting Jesus in the position of either affirming this role and thus rewarding him with healing, or proving that he is not the Messiah by ignoring the request.
The crowd and those around him urge the man to be quiet. Here is a man that society has rejected; he is devoid of one major sense, and they are trying to take away his voice as well - the only method he has left with which to assert himself. He does not allow himself to be silenced, however. Despite his affliction, he knows his own dignity and draws upon it, shouting even more loudly. Finally, Jesus himself asks him to come over, at which point the crowd’s attitude completely shifts, and they encourage him to get up and approach Jesus.
Note how Jesus addresses the man. He does not assume an authoritative stance, befitting the claim of Messiah. He does not even assume that the man wishes to regain his sight. Jesus asks him, “What do you want me to do for you?” (v. 51a), taking the posture of a servant. The man responds that he wishes to see again, and his sight is immediately restored.
Focusing on the nature of the healing - whether it is literal or allegorical - is often the angle preachers may be tempted to take here. There is also much that can be explored on the topic of ‘blindness’. From a social justice perspective, however, it may be interesting to focus instead on the way each of the players in this scene react to the blind man. The man himself seems to have a sense of his own innate dignity, and is bold enough to cry out loudly for Jesus’ attention. Another point of interest is the man’s body language. Upon hearing that Jesus has called him, he leaps up and throws off his cloak. What enthusiasm!! By contrast, the crowd tries to stifle his voice… until Jesus notices and affirms him, at which point they completely change their tune. Jesus treats the man with respect and dignity, asking him what he wants instead of assuming, listening to his response, and then facilitating the restoration of his sight.
This is a perfect example of a passage in which we might use a classic exegetical approach and wonder: who are we in this story? Are we the crowd, silencing the voice of the marginalized, or even our own voice for justice? Are we the man, afflicted but able to see our own worth and dignity, and to use our voice for the sake of healing? Are we the crowd after having encountered Jesus, able to see the error of our ways and adjust our behaviour? Are we Jesus, affirming the dignity of others, and listening without assuming? Or are we some, or all of those roles, at different times and in different situations?
Preaching and Teaching Ideas
Humility vs. Self-Importance
It is so easy for those of us with socio-economic privilege to see others as marks for our ‘charity’. Yet, in doing so, we run the risk of failing to see their inherent dignity. Who might we be guilty of seeing as less than human? It might be worth exploring the danger of benevolence becoming self-righteousness, and the ways in which this can dehumanize others. Both the reading from Job and the Gospel reading touch on this theme. Do we view charity as being something we ‘do’ for the ‘less fortunate’? Have we ever actually asked those we view as needing charity what they REALLY want/need? How can we lift up and celebrate the dignity of ALL human beings, especially those whom society disparages or forgets about? Might a refreshed reminder of our place before the awesomeness of God help us to have a more balanced perspective of our own self-importance, and our true role in the healing of societal ills?
Whose Role is it to be the Saviour?
Humankind is prone to polar extremes, and the ones we are often tempted towards when it comes to our ontology are: 1) to absolutely centre ourselves as the pinnacle of creation, or 2) to completely negate our own worth and value. Both of those viewpoints offer little in the way of healing - the former devastates the earth, and the latter depletes our own health and wellbeing. Have we fallen into the paradigm of seeing ourselves as the saviour(s) of climate change? Have we taken up causes, marches, protests, to assuage our own guilt and helplessness in the face of massive systemic problems? Or can we, in the reading from the letter to the Hebrews, be reminded that it is Christ who is the one and true Saviour; who unites us with God and all of creation through the gift of Divine self-giving love? If so, what role does Christ play in our social and climate justice efforts? These are difficult questions to ask, and while they should be treated with care and compassion, are still perhaps worth asking in congregations seeking to be faithful to God’s saving love.
Community with all of Creation
Community is always a relevant topic, for every congregation in every time and place. All of our readings this week speak about relationship: between God and humankind; between humans with other humans; between God and other creatures; between humans and all of creation. A reminder that we are called to companionship and communion with all of creation, with Christ as the centring force, may help to reframe the way we view creation care. If we take any of those elements away - God + humans + creation - we are left with an incomplete picture of what and who we are called to be. Likewise, if we place ourselves in a role meant for God or for non-human creation, we also fail to live into the goodness and joy and abundance God has called into being. Right relationship with God, with other humans, and with creation, is necessary for our wellbeing and the wellbeing of the earth. That is what is at the heart of reconciliation: a reframing of our own place in the web of community. Where might we have strayed from our rightful place? What might we need to shift to re-orient ourselves back into right relationships?
Sources and Resources
The Cultural World of Jesus, Cycle B - John J. Pilch
Preaching Job - John C. Holbert
Reflections on the Psalms - C.S. Lewis
The Book of Psalms - Robert Alter
The Crucifixion: Understanding the Death of Jesus Christ - Fleming Rutledge
Stewards of Creation: A Hope-Filled Ecology - The Canterbury Statement, 2020
Making all Things New: Catholicity, Cosmology, Consciousness - Ilia Delio
Justice and Love: A Philosophical Dialogue - Mary Zournazi & Rowan Williams
The Divine Milieu - Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
Contributor Bio
Amanda Ruston is an Anglican priest, artist, and vowed Benedictine. She is currently priest-in-charge at St James’ Anglican Church, located on the traditional, ancestral, and unceded territory of the Musqueam, Squamish and Tsleil-Waututh First Nations. The living theology of the DTES streets and people have greatly informed her approach to the topic of creation care and social justice. She is currently illustrating a second book of children’s bible stories (by author, the Rev’d Dr Rob James); the first of which will be published late 2024.
Image
Book of Job, Plate 20, Job and His Daughters - William Blake (public domain)