One morning, as I was taking a brief hiatus from the weary stresses of life, I began to grow quite ponderous. I had always been told that I was a fighter inside, and I had applied that warrior mentality to my interpretations of the Divine. But a new, frightening thought dawned upon me: what if my assumptions had been wrong?
What if the Lord does not rule upon an ivory throne far away? What if He does not make vain pronouncements, and issue wrathful judgments? What if He is neither patronizing nor condescending, but rather infinitely humble, like the Earth beneath our feet, or the water we drink, or the air we breath, or the flame that comforts us in the dark? Are these such far-fetched notions: that the Lord rules by compassion, and not by fear?
What did Christ mean when He told His disciples "ye know not of what mind you are" after they had called upon the heavens to avenge His mistreatment? What does the most translated passage in all of human history – "He came not to condemn the world, but to save it" – truly mean?
If the Lord is that which sustains us, rather than that which tyrannically rules over us, then what does that make our abuse of this Earth? What does it mean when we demolish vast tracks of land, dirty the water, and pollute the air? Are we literally killing that which feeds us? Are we killing the Lord, just as surely as our ancestors crucified Christ long ago?
If the answer to all of those questions is unequivocal affirmation, then one cannot be a person of faith without also being a Gaian. For if, as ancient scripture states, the world and all that is in it belongs to the Lord, then what are we but mischievous tenants, who are destroying that which is not ours? And when its owner finally returns to inspect the premises, what penalties shall our negligence incur?
On that day, when I finally began asking these questions, I truly became an environmentalist.
Add new comment