Dear Friends,
This year marks the 800th anniversary of the death of St. Francis of Assisi. Francis resembled Jesus as completely as any person could. Francis, in an age that did not think in these terms, gave us a totally new way of looking at and loving creation. In this love of his, Francis showed us that we are kin to all creation and creation to us. We are not simply to use creation, or master it or dominate it. Instead, we are to look upon all creation as our beloved friends, family and neighbors.
In his “Canticle of the Creatures,” Francis taught us to embrace in our prayer brother sun, wind, air and fire. He honors moon, water, earth, and the stars as our sisters.
Swimming out into Canandaigua Lake a few weeks ago, sister water snake crossed my path, her head held high. A few moments later, baby water snake hurried along to catch up. We shared the lake. Sisters all.
In this month leading up to Francis’ feast, let’s read scripture in a new way. In answer to the question, “Who is my neighbor?” let us turn to all creation, which today, seems to be suffering all over the world from floods, famine, drought, and frequent storms of great magnitude. Let us honor creation with our careful use of its gifts and let it blossom in whatever way it can.
Theologian Elizabeth Johnson, in her book “Come, Have Breakfast,” encourages us to develop this way of thinking and living. “Give God credit for loving the earth. Loving God with all your heart and soul, mind and strength, be converted to your own self as part of creation. Love your neighbor as yourself. Ponder how you can make the world a more compassionate place for all living beings." (P.158)
The American author, poet, activist and farmer, Wendell Berry had a love affair with nature, much as Francis of Assisi did, though from a more humanist perspective. In his poem, “The Peace of Wild Things,” Berry, who died in August of this year at the age of 92, offers us a soothing place to grow stronger in our sense of oneness with creation. He says:
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
~ Sister Joan Sobala
