Today is Earth Day, a celebration of the environment that we exist in and commune with. Although I wish I could say that the human race has treated nature with the utmost respect, this is not the case.
This celebration today exists in the midst of the mistreatment of the Earth, and not only the forests and oceans, but the people, too. The two liturgies below — separated by a poem — are inspired by the holiness of the Earth. The comparisons to nature here are not only meant to be a figurative device, but also a reminder that, just as the whole human race is held in God’s love, so are the trees, rivers, fires, and air that we coexist with.
“Lord of all, to thee we raise / This our hymn of grateful praise.”
The Nature of Soil
Jesus, the seed of your love was planted far before we knew our name. You created us together as a forest, grown from the first dirt of creation. Your love is everlasting. You have given us a purpose to grow towards heaven above, a longing to be close to you. We stretch towards the light of your righteousness. In our growth towards holiness, we have stood with the posture of the tall oak tree, proud and centered in ourselves. Jesus, you do not call us to be the tallest, nor the straightest, tree. Instead, you ask us to look below. Look! The ground bears the mark of our Creator. Jesus, you have nurtured us from the beginning. But the forces of evil tear through the people of the Lord. Members of our family have been cut down by prejudice and hate, and in our vain pursuit of the Son, we have neglected this. Let us not turn a blind eye to the hurt of your people. Christ Jesus, you do not only exist in the sky, but your presence is imbued in the soil that we thrive in. Grant that we might love in a lowly way, becoming like the willow tree whose leaves reach to the ground, creating a canopy of shade in which life thrives, and divisions cease. Jesus, you became humble so that we might be given life. Allow us to become like you, grounding ourselves in your love and reaching out to those around us to form the ecosystem of your kingdom. Connect our roots, Lord Jesus, and renew our life, through your resurrecting power. For the kingdom, and the power, and the glory are yours now and forever. Amen.
Unclouded day
God, the creator of thunderstorms, is God, the giver of cloudless days, is God, from whose hands rivers flow, dusting up the basin in an endless cycle of recreation. O, the land of cloudless days, the land in which rivers end, where the Mother cradles each evaporated drop from the ocean surface as if lulling a newborn to sleep. O, for a night in which the contour of the stars is close as the soft grass beneath my feet. For the nearness of an unclouded sky, I cry. May I be filled by the rain, held by the clouds, revived by the crash of thunder, until they are dissolved for perfection. And as the water flows towards the Mother, so shall I, so shall I.
A Fire in our Souls
Jesus, Lord over all the earth, you are the first spark from the flint that lights our way. Joy to the world! We have – each and every one of us – felt the overwhelming happiness, excitement, and expectation, of your joy. It consumes the weeds of uncertainty and doubt like a forest fire. Joy to the world! We confess that this fire often feels like a smothering coal. Its smoke clouds our vision and leaves us choking on polluted air. These moments of confusion, sadness, and anger make us feel like the Israelites in the desert, who were led by pillars of cloud and fire, searching for the answers to unanswerable questions. When we feel this way, give us the courage to say: Joy to the world! For it is a bold, air-clearing statement to allow joy into the midst of our sadness. Holy Spirit, living fire, come clear the briars and thorns to reveal holy ground. Joy to the world! We rejoice in these freshly-made clearings, these little Edens in the tangled forests of our lives. Even still, the sum of our losses is a weight on our chests. We have suffered through winters of fear, when our hope was frozen. We have suffered through the darkness of loss, when we couldn’t see our hands in front of our faces, and we couldn’t hear your voice. Jesus, we have lost so much. We count everything as loss: our comfort, our belongings, our teachings, our life. Why do we do this? We do this for the sake of Christ Jesus, who first called us into a life of resurrection through his death and resurrection. It is by his power that our joy is restored. This is the heart of the matter: Christ died for us while we were yet sinners, and that proves God’s love for us. Is this our joy? The death and resurrection of Christ Jesus? Yes, our joy is in the Lord! Is this our joy? The death of our own selves? Yes, our joy is in the Lord! God, resurrect our joy like flowers from the charred ground, so that we may look more like the resurrected Christ. Joy to the world! In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Andrew Chapman 