Snowdrops, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
When Scotland’s lockdown began in March, snowdrop blossoms were telling of the coming of spring but the air was still frigid with winter. Apart from a short daily walk for exercise, we stayed inside our home. I did not venture to the grocery store for the first six weeks of lockdown. Being pregnant, I shielded as much as possible, with my husband insisting on running necessary errands. Six weeks into lockdown I finally got in my car and drove to the grocery store. Driving through the main street of our village. I soon caught sight of the fields on the hills ahead of me and began crying. The previously barren fields were now covered in bright yellow canola flowers. I spent the drive to my local grocery store thanking God for the gifts of spring.
In Laudato Si, Pope Francis calls for a conversion to an integrated ecology wherein a threefold covenantal relationship is lived out between the God of Life, humanity, and the Earth (66, 216). The relationship between nature and humanity is covenantal because, like our relationship to Christ, our existence and eschatological hope hinge upon being in right relationship with the cosmos. A conversion toward an integrated ecology, therefore, calls humanity to the humbling realization that we are part of the network of relationships and processes which determine the sustained existence and flourishing of life on Earth. Such a conversion also requires repentance through the acknowledgement of the immense harm that viewing human beings as masters of nature has done to the planet, and thus to humanity at large, particularly the poorest of the poor. While the average person’s impact on combatting structural and communal sins, which work against an integrated ecology, finds its greatest efficacy in the act of voting for candidates who make the climate crisis a priority, Francis nonetheless calls for lifestyle changes in Catholic individuals, families, and communities that flow naturally from a change in attitude toward our relationship to God’s creation, including other human beings.
Last year, my family and I endeavored to meet some of these lifestyle changes by eliminating as much plastic as possible from our collective family waste. I began educating myself. I became part of a zero-waste community on Reddit, and started reading articles about recycling myths and the importance of composting. I had not realized, for example, that plastic, unlike, glass or aluminum, can only be recycled a finite amount of times, and that much of what I thought was recyclable, was in fact, not.[1] Educating myself was difficult because I had to come to terms with the fact that even when I tried to do the right thing, the results might not be ideal.
Laudato Si itself played a big part in this project of ours. Francis’ concept of a covenantal relationship to the cosmos through Christ had a profound effect on the manner in which I envisioned my faith. Laudato Si broke open my heart to the realization that we are not just to take care of the natural world; we are bound and identified by it. The integrity of the human person and the integrity of the Earth are dependent on one another. While Catholics still hold that there is something intrinsically special about human beings in the manner in which we relate to and reflect the Divine, this human dignity cannot be separated from the rest of creation. To the contrary, it is a fruit of creation. To set ourselves as superior and apart, lording over God’s work, is to forget that the life-giving power of ongoing creation is the reason for our existence. The vastness of the cosmos and its most minute, seemingly inconsequential creatures and processes are a reminder of our utter dependence and littleness before the God of Life. Francis’ call to an integrated ecology is no less than a call to discipleship in our 21st century context. As a Catholic, I realize how blessed we are to have this articulated and affirmed by Church leadership. I wanted to walk the walk. I wanted our family to be a witness to this manner of following Christ in symbiotic relationship with the world.
There were points during this endeavor when I felt discouraged as I knew our family’s efforts made little impact in the battle against climate change. Joanna Leidenhag, lecturer of science-engaged theology at St. Mary’s College, reminded me, however, that as Christians we are not called upon to be the savior of the world. As such, Francis’ call to ecological conversion is not simply a call to fix a problem, but to discipleship. To give up on our small steps toward care for creation due to hopelessness at our having any sort of impact is in fact, hubris, and symptomatic of a white savior complex wherein the glory of God’s justice is replaced with the idol of my own influence upon the world. Responding with metanoia to environmental justice, rather, involves that noble pursuit toward which philosophers and theologians alike ideally orient themselves: the Good. As Christians, believing that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life, we are called to find Jesus on the Way. In this case, the Way involves doing all the small things we can that reveal the love of Christ for creation. This demands that we continue to speak to the truth of climate change and its simultaneous impact on people and planet. In this way we speak words that are congruent with the state of life on this planet.
As such, ecological conversion as a call to discipleship is also freeing. Our actions are not dependent only upon efficacy, but on humility. That which I cannot attend to I give to Christ in prayer, and to my fellow human beings in trust knowing that God does not expect me, nor does God desire for me, to fix every problem. Our burdens are made lighter by eschatological hope and the confidence that the Holy Spirit is continually revealing Godself throughout history in a manner that asks us only to hear the call and respond as best we can.
In March, COVID hit Scotland and lockdown ensued. The priority was no longer being zero-waste, but keeping the virus at bay. Homemade cleaning products made with white vinegar and essential oils were not going to cut it. We had to look for new solutions, with our family’s health coming first. We went back to bottles in the bathroom. Our bulk supply of bamboo, packaging free toilet paper and paper towels ran out about 3 months in, so we started buying whatever we could find at the store. Priorities shifted as was necessary, and while there was much encouraging news in the drop in CO2 emissions around the world, I was also disheartened walking around my neighborhood and seeing the amount of discarded masks and gloves on the roadside that I was too nervous to pick up, being pregnant and married to someone with a heart condition.
As numbers have improved in Scotland, and restrictions continue to lift, we have been able to return to most of our zero-waste endeavors. Taking things one day at a time, our family, without meaning to, acquired other habits that allowed us to delight in God’s creation. Not being able to go the park, we tried to get our children to play outside more. We soon discovered that getting them to leave behind Lego and video games to spend time in the back garden was less of a battle if my husband and I were working outside. We began pruning and planting as a way to pass the time. To save money we rescued some green onions that had sprouted and begun looking wilted in our fridge. We placed them in a glass on the windowsill. When their roots developed, we stuck them in some potting soil outside. We were delighted and full of pride when they began providing us with a continuous crop. Friends gave us small tomato and bell pepper plants. I scattered a packet of bee friendly wildflower seeds that were so small I could barely believe there had been anything inside that small paper package that would turn into anything, but they did. Poppies, daisies, wild grasses, and cornflowers soon appeared. We put birdseed out. Finally, not only was our garden growing, but bees, butterflies and sparrows were visiting daily. I found that even if we only stayed out to pick a few weeds the general mood of our family was elevated for the day.
By the time school resumed for our children earlier this month, we found that our sense of connection, and obligation to the Earth had increased in manifold ways. Walking our dog each day, I had begun to notice the passing of time by the wildlflowers growing beside the road. When snowdrops were replaced by daffodils, we felt the hope of spring in a new way; and when the wheat crops began to grow taller, making waves in the field by our house, we knew that summer was upon us. We relied on these daily walks, no matter how short, for a sense of freedom and connection to the outside world when we had been cut off from our former daily routines.
Five months of lockdown enabled me to realise that even while trying to respond to the call of discipleship by better caring for the planet, I had still not prioritized “being, over being useful”, which Francis argues is one of our greatest hurdles in healing our covenantal relationship with the cosmos.[2] Conversion to an integrated ecology wherein we seek a just relationship between humanity, the Divine, and creation must begin with a humbling metanoia. God delights in us because we are, not because we do. During lockdown, families and individuals were stripped of the relevance of anything apart from the state of their home life, and inner attitudes. Every certainty became uncertain, and placed in lockdown, we had no choice but to sit with our being rather than our doing, and how uncomfortable that made us feel. COVID forced us to settle into the present moment, wherein we must live each day as it comes, finding delight in baking bread, watching birds outside the window, or soaking in the sunshine in short daily allotted walks. When we delight in God’s creation, we desire its health and vitality. In this awe and delight before creation we find connection with the Ever-Creating God of Life. In this connection we find the call to discipleship, which begins in the simple joy and gratitude based in love that compels us to do all we can to live in a state of gratitude, rather than greed, before our Earth and all its gratuitous gifts.
Emilie Grosvenor is a PhD candidate in the Centre for the Study of Religion and Politics at the University of Saint Andrews. Her theological interests centre upon intersectional feminism, Catholic popular devotion, and eco-theology.
[1] European Commission and Environment Directorate-General, Changing the Way We Use Plastics, 2018, http://dx.publications.europa.eu/10.2779/109560.
‘How Many Times Can It Be Recycled? | OurAuckland’, accessed 8 September 2020, https://ourauckland.aucklandcouncil.govt.nz/articles/news/2016/08/how-many-times-can-it-be-recycled/;
‘“Plastic Recycling Is a Myth”: What Really Happens to Your Rubbish?’, the Guardian, 17 August 2019, http://www.theguardian.com/environment/2019/aug/17/plastic-recycling-myth-what-really-happens-your-rubbish
‘Plastics: What’s Recyclable, What Becomes Trash — And Why’, NPR Visuals, accessed 8 September 2020, https://apps.npr.org/plastics-recycling/
‘Plastic Waste and Recycling in the EU: Facts and Figures | News | European Parliament’, 19 December 2018, https://www.europarl.europa.eu/news/en/headlines/society/20181212STO21610/plastic-waste-and-recycling-in-the-eu-facts-and-figures.
[2] Laudato Si’, 69; Pope Francis quotes the 42 German Bishops’ Conference, Zukunft der Schöpfung – Zukunft der Menschheit. Einklärung der Deutschen Bischofskonferenz zu Fragen der Umwelt und der Energieversorgung, (1980), II, 2.