Awe at La Sainte Chapelle

So this photo of Bastian was taken on Christmas Eve, 2011, in Paris at La Sainte Chapelle, an unbelievable Gothic gem, built during the thirteenth century by Louis IX, to house relics from Christ's passion.  The wall of light created by these enormous stained glass windows had everyone in our family in awe.  The stained glass windows are not just colorful - they tell the stories of the Old Testament, the life and passion of Christ, and the on-going stories of the Church, up to the time of Louis IX and the building of the chapel in Paris.  

 

We were thrilled for the privilege of being there.

You can vote for this in a family photo contest at this website:

http://fieldnotesfromfatherhood.com/2013/01/23/the-family-travel-photo-finalists-are-here-vote-for-your-favorite-shots/

On Creation Care

I was invited to offer some comments in Chapel yesterday at Calvin College, and, with just a few edits, I'll post my remarks below.  Special thanks to Steven Bouma-Prediger, for his excellent resource: For the Beauty of the Earth: A Christian Vision for Creation Care, (Baker Academic, 2001/2010) from which I borrowed liberally, and also learned much.

Here is the text of my remarks:

Colossians 1:15-20                  
The Supremacy of the Son of God

¹⁵ The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. ¹⁶ For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. ¹⁷ He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. ¹⁸ And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. ¹⁹ For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, ²⁰ and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.         

“The Word of the Lord”

In his letter to the Colossians, Paul writes from prison in Rome.  His goal is to remind believers in Colosse that Jesus is supreme – the Creator and Redeemer, and Caretaker of the universe – Jesus is the center, the origin, the One in whom all things hold together, and through whom all things are being reconciled.  It isn’t exactly a letter about caring for creation, but let’s see how this idea that Jesus is at the center helps us understand our role in caring for God’s good creation.

The first thing you should all know is that I am not an expert on creation care.  When asked to kick this series off today, I seriously considered spending my entire fifteen minutes outlining for you the many ways that I could improve in my personal life in the area of creation care.  I own a car, a house, a dog even, and I eat meat and have used up more than my share of the world’s carbon and other resources.  Just like many of you.  I decided against this strategy, but I’m well aware that I can’t live up the standard set by one of my favorite characters from John Green’s book, The Fault in our Stars, Hazel Grace Lancaster.  When asked why she was a vegetarian, Hazel replied simply, “I want to minimize the number of deaths I’m responsible for.”  

 I do know some experts though.  On creation care, I have learned a lot from students over the past ten years while working and teaching here at Calvin.  The students who work with me in the Service-Learning Center, for example, always have valuable lessons to teach me from their own experiences, or from their courses, or from things they read.  Just yesterday I received an email link to a New York Times article from a recent alum, the article telling about some creative Indian engineers starting a company that provides power to dozens of small villages in rural India, using corn husks for fuel. 

  

 This happens to me all the time.  Once, on a trip with students to Birmingham, Alabama several years ago, while we were touring the Civil Rights Institute and learning all about the important period of civil rights activism during the 1950s and 60s, I remember asking myself and some student colleagues a difficult and important question.  I wondered, “How is my life today like the lives of those well-meaning white Christians during the early years of the civil rights movement in the South?”  What will be the issue that my grandchildren will look back on and ask me how I could have been a part of something so obviously wrong?  And unfortunately, there were many possible answers, but the one that stood out to me most dramatically had to do with my carbon footprint – the way I consume the world’s energy selfishly.  I’m still working out the implications of that realization.  I’ve also learned a great deal from my friend and colleague from the Biology faculty, Dave Warners, and from our entire Biology department.  This group of faculty, and many others, do a wonderful job educating us all on the importance of our roles as Earthkeepers. I learned from Dave for example, that the word “ecology” has at its root the idea of “home” – and that caring for one’s home is an excellent analogy for creation care.  We take care of the earth to the extent that we think of it like we think of our homes – as a place where we want things to be clean, safe, and hospitable to others.   In a short article I once wrote with Dave, we tried to connect the idea that we care for that which we love, and if we love God, we will love his cosmos – we wrote that “love involves setting aside self-interest for the sake of the beloved” – this love we have for God, for Jesus his Son, and for the Spirit, involves loving what they love, and scripture makes it very clear that God loves this cosmos, his created world.  I have also learned from my friends and colleagues Gail and Ken Heffner.  Not only does Gail direct huge grants to take care of the watershed surrounding our college, and Ken plan an incredible concert and film series every year, but together the two of them arranged to have their house in Eastown powered with solar panels on the roof.  They have literally put their money where their mouths are on this issue.  I’m grateful to colleagues and friends like these from whom I have learned to care more.

So what then?  If you love God, and God loves the world, how does that translate into creation care in your lives?  There are no obvious answers, but I should warn you that any attempt to be faithful in creation care will inevitably include some major challenges.  The society we inhabit is premised on a dependence on the resources the planet provides, but at a rate that doesn’t appear sustainable.  So how might we reduce our destructive impact on this world?  Especially in a dorm room where we can’t control the temperature, or in a cafeteria where food is easy to come by and that gets grown, shipped, prepared, and cleaned up with no effort on our part?  How do we begin to act justly for the creation?

In a wonderful quote attributed to Edmund Burke, we are reminded that “no one [has ever] made a greater mistake than the person who did nothing because he or she could not do everything.”

So let’s all start somewhere.

But before that, one other question, what about the people who say that creation care is a heresy, and a distraction from the real kingdom work of evangelism and missions?  This is a serious question, and one that is worth our time.  For today, I suggest that we try to avoid simplistic responses.  There is a complex conversation happening among Christians about our understanding of our responsibility, and the Bible can inform us, and God’s creation can also be a way of understanding God, and of discerning our place in the world.  So pay close attention to what God is saying to you, both through his written word, and his general revelation in creation.

Finding ways to make a difference in caring for creation is important.  Our relationship to God and to others is deepened when we care for what he cares for.  But your context makes a difference.  My suggestion for many of you is to pay close attention this Interim to the chapels, and to the different programs around campus that are part of the Kill-a-Watt program.  This series will provide lots of ways to learn about making a difference and demonstrating a care for creation.  There are also lots of opportunities to serve God both locally and around the country – I’m biased, of course, but I think if you come into the Service-Learning Center, we’ll be able to find plenty of opportunities for you to put your interest in creation care to work – whether it is working with the Plaster Creek Stewards, or signing up for a spring break trip to do trail maintenance or to learn about mountain top removal coal mining and its effect on local communities.  And of course, pay attention in your classes – caring for creation is an area of expertise for many of our faculty.

Another important question, it seems to me, has to do with “why attempting to make a difference matters even when it doesn’t seem to make any difference?”  Is the very act of trying important in a world so big and so wasteful as this one?  For lots of reasons, I say yes it is.  Our habits and practices shape who we are as people, and the living out of our faith is not necessarily always pragmatic or oriented around results.  

Eugene Peterson’s Message version of the Colossians passage reads like this: “Christ was there before any of it came into existence and holds it all together right up to this moment.  And when it comes to the church, he organizes it and holds it together, like a head does a body.  He was supreme in the beginning and – leading the resurrection parade – he is supreme in the end.”  I love that line about how Christ is leading the resurrection parade.  A favorite line from Wendell Berry encourages us to “Practice resurrection.”  Give some thought to what practicing resurrection might mean for you, for the world around you, and then get moving.  Christ leads that parade.

To close I want to give you a list of ten reasons to care for creation, borrowed from Steven Bouma-Prediger, in his book, For the Beauty of the Earth: A Christian Vision for Creation Care.  These reasons build on each other, but are not all of equal value.

First, self-interest – we all need clean air and water to live;  

Second, the earth is on loan to us from future generations – we owe it to our children and their children to provide an earth with clean air and water to survive;

Third, living simply is a gift and brings joy.  The old Shaker hymn tells it with the lines, “Tis a gift to be simple, ‘tis a gift to be free, ‘tis a gift to come down, where you ought to be; and when we find ourselves in the place just right, ‘twill be in the valley of love and delight.”  To critics who argue that if we all lived simply our economy would collapse, Bouma-Prediger suggests that “Christians most of all ought to question whether consumeristic materialism is worthy of allegiance.”  And the true joy in simple living rests on the space opened up for more authentic human community to develop in our lives.

Fourth,  we should care for the earth because “various forms of oppression are of a piece.  If we care for humans who are treated unjustly, then we should also care for an exploited earth.”  The existence of environmental racism requires that we connect our passion for social justice with a passion for earth justice.

Fifth, human beings have certain responsibilities to living creatures.  In other words, animals have rights, too, and these rights imply a responsibility for humans.

Sixth, a creature’s value, to God, to the earth, or to humans, generates our obligation to it, as caretakers.  Many non-human parts of God’s creation are designed to give glory to God, and in some cases, it is a human responsibility to ensure that those things can do that for which they were made.  So, for example, when a plant or animal species becomes extinct,  and humans bear responsibility for not protecting that plant or animal’s habitat, we bear the responsibility for the loss in glory to God that that living thing generated.

Seventh, our ability to flourish as citizens of the same globe is interdependent.  As theologian Jurgen Moltmann suggests, “The creatures of the natural world are not ther for the sake of human beings. Human beings are there for the sake of the glory of God, which the whole community of creation extols.”  And a reminder that God is the center of the universe, and not humans, is good for us. 

Eighth, God made humans stewards and caretakers of the earth, and we should care for creation because God said we must.  Loving God and neighbor are the two greatest commandments, and both of these are fulfilled in responsible creation care.

Ninth, since God made us in his image, we should act like God as best we can.   And since it is clear from creation and from scripture that God loves and cares for non-human creation, then we should too.

Tenth, we care for the earth because of gratitude.  The gift of this world, its beauty and complexity, its provision for our needs, and the needs of others, its natural praise of God is so overwhelming that we cannot help but connect this grace to a sense of gratitude.  The grace of God evokes gratitude in our hearts, and this gratitude leads us to care for that source of our joy.

Bouma-Prediger sums up his list of why we should care for the earth with the following words, and they are my encouragement to you as we close:  “So why care for the earth?  For many reasons – many good reasons.  Because our own existence is imperiled.  Because we owe it to our children.  Because an earth-friendly way of life is more joyful.  Because various forms of oppression are of a piece.  Because certain nonhuman creatures are entitled to our care.  Because the earth is valuable to us for its own sake.  Because it is in the best interest of the entire earth community.  Because God says so.  Because we are God’s image-bearers.  Because grace begets gratitude, and gratitude care.  Because, in sum, care for the earth is integral to what it means to be a Christian – it is an important part of our piety, our spirituality, our collective way of being authentically Christian.  And care for the earth expresses the fullness and vastness of the God whom we love and serve.” 

Pay attention to the Bible, to God’s Spirit, and to the creation.  We are each designed to uniquely respond to the beauty and the needs of this world.  Be grateful, and let’s find ways to be faithful together.

How was your sabbatical?

From January 1 until June 1, I was privileged with a sabbatical from my work at Calvin College.  The purpose of this sabbatical, as I understand it, was to allow some space for me to read, write, reflect, and rest, and to prompt some fresh thinking for my work and scholarship.  So that's what I worked on.  I  spent time at home, in coffee shops, and most inspiring, at the headquarters of ICCF.  I read several institutional histories from colleges and universities with faith commitments - places like Augsburg, Baylor, Calvin, DePaul, Gordon, Gustavus Adolphus, Messiah, Notre Dame, Pepperdine, Valparaiso, Whitworth, Wheaton, and others.  I wrote lots of notes on these stories, and I've gotten well along on a draft of a plenary lecture I am scheduled to give at the 22nd annual Lilly Fellows Program in Humanities and the Arts in October.  I was at home to say goodbye to my kids in the morning as they headed off to school, and I was often home when they've arrived back home from school.  We visited a nice beach and state park in South Carolina as a family for spring break, and we went with friends to see Monticello and the University of Virginia in Charlottesville.  I met a few students for breakfast every Wednesday morning, and I reconnected with dozens of friends from whom we were disconnected for the fall semester - over coffee or at one of Grand Rapids' wonderful beer pubs.  I organized, with some neighbors, a potluck Memorial Day picnic in our backyard, and was thrilled when nearly 50 of us gathered last week Monday.  And as the sabbatical time turned back into the normal routine, as May turned to June, I was, appropriately, in the middle of a national conversation about faith-based higher education and service-learning, at Messiah College in Pennsylvania - with colleagues and students from Calvin, and from around the country. 

Now I have been back at work for one week.  During that week I spent several hours each day in a faculty workshop on "Christian Engagement with People from Other Faith Traditions."  We read from J.H. Bavinck and Diane Obenchain (our seminar leader), Andrew Walls, and E. Stanley Jones, among others.  We talked about missions, and about inter-faith dialog and service.  It was inspiring and thought-provoking.  I also worked with four students and my colleagues in the Student Life Division, the Student Development Unit, and the Service-Learning Center, to get things unpacked, to hear about the year I missed, and to move into the summer with new energy, new rhythms of work and study, and a fresh vision for the work of connecting Calvin College with a host of service-learning and community engagement partners from around the city and around the country, and increasingly, from places where we send students for study abroad opportunities around the world.

I am encouraged by my work, my study, and my rest.  I see evidence of a growing host of people who understand what Wendell Berry means by affection, and who are spending their considerable intellectual, creative, and spiritual passions on building systems, institutions, families, communities, schools, and organizations that give witness to a coming kingdom of hope - a world turned right-side up.  This host includes, among many others, the Association for a More Just Society, the New Horizons Foundation, *culture is not optional, and ICCF - the Inner City Christian Federation, in Grand Rapids.

Thanks, Calvin College, for the gifts of this past year, including five months in Budapest and other places in Europe.  And for the rest of this winter and spring, and the hope of the summer and academic year that lies ahead. 

It all turns on affection

Wendell Berry’s 2012 Jefferson Lecture in the Humanities, sponsored by the National Endowment for the Humanities earlier this week was titled: “It All Turns on Affection.” 

You can find it here, and while it is long, it is worth the time it will take to read:

http://www.neh.gov/about/awards/jefferson-lecture/wendell-e-berry-lecture

In it he tells stories and offers some explanation for the times we live in – stories of his family’s land, an explanation of what an economy really is, and stories of what happens when people, over time, disconnect their “light within” from their practices, their business, their learning and their economies.  These are tragic stories, difficult explanations, and they only leave a very thin thread of hope for humanity.  But Berry very intentionally and very clearly leaves room for hope.  And for that I am grateful.

The hope that Wendell Berry offers and imagines comes from people he calls “stickers.”  For Berry, borrowing from his mentor and teacher Wallace Stegner, stickers are people who settle in and “love the life they have made and the place they have made it in.”  He paints a picture of his family over the past several generations, and its relationship with a particular local landscape and its challenges and beauty.

My sense is that what this “poet, essayist, novelist, farmer and conservationist” is saying to me in my daily work and life is that things are connected, and it matters that we learn to love the world and all that is in it.  When we have forgotten affection, or how to care for the whole, we have brought tragedy and destruction, violence and poverty on ourselves and our world.  I think he is right here.  And I think I am to keep working on helping people figure out how to care – to plant seeds of affection in my own heart and in the lives of others.

Thanks Wendell Berry and all of my co-laborers in this field of affection.

Indeed, as Berry concludes, “this has not been inevitable.  And we do not have to live as if we are alone.”

Two eyes - one crying, one smiling

As our family was  leaving Budapest last month, my friend Zoltan Monos shared this Hungarian saying with me: "Egyik szemem sír, a másik nevet" (~My one eye is crying, the other is smiling).  This is an apt description of our readjustment to life in Grand Rapids.  Many thanks to Zoltan, and to other generous and hospitable Hungarians (and some Americans, Kenyans, and others as well!) for making our five months abroad life-altering and positive.  Here Zoltan and I are outside a favorite cafe, Morricone's, last August.

My days lately have been spent reading and reflecting in a beautiful new spot, here at the headquarters of the Inner City Christian Federation, a top-notch housing organization working to provide beautiful and affordable quality housing in Grand Rapids.

I don't think there are any easy answers to the question "How was your semester in Hungary?" but we are grateful for all the interest, and for the time to ponder.  We are also grateful for the on-going involvement we have with the students from our semester.  Last night at our home, in addition to sixteen of our Hungary students,  we welcomed also Akos Molnar,  a Hungarian student who has spent January as a transfer student at Calvin. 

Moving forward, my sabbatical time from January through May is, and will be occupied with questions about how learning takes place, particularly in college and university settings, and what connections there are between co-curricular activities like community service-learning and students' intellectual and faith development.  I've just finished re-reading my 2004 doctoral dissertation, and am excited to return to the quest linking movements in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries with today's reality in higher education.  Recent experiences in Europe make the task more complicated, but more interesting as well.

One of the poems we read in class during the fall semester, Healing, by Wendell Berry, concludes with these two stanzas, and I find them intriguingly relevant to my current project:

VIII

There is finally the pride of thinking oneself without teachers.

The teachers are everywhere. What is wanted is a learner.

In ignorance is hope. If we had known the difficulty, we would not have learned even so little.

Rely on ignorance. It is ignorance that teachers will come to.

They are waiting, as they always have, beyond the edge of the light.

IX

The teachings of unsuspected teachers belong to the task, and are its hope.

The love and the work of friends and lovers belong to the task, and are its health.

Rest and rejoicing belong to the task, and are its grace.

Let tomorrow come tomorrow. Not by your will is the house carried through the night.

Order is the only possibility of rest.

–from Wendell Berry’s Healing, in What Are People For?

A poem for the new year

Thanks to my students, I recently discovered Denise Levertov's poetry, and for Christmas I received a used copy of her 1982 volume, Candles in Babylon. This poem, "Beginners," speaks to a hope that endures in the face of sin and much hopelessness. It seems apt for another year's beginning.

'From too much love of living, hope and desire set free,
Even the weariest river, winds somewhere to the sea -'

But we have only begun
to love the earth.

We have only begun
to imagine the fulness of life.

How could we tire of hope?
- so much is in bud.

How can desire fail?
- we have only begun

to imagine justice and mercy,
only begun to envision

how it might be
to live as siblings with beast and flower,
not as oppressors.

Surely our river
cannot already be hastening
into the sea of nonbeing?

Surely it cannot
drag, in the silt,
all that is innocent?

Not yet, not yet -
there is too much broken
that must be mended,

too much hurt we have done to each other
that cannot yet be forgiven.

We have only begun to know
the power that is in us if we would join
our solitudes in the communion of struggle.

So much is unfolding that must
complete its gesture,

so much is in bud.

2010 in Michigan

This is a photo of the Michigan wall map inside the Michigan Historical Museum in Lansing. Free, full of interesting Michigan history, and easy, cheap parking right outside. I couldn't help but wonder as I was "designing my own" really cool concept car, what the Michigan Historical Museum will have on hand in 30 years to demonstrate the radical changes in the state's identity during this apparently post-industrial shift. My way has been paid for by GM because of my dad's 40 years on the payroll there - will my children find meaningful work in sustainable energy? Without the jobs and income for families from the auto industry and its spin-offs, how long can schools and colleges stay viable to keep people like me at work? Here's hoping for a turn for this fair state sometime soon.