Just a word before we go...Twenty-seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time...

Nature never ceases to amaze me. In spite of all we humans do to control and tame her, her tenacity and resilience prevail...until we step in. Consider the flowers that have sprung up through the cement by the basement door of the rectory. They are a testament to such tenacity. Never planted, at least by human hands, they somehow appeared, and have captured my imagination, bringing a smile to my face each time I pass them. Of course, these flowers probably originated from those in a pot next to the back stairs, but they would not continue to live on their own, dependent as they are on a person to water them. They speak in a quiet way of the relationships that necessarily exist between people and what grows on the earth. This sharing of energy among various living things is a sort of communion (with a small c), an example of what theologian Paul Tillich would call love, as in "the power that drives everything there is toward every thing else that is."  It is this communion, this sharing of energy, that powers a friendship or a marriage. Keeping that communion among people and with nature gives witness to the kingdom of God, as in the original Garden of Paradise.

In thinking about the closing of this time the pope has designated as the "Season of Creation," I was reminded of the words of Chief Seattle, a nineteenth century Suquamish Native American, who wrote the following: "Every part of this earth is sacred; every shining pine needle, every sandy shore, every mist in the dark woods, eve- ry clearing, every humming insect, is holy. We are part of the earth and the earth is part of us. All things are connected. The earth is our mother; whatever befalls the earth befalls the children of the earth. The earth does not belong to us; we belong to the earth. We do not weave this web of life; we are merely strands of it. Whatever we do to that web, we do to ourselves. We drink from our own wells."

We humans have a tendency to regard creation or nature as an entity beyond or apart from us, to be used solely for our benefit. We can forget or disregard the words of Genesis, or Chief Seattle, or Pope Francis, when they clearly tell us that we humans are part and parcel of creation, indisputably connected and interdependent. Care for creation means care for all of creation, including every member of the human race, as we are all siblings. As G.K. Chesterton observed, "We are all in the same boat in a stormy sea, and we owe each other a terrible loyalty."

Margaret Atwood, in her poem, "All Bread," addresses the interconnection of creation as she describes the processes and ingredients involved in the making of bread, from what decomposes to feed the soil, to the human hands and effort to knead and bake. She ends the poem with these words:

"All bread must be broken so it can be shared.
Together, we eat this earth."
Amen.