“We will not fight to save what we do not love.” –Barbara Brown Taylor
Throughout January I have been reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s new collection of sermons called Always a Guest. Early on in this compilation there is a sermon called “The Dominion of Love.” In this inspiring homily Barbara explores what God might mean in the Genesis 1:26 command for humans to “have dominion” over Creation. She notes that for many years the predominant view was “despotism.” Humans had the right to do with Creation whatever they chose. In this view, everything was put here for human benefit and disposal. Eventually many people of faith came to see this dominion to imply they are “stewards” of Creation or “divine servants” who have been entrusted with the care of the earth and all its inhabitants. The idea of being stewards means the earth does not belong to you or I but is rather on loan to us.
Many people of faith have grown quite comfortable with the idea of humans maintaining the role of stewards of the earth. Barbara, however, suggests there may be other models to consider, ones that bring us closer to the real meaning of dominion. She says the idea of “stewards” is “awfully utilitarian” and claims that when we are stewards we “act from duty, not love, which may not be enough for this warming world of ours.” An alternative model she presents for our consideration is that of “priest.’ A priest is someone who sees in the world “an altar laid with God’s good gifts, just waiting for someone to bless them and hold them up to heaven again.” You and I have the privilege and honor of being “priests” when it comes to Creation. This gives the doctrine of the priesthood of the believer a whole new meaning.
Next Barbara offers the model of “neighbor,” noting that Jesus taught us we are to love and care for our neighbor. At this point in the sermon she raises a series of questions: “Do only two-legged ones qualify, or do my neighbors include the four-legged ones, the winged ones, the ones with fins and fur? Does God’s compassion stop with human suffering, or does it extend to every creature in need of mercy, especially those with no voice of their own to cry out for help?” It should be clear that we are to be caring neighbors not only to humans but to all God has made.
The next model Barbara suggests is that of “kin.” She points here to the interconnectedness of all of Creation as revealed in the Genesis 1 narrative. There is, in fact, a commonality in all created things. The web of life is undeniable. This commonality should motivate us to be more considerate of the rest of Creation when it comes to having dominion.
The final model offered in this amazing sermon is that of “lovers.” Barbara Brown Taylor says “We are made in the image of the First Lover, the divine one, who brought this whole shebang into being. If it is true that we have been put here to live in that image, then the only dominion we can possibly exercise is the dominion of love—without condition, without distinction, without self-interest or secret devotion to any other dominion, including the one in which the value of all things is reduced to their price.” In the end she concludes, “We are here because God made us, and if God made us, we live by love. We are here to preside over the dominion of love in God’s name.”
It will likely be hard for a lot of us to get away from the use of the word “stewards” but the models of “priests,” “neighbors,” “kin,” and “lovers” should certainly be incorporated into the concept. Like Barbara Brown Taylor, I think “lovers” is probably the best way to understand our role as those who have been given dominion over the earth. God created the world in love. God created us in love. Now God expects us to serve and care for the world in love. Anything short of love will not do.
I spent the past week at the Ghost Ranch in northern New Mexico. It was an incredible experience on numerous levels. I enjoyed learning from John Philip Newell as he talked about his new book, The Rebirthing of God. He and his wife, Ali, also led in worship each morning and evening. The services were spiritually uplifting. The landscape around the Ghost Ranch was also incredible. I have traveled extensively around the Desert Southwest and without a doubt this was some of the most beautiful scenery I’ve ever seen there. Each day I had a chance to get out and do some photography in the area. This, too, proved to be spiritually uplifting. I always seem to sense God’s nearness in the desert for some reason.
One very pleasant surprise for me at the Ghost Ranch was the night skies. Two nights the skies were completely clear and those nights I witnessed the glory of the heavens as never before. The Milky Way seemed almost close enough to touch. I was in total awe. The words of the Psalmist kept coming to mind: “When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place; what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?” (8:3-4) I did indeed feel humbled beneath the vastness of the heavens above but at the same time I recognized that the One who made those stars dwelt within me and was close by. The transcendence and immanence of God was apparent at one and the same time. I could not help but offer my worship to the Maker of heaven and earth.
Each morning as a part of our workshop we were asked to go outside and spend twenty minutes in silence. On the day following my close encounter with the Milky Way I spent my twenty minutes laying down on a large stone beside a giant cottonwood tree looking up at the sky. The sky was a beautiful blue, punctuated with fluffy white clouds. After a while it dawned on me that I was looking up in the same area I beheld the stars the night before and that those stars were still there extending their light. Because of the brightness of the sun the stars could not be seen but they were there nonetheless. This was, of course, something I already knew, but it did drive home a truth that I had not pondered previously—some manifestations of God’s glory can only be experienced in darkness.
While at the Ghost Ranch I finished reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s new book, Learning to Walk in the Dark. This inspirational work has made me look at darkness in a new way. She offers many compelling reasons to embrace the darkness, both physical and spiritual. At one point Taylor writes, “If we turn away from darkness on principle, doing everything we can to avoid it because there is simply no telling what it contains, isn’t there a chance that what we are running away from is God?”
I am convinced more than ever that we must learn to approach the dark periods of our life in a new light. We tend to think of darkness in negative terms but it may well be that the darkness is needed at times for God’s glory to be revealed. There are lessons that God can only teach us, things that the Creator can only show us, in the dark seasons of our life. This doesn’t necessarily make those dark seasons easier to endure but it does offer us a glimmer of hope—that in the darkness we may just see a light or manifestation of God that could not be seen otherwise. The skies above New Mexico and the testimony of many of the saints of history all bear witness that this is true. When you find yourself in darkness—whether physical, spiritual or emotional—I encourage you to look for that which might not be seen otherwise. It may just be that it is in the darkness where you will see God the clearest.
–Chuck
(I took the images above at or near the Ghost Ranch in northern New Mexico this past week.)
“If I say, ‘Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me,’ even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.” Psalm 139:11-12
Barbara Brown Taylor has long been considered one of America’s best preachers. She also happens to be a very good writer. I am currently reading her newest book, Learning to Walk in the Dark. In this delightful book Taylor offers a positive take on darkness and speaks of its many benefic. One of the things she does here is contrast “solar spirituality” with “lunar spirituality.” She says full solar spirituality “deals with darkness by denying its existence or at least depriving it of any meaningful attention” and “focuses on staying in the light of God around the clock, both absorbing and reflecting the sunny side of faith.” She goes on to say you can recognize a full solar church “by its emphasis on the benefits of faith, which include a sure sense of God’s presence, certainty of belief, divine guidance in all things, and reliable answers to prayer.” All of this sounds good on the surface but Taylor says what these churches seem to lack is the skill for operating in the dark—a darkness that invariably invades each of our lives.
Barbara Brown Taylor claims to lack the gift of solar spirituality and says her gift is, instead, “lunar spirituality, in which the divine light available to me waxes and wanes with the season.” She talks about how the moon changes shape constantly and as such “the moon is a truer mirror for my soul than the sun that looks the same way every day.” Things do not appear as clear or certain in a lunar spirituality but that does not mean it is any less real or genuine as solar spirituality. For many, me included, it just seems more true to my experience and to reality.
Taylor does a good job of exposing the benefits—spiritual, physical and emotion—of darkness. She is to be commended for tackling this subject; few would choose or dare to. In Learning to Walk in the Dark I find a model of the spiritual journey that resonates with my own experience. My life and spirit do not seem to be cut out for a solar spirituality. It is much more in tune with what Taylor calls lunar spirituality.
If you are someone more attuned to a solar spirituality you may question those who walk this different path. I hope you will be careful not to judge too quickly. In some ways it may take a greater faith to walk this path than those who walk in the sunlight. Regardless, both paths lead in the same direction. Here is the good news Barbara Brown Taylor offers: “even when light fades and darkness falls—as it does every single day, in every single life—God does not turn the world over to some other deity. Even when you cannot see where you are going and no one answers when you call, this is not sufficient proof that you are alone. …darkness is not dark to God; the night is as bright as the day.”
At one point Taylor asks, “If we turn away from the darkness on principle, doing everything we can to avoid it because there is no telling what it contains, isn’t there a chance that what we are running from is God?” Since many biblical characters, and the saints that have followed them, found or encountered God in the darkness we might, in fact, miss encountering the divine presence if we avoid the darkness at all cost. I hope you’ll think about that the next time you look up into the night sky or find yourself enveloped by the absence of light.
–Chuck
(I took the top image at Death Valley National Park and the bottom two in Henderson, KY.)
