Creation Season

My 7 year old granddaughter, Freya, loves nature.  She looks forward to planting flowers with me in the spring and when I’m looking for her, I can usually find her up in a tree.  She loves all kinds of animals but is especially drawn to tiny creatures: bugs, spiders and worms.  Her favorites are inch worms and jumping spiders.  If she finds a jumping spider she will bring it to me and say “Nana, Isn’t it cute.  (Personally, I have never used the words cute and spider in the same sentence.)  If she is not in a tree, she is crouched down looking at the earth. She talks to the tiny creatures that she finds, checking to see if they are okay.  Often, she brings one to me and says “Nana, it looks like it has lost a leg or a maybe a wing” or she say she may think it is lost or lonely.  She then will build it a habitat, she gathers leaves, trigs and moss and making sure it has water available she places an acorn top with water in its new home.

The other day she and I were walking down a sidewalk.  The sun was out and it was hot.  All of a sudden Freya stopped and said, “wait a minute”. She turned around and bent down.  “Look” she said, “it’s a worm” but then looking closer she said, “no it’s a slug”.  She said “it’s too hot on this concrete in the sun. It’s going to dry up.”  She reached and picked up a fallen leaf and placed it in front of the slug encouraging it to climb on.  She then placed the leaf with the slug on it in the cool green grass and we continued on our way.

I think Freya has learned something that many of us have forgotten. She knows how to stop. She knows how to look. She knows how to pay attention.

I thought about Freya when I read the story of Moses this week.

Moses is out tending his sheep when he sees something strange. He sees the burning bush and says “I must turn aside and look at this amazing sight…”  Moses says, “I must turn aside.” Freya says, “Wait a minute.” Both know how to stop and pay attention when something catches their eye.”.

I had a very different experience of creation recently. Several weeks ago Jan and I went on a cruise to Alaska.  It was our first time in that beautiful state. Part of our trip included three days driving through the interior of the state. I did not know how beautiful Alaska was.  The mountains, the lakes and rivers were all amazing.  It was so clean and pristine.  I had not expected to see so many flowers. What first struck me were the colors.  I really have a hard time putting it into words.  The green of the trees was the most beautiful green I had even seen.   Even the colors of the flowers were more vibrant then usual. I remember thinking that this is what God intended creation to look like.  It made me sad to think about how we have changed it.  

We saw lots of wildlife, orca and whales.  We even got to witness a bubble net feeding by a group of humpback whales. Unfortunately, we never saw a bear or a moose, but we did see lots of eagles, a very large rabbit, sea otter and a caribou.  At the glaciers we saw harbor seal riding on the chucks of ice floating in the ocean.  From our vantage point they looked like little sausages.

We did see Denali, which most of the time is hidden by clouds.  But at just the right time the clouds lifted, and we could see the peak.

At one look out point, we had a panoramic view of the beautiful snow caped mountains, a river and opened flat land.  This is where we saw the caribou.  He was at the edge of the place where our bus had parked. He came out and posed for pictures before wandering off.

I walked away from the group and went back to stand on the ridge to look one more time at the scene.  I suddenly felt overwhelmed by all that I was seeing.  I felt that I was in a thin place. I learned about thin places when I was in Ireland. They are sacred places where the physical world and the spiritual world seem to come together.  Where you feel you are especially close to God. Feeling this thin place now brought me to tears. I felt that God was right there with me, holding me and smiling at my tears, understanding my overwhelming feelings about creation.

My experience in Alaska was about as different as you can get from Freya crouched down on a sidewalk looking at a slug.

I had to travel all the way to Alaska where I became overwhelmed by nature.  Freya, just walking down the sidewalk, is fascinated by inchworms and jumping spiders.

But— I think we were both doing something very similar. We were paying attention and noticing. and we each found our thin places. Moses enters the wilderness and encounters his thin place, a place where the ordinary and the holy came close together.

Have you ever experienced a thin place? A place where you suddenly became aware of something more than yourself.  A place where you stopped, listened and were reminded that you belong to something larger.

I believe the world is full of thin places. Sometimes they're magnificent. Sometimes they're tiny. Sometimes they're breathtaking. Sometimes they're slimy. Sometimes they're covered in snow. Sometimes they're sitting on hot concrete.

But they're there and maybe our lesson is to take time to notice.  To turn.

Moses turns aside. Freya turns around. I walked away from the group.

Different circumstances. Same spiritual movement. Stop. Turn. and Look.

That's what God was asking Moses to do. Moses turned aside. He looked, he listened. And then God said, ‘Now go.’”

God is constantly putting holy moments in front of us. The question is whether we will stop long enough to notice them—and then what will we do.

God says to Moses:

“Remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.”

What if we lived as though all the world is holy ground? Not just Alaska. Not just the spectacular places or the places that make us cry. But the sidewalk, the garden, the tree. the creek, the patch of earth outside our door, the creature we almost stepped on, the people we fail to notice.  What if all of these are places where we can encounter holy ground?”.

Freya recognized that the slug's piece of ground was not okay.  The concrete was too hot and the slug was going to dry out. So, she changed its circumstances. She understood something very simple, that creatures need a habitat where they can flourish.

That’s what Paul was telling the Romans when he said, “Let love be genuine.” He then gave them a picture of what genuine love looks like: care for one another, contribute to one another's needs, practice hospitality, rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Paul is describing a kind of spiritual habitat—a community where people can flourish.

Freya moved the slug on its leaf to a place where it could flourish. She made its habitat more hospitable. Perhaps that is one way we bless God's creation—not by making it holy, but by recognizing the holiness that is already there and helping create places where life can flourish.”

Freya's love is genuine because she doesn't merely feel affection. She goes. She acts.

She sees something vulnerable and creates a safe and comfortable habitat.

Is our love genuine? What kind of habitat are we creating for God's creatures and for one another?

In the Gospel this morning we read that Jesus said, “What will it profit them if they gain the whole world but forfeit their life?” Perhaps Creation Season asks us to consider whether we have confused possessing the world with belonging to the world. We are creatures too.We are not outside creation, managing it from above. We are part of it. So perhaps the question isn't simply, “What can I get from creation?” It's, “How can I participate in God's work of helping creation flourish?”

So, as we begin this Creation Season, perhaps our invitation is simply to pay attention. When we're walking down the sidewalk and something makes us say, “Wait a minute”—stop. When something beautiful takes our breath away—stop. When we encounter something small and vulnerable—stop. When we see someone who is lonely or hurting—stop. Turn aside. Look. Listen. Because we may discover that we are standing on holy ground.

And once we recognize the holy ground beneath our feet, we know what comes next. Go. Act.

My granddaughter is seven years old. She sees something that needs her attention, and she goes. May we learn to do the same.