2025 Sun Sept 14

The Season of Creation is an optional season for the church year from Sept 1 through the feast day of St. Francis.

For the most part, the seasons of the church year follow the life of Jesus: Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, and Easter. The remainder of the church year encompasses Pentecost season (or Ordinary Time), which celebrates life in the Holy Spirit.

For centuries, our theology our theology has focused on relationship with God and our human relationships with one another. The Season of Creation focuses God’s relationship with all creation and with our relationship with creation (and with God through creation). It highlights our role in understanding and addressing address the ecological problems we face today as a part of God’s creation.

“Fun fact: planet Earth is 4.5 billion years old. Mankind? About 140,000 years old. Let me put that in perspective: If you condense the Earth’s lifespan into 24 hours, that’s one full day, then we have been here on this planet for… …drumroll please… …three seconds. Three seconds, and look what we’ve done….”

Prince Ea’s annotation for the video.

For centuries, our theology our theology has focused on relationship with God and our human relationships with one another. The Season of Creation focuses God’s relationship with all creation and with our relationship with creation (and with God through creation). It highlights our role in understanding and addressing address the ecological problems we face today as a part of God’s creation.

“Imagine a great circle. God encircles everything else in this circle.

Inside the circle is a second circle, and that circle is us. We human beings encircle the rest of creation, at the center of the circle. Look at the word, earth. If you move the letter “h” from the back of this word to the front, the word “earth” becomes the word “heart.”

We are going to look at 6 keys to the Season of Creation

1 God as Creator The Spirit of God moving over the face of the water created the earth. Creation is also on a journey,  it is ongoing constantly in a process of being made new. 

The Bible speaks of a God who is not passive or distant, but active and involved.  God here exercises divine power through peaceful means. God creates by the word “In the beginning, God designed a home, a home in which God dwells, a home in which God delights, a home which God calls good. The earth is God’s home…”Nothing goes to waste in this creation. All this creation has a purpose, and every bit of this creation depends on every other bit of creation.” 

I his letter to the Romans, right up front, Paul makes this statement.”Ever since the creation of the world, God’s eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things that God has made.

The goal in worship then is to deepen our understanding of God as Creator, to celebrate God’s role as Creator, and to examine and deepen and widen our own relationships with God, creation, and with one another. How are we impacting creation which God said was “good.”

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This week is individual and group mediations around creation.

Meditations on climate change offer a rich opportunity to weave together Scripture, the Book of Common Prayer, and the Anglican tradition’s emphasis on stewardship of Creation. These meditations are designed to foster reflection, lament, hope, and action.

Framing

These meditations to our Baptismal Covenant, where we promise to “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being,” which can be extended to all of God’s Creation.

1. Individual Meditations

These are designed for personal prayer time, perhaps in a quiet space at home, in a garden, or before a church service.

Example 1: A Meditation on Romans 8 (Lectio Divina Style)

Lectio Divina (“Divine Reading”) is an ancient practice of praying with Scripture.

Preparation: Find a quiet place. Light a candle to symbolize the light of Christ. Take a few deep breaths to center yourself. Read the passage slowly, three times.

Scripture: “For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now.” – Romans 8:19-22

1. Read (Lectio): Read the passage aloud slowly. What single word or phrase stands out to you? Don’t analyze it; just notice it. Perhaps it’s “eager longing,” “bondage to decay,” or “groaning in labor pains.” Sit with that word or phrase for a moment.
2. Reflect (Meditatio): Read the passage again. Now, engage your mind. How does this passage connect to what you see in the world?
• Where do you see Creation “groaning”? (e.g., in wildfires, melting glaciers, species extinction).
• What does it mean for Creation to wait for the “revealing of the children of God”? What is our role in that revealing?
• How does the idea of “labor pains” reframe climate anxiety not just as death, but as the difficult birth of something new?
3. Respond (Oratio): Read the passage a third time. Now, respond to God in prayer.
• Offer a prayer of lament for the ways humanity has subjected Creation to futility.
• Offer a prayer of intercession for vulnerable communities, ecosystems, and species.
• Offer a prayer of hope, asking God to help you live as a “child of God” who participates in Creation’s liberation.
4. Rest (Contemplatio): Sit in silent communion with God. Rest in the knowledge that God is with us and with all Creation in its groaning. Release your thoughts and simply be in God’s presence.

Example 2: A Sensory Meditation on Stewardship

This meditation uses a physical object to ground the prayer.

Preparation: Go outside and find a natural object: a stone, a fallen leaf, a bit of soil, a flower. If you are indoors, hold a small glass of water.

1. Acknowledge God’s Handiwork: Hold the object in your hands. Contemplate its texture, weight, temperature, and complexity. Consider the immense journey of time and the intricate processes that led to its existence. Say a prayer of praise from the BCP (p. 88/136): “We praise you, Lord, for the splendor of the whole creation, for the beauty of this world, for the wonder of life, and for the mystery of love.”
2. Confess Our Role: Continue to hold the object. Reflect on how human actions have impacted this small piece of Creation and the system it represents.
• If holding a leaf: Consider deforestation, air pollution, and acid rain.
• If holding a stone: Consider destructive mining, quarrying, and the extraction that fuels our consumption.
• If holding water: Consider plastic pollution, chemical runoff, and the commodification of this life-giving gift.
• Pray a silent prayer of confession, for your own complicity and for our collective sin against Creation. “Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone… especially in our failure to be faithful stewards of the world you have given us.”
3. Commit to Action: Look at the object one last time. What is one small, concrete action you can take this week to honor God’s gift of Creation and protect it from further harm? (e.g., reduce single-use plastic, write to an elected official, eat a plant-based meal). Ask God for the strength and grace to fulfill this commitment. Close with the Lord’s Prayer.

1. Group Meditations

These are designed for a small group, a formation class, or a special service. They are more interactive and communal.

Example 1: A Litany for Creation

This can be done in a service, with a leader and the people responding. The response can be spoken or sung.

Leader: Let us pray for God’s Creation, for the earth our home. In the midst of beauty and splendor, we give you thanks, O God. For the soaring mountains and the depths of the sea, People: We thank you, Lord.

For the vibrant forest and the quiet desert, People: We thank you, Lord.

For the song of the bird and the buzz of the bee, People: We thank you, Lord.

Leader: In the midst of suffering and degradation, we cry out to you, O God. For the warming oceans and the acid seas, People: Lord, have mercy.

For the burning forests and the thirsty lands, People: Lord, have mercy.

For the creatures driven from their homes and the people displaced by drought and flood, People: Lord, have mercy.

For our greed, our wastefulness, and our indifference to the groaning of Creation, People: Lord, have mercy.

Leader: In the midst of hope and challenge, we offer ourselves to you, O God. For scientists, engineers, and planners working for a sustainable future, People: Strengthen their hands, O God.

For activists and advocates who speak truth to power, People: Embolden their voices, O God.

For farmers, gardeners, and all who till the soil with care and reverence, People: Bless their work, O God.

Leader: Grant us the courage to change our habits, the conviction to seek justice, and the faith to be co-workers in your renewal of all things. Give us hopeful hearts, that we may see in the pains of this present age the birth of a new heaven and a new earth, through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. People: Amen.

Example 2: A “Stations of Creation” Walking Meditation

This can be done outdoors on the church grounds or indoors with images at different “stations.”

Facilitator: “We walk today to remember our connection to the earth and to pray for its healing. As we walk, let us do so with reverence and attention.”

• Station 1: Gratitude (at a large tree or beautiful garden).
• Read Genesis 1:31a: “God saw everything that he had made, and indeed, it was very good.”
• Prompt: “Spend a few moments in silence, giving thanks for one specific, beautiful thing you see right now.”
• Prayer: Leader: “Creator of all, we give you thanks for the beauty of this place.” All: “And for the goodness of all you have made.”
• Station 2: Lament (at a storm drain, parking lot, or trash receptacle).
• Read Hosea 4:1, 3: “There is no faithfulness or loyalty, and no knowledge of God in the land… Therefore the land mourns, and all who live in it languish; together with the wild animals and the birds of the air, even the fish of the sea are perishing.”
• Prompt: “Look at this sign of human impact. Let us silently acknowledge the harm we have caused, the waste we have created, and the ways we have broken our covenant with Creation.”
• Station 3: Intercession (looking out towards the wider community).
• Read Amos 5:24: “But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”
• Prompt: “Let us bring to mind the people most impacted by environmental injustice—the poor, marginalized communities, and future generations. We will now have a moment of open prayer.” (Allow people to voice short prayers for specific people or places).
• Station 4: Commitment (at the church doors).
• Read a selection from the Baptismal Covenant (BCP, p. 305), asking: “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?”
• Response: All: “I will, with God’s help.”
• Prompt: “Before we re-enter our church, a place of renewal and commissioning, let us each make a silent, personal commitment to one action we will take on behalf of God’s Creation this week.”
• Closing Prayer: All: “Grant, O God, that we may be living gateways of your love and care, passing from this time of prayer into a life of action, for the healing of the earth and the glory of your name. Amen.”

The following is an excerpt from Braiding Sweetgrass for Young Adults: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer. Facing History & Ourselves, “An Offering” from Braiding Sweetgrass  for Young Adults”, last updated July 26, 2024.

“Our people were canoe people. Until they made us walk. Until our lakeshore lodgers were signed away for shanties and dust. Our people were a circle, until we were dispersed. Our people shared a language with which to thank the day, until they made us forget. But we didn’t forget. Not quite.

“Gods of Tahawus

“Our family spent summer canoe camping in the Adirondacks, and every day began with my father pumping the tank on the Coleman stove for the morning coffee.

“I can picture my father, in his red-checked wool shirt, standing atop the rocks above the lake. When he lifts the coffeepot from the stove, the morning activity stops. We know, without being told, that it’s time to pay attention. He stands at the edge of camp with the coffeepot in his hand and pours coffee onto the ground in a thick brown stream. My father lifts his face to the morning sun and speaks into the stillness, “Here’s to the gods of Tahawus.” The stream of coffee runs down oar smooth granite to merge with the lake water. Then and only then does he pour out steaming cups of coffee for himself and my mother. So begins each morning in the north woods. Gratitude, the words that come before all else.

“I never questioned the source of those words, and my father never explained. They were just part of our life among the lakes. But their rhythm made me feel at home, and the ceremony drew a circle around our family. By those words, we said, “Here we are.” I imagined that the land heard us and murmured to herself, “Oh, here are the ones who know how to say thank you.”

“Tahawus is the Algonquin name for Mount Marcy, the highest peak in the Adirondacks. It’s called Mount Marcy to commemorate a governor who never set foot on those wild slopes. Tahawus, “the Cloud Splitter,” is the true name, invoking their essential nature. Among our Potawatomi people, there are public names and true names. My father had been on Tahawus’s summit many times, and he knew it well enough to call them by name. I imagined that this beloved place knew my true name as well, even when I myself did not. When we call a place by name, it is transformed from wilderness to homeland.

“Do you know the Indigenous names of the places you live? If not, how can you find out?

“Sometimes my father would name the gods of Forked Lake or South Pond or Brandy Brook Flow, wherever our tents settled for the night. I came to know that each place was home to others before we arrived and long after we left. As he called out the names and offered a gift, the first coffee, he quietly taught us the respect we owed these other beings.

“I knew that in the long ago times our people raised their thanks in morning songs, in prayer, and in the offering of sacred

“ tobacco. But at that time, my family didn’t have sacred tobacco and we didn’t know the songs. They’d been taken away from my grandfather at the doors of Carlisle Indian Industrial School.

“My mother also had a ritual of respect. Before we paddled away from any sampling place, we had to make sure it was clean. “Leave this place better than you found it,” she reminded us. We also had to leave wood for the next person’s fire, with tinder and kindling carefully sheltered from rain by a sheet of birch bark. I liked to imagine their pleasure, those other paddlers, arriving after dark to find a ready pile of fuel to warm their evening meal. My mother’s ceremony connected us to them too.

“On Sundays, when other kids went to church, my family would go out along the river to look for herons and muskrats or to the woods to hunt for spring flowers or on picnics. The words came along. This time, the pot was full of bubbling tomato soup, and the first drink poured was for the snow. “Here’s to the gods of Tahawus”—only then would we wrap mittened hands around our steaming cups. These offerings were made only under an open sky and never back in town where we lived.

“Ceremony

“As I grew to adolescence, the offerings began to leave me angry or sad. I heard in the words a message that we did not belong because we spoke English and that ours was a secondhand ceremony. Somewhere there were people who knew the right ceremony. People who knew the lost language and spoke the true names, including my own.

“In the same way that the flow of coffee down the rock opened the leaves of the moss, ceremony brought the dormant back to life. Ceremony opened my mind and heart to what I knew but had forgotten. The words and the coffee called us to remember that these woods and lakes are a gift. Ceremonies large and small have the power to focus attention to a way of living gratefully and awake in the world. It may have been a secondhand ceremony, but even through my confusion, I recognized that the earth drank it up as if it were right. The land knows you, even when you are lost.

“A people’s story moves along like a canoe caught in the current, being carried closer and closer to where we began. As I grew up, my family found our tribal connections that had been frayed—but never broken—by history. We found the people who knew our true names. And in Oklahoma, when I first heard the sending of thanks to the four directions at the sunrise lodge—the offering in the old language of the sacred tobacco—I heard it as if in my father’s voice. The language was different, but the heart was the same.

“Ours was a solitary ceremony but fed from the same bond with the land, founded on respect and gratitude. Ceremony is a vehicle for belonging—to a family, to a people, and to the land.

“Now the circle drawn around is bigger, encompassing a people to which we again belong. But still, the offering says, “Here we are.”

“Still, I hear at the end of the words the land murmuring to herself, “Oh, here are the ones who know how to say thank you.”

“Today, my father can speak his prayer in our language. But it was “Here’s to the gods of Tahawus,” that came first, in the voice that I will always hear.

“At last, I thought that I understood the offering to the gods of Tahawus. It was, for me, the one thing that was not forgotten, that which could not be taken by history. The knowing that we belonged to the land, that we were the people who knew how to say thank you. Years later, I asked my father, “Where did the ceremony come from? Did you learn it from your father and he from his? Did it stretch all the way back to the time of the canoes?”

“He thought for a long time. “No, I don’t think so. It’s just what we did. It seemed right.” That was all, or so it seemed.

“Weeks later, when we spoke again, my dad shared, “I’ve been thinking about the coffee and how we started giving it to the ground. You know, it was a boiled coffee and there’s no filter. If it boils too hard, the grounds foam up and get stuck in the spout. The first cup you pour would get that plug of grounds and be spoiled, I think we first did it to clear the spout.” The whole web of gratitude and the whole story of remembrance was nothing more than the dumping of the grounds?

““But, you know,” he continued, “there weren’t always grounds to clear. It started out that way, but it became something else. A thought. A kind of respect. A form of thanks. On a beautiful morning, I supposed you could call it joy.”

“That, I think, is the power of ceremony: it marries the mundane to the sacred. The coffee to a prayer. What else can you offer the earth, which has everything? What else can you give but something of yourself? A homemade ceremony, a ceremony that makes a home.

Credit Line: From Braiding Sweetgrass for Young Adults: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants by Robin Wall Kimmerer. Text © 2022 by Lerner Publishing Group. Illustrations © 2022 by Nicole Neidhardt.