From the Garden to the City

The very first page of the Catechism of the Catholic Church, in words so simple that we are apt to overlook them, reminds us what it means to be a Christian. We are, in fact, to be so seized with the love of Christ, it says, that we are impelled to proclaim the Good News throughout the world, to pass it on from generation to generation, to live it by sharing with others, and to celebrate its wonders in prayer and liturgy [3]. Claiming the title of Christian means nothing less than being so taken by the love of Christ that all that we are and all that we do reflects this love. The Catechism would like to help us to live up to this name.

When the Catechism first appeared in French, I began to explore it, and I must say that my first plunge was rather disappointing. I turned to the subject index to look up all those questions that are so much a part of my day-to-day work at the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace: social teaching of the Church, disarmament, environment, human rights, and so forth. None of them is even in the index. How could this be?

But the words of the Catechism indicated above had become an invitation to go further: to seize the unique opportunity to look with new eyes at an “organic and synthetic” presentation of the Good News that knows no boundaries of time nor geographical space [11]. So I began quietly to meditate, to reflect, and to react – generally very positively – to the Catechism. Slowly, but with growing wonder, I began to unfold what has become for me its key: truths that are at the heart of our faith and which condition every aspect of our life, and yet which can so easily be overlooked. I have seen, as never before, that from the first moment of creation to the “new creation” of the last days, we are urged by the love of God to love all of creation, just as we are called to become one with God and with all other persons.

And so I should like to walk quietly with you from the Garden of the first creation to the time of the new Jerusalem coming down from the heavens, reflecting together on the fundamental social exigencies of our faith. While, for the most part, I shall not refer directly to the Catechism, I shall let it lead us in our search not only for unity in God and with our neighbor, who may be right beside us or far across the world, but also with all of creation.

It is in following this path that I discovered in the Catechism all those problems that crowd in on us today: war and peace, ecology, human rights, development. Our unity in God and with all others is, in fact, what urges us to promote the good of God’s creation and to reject whatever harms any part of it.

From the first moment of creation

“Once upon a time.” There is something about these words that hold a special fascination for us, even as adults. They speak of a time of innocence, but also of evil, of a past that is no more, but which yet remains still with us in some mysterious way. And so it is with the creation accounts. However, the “once upon a time” of the fairy tale becomes the “in the beginning” of Genesis. We know we are about to hear something that only the Creator could tell us. We are, in fact, going to listen to God’s very first self-revelation.

What do we hear? First of all that God freely willed to create the universe and all that it contains, and that “he saw that it was good.” This simple refrain is repeated five times as each element of creation is progressively fitted into place. But then comes the sixth day. “then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over… all the earth.’ And so God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him, male and female he created them.” And God looked at all that he had made and “indeed it was very good.” The creation of the human person had completed God’s plan, and he could now rest from the work of creation. 

These rapid considerations have already taken us far. Creation belongs to God. This creation is one of goodness, of beauty. Its very diversity heightens this beauty in all of its multiple relations [341]. Everything is created with its own nature, with its own place. Yet all is interdependent and forms a harmonious whole.

The sun and the moon, the cedar and the tiny flower, the eagle and the sparrow: the spectacle of their countless diversities and inequalities tell us that no creature is self-sufficient. Creatures exist only in dependence on each other, to complete each other, in the service of each other [340].

There is a true solidarity among all creatures, simply because they are all from God’s hand: all are ordered to God’s glory [344].

Yet we know, one creature stands out from among the rest: the human person, created in relationship, created in the image and likeness of the Creator. The human person alone is given a responsibility: that for the rest of creation. This responsibility does not, however, make the human person any less dependent on the rest of creation. Indeed, no one could exist without it.

Again and again, the Catechism reminds us that creation is good, calling it a serious mistake to deny it. Creation shares in the very goodness of God. It is a gift, an inheritance entrusted to our care [299]. To care for creation, we must respect the particular goodness of every creature and avoid “any disordered use of things that would be in contempt of the Creator and would bring disastrous consequences for human beings and their environment” [339].

To believe in God therefore has immense personal and social consequences [222]. If we live this belief, not only shall we live in thanksgiving; we shall know the unity and true dignity of all peoples [225]. We shall also use all created things well [226].

The time of redemption

The redemption of all of creation runs like a golden thread through the accounts of the New Testament. In Colossians, we read Christ “reconciled to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.” Or again, in Christ, God has made known his will: “to unite all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth.” The Catechism speaks of Christ having restored peace to the entire universe [624]. There is an essential link between Christ’s redeeming sacrifice, reconciliation and peace throughout the universe.

Yet, we are witnesses daily that all is not at peace, that all is not fully redeemed. We remain capable of sin, and the rest of creation suffers from it. Moreover, nature itself is not always benign. As the well-known passage of Romans states, “creation awaits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God… because the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God”.

Creation, moreover, is not complete. It is “on the way” towards its fulfillment [302]. We remain responsible: to complete “the work of creation, to perfect its harmony” for our own good and that of others [307]. All persons, in one way or another, share this duty. We can, and indeed we must, make that conscious choice to become “God’s fellow workers”, or “collaborators”, as other translations would have it [307]. We can also refuse to do so. Just as we cannot forget that creation is good, we cannot overlook that we are wounded [407], that we can willfully harm creation.

The eighth day

The Catechism reminds us that the burial of Christ is the parallel of the great Sabbath rest of God after the first creation. His resurrection initiates the eighth day, that of the new creation, the splendor of which goes far beyond that of the first [349]. This is our time. And in it, the call to collaborate in the renewal of creation becomes more imperative, still more urgent than before. The day after the eighth day is, in fact, the end of time.

But something is radically changed: we are not alone. Standing on a mountain in Galilee, even while some still doubted, Jesus promised that he would be with us to the end of time. “Lo, I am with you always, to the close of the age.” And in the most intimate setting of the Eucharistic meal, Jesus promised us the Spirit who would remind us of all that Jesus had said. Significantly enough, the next phrase in the text speaks of peace: “Peace, I leave you, my peace I give you.” The Spirit is with us; the gift of Christ’s peace is now ours.

These two gifts are actually one; the Spirit will transform the first creation, and God will dwell with us in peace [715]. Peace, unity, reconciliation, transformation for all of creation: different facets of the same truth. The new creation is a shining manifestation of the Trinity, already mysteriously at work at the time of the first creation.

Until these new heavens and new earth in which justice dwells are accomplished, the pilgrim Church – that is all of us – belongs to the present age. The Church, as all else, bears the mark of this gassing world, and takes her place among the creatures which groan and travail and await the revelation of the sons of God [671].

And so we must continue our work of developing, creating, and interacting with the rest of creation. The wonders of human creativity, the tremendous advances of science, of medicine, of technology are, however, tragically counter-balanced by the horrors of war, of poverty, of injustice, of environmental degradation. We are caught in the mid-times: redeemed and yet sinner, called to be one and yet broken, longing for God and yet turning our back on others. At the same time, we profess to believe that everything — prayer, worship, sacraments, work, and rest — all tend towards God, to the fulfillment of his plan for creation, of which we are a privileged part. Remains far too often the need to translate this belief into action.

The end times

When will this new creation be fulfilled?  It is not given to us to know. Yet, says the Catechism, “far from diminishing our concern to develop this earth, the expectancy of a new earth should spur us on” [1049]. When the last day is here, will we finally be able to go back to the Garden?  No, not at all. Rather, looking ahead, looking up, we shall see a city, the holy city of Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God. In this city, this new creation, there is no need for sun or moon, for the glory of God is its light. The tree of life will grow in its midst yielding its fruit each month, and night shall be no more, for the Lord will be our light. The world will finally be restored to its first state. Garden or city, all will be in harmony. All will participate in the glorification of the just in the Risen Christ [1047].

This brief walk from the Garden to the City would be incomplete without a short reflection on those who walk with us. If care and respect should be the hallmark of our relations with the rest of creation, how much more so should this be true for all that concerns God’s very family. How much respect and care we should have for one another. Actually, we all resemble one another. Try as we will, we cannot escape our kinship. The word “care”, I just discovered, actually comes from the Old English meaning “akin to”!  We are all — every one of us — created in the image and likeness of God — the rich, the poor; the saint, the sinner; the peace lover and the violent one. At times, that image is deformed, hard to see: it has become both a troubled and troubling image. Yet, it is there. Is it perhaps we who are blind to it?

The poorer and the weaker members of the family bear this image with pride. Christ so identified himself with them that should we refuse them water, clothes, the comfort of our presence, we are turning our back on Christ. The Catechism states it baldly: “Our Lord warns us that we shall be separated from him if we fail to meet the serious needs of the poor and little ones who are his brethren” [1033]. These are profoundly troubling words; today’s world hardly allows us to forget them even in the media’s selectivity as to what human tragedies it will let us momentarily see. Or again, in reflecting on the Our Father, the Catechism reminds us that:

The drama of hunger in the world calls Christians who pray sincerely effectively to exercise responsibility towards their brethren, both in their personal behavior and in their solidarity with the human family. [Give us this day our daily bread.]  This petition of the Lord’s Prayer cannot be isolated from the parable of poor Lazarus and from the Last Judgment [2831].

I cannot even pray the Our Father in truth if I do not effectively act to relieve the hunger of the beggar in the street, of the starving in Bosnia, of those thousands and thousands who simply do not have enough to eat.

The pilgrim Church that we are must walk the path of poverty, of service, of sacrifice even unto death [852]. Paradoxically, we are at one and the same time a royal people, a glorious people, yet called to serve God especially to the poor and suffering [786]. God’s categories are certainly not ours. In fact, we must also remember that everything we possess is common to all. Our task is nothing more than to administer the goods of the Lord [952].

The Catechism quotes a passage from St. Augustine that bears reflection. At the time of the Last Judgment, God will say to some:

Would that you had know that my little ones were in need when I placed them on earth for you and appointed them your stewards to bring your good works into my treasury. But you have placed nothing in their hands; therefore you have found nothing in my presence [1039].

This is a very sober thought in the midst of Lent.

And so, we started in the Garden, which we are asked to cultivate with care and respect, and we set out towards the City: the symbol par excellence of “the work of human hands.” All along the way, I have consistently referred to the Catechism, but, with a single exception, to only one part of it: The Profession of Faith, that is to the first part in which the Creed is explained article by article. I simply followed a thread which I had discovered, that of respect and care for all of creation. Meditating slowly on what we profess in our Credo, I found what I had first hastily looked for without success in the index of the Catechism: how to address those problems which so brutally tear apart our society today. The answer is there from the very moment that I profess that I believe in God. It is there when I state my belief in life everlasting. There remains the challenge of addressing the social problems we face for what they are: affronts to God, affronts to God’s image, affronts to all that God has made. These three aspects cannot be separated. Is not God all in all?

Sister Marjorie Keenan, RSHM, Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace. 2000. Care for Creation: Human Activity and the Environment. Vatican City

Religious of the Sacred Heart of Mary for 67 years; taught in Marymount School, Neuilly, France; general secretary of the RSHM; worked in Justice and Peace office of the Leadership Conference of Women Religious; secretary/ treasurer of the World Conference on Religion and Peace/USA. A member of the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace, she was an observer with Holy See Delegation to the United Nations and a senior staff member in the Council’s permanent secretariat in the Vatican.

Copyright © 2000 Libreria Editrice Vaticana