On the final day of the forty days of prayer inaugurating the "Laudato Si' Action Platform" (a great idea, despite its clunky name!), fifteen religious sisters and brothers gathered together at our place for prayer and friendship.
Tasmania, well known for both its beauty and climatic temperamentality, did not disappoint on either front: between blustery showers of driving rain-tending-to-snow (which fell copiously later that night) and sudden outbursts of glorious sunshine (the photo is tendered as evidence), we prayed: we invoked the Holy Spirit with a song ("Come Down, O Love Divine"), we used Pope Francis' words of prayer from the Laudato Si' encyclical; we listened to the Gospel of the day (Mark 13:24-32); we sat in silence and listened to the Word stir in our hearts and minds and souls; we heard the Gospel again, and responded with a word shared (as the Spirit moved us to do so); concluded with another song (this one sung for us via a recording by the sisters and brothers of Bose, "Cantico delle Creature" / Canticle of Creatures, St Francis' own composition) followed by the planting of an olive tree in what will be the "Laudato Si' Garden at Emmaus". The photo above was taken (per kind favour of Br John-Joseph of the Little Eucharistic Brothers) after the planting of the olive tree and just prior to an afternoon tea.
The olive tree is an ancient symbol of friendship, peace and the "Noahic Covenant" — the first of several covenants in the scriptures. This one is particularly apposite to our gathering, because it was the covenant between God and all creatures after "The Flood", in which God promises never to deluge the world again.
The Flood Story, of course, is a parable about the effects of human stupidity, violence and infidelity "flooding" the world with the consequences. The "Flood" is a harsh lesson. Let us learn from it! It is certainly NOT God's will for us and our world. The Noahic Covenant is there to remind us, in the words of the Book of Wisdom:
Do not invite death by a life prone to error, nor incur destruction by the works of your hands. God did not make death, nor does he delight in the death of the living. He created all things so that they might have existence, and the creatures of the world engender life. (Wisdom 1:12-14)
Let that inspired piece of ancient Jewish wisdom find a deep echo in every heart and mind and policy that looks at our world and asks: How do we fulfil our God-given task of stewardship within this, our Common Home, and work of the Creator's hand?
The answer to that, whatever else it may be, must also surely be one with the question:
‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ (Matthew 25:37-39)
How we treat the poorest of our sisters and brothers is also how we treat the earth and vice versa. The cry of the poor and the cry of the earth is one. And so must be our response.
This is not about ideology or "political correctness" or "virtue signalling". It is about God in Christ, in the poor and in creation. It is about our fidelity to the Gospel as followers of Christ; to living our evangelical counsels ("vows") as consecrated persons; and it is about our fidelity to "the least of these, my brothers and sisters" who are Christ's own real, concrete and urgent presence among us.
Come down, O Love divine, seek thou this soul of mine, and visit it with thine own ardor glowing; O Comforter, draw near, within my heart appear, and kindle it, thy holy flame bestowing. O let it freely burn till earthly passions turn to dust and ashes in its heat consuming; and let thy glorious light shine ever on my sight, and clothe me round, the while my path illuming. Let holy charity mine outward vesture be, and lowliness become my inner clothing; true lowliness of heart which takes the humbler part, and o'er its own shortcomings weeps with loathing. And so the yearning strong with which the soul will long shall far surpass the power of human telling; for none can guess its grace till we become the place wherein the Holy Spirit makes his dwelling.
(Bianco da Siena, c.1350–1399)
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