A Discussion on Kathryn Tanner’s Contribution to Eco-Theology

This week’s chapter was a discussion of Kathryn Tanner’s contribution to eco-theology, which ended up raising many more questions than we could possibly begin to answer. The overall theme was that God in not in competition with the earth. He is non-contrastive and non-competitive in his relationship with the earth, which is something that strengthens his divine transcendence. Also it is important to note that in regards to salvation, finitude is something to be overcome by the work of Christ, but from an ecological perspective it is finitude and death that create a path for new creation and new life. Our discussion seemed to revolve primarily around these two points and challenges were raised that called into question much of how we perceive our existence as humans.

So what is our relationship with the earth? As humans, how are we to manage this planet that we live on and how do we view ourselves in relation to it? As Christians we are commanded to be “stewards” of the land. But what exactly does that mean? According to Carbine and Koster, Tanner is determined that our relationship with the earth as humans depends upon how we view God’s relationship with the earth. For example, if we believe that God is a distant ruler that is only concerned with humanity, we as humans will follow in that pattern, dominating and exploiting. However, if we believe that God is present and deeply involved in the ground and nature on which we stand, then our way of interacting with the world will follow. If this last statement is true, then it becomes incredibly important of just how involved God is with his creation we believe him to be. Is the earth caring for us and feeding us, supporting us with oxygen, water, and food, all the things that are essential for our survival? Or is the earth, this thing that we are meant to be stewards of trying to kill us with hurricanes and tsunamis, volcanic eruptions?

I honestly don’t believe that an answer to that question even matters. Can we hold the violence of the earth as well as the provision and care that is given to us as beings that live on this planet. We are creatures, created beings, no higher up on the “chain of being” than any other creature. It’s true that we have special capabilities that other creatures do not have, so perhaps that is where our stewardship piece comes into play. But to think that we are so much higher above every other creature on this planet and we are meant to subdue it can so easily lead to an abuse of power that God has gifted to us. We have a difference of creatures amongst creatures, nothing more.

It is at this point that I begin to think about the incarnation of Christ and it’s implications. Christ, as fully divine and fully human, means that God became of this earth. He, even in the most transcendent way that we imagine him, became the very atoms that comprise our very own bodies. Nitrogen, oxygen, carbon. God, through Christ, became the very thing that is us and the universe. That takes my breath away. It is beautifully embodied and something that I can cling to, something that feels much more at home in my body than a God who is distant, all powerful, and all knowing. But, to push back on that point, does an embodied and molecular God mean that we lose our particularity? What about our souls? If God is in every atom, the ingredients for our life, what then separates me from a fruit fly?

The only negative critique of Kathryn Tanner’s contribution to ecotheology was in reference to our finite nature as something to be overcome by salvation in Christ. The question raised was why is finitude is cast in such a negative light? It is a fact that on this earth our finiteness and events that we perceive as tragic often leads to life and new creation. Forest fires clear the ground for new trees to grow. Decomposition leads to new ecosystems. Death ushers in new life. Carbine and Koster insist that it is our refusal to accept the limitations of our finite nature that lead to our domination and exploitation of the earth. If we could instead accept this idea of a deeper incarnation, one that includes natural processes that we tend to interpret as senseless and violent, it would mean that this incarnate God is in fact participating in the suffering that we endure. He is the ever present gift giver that is continually bearing the cost of new life. He is not immune to the pain of our finite condition. From this point of view, my finite existence is possible to endure and even cherish if I have a God that is right in the thick of it with me. It is in an embodied and intimately involved God that I find comfort and hope, even in the midst of loss and grief because maybe He is feeling it with me as well.