by Alexander Wimmer
Alexander is the Program and Policy Advisor for NRPE.
Alexander is the Program and Policy Advisor for NRPE.
Photo by John Dancy via Unsplash
In his encyclical on the environment, Laudato si’, Pope Francis sets out to “enter into dialogue with all people about our common home” (LS 3). Religious and political leaders around the world have drawn upon the message of Laudato si’ to call for increased institutional and international action around conservation, biodiversity protection, chemical pollution, and climate change. But the fact remains that Pope Francis addresses the words of this encyclical to the individual, not to the institution. At the heart of Laudato si’ is a call for individual conversion towards a new lifestyle that opposes a culture of self-centeredness and greed and “embarks on new paths to authentic freedom” (LS 205).
This conversion towards a new lifestyle must begin with contemplation. Pope Francis beautifully states that “the world is a joyful mystery to be contemplated with gladness and praise” (LS 12). In the United States, there is no shortage of beautiful landscapes to be contemplated, many of which are found within our National Parks.
My own journey towards a deeper contemplation of nature began during a trip to Shenandoah National Park with my brothers during the summer of 2015. On the first night, as the sun set over the Shenandoah Valley, I recall being filled with a great sense of peace. Later during that same trip, I was dismayed to overhear a father and son discussing their disappointment in Shenandoah. They were visiting from Colorado, and remarked that the grandeur of the awe-inspiring peaks in the Rocky Mountains far outweighed the less imposing beauty of the Appalachians. At the heart of their observation is a simple reality: the disarming beauty of certain landscapes draws us into awe much more easily than other landscapes, which we subsequently categorize as “less beautiful.”
A few years later, an old ranger at Everglades National Park spoke to this reality when he told me that “In the American West, God shouts at us through the grandeur of creation. In the Everglades, God whispers, and most of us never listen closely enough to hear.” The lofty heights of the western mountains may easily lift our hearts to contemplate the Creator, but this does not take away from the glory of God that is also hidden in the smaller, more unassuming parts of creation.
God does not always shout at us; sometimes He whispers. Recall 1 Kings 19:11-12, when the Lord passes by Elijah: “and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.” At the sound of the “still small voice,” Elijah arose to meet the Lord.
Pope Francis’ invitation to contemplate the “joyful mystery” of the world with gladness and praise requires a disposition towards hearing God whispering. Each leaf, blade of grass, and drop of water owes its existence to the Creator. The tiniest of creatures reflects the beauty of God in its own unique way, and scripture tells us that God is revealed through the beauty of the world (Wisdom 13:5). I pray that each of us will heed the words of the old ranger, and learn to listen closely enough to hear.
This conversion towards a new lifestyle must begin with contemplation. Pope Francis beautifully states that “the world is a joyful mystery to be contemplated with gladness and praise” (LS 12). In the United States, there is no shortage of beautiful landscapes to be contemplated, many of which are found within our National Parks.
My own journey towards a deeper contemplation of nature began during a trip to Shenandoah National Park with my brothers during the summer of 2015. On the first night, as the sun set over the Shenandoah Valley, I recall being filled with a great sense of peace. Later during that same trip, I was dismayed to overhear a father and son discussing their disappointment in Shenandoah. They were visiting from Colorado, and remarked that the grandeur of the awe-inspiring peaks in the Rocky Mountains far outweighed the less imposing beauty of the Appalachians. At the heart of their observation is a simple reality: the disarming beauty of certain landscapes draws us into awe much more easily than other landscapes, which we subsequently categorize as “less beautiful.”
A few years later, an old ranger at Everglades National Park spoke to this reality when he told me that “In the American West, God shouts at us through the grandeur of creation. In the Everglades, God whispers, and most of us never listen closely enough to hear.” The lofty heights of the western mountains may easily lift our hearts to contemplate the Creator, but this does not take away from the glory of God that is also hidden in the smaller, more unassuming parts of creation.
God does not always shout at us; sometimes He whispers. Recall 1 Kings 19:11-12, when the Lord passes by Elijah: “and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice.” At the sound of the “still small voice,” Elijah arose to meet the Lord.
Pope Francis’ invitation to contemplate the “joyful mystery” of the world with gladness and praise requires a disposition towards hearing God whispering. Each leaf, blade of grass, and drop of water owes its existence to the Creator. The tiniest of creatures reflects the beauty of God in its own unique way, and scripture tells us that God is revealed through the beauty of the world (Wisdom 13:5). I pray that each of us will heed the words of the old ranger, and learn to listen closely enough to hear.