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How does a deeper knowledge of place better equip and enable us to fulfill our call to stewardship?
Last spring, a sign suddenly appeared on the side of the road along our daily commute, ominously declaring that “CONSTRUCTION STARTS TOMORROW.” Upon a little investigation, we learned that the bridge we travelled over every day was going to be closed to traffic for many months, so that improvements could be made to the substructure. As a civil engineer, I approved, but as a commuter, this posed a problem.
I began to contemplate a new route. Suddenly, the rivers that separate here from there seemed to rear up and reclaim their rightful place as topographic barriers, unforgiving terrain that needed to be considered carefully. Pioneer-like, I plotted out the least inhibiting place to cross. As I tentatively drew a new squiggly-line commute, I found that I was asking questions about the local terrain.
Where exactly do those two rivers meet? What does that mean for the watershed of this area, especially the creek that runs right by my house? How does the land use change as the topography varies in this area? How has recent flooding impacted all of this? I was led to investigate many environmental features and connections that I am sorry to say I had not given a good amount of consideration before this imposed inconvenience.
Learning about the natural environment is one way to increase the level of connection we feel to our places. Increased knowledge and understanding often lead to a greater measure of attentiveness and commitment. When we are open to learning about the physical place we call home, we start to claim it, not in a proprietary sense, but in a sense of feeling a greater level of responsibility, care, and belonging. As we get to know a place, we are better equipped and able to fulfill our call to stewardship, caring for and unfolding creation in ways that are responsible and sustainable.
Cultivating connection to place isn’t limited to ecology; we can also seek to understand the cultural, historical, economic, or other contexts of our places. As we do, we’ll also start to see how each of these aspects is interwoven with the others. This can happen in a variety of avenues but requires us to remain open and to take the risk of being an amateur, a beginner. Participating in community life, walking and observing, listening to stories or studying local literature are all complementary ways to get to know a place well. These practices will lead to a sense of mutual respect and care, giving meaning to our work and weight to our decisions.
As we seek to know our places well, we can take encouragement and inspiration from Jeremiah’s letter to the exiles, in which he instructs those who feel uprooted and discouraged to “build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce” (Jeremiah 29:5). Even in a time of distress and displacement, God directs His people to build houses, to stop living like temporary refugees and to establish homes and a sense of normalcy. Further, the task of planting gardens allows God’s people to invest in their future and contribute to their communities while adapting to their new environment. We see that even in difficult times and places, we can find ways to do the good work of building houses and planting gardens, putting down roots and living in hope, trusting in God and his timing.
As we get to know a place, we are better equipped and able to fulfill our call to stewardship, caring for and unfolding creation in ways that are responsible and sustainable.
Wendell Berry, one of the chorus of poets that are continually reminding us to pay attention, says, “There are no unsacred places; There are only sacred places and desecrated places.[1]” All of creation belongs to God and is worthy of our attention and respect. We must be able to see the sacredness of where we are so that roots can grow, increasing our sense of belonging and stability and providing a strong foundation for making faithful decisions as we work together to bring forth the kingdom. Often, this happens over time, seasons or years of intentionally observing and forging connections. If we embrace a practice of life-long learning and allow ourselves to be fully integrated into a community and a place, our actions and decisions begin to carry weight for ourselves as well as our neighbors. Recognizing this interdependence helps us to live holistically, honoring and respecting local knowledge, limits, and generational wisdom.
If we are willing to know our place well, we will be motivated by our love of that place and its people, despite any shortcomings we may perceive. We will start to allow people and a place to expect things from us. We will be better equipped to act as stewards and will build homes that become lights to our communities, where God’s love is made visible in everyday life. We will embrace the humility of living within limits. The Kingdom of God is near, and cultivating connection to place enriches and guides us as we live and participate in God’s transformative work.
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Footnotes:
[1] Berry, W. (2001). How to be a poet (to remind myself). Poetry, 177(1), 12. Retrieved from https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/41087/how-to-be-a-poet