THE SEASON OF EARTHKEEPING

As we move toward the Summer Solstice, the world around us seems to be doing its very best to get our attention.

The trees are full. The gardens are waking up. The days stretch long into the evening. Children are counting down the days until school is finished, and places like Camp Lau-Ren are preparing once again to welcome campers to the shore of the Ottawa River, where fresh air, friendship, campfires, swimming, canoeing, and time away from devices all become part of something deeper.

There is something wonderfully grounding about summer. It reminds us that faith is not only something we think about, talk about, or practice inside a church building. Faith also lives in the smell of the earth after rain, in the sound of children laughing outdoors, in the quiet of a river, in the shade of a tree, and in the simple act of paying attention.

This week’s reflection has a few announcements woven into it. That is intentional.

Sometimes the life of faith is not found in a single grand idea, but in the small invitations that appear around us: a camp open house, a community solstice gathering, a webinar, a lecture, a chance to listen, a chance to learn, a chance to show up.  I've included links and resources at the end, not simply as “things to put on the calendar,” but as opportunities to take part in the care of creation and community.

Because church is community. And community cares.

Community cares for children as they grow, explore, question, laugh, and discover who they are. Community cares for the land and water that sustain us. Community cares for neighbours, near and far. Community cares enough to listen to voices we may not have heard before. Community cares enough to learn, and sometimes to change.

This is a good season to remember that creation is not just the backdrop for our lives. It is part of God’s good gift to us, and we are part of it.

In the United Church’s A New Creed, we say that we are called “to live with respect in Creation.” That line can be easy to say, but it asks something real of us. It asks us to see the world not as a collection of resources, but as a sacred relationship. It asks us to remember that caring for the earth is not separate from loving our neighbours, because the health of the land, water, air, plants, animals, and people are all bound together.

That truth is also deeply connected to the phrase “All My Relations,” which we will hear in our community as Mississippi Mills All My Relations hosts its National Indigenous Peoples Day: Celebrating Solstice Together event in Almonte on June 20th. The event offers opportunities to paddle, listen, learn, share stories, enjoy music, meet Elders, and take part in activities rooted in relationship with land, water, culture, and community. It is a reminder that reconciliation is not only about history. It is also about how we live now, how we listen now, and how we honour the relationships that sustain life.

Later this month, A Rocha Canada is offering a webinar called What Does it Mean to be an Earthkeeping Church? That is a beautiful question for us to sit with.

What does it mean for a church to keep the earth?

It does not mean we have to solve everything at once. It does not mean we need to become experts overnight. Perhaps it begins more simply than that. Perhaps it begins with paying attention. With noticing what God has already placed around us. With giving thanks before we decide what to do next.

It may look like teaching our children that the natural world is not disposable. It may look like supporting places like Camp Lau-Ren, where young people can discover friendship, confidence, faith, and wonder outdoors. It may look like learning from Indigenous neighbours and Elders who remind us that land and water are not things, but relations. It may look like gathering for lectures, conversations, and community learning, such as the upcoming Linlathen Lecture through Windstone. It may look like small changes in our church life, our homes, our gardens, our habits, and our prayers.

Earthkeeping is not only about worry for what is wrong, though there is much to be concerned about. It is also about love for what is good.

It is hard to care for what we do not notice. It is hard to protect what we do not love. But summer has a way of opening our eyes again. The long light invites us outside. The green world invites us to wonder. The laughter of children reminds us that what we do now matters for those who come after us.

So perhaps this week, as the Solstice approaches, we might each take a little time to notice creation with gratitude. Take a walk. Sit under a tree. Listen to the birds. Watch the river. Smell the flowers. Give thanks for the children heading off to camp, for the volunteers who make those places possible, for the wisdom shared in our community, and for the God who is still creating, still healing, still calling us into relationship.

We are not alone.

We live in God’s world.