Fellowship

"O God, enlarge within us the sense of fellowship with all living things, our little brothers to whom Thou hast given this earth as their home in common with us. May we realize that they live not for us alone, but for themselves and for Thee, and that they love the sweetness of life even as we, and serve Thee better in their place than we in ours."

- St. Basil the Great

It always saddens me when I see a child purposely stomping on ants or worms, or someone killing flies with a fly swatter (what an awful contraption!). As though their lives hold no meaning or purpose. As though God did not create even the smallest of creatures out of His love. So when my son ceremoniously picks up worms off of a dry sidewalk and places them into the cool, moist soil, or lovingly constructs little houses for his friends the ants, I am filled with joy that there is hope for the creatures. That it is possible to cultivate in our young ones a reverence and respect for all of life.

I recently read a wonderful book, "Salt of the Earth," about Elder Isidore (1814-1908), of Gethsemane Hermitage in Russia. It was beautifully written by his spiritual son, New Martyr St. Paul Florensky, in a way which drew me into the life of this holy man and made me feel as though I had come to know him personally.

Of particular interest to me was how he showed such loving kindness to God's living creatures. He sang the Psalms of King David to a frog who lived in his garden. And not only did he feed wild animals and birds, but he also prayed for them and acted as their guardian. On one occasion, he rescued a sparrow from the clutches of a cat's paws and brought the bird into his cell to live until her wounded wing was healed.

And one of my favorite stories is about how Elder Isidore lived in harmony with mice in his cell.

Once he was asked, "Father, don't the mice ever bother you?" The Elder smiled: "No, they don't bother me at all. I feed them lunch and supper and that keeps them quiet. Before, they would claw their way all over the cell. But now I put food out for them to eat -near the mouse holes- and they don't run around anymore. No, they don't bother me at all."

Now I'm not suggesting that we should all share our homes with mice and ants. Most of us (myself especially) are far from the holiness of Elder Isidore. And there are certainly some potential health hazards involved, for young children in particular. But should our treatment of creatures be dependent upon whether we deem them to be cute and cuddly? Isn't it possible for us to take some steps to try to be kinder to all of God's creatures?

We have had our share of mice, bees, ants and the like wanting to raise their families in our house. Like I tell my son, we don't have any problem with visitors, but we don't have enough room in our house for everyone to move in. So, we do what we can to gently encourage them to make their homes in the great outdoors.

We have had great success discouraging ants in our home by sprinking a lot of cinnamon near their favorite entryways (They don't like to cross it.). Humane mouse traps (or "mouse houses" as my family calls them) worked wonders at helping our resident mouse stop his late-night parties in our living room sofa. (Although it did take a 15 minute train ride out of town to help him forget his way back!) And last year, there were some bees building a hive in our bathroom window. While it was a long time until we could open our window again, the bees eventually did leave. In the meantime, we were given the blessing of being able to watch them close-up as they built the hive, something we most likely won't be able to witness that closely very often.

We may have had some minor temporary inconveniences in our attempts to be kinder to God's creatures, but the blessings far outweighed the costs. St. Basil the Great once said, "The wisdom of God is revealed in the smallest creatures." What is more spiritually edifying, stomping on an ant, or taking the time to marvel at one?

Seeds

"It is not too late. God's world has incredible healing powers. Within a single generation, we could steer the earth toward our children's future. Let that generation start now, with God's help and blessing."

- Patriarch Bartholomew & Pope John Paul II, 2002 Joint Declaration on the Envrionment

While I struggle with the cold darkness of winter, there is one thing during this time that brings me great joy... starting seedlings for my garden. My seedlings have begun germinating, and one of my favorite things to do throughout the day is to dote upon them... watering them, looking at them, watching to see if any new seedlings will sprout. I never cease to be amazed by the process of nurturing the life that comes forth from a seed. At first glance, a seed seems so small and insignificant. Yet, within each seed lies the hope and promise of new life.

Even in the most unwelcoming of situations, life wants to grow. I have often marveled at the tiny plants that poke up out of the cracks in the sidewalk. Their persistant desire to reach toward the light is inspiring. Several years ago, while I was in the midst of a huge emotional struggle, a very dear friend of mine gave me some beautiful advice that I carry with me to this day. She said something to this nature, "If you think this time of darkness in your life is worthless and empty, think of the seeds that are planted into the darkness of the soil. They get rained on and trampled on and sometimes forgotten. Yet they eventually grow into something beautiful."

When thinking of the suffering and injustice in the world, it can be easy to fall into despair, to feel as though our efforts are tiny and insignificant. Too often, we either excuse ourselves from making different lifestyle choices by saying one person's choices won't make a difference to the world, or our sheer laziness prevents us from taking opportunities to make more compassionate choices. Yet, by God's grace, one person truly can make a difference.

Each small action we take to be kinder to God's creation is like a small seed of hope planted into the darkness of the world. And by being faithful in the small things, we can learn to be faithful in larger things. Besides, as Patriarch Bartholomew once said, “If we are not moved to compassion, bandaging the wounds of the earth, assuming personal care, and contributing to the painful costs, then we might easily be confronted with the question, which of these do you resemble: the Good Samaritan or the indifferent person?”

Convenient

Our house was sparkling clean this morning. Between our preparations for Gabriel's first birthday party and an appraiser coming to our house, there was a flurry of organizing and cleaning up this weekend.

At one point in time in the midst of all of this, my husband said, "Look at how dirty these windows and windowsills are. When's the last time we cleaned them? We've really been lazy." The prideful woman I am, I took this as a personal attack and jumped on the defensive, "What do you mean we? I'm not lazy. I'm always busy doing all kinds of things around the house." Yet, a few minutes later, I glanced at our compost container on the kitchen counter, and the reality of my own laziness was clearer than the dirt on our windows.

I am not a "winter person" by any stretch of the imagination. Every winter I imagine what it would be like to live in a more temperate climate. Every winter I long for my vegetable garden, to walk barefoot in the grass, to feel the warm summer rains, to touch and smell the sweetness of the earth, to be able to get up and go without taking a half hour to dress everyone.

This winter is no different. Recently I have been dreading the cold, gusty winds so much that I've been putting off taking our compost outside to the compost bin. I've allowed the compost container inside to get to the point where it's not only full, but it's overflowing so much that I can't even put a lid on it. There have even been a few occasions when I've just given up and put a bunch of it down the garbage disposal. Talk about laziness!

It's interesting that it took necessity to compel us to go the extra mile with our house cleaning. Yet, on a daily basis, I skip so many corners. Why is it that I often make the best choices and efforts only when it is convenient for me? It's easy to sit around and bemoan the growing environmental destruction in the world and cast the blame and judgement on others. But, in reality, the problem lies within each and every one of us.

Bishop Kallistos Ware said, “There can be no transformation of the environment without self-denial, no fundamental renewal of the cosmos without voluntary sacrifice.” If each of us are not willing to be faithful in taking small steps (no matter how uncomfortable or inconvenient) in our own lives which take the environment into consideration, God's creation will suffer. In a joint message from Orthodox Primates in 1995, Orthodox Christians were called upon "...to be vigilant and to take every necessary avenue in order to save and protect God's creation." As for me, I'm going start with the compost bin, even when it's not convenient.