Introduction, continued
My passion for nature and religion led me, with much trepidation, to start the first national Jewish environmental organization, Shomrei Adamah, "Keepers of the Earth." I had never been involved in organizational life before, had little knowledge of Judaism, and knew nothing about the established Jewish community (indeed, I was still pretty ambivalent about my own Judaism).
For ten years I worked with rabbis, scientists, environmentalists, and writers around the country to create educational materials that would bring to life the ecological dimensions of the Bible and Judaism. We developed books and curricula that rabbis and educators could use with their congregants to illuminate the "natural" side of Jewish holidays, stories, ethics, law, and practices.
Even though the work was successful, I felt it was limited in its ability to reach a wide audience. And perhaps more important, I felt I had not fully articulated my own ecological vision. Having long before witnessed the power of stories to transform the attitudes of my students, I imagined that one of the Bible 's most popular stories, Genesis 1, could have the potential to reach a broad audience and open peoples' hearts to nature.
The Genesis narrative was so familiar that for years I would just breeze through it. But even a surface reading yields ecological significance. Genesis 1 recounts the seven days and seven categories of creation: light on day one, air on the second day, waters and earth on the third day. Once the elemental habitats are created, their inhabitants move in: waters give rise to swimming creatures, air gives rise to flying creatures, and earth gives rise to walking creatures. The story is beautiful. Its lyricism and poetry eloquently express a sense of wholeness and a reverence for nature. I realized that Genesis 1 is indeed the Western world's first environmental epic.
As I rooted around in the text, I discovered several ecospiritual themes embedded within: the mystery of creation, the goodness of nature, the power of limits, the importance of diversity and sustainability, the ecology of time, the balance of work and rest, the interdependence of everything, and a sense of place, order, and harmony.
I also recognized mystical and mythic dimensions of the creations: soul is created on day one, intellect on the second day, emotions and actions on the third, time on the fourth, movement on the fifth, love and work on the sixth, and rest and eternity on the seventh. Genesis speaks to our inner nature, as well as to our outer nature.
Inspired by the text, I committed myself to the task of illuminating its deep ecological message for others. This book, The Splendor of Creation, is my midrash-a story about a story-on creation. To help me with my task, I have explored the teachings of my own tradition, the writings of the rabbis, as well as the wisdom of scientists, philosophers, and poets through the ages. One of the great rewards of investigating ancient texts is finding what you thought were your own original ideas, clearly articulated by people who lived hundreds or thousands of years ago. Two rabbis in particular provided special guidance for me: Nachmanides (Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman), a thirteenth-century Spanish scholar, philosopher, physician, and poet, a Renaissance man who brought a kabbalistic or mystical orientation to the text, and Samson Raphael Hirsch, a nineteenth-century German Orthodox rabbi who expressed an uncanny ecological perspective.
Today, as I write, the words of Rabbi Bahya ibn Pakuda, an eleventh-century Jewish philosopher, ring in my ears: "Meditation on creation is obligatory," he said. "You should try to understand both the smallest and greatest of God's creatures. Examine carefully those which are hidden from you."1
Today, as I write, the words of Rabbi Bahya ibn Pakuda, an eleventh-century Jewish philosopher, It is the pleasure and the work of each generation to bring the Bible to life. My job is to breathe new light into the very first chapter. This book considers the mysteries of creation and offers back a reverence for life and a creation ethic. In the end the carth will become whole as we become whole, when we see nature as integral to our identities and stewardship as an extension of our everyday lives.
1. Bahya Ibn Pakuda, Duties of the Heart, trans. Moses Hyamson (New York: Feldheim, 1970), 137.
