In recent months, my columns have underscored the present-day relevance of Catholicism’s teaching on the subject of integral ecology. In particular, I’ve been interested in our popes’ consistent message that all creatures share in a cosmic covenant, which is to say that an intimate bond unites every creature in heaven and on earth with one another and with their Triune Lord. As I’ve tried to demonstrate, this approach stands in a league of its own in comparison with what we find in mainstream environmentalism today.
What I’d now like to do is probe more deeply into the foundation of this vision, filling in some details that reinforce magisterial teaching but which our popes have not addressed in detail. Specifically, I want to underscore the strong grounding that this enterprise has in Scripture and Tradition.
I view this as an important task because, despite its recurring appearance in the writings of recent popes, it would be easy to dismiss the notion that man has a covenant with creation as merely poetic or unduly anthropomorphic. On what basis, one might ask, can there exist a covenant between man and sub-personal creatures when they can’t freely reciprocate whatever goodwill we show toward them?
This is a fair question, and yet a closer examination of Scripture demonstrates that extending the covenantal framework to embrace the entire created order is anything but a modern innovation. Indeed, it turns out that it is more a retrieval of the biblical revelation of man as the nexus of all creation, bound to all living beings in kinship and tasked with wedding them to their Creator through the exercise of loving dominion.
The Prophets
The concept of a covenant uniting God, man, and all creation is a theme that runs throughout the canon of Scripture.
For example, Hosea 2:18 speaks about the promise of creation’s future renewal: “I will make for you a covenant on that day with the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and the creeping things of the ground.” Celebrated texts like Isaiah 11:6–9 and Ezekiel 34:25–9 likewise point to a time when war will be banished and all creatures will dwell together in a world free from suffering and death.
Meanwhile, Jeremiah envisions God’s covenant with creation as both a future and present reality. According to the Lord’s message conveyed by this prophet, it is an unbreakable bond embedded in the very fabric of the cosmos, personified in “my covenant with the day and my covenant with the night.” In this text, the Lord informs us that his fidelity is as reliable as the cadence of that rhythm by which day and night ineluctably arrive “at their appointed time” (Jer 33:20–22).
Genesis 9
While the prophetic literature contains some important passages that touch on God’s covenant with creation, it is most clearly revealed, in the first instance, where it is explicitly expressed. This comes at the conclusion of the Genesis flood narrative, in which God expressly binds himself not only with Noah’s family but moreover with all living things: “Behold, I establish my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you” (Gen 9:10).
The text proceeds to specify the wide scope of creatures that are “with” Noah—“the birds, the cattle, and every beast of the earth with you.” As the narrative indicates next, the cosmic image of the rainbow is a perpetual sign of “the covenant which I make between me and you and every living creature…a sign of the covenant between me and the earth” (Gen 9:12–13). All told, the Hebrew word for covenant (brîṯ) occurs here seven times in a span of just eight verses, expressed alternatively as a “covenant which is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh,” an “everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is upon the earth,” and “the covenant which I have established between me and all flesh that is upon the earth” (Gn 9:15–16).
In contrast with the way they are so often treated within today’s agro-industrial complex, the Noahic covenant envisions other creatures not as man’s subjects, but rather as our partners in covenantal kinship. Notably, St. John Chrysostom called attention to the importance of this relationship already in the Patristic period (and therefore centuries in advance of modern environmentalism with its sensitivity to the well-being of other species). According to this saint, the repetition of the covenantal promise here in Genesis 9 reveals that the Lord “extends his loving kindness to the animals and wild beasts.” Remarking on God’s care for both domesticated animals (“cattle”) and wild creatures (“beasts”) in Genesis 1:24 and 8:1, Chrysostom insists that God’s covenant is for “all creatures alike” and “never-ending and coterminous with the duration of the world.”
Commenting on this same passage centuries later, Pope John Paul II would teach, “[It] opens our eyes to a new vision of the world. It helps us to become aware of the world’s value in the eyes of God, who included the whole work of creation in the covenant made with Noah and committed himself to preserving it from destruction.”
Genesis 1–2
In contrast with these passages, the Hebrew term for ‘covenant’ (berith) does not appear in the first two chapters of Scripture. Nevertheless, Pope Benedict and other biblical scholars have contended that the concept of covenant is deeply embedded in these chapters insofar as the Sabbath itself is the sign of Scripture’s first covenant. This claim finds support in the Book of Exodus, where the Sabbath precept is explicitly connected with God’s rest on the seventh day of creation as “a sign forever between me and the people of Israel that in six days the LORD made heaven and earth, and on the seventh day he rested (Ex 30:17; cf. 20:8–11).”
Further, this perspective would seem to be reinforced by the etymological affinity between the Hebrew verb for God’s Sabbath “rest” (shabbat) in Gen 2:2–3 and the number seven, which is often used in reference to covenant oaths when deployed as a verb. Understood in this light, the sacred author’s portrayal of God having “rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had done” is a clever wordplay. It suggests that the work of creation culminated when God “sevened himself” to all of creation by means of a covenantal oath.
It is striking that Benedict XVI explored this very point in not one but two Easter Vigil homilies. In his 2011 message, the pope explicitly taught that “the Sabbath was an expression of the covenant between God and man and creation.” From the fact that he chose to reflect on it during the most important celebration of the liturgical year, it is clear that the pontiff saw this point as essential for understanding creation and man’s role in it. Covenantal communion, he taught, is not “something extra, something added later to a world already fully created.”
On the contrary, Benedict habitually stressed that covenant “is inbuilt at the deepest level of creation” and that “covenant is the inner ground of creation, just as creation is the external presupposition of the covenant.” According to Ratzinger and the Catechism that he curated, God made the world to establish a space to communicate his undying covenantal love and draw all creatures to himself.
With this in mind, Cardinal Ratzinger made this bold proclamation in his book The Spirit of the Liturgy: “The goal of creation is the covenant…The goal of worship and the goal of creation as a whole are one and the same—divinization, a world of freedom and love.” All this is to say that the biblical metaphor of creation across seven days is covenantal. It is a device deployed to drive home an implication of God’s covenant with the cosmos enacted through his “rest” on the seventh day. In imitation of their Lord, the people of Israel—along with all of creation—are called to participate in that same covenant by keeping holy his Sabbath every seventh day. As Ratzinger notes, this biblical insight reveals that the “inner rhythm” of creation is a “rhythm of seven,” which is nothing less than a “rhythm of worship.”
In the words of the Catechism, the Bible’s opening creation narrative is therefore best thought of as hymnody—a “liturgical poem” sung to the glory of God.
Pointers from liturgy and folk traditions
Beyond Scripture, the cosmic dimension of God’s covenant is evident in Christian traditions the world over. Folk wisdom and a myriad of devotions testify to the fact that all creatures of our God and King partake in divine communion in concert with those of us who bear his image.
Notably, tradition has often depicted animals engaged in divine adoration—especially at pivotal moments in salvation history. Take the night of Christ’s birth, for instance. On this holy night, birds chant praises to the divine infant. Bees awake from sleep and hum a symphony of praise. Plants bow in reverence towards Bethlehem. Cattle and deer fall on their knees. It is even said that this event occasioned animals to talk like humans. On that note, a particularly playful old French mystery play has the cock crow, ‘Christus natus est’ (Christ is born), prompting the ox to moo ‘Ubi?’ (Where?), to which the lamb responds, ‘Bethlehem,’ and the ox brays, ‘Eamus!’ (Let us go!).
Another illustration can be found in the realm of the visual arts. Although the New Testament says nothing of their presence at the manger, iconographers placed an ox and ass at the scene of Christ’s birth thanks to an inter-textual reading of two Old Testament texts in the Septuagint. One of these comes from Isaiah: “An ox knows its owner and a donkey the feeding trough of its master, but Israel has not known me and the people have not understood me” (Is 1:3 LES). The other is drawn from Habakkuk 3:2, in which it is said of the Lord, “In the midst of two living beings…you will be recognized.” As Pope Benedict recounts, these passages led the ancient Church to perceive the ox and ass as worshipers engaged in homage to the infant Jesus. Drinking deeply from Scripture’s well, Benedict notes that the ancients beheld in this scene “an image of a hitherto blind humanity which now, before the child, before God’s humble self-manifestation in the stable, has learned to recognize him.”
Like the sacred authors of Scripture, the Fathers understood that this is true not merely of the barnyard animals that were present to witness Christ’s birth but that it indeed applies to all creatures of all times. To recall a representative example, St. Augustine emphasized that all creatures glorify God simply by living according to their proper natures. Along the same lines, Tertullian went so far as to affirm that “every creature prays,” after which he proceeded to illustrate:
[C]attle and wild beasts pray and bend their knees; and when they issue from their layers and lairs, they look up heavenward with no idle mouth, making their breath vibrate after their own manner. Nay, the birds too, rising out of the nest, upraise themselves heavenward, and, instead of hands, expand the cross of their wings, and say somewhat to seem like prayer. What more then, touching the office of prayer? Even the Lord Himself prayed; to whom be honor and virtue unto the ages of the ages!
St. Basil held a similar outlook yet extended it to include inanimate creation. Asserting that “the deeps sing in their language a harmonious hymn to the glory of the Creator,” he added that the waters above the heavens “give glory to the Lord of the universe” as they yield rain, snow, sleet, and hail. This is the same dynamic later captured by St. Francis of Assisi in his renowned canticle depicting all creatures united in a litany of praise to God.
This vision is also enshrined in the great hymns of the Church. Among the countless examples that might come to mind, moving reflections on the glories of creation are featured in such pieces as “For the Beauty of the Earth,” “Let All Things Now Living,” and “All Things Bright and Beautiful.” The souls of countless Catholics have likewise been raised to God through the uplifting solemnity of “All Creatures of Our God and King,” as the hymn invites us to join in the joyful chorus of praise bursting forth from burning sun, silver moon, rushing wind, clouds that sail in heaven along, flowing water, and masterful fire.
Yet another area to consider can be found in the traditions of “wild saints,” like St. Benedict of Nursia, who was regularly fed by ravens. Or think of St. Francis of Assisi, who famously conversed with and tamed a terrifying wolf. And then there’s St. Seraphim of Sarov, who formed a close bond with a bear and expressed gratitude to mosquitos for helping the mystic to corral his passions.
Speaking of bears, traditional lore surrounding this creature figured prominently in the life of another ancient saint—and in his wake a contemporary pope. According to legend, 8th-century St. Corbinian was en route to Rome when a bear tore the bishop of Freising’s horse to pieces. The saint chastised the beast for his destructive actions and, as a punishment, made him carry his belongings the rest of the way to the Eternal City. Corbinian eventually made it to Rome, and the tamed beast went on to become a time-honored emblem of the Archdiocese of Munich-Freising.
Centuries later, this creature would prominently feature on the episcopal coat of arms of a later bishop from this same locale: the Rome-bound Joseph Ratzinger. An unpretentious soul, this son of Bavaria had no desire to leave his fatherland in search of fame, and in this way he identified with Corbinian’s bear in his willingness to submit to a higher power and follow a path of service that he had not chosen for himself. Like his beloved mentor St. Augustine, Ratzinger realized that serving as the Lord’s “beast of burden” may not be all roses, but that it is at least an assured way of remaining close to him. As Ratzinger saw it, Corbinian’s bear laden with a heavy load against his will is “an image of what I should be and of what I am.”
This autobiographical anecdote is just one illustration of Joseph Ratzinger’s great esteem for the myriad folk traditions and devotional practices of the Church in which other creatures play a central role. Nevertheless, the late pontiff’s primary concern always came back to Sacred Scripture in one way or another. Following suit, in my next column I will delve more deeply into what the Bible has to say on the nature of the dominion that God has tasked us with exercising over our fellow partners in the Lord’s cosmic covenant.
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About the problematic nature of a covenant between man and animals, we read: “This is a fair question, and yet a closer examination of Scripture demonstrates that extending the covenantal framework to embrace the entire created order is anything but a modern innovation.”
But, WHICH covenantal framework?
Ratzinger/Benedict does celebrate the cosmic aspect of Christianity, but unlike a litany of only Old Testament references to covenants, he also clarifies:
“Under the Old Testament, the term used for the Jewish covenant is ‘berith,’ a term which maintains a distance between the oneness of the Creator and his creatures. But of the New Covenant, the term used is actually ‘chaburah,’ meaning more than a covenant in the old sense of contractual subordination (and possibly fateful submission). Implied is a ‘relationship of communion’ between God and Man ‘in and through the person of Jesus Christ.’” ( Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger (Pope Benedict XVI), Pilgrim Fellowship of Faith (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2005, p. 74.).
Without discounting the message of ecological stewardship, does this totally new kind of communion now extend also to critters and other stuff?
In the past, yours truly has possibly harped too often on the ambiguity of the neologism “integral ecology.” But, why did St. John Paul II carefully distinguished (in Centesimus Annus) between the “human ecology” and, yes as he also said, the interrelated “natural ecology”?
The risk of cultural “monism”(?)–which is “anything but a modern innovation”(!), and more of a consequentialist approach to moral theology?
I like my dogs, nature,wild animals. I don’t have a covenant with them.
I do respect them.
Why did the Almighty make oceans of oil, vast seams of coal, many millions of cubic feet of natural gas?
Why did the Beloved One cook fish for breakfast?
Why did a jubilant father kill the fatted calf?
Are we called to be vegans and Gaia worshippers?
As for the FATTED CALF, what then of Buffalo-hunter economics?
The buffalo numbers were decimated from an original 30,000,000 to only 300, before some dead white dude—who once had bagged his own trophy—formed the American Bison Society (with William Hornaday) to save the bison from extinction. He also triggered the conservation movement in 1905 and was one of founders of the National Park Service–a Republican (!), President Theodore Roosevelt.
About your infinite veins of COAL?
What about the canaries in the coal mine? For those of us who are sometimes scientifically curious, why are some of them possibly not singing? And, in a slightly different vein, was it God who created the Dust Bowl?
And as for cooking FISH for breakfast, why is the Great Barrier Reef (at 133,000 square miles, roughly the same expanse as the Dust Bowl) now bleaching white and dying? What about food chains with weak links?
More than poetically, how might a single unborn and aborted child’s finite amniotic sac compare to the oceans and atmosphere as our global and yet finite amniotic sac? Two cognitively enlarging views—each ultrasound sonogram plus the Apollo 8 photo of our also singular, green/blue planet at earthrise over the barren lunar surface?
Still, you are half right. The astronauts read aloud from Genesis and not from a Gaia or Pachamama.
Buffalo made quite the comeback once they started being raised on farms for meat.
Breeder reactors require far less mining than almost any other source of electricity (especially once you count all the rare earths used in batteries and solar panels).
There’s a dessert in Maine, USA, that was created by overgrazing it with sheep, by a guy who had no idea what he was doing.
Fish are being farmed now too.
The whole tend and care for it thing works very well, if we actually do it. There’s no need to eat bugs, just to exercise an ounce of care and a pound of thought.
That said, a single unborn child has more value than the entire world.
What hogwash
https://youtu.be/MKYNupyXlYo
And millions of bison roaming the plains.. we can hunt them like nomads?
The dust bowl was created by stupid government policy.
The fine tuning of the Universe and Earth for human existence proves the Almighty designed this for us and since our imprudent Fall we are destined by the sweat of our brow to learn how to benefit from His magnanimous gifts.
We are not. Most certainly agree with you
How can we forget how “bees” are enlisted in praise of the Risen Lord in the magnificent Exsultet of the Easter Vigil?
And, about the bees, on the watch-list is the from-time-to-time collapse of bee colonies, termed Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD). Due to multiple causes, but partly pesticides and loss of habitat.
Just another detail to ponder as we think ecologically about bee pollination of food crops. What goes around comes around. https://www.epa.gov/pollinator-protection/colony-collapse-disorder
Bees are not in decline. Small, short-lived crisis for a few years about 15-20 years ago.
https://geneticliteracyproject.org/2023/03/03/beepocalypse-myth-handbook-dissecting-claims-of-pollinator-collapse/
I used the term “watch-list,” which is confirmed in the concluding paragraph of your link:
“Experts studying wild bees are not in panic mode, but are pushing for more data[!]. According to US Geological Survey’s Sam Droege, one of the foremost authorities on native bees in the US, most wild bees appear to be doing fine. Despite the reassuring evidence about both managed and wild bee populations, and given the critical role that pollinators play in nature and agriculture, the government is wise to continue closely monitoring the honeybee , bumble bee and wild bee population in the coming years.”
The vast majority of the article I cite points out that there is no reason to be concerned about possible bee decline at this time. A watch list is just overly fearful, because as the article points out with supporting data and graphs, there is also an actual increase in some bee populations.
Environmentalist extremists are always claiming this or that emergency population decline (polar bears, ice, bees, and so on) and they almost never materialize into the claimed danger and possible consequences. Any watch list is really a waste of time since normal studies that include population data take place annually. That’s all the watch list we need, and we don’t need more government actions that tend to look for things to be concerned about and exaggerate to suck more money from taxpayers and promote an environmental extremist agenda.
Shawn Marshall –
A brief response, but leading to a lifetime of study –
Look into the difference in agriculture due to the Enlightenment/secular notion of “farming” and the medieval/Catholic notion of “husbandry”
Ramage’s essay here resonates well with Pope Francis’ emphasis in Laudato Si on the interconnectedness of all creation, thus bridging traditional piety with contemporary ecological concerns. However, Ramage’s focus rather falls short in addressing the deeper social and economic structures that are at the root of the ecological crisis. Laudato Si is loud and clear in going beyond a mere call for environmental awareness, urging a profound transformation of the global economic system that perpetuates environmental degradation and social injustice. Ramage overlooks the fact that environmental harm around the world disproportionately affects the poor and marginalized. The Pope in Laudato Si insists that any genuine ecological spirituality must confront the exploitation of both the planet and its most vulnerable inhabitants. Ramage’s focus on traditional piety like reflecting here on covenantal biblical theology does not fully embrace the radical ecological conversion that Pope Francis calls for in Laudato Si. This conversion requires not only a renewed appreciation for creation but also a willingness to challenge and change the systems and behaviors that contribute to environmental destruction. As Ramage’s theological work on ecology mainly focuses on the teachings of Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI, he could benefit from a more robust engagement with the socio-economic critique in Pope Francis’ teachings. Taking this way, Ramage’s ecological theology could more effectively address the urgent need for a holistic and transformative ecological spirituality that is deeply attuned to both the environmental and social challenges of our time.
Thank you for clearly stating this perspective. Prior to Laudato Si, St. John Paul II still does set the stage with earlier language such as this:
“It is therefore necessary to create lifestyles in which the quest for truth, beauty, goodness and communion with others for the sake of common growth are the factors which determine consumer choices, savings and investments [….] I am referring to the fact that even the decision to invest in one place rather than another, in one productive sector rather than another, is always A MORAL AND CULTURAL CHOICE [CAPS for italics]” (the wide-ranging Centesimus Annus, 1991, n. 36).
Also, “In our time, in particular, another form of ownership which is becoming no less important than land: THE POSSESSION OF KNOW-HOW, TECHNOLOGY AND SKILL. The wealth of the industrialized nations is based much more on this kind of ownership than on natural resources [….] In this way the ROLE of disciplined and creative HUMAN WORK and, as an essential part of that work, INITIATIVE AND ENTREPRENEURIAL ABILITY become increasingly decisive [….] today the decisive factor in increasingly MAN HIMSELF, that is, his knowledge, especially his scientific knowledge and compact organization [!], as well as his ability to perceive the needs of others and to satisfy them [!]” (n. 32).
These words go further than many papal documents (e.g., Laudato Si), in giving space for BOTH Solidarity and Subsidiarity, together, in dealing with future global challenges. We have the partial explanation that Laudato Si was not thoroughly completed before being published, since one constraint was to connect with the schedule of the Paris Climate Agreement of 2015 (which, politically and economically, affects industrial countries and India and China very differently).
CULTURALLY, the question in the minds of many—and posed by Deacon Dom—is whether ecological boundary conditions [!] call into question the centuries-long Western ideology/trajectory to accommodate all human wants (needs?) around the world with increasingly centralized and industrialized solutions coupled with statist methods of wealth redistribution. (St. John Paul II warns against totalitarianism, nn. 44-52).
I understand its been a long running question whether or not there are animals in heaven. An awful lot of humans love their animals dearly and they add a great deal to the lives of so many people, especially but not exclusively domestic animals such as dogs, cats and horses.. I would suggest these folks would be somewhat disappointed if they are NOT there.
A worthy perspective on reigning in environmental abuse of the accommodations God gave us to live in while on planet earth. Would that it were within the realm of feasible possibility. With nations in economic competition since the industrial revolution that prospect would require world wide conversion. Although as Ramage advises we can nevertheless make strides in effecting a purer environment. In that respect Laudato Si also has relevance.
Nothing is said here [and reasonably so] about God the creator’s curse made as a consequence of the Fall of Adam and Eve. That the environment would be to some extent hostile to sinful Man. From a theological perspective there’s at least a nuance of relevance to droughts, plagues, earthquakes, tidal waves, unpredictable cataclysmic storms, volcanic explosions [and with prejudice I submit cockroaches, anopheles mosquitoes, rats, and gnats]. So there are cosmic forces that make our sojourn here a challenge. And perhaps entirely taming a vengeful nature a worthy yet evasive reality.
Small wonder that Ecclesiastes is recognized as inspired and canonical. But, about “taming a vengeful nature,” St. John Paul II makes this passing reference:
“He must therefore respect the natural and moral structure with which he has been endowed. In this context, mention should be made of the serious problems of urbanization, of the need for urban planning [!] which is concerned with how people are to live [….]” (Centesimus Annus, n. 38).
The pope was concerned about the “social ecology of work,” but more broadly, urban planning also has something to do with geography. We can at least avoid aggravating nature, by not building homes on slopes subject to landslides, or in river floodplains, or maybe on the sides of volcanoes or the paths of pyroclastic mud flows. Along the West Coast we do see a familiar site is marked tsunami evacuation routes onto high ground, anticipating a Class 9.0+ Subduction Zone tectonic earthquake which occurs every 300 to 800 years. We are now between the bookends. However, yours truly also recalls once reading, perhaps inaccurately, that the emergency response communication center in Los Angeles is located directly atop the San Andreas Fault.
Then there’s the disposal of immobilized nuclear waste (called vitrification) from World War II and the Cold War nuclear arms race. Which is not yet fully resolved in the United States, because the ideal storage site must be free of earthquakes for maybe the 10,000 years, longer than written human history, because of the slow radioactive decay of some nuclear byproducts. And, then, as you mention, there are droughts and rats. And, cockroaches which are the only living species to survive the nuclear tests of the 1950s on remote Pacific Islands.
How are such concerns to survive a four-year election cycle focused on the Stock Market? So, even with a doctorate and long career in urban and regional planning, I agree; have a nice day.
An excellent response on dealing with expected environmental adversities. I believe it enters your field of expertise. Unfortunately they’re areas where planning is difficult, perhaps non existent such as Tornado Alley.
Then I think of tiny villages on the slopes of very active Mt Aetna. Or the people who lived in St Pierre when Mt Pelee exploded. How do we convince people not to live there? You’re aware of the ever impending mega explosion of magma buildup in the Midwest. Nonetheless intelligent planning is our option. All the more intelligent spiritual planning.
You are who you eat, Carl Olson’s Sunday sermon [articles, even comments are ways for laymen to preach the Word], which we parishioners are not permitted to critique can be referenced here. What comes through in Olson is that in becoming likened to Christ by consuming the Holy Eucharist we furthermore become part of his body, that is, the Mystical Body on Earth.
If we take Our Lord as a model for treating the environment, he was very frugal, skipping meals, eating whatever was served, fish wine and bread seemingly consistent fare. A very environmentally friendly man requiring a minimum of comfort and energy use. But he took issue with fig trees.
When he didn’t find any of those delicious, nutrient packed fruit when hungry he cursed the tree. What had the tree done? It was likely out of season. On his brief stay and return the Apostles were amazed that the tree was totally withered. We know the lesson was for all of us to produce fruit, in season and out of season, whether our lives are warm or hot, rainy or cold. And to live like him means a rational degree of frugality with minimum pressure on the environment, appropriate to our station and responsibilities. Furthermore, we would contribute to saving the fig tree.