Nature as host

Stewardship is the term so many of us use to speak of our relationship with nature. Stewardship allows us to see the world as a precious object gifted to humanity by God and bequeathed to us by our ancestors over the generations. For the time we are here, it is our turn to be the world's earthly guardians. It is our job to protect it, tend to it and care for it. It is our job, when our time is done, to hand a healthy world on to the next generation.

I have always been troubled by this view. For two reasons:

(1) Stewardship leaves undefined the ways in which we are to use the resources of this world, which we must do in order to both survive and thrive. The most common view of stewardship seems to me to be one of conservation and protection. That is, the steward is to make sure that the object guarded is returned exactly as it was received.

But that of course is not how we can be with the world. We rely on the stuff of the world for our every physical and some spiritual needs. Proper guidance on how to use the stuff must be built into the core of this narrative, or else we can go astray. As we have.

Judaism offers some welcome nuances to assist this narrative. There is, for example, in Jewish law the concept of the shomer, the one who is given an object to keep and protect while the owner is away. The shomer, in return for his kindness, has the right to use and benefit from that object, as long as the object is not depleted or unreasonably degraded in the process.

With this construct, we can imagine, then, that the earth is God's possession, given to humankind, with us as shomer. We can then use the earth and its resources as a shomer uses a valuable deposit left in his care. Or, if we are not theologically inclined, we can imagine the earth as the common possession of all humanity, for all time, deposited with us momentarily, which we are bidden to hand on, well-used and well-preserved. shomer,. Or even more, we can see it as the common inheritance of all creatures for all time, whose protection and good use are temporarily put in our hands.

I can see how these can be compelling visions, motivating us to live gently and well on this earth, in covenant with God, all humankind and all creation. Not bad.

But I still am uncomfortable, because...

(2) ... Regardless of how we nuance stewardship, it reverses the true order of things. Nature is not an object placed in the realm of humanity. Rather, humanity is creature placed in the realm of nature. That is, we are guests in this world, and nature is our host. More precisely, from a religious point of view, God is the ultimate host, but nature is God's surrogate. It is through nature that God speaks to humankind, and it is through nature that we experience God. That is why miracles are so prominent in the revelation stories. God is not an idea, or concept, or even feeling that can be immediately, rationally and intellectually perceived. God is first experienced as response to the wonder and awe of physical realm that surrounds us. Nature is the sacred currency, the sacred medium, through which God communicates with us.

God is the ultimate host, while nature is the earthly host. And we are nature's guest.

That alone confers upon us a clear sense of roles and propriety.

(1) As guests, we don't own anything here (this is a status we share with stewards). We are welcomed into this world, and given full access to all parts of the "house". But we cannot confuse access with ownership, or power with entitlement. We did not create this world; we are visiting it. The owner has opened its doors wide to us. We are its explorers, not its exploiters.

(2) As guests, we must be respectful of boundaries. It is not right for us to go rifling through nature's storage closets, upending dressers, dumping huge mounds of
debris and refuse on the floor. It is not right for us to start dismantling the floorboards and the furniture, the picture-frames and doorposts, particularly for some immediate, short-term desire. Some things, especially those that compromise the integrity of the house, are beyond our rights.

(3) As guests, we should use only what is renewable. There were guests here before us, and there will be guests here after us. Just as we only have access to those things the previous guests were gracious enough to leave behind, so we must be gracious and leave the full measure of what we find to those yet to come. It is not our role to diminish their earthly options.

(4) As guests, while we are not permitted to diminish the home of our host, we can enhance it. It is proper for a guest, in some sort of grateful remuneration, to bring a gift to the host. Why else would a host invite a guest if not for some benefit in return? There are so many possibilities for gifts. We can bring the stories we tell about the ways of creation and the awesomeness of nature (think of the last chapters of Job or Psalm 104). We can uncover the secrets of antibiotics, bioluminescence, photosynthesis, how the gecko walks on ceilings. We can deepen our appreciation of the miracle of life through better understanding it. And through bio-mimicry, using the secrets that 4 billion years of evolution has revealed, we can create a richer, safer, healthier world.

(5) As guests, we should pick up after ourselves. Those who come after us should find the place as hospitable as we did, if not more so. That does not mean we have to be invisible. Quite the contrary. We can, and should, leave our mark. Exhibiting evidence of our stay is most appropriate, as long as that evidence offers wisdom, benefits and blessings, and not harm.

These are some of the rules if we see nature as host. There is one more, harsher, rule, that the Torah reminds us of. The host has the right to throw out an unruly guest. The Bible tells us again and again that if the people Israel live heavily and unjustly in the land of Israel, they will be thrown out, spit out. This image startles. But it is the image we need to keep in mind as we trash the world around us today. For scientists remind us that even if we humans were to drive ourselves into extinction, the earth would ultimately survive.

How would our behavior change if we truly mined this vision of humankind as guest? It is worth pondering, for both parties. For, we might rightly ask, not only how living well as guest enriches our lives, but also, how lonely is the host without the company of a grateful and wise guest?