Eco Catholic

I learned after we had chosen the title for this blog that Eco Catholic can also mean “Easter and Christmas Only Catholic.” Oh well, such is life. We early on decided that we would include on this blog regular updates on the seasons as they pass, on the night skies that present themselves to us when we look up, as the Earth makes its journey around the Sun, even including a “star” of the month. We wanted to include a hefty dose of the bioregional vision -- that notion that the task of preserving the Earth is doable if we begin in our own backyards, neighborhoods and bio-regions -- those natural boundaries of the planet that provide us our food, water, weather, animal neighbors, plants and trees.

The purpose of these updates and reflections is to situate us solidly within the holy seasons of the planet on which we live and within the vast cosmos of which we are a part. Mindful of Fr. Thomas Berry’s warning that we have sorely neglected the ages-old conversation the human has always had with the rivers, the oceans, the forests and the skies, I also think of the prayer that was included in the United Nations Environmental Sabbath Programme some years ago:

Poet and Kentucky farmer Wendell Berry was honored at the White House Wednesday for his writings and conservation advocacy, receiving the National Humanities Medal from President Barack Obama.

Berry, 76, shook hands with Obama, and the two whispered to one another briefly. The president then draped the red ribbon and medal around Berry’s neck. “The author of more than 40 books, Mr. Berry has spent his career exploring our relationship with the land and community,” said the citation that was read aloud during the White House East Room ceremony, attended by Vice President Joe Biden, First Lady Michelle Obama and heads of federal arts agencies.

There is widespread fascination today with elements of Native American spirituality. A central component of these spiritualities is the vision quest, that part of a person’s development in which she goes out into the wilderness for a period of time to fast and pray, to nourish an intimacy with her inner life, and to find direction for life.

“Every spring is the only spring - a perpetual astonishment,” says Ellis Peters. Yes, most of us relish this season, especially after a cold and snowy winter like the one we’ve had, but it’s still easy to bypass its gifts out of busyness or complacency. So I invite you to enter into a deeper love affair with spring this year. Do it out of appreciation for the Creator’s genius, for the joy it sparks, and for your soul’s development.

Here’s what I most love about spring. The purple and light green colors of bud and blossom are a feast for my eyes. I know exactly where the dogwoods are on my street, and can’t wait to see the white and pink flowers burst forth. I get to look out my office window and see my redbud tree smiling at me with colorful delight. Forsythia branches, tulips, and crocuses adorn every room in my house. That magical time when color is fresh, new and vivid is brief, so I try to soak it in as fully as possible.

When I was young, my family lived on Olive Street in Kansas City. Milk was delivered in glass bottles onto the porch. Our mothers bought vegetables out of the back of a pickup truck parked on the corner, from an Italian with a Panama hat and a moustache.

Summer evenings all of us kids on the block played outside together, on the sidewalk and even in the street. Kick the Can, Red Rover, cowboys and Indians, Inch me and Pinch me were our pursuits -- my brother, Bob, and Buck and Jake Smith, Rita Bunting, Al Wendell, Roland Pease, Bill Dosier, Sid Gold, Martha Schuster and Mary Kleinbach.

Sid we called “Perch Breath,” because his family was poor and ate fish that his uncle caught in the city park’s lake. Roland was nicknamed (behind his back) “Bumpy” because he was always leaning into you hard, trying to pick a fight. He smelled funny too. Bill was “Willy Scared Silly” because he wouldn’t stay overnight with us at the abandoned Schuster house, an abode of spooky noises.

Mostly we had fun together, except for our run-ins with the Gruesome Two.