Ecotheology Archives - Sam Harrelson

Ecological Intentionality and the Unseen Intelligences of the Non-Human World

In the vibrant tapestry of life on Earth, we humans often see ourselves as the central thread… the primary actors in a grand narrative of progress, conflict, and survival. Yet, this perspective risks blinding us to the complex and interwoven intelligences that animate the non-human world. As I delve deeper into the concept of ecological intentionality, I find myself more attuned to the subtle, often overlooked ways in which non-human intelligences… from trees and fungi to rivers and mountains… participate in the unfolding story of our planet.

Ecological Intentionality: Beyond Human Consciousness

At its core, ecological intentionality challenges the anthropocentric view that intentionality… the capacity to have thoughts, desires, or purposes directed toward something… is the exclusive domain of human beings. Traditional phenomenology has long centered on human consciousness and its relationship to the world, but what if we extend the idea of intentionality beyond human minds? What if we imagine a world where other forms of life, and even so-called “inanimate” entities, possess their own kind of intentionality… their own ways of interacting with, responding to, and even shaping their environments?

The Bible offers insights into this broader understanding. In Psalm 96:12, we read, “Let the field exult, and everything in it! Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy.” This verse suggests that nature itself is alive with praise and has its own way of celebrating the divine, hinting at a form of intentionality that is beyond human comprehension.

Non-Human Intelligences: Trees, Fungi, and More

Consider the intelligence of a tree. Science increasingly reveals how trees communicate through vast underground networks of fungi, sharing nutrients, warning each other of danger, and even “nurturing” their offspring or neighbors in times of stress. This “Wood Wide Web” of fungal networks suggests a form of collective intentionality… a communal way of being that is responsive and adaptive to the needs of the forest as a whole. The trees do not act in isolation; they are part of an intricate community, continuously engaged in a dance of mutual support, competition, and survival.

In the Old Testament, we see a similar recognition of trees as participants in God’s creation. In Isaiah 55:12, it is written, “For you shall go out in joy and be led back in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.” Here, the trees are portrayed as beings with their own expression, actively engaging with the divine presence.

Then there are fungi themselves… the ancient, often unseen architects of life. Fungi have existed for over a billion years, long before the first plants emerged on land, and their networks are vast, complex, and purpose-driven. Mycorrhizal fungi form symbiotic relationships with plants, providing essential nutrients in exchange for sugars. This exchange isn’t a simple transaction but rather an ongoing negotiation that changes with the environment, the needs of the plants, and even the health of the entire ecosystem. Here, we see another form of non-human intelligence… an intelligence that is relational, dynamic, and deeply embedded in the fabric of life.

The River’s Mind: Thinking with the Flow

Even rivers can be seen as possessing a form of intentionality. Indigenous cultures around the world have long recognized rivers as sentient beings… entities with purpose, memory, and agency. In a phenomenological sense, a river shapes its surroundings, carves valleys, creates fertile plains, and sustains countless forms of life. Its movements are not random; they are responsive to the lay of the land, the seasonal rhythms, and the larger climate patterns. To think with the river is to understand its agency in shaping the landscape and the ecosystems that depend on it. A river “knows” how to flow, how to adapt to obstacles, and how to find its way to the sea.

The Bible also reflects on the role of water in the natural world as an agent of God’s purpose. In Job 38:25-27, God speaks of His creation, saying, “Who has cut a channel for the torrents of rain, and a way for the thunderbolt, to bring rain on a land where no one lives, on the desert, which is empty of human life, to satisfy the waste and desolate land, and to make the ground put forth grass?” This verse portrays water as having a role in creation that extends beyond human utility… it has a purpose and a life-giving role that is part of a larger divine intention.

A New Perspective: Participatory Awareness

Ecological intentionality invites us to shift from a mindset of domination and control to one of participatory awareness. It encourages us to see ourselves not as masters of nature but as participants in a vast, interconnected web of life, where each entity… human, animal, plant, or mineral… has its own form of agency and intelligence. This perspective has profound implications for how we approach environmental stewardship, conservation, and sustainability. Instead of seeing nature as a resource to be managed or exploited, we begin to recognize it as a community of intelligent beings with whom we share our lives.

The New Testament also echoes this view of interconnectedness. In Romans 8:19-21, Paul writes, “For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.” Here, creation is portrayed as having its own yearning, its own purpose that is intertwined with the redemption of humanity.

Re-Envisioning Our Relationships with the Non-Human World

By embracing ecological intentionality, we start to ask different questions… How do we listen to the voices of the non-human intelligences around us? How do we learn from their wisdom, their ways of being, and their modes of communication? How do we honor their agency and recognize their intrinsic value, not just for what they provide to us, but for their own sake?

These questions are not just theoretical; they are urgently practical. In a world facing unprecedented ecological crises, from climate change to species loss, we need to develop a deeper, more respectful relationship with the non-human world. We need to recognize that our survival is intricately linked to the survival of other forms of life and that their intelligences… their ways of knowing and being… have much to teach us about resilience, adaptability, and sustainability.

Toward a More Inclusive Understanding of Intelligence

Ecological intentionality is more than a philosophical concept… it is a call to action. It urges us to expand our understanding of intelligence to include the vast, diverse, and often mysterious intelligences of the non-human world. It challenges us to see the world not as a backdrop to our human drama but as a vibrant, living community in which we are but one member among many.

By opening ourselves to the possibility of non-human intentionalities, we may discover new ways of thinking, new ways of being, and new ways of living in harmony with the world around us. And in doing so, we may just find the wisdom we need to navigate the uncertain waters of the Anthropocene and beyond.

Ecological Intentionality: Recognizing the Sacred Land of the Carolinas

As I continue to reflect on “Ecological Intentionality,” I find myself drawn to the rich ecological tapestry of the Carolinas, a landscape filled with beauty, complexity, and deep spiritual significance. To fully understand the importance of this region, we must recognize that the land itself is not just a passive backdrop to our lives but an active participant in our shared journey. This means intentionally engaging with the natural world, seeing it anew, and honoring it as a sacred part of our story.

Throughout history, poets, thinkers, and prophets have called us to this deeper awareness, reminding us of our interconnectedness with all creation. As Thomas Berry, a native of North Carolina and a leading voice in ecological spirituality, once said, “The universe is a communion of subjects, not a collection of objects.” Berry’s words invite us to see the natural world of the Carolinas not as a set of resources to be used but as a community to which we belong and with which we are in constant relationship.

The Carolinas: A Land of Beauty and Non-Human Purpose

The Carolinas are blessed with an extraordinary diversity of landscapes — from the rolling Blue Ridge Mountains to the Piedmont’s ancient forests and the Lowcountry’s vibrant wetlands. Each place carries its ecological significance, providing habitat for countless species, filtering our water, and regulating our climate. Yet, as Wendell Berry reminds us, “The earth is what we all have in common.” Our connection to this land is not just practical; it is profoundly spiritual.

Reflecting on the beauty and purpose of the Carolinas, I am reminded of the words of the Psalmist: “The earth is the Lord’s and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it” (Psalm 24:1, NRSV). This verse calls us to see the natural world not merely as something to be used but as a sacred trust that we are called to steward with care and humility.

Wisdom from Historical Voices

Thomas Berry believed that our ecological crisis is fundamentally spiritual, rooted in a loss of connection to the sacredness of the Earth. He urged us to develop a new story that recognizes our deep interdependence with all forms of life. “The human venture,” he wrote, “depends absolutely on this quality of awe and reverence and joy in the Earth and all that lives and grows upon the Earth.” Berry’s words resonate strongly in the Carolinas, where the land and water sing with life and possibility, calling us to engage more deeply and intentionally with the natural world.

Henry David Thoreau, another great naturalist, famously said, “Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.” For Thoreau, nature was not separate from the divine. Still, an expression of it, a sentiment that is echoed in the landscapes of the Carolinas, where every walk through a forest or along a river offers a chance to encounter the sacred. His words challenge us to open our eyes and hearts to the beauty around us, to see the divine in the natural world, and to embrace our role as caretakers of this sacred earth.

Biblical Foundations for Ecological Intentionality

The Bible also provides a rich foundation for this perspective. In Genesis, we are told, “The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it” (Genesis 2:15, NRSV). This passage reminds us that our fundamental role is to care for the earth, a calling that remains as relevant today in the Carolinas as it was in the ancient world.

The prophet Isaiah speaks to the sacredness of the natural world, saying, “For you shall go out in joy, and be led back in peace; the mountains and the hills before you shall burst into song, and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands” (Isaiah 55:12, NRSV). This verse beautifully captures the idea that creation itself rejoices in its existence, and we, too, are called to celebrate and protect this divine harmony.

A Call to Recognize the Ecological Significance of the Carolinas

Ecological Intentionality is about embracing this wisdom — the wisdom of poets, prophets, and thinkers like Thomas Berry who have seen the world with clearer eyes and a deeper sense of connection. It calls us to recognize that the landscapes of the Carolinas are not just beautiful scenes but vital parts of a larger ecological and spiritual web. It urges us to see the rivers, forests, and coastlines as expressions of God’s handiwork, deserving of our respect and care.

As we reflect on our place in this beautiful and fragile ecosystem, let us remember Berry’s words: “The Great Work is not primarily a human work. It is Earth’s work. We are only a small part of a vast cosmic adventure.” In this spirit, let us commit ourselves to protecting the sacred lands of the Carolinas, living in harmony with creation, and passing on this wisdom to future generations.

Embracing a New Way Forward

In my work at CIIS and my ministry, I am constantly exploring how we can cultivate this intentional relationship with the earth. It begins with awareness — seeing the divine in the details of our environment — and moves into action, where we take steps, however small, to protect and honor the natural world. By embracing Ecological Intentionality, we affirm our commitment to living in harmony with creation, recognizing that our fate is intimately tied to the fate of the lands we are fortunate to inhabit.

Let’s continue to find new ways to love, learn from, and care for this beautiful place we call home.

Sermon: “Reimagining Sacred Spaces: The Ecological Call in 1 Kings”

I was honored to be asked to preach today at Garden of Grace UCC in Columbia, SC by my favorite pastor, Rev. Merianna Harrelson. I gave a little backstory about my interest and studies in ecology and religion (and why that’s such a fascinating topic) before bringing in our passage from 1 Kings (my favorite biblical book for many reasons). Here’s that passage if you’d like to read along with the sermon text here:

Introduction:

Good morning, Church. It’s a blessing to be with you today in our Garden of Grace as we gather to worship and reflect on God’s presence in our lives.

I have a seemingly strange background. My background as a classroom teacher is about the interactions of things and how things move. That led to the chance to teach AP Physics, Environmental Science, Life Science, and Earth and Space Science over the years. These are all classes about topics I am deeply fascinated with because of the connections. The other half of my background is theological and spiritual, also focused on connections.

One of the questions that always seemed to have popped up after a few weeks in the classroom with a new set of students was, “Mr. Harrelson, do you believe in aliens if you are religious and study science?” It’s a great question, and I’d usually use the famous astronomer Carl Sagan’s point that if we’re all alone, it’s a mighty big waste of … space.

But I’m here to tell you today that we are not alone. We have never been alone. I’m not talking about aliens, but I’m talking about the research that modern science, philosophy, and theology are showing about our concept of intelligence and consciousness. This isn’t just about dolphins, puppies, and whales. We’re seeing data from everywhere that creatures once thought to be non-intelligent are actually intelligent. Plants, trees, bacteria, ants, insects…, and even “non-living” entities are showing surprising data. Water? Could water be “intelligent?”

No, we are not alone. We have just created self-imposed cages around ourselves to make us feel alone. We have hidden behind screens to hide ourselves away from the connection to each other and the Creation. And that’s just how the powers that be want us to be… trapped and ready to buy on demand and stream our health away to fuel systems of spiritual oppression.

Today’s scripture from 1 Kings is a powerful reminder of the sacred spaces that connect us to God and how to overcome this spiritual oppression. As I’ve been preparing this sermon, I’ve been reflecting on how this passage resonates with my current work in ecological theology. As some of you know, I’ve been delving deeply into the intersection of spirituality and ecology. I believe there’s a profound message for us here today, especially as we consider the beauty and challenges of our own environment here in South Carolina.

The passage we read from 1 Kings 8:22-30, 41-43, is part of Solomon’s prayer of dedication for the Temple. This Temple was not just a building; it was the heart of Israel’s spiritual life, a place where the presence of God was believed to dwell among the people. As we think about the significance of this Temple, I invite us to consider the sacred spaces in our own lives—both the ones we build and the ones that have been gifted to us by creation.

I. The Temple as a Sacred Space (1 Kings 8:22-30)

Let’s start by reflecting on the Temple itself. In Solomon’s time, this was a monumental achievement, a physical space where heaven and earth met. The people of Israel believed that God’s presence was uniquely manifest in this place, and they came to it with reverence and awe.

But what makes a space sacred? Is it the stones and the gold, the grandeur of the architecture? Or is it something more? Theologians and scholars have long debated this, but there’s a simple truth that transcends these discussions: a space becomes sacred when it is recognized as a place where God’s presence is honored and felt.

Throughout history, many cultures have recognized natural landscapes as sacred spaces—forests, rivers, mountains—as places where the divine presence is felt. In South Carolina, we are blessed with an abundance of such spaces. Think of the Congaree National Park, with its towering trees and rich biodiversity. Or the peaceful marshlands along our coast, teeming with life. These places, too, are sacred, not because we have built something there, but because they are part of God’s creation, where life thrives, and where we can feel a deep connection to the divine.

As we reflect on Solomon’s Temple, I invite you to consider how we can recognize and honor the sacred spaces in our own environment. How can we approach these natural places with the same reverence that the Israelites brought to the Temple?

II. The Role of the Stranger (1 Kings 8:41-43)

In the second part of our reading, Solomon prays for the foreigner—the stranger—who comes to the Temple. He asks that God hears the prayers of those who are not part of Israel so that “all the peoples of the earth may know your name and fear you.”

This is a radical inclusivity in worship, recognizing that the presence of God is not confined to one people or one place. It’s a powerful reminder that God’s love and presence are for all, and that we are called to welcome the stranger, to extend our care and compassion beyond our immediate community.

There is a deep ecological parallel here. Just as Solomon prays for the foreigner, we must extend our care for creation beyond our immediate environment. The challenges we face—climate change, species loss, pollution—are not confined to one region or one people. They are global challenges that connect us to a larger, global community.

Let me share a story that highlights this connection. In the 13th century, St. Francis of Assisi, a figure well-known for his love of all creatures, referred to the sun, moon, and even death as his “brothers” and “sisters.” He saw all of creation as part of one family, interconnected and equally loved by God. In his famous Canticle of the Sun, he praises God for the elements of creation, recognizing their value not just for humanity but for all life.

Closer to home, we can look to the Gullah/Geechee communities along the South Carolina coast. These communities have long understood the importance of living in harmony with the land and the sea. They’ve worked to protect their environment, recognizing that their culture and spirituality are deeply intertwined with the health of the ecosystems around them.

As we think about the stranger, the foreigner, and the interconnectedness of all creation, let’s ask ourselves: How can we extend our care for the environment to those places and creatures we may never see, but whose well-being is connected to our own?

III. The Call to Reimagine Our Relationship with Creation

This brings us to a crucial point: the call to reimagine our relationship with creation. My own journey in studying ecological theology has led me to explore how ancient and medieval understandings of ecology can inform our current approach to environmental stewardship.

In these earlier times, people often viewed themselves as part of a larger, living world, not separate from it. They understood that their well-being was directly tied to the health of the environment. They saw themselves as participants in creation, not just consumers of it.

In South Carolina, we have a unique opportunity to reimagine our relationship with the natural world. From the urban green spaces here in Columbia to the conservation efforts in our rural areas, we can take steps to protect and restore the environment, not just for our own sake but for the sake of future generations.

One practical way we can do this is by participating in local environmental initiatives. For example, the Congaree Riverkeeper is doing vital work to protect and preserve our rivers. Or consider supporting sustainable agriculture projects that not only provide healthy food but also care for the land.

Another concept that has emerged in my studies is the idea of an “ecological sabbath”—a time to disconnect from the busyness of life and reconnect with nature. This could be as simple as setting aside a few hours each week to spend time outdoors, to walk in the woods, to listen to the birds, and to reflect on our place in the web of life.

IV. Practical Applications: Living Out Our Ecological Spirituality

As we move towards the conclusion of our time together, I want to encourage each of you to think about how you can live out this ecological spirituality in your own lives. Here are a few steps we can take:

Explore Natural Areas with Reverence: Spend time in the natural areas around Columbia and South Carolina with a sense of reverence and stewardship. Recognize these spaces as sacred and approach them with care and respect.
Support Local Environmental Organizations: Consider getting involved with or supporting local organizations that are working to protect our environment. Groups like the Congaree Riverkeeper or the South Carolina Wildlife Federation are doing important work that we can all support.
Practice an Ecological Sabbath: Make time to disconnect from the noise of everyday life and reconnect with nature. Use this time to reflect on your relationship with creation and to seek God’s presence in the natural world. Even here in the scorching heat of Columbia in the Summer, there is God to be found amidst the humidity!

Psalm 84 says, “How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of hosts!” This verse reminds us that all of creation is a dwelling place for God, worthy of our respect and care. Whether it’s the towering trees of the Congaree, the rolling hills of the Piedmont, or the quiet marshes of the Lowcountry, these places are all part of God’s creation, and they are all sacred.

Conclusion:

As we close, I want to leave you with this thought: The Temple that Solomon built was a place where heaven and earth met, a place where people could come to feel the presence of God. But we are not limited to finding God’s presence in buildings. The entire earth is a sacred space, a place where we can encounter the divine.

Let us go forth with a renewed commitment to care for the earth as an act of faith, recognizing the sacredness in every part of creation. Let us see ourselves as participants in this beautiful, intricate web of life that God has created, and let us work together to protect and restore the world around us.

Closing Prayer:

Loving God, we thank you for the gift of creation, for the beauty of the earth, and the abundance of life that surrounds us. Help us to see all spaces, both built and natural, as sacred. Guide us in our stewardship of the earth, give us wisdom in our ecological decisions, and deepen our sense of connection to you and to all creation. May we go forth with hearts open to your presence in every corner of the world, committed to caring for your creation as an act of love and worship. In Your holy name, we pray. Amen.

Europe’s only Indigenous Group and a Growing Recognition of Ecotheology

How Europe’s only Indigenous group is inspiring a greener Christianity:

“Sámi traditions and our practices all have to do with collaboration — with the place, with animals, with everything that grows,” said Lovisa Mienna Sjöberg, a Sámi theologian at the Sámi University of Applied Sciences in Norway. “You should not take more than is your part to take.”

But more than 600 years after their first encounters with missionaries, Sámi communities are also some of northern Europe’s most devoutly Christian. Mixing Indigenous cosmology and ethics with Christian stories, imagery and theology, the Sámi have, over centuries, evolved a multilayered faith of their own, often in the face of bitter oppression and persecution by puritan churches and state authorities.

AI’s Awful Energy Consumption

Be mindful and intentional with technology tools…

Google and Microsoft report growing emissions as they double-down on AI : NPR:

“One query to ChatGPT uses approximately as much electricity as could light one light bulb for about 20 minutes,” he says. “So, you can imagine with millions of people using something like that every day, that adds up to a really large amount of electricity.”

Seafloor Sediment Superhighway

Not that bioturbation was on your “To Think About” list for today… but you should think about bioturbation and its role in the larger biosphere. Fascinating stuff!

Mapping the seafloor sediment superhighway | YaleNews:

“Our analysis suggests that the present global network of marine protected areas does not sufficiently protect important seafloor processes like bioturbation, indicating that protection measures need to be better catered to promote ecosystem health,” Tarhan said.