The birds sing a chorus of praise to God from sunrise to sunset and throughout the night. “It is customary for the birds at nesting time ‘to charm the sky with song,’ in joy that their allotted task is done. This usually happens, following, as it were, a ritual pattern, at dawn and at sunset, when the birds sing the praises of their Creator, at the moment of transition from day to night or night to day” (Ambrose, V.12.36). A chorus of song heralds the start of a new day. “Would that the nightingale were to give forth a song to arouse a sleeper from his slumber! That is the bird accustomed to signal the rising of the sun at dawn and to spread abroad joy more penetrating than morning light. Still, if sweetness is lacking in their song, we have with us the moaning turtle-dove, the cooing pigeon, and ‘the raven who with deep tones calls down the rain.’” During the day, the “natural chant” of swan’s song fills the air with “strains of most tuneful and delightful music” (Ambrose, V.12.39). In the evening, birds “conceal themselves in their hiding places, saluting the close of day with a song, lest they depart without offering such thanks as a creature owes to glorify his Creator” (Ambrose, V.24.84). The descent of darkness does not end the birds’ performance. “Night also has its songs wherewith to soothe the hearts of men who lie awake. The night owl, too, makes a contribution of song” (Ambrose,V.24.85).
As Ambrose approaches the end of the Hexameron, he turns his attention to the creation of man and woman in the divine image. After extolling the musicality of the birds of the sky, Ambrose switches his artistic metaphor to portraits when describing the unique place humanity enjoys in creation. Based on the passage from Isaiah, “Behold, Jerusalem, I have painted the walls” (49:16), Jerusalem is interpreted allegorically to refer to the soul. “That soul of yours is painted by God, who holds in Himself the flashing beauty of virtue and the splendor of piety. That soul is well painted in which shines the imprint of divine operation . . . Precious is that picture which in its brilliance is in accord with that divine reflection” (Ambrose, VI.6.42).
Just like pollution and the effects of time can obscure the brilliance of a famous portrait, sin has a corrosive effect on the soul. The Christian life, then, becomes a continual process of preservation and restoration. “Man has been depicted by the Lord God, his artist. He is fortunate in having a craftsman and a painter of distinction. He should not erase that painting, one that is a product of truth, not a semblance, a picture, expressed not in mere wax, but in the grace of God” (VI.8.47).
When the human soul displays its beauty in all its brilliance to God and neighbor, it is the most splendid portrait on exhibition in God’s gallery that is filled with countless exquisite works.
Sallie McFague’s Life Abundant
While the theologian Sallie McFague shares Basil’s and Ambrose’s sense of wonderment at the beauty and harmony of the natural world, her theological vision is tempered by an anguished concern about the present state of our environment. In her 2001 work, Life Abundant, McFague calls for a revision of our current cultural and theological worldview so that we can envision a way of life that is focused on the well-being of the planet rather than on satisfying the insatiable demands of a consumer society. “My reflections coalesce around this point: what I have learned about who God is, who we are, and where we fit into the scheme of things tells me that the one thing needful in a theology for twenty-first century North American middle-class Christians is an alternative view of the abundant life from that of our consumer society. Life Abundant is about this reconstruction.”16 Her book falls into three parts: a discussion of the theological positions underpinning her proposal; a comparison of a worldview presented in neo-classical economics and that promoted in her ecological economic worldview; and an account of how we can better understand the meaning of God, Christ, and the world in our twenty-first-century context.
McFague begins by identifying “the relative absolute” that animates her theology. She defines a “relative absolute” as “a central conviction that is neither a foundation nor the ‘essence’ of Christianity, but a deeply held, abiding insight into God’s relation with us . . . my relative absolute is that we give God glory by loving the world and everything in it.”17 This core conviction steers a middle course between “ideological absolutism” and “radical relativism.”18 While “theological statements . . . are risky, partial uncertain assertions made by relative historically bound creatures about universal matters—God, world, and human beings,” they also represent a thinker’s deepest conviction about what is most universally true.19 It is from the vantage point of this “relative absolute” that McFague evaluates two competing worldviews: the neo-classical economic model and McFague’s own “ecological economic model.” “The first model sees the planet as a corporation or syndicate, as a collection of individual human beings drawn together to benefit its members by optimal use of natural resources. The second model sees the planet more like an organism or a community that survives and prospers through the interrelationship and interdependence of its many parts, both human and nonhuman.”20 Emphasizing the “relative” pole of “the relative absolute” McFague notes that as worldviews, both are interpretations of reality and descriptions of reality.21 They are both models of socially constructed reality, and as such, are capable of being altered. Emphasizing the “absolute” pole, however, McFague insists that the choice between models is not a theologically neutral one. “A working definition of Christian theology,” writes McFague, “as I understand it, goes like this: Theology is reflection on experiences of God’s liberating love from various contexts and within the Christian community.”22 This returns us to McFague’s “relative absolute”—our worldview is limited, partial, and historically conditioned, but the Christian tradition boldly stakes a claim that God’s love is a liberating love offered to all creation, and so that by loving the earth, we give glory to God.
In the final part of Life Abundant McFague analyzes how God, Christ, and the life of Christian discipleship appear differently when viewed through the interpretive lens of the neoclassical economic model and the ecological economic model. We begin, then, with the contrasting understandings of the God-world relationship in the two models. The dominant image of nature in the neoclassical economic model is that of a machine. The physical world operates according to certain immutable laws that modern physics has been able to express mathematically. God in turn ensures the constant operation of these laws. McFague sees in this model a distant God who does not “interfere” with the normal functioning of the world. In the ecological economic model, organic imagery dominates. The world is metaphorically God’s body. Distancing herself from a pantheistic interpretation of this image, McFague insists that while the world is in God, it is not identical to God. “With the metaphor of the world as God’s body, God as the agent or spirit in and through all that is (as our spirits are the energizers of our bodies) we can imagine a united view of God and the world, which does not, however, identify them.”23
The God-world relationship suggested in each of the economic models shapes how we view Christ and the nature of