“In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth” (Gen. 1:1).
In December, 1968, the crew of the Apollo 8 mission became the first men to travel to and orbit the Moon. They took some of the first photographs of the Earth as seen from space, and were the first to see “earthrise”, the appearance of the green and blue orb of the Earth over the bleak lunar landscape. And on Christmas Eve, before beginning their voyage back to Earth, astronauts Borman, Anders, and Lovell read the story of Creation from the Book of Genesis, broadcast back to Earth. Many people say these that images of the Earth and the experience of “earthrise” changed the way we look at the universe and the human situation. Whether they intended it or not by reading from the ancient text, the crew of Apollo 8 set their own experience within a theological framework, of God’s relationship to the cosmos and humanity’s relationship to God, and also framed it for us.
The Creation, the cosmos, is the great artifact, the chief work of the Maker. Beautiful and complex, mysterious and terrifying in parts, it reflects the glory of God. If by their works we shall know them, then we know God through his handiwork. I used to wonder at folks who told me they felt closer to God when they were surrounded by nature, especially when they were golfers. But there is some wisdom there. God has revealed himself, and whether you are on the golf course or peering out of the space capsule, you are still within the framework of what God has done and what it means for you.
For we are part of the artifact. What is abroad in Creation is love: the love that is revealed in the making of humanity in God’s image and likeness. There’s a bit of God’s character in us. Love refuses to be alone; in fact, it cannot be alone, because it’s the very nature of love to seek the other. So God, before he makes anything, is first the Father who begets the Son, the One who is loved before all things. Love is at the very heart of Who God is, the love we see on the cross; and it is that love which overflows in the world and in the people that God has made, through the power of the Spirit. Our role in Creation seems to be to peer out of the window of the capsule, see the Earth rise, and reflect back the love that has been revealed.
When Paul the Apostle greets the congregation in Corinth with “the love of God” (2 Cor. 13:13), he’s reminding us that it is love that is at the heart of God’s relationship with us. That’s the frame. “Put things in order, listen to my appeal, agree with one another, live in peace; and the God of love and peace will be with you” (2 Cor. 13:11). In the Church, we have the opportunity to be that holy community called to love God and to love the neighbor. Our love, too, needs to overflow, in charity to those who are close and to those who are distant. “Charity”, of course, is a word that means love, and right now there are many who are in need of our love. Perhaps it is the case that it’s only from the orbit of the moon that we can really tell how closely connected we all are.
Orbit of the moon or not, it’s only by looking out the window that we gain the true perspective, discover the proper frame. We search the heavens and the earth for the signs of God’s presence, and for the signs of God’s love. So what do we see today? We might see our baptismal candidate, and the folks who are being confirmed and received today. They are giving us the opportunity to remember our own calling as Christians, and the frame within which we all exist. What do you see from your capsule window? Do you see the glory of God, his love for you? It’s there, the most beautiful and scary thing in the world; God’s love, all around us and within us.
The Rt. Rev’d John Bauerschmidt, Bishop of Tennessee