Am I creation’s keeper, a steward of this earth, a singular vocation, to measure all its worth? As humans we must nurture, the land, the sea, the air, for all we see around us is handed to our care.
Yet lost in self-obsession, not feeding human need, our greatest occupation, is meeting human greed; we cull and kill creation, exterminate at will, we hanker and we hunger for more than just our fill.
The seas become polluted, the forests burnt or felled, the air a noxious fluid, its temperature not held. The world, unfit for purpose, destroyed by human choice? We need to hear the prophets, to raise up every voice.
No faith or creed or preference, exceeds our need for life, this planet, all its value, will it survive our strife? When human life has ended, this home left scarred and torn, will God not weep with anger, that we were ever born?
One time they would not spare the rod,
for fear to spoil the child.
But now the ones who claim to ‘know’
will spoil the child by different means,
an algorithm sets the scene
and plots where they will go.
I watched the beginning of a film of Jane Eyre. Jane was beaten. Today, still with less of a eye on the welfare of children we rarely use the rod. It has been replaced with algorithms…financial balance sheets and privilege seem to occupy the bottom line…