Blessing Earth on Earth Day

What are you doing to celebrate Earth Day this year?

Aware, as we are, of the places on the planet that are suffering and struggling because of war and climate change, it seems like nothing we can do is enough to make a difference. 

But in reading Robin Wall Kimmerer's beautiful book, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants (Minneapolis, Minnesota: Milkweed Editions 2013, ISBN978-1-57131-356-0), I was struck by her teaching that the Earth loves us by giving us everything we need for life -- not just the food we grow, but the air, water, soil and other beings with whom we share her abundance. 

So on Earth Day, though I can't personally do very much to slow the course of climate change or stop the war in Ukraine and other places, blessing the little patch of earth where I live -- in whatever ways I can -- makes sense to me.

Since it's a calm and somewhat sunny morning here, I carried out my annual ritual of scattering blessings around my garden. Using left over palms and dried cedar branches from Palm Sunday last year, some sage and tobacco, I made a little fire and sang El Senyor, a Taize song of thanksgiving, as it burned. This afternoon, I'll spread the ashes around the yard, using words like these:

Creator of all that is,

thank you for your abundant blessings

that come to us through Earth,

our Mother.

Thank you for all those who have lived here

over many centuries,

especially Indigenous Peoples

who lived in harmony

with all their relations,

and who have much to teach us.

Thank you for this soil,

which you have freely given

through the natural processes

of erosion and decomposition,

and for the seeds that only you can make to grow.

Bless this year's garden and help it to flourish:
bless the tomatoes and the berries,
the corn, beans, and squash,
and all other plant relations,
along with the birds, butterflies,
bees, spiders,
and others who visit
or live here.

Give us all enough warmth and sun, 
but not too much,
and rain when we need it.

Please protect this garden,
and all our gardens,
from drought or hail or damaging pests.

(And if you could keep the mosquito population to a dull roar,
I'd really appreciate it!)

Protect our trees from blight and strong winds,
and keep in your care the birds
who come to splash in the birdbath
or nibble the snow peas.

And if we should have one of THOSE storms,
may I be as gracious as Job and say,
"The Lord gives and the Lord takes away;
blessed be the name of the Lord."

Bless and help farmers with good weather conditions;
their gardens are so much bigger than mine!

I ask your special blessings on those who have had to flee

places where fertile earth is being pillaged by the ravages of war.

Please bring to us to a peace-filled harvest,
and help us to share our abundance with others who need it.

Break the hearts of the wealthy

so that they may do their part to share in the work

of adapting our world to climate change

and caring for those communities

and creatures that struggle most

because of it.

Thank you for all the life
that lives on this sacred planet.

Bless it,
and bless us,
and help us to remember
that your whole world
and all beings within it
form your beautiful and blessed garden
that deserves our love and care.

+Amen.

And then I'll give Mother Earth some sweet pea seeds so we can both delight in some fragrant summer flowers...

What are you doing to celebrate Earth Day this year?

Garden blessing

For the last several years, each Spring, I've followed a simple ritual to bless my garden. It started because I didn't really know what to do with my old blessed palms from previous Palm Sundays. I'd heard that if you didn't put them into the Ash Wednesday or Easter fires, you should burn them, but somehow that didn't seem like enough.

So I made up a little garden blessing ritual of my own. On a calm, windless day, I take my old palms out to the garden, dig a little pit, put them in it and light a match. I sing This Little Light of Mine (or other spiritual songs that have to do with light or fire) while the palms burn down to ashes. Then I sprinkle little bits of the ashes in the many corners of my garden, and finally the four corners of our yard. And I say little prayers aloud, that go something like this:

God,
thank you for your abundant blessings.

Thank you for this soil,
which you have given,
and for the seeds
that you will make to grow here.

Bless our garden and help it to flourish:
bless the tomatoes and the berries,
the potatoes and the squash,
and all the others,
along with the birds, butterflies,
bees, spiders,
and other creatures who visit
or live here.

(I hope the hummingbird comes back again this year!)

Give us all warmth and sun,
and rain when we need it.

Please protect this garden,
and all our gardens,
from drought or hail or damaging pests.

(And if you could keep the mosquito population to a dull roar,
I'd really appreciate it!)

Protect our trees from strong winds,
and the birds
who come to splash in the birdbath
or nibble the snow peas.

And if we should have one of THOSE storms,
may I be as gracious as Job and say,
"The Lord gives and the Lord takes away;
blessed be the name of the Lord."

(Oh, look, the first lady bug!)

And bless the farmers,
whose gardens are so much bigger than mine!

Please bring us all to a happy harvest,
and help us to share our abundance with others who need it.

Thank you for all the life
that lives in this sacred space.

Bless it,
and bless us,
and help us to remember
that your whole world
and all beings within it
form a beautiful and blessed garden
that deserves our love and care.

+Amen.

And once I've scattered the ashes and wandered around the yard, looking for little points of green, I fill in my little fire pit and go look for the packet of sweet peas I ordered from the garden catalogue.

Let the planting begin!