On Knowledge of Creation through Work

As we discussed last week, the Christian view of nature involves a commandment for humans to work the land and to utilize its resources. But does this vision collide with the ability to truly respect nature? Are human work and environmental protection inevitably at odds with each other? The historian Richard White addressed this question in his 1995 essay, 'Are You an Environmentalist or Do You Work for a Living?": Work and Nature. "How is it that environmentalism seems opposed to work?" he asks. "And how is it that work has come to play such a small role in American environmentalism?"

To begin with, White makes clear that "virtually no place is without evidence of its alteration by human labor." The idyllic image of a pristine and virgin land is a myth. If we are to think of human beings as the enemies of nature, then we must resign ourselves to the fact that hardly a place on the face of the earth has remained unconquered by the work of human hands. The good news is that the fate of the environment is not doomed by the ubiquity of human influence. The social doctrine of the Catholic Church tells us that "in the Creator's plan, created realities, which are good in themselves, exist for man's use" (Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church, 255). Furthermore, rather than viewing human beings as nature's enemies, we may instead view ourselves as part and parcel of the earth itself. We are dirt and to dirt we will return (Genesis 3:19). Ultimately, human work that is rightly ordered encourages rather than undermines our appreciation for nature.


White points out that, in the process of changing nature through our work, humans have simultaneously increased their knowledge of nature:

Humans have known nature by digging in the earth, planting seeds, and harvesting plants. They have known nature by feeling heat and cold, sweating as they went up hills, sinking into mud. They have known nature by shaping wood and stone, by living with animals, nurturing them, and killing them. Humans have matched their energy against the energy of flowing water and wind. They have known distance as more than an abstraction because of the physical energy they expended moving through space. They have tugged, pulled, carried, and walked, or hey have harnessed the energy of animals, water, and wind to do these things for them. They have achieved a bodily knowledge of the natural world.

This knowledge is invaluable. St. Thomas Aquinas taught that knowledge of nature is central to what it meant for humans to have had mastery over nature before the Fall. In the state of innocence, he says, man was not invited to have dominion over the rest of Creation in order to use animals for meat, clothing, or work, but rather "in order to have experimental knowledge of their natures" (Summa, I, 96, 1). After the Fall, these additional purposes for Creation became necessary in many cases, but we must never forget the universal necessity of the original purpose: humans have mastery over Creation so that they can gain knowledge of Creation; and, in White's view, one of the best ways to gain knowledge of nature is through human work on the land.

However, White laments, "Modern environmentalism lacks an adequate consideration of this work. Most environmentalists disdain and distrust those who most obviously work in nature. . . . Environmentalists usually imagine that when people who make things finish their day's work, nature is poorer for it." Instead of work, environmentalists propose leisure and play as the proper means of forming a connection with the land. But leisure is not an adequate basis for such a connection; it is work that more truly strikes at the core of what it means to survive and to depend upon the earth for sustenance. It is work, or play that mimics work, that makes us most fully aware of our bodies as they interact with the other parts of Creation.

White claims that one root of this naïve view is a particular myth that parallels the Creation narrative itself: human beings once lived a leisurely existence in harmony with nature, but destroyed both nature and their leisure when they experienced a cataclysmic fall from grace by taking up the occupation of work. (Daniel Quinn's theories promote such a story.) Christian theology, especially from a Thomistic lens, has a different view. It is true that the first humans in the garden were not in want and that they lived harmoniously with nature. However, it was man's sin of pride, not his work, that sullied his relationship with the created world. This sin increased the necessity for certain work ("by the sweat of one's brow"; Genesis 3:17,19), but the work itself was not the sin. In fact, as noted above, work leads to an intimate knowledge of Creation, which is humans' highest purpose for enjoying dominion over it.

The Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church (CSDC) tells us that, "Work is part of the original state of man and precedes his fall; it is therefore not a punishment or curse" (256). St. Thomas specifies what kind of work this was—the work of naming: "God led the animals to man, that he might give them names expressive of their respective natures" (Summa, I, 96, 1). Such work demands and extracts intimate knowledge of the animals, for it is impossible to give a name respective of a subject's nature without first becoming aware of that nature. In the same way, White highlights the knowledge gained through work with draft animals and circus animals. In a certain sense, a veterinarian whose work it is to heal an animal knows its nature more intimately than a pet owner whose hobby it is to play with it. At the very least, the sportsman must know the nature of his dog more intimately than the leisurely owner must. People who work with animals, rather than simply possess them and play with them, continue the sacred work that Adam was commissioned to do in the garden.

White's essay contains a tension with an opposing view offered by environmental journalist Bill McKibben, whose writing stresses how a blurring of the lines between human industry and 'nature' may be spiritually damaging because it takes away our ability to "imagine that we are part of something larger than ourselves." How might this sense of awe be retained, given that human influence on the earth is already ubiquitous? Are we forced to admit that human work inevitably undermines this awe? Psalm 8 might offer us an answer. The psalmist is acutely aware of the need to be humble before Creation, but nonetheless praises and thanks God for offering it to us for our own use and benefit. Perhaps it is precisely this humility and gratitude that should encourage us to be faithful stewards of Creation. And perhaps, in turn, it is the intimate knowledge of Creation that comes through work that intensifies our awe for it. Maybe we should not be categorically afraid of blurring the line between 'man' and 'wild' but rather of more specifically blurring it in the wrong ways: ways that a) diminish our awe for the things that God has made, or b) allow us to forget whom Creation truly belongs to — which, surely, was the very essence of Adam's and Eve's sin in the garden.

It is sometimes difficult to determine just which kind of work is in accordance with the Christian vision of Creation, but we can nonetheless delineate some central principles.

1. Gaining experimental knowledge of other creatures is the original purpose of human work, according to St. Thomas Aquinas. White claims that work rather than leisure is the surest way to gain such experimental knowledge.
2. Strenuous work was not necessary before the Fall, but is now necessary for the good of people, e.g. their health, nutrition, warmth, and freedom from unnecessary further labor. 
3. Work should be ordered toward a just distribution of resources: "The demand of justice, which stems from [the fear of the Lord], precedes concerns for profit" (CSDC, 257). 
4. Work should not allow us to forget that "life is more than food and the body more than clothing" (Luke 12:23) and should not fuel pursuits of consumerism or excessive comfort.
5. The activity of work should never undermine the awe that we naturally feel toward Creation nor the gratitude that is due to the Creator for having given it to human beings as a gift. Above all, it should not be abusive or destructive: "The dominion exercised by man over other living creatures, however, is not to be despotic or reckless . . . Cultivating the earth means not abandoning it to itself; exercising dominion over it means taking care of it, as a wise king cares for his people and a shepherd his sheep" (CSDC, 255).

Questions for consideration:

White wrote his essay in 1995. Would his assessment of modern environmentalism be more generous if he were surveying the movement as it exists today? In your experience, do most environmentalists talk about human work disparagingly?

In what ways has your work (or play that mimics work) increased your knowledge of Creation, and therefore your appreciation for the Creator?

White says that non-industrial work on the land is not necessarily better than industrialized work. In your opinion, what are the types of work that best give us "experimental knowledge of [the] natures" of God's creatures?

How can Psalm 8 help us to resolve the competing visions held by Richard White and Bill McKibben?