(Delivered at Conference 2 of the Catholic Bishops Conference of the Philippines’ annual holy retreat held at the Monastery of the Transfiguration in Malaybalay City on the theme “Synod Spirituality: Embracing Ecology in the Light of Laudato Si’ and Laudate Deum” on July 2 to 4, 2024)
This second conference is “Jesus and the Cosmos: Reflections on Ecological Theology”. In this conference, we would like to ask for: (1) the grace of insight to re-read theology from the perspective of ecology and, (2) the grace of courage to go beyond our anthropocentric theological categories towards a more holistic relationship with God and creation.
We have chosen a reading from the beginning of the Gospel of John (1: 1-5, 14).
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into beingin him was life, and the life was the light of all people.The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overtake it… And the Word became flesh and lived among us…”
Three insights about the Scripture passage:
- This old Christological hymn tells us that the Word is personified Jesus, the Word which became flesh. Incarnation is a central event in our faith.
- Before Jesus, the Word has a long history. Reminiscent of the first sentence of Genesis — “in the beginning” — the Word was with God even before creation. The Word is the source of all things that exists — the foundation of the Big Bang, the Milky Way, the sun and its planets, the bacteria and clams, the trees and mountains, the chimpanzees and humans.
- The Word became “flesh”. It does not say: the word became “man”. God was incarnated Godself in the flesh, in matter, in the whole fleshly creation.
For this conference, I would like to re-read some central theological themes from the perspective of ecology and see its repercussions in our spiritual life and pastoral practice. To connect it with the Synod Spirituality, we read a very hopeful statement in the Synthesis Report: “Church teaching, liturgy, and practice must more explicitly and carefully integrate the biblical and theological foundations of integral ecology” (SR 4q).[1] Beyond the concrete ethical and practical demands which this body will tackle somewhere in the end of your retreat, I would like to explore the deeper theological and Christological foundations of ecological spirituality.
Let me first start with a recent event. Hours before his death, Fr. Amado Picardal, CSsR wrote a poem for Bruno, his dog companion in his hermitage. He posted it on his Facebook page last May 29 at 7:37 in the morning as reflection on the 47th anniversary of his profession. Hours after, the Redemptorist Province announced his passing. This poem was the last piece that he had written in his long career. It is entitled: “A Hermit’s Companion”.[2]
Every morning upon waking up
I call out your name from my window
and you’d come running and wait outside my door wagging your tail
expecting a pat on the head and a fistful of kibble.
As I sit in the dark gazing at the distant sea below,
while waiting for the sun to emerge
you’d sit at my feet and join me at Lauds – praising the Creator
for another new day.
While building the hermitage
made of stone, cordwood, and bottles
I call your name and you’d come
to inspect the work of my hands
and scratch the pile of sand and bottles.
In the evening as I sit alone
gazing at the stars and waning moon
you’d come and sit at my feet
to join me in thanking the Creator
for the day that is over and
praying to see another dawn.
I hope, companion in my solitude, that you’ll always be with me
till the end of our days.
Whoever will go first, I know
one of us won’t be consoled
while gazing at the grave.
Bruno, I’m grateful for your presence in the twilight of my life
as I prepare for my final journey to eternity to meet face to face
the One I love to whom I sacrificed my whole life.
I hope dogs are also welcome in the heavenly home.
Fr. Picx was a good friend to many of us here. He is known in the Philippine church as an advocate of justice and peace. He also worked in organizing communities and served the CBCP BEC Commission for years. He was the first to document the extrajudicial killings in Davao long before the War on Drugs started in Manila. For this, he risked his life. But in this poem, beyond his passion for justice, he is concerned with his dog, his companion in solitude at the “twilight of my life.” His last hope: “I hope dogs are also welcome in the heavenly home.”
Years ago, we still remember that Pope Francis was misquoted to have said: “One day we will see our pets in the eternity of Christ. Paradise open to all God’s creatures.” Later, New York Times corrected itself. It was Pope Paul VI said that while consoling a young boy who lost his pet.[3]
In fact, Fr. Picx only repeated and poetically expressed what Laudato Si’ already proclaimed earlier: “We are called to recognize that other living beings have a value of their own in God’s eyes: ‘by their mere existence they bless him and give him glory’ (LS 69). The dog joins him at Lauds praising the Creator as they together wait for another day. Or, together with the stars and the moon, they thank the Creator for the day that is over and praying to see another dawn.
Without his saying it, Picx echoes the spirit of the prayer of St. Francis of Assisi: Laudato Si’… “Praised be you, my Lord, with all your creatures” (LS, 87). “The Spirit of life dwells in every living creature and calls us to enter into relationship with him” (LS, 88).
The Theology of Laudato Si’
I would like to reflect with you the Theology of Laudato Si’ itself. Just to give us some context, it might help us to get an overview of Laudato Si.’ The encyclical has seven chapters. One can easily see the hand of Pope Francis in its outline — the method of see-judge-act present from the Aparecida document to the rest of his encyclicals as Pope. I would like to focus my reflection on Chapter II: The Gospel of Creation (LS 62-100) — the judging part of the document, the pope’s basic theological reflection on ecology. There are two parts: theology of creation and Christology.
Theology of Creation: Culture of Care
The most developed theological area in Laudato Si’ is its creation theology. It is extensively developed in quite long text (33 paragraphs). For our purposes, let me mention four phrases to summarize its main points: (a) “Nature is not divine” (LS 78); (b) “We are not God” (LS 67); (c) “Each creature is willed in its own being” (LS 69); (d) “Everything is interconnected” (LS 168).
First, “Nature is not divine” (LS 78). Against pantheist notions of nature, the Judaeo-Christian tradition has already demythologized and demystified nature. It is against what many call “biologism” of scientific and New Age groups. We do not worship “nature” — not the trees and mountains nor sun and cows. God has given us humans a dignity and responsibility to develop and care for nature. The central text in Laudato S
i’ comes from Gen. “The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it.” (Gen. 2:15). Human responsibility for creation is twofold: “tilling” and “keeping” — first, to cultivate, improve and develop the earth; second, to take care of, protect, and preserve it.
This fragile world of ours is “entrusted by God to human care, challenges us to devise intelligent ways of directing, developing and limiting our power” (LS 78). In front of God’s creation, we look at ourselves either as responsible stewards or loving companions to creation. But our vocation is “to care” and not “to dominate”, to “keep” and not to squander for our use. With this responsibility for caring comes many other things Laudato Si’ exhorts us to do: to ensure equal distribution the goods of the earth especially to the poor, to mitigate carbon footprints, to change our lifestyle, to divest investments from mining companies, to be responsible in the use of our resources, etc. Many of these responsibilities we need to seriously reflect on as churches and dioceses.
Second: “We are not God.” (LS 67). This is one of the bravest proclamations written in an encyclical. This second statement is an assertion against anthropocentrism — the main cause of present environmental degradation. The issue is so crucial that Pope Francis devotes one whole chapter in Laudato Si — “The Human Roots of the Ecological Crisis” (LS 101-136). If we go back to our theological studies, we have actually inherited a theology which sees at “man” — mainly man — as the pinnacle of God’s creation. In a majestic succession, we were created last. In a hierarchical sequence reminiscent of Priestly liturgical language of Genesis 1, the last is the highest, the best of them all — not very different from our liturgical processions. We have been trained in this pyramidic theological framework, and we humans assert our place on the top of the pyramid. That is why we feel we have the right “to have dominion,” “to subdue” the rest of creation — an obvious misunderstanding of the first creation narrative (Gen. 1:28). We look at ourselves as gods, and the rest as “properties” at our disposal, for our use, instruments for human perfection.
In 1967, a philosopher, Lynn White, wrote a landmark article which actually was very short —mere five pages— but is still referred to until now. He blames Christian theology of dominion as the cause of ecological crisis. “Christianity not only established a dualism of man and nature,” he writes, “but also insisted that it is God’s will that man exploit nature for his proper end.”[4] Without referring to him, Laudato Si’ refutes Lynn White. No, it says: “We are not gods… that the earth was already here before us.”
If we are to believe the evolutionary process, humans only came last. The American theologian, Elizabeth Johnson,[5] wants us to imagine how late human beings have arrived at the creation scene: the universe is 13.8 billion years old; the solar system with the sun and planets came to existence 5 billion years ago; life appeared on the earth 3.5 billion years ago; and homo sapiens only first appeared 200,000 – 100,000 years ago in the African savanna. Carl Sagan helps us to make it graspable by thinking of it in one-year timeframe. The Big Bang took place on January 1, the Milky Way galaxy was formed on May 11, the solar system, sun and its planets on September 1. Life on earth started on September 21 — around the last quarter of time. And human beings only came at 8 minutes to midnight of December 31.[6] Laudato Si’ is right: “The earth was truly here before us.”
Third, “Each is willed in its own being” (LS 69). Laudato Si’ writes: “Each creature possesses its own particular goodness and perfection… Each of the various creatures, willed in its own being, reflects in its own way a ray of God’s infinite wisdom and goodness” (LS, 69). Interestingly, this quotation is an echo of a document considered to be conservative by many — Catechism of the Catholic Church (CCC 339). We have been trained in a philosophy which says that only human beings are “willed for their own sakes” (Aristotle) or are “ends-in-themselves” (Kant). It took the West sometime to even acknowledge it. Human autonomy coupled with human rights was supposed to be an achievement of modern Western philosophy. That means that we cannot instrumentalize human beings. We have to fight for human dignity because humans are not properties for other’s consumption (ends in themselves). Hindi pwedeng gamitin ang tao dahil hindi siya bagay. Siya ay tao.
But today, we are challenged to go beyond that. We say that dogs, mountains, flowers are willed by God in their own beings. They have a perfection which is theirs; and which only they can achieve in their own beings. The fulfillment of their beings is not merely found in human use, but for the particular goodness willed by God for them. “In our time, the Church does not simply state that other creatures are completely subordinated to the good of human beings, as if they have no worth in themselves and can be treated as we wish” (LS 69). For all creatures — humans and others included — our “being” is above “utility.” [7] We have to rethink the way we look at ourselves vis-à-vis God’s creation.
Fourth, “Everything is interconnected” (LS 138). Long time ago, Joey Ayala popularized a song “Ang lahat ng bagay ay magkaugnay.” Laudato Si’ writes: “It cannot be emphasized enough how everything is interconnected. Time and space are not independent of one another, and not even atoms or subatomic particles can be considered in isolation… A good part of our genetic code is shared by many living beings.” (LS, 138).
To add color to our scientific imagination, our DNAs are 90 % in common with mice, dogs, cows and elephants; or 98-99% identical with chimpanzees. We are not gods. There is so much in common with us and the rest of creation. “The nitrogen in our DNA, the calcium in our teeth, the iron in our blood, the carbon in our apple pies were made in the interiors of collapsing stars. We are made of starstuff.”[8]
So, instead of imagining a pyramid why not move into a circle — with us humans belonging to a community of God’s creatures. Maybe beyond “stewardship,” we can think of other models like kinship, friendship or companionship or caring relationship. A steward, no matter how responsible, is still a detached person, someone who is far away. He or she is in charge of the proper “use of things.” A kinsfolk, a brother or sister, a “kapwa,” a caring companion, is someone intimate who we can easily feel the earth’s cry and suffering in our lives.
In fact, Pope Francis is moving away from the language of “stewardship” to the language of “care”. In Laudato Si’, “stewardship” is only mentioned two times in 2 times out of 42,000 words (LS 116, 236) while “care” and “culture of care” appears around 33 times, starting from the subtitle of the encyclical itself (Care for our Common Home). “[O]ne can be a good steward without feeling connected,” Cardinal Turkson comments on Laudato Si’, “If one cares, however, one is connected. To care is to allow oneself to be affected by another, so much so that one’s path and priorities change… With caring, the hard line between self and other softens, blurs, even disappears.”[9]
Jesus and the Cosmos: Deep Incarnation, Deep Cross and Resurrection
Most ecological theologies are creation-centered theologies. For instance, Laudato Si’ has 33 paragraphs dedicated to the whole theology of creation (LS 62-95), while only the last five paragraphs do we have a Christology (“The Gaze of Jesus”) (LS, 96-100). Following its lead, we can augment some lacuna and ask: “What has Jesus got to do with this? How does God’s incarnation in Jesus, his ministry, his death and resurrection be read from the perspective of ecological concerns?”[10]
First, the ministry of Jesus is decidedly earthy, worldly, physical and material. Jesus uses spittle to heal, touches lepers with his hands, enjoys meals with friends and sinners. Jesus went about healing bodies, liberating the marginalized, reaching out to the excluded. But we do not stop there: the whole earth, God’s creation, are also subjects of Jesus’ compassion. In his parables, he includes them all — wildflowers and cornfields, five sparrows and pennies, mustard seeds and big trees, lost sheep and lost coin, salt and light, bread and wine, etc. The Kingdom is about eating and drinking, marrying and feasting, or the coming of the “new heavens and a new earth.” Jesus’ theology is like the Gnostic or dualistic religions popular during his times. The Kingdom he proclaims is not so much about souls, but about the spirit of Abba present in world, the body, the earth.
Second, if we reflect on the incarnation, it is about “God becoming flesh.” The gospel of John we quoted earlier writes: “The Word was made flesh.” It did not say “the Word was made “man” (anthropos) but “flesh” (sarx). If Chalcedon is right that Jesus is truly God and truly human, then like all humans, he is also made of clay, of the earth, as Genesis 2 tells us. In traditional interpretations, to be made of “clay” means to be subject of human weakness, “marupok, namamatay, mahina — tulad ng alabok.”
But from a different perspective, Jesus— the God who became “flesh”— is also part of that long evolutionary history which all humans are. He is not some sort of ghost injected into matter from space or from somewhere else. His DNA is like the rest of creation, like all of us. Theologians interpret it in different manners. One Danish theologian, Neils Gregersen, talks about “deep incarnation.” He writes: “Deep incarnation suggests that God not only tolerates material existence, but also accepts it and incorporates it in a divine embrace. Incarnation is about a radical divine self-embodiment that reaches into in the roots (radices) of biological existence, including processes of growth as well as decay, cooperation as well as competition.”[11] In short, the “sarx” in John’s gospel is beyond the cells of human beings. “Sarx” is the structure of all God’s created things — from the Big Bang up to our times. And the Word assumed all “sarx” so that this worldly flesh will be healed.
Third, consequently, in Jesus’ suffering, the whole material creation suffers with him. The evangelists expressed it in dramatic language. Mark says “darkness came over the whole world” (Mk. 15: 33; Mt. 27: 45). In Christ’s suffering, the whole material creation also dies with him, groans with him as we wait for the redemption of our bodies. Matthew was more descriptive: “And behold, the veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth quaked, rocks were split, tombs were opened, and the bodies of many saints who had fallen asleep were raised” (Mt. 27: 51-52).
There is a very popular verse in ecological discourses from the letter of St. Paul to the Romans about the frail inward groaning of the whole cosmos and its accompanying hope: “We know that the whole creation has been groaning together as it suffers together the pains of labor, and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies” (Rom. 8: 22-23). Borrowing from Gregersen, the feminist theologian, Elizabeth Johnson, introduces the term “deep cross and resurrection.” Let me quote her in full:
“The cross is a mysterious and profound sign that God enters into our darkest trials of human suffering, death and near despair. In solidarity with the human race, Jesus crucified and risen abides in intimate contact with all people who walk through the valley of the shadow of death… [Yet] the logic of the deep incarnation gives a strong warrant for extending divine solidarity from the cross into the groan of suffering and the silence of death of all creatures.”[12]
But in Christ’s resurrection, the whole cosmos rises with him. He was not only “the firstborn of all creation, for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created” (Col 1: 16). He is also the “first born from the dead.” St. Paul continues: “He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything” (Col. 1: 18).[13]
In short, the divine solidarity with all suffering creation brings Godself into all fleshly beings who are perishing in utter pain and darkness—humans and non-humans alike—and share with them a glimmer of the resurrection. Of course, all beings follow the cycle of life, of birth and death. But the cross of Jesus brings God’s solidarity into the depths of all our groaning until all creation will be restored in Christ.
The tree of the cross, however, is not the last word. Easter in many countries is the season of spring. Flowers blossom, shoots sprout, birds chirp, and light appears on the horizon. The Easter liturgy is a liturgy of bodiliness, cosmological and creaturely existence. In the Easter vigil, there is a living eco-drama unfolding in front of our very eyes: the rituals of darkness and light, water and oil, leaves and flower, wine and bread. These symbols of God’s creation remind us that Jesus is risen. “In Christ’s resurrection, the earth itself arose,” writes St. Ambrose of Milan.
The lyrics of the Exultet sang at the Easter vigil shows this intimate connection between Jesus’ resurrection and the rejoicing of the whole cosmos. Exultet is a hymn to the heavens and the earth telling them to rejoice because Jesus is truly risen.
“Exult, let them exult, the hosts of heaven,
exult, let Angel ministers of God exult,
let the trumpet of salvation
sound aloud our mighty King’s triumph!
Be glad, let earth be glad, as glory floods her,
ablaze with light from her eternal King,
let all corners of the earth be glad,
knowing an end to gloom and darkness…”
Since my childhood in Oslob, Cebu, I have always followed the Good Friday processions. I have been wondering why the Santo Entierro is the most glorious, most lighted, most beautiful among the carrosas in the Good Friday procession — ironically full of flowers and leaves, of brightness and light, of hope and life — even as all the images are covered with purple and the altars are lonely and bare. I later saw an answer to my question in faraway Rome. In the apse of the church of San Clemente, there is a 12th century mosaic that fills the whole space: the cross as a tree of life. On the mosaic is the whole of creation with the cross at its center — with doves and fountain, deer and birds, feeding chicken and cattle, a grapevine and a monk writing a book. The cross which is the sign of shame and death is truly a tree of life. The death of Jesus and his rising is also the resurrection of the whole creation.[14]
By Way of Conclusion: The Feast of Creation
In the later part of this retreat, there will be an invitation for you to decide on a specific date for the Feast of Creation in unison with the whole church and to elevate it to an official liturgical feast in the whole church. This is not new to us. We have been celebrating Creation Day and Creation Time since 2003. Last year, 55 dioceses out of 85 (roughly two-thirds) participated in the celebrations. The invitation is to raise awareness for the faithful to meaningfully celebrate creation. The theme for the Feast of Creation is “Lex Orandi, Lex Credendi, Lex Vivendi.” The liturgical celebration of God as Creator (Lex Orandi) will nourish the faithful’s appreciation of the great mystery of Creation (Lex Credendi), ultimately encouraging a more ethical relationship with the created world (Lex Vivendi).
To end my sharing, I just would like to say: maybe this is one of the missing components in ecological theologies and advocacy. I would like to say that Laudato Si’ is not just about scientific analysis of globalization and climate change, not only about counting our carbon footprints, or the advantages of recycling. It is not just about protesting against mining or advocacy against illegal logging. It is about all these but, first of all, it is about the heart, about Sabbath, about mindfulness and sensitivity. It is about celebrations, about coming home to the beautiful.
There is an interesting quote in Laudato Si’ which refers our need to be converted to the beautiful. Pope Francis writes: “If someone has not learned to stop and admire something beautiful, we should not be surprised if he or she treats everything as an object to be used and abused without scruple” (LS, 215). I think this is what the church needs — conversion to beauty, celebration of the beautiful, gazing at the cosmos.
Church people have always been concerned with the truth (verum) and the good (bonum) but have forgotten the beautiful (pulchrum). But we have also observed that these guardians of truth and morals are the most rigid and hypocritical people in the world. They have clenched fists. They are angry about the world. They have forgotten to smile, to laugh, to celebrate. They have forgotten that the world that God creates is beautiful. “Conversion to the beautiful” avoids this self-righteous attitude, draws us out of ourselves – to beauty, to creation, to the flowers, to the sea, to the land, ultimately, to God. Beauty fills us with hope. And simple people who are in touch with the cosmos everyday — farmers, fisherfolks, gardeners — are people who teach us about hope even in the midst of their difficult lives.
My last story: I once volunteered in the small village of San Antonio in Basey, Samar (Philippines) a month right after the great typhoon Yolanda struck in 2014. This area was badly hit by the storm surge; hundreds of people died; houses were wiped away including their church building. The only thing left of their church was the wall where the crucifix was. Since there were no classes during the Christmas break, I went to help the parish priest in whatever way I can. It was Simbang Gabi time and we had to say Mass in all the destroyed churches in that small town.
In one recollection (what is called “debriefing sessions”) which I did before the Mass, I asked a group of farmers, “what is next after Yolanda?” One farmer stood up, grabbed the microphone and said: “Nais po naming magtanim ulit.” The next few days, the world was celebrating Christmas. In San Antonio, it rained a bit days before and the farmers were beginning to plant rice on that early Christmas morning. I was watching them from afar after my Christmas Mass. And I told myself: “Like the first Christmas, there are no angels who come down from heaven singing Alleluia. But I guess Jesus is born in San Antonio today.” They were still rebuilding their lives again. But it was already “the feast of creation.” That Christmas morning, creation was already celebrating. Then, I began to realize that it was these poor victims who cry from ecological disaster themselves who taught me what is at the heart of Laudato Si’. Hope.[15]
(Daniel Franklin Pilario is a member of the Congregation of the Mission. He is President of Adamson University and professor of St. Vincent School of Theology in Quezon City. On weekends, he also serves as a minister of a garbage dump parish in Payatas, Quezon City. You may reach him at danielfranklinpilario@yahoo.com)
[1] Synod of Bishops, Synthesis Report – First Session, in https://www.synod.va/content/dam/synod/assembly/synthesis/english/2023.10.28-ENG-Synthesis-Report.pdf. Henceforth, SR.
[2] Amado Picardal, “A Hermit’s Companion”, https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100086510466735; “Before his death, Filipino human rights priest pens poem for beloved dog,” https://www.rappler.com/philippines/filipino-human-rights-priest-picardal-poem-dog/
[3] Cf. “Pope Francis says there’s a place for pets in paradise,” https://time.com/3631242/pope-francis-dogs-heaven-catholic-church/
[4] Lynn White, “The Historical Roots of our Ecological Crisis,” Science 155, No. 3767 (March 10, 1967), 1203-1207.
[5] Elizabeth Johnson, Creation and the Cross (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2018), 207.
[6] “Carl Sagan’s Cosmic Calendar,” https://ift.tt/9lfpDQX
[7] Aldo Leopold writes: “When God-like Odysseus returned from the wars in Troy, he hanged all on one rope a dozen slave-girls of his household whom he suspected of misbehavior during his absence. This hanging involved no question of propriety. The girls were property… The disposal of property was then, as now, a matter of expediency, not of right and wrong.” Aldo Leopold, Sand County Almanac: With Essays on Conservation from Round River (New York: Ballantine Books, 1966), 237.
[8] Carl Sagan, Cosmos (New York: Ballantine Books, 2013).
[9] “Care goes further than stewardship. Good stewards take responsibility and fulfil their obligations to manage and to render an account. But one can be a good steward without feeling connected. If one cares, however, one is connected. To care is to allow oneself to be affected by another, so much so that one’s path and priorities change. Good parents know this. They care about their children; they care for their children, so much so that parents will sacrifice enormously—even their lives—to ensure the safety and flourishing of their children. With caring, the hard line between self and other softens, blurs, even disappears.” Peter Cardinal Turkson, “Reflections on Laudato Si at Molloy College,” https://www.americamagazine.org/issue/web-only/inspiration-laudato-si
[10] See, among others, Elizabeth Johnson, Creation and the Cross: The Mercy of God for a Planet in Peril (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis, 2018); Sean McDonagh, The Greening of the Church (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis, 2018); Denis Edwards, Ecology at the Heart of Faith (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis, 2006).
[11] Niels Henrik Gregersen, “Cur deus caro: Jesus and the Cosmos Story,” Theology and Science 11, No. 4 (2013): 370-393,
[12] Elizabeth Johnson, Creation and the Cross, 187.
[13] The 1988 CBCP Pastoral Letter hints at this: “But our meditation on Jesus goes beyond this. Our faith tells us that Christ is the center point of human history and creation. All the rich unfolding of the universe and the emergence and flowering of life on Earth are centered on him. (Eph. 1:9-10; Col 1:16-17). The destruction of any part of creation, especially, the extinction of species defaces the image of Christ which is etched in creation.” CBCP, “What is Happening to our Beautiful Land,” https://ift.tt/bzWrMgf
[14] “Apse Mosaic: The Tree of Life,” https://ift.tt/410Ey27
[15] “Hope” is the dominant word/theme suggested by the participants of the ecumenical seminar for the Feast of Creation held in Assisi on March 14-17, 2024.
0 Comments