God and Nature Fall 2022
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By Janel Curry
My daughter Marie, when she was growing up, had a turtle named Bob who lived in an aquarium in her room. One day I came home from work and found Marie crying because she realized that Bob did not greet her when she came home from school. What did the experience of caring for Bob the turtle, who did not respond to my daughter’s presence, add to her understanding of God and the world around her?
Through my daughter’s experience, I have contemplated the benefits of nurturing the skill of attentiveness, which I believe is tightly connected to the practice of care. Bob the turtle did not smile at my daughter when she came home from school, but my daughter did learn from Bob. In order to care for Bob, she had to pay attention, learn to recognize and interpret patterns, and figure out what they were indicating. For example, Marie became attentive to when Bob the turtle was a bit lethargic. We would then go and get live minnows from the local bait shop to put in his tank to enrich his environment and create some excitement for him. Marie watched Bob go into hibernation in the winter, when we did not have to clean the aquarium as often, adjusting our care to his cycles. Similarly, I once met someone who had a tortoise. They told me that when the tortoise seemed depressed, they would put it in the shower and flash the lights to move it out of its state of lethargy. Bob the turtle taught Marie the virtue of attentiveness, and this, in turn, taught her skills of how to care.
My daughter Marie, when she was growing up, had a turtle named Bob who lived in an aquarium in her room. One day I came home from work and found Marie crying because she realized that Bob did not greet her when she came home from school. What did the experience of caring for Bob the turtle, who did not respond to my daughter’s presence, add to her understanding of God and the world around her?
Through my daughter’s experience, I have contemplated the benefits of nurturing the skill of attentiveness, which I believe is tightly connected to the practice of care. Bob the turtle did not smile at my daughter when she came home from school, but my daughter did learn from Bob. In order to care for Bob, she had to pay attention, learn to recognize and interpret patterns, and figure out what they were indicating. For example, Marie became attentive to when Bob the turtle was a bit lethargic. We would then go and get live minnows from the local bait shop to put in his tank to enrich his environment and create some excitement for him. Marie watched Bob go into hibernation in the winter, when we did not have to clean the aquarium as often, adjusting our care to his cycles. Similarly, I once met someone who had a tortoise. They told me that when the tortoise seemed depressed, they would put it in the shower and flash the lights to move it out of its state of lethargy. Bob the turtle taught Marie the virtue of attentiveness, and this, in turn, taught her skills of how to care.
The Christian tradition has spiritual practices and theological perspectives that align with nurturing attentiveness. |
Attentiveness is central to the development of the practice of care. Nel Noddings, in her ground-breaking work Caring: A Feminine Approach to Ethics and Moral Education, says that all caring involves engrossment. She says that the danger in caring is that it might gradually be transformed into abstract problem solving—caring for the world rather than Bob, for example. When that happens, the shift of focus goes from the cared-for to an abstract problem. You cannot be attentive to the entire world, and thus you cannot learn skills of care. The skills are learned at the level at which we form relationships.
Noddings also argues that caring—being attentive—does not create boredom with ordinary life. The ordinariness of life enhances receptivity and attentiveness. We observe the nuances of change and build our skills of observation of patterns, producing a deep joy and connection. Noddings says that these experiences of wholeness should serve as goal posts in life. She encourages us to build on the best picture of ourselves caring and being cared for, the result of nurturing our skills of attentiveness.
To build on this best picture of ourselves, we must increase our attentiveness. Julia Wood, in Who Cares? Women, Care, and Culture, describes characteristics that nurture attentiveness: paying attention, learning to interpret patterns to figure out what they are indicating, and the patience to go at another’s speed. I attempted to develop some of these skills in my daughters when I had a sabbatical in New Zealand (post-Bob the turtle). We learned to pay attention to what was around us through the avenue of our New Zealand bird book. We had no goal of expanding our bird list—it was merely a tool to direct us to be attentive to a new environment. One day we were hiking through a forest and heard what sounded like a squirrel in a tree. Remembering that there were no squirrels in New Zealand, we stopped, listened, and looked. After some time, we finally saw the large brown Kākā, a parrot, in the tree, cracking open the pinecones. What a sense of joy together!
The Christian tradition has spiritual practices and theological perspectives that align with nurturing attentiveness. The practice of centering prayer focuses our attention, and Social Trinitarian theology identifies being made in the image of God with being created for relationship. I see this coming together as nurturing the ability to be attentive to what is around us, which moves us to relationship and caring. Theologian Colin Gunton argues that humans have a deep desire to be connected to each other and to the earth. I have found this connection to be grounded in my nurturing of attentiveness: developing a posture of receptivity; taking time to notice patterns around me; going at someone else’s pace; stopping to reflect on moments of wholeness. The Benedictine Order emphasizes the need for a spiritual “Rule of Life” in order to grow in our relationship with God and others. I desire a Rule of Life that is based on attentiveness.
Nowadays, I work on my skills of attentiveness with Marie’s two-year-old daughter, Claire. When we go to the park, we follow the same route. We visit the ducks who swim in the creek. We spend time dropping pebbles in the stream and listen for the plunk, which is different every time. We look at the ants and ant hills on the sidewalk. We observe goose poop and bird poop (everybody poops). We listen to the birds and the crickets. We pick flowers from the expanse of prairie wildflowers, where we see different blooms at different times. And we play with our shadows. She helps me develop the virtue of attentiveness as I practice patience when I am required to go at her speed. And I feel a sense of wholeness and joy like no other.
Janel Curry obtained her PhD in geography from the University of Minnesota. She taught at Central College and at Calvin University in Grand Rapids, MI, in the areas of geography and environmental studies. Her areas of research have included environmental policy, religious worldviews and the environment, and women in leadership. Janel has held several administrative roles including being dean for research and scholarship at Calvin College and provost at Gordon College. She has recently begun her new role as Executive Director of the American Scientific Affiliation.
Noddings also argues that caring—being attentive—does not create boredom with ordinary life. The ordinariness of life enhances receptivity and attentiveness. We observe the nuances of change and build our skills of observation of patterns, producing a deep joy and connection. Noddings says that these experiences of wholeness should serve as goal posts in life. She encourages us to build on the best picture of ourselves caring and being cared for, the result of nurturing our skills of attentiveness.
To build on this best picture of ourselves, we must increase our attentiveness. Julia Wood, in Who Cares? Women, Care, and Culture, describes characteristics that nurture attentiveness: paying attention, learning to interpret patterns to figure out what they are indicating, and the patience to go at another’s speed. I attempted to develop some of these skills in my daughters when I had a sabbatical in New Zealand (post-Bob the turtle). We learned to pay attention to what was around us through the avenue of our New Zealand bird book. We had no goal of expanding our bird list—it was merely a tool to direct us to be attentive to a new environment. One day we were hiking through a forest and heard what sounded like a squirrel in a tree. Remembering that there were no squirrels in New Zealand, we stopped, listened, and looked. After some time, we finally saw the large brown Kākā, a parrot, in the tree, cracking open the pinecones. What a sense of joy together!
The Christian tradition has spiritual practices and theological perspectives that align with nurturing attentiveness. The practice of centering prayer focuses our attention, and Social Trinitarian theology identifies being made in the image of God with being created for relationship. I see this coming together as nurturing the ability to be attentive to what is around us, which moves us to relationship and caring. Theologian Colin Gunton argues that humans have a deep desire to be connected to each other and to the earth. I have found this connection to be grounded in my nurturing of attentiveness: developing a posture of receptivity; taking time to notice patterns around me; going at someone else’s pace; stopping to reflect on moments of wholeness. The Benedictine Order emphasizes the need for a spiritual “Rule of Life” in order to grow in our relationship with God and others. I desire a Rule of Life that is based on attentiveness.
Nowadays, I work on my skills of attentiveness with Marie’s two-year-old daughter, Claire. When we go to the park, we follow the same route. We visit the ducks who swim in the creek. We spend time dropping pebbles in the stream and listen for the plunk, which is different every time. We look at the ants and ant hills on the sidewalk. We observe goose poop and bird poop (everybody poops). We listen to the birds and the crickets. We pick flowers from the expanse of prairie wildflowers, where we see different blooms at different times. And we play with our shadows. She helps me develop the virtue of attentiveness as I practice patience when I am required to go at her speed. And I feel a sense of wholeness and joy like no other.
Janel Curry obtained her PhD in geography from the University of Minnesota. She taught at Central College and at Calvin University in Grand Rapids, MI, in the areas of geography and environmental studies. Her areas of research have included environmental policy, religious worldviews and the environment, and women in leadership. Janel has held several administrative roles including being dean for research and scholarship at Calvin College and provost at Gordon College. She has recently begun her new role as Executive Director of the American Scientific Affiliation.