Stewards of Wonder

When I see Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars You fixed firm, what is man that You should note him, and the human creature, that You pay him heed, and You make him little less than the gods, with glory and grandeur you crown him? [Psalm 8:4-5].

For a number of years now, Jane and I have joined some of our closest Erskine College/Gastonia friends for a Spring get-together, either on Edisto Island or Pawley’s Island. The beach house on Edisto offers an unusual vantage point. Many ocean-front homes provide a beautiful sight of the morning dawn, since the sun rises in the east. But this house offers something different. Because of its location at a bend in the island shore, on cool, clear Spring evenings, one can stand on the house’s splendid second-story porch, and gaze at breathtaking sunsets, as the sun is so softly consumed by the sea.

During one of these gatherings, as our group stood spell-bound on the porch, one of our friends quietly sighed, “When I see Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and the stars You fixed firm, what is man that You should note him?”

I thought to myself, “Amen.”

During my time at Duke Law School, a similar thought raced through my mind as I viewed, for the first time, Alaska’s glorious Northern Lights. Awestruck by the majesty of the dancing sky, I thought, “How insignificant we all are!”

Our significance—that issue is at the heart of this week’s reading from the Psalter, Psalm 8 [Proper 27, The Season after Pentecost, RCL, Year B]. The Psalmist, mimicking many a stargazer, wonders why the powerful Creator would care for—or about—a single soul.

Hebrew scholars make an interesting point. One would expect the Psalmist to use the Hebrew particle mi (“who”), i.e., “who am I” that you would pay me heed? Instead, the Psalmist poses the question in an almost disdainful manner. He uses the Hebrew particle mah (“what”). Essentially, he is wondering, “What is this thing called human? Given the overall grandeur of nature, the response might well be, “Not much.”

Many of us in Durham truly felt the insignificance of humanity this past weekend as we sat in relative safety while the remnants of tropical storm Helene dumped as many as 20 inches of rain in less than half a day in the North Carolina mountains. Roads, bridges, houses, and neighbors are gone. For those of us on the East Coast, this horror story is all too familiar, while our friends further west may be just learning the full extent of the devastation: For almost three days, Asheville could only be reached by helicopter. Some areas in Ashe and Madison Counties are still accessible only by mule. Have you, like me, harbored feelings of helplessness? “What is man that You should note him?”

Well, thank Goodness, Psalm 8 doesn’t end with the Psalmist’s declaration as to humanity’s insignificance. Instead, he pivots to reveal a profound truth: human beings are far from insignificant. Despite our relative frailty and physical weakness, YHWH made us only “a little less than gods” [8:5a; some translations, e.g., the NIV, translate gods as “angels”].

Here, the Psalmist sets humankind in a hierarchical ladder: YHWH at the very top, the gods and celestial beings below YHWH, then humanity, and below humanity, the whole kingdom of other living creatures. Therefore, while we may shrink before the beauty of a golden sunset, while our eyes may grow misty as we gaze upon the quiet, blue haze of the Smoky Mountains, and while we may shudder helplessly before the raging waters caused by Helene, nevertheless, YHWH has crowned us “with glory and honor” [8:5b].

This divine affirmation of our worth comes with a profound responsibility: we’re given meaningful work. YHWH has given us dominion over all things “under” our feet [8:7], but we act as stewards on behalf of the Almighty. We are not free to do as we please with YHWH’s Creation.

In today’s world, the idea of human dominion over nature often raises eyebrows in modern congregations. Many view humanity’s stewardship with a jaundiced eye, perhaps rightly so, given our history. But dominion, as intended by YHWH, and spoken of by the Psalmist, is not about exploitation or unrestrained power. Rather, it speaks to the idea that YHWH so values human beings in the "orders of creation" that YHWH has called us to share in His creative work by taking responsibility to care for the rest of creation.

To illustrate the weight and honor of such divine trust, let me share an experience from my youth that, on a much smaller scale, mirrors this sacred responsibility. When Todd and I were about 15, Dad entrusted us with managing the Christmas layaways at Matthews-Belk’s “Toyland” store. In the 1960s, before credit cards were commonplace, layaway was a crucial service that allowed families to spread out payments for Christmas purchases over several months. It also gave parents a great place to hide gifts.

Dad’s words still ring in my ears: “You boys are smart; figure it out. I have confidence in you. Oh, but do keep one thing in mind: How will a mother feel if you mess up her children’s Christmas?”

The responsibility was daunting, but it taught us the importance of being trustworthy stewards of something precious to others.

Just as our father entrusted us with a significant responsibility, believing in our ability to rise to the challenge, YHWH placed similar trust in humanity. On a much grander scale, we’ve been entrusted with the care of Creation itself. The stakes are infinitely higher, but the principle is the same: we’ve been given this responsibility because YHWH believes in our capacity to fulfill it.

Today, as we face the aftermath of devastating storms and floods, we’re reminded that our stewardship of Creation is not just about preserving its beauty, or even its resources, but also about responding to its crises and caring for those affected by its power. We are called to be God’s hands and feet in the world, to bring comfort to those who have lost loved ones, to provide shelter to those who have lost their homes, and to help rebuild communities that have been torn apart. This is not a task we undertake alone or in our own strength, but as partners with the Divine, empowered and guided by God’s love and wisdom.

Moreover, our stewardship of Creation extends beyond disaster response. In times of calm and in times of storm, we are called to reflect God’s love and care for all Creation.

To be sure, God holds the whole world in God’s hands [8:6], but God has entrusted everything under our feet to our care [8:7]. This is both a profound privilege and a weighty responsibility. The Psalmist teaches: “We matter.” God has given us meaningful work, and in times of natural disaster, this work becomes all the more crucial.

May we, like the psalmist, end our reflections with praise: “O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!” And may this praise move us to embody God’s love and care for all creation, in times of beauty and in times of devastation.