I have not thought of the global warming issue as a specifically religious issue, nor do I claim any particular expertise in theology or science, but since you asked, here goes.
When I was a kid, I read how the west of Europe fell into ruin after the fall of the Roman Empire. It wasn’t just the buildings or the roads. The whole countryside turned to ruin. Forests and thickets expanded. Wild animals roamed the countryside and presented a serious hazard to people. Food was scarce. Stagnant marshes made a breeding ground for malarial mosquitos.
I remember reading about the orders of monks who set out to rectify that ruin. They would go out into some desolate place, clear it, drain it, care for it, build sawmills and grist mills and wine presses, and then turn it over to the populace so it could enjoy the fruits of what the land could actually produce. I gained a respect for what the hand of man could do with what otherwise might be a howling wilderness. And, in truth, most of us find that “look” aesthetically pleasing. True, some of us admire the trackless jungles and thickets of mesquite and cholla cactus. But most of us are pleased with a vista that promises fruitfulness.
I know exactly what it is to make land productive for both people and wildlife. I have done it all my life. I have greatly enjoyed thinning missapen, unproductive or diseased timber, establishing lush grasses and timber in pleasing and productive patterns. I have enjoyed eliminating sloughs by directing fresh water into them.
But you know, it’s terrible to try to do that as the monks of old did it; with axe, shovel, mattock and grubbing hoe. The amount of human labor, if unassisted, that it takes to turn even one acre of wasteland into something productive and pleasing is enormous, and takes days. Even with a chain saw, it takes an enormous amount of time.
But now, I have my skid steer with attachments that allow me to improve an acre of timber in about an hour, or to eliminate a thicket with just a few passes, or drain a swampy area in half a day. And the wildlife flourishes as do the domestic animals. Animals can eat where before they could not, and so can people.
I personally believe that is the sort of thing God intends. I think He likes life, and I think He likes human life. And I think He likes seeing the “hand of man” cultivating the earth and making it bloom as much as those monks of long ago did, and as much as I do. And I think He wants us to look out on vistas that are naturally pleasing to us and be inspired by the beauty of it; a beauty that man can, if he is careful, can enhance in the same way he can improve a blank canvas with paints.
To do it, of course, I burn a lot of diesel fuel and use a fair amount of hydraulic fluid. A lot of CO2 is produced just to make them. Then I go and run the skid steer and send plumes of CO2 into the air. Maybe the healthier forests I create, and the fruit-heavy thickets I trim and the streams I deepen that become fish-filled, and the mink and otter and eagles that live on the fish, and the grasslands that support both deer and cattle consume as much CO2 as I send into the atmosphere. But maybe they don’t.
Now, global warming is outside my experience. It has been colder in the last two years than any I can remember. But people say its warmer even though, around here anyway, it isn’t. I see this scientist say this and that scientist say that. I know for certain that many business people are poised to batten on dollars the government is going to pour into global warming research and prevention and all that, just like the oil companies do on petroleum production. Money attracts adherents and proselytes.
Should I believe the ones who say we’ll all fry in the heat or those who say we won’t; particularly when I don’t see any warming at all; quite the opposite in fact?
Well, in the absence of anything that really persuades me otherwise, I see fossil fuels as a powerful addition, a magnification really, of human muscle power, to aid man, at least for now, to make the earth bloom. How many more peasants could those monks have fed or housed if they had my skid steer? A lot.
So there it is. And that’s why I feel no guilt at all in operating my skid steer (well, and I have a tractor too). In fact, when I look behind myself and see a stand of clean, healthy white oaks or walnuts or wild cherries that produce nuts and fruit that feed all kinds of things, and the persimmons the deer (and little kids) love, and the blackberry patches that I keep supplied with decaying wood right along the tree lines, the little grove of carefully preserved red cedars where the deer can repair after eating the lush grasses during the night, and the cattle knee deep in grass during their “shift”, or resting under the branches of a big red oak, I do get a sense of being God’s instrument. Lots of people and lots of wildlife can eat well because of that CO2-belching skid steer of mine, and people can stand on a cleared ridge and see the black columns of walnuts standing in green grass to the east and the white and gray columns of oaks standing in leaves on the west, and they can see the sparkling clear water below them and the blue ridges marching in front of them, and I can sometimes see their breaths catch. I have seen little kids making daisy crowns in the tall grass, or purple-faced from eating blackberries or wild grapes. And I can’t help thinking God approves all of that, notwithstanding the sins of my skid steer and mine for pushing CO2 into the air if, indeed, it matters at all that I do. The hand of man made stronger by diesel fuel. I chuckle to think about it.
So there it is. That’s as close as I can get to answering the original post.
