Rewilding Your Soul
“The Edenic return we unconsciously long for and so desperately need is a resurrection to the truth of our own wildness.”
Note: This is part 3 in a series discussing how to rewild our faith. If you missed the first two parts, click here for part 1 and here for part 2.
Recently, members from a local church were canvassing my (Gary Alan’s) neighborhood, handing out tracts and inviting people to church. Under normal circumstances, such uninvited evangelistic tactics feel overbearing, but in a global health crisis, their presence felt irresponsible. I ducked into the house before they could corner me, but later found a tract hanging from my doorknob. Out of curiosity, I opened the pamphlet, wondering what version of the Christian story they were peddling. Reading it aloud, I quickly found out: “First of all, God wants you to know that you are a sinner.” I promptly tossed the tract in the trash, not so much because it isn’t true, but because there is a deeper reality hidden behind this shame-driven theology. As my daughter adroitly responded, “First of all, God wants you to know you are loved.” Preach, baby girl.
What she was alluding to is something that is more primal than sin, deeper than our shortcomings, and we find it in the Bible’s two creation stories.
Yes, two creation stories. The more traditional version is found in Genesis 1, and a slightly altered account appears in Genesis 2. Despite their dissimilarities, both stories agree on the single, archetypal truth of the universe: In the beginning, God created a good world. Why? Because God is good. “God is the good and all things which proceed from Him are good,” wrote 12th-century Benedictine mystic Hildegard of Bingen. The first creation story proclaims, “And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.” From this good earth, God took holy dust and formed humankind in His likeness, planting His divine image in our souls. And this is where we uncover the fundamental reality of human identity: Before we were sinners, we were first innocent children birthed in the good image of a loving parent. Though we don’t know how much time passed between God’s initial act of creation and humanity’s banishment from the garden, original goodness is a lot older than original sin.
4th-century Celtic theologian Pelagius knew this well. Writing at the time of Augustine, he challenged the Roman concept of original sin and was condemned as a heretic for doing so. To a friend he wrote: “When God pronounced that his creation was good, it was not only that his hand had fashioned every creature to life, it was that his breath had brought every creature to life...The presence of God’s spirit in all living things is what makes them beautiful; and if we look with God’s eyes, nothing on earth is ugly.”
In stark contrast to Augustine, Pelagius believed in the original goodness of humanity—a goodness that is admittedly obscured by sin, but nonetheless still there. Like the van Eycks’ “Ghent Altarpiece,” whose original mystical lamb was painted over and buried under a forgery, our original goodness is so deeply concealed by our own sin, it is believed to be lost. But it isn’t. Despite the divine image being deeply marred, we are not beyond repair. Rewilding the soul, the self, is not the replacement of our original image, but rather the recovery of it.
Question to Ponder
If it’s true that your soul originated in goodness instead of evil, how does that impact the way you see yourself? If God isn’t eternally angry with you but is rather wildly in love with you, how does that change your relationship with the divine? And even more boldly, if you are not conditioned to sin but rather choose it, how might that encourage the belief that you are capable of faithfulness?
Additional Reading
If the idea of original blessing is new to you, and you’d like to learn more about how this view of creation endured for centuries under the long shadow cast by the dominating doctrine of original sin, we hope the list of resources below will bless you as you explore further.
Original Blessing by Danielle Shroyer
Listening for the Heartbeat of God by J. Philip Newell
The God We Never Knew by Marcus Borg
The Sacred Universe by Thomas Berry
Walking in Wonder by John O’Donohue
Yearning for the Wind by Tom Cowan
A Language Older Than Words by Derrick Jensen
NOTE: This was originally published in our bi-weekly e-newsletter, Liminal Spaces. To get future issues delivered to your inbox, sign up here.
Summer is my season. It’s the point of my beginning, and will probably be the time of my end. As a July baby, I’m most at home in midsummer.