Ten Thousand Tongues 1994 Daniel ClarkThis is an adaptation of an article published in the Fall 1993 issue of Whole Earth Review under the title "Christian Pandevotionalism."

Nature Religions present the material world as an active wellspring of spirituality, not just a passive recipient of it. They've been targets of Christian suppression and persecution for almost 2,000 years. Even so, a strong current of Nature Religion runs through the heart of the Christian tradition. It's found in the Bible, in books of prayer, in church hymns, and in literary works written by the faithful. As yet this tradition has been unrecognized and unnamed. Is it paganism? Some might say so. But it's not pantheism. It's not process theology. It's not Teilhardianism. It's what I call Pandevotionalism. For centuries the prevailing Christian view of Nature, God, and Humanity was that God gave humans "dominion," or lordship, over Nature. Lately, in the wake of human abuse of that dominion, the term "stewardship" has gained popularity. And now a number of Christians prefer to see themselves as "cocreators" with God. Pandevotionalism flows from a different source. It asks us to join Nature's worship of God. Humans are part of Nature, Nature is part of God, and the part worships the whole. The unavoidable implication: human life is best when we live within Nature's design and stop trying to improve on it. The most vivid scriptural reference for this approach is Psalm 148. Other psalms, and other books in the Bible, contain Pandevotional passages. But Psalm 148 gives the fullest treatment. The following excerpt is from The New Jerusalem Bible (Doubleday, 1985) where the song is called "The Cosmic Hymn of Praise." Praise Yahweh from the heavens, praise him in the heights. Praise him, all his angels, praise him, all his host! Praise him, sun and moon, praise him, all shining stars, praise him, highest heavens, praise him, waters above the heavens. Let them praise the name of Yahweh at whose command they were made; he established them for ever and ever by an unchanging decree. Praise Yahweh from the earth, sea-monsters and all the depths, fire and hail, snow and mist, storm-winds that obey his word, mountains and every hill, orchards and every cedar, wild animals and all cattle, reptiles and winged birds, kings of the earth and all nations, princes and all judges on earth, young men and girls, old people and children together.

What was the attitude of the Psalmist -- probably King David - - in this enraptured outpouring? How was he able to envision the whole spectrum of creation, from angels to orchards to children, praising God? The poet's rhetoric rallies the entire universe to worship. But he may not really have considered himself the choirmaster of the creation. After all, is it likely that he felt the angels needed his encouragement to be able to worship? One would suppose not. Yet he exhorted them. On the other hand, why try to persuade the snow? Will it listen? Or, most interestingly, did the Psalmist think of the snow and the seraphim as equals? On one level, unquestionably he did. He felt that all existence is blessed with the ability to glorify God. In that sense, cedars and sea-monsters are as good as angels. For this poet, Nature in every shape and form is always praising the name of Yahweh. Commentators through the centuries have had little trouble in assimilating the Pandevotionalism of Psalm 148. In his book A Commentary on Holy Scriptures (Scribner, Armstrong, 1872), John Peter Lange noticed it emphasized "the universal obligation to praise God, which lies naturally upon every creature, after its kind and according to the manner of its special sphere of life." He went on to say that "Unreasoning creatures praise God by their being, upon which the law of Divine will is impressed; what they do unconsciously, we are to do intelligently and voluntarily." Implicit in this latter observation rests a deep respect for the apparently "unreasoning creatures." Their devotion may be unconscious, but it is constant. Humanity wavers in its devotion. Thus Lange asserted that we would do well to accept Nature as a teacher of religious life. I doubt that Lange would qualify as a deep ecologist. But he touched on a current that runs as deep as any in contemporary eco- spiritual thought. Because if we humans can consider that the rest of Nature is in some way more in tune with God, then we might improve ourselves by living more in harmony with Nature. That is the hidden purport of Psalm 148. An echo of the Psalm is heard in the Apochrypha, in the exaltation added to the book of Daniel called "The Song of the Three Young Men." This hymn reproduces the former litany, with some additions and omissions. The Roman Catholic, Anglican, and Episcopal churches have used it in their services to the present day. (And the contemporary musician Paul Winter has adapted it for part of his "Earth Mass".) Whether the stream of Pandevotionalism that runs through Christian song and poetry has its headwaters only in the Old Testament, or also in a universal intuition inherent in every religious soul, is open to interpretation. But whether it is scriptural or spontaneous, the tradition is strong. Early in the Christian era, Tertullian wrote in De Oratione, "The birds rising out of the nest raise themselves up and, instead of hands, extend the cross of their wings, and say something like prayer." Saint Ambrose and other Church Fathers also celebrated the flight and song of birds as devotional expression. Around 600 AD Venantius Honorius Fortunatus composed hymns for Whitsunday, Easter, and Ascension, each of which proclaimed, "All things created on earth sing to the glory of God." In the eighth century St. John of Damascus wrote the same words in a composition of his. Irish invocatory prayers of the period engaged those wild forces of Nature so resonant in the old Celtic background. A tenth century Swabian canticle urged the rolling waves and the beasts of the field to sing Alleluia. From the Welsh Black Book of Carmarthen, set down in the 1100's, we are given a poem where not only is "bee-song" called upon to bless the Lord, but also "fine silk." (It's unusual for a manufactured product to be included in the company of the elect. Perhaps not until Hart Crane's "The Bridge" do we come across this again.) Also in the 1100's was born that rhapsodic mystic who dared to say, "Our sisters the birds are praising their Creator. Let us go among them and sing unto the Lord praises and Canonical Hours." That was Saint

Francis of Assisi, who not only composed a Pandevotional hymn ("The Canticle of the Sun") but who also lived a Pandevotional life to the utmost. Edward A. Armstrong, in his study St. Francis: Nature Mystic (University of California, 1973) described the Franciscan life style "So assimilated to their woodland haunts did Francis and his companions appear that women fled from them and folk spoke of them as if they were more like indigenous denizens of the forest than fully human beings ... Those who visited the friars described their sleeping places as like the lairs of wild beasts ... we hear of them praying in the woods three times as often as in churches." Francis also sang duets with a cicada that often visited his cell. Armstrong noted that for the saint, "All created things pointed beyond themselves to their Creator." With Saint Francis we reach an apex of Pandevotionalism whose heights, formed by a convergence of theory and practice, have rarely been scaled since. But I don't mean to discredit other Medieval or Renaissance contemplatives -- such as Hildegard of Bingen, Mechtild of Magdeburg, or Meister Eckhart, three whose kinship with Nature has been extolled lately by Matthew Fox. Even Shakespeare, in The Merchant of Venice, had Lorenzo proclaim, "There's not the smallest orb which thou beholds't / But in his motion like an angel sings... " As Christian cultures grew more complex with the rise of Industrialism, the simple life became more difficult to attain. Still, Pandevotionalism took root in literary achievements both for church use and for general reading. In "Paradise Lost," John Milton placed on the lips of Adam and Eve an exquisite sunrise version of Psalm 148. Lorenzo's music of the spheres was given eloquent expression: Moon, that now meets the orient Sun, now flis't With the fixt stars, fixt in their orb that flies, And yee five other wandering Fires that move In mystic Dance not without Song, resound His praise, who out of Darkness calld up Light. The rise of Protestantism stimulated a vast output of new prayers, poems, and hymns. Bishop Thomas Ken wrote the Doxology that's been sung for 200 years since -- a Pandevotional lyric Praise God, from whom all blessings flow, Praise Him, all creatures here below; Praise Him above, ye heavenly host; Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Worship by "all creatures" formed a constant theme of the greatest eighteenth century hymnist, Isaac Watts. "Nature in every dress," he enthused, "Her humble homage pays, And finds a thousand ways t'express Thine undissembled praise." Also, Ye tribes of Adam join, With heaven, and earth, and seas, And offer notes divine To your Creator's praise. The Augustan poet Christopher Smart crafted the most startling verses of his time. For the central point of his work he took the creation's adoration of God. Early in his career he wrote:

List ye! how Nature with ten thousand tongues Begins the grand thanksgiving, Hail, all hail, Ye tenants of the forest and the field! My fellow subjects of th'eternal King, I gladly join your Mattins, and with you Confess his presence and report his praise. The Pandevotional works of Christopher Smart, while included in the standard anthologies, are hardly well known. In "A Song to David," the poet reached his height: Rich almonds colour to the prime For ADORATION; tendrils climb, And fruit-trees pledge their gems; And Ivis with her gorgeous vest Builds for her eggs her cunning nest, And bell-flowers bow their stems. With vinous syrup cedars spout; From rocks pure honey gushing out, From ADORATION springs: All scenes of painting croud the map Of nature; to the mermaid's pap The scaled infant clings. The spotted ounce and playsome cubs Run rustling 'mongst the flow'ring shrubs, And lizards feed the moss; For ADORATION beasts embark, While waves upholding halcyon's ark No longer roar and toss. Smart was not content to arrange words on paper. Aware of the implications of his chosen theme regarding human activity, he was at odds with conventional notions of how to live one's daily life. In his eccentric masterpiece "Jubilate Agno," he declared, "For to worship naked in the Rain is the bravest thing for refreshing and purifying the body." Christopher Smart and the Augustans were followed by the Romantics. Among them Coleridge, Emerson, Dickinson, and the little-known Jones Very made memorable contributions to the Pandevotional corpus. Pandevotionalism stresses the active role Nature takes in worshipping God -- something that goes on with or without human participation. That's not to be confused with the very human activity of "appreciating" Nature, which might mean advocating the expansion of national parks, or even perceiving Nature as a symbol for a transcendent divinity. A case in point is the Jesuit priest from the Victorian era, Gerard Manly Hopkins. At first reading, there are plenty of thrills in his poems: What would the world be, once bereft Of wet and wildness? Let them be left, O let them be left, wildness and wet: Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet. The environmentalist in all of us can hold that banner high. But Hopkins' natural world turns out to be a place of feeble energy. For instance, in "Ribblesdale," the poet states,

And where is Earth's eye, tongue, or heart else, where Else, but in dear and dogged man? Even though "The world is charged with the grandeur of God," it's a one-way relationship. For Hopkins "nature, framed in fault ... Nature, bad, base, and blind ..." is in the end a "Vacant creation ..." The meaning-making function of the human mind is what Hopkins values. Nature is just dead material for the poet, and God, to bring to life. In the twentieth century, in his essay "Hymns in a Man's Life," D. H. Lawrence got straight to the Pandevotional point: "Plant consciousness, insect consciousness, fish consciousness, animal consciousness, all are related by one permanent element, which we may call the religious element inherent in all life, even in a flea: the sense of wonder." His younger American contemporary Hart Crane expressed the same admiration for Nature's devotion to God in the 1929 poem, "A Name for All." I dreamed that all men dropped their names, and sang As only they can praise, who build their days With fin and hoof, with wing and sweetened fang Struck free and holy on one Name always. One of Carl Sandburg's last poems, "Timesweep," wraps up in a terse statement the profession of the Pandevotionalist: I meditate with the mud eel on where we came from. Lawrence, Crane, and Sandburg might not justifiably be counted among the ranks of Christian writers. But it is a virtue of Pandevotionalism that it can motivate both the orthodox and the independent. Many Christians today are disturbed by the human destruction of God's creation. They are seeking a confirmation in their theology for their empathy with the Earth. They want to progress to what Emerson called "plain living and high thinking." Pandevotionalism suggests an answer. With its Old Testament heritage, its presence in the religious life of the Church Fathers, and its validity as a continuing literary theme, Pandevotionalism can contribute much to the great work of bringing together Humanity, Nature, and God.