No human being could live on Saturn, nor any life form we could imagine. But scientists have pondered over whether some of its various moons could harbour simple forms of life. The biggest moon - Titan - is more or less planet sized, and it’s been observed to have clouds and atmosphere and even weather - though not the sort of weather we could survive in. That’s a shame, since Titan is rich in mineral ores, and the idea of mining Titan has been a staple theme of many a science fiction novel.
Reading about Saturn as a place not to live started me thinking about where we do live, and about life on earth. Organic life forms are fragile and very varied, and they’re also persistent and determined to thrive. Think of the sheer dogged strength that allows germinating seeds to push their way up through the tarmac and concrete with which we coat our planet; think of those emperor penguins that stand guard over their chicks all winter in the frozen desert of Antarctica. But though life on earth comes in many forms and has made a home in all kinds of environments, the search for signs of life beyond our own planet continues not to find any trace of it. Star Wars may be a hugely successful movie franchise, but so far it seems a long way removed from reality.
Scientists talk about the 'Goldilocks Zone' to mean that part of the space around a star in which life may form. It's a very narrow band, and we're in it. The proper name for it is the CHZ, or Circumstellar Habitable Zone, but Goldilocks is a snappier expression: like the porridge in the story, our band is neither too hot nor too cold, but just right.
Many people think there’s a conflict between religion and science, and I know there are faith leaders who still today totally reject what science has to say. I trained as a scientist, and for me the conflict they speak about isn’t real. For me, science answers the question “how” - how I exist, how all of this works. Religion tackles a trickier question: “why” - why am I here, what am I here for? Some people want to say that the why question doesn’t exist, or if it does, it’s not spurious and doesn’t mean much. Well, it does for me, as I search out the hand of God in this vast and complex universe, and ask what he wants of me - and of us.
In the Book of Genesis, right at the start of our Bibles, we’re told that God made all things, and in our Psalm responses at the start of this service we said that “The earth is the Lord’s”. That I believe, and that belief is at the heart of this Rogation Sunday service. Where I part company with the fundamentalists is that I don’t think the Bible, in Genesis or elsewhere, intends to dictate how God creates. What the Bible does do is to tackle the issue of how we relate to that created order, and to our God.
With that in mind, we can see in Genesis that we’re made of the same stuff as everything else, made (so chapter 2 of Genesis assures us) of the dust. And that’s really the same as science says. We may have this marvellous ability to discover, think and reflect, to design and create, but we’re still made of the same stuff as frogs and buttercups and jellyfish. But that’s not the whole story, for Genesis chapter 1 tells us that we’re also made in the image of God.
What does that mean, though? The fact that we’re creative is certainly part of it, and the fact that we’re aware. Farmers and gardeners are part of that creativity which is as I see it not only God given but also something that reflects God. A good garden is a place of harmony and peace, in which the earth is made productive and beautiful, and somehow we are too. It’s no surprise that Adam and Eve start their story in a garden, Eden.
Eden is as much about where we choose to travel to as where we’ve fallen from. I love to look round gardens, and they remind me that God wants us and calls us to work in harmony with him, with what he’s made, and with one another. Much of how we use the world is far from harmonious, and that worries many of us I know. Rogation Sunday should address those concerns - plastic and pollution, deforestation and global climate change. The clock is ticking. But we can’t ask God to wave some kind of magic wand, and do nothing ourselves. What we pray for we much also work for.
Places like this were loved by the Celtic saints who first brought the faith to these hills. They discerned and worshipped God in the rhythms of the natural world; and the world of nature was for them something to work with and to be quietly and reverently part of, not a thing to fight or to force into submission. Their worship followed the rhythms of tides and sunsets and seasons, and was founded firmly in prayer: prayer as the foundation of a life of godly service: prayer as a necessary beginning to all our work. There’s an old saying that to pray is to work, and to work is to pray. Prayer time is never wasted: prayer clears our thoughts and directs them to God, and gives him space to speak to us or to form thoughts in our hearts. And work can be done prayerfully, if how we work and what our work achieves glorifies God as Creator.
That’s our theme this Sunday. Rogation brings together prayer, growth, creation and a spirit of holiness. God the maker of stars and planets is also the giver of life and the inspirer of love.
So let’s thank God for the beauty of the land around us here, and pray we may live here reverently - with a vision of his love, an understanding of his purpose, and a quiet holiness. Here we are, safely in our Goldilocks zone. But how safely, really? We reject at our peril the warnings climate change campaigners give us. More to the point, perhaps, we reject at our peril the way our forbears worked and worshipped at the same time, adapting their lives to the rhythms of creation, and honouring God not just on a Sunday but in all the everyday events and activities of their lives. Pray that we may use the land and all it gives us in a way that gives glory to God; in ways that fulfil his purpose and love, and that reflect the rhythms and harmonies of creation.
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