River Religion

Connecting to the river is part of a daily pilgrimage, a spiritual and sacred practice of homage. Watching the Spoonbiil slurp through the mud along Sandy Creek is a measure of reverence for this place and its extended ecosystem from watershed to ocean. The water flowing on the tidal exchange between fresh and salt is the ritualistic dance of this river religion. The sound and sight of birds, lizards, skinks, dog wallkers and joggers, rowers and kayakers, all combine in an expression of what the early sociologist Emile Durkheim referred to as 'collective effervescence' - a religious fervour that emerges in society during periods of social change or upheaval.

At a time of increasing awareness of global warming and the need for pro-environmental behaviours to transcend the rush towards devastation, the notion of collective effervescence is celebratory.

Present day theorists of religion such as Gary Bouma (Australian Soul, 2006) and Danièle Hervieu-Léger (Religion as a Chain of Memory, 2000) note the shift towards a more experiential embodied quest for the sacred in post-industrial society. Hervieu-Léger suggests that the hierarchy, dogma and social institutionalisation of mainline religions has dwindled in the spread of what was seen as secularisation but, as Bouma has observed, there is a lingering spiritual attraction that bubbles along in the hinterland of organised religion as well as through the diversity of emergent individualised expressions of self-styled spiritualities.

On one hand the upsurge in religion as experience has spawned an outflow of emotionally-based worship; on the other, it has given rise to a range of spiritual dimensions from ecclectic self-serve new age practices to a deep engagement in ritual magick, various dynamic forms of nature religion and an ecological revisioning of mainstream scriptures and religious services.

The river and the extended ecosystem offer a stage for the outpouring of collective effervescence. The overhead shriek of the cockatoos as they descend on the eucalypt branches and tree hollows, the high-pitched delicious call of the Butcher Bird, the purring whirr of the Black Faced Cuckoo Shreik, the clever sprouting Mangroves which line the riverbank - these encounters with the wilder parts of urbania can be seen as an upsurge of effervescent feeling through mutual interaction between human and nature.

Hervieu-Léger (2000:52) citing WIlliam James says that the essence of religion is found in inner experience, the wondrous emotional connection 'at once collective and individual'. What is important, she says, is the process of religious engagement - first comes the intensity of feeling which emerges from connection with the sacred and then, in terms of organised religion, the sacred is vesselised, contained and rationalised into beliefs, rituals and teachings.

Breaking down the steps in an ecological sense removes the distinction between feeling and teaching. Wild and sacred places have the power to excite, to stimulate feelings of intensity, insight and personal transformation. They teach not only about the ecosystem services, they create an opportunity for learning about ourselves. Borrowing from Hervieu-Léger (2000:60), there is a mutual involvement of the sacred and religion, an emotional renewal that surfaces on the wavelets of this precious stretch of the Brisbane River.

References
Bouma GD, 2006, Australian Soul: Religion and Spirituality for the 21st Century, Melbourne, Cambridge University Press.
Hervieu-Léger D, 1993, 2000, Religion as a Chain of Memory, Cambridge, Polity Press.

One Song at a Time

This post is inspired by the song
'Better People' by Australian performer Xavier Rudd whose lyrics raise the vital issues of ecological and social care. Rudd calls his latest CD, White Moth, 'my proudest work' and the video and lyrics reflect his ethic to change the world. The video clip starts with images of the murderous whale hunt by the Japanese, depicts giant trees in threatened wild forests, and explores global suffering from all sorts of angles. In an era of suffering of both humanity and planet, voices like Xavier Rudd's and that of John Butler raise our collective consciousness and hopefully make this place a better world.

It rained last night. All night. The river valley was grey in the drizzle but the undergrowth was alive with the darting and chirping of tiny birds as they chased each other through the scrub, relishing in play and one of the few times this year it has rained. It was as if the place was becoming slowly alive in the dampness. The birds knew it.

People, when they meet each other, now comment on the coming of rain as something special, unusual, whereas rain in Brisbane is normally a frequent event. But not this year.

On the way home I met the priest at the local Anglican church near the river. She told me about how they are becoming more aware of ecological concerns and are trying to become more environmentally-friendly. The parish is installing water tanks and wants dual flush toilets. It has taken mainstream religions in Australia some time to join these ecological changes but the urgency of the water crisis has galvanised action. The Uniting and Catholic Churches are carrying out environmental audits, and a few years ago, the Catholic Church initiated Catholic Earthcare Australia, (2002) with the intention 'to mobilize its congregation - representing one-quarter of the Australian population - on environmental issues'.

Caring for creation is definitely on the agenda of the Australian National Counci of Churches, which through its 'Decade to Overcome Violence' is raising concerns about ecological violence alongside demands for peace and justice.

In the US, things have moved faster. But, at least initially, the relationship between mainstream religion and ecology seemed to be an individual rather than an institutional affair as people like Thomas Berry, Paul Santmire, Matthew Fox, Rosemary Radford Ruether, Sallie Mcfague, Mary Tucker and other luninaries laid the groundwork for changing community attitudes.

Then the institutions got involved - and some campaigns have been both innovative and successful. In 2002-2003, the Evangelical Environment Network (EEN) flushed some American TV stations with ads asking: 'What car would Jesus drive?'. Hopefully he might walk or ride a bike, but practically, a small environmentally-sensitive vehicle. EEN believes that environmental problems are moral and spiritual problems, and making a decision about which car to drive is essentially a moral decision.

Living as if the earth matters. This vital ethical approach has been a feature of ecophilosophies and ecospiritualities such as Paganism, Druidry and Goddess worship through sacred nature religion practice, as well as deep ecology and spiritual-ecofemininsm. Bron Taylor found a 'dark green religion' amongst forest activists and other nature carers and more recently has discussed aquatic nature religion, while my recent work has focused on ecological-spiritual relationships among marine activists that I frame as a 'deep blue religion'. In the end, it is about a profound reverence for the earth's dynamic and life-providing ecosystems.

These themes are immersed in the moving words of Xavier Rudd's 'Better People' who lyrically gives 'respect to the ones making changes'.

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