Saints and Sinners: The divineness of nature
The only church service I enjoy more than Sunday Evensong in an Episcopal church as “the shadows lengthen and the evening comes” is an outdoor service by a lake, in the woods or in the park.
The ocean waves breaking over the giant rocks as the minister intones the words, “Almighty God, unto whom all hearts are open, all desires known and from whom no secrets are hid …” provide the backdrop for a religious experience that is second to none.
People who don’t go to church will often tell you they feel closer to God out on the golf course on Sunday morning or otherwise enjoying the wonderful world of nature. I have often been skeptical of such claims.
Yet we all go on vacations or summer outings when, come Sunday, we are not near a church. At such times, we can either (1) forget about worship or (2) decide to have our own service. I decided on a recent Sunday to have my own service in the park.
I wanted to see whether you can feel closer to God in nature and whether you can get as much — or even more — out of worshipping away from church.
You can. I don’t mean this should be a substitute for church but, as a change, it can be a rewarding experience.
The ambiance in the park on this Sunday was just perfect. I was aware of the “Creation Beautiful,” which is the title of a book of meditations by Rev. Robert Zinsmeister. I used some of his lines for my prayer:
“How majestic your mind to have dreamed this beautiful world. Rounded mountains and wooded hills and low masses of white clouds in summer mirrored in the crystal-clear waters of Upper Killarney … Praised be your name! You have freely given this beauty to all your children.”
And as I lay on my stomach in the grass, I recalled a poem by the late Ted Robinson:
“Whether you go to tome or star, you dig too deep, you soar too far.
“My friend, some day when winter’s gone, go lie full-length upon the lawn, and watch the tides of life that pass among the slim stems of the grass.
“The stars are far. Lie on the sod. And let your spirit soak up God.”
It was a grand morning. There was no doubt about it.
Author John Tidyman once asked me to write a prayer for golfers which he published in his book, “The Golfer’s Bible.” I read it on this morning as I cooled my bare feet in a running stream:
“Forgive me, O Lord, if Sunday morning finds me at the golf course and not in church. Forgive me if I find You not in prayers and hymns but in Your great and glorious outdoors, more magnificent than any cathedral.
“Bless my driving and my putting. Direct the ball into the bunker only for my opponent’s shots. (If to ask this is unworthy of me, forgive this, too.) Amen.”
I closed my sermon by reading some of eloquent lines by Oscar Hammerstein II, author of such Broadway hits as “Oklahoma!” and “South Pacific” and songs such as “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.” Hammerstein wrote:
“I don’t believe anyone can enjoy living in this world unless he can accept its imperfections. Nature is older than man and she is still far from being perfect. Her summers do not always start promptly on June 21. Her bugs and beetles and other insects often go beyond her obvious intentions.
“It would be folly for an individual to seek to do better — to do better than to go on in his imperfect way, making his mistakes, riding out the rough and bewildering, exciting and beautiful storm of life until the day he dies.”
I passed only six other people and an Irish setter on my walk in the park. They all looked as happy as I to be out on a day like this. We all said hello (one barked) and moved on our way.
“Oh, what a beautiful morning.”
George Plagenz is an ordained minister and veteran newsman based in Columbus, Ohio.