PAUL SANTMIRE. EcoActivist Testament: Explorations of Faith and Nature for Fellow Travelers. Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2022. Pp. 133. $22 (U.S.)
EcoActivist Testament is a quick read that discusses, in conversational fashion, a few of the theological and practical lessons from Lutheran theologian H. Paul Santmire’s life-long vocation of connecting ecoactivism to Christian faith. Santmire has had a fruitful career as a Christian ecoactivist in academia and the pulpit, and his stories and reflections pass on a variety of lessons from the great cloud of Christian ecoactivist witnesses to the next generation of Christians pursuing the right relationship with God and creation. For seasoned—and thus exhausted and discouraged—Christian ecoactivists, Santmire’s reflections on faith and creation, and some of the lessons from his life, can certainly be welcome and sustaining, offering intergenerational Christian witness in a space where young people (like myself) often feel alone, or like the first generation to stand up against climate change.
Santmire’s decision to frequently connect scripture to preserving the natural world, particularly John 3:16 (translated as ‘for God so loved the cosmos’), and his reflections on the life and legacy of Saint Francis of Assisi provide a variety of touching images and scriptural themes relating to creation care. For pastors looking for scriptures relating to creation care to preach on and anecdotes to share with a congregation, this would be a good book to pick up. Also, the lay Christian reader committed to climate action would also benefit from “some of the things I [Santmire] have learned along the way—autobiographically, biblically, theologically, and spiritually . . . that I hope will encourage you” (2).
Personally, while I am passionate about combating climate change and preserving God’s marvelous creation, I found the book didn’t break as much new ground as I would have liked. As it is an attempt to write a conversational book spanning a variety of disciplines, it should be no surprise that it feels a little disorganized. However, I found the jump between topics and lack of overall cohesion meant that I don’t know what the overall message of the book was, other than the basic fact that Christians should connect their faith to their ecoactivism and find ways to remain engaged in the work by drawing deeply at the well of God’s power, as revealed in nature. This is a goal I heartily support, but I also believe it is a connection most people likely to read this book have already made, perhaps making this book more suited for the Christian beginning to explore ecoactivism rather than for the seasoned activist who already reads widely on the topic. While some of Santmire’s reflections on his times in nature are quite profound—as I found in his description of the forest path by his home, which he walks daily and works throughout the year to maintain in partnership with plants, animals, and God—others felt familiar and simply didn’t break new theological or ecological ground.
While there is not a great deal of connection to Anabaptist circles in the book, Santmire’s choice to spend a full chapter on the life and legacy of Saint Francis of Assisi—easily the most popular Christian in my circles between the so-called conversion of Constantine and 1525—felt very familiar. His writing as a deeply generous and ecumenical Lutheran was heartening to me, in that he discussed a wide variety of Christian climate change efforts elsewhere in the Protestant world with which I was unfamiliar. He also highlighted Christian creation care efforts in the Catholic world, spending a good bit of time on Pope Francis’ encyclical Laudato Sí. I share Santmire’s desire for Christian ecoactivists to collaborate whenever possible, and we have much to learn from one another in this theological arena, as in others.
I was somewhat put off by the final chapter of the book, “Doing Nothing: The Political Mission of the Church and the Global Ecojustice Crisis.” While drawing on Stanley Hauerwas, a Methodist whose deep Anabaptist influences are well known, Santmire argues that Christian ecoactivists should frequently set aside their work, do nothing, and praise God. I somewhat agree; far too many Christian activists forget to remember and celebrate that God is ultimately in control, and that God is ultimately good, working his purposes out mysteriously even in the face of climate cataclysm. But I do not think a message of doing nothing meets the moment of our current ecological crisis, nor the imperatives of the Sermon on the Mount. Perhaps Santmire could have restyled his message as prioritizing sabbat —what all activists (including Jesus!) certainly need to do to remain connected to God and hope. That move, rather than a conclusion pointing towards a better political, theological, or ecological future, where climate change catastrophe is averted while the church rests, would have riled my senses less.
There were two small typographical errors that attracted my attention. The roman numerals separating sections within chapters are followed by periods throughout the book, except for the very first, on page two. Additionally, in a quotation from Job 38 on page 95, ‘it’ is mistakenly replaced with ‘in.’
In conclusion, if you’re looking for a freewheeling and wide-ranging conversation with an experienced Christian ecoactivist in book form, this is a quick read with some useful insights and reflections. At the same time, I don’t think Santmire would fault a potential reader for choosing to spend more time in God’s creation than in the pages of this book. In addition, though neither are overtly Christian, I suggest two other books for newer Christian ecoactivists: Robin Wall Kimmerer’s classic Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge, and the Wisdom of Plants and the 2020 anthology All We Can Save: Truth, Courage, and Solutions for the Climate Crisis.