One of the controversial new housing developments on the island is slated to go up not far from the Rectory. It’s one of the projects that has been in the newspaper and has been part of local debate about new construction. It’s one of the developments that
has raised flags about soft approvals and moving ahead quickly, before all necessary documentation was complete (alleged in local media stories). The site, on the corner of Harrington Lane and North Harrington, was cleared months ago. Shortly thereafter, it was caught up in the moratorium on north-end building, as a result of our over-taxed sewer system. Since then, it has remained a large field with only a few trees on it, waiting for its hoped-for 49 homes to be built.
I have to admit that I felt much like one of my daughters who was distraught the day she saw the large equipment clearing the land, knocking down trees and brush, and signaling the end to its “natural” state. I don’t know many people who enjoy seeing green spaces destroyed, especially beautiful green spaces. I also realize that there are times it is necessary. In answer to the question from a nine-year-old, “Why do people cut down trees just to build more houses?” I had to point out that our own home (the Rectory) stands where there were once more trees and plants, as does every structure on this island. There is no choice but to admit that humans have always altered the land they inhabit in order to serve their needs. It’s not unlike the reminder that all of us (or at least our ancestors) were immigrants at one point. We may or may not have cleared the land our homes are on, but someone had to do it or we wouldn’t be living there.
Somewhere along the Pennsylvania Turnpike there is a rest stop with a historical display discussing the logging industry of the 19th century. I forget the exact details, but I remember reading that there were no trees in that part of the state that were older than 100 years or so, because all of the trees had
been cut for timber that recently. Gone were the old growth forests of towering trees that stood for who knows how long, and which will not soon return, if ever. I remember learning the same thing about the community where we lived when I served in Maryland. A photograph from the Civil War era showed how long the view to the Potomac River was because all the trees had been logged. The Rectory there was actually a pre-Civil War log structure, so it made sense.
In reality, the amount of forested area in the United States that could be considered “old-growth” is very small; 7-10% depending on whom you ask, although there is no single definition of old-growth. Most of what is generally accepted as old growth is out West, with very little here in the East. The majority of what remains is on protected public lands. It is quite staggering to realize just how industrious humans have been and continue to be when it comes to changing the landscapes around them. And again, I’m not suggesting it’s all bad. On the contrary, we need to build for all the reasons that we need buildings of various sorts. There does reach a point, however, at which we might want to give serious thought to questions of overdevelopment, or consider ways of balanced, smart development.
We are becoming more conscious of our place in a much larger ecosystem, for example. Although those who pay close attention to animal habitats and populations are often lumped in with the tree-huggers, we have learned the hard way that changing ecosystems can have far-reaching consequences. The elimination of habitats or the types of animals in a given habitat send ripples that can take many years to discern. It can be seen in fisheries, and other places. The experience of reintroducing wolves into Yellowstone has been a perfect example of this for naturalists and biologists. They’ve learned that having wolves in the park again has indeed cut down on the number of deer, which in turn has led to less damage to the undergrowth and grasses, which in turn has literally changed the course of a river. For fun, Google “trophic cascade” and you will learn about how some of this plays out.
We like to think that we can control much of our environment. We invented air conditioning to escape the heat and humidity. We have (in theory) invented effective bug sprays to deal with pesky and even dangerous insects (Zika anyone?). We routinely change the course of water, and we’ve realized we can shape beaches too. We’ve mastered the natural elements of the world we inhabit, learning to build,mine, quarry, clear, and farm. We are even
learning to manipulate life at the cellular level. Twenty plus years ago, the film Jurassic Park dealt with some of these issues in a wonderful, cinematic way. One exchange between the creator of the dinosaur park and the scientist that advised him, started with a critique of, “the lack of humility before nature,” inherent in the creation of the fictionalized dinosaur park: “Your scientists were so preoccupied with whether or not they could, that they didn’t stop to think if they should.” That exchange provides the tension that supports the whole film (and book).
Some Christians think that humility before nature is overrated and specifically unwarranted thanks to the creation stories in Genesis. There are those who use the oral tradition of ancient peoples as proof that God intended our dominion over the creation and that we could therefore do whatever we wanted with it. Interestingly, those same people are likely to consider that everything changed after Eden; everything except our control of nature. What we could really benefit from is some learned humility before nature, to not develop and build simply because we can, but to occasionally stop and ask if we should.
Admittedly I am one of those “newcomers” to the Island who worries about overdevelopment for all the reasons we need to be concerned about it. The practical reasons are important, but I’m always worried about the natural reasons for it. I have a lot of respect for the work the Land Trust is doing to preserve parts of the Island in perpetuity. I hail from Lancaster County, PA where much of the richest farmland in the country has been repurposed for McMansion developments. The Farm Preservation work there has been immensely helpful in preserving a vanishing natural resource. I hope our local leaders will figure out a way to balance physical and economic development with our natural resources and their availability (more building means more paved surfaces, etc.), and I hope we can manage the process without harming the social fabric of our larger community and how we handle issues of governance and taxation.
Matters of zoning, calculations of tax bases, and things like sewer system capacity are not typically matters in which the Church has a direct stake. We do, however, have a stake in the conversation about the care of creation and our good stewardship of the world we have been blessed to inhabit. I don’t have the answers to all the questions we face, but I do think we need to wrestle with them. The Church’s role comes to bear not on the questions of what we can do, but on the questions of whether we should do them. Part of our calling is to be a voice of humility before nature, and the Episcopal Church has a long history of doing just that. This is, no doubt, what I’ll be thinking about in a couple of years, when I can no longer turn onto Frederica Road because of the increased traffic on North Harrington.
Tom+
Almighty God, in giving us dominion over things on earth, you made us fellow workers in your creation: Give us wisdom and reverence so to use the resources of nature, that no one may suffer from our abuse of them, and that generations to come may continue to praise you for your bounty; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. BCP p. 827