Reflection - Nature and Faith
- John Scoble
- May 14
- 2 min read
I am on retreat at Santa Teresa Spirituality Centre, Ormiston, Brisbane. I'm sitting in the Blessed Sacrament Chapel gazing out at the landscape on a cold and windy afternoon.
Out the floor-to-ceiling window of the Chapel. I can see Moreton Bay and the vivid blue water. I can see the land between me and the water; it is a mixture of greens, yellows and browns. I also see the sky; it is overcast and a whitish grey. Here are the major building blocks of life on earth - water, land and the air that we breathe.
I begin to reflect on my life and my faith. As I do so, I observe the very large gum tree that dominates the foreground of the picture before me. Its branches are being blown around by the very strong wind. And then, a metaphor forms in my mind.
The tree represents me. Its strong roots keep it firmly anchored to the ground. Its roots signify my Christian faith, formed by dedicated parents, nourished by the Brigidine nuns and Christian Brothers who educated me, and enriched by the worshipping communities I joined. The trunk, wide and tall, represents the spiritual growth that I have experienced through family, career, volunteering, prayer and personal development.
The wind blows the branches of the tree around wildly. I think of the wind as the external forces that have battered me down through the years - failed friendships, lost loved ones, personal disappointments and plans unfulfilled. Some of the branches are old and dead; they represent parts of my life which have ended or habits from which I have chosen to detach. Some branches are strong and healthy; they represent the parts of my life that continue to strongly nourish me, like my marriage, my children, my siblings, long-standing friendships and my interest in sports and reading. Some branches are young and fresh; they represent new friendships and new projects that I have started in recent years. They are full of promise.
I marvel at the strength and resilience of the tree. It is sustained by the love of our Creator. It is nourished, as am I, by the rainwater and the nutrients of the land. It breathes oxygen into the sky and I welcome it with every breath.
Frequently, I return to that tree in my daily meditation sessions. It is both a consolation and a source of gratitude.
Have you ever had a similar insight?
How does nature inform your faith?
The black oil-slick graphic we start with feels unintentionally ominous but offers a point of spiritual entry that Jung might favour. Let me explain. Today I had the experience of visiting a middle-aged cradle-Catholic friend in care, brought up on a drip-feed of Augustinianism - hopefully of the variety not enveloping the new Pope - & with a lifelong battle against the forces of sin & guilt that his late Jansenist mother & Calvinist father, both doctors, fed him ever since it was discovered at his birth that he had Spina Bifida.
Since then he has spent all his life atoning for the unimaginable sins he grew up to believe he committed before he was fitted out with a cranial…