…Maker of Heaven and Earth…

My current midweek series here on the blog is exploring the theology and spirituality of the Nicene Creed. As it happens, today’s reading from the Old Testament is the creation story from Genesis 1, which happens to tie in perfectly to the next line in the Creed, which affirms that God our Father is the “Maker of heaven and earth, of all that is, seen and unseen.” So today’s post will do double-duty as a Sunday reflection and as part of this series.

What stands out to me so far in this series is how the words of the Creed are like portals into vast theological worlds. The Creed itself is pretty spare. It tells a story, but does not comment much on it. But behind the words of that story there lies a rich and robust system of faith. In contemporary language, the Creed is almost like a wiki, with every word or phrase hyperlinked to hundreds of years of reflection and debate. In order to understand the Creed and what it’s supposed to mean for our lives, we can’t just assume we know what the words entail; we need to ‘clink the links’ and find out more. Otherwise, we might miss the point entirely and not see that our faith turns much of its language inside out. For example, it’s been common for the language of ‘the Father Almighty’ to be used to reinforce existing patriarchal and kyriarchal hierarchies, rather than reinterpret and ultimately undermine those words, turning them into the forces of love, grace, and humility the example and teaching of Christ demands.

I say all this because the affirmation that God is the “Maker of heaven and earth” likewise demands a lot of attention and unpacking. For the creation stories of Genesis 1-2, and their conclusion in the Fall narrative of Genesis 3 have had a tremendous influence on Christian thought and identity — far more than they ever have had on Judaism. Even in just the past couple years here, I’ve unpacked the Creation story in order to better understand:

To confess in the Creed that God is the “Maker of heaven and earth,” says a lot about both God and the world. It affirms that God made the universe out of loving intention. It affirms the underlying unity and connectedness of all things in God and as manifestations of God’s Word through the working of the Spirit. It affirms that humanity comes at the end of things, and therefore the plants and animals are our older cousins. It affirms that we have a unique calling to be as God within the world, and not to rule over creation with an iron fist, but to tend and cultivate it lovingly on God’s behalf. And, it affirms that we, and the whole world, were created ‘very good.’ No matter what we may say about the Fall — the Creed itself is silent on this count — we are at least in our original design and purpose, whole and created to embody and reflect God’s love.

To ‘heaven and earth’ as the objects of God’s creation are added “all that is, seen and unseen.” I’ve always loved this addition. It speaks to the mysteries of the universe, affirming that there is so much more to creation than what we see. In the fourth century context, this referred primarily to the ‘spiritual realm’ of angels and demons, which were understood to be part of creation whether we see them or not. But it’s just as important in our own context; as powerful and beneficial as our best scientific theories are, contemporary physics can only account for about five per cent of the universe. Ninety-five percent of what makes the universe what it is is not only unexplained but invisible to us, still to this day. I have little doubt that physics will begin to unravel this problem, but for now it’s a wonder testimony to just how vast and mysterious Creation is.

What might all this have to do with Christian spirituality? First, it should lead us to wonder, awe, curiosity, and worship. From the fiery colours of a sunrise to the playful flight of a hummingbird, the world around us stands as a witness to God’s creativity. There is diversity of every kind in Creation, including the kinds of diversity and difference that we argue and fight over in church and society. Even the less romantic truths about the natural world — the very real ‘red in tooth and claw’ stuff we must never forget — should give us pause, cause us to slow down and offer our respect to forces in the world that are so much bigger and stronger than we are, and to the God who created them.

But, as we’ve also seen, our creation is also a vocation, a calling to live in a certain way: a way that reflects image and likeness of God in the world. At its most basic level, if we believe God is love, then our role is to be love in the world. If we believe that God is just, and God’s justice is the justice of mercy and compassion, then our ideals of justice must similarly be grounded in mercy and compassion. It is, of course, an easy vocation to talk about, but a far more difficult one to live out.

This ends the first part of the Creed, which points to the kind of God that is at the centre of our lives as Christians. And who is this God? God is one — unified and whole. God is the Father Almighty, the loving parent who stops at nothing to bring us into the family and provide for us and our care. God is the Creator of a vast, beautiful (and yes, terrifying) world, full of diversity and mystery. This same God created us too, in God’s very image and likeness, and calls to to be witnesses, symbols, and representatives of all that God is in this world.

We believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, of all that is, seen and unseen. …

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