During Laudato Si’ Week, I want to add my voice to all those who campaign for the earth, our common home, including some of our nearest neighbours in the Pacific, writes Congregational Leader Sister Catherine McCahill.
More than 10,000 metres above the earth’s surface on a flight to the Pacific island nation of Kiribati, I reflect on the splendour of creation – the seen and unseen. Above and beyond, blue sky stretches into the depths of the cosmos; below, bluer. I know this is the blue of the Pacific Ocean but at this height I behold only a deep, still peace.
A layer of scattered clouds lies suspended between me and the ocean’s surface. Like wisps of cotton wool, clumped, twisted, stretched, I am amazed at their stillness. Some have form like rocky outcrops, some are darker and I know the density of water vapour is higher. I wonder where this water vapour will be dropped on the earth? Will it water some parched landscape, or fall into the immensity of the ocean?
Years ago, I taught the water cycle to adolescents. I wish that I had taken more time to provide an opportunity for them to wonder and appreciate this extraordinary natural phenomenon. Water, vapour, clouds, condensation, dew, rain – essential for life – the states in constant flux but the quantity remains fixed. How extraordinary!
At this point in the flight, I have the illusion that we are barely moving and yet the flight data indicates a ground speed of 850 kilometres per hour. I applaud the ingenuity of human creativity – this great piece of metal and other materials is expertly shaped and moving fast enough to maintain a high altitude.
Glancing up from my keyboard, I am startled by a rainbow. A broad bright arch of seven colours shimmers as it hovers between my plane and the earth’s surface. Wow! It is so unexpected.
I am drawn to pondering the revelation of God in creation and the relationship between humanity and the Creator. Like the Hebrews in the stories in Genesis, for me the rainbow speaks of God’s covenant with humanity, with me, with all those I know and love.
Nearly three hours after our departure, I catch my first sight of land – the Gilbert Islands, one of the groups within Kiribati. As the plane starts to descend, I can see the tiny islands, coral atolls poking up out of the deep. Vegetation and buildings emerge. Like paint on a canvas, the scene is two-dimensional.
The capital Tarawa appears in my window view. I realise we are flying over the lagoon as I look across Tarawa to the open ocean. A narrow strip of ‘habitable land’ is home to most of Kiribati’s population of more than 130,000 people.
Causeways join the dots, enabling the people to live, go to school and work across the communities of South Tarawa. Canoes and boats of various kinds cross the lagoon, providing connection between the smaller North Tarawa communities and the larger centre of government, health and business.
It’s whimsical, it’s beautiful, but it is so fragile. I note the closeness of the water to the people’s dwellings, and it is not yet high tide. Every time I come to Kiribati I am amazed at what has happened over time. Tiny coral atolls grew and emerged from the ocean. Vegetation found a home, then the people came, probably from other parts of Micronesia.
The islands now included in the Republic of Kiribati are spread over vast distances. The official government website states: “Kiribati’s exclusive economic zone (area of the ocean in which it controls fishing and other rights) covers more than 3 million square kilometres”.
The Sisters of the Good Samaritan have had a presence in Kiribati for 35 years, and today there are two communities of Sisters, one in Abaokoro and the other at Temaiku. Our Sisters are engaged in a variety of educational, pastoral and community development ministries.
My visits to Kiribati teach me much about being neighbour. The people are relaxed and welcoming. Living is simple and resources are scarce for many people, but I don’t see malnourished children or anyone sleeping ‘on the street’. There is food and shelter for everyone. I cannot say the same of my home country.
This visit overlaps with Laudato Si’ Week (17-24 May). Kiribati is already affected by climate change. Here, the effect cannot be offset by building smarter for cooler spaces or upgrading infrastructure. No, here, the effect is water inundating family dwellings. There is nowhere to go. There are no hills or land further from the shore. A small rise in the ocean will claim entire inhabited islands. The freshwater lens of underground drinkable water will become salted and unsuitable.
This Laudato Si’ Week, I want to add my voice to all those who campaign for the earth, our common home. I want to campaign on behalf of some of Australia’s nearest neighbours in the Pacific, and I include our own people in the Torres Strait, the Solomon Islands people.
Across our common home, tens of thousands of women, men and young people have signed up to the goals of the Laudato Si’ Movement. This year’s theme for Laudato Si’ Week is from hope to action.
Hope is not passive; it is lived and shared through daily choices, community life, prayer, and concrete acts of care. This year reminds us that ecological conversion grows step by step – through relationships restored, creation protected, and communities strengthened. The next chapter of Laudato Si’ begins with us, wherever we are.
As I write this column, I am on Tarawa in Kiribati where the consequences of climate change are more apparent and poignant. Next week, I will be back in Sydney where commodities and resources can so easily blind me to these consequences.
If hope leads to action, then I have responsibilities. As a consumer, I wonder about my use of so many things so readily available, my reliance on fossil fuels, my purchases. As a Congregational Leader, I wonder about my responsibilities for good governance attentive to the needs of our common home. I am mindful of our resources, our travel, our finances, our housing and so much more.
With images from the plane window fresh in my mind, I resolve to turn my ponderings into action in alignment with our Congregation’s Statement of Directions.
Gifted by our Good Samaritan Benedictine charism, we are committed to living our relationship with God, neighbour and the universe through:
ecological conversion which impels;
interculturality which transforms;
compassion which leads to justice;
hope which empowers mission.
