Thomas S. Hibbs’ A Theology of Creation: Ecology, Art, and Laudato Si' is a slim, substantial volume that synthesizes insights from popular culture, poetry, fine art, and philosophy to articulate a robust and moving theology of creation. The most significant contribution of Hibbs’ book is how it demonstrates the poignancy and value of works of poetry and visual art for the work of articulating a sophisticated and compelling theological account of the place, and responsibilities, of humanity within God’s creation in our ecologically precarious situation. Hibbs shows how human creativity can serve as a balm for the wounds of our contemporary alienation.
In chapter 1, Hibbs sets the stage by describing the antisocial, anticultural, and ultimately antihuman tendencies of our contemporary technocratic milieu. He contends that neither the deracinated anthropocentrism of technologists that subjects everything to human control nor a reactionary biocentrism that denies the differences between humans and other animals can offer us what is needed to find our bearings again in the cosmos. Hibbs argues that heretofore neglected theological resources identified by Laudato Si’—namely premodern Christian reflection on virtue—can be augmented with insights from contemporary artists to provide a way forward. “To respond to the alienating features of modern thought and culture,” Hibbs contends, “requires a renewed understanding of human making, of the place of human persons within the whole of creation, and a renewal of certain kinds of virtues: wonder, receptivity, gratitude, and generosity” (xi).
Chapters 2 and 3 begin to build bridges from the past to the present through dialogue with the work of Jacques Maritain and Fredrich Nietzsche, respectively. Since genealogical accounts of modernity often draw sharp lines between traditional Christian convictions and what has emerged in modern culture, Hibbs first explains how Jacques Maritain’s reflections on art can provide a bridge between venerable Christian conceptions of philosophy and anthropology and modern art. Hibbs then turns to Nietzsche, in dialogue with the work of William Desmond, Jean-Luc Marion, and Charles De Koninck, to build a positive contemporary account of artistic creativity. Hibbs argues that human creativity, or poiesis, is a preeminently natural, virtuous, and appropriate response to our recognition of the gratuitous and developing nature of the cosmos.
Chapters 4 through 6 display the theological resonances of the works of the nature poet Robinson Jeffers (1887–1962), Beat poet William Everson (1902–1994), and painter Georges Rouault (1871–1958). Jeffers, who practiced a philosophy he called “inhumanism,” humbles humanity by confronting us with our smallness and ignorance in the face of the sublimity of the more-than-human world. Thus, he is an avowed biocentrist. Yet Hibbs notes an irony in his work: it is only through Jeffers’ attentive, profound, and compelling creativity—that is, through his humanity—that the poet is able to express so well the themes of human fragility and dependence upon the more-than-human world. Everson’s work proves an even more fruitful theological source because it shows the capacity of poetry to invite humanity into the midst of created and divine mysteries and so affirm our characteristic limitations and capacities for self-transcendence in the community of creation. Finally, Hibbs explains how Rouault’s paintings seamlessly integrate humanity into the whole of our environment, “supply[ing] a visual counter to anthropocentrism and biocentrism, even as he overcomes the Romantic dilemma of the problematic status of human persons in the cosmos” (128).
In the final chapter, Hibbs compares the works of expressionist Makoto Fujimura (b. 1960) and abstract painter Mark Rothko (1903–1970) to issue a challenge and call to artists—and theologians and philosophers—to boldly create in a way that is congruent with and builds towards ecological flourishing. While Rothko’s anxious paintings can be understood as the dénouement of nihilism, Fujimura’s joyous works invite readers into “the infinite richness of being, of sublime beauty, and joy—dispositions of the soul conducive to the practice of ecological virtues” (148).
Hibbs’ monograph is a powerful and timely work. It demonstrates the power of authentic art for encouraging and sustaining a humane and ecologically conscious faith in our ecologically fraught time. The scope and depth of Hibbs’ erudition is admirable. Aside from his salutary engagement with the excellent work of Fujimura, though, his other major interlocutors are all Western, and none are women. Adding or supplementing this work with more diverse voices would not only be fitting since it rightly emphasizes the goodness of the difference and particularity of creation, but also such harmony could only serve to strengthen Hibbs’ arguments. Ultimately, though, A Theology of Creation is compelling. As Hibbs puts it concisely, “the artists reflect a wisdom about the cosmos and the human place within it that is wiser and more comprehensive than that of many philosophers and theologians. They provide pedagogies in seeing, feeling, and describing the rich contours, the mysterious depths, and the illuminating paradoxes of the human condition” (28). This book will prove stimulating for contemporary theologians and philosophers, clergy, and dedicated laypersons with interests in Catholic social thought, ecotheology, theological aesthetics, and the place of the arts in theological reflection.
Joseph K. Gordon is a professor of theology at Johnson University.
Joseph K. Gordon
Date Of Review:
October 17, 2024