When the Earth Mourns: Jeremiah, Idols, and the Cry of Creation

The book of Jeremiah offers a stark picture of collapse. In one passage, the prophet describes a reversal of Creation itself: the earth “without form and void,” light extinguished, towns in ruins, the land turned to desert, and the birds vanished from the skies. The very “Earth mourns,” grieving the loss of beauty and abundance.

For Jeremiah, this devastation is not arbitrary but the consequence of human foolishness. People, he says, are “skilled in doing evil” but ignorant of how to do good. In his time, the charge was against Judah’s worship of Baal—“loathsome idols” of stone and wood that displaced devotion to God. In turning to “gods that are no gods,” the people set themselves on a path that would lead to ruin, with the desolation of land, air, and creatures as visible evidence of judgment.

Though written some 600 years before Christ, the imagery feels unsettlingly current. The South African theologian Rev. Chesnay Frantz, writing for the Season of Creation, highlights how extractive industries driven by greed continue to scar the land and poison water. He describes townships living with waste dumps as neighbours, while clean air becomes a privilege. The parallels to Jeremiah are difficult to miss: economic idols consuming communities and ecosystems alike.

We know too well the global examples: the accelerating destruction of the Amazon rainforest, or conflicts where human lives are sacrificed to the supposed gods of Security and Power. Money, Power, and Security—like the Baals of Jeremiah’s day—are today’s idols, commanding sacrifice at vast human and ecological cost.

Frantz points out that these structures of exploitation are not accidents of modernity but deeply rooted in history. Colonialism and apartheid dispossessed peoples of land and turned both communities and ecosystems into commodities. In South Africa, forests and villages alike were bulldozed in the name of profit. Similar logics are now visible in the Amazon, where logging, beef farming, and mining continue to ravage environments. The dispossession of Palestinians, framed in terms of “security,” is another reminder of how entire peoples can be sacrificed to modern idols.

And yet Jeremiah also delivers a note of hope: “I will not make a full end,” God says (Jer 4:27). Frantz interprets this not as divine revenge but divine grief—heartbreak at broken relationships. Judgment, in this sense, is grief with a call to return.

That call invites a broad reckoning. Planting trees, important as it is, cannot be the whole answer. Reconciliation with Creation means addressing structural injustices: returning stolen land, restoring dignity to those disinherited, and dismantling exploitative economies.

For those of us in Britain, this requires honesty about history. Our relatively comfortable lifestyles are rooted, in part, in wealth accumulated through slavery and colonial dispossession. The Church of England has acknowledged its own implication in these histories, including profits from slave plantations in the Caribbean. Efforts such as the Fund for Healing, Repair and Justice mark tentative but hopeful steps towards repair.

Recognising injustices of the past, however, does not absolve us from confronting present ones. Oil pipelines in Uganda, mining on sacred lands, or military campaigns that displace whole peoples continue the same pattern of sacrifice to false gods. If institutions like the Church are to have a prophetic voice, they must also examine their own practices and complicity.

The Eco-Church initiative is one practical way congregations are attempting to do this—measuring their carbon use, considering sustainable lifestyles, and encouraging collective action. Each individual choice matters: how we travel, how we use energy, how we consume. But there is also power in groups—whether gardening clubs, repair cafés, or faith communities—where skills, ideas, and encouragement can be shared.

Restoring right relationships with Creation, with one another, and with God is daunting work. Yet Jeremiah’s vision, Frantz’s reflections, and the practical efforts of churches remind us that despair is not the end of the story. The Earth may mourn, but the call remains to live differently—rejecting idols, seeking justice, and finding abundance not in exploitation but in restored covenant.

Margaret Healey Pollett