Last night my wife made me watch the CNN Documentary, Black Fish.
(The type of “made me” where she just knew (because she knows me) that I would WANT to see it. Mixed a bit with the “made me” where she had already watched it and wanted to be able to have a shared experience with me.)
If you’re unfamiliar with this documentary, in a nutshell it is about how Sea World took Orca Whales from the wild, breeds them in small confined quarters, rips babies from their families, and causes sure psychological damage to these animals. And, as a result, far too many people have been brutally attacked, injured, and killed.
It was certainly one of the most disturbing things I’ve watched in a while. Heart breaking on a number of levels, including a very selfish one: our family (our boys!), have absolutely LOVED going to Sea World. It’s been our family’s place of choice to go have fun. We’ve probably been half a dozen times in the past two years, and each memory is precious to us.
But, of course, after watching Black Fish we will never step foot in that place again (unless it’s a midnight mission to free Willy).
Reflecting on the documentary and sharing all the thoughts I have would take too long, and I couldn’t do it justice. So I just invite you to watch it.
However there has been one thing that hasn’t left my recently haunted mind yet.
Something that, once the credits began to roll, caused my inner-self to weep.
The part of me that is specifically and uniquely “human” was very, very sad.
To explain what I’m getting at, here is an excerpt from Paul’s letter to the church in Rome.
18 Now I’m sure of this: the sufferings we endure now are not even worth comparing to the glory that is coming and will be revealed in us. 19 For all of creation is waiting, yearning for the time when the children of God will be revealed. 20 You see, all of creation has collapsed into emptiness, not by its own choosing, but by God’s. Still He placed within it a deep and abiding hope 21that creation would one day be liberated from its slavery to corruption and experience the glorious freedom of the children of God. 22 For we know that all creation groans in unison with birthing pains up until now. 23 And there is more; it’s not just creation—all of us are groaning together too. Though we have already tasted the firstfruits of the Spirit, we are longing for the total redemption of our bodies that comes when our adoption as children of God is complete— (Romans 8:18-23, The Voice)
We (humans) sit at the top of the food chain. We sit at the top of the consciousness chain. We sit at the top of the Creator’s Creation.
We are the collective CEO’s entrusted with this place. What happens on our watch, to the creatures and the environment in our care, is on US.
And when I watch something like Black Fish, I am struck with this thought: We have an incredible capacity to fuck up our jobs.*
The Orcas, that we have captured and ripped from their families (and continue to rip from families), that we keep locked up and forced to do our bidding, are part of the creation that has “collapsed into emptiness.”
Watching those whales last night you could see (and hear!) the “groaning” for liberation.
The pleading for the caretakers (us, humanity, the CEO’s) to help actually take care of them.
The sense I get from Paul, in the above passage, is that part of what he’s getting at is this: you and I (meaning, humanity) have been given a wonderful and beautiful gift in Christ and through God’s Spirit, the gift of freedom, of new life, of redemption and liberation. But creation and the created order has not yet entered in to that reality. It has a deep and abiding hope that one day it will be “liberated from its slavery to corruption and experience the glorious freedom of the children of God.”
We have a gift.
Therefore we are under obligation to be aware of that, to cause that to matter to us, to do something about it.
The Bible begins, for Pete’s-sake, with the charge for us to care for Creation.
Anyways, Black Fish was a profound experience. Listening to the Orca families literally weep as their kids are ripped from them was haunting enough, and then on top of that I had Paul’s words from above filling the chambers of my mind, demanding to be heard amidst the cries of the Killer Whales.
We can do better.
We have to do better.
It’s on us.
It’s on you.
You have been given the gift of liberation.
And when you hear the groaning of the black fish,
Use it wisely.
Use it well.
- – - – - – - – - – - – -
*I realize that some of my readers are uncomfortable with my choice in words here. And I do apologize if I caused you to read/say/think a word that you try and generally avoid. That being said, I chose it with great purpose and intentionality, for it is probably the only/best word to convey the deep sense of anger, frustration, and intensity of my emotion. To say that “ripping babies from their families” is really messing up, or really screwing up, just doesn’t cut it. And I’m willing to bet you’d agree.