“Bless the Lord, all you works of the Lord”
Boyet Dalogdog
Image source: INQUIRER.net Facebook page
"Bless the Lord, all you works of
the Lord, praise and exalt him above all forever." (Daniel 3:57, NABRE)
Every handiwork of God — whether great or small — gives praise to the Creator.
The whole of creation sings a continuous hymn, glorifying the One who grants
each creature its very being. To silence even one of them is not merely an act
of environmental negligence; it is a theological affront — it deprives that
creature of its rightful participation in the chorus of creation.
"Ang
sakit sa mata pagmasdan itong kapuputol lang na puno na para bang literal na
dumudugo pa." (It
is a pain in the eyes to look at this freshly cut tree — it literally looks
like it is still bleeding.) These were the words of GMA News reporter Mark
Salazar in a reel that found its way into my social media feed. Reportedly, the
Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR) granted a permit — an
Environmental Compliance Certificate — to cut down decades-old trees to make
way for the Southern Access Link Expressway, a project by San Miguel
Corporation (SMC).
This project is expected to fell 617
trees along Quirino Avenue to construct a 3.97-kilometer elevated expressway.
As of my research, at least 225 trees had already been cut down, among them a
50-year-old Narra — a tree that is, by no coincidence, our national tree. DENR
requires SMC to plant 50,700 tree seedlings within the City of Manila to offset
what was destroyed.
Predictably, this decision drew public
backlash. Individuals and institutions alike expressed their grief and outrage.
And one question, achingly simple, demands an answer: How much of the
environment can we afford to sacrifice on the altar of economic development?
This incident is but one episode in an
unrelenting story of human intervention across the archipelago — exploitation
dressed in the language of progress. Rivers and mountains are quarried for
gravel and filling material. Forests are cleared for urban expansion,
displacing the wildlife that found sanctuary in them. Shorelines are reclaimed,
crushing fragile habitats beneath the weight of concrete, all to furnish more
ground for development. The logic of profit has colonized our imagination of
the future.
As political leadership remains
captive to self-serving ambitions and corporate opportunism advances unchecked,
who, then, will stand in defense of creation against the relentless advance of
human greed? This is not merely a political question, it is a profoundly moral
and spiritual one. Upholding the integrity of creation, what the late Pope
Francis rightly called our "common home," is a responsibility that
transcends faith, politics, and race. It is a duty inscribed in our very
humanity.
And yet the deeper crisis lies not in
science but in morality. The ecological crisis is, at its root, a moral crisis,
a crisis of how we see, value, and relate to creation. St. Pope John Paul II
declared as much in his 1990 World Day of Peace Message, Peace with God the
Creator, Peace with All of Creation. Just as workers have long been reduced to
mere "human capital," instruments serving an economic end rather than
persons bearing inviolable dignity, so too has creation been reduced to a reservoir
of exploitable resources. The parallel is not accidental. The oppression of the
poor and the degradation of the earth share the same root: the treating of
persons and creation as objects of profit. As Pope Francis wrote,
"Everything is connected" (Laudato Si', no. 91) — and thus,
ecological justice falls squarely within the scope of the Church's social
teaching.
Pope Benedict XVI further underscores
the Church's call to protect creation:
"The environment is God's gift to everyone, and in
our use of it we have a responsibility towards the poor, towards future
generations and towards humanity as a whole." (Caritas in Veritate, no.
48)
To protect the environment is to practice
intergenerational justice, to acknowledge that the children of tomorrow will
inherit not our wealth, but the consequences of our greed. Whoever planted
those trees cut down to build an expressway once dreamed of something enduring:
shade, clean air, a living legacy. That dream was brought to its end by
chainsaws fueled with greed and licensed by bureaucracy. Can decades of growth
ever be replaced by seedlings scattered elsewhere? Given the extent of Manila's
urbanization, I doubt that 50,700 seedlings can even be planted. And if
planted, who will ensure they survive? What mechanism does DENR have to monitor
their growth, to protect them from neglect, from concrete, from the next wave
of development? The deeper question remains: can any number of seedlings ever
restore the present benefits that 617 living trees provided daily, the shade
for pedestrians, the pollutants absorbed year after year along the crowded
sidewalks of Quirino Avenue?
Every person, Catholic or not, has not
only the right but the moral imperative to be disturbed — to be angry, at this
unjust felling of trees. And not only this, but at every injustice committed
when human greed exploits creation, leaving the poor to bear the full
devastation of its effects while the wealthy quietly count their profits.
"Man's dominion over inanimate and other living beings… is not
absolute." (Catechism of the Catholic Church, no. 2415) The silence of
creation must not be mistaken for consent. That it cannot speak or defend
itself does not make it a tool for our use without moral consequence. "The
use of mineral, vegetable, and animal resources of the universe cannot be
divorced from respect for moral imperatives." (CCC, no. 2415)
May Filipinos grow not only in their
socio-political consciousness but, more urgently, in their ecological
consciousness, learning to demand justice for creation with the same passionate
intensity with which they cry out when innocent human lives are violently taken
away. "Living our vocation to be protectors of God's handiwork is
essential to a life of virtue." (Laudato Si', no. 217) The tree that
bleeds is not merely a tree. It is a sacramental sign, a wound in the body of
our common home, a silent indictment of who we are choosing to become.
________________
About the author, he is a theology and philosophy
lecturer based in Zamboanga City. Formed in Pastor Bonus Seminary in
Zamboanga City and St. John Vianney Theological Seminary in Cagayan de Oro
City, his work in the academe bridge rigorous philosophical inquiry
with deep pastoral theology. Known for his public lectures in institutions of
higher education in Zamboanga City which he intricately connects
faith, and contemporary morality, bringing a distinct, modern ministerial voice
to Catholic literature.
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