By Professor Morwenna Ludlow, Canon Theologian
One of my most vivid memories of this summer is being surprised by a seal at Slapton beach.
My daughter was enjoying a few days back in Devon, escaping the city where she works and showing her fiancé her favourite places. By contrast with the crowds at the beach we had swum from earlier, the long pebbly beach at Slapton seemed almost deserted. One or two people were swimming in the sea. A man and his son had a fishing line set up. A few others like us were walking along the beach. The sea and the air were absolutely still. It was extremely peaceful. I had never been to Slapton before. My daughter had last visited as a primary school child on a chilly autumn school trip. She felt strongly the difference from the wet and windy weather, surrounded by small friends in various stages of excitement and grumpiness, teachers trying to corral them into order. So even she felt as though she was discovering it for the first time.
Then, as we walked, we noticed a large shape in the water: a very large seal, overtaking us as we walked. Swiftly and elegantly, but soundlessly, it glided through the shallows up the beach, gently weaving around the surprised swimmers and the fishing line. Its progress was so silent that I think it passed some people by; others noticed and pointed and called out, but either the seal did not notice or – was I imagining it? – it almost seemed to accept the attention. This beautiful creature gave every impression of owning the beach. We were the interlopers.
So often when we visit places, there’s that excitement of discovery. It’s not just the stimulus of a new place, but the paradoxical feeling that, even though other people have been there before, we are discovering something new about the place for the first time. I think it’s important not to dismiss that feeling. My experience is unique, and that is what binds me to a place in my memory and creates the kind of care and affection for the world around me that is necessary if I am going to care for it.
I can’t visit everywhere in the world that I am called to care for. But exercising those emotional muscles that delight in the parts of the world around us helps us to develop that profound response which Christians call ‘creation care’. However, the seal at Slapton reminds us of the other aspect of creation care too: the recognition that however much we might delight in the excitement of our ‘discovery’, creation does not really belong to us. Alongside my delight and my personal connection with a place, I also need to develop a sense of awe: that realisation that there are things there that I will never understand, things that I can never possess – things that a surprising seal will always know better than I.