It was once religion which told us that we are all sinners

In the beginning, the great teachings of old told us that we are all bound by the weight of original sin—that through a single act of defiance in a distant garden, we inherited a flaw so profound that it tainted the very core of our being. It was through this lens that we viewed ourselves, a fallen people, doomed to struggle, to strive, and to seek redemption from a world that was now forever marred by sin. But as time has passed and the wisdom of the ages has evolved, we find ourselves facing a new burden. The ecology of our planet, a sacred and delicate web of life that has nurtured us for eons, now pronounces us all as sinners—not for an act of defiance, but for our very existence, our unchecked exploitation of the Earth’s bounty. Hans Jonas speaks of this transition, this shift from spiritual guilt to ecological guilt, for now it is not just our souls that are burdened, but the planet itself, crying out in distress from the wounds we have inflicted.

Let us take a moment to consider the story of Prometheus, the ancient titan who dared to steal fire from the gods and bestow it upon humankind. In doing so, he brought the gift of knowledge and progress, yet he also condemned humanity to the consequences of that knowledge. The fire, which illuminated the path of civilization, also became the very source of its downfall, for with it came the ability to exploit nature in ways that the gods had not foreseen. Prometheus, chained to a rock and punished by the gods, serves as a symbol of the cost of human invention—a cost that we are now beginning to reckon with in the form of environmental destruction, climate change, and the depletion of the natural resources that sustain us. We, too, are chained, though our chains are invisible, forged not by gods, but by our own hands.

In ages past, we looked to the heavens and to religious teachings for explanations of our suffering and our flaws. But now, it is the Earth that speaks to us, the very air we breathe, the waters we drink, the lands we till—all bearing the scars of our excessive exploits. The oceans choke on our waste, the forests are razed to make way for our desires, and the air is thick with the smoke of progress. Once, we believed ourselves to be masters of the Earth, to rule over the creatures of the land and the seas, but we have forgotten that with great power comes great responsibility. Just as the ancient wisdom cautioned against pride, so too must we now face the consequences of our arrogance. The Earth is not our possession; it is a living, breathing entity, and we are but stewards of its care.

And yet, there are those who still cling to the belief that the Earth’s wounds are self-inflicted, and that the suffering it endures is nothing more than the natural course of things. But this is a misunderstanding. The harm we have done is not the result of natural cycles or divine will, but of human choice. We have turned a blind eye to the consequences of our actions, whether in the name of progress, greed, or convenience. We have invented and exploited, all the while disregarding the balance of nature. In the great chain of life, we are but one link, and when we weaken that link, the entire chain suffers. The Earth is not a resource to be consumed, but a partner to be respected and cherished.

This is the message that Hans Jonas imparts to us. The sin that once resided in the hearts of men, the sin of disobedience and pride, has now found a new home in our actions toward the Earth. We have become, not sinners in the eyes of divine judgment, but sinners in the eyes of the very planet we depend upon. Yet, in this new understanding lies a profound opportunity. For if we are the ones who have caused the wounds, we are also the ones who can heal them. Redemption, then, is not a matter of appeasing divine wrath, but of mending our relationship with the Earth. It is in our power to change, to choose sustainability, balance, and respect for all living things.

Let us heed the lessons of the past and the warnings of the present. Our inventions, while they have brought great advancements, must no longer be wielded recklessly. We must turn our creative energies toward solutions that nurture, not exploit. Just as the fire brought both light and destruction, so too can our inventions bring both progress and peril. Our challenge now is to reconcile our progress with the health of the planet. Let us be humble in our inventions, wise in our choices, and stewards of the Earth. For in doing so, we may yet redeem ourselves—not just as individuals, but as a species. And in that redemption, the planet itself will find healing.