As I started reading Hebrews, I was struck by the author’s sidenote assertion in verse 10, “…God, for whom…all things exist.” I exist for God. You exist for God. The black squirrel exists for God. The tall red pine exists for God. The sparkling snow exists for God. The gray sky exists for God. You get the idea. I can’t really say where I’m going with this necessarily, but it affirmed for me the purpose of all of creation. This then, for me at least, contested the prevailing notion in some cultures, mine included, that the sole reason for other-than-human life is to serve us humans.
I then came across the author’s good news: “so that through death he [Jesus] might destroy the one who has the power of death…and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death.” Fear of physical death has a stronghold on many of our lives. I started to wonder though, what other types of death do we fear and hold us captive? Death of our theological and/or scriptural stances? Death of our viselike grip on self-serving power? Death of our consumptive way of life?
Then the Spirit blew this seed down another winding path. Reading the gospel, I was immediately flooded with images of our undocumented neighbors, many of whom are climate crisis refugees. Some of us here in the U.S. greatly fear the influx. Some are infuriated to the point of violent action. How are we reacting to news that threatens us and our lives as we are currently living them? How is our reactive fury killing innocent lives? Relationships? Faith?
As these questions churned in my mind, I moved on to the Isaiah and Psalm readings. As I tried to conjure up how the moon praises the Lord, I was brought back to a detail I had overlooked in the gospel. Often times night is associated with and used metaphorically to represent grappling, turmoil, torment, fear, secrecy, and evil. I don’t know about you, but I have always assumed that nighttime was when Herod’s unchecked rage fomented the horrific tragedy. But the text doesn’t really say. We don’t know for sure the time he was made aware of the wise men’s redirection and violation of his orders. What we do know is that it was the blanket of night that provided refuge for Joseph, Mary and infant Jesus as they fled to a foreign land where they were undocumented refugees for an unknown length of time.
Back to the psalm I go. Whatever the intention of the lectionary folks for this particular Sunday, I cannot help but be jarred by the juxtaposition of the psalmist’s effusive call to praise the Lord and the very sobering, heart-wrenching narrative from Matthew. Yes, we could focus solely on the holy family’s escape as a praiseworthy act of God, and ignore the wailing and loud lamentation over the children who are no more. However, that would be easy and convenient, and faith is, most of the time, neither. This truth transferred, for me, to one of our current realities. It is demoralizing to think about the billions of songbirds that have died or gone extinct due to climate change, habitat destruction and use of harmful chemicals. I lament this distressing truth. And yet. And yet, as I sit typing this reflection, I know there are chickadees chirping away in my front yard. Doing what they were created to do. Praising the name of the Lord who fashioned their tiny black, white, and gray bodies.
“…he himself likewise shared the same things [flesh and blood], so that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death.” The One who shares the same flesh and blood as those murdered by fear and the one whose fear erupted in slaughter daily frees you and me in water and the Word from captivity. Frees us to be transformed. Frees us to work for change. And frees us to praise, alongside the chickadees and all of creation, the Lord. Even and especially amidst the suffering.
Pastor Amanda Kossow
Cass Lake, Minnesota
My name is Amanda and I currently serve as pastor at Trinity Lutheran Church in Cass Lake, MN. There is a t-shirt from Grand Island, MI which describes me to a “T.” It states, “Into the woods I go to lose my mind and find my soul.” I am an avid animal and nature lover who hikes, kayaks, and snowshoes as often as possible. Growing up in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, I feel a strong kinship with creation, particularly trees. During my time in seminary and in both my first and now second calls, I’ve also been gaining a deeper appreciation for and learning from my bond with human neighbors whose culture differs from mine.