Today those of us in the United States celebrate the feast day of St. Kateri Tekakwitha, who was the first Native American to be declared a saint and is the patroness of the environment and ecology (in Canada, her feast day is celebrated on April 17th). Since this year is marked by the celebration of the anniversaries of Laudato Si’ (10 years) and Gaudium et Spes (60 years), which form the basis for Catholic social teaching on the environment, it is fitting that we reflect on our relationship with nature on this day.
The world that God has given us is truly a blessing to be cherished. When stewarded appropriately, it has the capacity to provide food, shelter, and enjoyment for all of humanity. Yet, beyond meeting our basic needs, it offers a universal glimpse of our Creator. Romans 1:20 tells us:
Ever since the creation of the world His eternal power and divine nature, invisible though they are, have been understood and seen through the things He has made.
Saint Josephine Bakhita said that it was this revelation of God in His natural creation that led her to believe that there must be a God:
“Seeing the sun, the moon and the stars, I said to myself: Who could be the Master of these beautiful things? And I felt a great desire to see Him, to know Him and to pay Him homage.”
Given Saint Kateri’s childhood among the Mohawk people and her habit of retreating to the forest to pray in her later years, it is reasonable to assume that she also sensed the work of a divine being in the world around her from an early age.
Today, many of us are removed from an intimate relationship with the natural gifts that God has given us. Technology allows us to control many of the ways that nature has historically ordered human life: night and day, summer and winter. For many, daily weather forecasts are 65 degrees Fahrenheit and fluorescent lights year-round. The availability of plentiful food that shows up on clean grocery store shelves separates us from the astounding ways in which God provides for our nourishment. The ease with which we obtain water, electricity and material goods makes it difficult to comprehend the preciousness of the many resources we consume throughout the day. Consequently, the only time we become aware of the natural world is often when something disruptive or tragic happens that is outside our control: a blizzard, epidemic, famine, flood, or wildfire. This skews our understanding of nature and, perhaps, of the God who created it. Rather than being a wonderful gift from a good Giver, our world becomes something unpredictable and dangerous and the one who gave it to us is often seen similarly.
While Indigenous people groups certainly knew the potentially devastating power of nature, they often had a much better understanding of it as beloved. In Hawaii, Kanaka Maoli (native Hawaiians) embrace the concept of “Aloha ʻĀina,” which is often translated as a love of the land. However, according to Detours: A Decolonial Guide to Hawaii, this translation fails to convey a deep sense of connection to the land and an understanding of the bidirectional relationship of care that exists between the people and the land. Bound up within this idea is a sense of sacredness that is absent from scientific and logic-based Western ideas. The gifts of the earth are intricately bound to the giver. Obviously, as Christians, our understanding this giver differs from traditional Hawaiian beliefs, but this sense of the sacredness of the gift of nature rings true for us, as well.
My family recently had the opportunity to visit the site of St. Kateri’s village in Fonda, New York, where I began to understand how the young saint would have grown up with something similar to the Hawaiian concept of Aloha ʻĀina, albeit without knowledge of the term itself. Her village lies in the Mohawk River Valley, a stretch of land that remains lush and tranquil even today. It sits on top of a hill, protected from flooding, and is just a short walk from a natural spring that provided the people with easy access to fresh water. The village itself was built from local materials and protected by a tall wall. Everything about the village – from its location to the clean spring water – directly impacted St. Kateri’s early life in a beneficent way. Her food, her shelter, her clothes, her water all came directly from the natural world and were accepted as gifts. It is easy to see how these blessings would have led her to embrace the French missionaries’ stories of a merciful creator. I imagine that, when she was introduced to God, she thought something like, “So that’s who You are!” or “It was You all along!” Certainly, her love for nature was bound up in her love for God because she saw the gifts of the natural world as flowing from the hands of the Creator.
“O Lord, your works praise you so that we may love you, and we love you so that your works may praise you.” Psalm 145:10
On July 9th of this year, Pope Leo XIV celebrated the first Mass for the Care of Creation which is a new formulary that can be chosen for special occasions from the Roman Missal. The new Pope, who has embraced Pope Francis’s advocacy for creation on more than one occasion, used this opportunity to highlight our Christian obligation in the face of the violence that is being inflicted on creation:
“We hear the cry of the earth and of the poor, for that cry has reached the heart of God. Our indignation is His indignation; our work is His work.”
He also made it clear that, to heal creation, our relationship with it needs to change. This can be done only with “a contemplative gaze,” a deep and attentive focus on Jesus that guides us into deeper relationship with Him and, consequently, with all of creation. Our love for the Giver amplifies our love for His gifts.
There is much that troubles us in the natural world today, but in his sermon, Pope Leo XIV reminded us that Jesus, who calmed the raging sea, has power over creation: we need not despair. But we need to act. We need to devote ourselves to contemplating God as He reveals Himself to us in the natural world so that we can develop a deep love that motivates us to respond with love and care. We need to wrestle with the responsibility that God entrusted to us when He made us stewards of his creation and discern the ways that He has uniquely gifted each of us to do this work. And, as Pope Leo XIV implored, we need to “pray for the conversion of many people, both inside and outside the Church, who still do not recognize the urgency of caring for our common home.” St. Kateri Tekakwitha and the deep respect and cherishing that many Indigenous people have for nature offer us a place to start.
Image: Ariane Sroubek
Ariane Sroubek is a writer, school psychologist and mother to two children here on earth. Prior to converting to Catholicism, she completed undergraduate studies in Bible and Theology at Gordon College in Wenham, MA. She then went on to obtain her doctorate in School and Child Clinical Psychology. Ariane’s writing is inspired by her faith, daily life experiences and education. She is currently writing a women's fiction novel and a middle-grade mystery series. Her non-fiction book, Raising Sunshine: A Guide to Parenting Through the Aftermath of Infant Death is available on Amazon. More of her work can be found at https://mysustaininggrace.com.
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