Mass for the “Care of Creation” (2026)
Several years ago, when I was still a young religious, I was part of a retreat group that was being hosted by the Ursuline Sisters of Mount Saint Joseph in Maple Mount, Kentucky.
Now, I am not someone who would ever claim to have had the gift of any sort of mystical experience. But if there is a moment that I would identify as a special moment of grace, it happened during that retreat.
One evening after supper, I was walking around the grounds and found myself walking through the sisters' cemetery. The cemetery was built on a bluff overlooking a valley, and the rolling hills of central Kentucky unfolded in the distance. The sun was setting, and there was that special golden-hour light.
As I looked out over the horizon, I had an overwhelming sense of being connected to everything that I was seeing. And within that sense of connection, I was also aware of the presence of God.
The view, the hills, the light, the lush forest unfolding before me—all of it seemed to speak of the presence of the Creator.
I think that experience helped me understand something that the Book of Wisdom expresses beautifully: “For from the greatness and the beauty of created things their original author, by analogy, is seen.”
Creation can be a window into God.
We look at the beauty and complexity of the world around us, and it can awaken something within us. The grandeur of a mountain, the movement of water, the changing seasons, the delicacy of a flower, the night sky filled with stars—all of these can point beyond themselves to the One who brought them into being.
And while we know that creation is not God, we do understand that creation bears witness to God. And that is important for us to remember because we can sometimes think about creation only in terms of what we are doing to it.
We rightly speak about the climate crisis. We see the effects of a changing climate, the loss of habitats and species, pollution, droughts, rising temperatures, and the devastating consequences that these realities have for people—especially those who are most vulnerable. This is why Pope Francis could say, so forcefully, in Laudato Si’: “The gravest effects of all attacks on the environment are suffered by the poorest.”
These concerns deserve our attention and our action. At the same time, our Christian understanding of creation has to be larger than the crisis.
We care for creation not simply because we are trying to repair something we have damaged. We care for creation because creation is a gift.
Creation is of God and it continues to speak to us about God. That is why today's Gospel is such an interesting companion to the reading from Wisdom.
The disciples are caught in a storm. The boat is being tossed about by the waves, while Jesus is asleep. They wake him in fear, and Jesus gets up and rebukes the winds and the sea.
And Matthew tells us that there is a great calm.
The disciples were astonished: “What sort of man is this, whom even the winds and the sea obey?”
That question is at the heart of today's Gospel. They aren't simply amazed that Jesus can calm a storm. The wind and the sea themselves become witnesses to who Jesus is.
In the Book of Wisdom, creation points us toward its Creator. In the Gospel, creation points us toward Christ. The God whose wisdom and power are revealed in creation is now present among us in the person of Jesus.
The God who creates is the God who saves.
The God who speaks creation into being is present in the person of Jesus, standing in the midst of the storm.
This is important.
The natural world is not simply a collection of resources for us to use. It is not merely the backdrop against which human history takes place. Creation has its own integrity, its own beauty, its own capacity to draw our attention beyond ourselves.
It can teach us.
It can humble us.
It can remind us that we are part of something much larger than ourselves.
And it can lead us toward God.
That is why the care of creation is ultimately a spiritual matter.
To care for creation is to recognize that we are not its owners. We are its stewards. We have received something we did not create and that we cannot replace.
And so, we should ask:
How do we receive this gift?
How do we care for it?
And what do we leave for those who come after us?
Your Congregation, the School Sisters of St. Francis have long reminded us that witnessing to the truth of the Gospel, the pursuit of justice and equity, and the care for our common home cannot be separated from one another. They are expressions of the same conviction that the world we have received is God's gift, and that we are responsible for how that gift is shared and handed on.
And yet, even here, I think we need to begin with wonder.
Before creation is something we are called to protect, it is something we are invited to receive.
Before it is a problem to be solved, it is a gift to be treasured.
Before we ask what we must do differently, we might simply stop long enough to look—to listen—to notice.
Maybe that means paying attention to the changing of the seasons. Maybe it means walking through a forest, watching a sunrise, listening to the rain, or standing beside a lake. Maybe it means allowing ourselves, even for a moment, to be amazed that we are part of this extraordinary world that is not of our creation and which we cannot fully comprehend.
And when we do that, we might discover what the author of Wisdom understood: that creation can draw us beyond itself.
It can open our eyes to the One who created it.
As I look back, I understand that that is what happened to me years ago in that cemetery in Kentucky. I wasn't looking for a religious experience. I was simply looking at the hills as the sun was going down. And for a moment, I saw those hills differently. I felt connected to what was around me, and in that connection I became aware of God.
That is one of the gifts creation offers us: it reminds us that we are not alone, that we are not the center of everything, and that the world around us is more than something to be consumed.
It is a gift.
It is a witness.
And if we open ourselves to it, it can lead us to God—“For the earth is full of the goodness of the Lord.”
Homily prepared for the September 20 “Mass for the Care of Creation”
celebrated with the School Sisters of St. Francis, Milwaukee, Wisconsin
