Psalms 146
Sometimes, it feels weird as a minister to admit that my favorite holiday is Halloween. Growing up, I looked forward to October 31 every year. In June or July, I would plan my costume — some highlights include the Big Bad Wolf in a leather jacket with handmade paws, Captain Jack Sparrow with movie-level makeup, and a scarecrow stuffed with straw set up to scare visiting trick-or-treaters.
The tradition of elaborate costumes goes together with spooky cinema, watching classics like “The Monster Squad,” “Van Helsing,” “The Fog,” “Pumpkinhead” and “The Craft.” As I partook in the annual tradition this year, I also have reflected on why Halloween still takes my top spot for holidays. Sure, dressing up in a costume and having fun with friends is always a cause for celebration. Watching movies that you like so much that you watch them time and time again is always a good time. And who doesn’t love eating their favorite candy?
Yet, on a more foundational level, I like Halloween so much because it’s a holiday that, to me, is the most inclusive day of the year, and it’s theological. On Halloween, many of us take on identities like werewolves, vampires, monsters and more — costumes that we’d rather not associate with for the rest of the year. Not only do we embrace the opportunity to present ourselves differently, but these versions of ourselves are welcomed almost everywhere we go. If we go trick-or-treating (or costume parties or trunks-or-treaters), we are shown hospitality, even as we present appearances that are usually rejected and ignored. On Halloween, you see princesses conversing with Frankenstein’s monsters, doctors talking to vampires, and angels laughing with witches. It is a night that embraces contradictions. For one day of the year, everyone seems to coexist, regardless of appearance, status or identity, and all are welcome to join in on the fun.
I see the inclusive, inviting spirit represented on Halloween in the verses of Psalm 146. It is the spirit of our Creator, who looks and listens to the people society might otherwise cast out. The psalmist sings praises to God for the ways that God cares for everyone throughout the world, writing that the Lord “gives food to the hungry” (v. 7), “sets the prisoners free” (v. 7), “lifts up those who are bowed down” (v. 8), “watches over the strangers” (v. 9), and “upholds the orphan and the widow” (v. 9). God’s actions are contrasted with earthly rulers, who abuse those in need: “Do not put your trust in princes, in mortals, in whom there is no help” (v. 3). To the psalmist, no person on earth is able to do what God is doing, as God is the Creator “who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them” (v. 6).
The God of Psalm 146 is greater than we can imagine. It is the Almighty, who created the whole wide world, who cares deeply for the oppressed and marginalized, the people we despise, ignore, and would rather not associate with. The psalmist reminds us that it is this God to whom we sing our praises, saying “Praise the Lord!” three times in Psalm 146 (v. 1, 10).
Psalm 146, like the other 149 psalms, describes vividly and beautifully God’s action in the world. As we put out the bowls of candy and welcome all the different appearances and identities that come to our doorstep each Halloween, so too does God open the doors and care for everyone in the world regardless of who they are … except God’s doors are open always, throughout time, space and place. Just as God cares deeply for the outcast and stranger, for those the world rejects and ignores, so too are we called towards caring for all of creation, without categorization, in our moving and being in the world.
Questions for discussion
- What is a memory you have of a time when you witnessed or experienced an act of “welcoming to the stranger?”
- How can you move about in the world here and now with an “open door” way of thinking and doing?
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