Blessing Our Companion Animals. Who is Blessed? (in honor of the blessing of Animals on the Feast of St. Franics of Assisi.

 

St. Francis of Assisi is not only honored by Catholics but also by Christians of many denominations as well as many non-Christians. We honor him and we remember animal life. The great historian Arnold Toynbee called Francis “the greatest of all men who ever lived in the West.” He goes on, “The example given by St. Francis is what we Westerners ought to be imitated with all our heart, for he is the only Westerner who can save the earth.” I believe that there is a lot of truth in Toynbee’s last claim. St. Francis inspires many folks who care deeply about the environment and love their companion animals.

Today we remember the great saint of ecology and model of living with nature and God’s creatures as siblings. I like the description made by some environmentalist who use “human and non-human animals.” It stresses that we human are animal as well and removes the attitude that humanity is above animals, The two Genesis creation accounts make the point we human are siblings to other life. On the sixth day, human and non-human animals were created. Or in Genesis 2, God forms adamah, the earth creature, and animals from the stuff of earth. St. Francis stressed human and other life were siblings.

We bless our companion animals, recognizing how our family members are blessings for us and are part of our household. Our companion animals are not poster children for environmental concerns, but they begin the process of helping how important are animals to the Earth community. All have intrinsic value to God the Creator.

There is no question that Francis never fit into his time; he was considered crazy, perhaps better described as a “holy fool,” during his lifetime. He did not fit in the early 13th century. I am sure that Francis would not fit well in our time as well. But he certainly presents a model for all of us to consider.

I want to focus on Francis of Assisi and his kinship relationship with other life, for this is why we bless our companions today. Blessing honors our relationships within our household companions and blesses our households. In my blessing, I pray for the companions who live together and mutually relate.
Francis’ Canticle of Creatures was written in the final year of his life. One

Franciscan writer Ilia Delia affirms,

(the Canticle) is the way the universe looks after ego has disappeared. It is a vision of the whole that sees the self as part of the whole in the unity of love. The way to this vision for Francis was compassion. His life was an ever-widening space in union with the divine, a space between God and Francis that included the leper, the sick brother, the sun, moon, and the stars. …He felt the tender love of God shining through creation.

When he saw the weakness of another creature, whether it was a human or non-human, he saw Christ’s passion re-enacted and saw Christ in the suffering. To be compassionate is to be related to others and view ourselves as a mirror of the others and Christ.

But what about non-human animals show compassion? The non-human animal does not itself reflected on the other; but non-human animals intuit that a human or non-human animal is in need and is kin, part of the pack. I want to share a wonderful story why it is important to develop a kinship relationship with our companion animals.

I ask the pardon to cat folks, but I am a dog person and will focus on dog stories. But I welcome you sending me or sharing with me your cat stories. So next time I can balance off today’s sermon.

The first story is the called the “Dogs of Egypt:” I took this story from Dr. Ken Stone, a Hebrew Bible scholar in an article in Divanimality. . He tells the following story.

Emmanuel Levinas, the Jewish French philosopher, was drafted into the French Army to fight against the Germans during World War II. His unit was captured by the Germans, and he spent confinement in a military prison camp and assigned to the Jewish barracks. Levinas narrates a story of his time in the prison about a dog named “Bobby.”

One day he came to meet this rabble as we returned under guard from work….We called him Bobby, an exotic name, as one does with a cherished dog. He would appear at morning assembly and was waiting for us as we returned, jumping up and down and barking in delight. For him there was no doubt that we were men.

The philosopher makes a clear distinction between Bobby the dog and the Nazi guards in the concentration camp. The Nazi guards treated their Jewish prisoners as animals. They dehumanized them. Levinas observes, “We were subhuman, a gang of apes.”

Bobby recognized these prisoners as human, part of the pack, and greeted them with joy and unconditional love as dogs are wont to do when you leave and return. Again Levinas points out, “For him (Bobby) there was no doubt that we were men.” He reminisces,

He (Bobby) was a descendant of the dogs of Egypt. And his friendly growling, his animal faith, was born of his forefathers on the banks of the Nile.
Levinas reminisces that Bobby was like the dogs of Egypt in Exodus, where Moses speaks about the last plague, the death of the first born, that the dogs do not bark. They silently recognized the humanity of the Hebrew slaves in Exodus.

Biblical scholar Ken Stone observes,

By holding their tongues, the dogs mark the liberation of Israelite slaves. And here, Levinas observes we see what it means to say that the dogs are friends of humanity, for…. “the dog will attest to dignity of its person.”

Levinas speaks of “animal faith” and “friendly growling” of Bobby. Bobby recognizes the humanity of the prisoners. Levinas associates dogs in the scriptures with human freedom and the dog Bobby with humanity. That is a wonderful story of how dogs humanize us.

St. Francis knew that loving animals provide human animals with an expansion of relationships. “Animals” then and often now are perceived less than humanity. In history of Christianity, most Christians have viewed dogs and animals as inferior to humanity and having no soul.

Humans are thoroughly relational, and we realize that we are human through other human beings and companion or non-human animals. I have had five dogs in my life since 1978, and I have been with four of them as they were euthanized, several weeks with Joe and his dog Harley. It was emotionally hard to lose a household companion, Harley. I cling to a statement of Pope Francis to a young boy whose dog died: “One day we will see our animals again in the eternity of Christ. Paradise is open to all God’s creatures.” Pope Francis’ words, I believe, speak to a truth that St. Francis could have easily uttered, and I have always believed since my first sacred event of saying good bye to a good friend.

I have heard folks say that they would never have another dog after they experienced the death of dog and the pain of grief and loss. But despite the grief of loss, an non-human animal theologian Stephen Webb claims:

Like forgiveness, animals are a gift; they come to us with their own beauty and dignity, and they plead for patience and understanding. In turn, they give us more than we could otherwise have known about ourselves by allowing us to venture into a relationship that goes further, due to its very awkwardness and limitations, than the boundaries of human language normally permits, “The fact that animals are so generous in answering us is what makes it okay to train them but a human duty one way we enact our gratitude to the universe that animals exist.” (Webb)

I want to add the training is mutual. My dog Friskie trains me as I train him. There is a reciprocal giving and sharing. He responds to people speaking to hm. He communicates with myself by gazing into my eyes, or sitting not to me, jumping in my lap grabbing my hand to herd me, communicating “let’s go to church” or later “let’s go to the dog park.”

Companion animals bring joy but expect a return, care, attention, and love. They show us love and will extend that love to others. One day I was in the church social hall talking to a couple, one of which was disfigured from cancer, and he had a hard time speaking. Friskie immediately jumped into his lap and started to lick his face and gave him unconditional love. His canine intuition was correct about the need for love in this situation. I know that many dogs as they get to know you they love you naturally and unconditionally. When I think of how dogs have been introduced into nursing homes for the chronically ill, they have a therapeutic presence by being themselves. The introduction of dogs has produced remarkable successes in alleviating loneliness and help healing. One program that promotes and use dog therapy writes:

Therapy Dog volunteers and their dogs have contributed significantly over the years in bringing warmth and joy to residents of nursing homes. Residents learn, in the company of dogs, to overcome loneliness and fear. The residents are delightfully entertained by the dog’s tricks and antics and warmed beyond words by their unconditional love and acceptance.

They connect physically with touch and emotionally with the residences of nursing homes, and they provide touch so vital to all of us as human beings.
Stephen Webb makes the insight:

The interconnections among God, humans, and dogs are rich. Both God and dogs love unconditionally, both God and humans are masters in their own realms, and both dogs and humans are creatures and servants. Humans are in between, both masters and servants, loved by God and dogs alike.

Dogs are remarkable companions if we take the time to listen and learn from our dogs, and they will communicate with us in many different ways if we engage them.

Both relationships– God to us and dogs to us—are places we experience unconditional love. When we come back to either, there is a joyful hospitality of welcoming.

Finally, there is a Native American legend that when you die, you cross a bridge into heaven. At the head of the bridge, the soul of the human meets every non-human animal that they have met during their lifetime. The non-human animals, based on what they experience of this person, decide who may cross the bridge and who will be turned away. Companion or non-human animals have an uncanny ability to judge character.

In her book, Certain Poor Shepherds, Elizabeth Marshall Thomas tells the story of a goat and dog who are companions on a journey to Bethlehem on the first Christmas day. They are searching for an animal redeemer, not human. Thomas writes, “No redeemer appeared for the animals; however none was needed. The animals were much the same as they are now, just as God had made them, perfect to God’s plan.”

That is why we not only bless our companion animals but they bless us. We could not be fully human without them. And that is why take the time to remember St. Francis who reminds us that animals our siblings.

Let us pray: I want to share a prayer sent to me from Kathleen:

O God, you are a playful puppy; I’ll never be lonely. You knock me over in your desire to have fun. You return eagerly no matter how I behave. You calm my spirit. You remind me to keep things in perspective because the only thing that matters to you is love. Even though life can threaten to crash in on me I will not be overcome; your bark and soft fur soothe me . You bring me to the park to play in the middle of the work week. You lick my face and my hands. We never get tired . Together we’ll keep playing as long as we live. And the sun will shine always. (Erik Walker Wikstrom)