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Talk to the Animals?  Or maybe we should just listen

The Reverend Canon Elizabeth C. Knowlton
October 7, 2007
Feast of St. Francis (transferred)
Matthew 11:25-30
Cathedral of St. Philip:  8:45 a.m.

“If we could talk to the animals, learn their languages
Think of all the things we could discuss
If we could walk with the animals, talk with the animals,
Grunt and squeak and squawk with the animals,
And they could squeak and squawk and speak and talk to us.”
From the musical Dr. Doolittle    

I have to admit, I have had this song stuck in my head all week long.  
It has almost become a petition…If only I could talk to the animals…

But as much as I have wondered if this sermon would be heard, by you or our invited guests, I haven't lost too much sleep over it.  Because I have to admit how much I enjoy this Sunday.  Last year I was able to greet many of you as you arrived at church.  It was delightful to see people coming out of their cars dragging in some cases, and being dragged in others, towards the portico with their pets in tow.

I wondered whether it was just that I am a natural sucker for animals.  While that is certainly true, it isn’t the main reason I left church that day feeling so elated.  I think it was the joy that came from seeing a broader picture of each family that came through the doors that day.  Whether it was a dog, a cat, a bird, a lizard, a bunny, or even a snake, each family was transformed by the addition. Pets are not mere appendages to our family units, but usually reside deep at the heart center.

About a month and a half ago, I got the call I had dreaded for quite awhile.  We were in Michigan visiting my parents and our pet sitter called to let us know that Keisha, our beloved sixteen year old Australian Shepherd was not doing well.  We found ourselves in the car on our way back home, several days earlier than expected.  The interesting thing about it was there wasn’t really a question about whether we were going to come back right away.  We just packed up and went.  We worried as we drove that we wouldn’t make it back in time.

Luckily we did and we were able to say goodbye to her and be with her as she died.  Thought not unexpected, it was a harder moment for me that I could have even imagined.  I felt stretched in several directions all at once.  I grieved as wife, mother, and pet owner all at once.  Three roles that I had assumed during my years with Keisha.  But as hard as it was, it also felt holy.  I was filled with gratitude that we were able to see her and thank her for all she had done for us and our family. 

Keisha’s place at the center of our household has only been affirmed in the wrenching hole her absence has created.  While we still have two other dogs, they in no way replace her sweet presence.  She greeted me at the door every day when I came home for the past fourteen years.  She unexpectedly ate the first set of cream puffs I made for Ron when we were dating.  She seemed to have a sixth sense about when I was pregnant, and always protectively guarded the children from the time they were born.

Now, the danger with this type of reflection is the risk of becoming overly sentimental.  We might slip into idolatry and make this celebration today disconnected from God and the creation. We might take the powerful symbol of the love we have for our pets, reduced to the pictures we’ll snap after the service.

That would be the biggest disservice we can do to St. Francis whom we celebrate today.  He is not meant to be a late 12th century version of Dr. Doolittle.  Despite the fact that almost every picture you see of him contains birds or animals, that is not the heart of his message. 
He was someone who was able to embrace poverty in a profound way and still be joyful.  There was a way in which he knew deep in his bones the unconditional love of God. It was that knowledge that informed every fiber of his being.  It was that grounding that allowed him to clear away all of the trappings of the world and see the simple, stark, and overwhelming beauty of all of God’s creation.

It is that gift, his knowledge of the unconditional love of God that our pets often symbolize.  I have to believe that is really why we get so excited about the prospect of bringing them here to church every year.  We know they are holy symbols and we love the chance to really embrace that by having them blessed.

Our pets are able to communicate unconditional love in a way few other relationships can even approach.  Unconditional love is something we talk a lot about, but if we think about it, we rarely experience it.  Even in our closest relationships, we are caught short by our inability to be perfectly patient and loving with one another.  God can feel too distant at times to really trust that promise of unconditional love.  Somehow our dear pets bridge that gap.  They are profound symbols of that which might seem most intangible.  They greet us with joy whether we’ve left for a long journey, or just stepped outside to get the mail.

But they also demand of us our faithfulness.  We need to care for them so they can survive.  They count on us to treat them well and to ensure their needs are met.  And I can’t think that is too different than the relationship God hopes to have with each of us.  I think God is thrilled to see us if we pray every five minutes, or when we’ve returned from a long hiatus.  The joy is the same, but our faithfulness in tending that relationship, caring for the creation entrusted to us, is the real way in which we respond to that unconditional love. 

We are promised that rather than being some tiresome duty, it will actually be a journey and relationship that allows us to unburden ourselves.  As we meet the face of God’s joy in us, we do experience an easy yoke that teaches us gently and yields God’s peace.  So, we don't really need to talk to the animals, they are already speaking to us.

Amen

Comments? Contact Beth Knowlton at: BKnowlton@stphilipscathedral.org

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