Faith Matters 11: Our Blessed Animals
For The Gardner News, October 7, 2006
This Sunday after worship, members and friends of our church in Baldwinville will be gathering on the church lawn to bless the animals that we share our lives with: cats and dogs, a bird or fish or two, and perhaps an unusual four or even no-footed creature that someone in our community treasures as a part of their “family.” Some will bring the animal themselves, while others will bring photographs or objects that are special to their animal friend. Sophie, our Welsh springer, will be in the mix, no doubt pulling on her leash, sniffing and greeting the assembled crowd. The occasion is the annual celebration of the life and ministry of Saint Francis of Assisi. Francis was not only a great lover of birds and animals, but he spoke of them and addressed them as our brothers and our sisters, sharing with us the same Father and Creator, linked with us in the bond of family. On or near October 4th, Francis’ feast day, we and many other churches bless the animal members of our families and celebrate the special ways they bless our lives.
I admit that when I first heard that some churches blessed pets and others animals I was taken aback. As much as I loved animals, this practice didn’t make sense in my own narrow understanding of what should and shouldn’t happen in church. Did people really think that saying a prayer over an animal was going to make any difference to the animal? It seemed a strange custom! Years later though, I have come to appreciate the richness of taking time to bless those animal friends who are an extension of our families.
In Marilynne Robinson’s Pulitzer Prize winning novel Gilead, the central character, a minister, speaks of blessings this way: “There is a reality in blessing … It doesn't enhance sacredness, but it acknowledges it, and there is a power in that. I have felt it pass through me, so to speak. The sensation is of really knowing a creature, I mean really feeling its mysterious life and your own mysterious life at the same time". In the act of blessing we hold up, if just for that one special moment, the sacredness of someone or something--a life, a relationship, or even sometimes an inanimate object, like a boat, a house, a city, or a country. Through the act of blessing our animals, we acknowledge what is sacred about this particular animal and our relationship with it. And in this moment we prayerfully hold up that sacredness for us and those around us to see and honor; we pray for the well being of this animal and for our relationship with it.
Blessing Sophie is not likely to change her. She will still be the same dog, with her tail-wagging enthusiasm, her scampering, wiggling, welcome when I walk through the door after ten minutes or five hours away, or, even her incorrigible habits of stealing butter off the kitchen counter when my back is turned, or exploring untended trash. Blessing her with a prayer and sprinkling her with water won’t change any of that. But for a brief moment we will celebrate her as one of God’s own creatures and honor the sacred relationship she has with our family, our church (where she hold court at coffee hour) and her “ministry” of visitation to some of our church’s shut-ins. More than likely, it won’t deter her from her life of crime, but it will change me. I will treasure in my heart the words of blessing spoken over her during this ceremony, a reminder of the sacredness of this life linked to ours. And each time I see her rushing to welcome me at the door, I will hopefully remember this, at least until I find out that she has been foraging in the trash again!