Feast of St. Francis of Assisi

Feast of St. Francis of Assisi: Celebrated on October 7, 2012   

      The author, Robert Louis Stevenson is said to have had an argument once with a man who thought it was ridiculous to imagine that dogs have souls.  "You think there are no dogs in heaven?” snapped Stevenson, “My dog will be there long before you’ll ever be!”

    Today we celebrate the Feast of St. Francis of Assisi by remembering our debt to all animals, and by blessing those we call our “pets.”  Francis probably wouldn’t have liked that—referring to companion animals as “pets,” because it diminishes their importance and their dignity as fellow sufferers and sojourners on this earth.   Francis referred to them all equally as “brothers” and “sisters.”  He believed Jesus meant animals as well as humans when he spoke of “the least of these,” which we should care for.

And for good reason—animals are mentioned often in scripture:  In the book of Proverbs we read, "The righteous man regards the life of his beast."  In Genesis, after the flood, no less than five times does God say, "I will make a covenant with you and with all living creatures."  When Jonah was sent to Nineveh, it was to save the human inhabitants of the city and the many animals who lived there as well.  In the book of Deuteronomy we are told, "If you see an animal that is overburdened, you should lighten its load to help it."  Notice it doesn’t say, if your animal is overburdened. Scripture says we have a sacred responsibility to help the animal, even if it doesn’t belong to us.  We are told to be advocates for the proper treatment and welfare of any animal we come across that is in need of help.   It is even said, in their own way, the animals know more than we do about life and even perhaps about God, for Job says to his friends, “Ask the birds, ask the beasts and they will teach you." 

In one book, Christian writer C.S Lewis suggests that we humans have a special responsibility to the animals we’ve tamed and domesticated.  He argues that animals might get into heaven through their relationship with humans, in the same way that humans do through their relationship with Christ. 

 In another book, Lewis points out the fact that when God made a covenant with one of his chosen, he marked it by giving that person a particular name: Abraham, Sarah, Jesus, Paul.  God told Adam to name the animals and, in so doing, Adam did as God does, and so do we when we bring an animal into our home, into our family and give it a name.  Perhaps in so doing, we enter into a covenantal relationship with the animals and God has entered into relationship with us.  Perhaps when we name animals, they become more fully themselves and our salvation spills over into them.  Or, I wonder if it’s the other way around?  When companion animals give us their hearts and trust us with their lives---and we reciprocate to keep their trust and look out for their well-being, we become more fully who God intends us to be, both more humble, more compassionate, perhaps more wise.  Or, maybe it’s both:  We, humankind and the animals, need each other to become fully who God intends us to be. 

 It is good to remember that our scriptures describe “heaven” or eternity not as some airy-fairy cloud-top, disembodied existence, but as both spiritual and physical, not unlike now. It is a new heaven and a new earth where "creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God.”

 As foretold by the prophet Isaiah, "The wolf will live with the lamb, the leopard will lie down with the goat … and a little child will lead them.”  Animals will be there. It wouldn’t heaven without them.   God honors our acts of naming and loving by bringing our animal friends, like our Duncan, and PK, Shadow, Phoebe, Sprite, Maggie and Ruari---and so many more—yours of course—name them aloud right now.  They will be there with us too.  I like to imagine what getting to heaven is going to be like, with our dogs rushing in to welcome us with little cries and jumping for joy as they did on this earth.  And when that happens to us now, we are blessed by their love and unconditional acceptance and forgiveness—which can remind us in this present life, if only a little, of what is in store for us all when we get there, to eternity together for all time.

     In closing, I’d like to share a story with you, please forgive me if you’ve heard it before.

     It was a beautiful day and a man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he had died. He remembered the whole thing, with no feelings of loss or pain, just that it had happened, and that the dog walking beside him, who he loved very much, had been dead for many years.  He wondered where the road was leading them and curious, he kept on walking.   After a while, they came to a high, stone wall along one side of the road, which looked like fine marble.  At the top of a hill, the wall was broken by a tall arch that seemed to glow in the warm sunlight. As got closer, he could see a gate in the arch that looked as if it was made of mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold.

      The traveler and his dog walked toward the gate.  As he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out, “Excuse me, but, where are we?'” “This is Heaven, sir,” said the man at the gate. “Wow!” the other man said. Then, “Would you happen to have some water—we’ve walked a long way and are thirsty.”

       “Absolutely.  Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought up.”  The gatekeeper waved his hand over a big lock, and the gate began to swing open. “Do you mind if my friend,” the traveler said, gesturing toward his dog, “came in, too?”

        “Oh, no, I'm sorry sir, but we don't accept pets.”

        The man considered this for a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued on the way he had been going with his dog.  After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road leading through a sagging farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed. And strangely enough, there was no fence.

         As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree, reading a book. “Excuse me!” he called to the man. 'Do you have any water?'

        “Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in.”  “How about my friend here?” the traveler gestured to the dog.  “There should be a bowl by the pump,” said the man.

They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.  The traveler filled the water bowl and took a long drink himself, and then he filled it water again and gave it to the dog.  When they’d had enough, he and the dog walked back toward the man with the book, who was standing by the tree.

         “What do you call this place?” the traveler asked. “Heaven,” said the man with the book. “Well, that's confusing,” said the traveler.  “The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.”  “You mean the place with the golden street and pearly gates? Nope. That's hell.”  The traveler was puzzled.  “Doesn't it bother you that they use your name like that?'” “Not at all,” came the reply.  “We're just happy to let them screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.

Amen.