Every year, once a year, the residents of
upper Manhattan
witness
something rare and wonderful: a blocks-long, unlikely procession of
animals. A
camel, rare birds, snakes, monkeys, dogs and cats – lots
of dogs and cats – weasels and donkeys, cows and an
elephant, and many, many more wonderful representatives of God’s
creatures.
No, they have not escaped from the Bronx Zoo.
No, Noah’s Ark
is not re-boarding.
It is the annual Parade and Blessing of the Animals held at St. John the Divine, Manhattan’s
Episcopal Cathedral. Annually, 4,000 people and as many creatures, line
up for
blocks and blocks, waiting to participate. This is the largest such
Christian
ceremony on earth.
St.
John
the Divine holds this annual event in honor of Francis of Assisi, the 12th
century saint who renounced his wealth and lived in simple poverty.
Francis
preached that every creature was his equal – both human and animal.
The highlight of the Blessing of the Animals
at St. John the
Divine is the long procession when, one by one, humans and creatures –
large and
small, furry and hairy, cloven-hoofed and pawed – march through the
bronze
doors of the Cathedral, into the grand Gothic nave and up the center
aisle.
There, each creature is blessed by the bishop.
While
many believe the blessing of the animals began with Francis of Assisi,
it turns
out that the origin of animal blessings has as many parents as a
centipede has
feet. For instance, every year in downtown Los
Angeles,
residents bring their animals to the church for a blessing, in honor,
not of
Francis of Assisi, but of Antony
of the Desert. Antony
of the Desert was a third century hermit who, it is said, lived among
and
blessed the wild beasts.
The annual celebration in Los
Angeles
begins as brightly adorned animals and their human companions assemble
in the
historic Olvera
Street Plaza
on a Saturday in April. At 2:00 p.m., the procession of the animals
begins. At
the very head of the procession is a cow, decorated with flowers. She
has pride
of place, the honor of going first because according to tradition, she
is the
animal who gives most to humanity. Behind the cow are the merchants of Olvera Street,
and
behind them, a colorful and diverse array of animals and humans. The
procession
winds its way up the street and past the platform where the Cardinal
blesses
each animal as it goes by.
In earlier days, farm animals were brought to
receive a
fertility blessing. These days a somewhat different assemblage of
creatures
graces Olvera Street: a lively assortment including cows, cats, dogs,
snakes,
pigs, sheep, goats, donkeys, horses, opossums, hamsters, birds,
monkeys,
llamas, camels, chickens and peacocks.
Yesterday, here at Old South, we held our
first blessing of
the animals. Old South members, whose lives are lived in the company of
beloved
pets, told us they were touched, delighted, and moved that the church
had
decided to acknowledge this important part of their lives. And so it
was that
people volunteered to usher, to sing, to take pictures and to assist
with music
and publicity. After all, those who have pets will tell you that what
they
experience from their pets in the way of unconditional love, of
companionship
and relationship, is as dear and as life-giving to them as anything
else. As
one Old South members said to me in introducing his dog: this is my
family.
Yesterday, Old South was host to a wagging,
squirming,
wriggling, fluttering array of beloved creatures. The Gordon Chapel was
filled.
As far as we know, the last time so many of God’s creatures entered an
Old
South sanctuary was in 1775. It was in that year that British troupes,
angry at
us over a certain Tea Party, took over the Old South Meetinghouse. They
tore
out the pews, and turned the sanctuary into an exercise ring for Calvary horses.
By contrast, yesterday’s affair was gracious
and respectful.
Old South had sent out invitations. Yesterday, our guests arrived:
two-legged
and four legged, hoofed and pawed, big and little, feathered, furry,
hairy,
scalely and smooth-skinned. They were a grand assortment of dogs and
cats – of
every size, color, temperament and pedigree – but also a turtle,
rabbit,
parrot, and two enormous, patient, well-mannered horses from the Boston
Police
Department.
They came to this Christian church to receive
a blessing.
We, in our turn, were blessed: blessed by the joy we saw in so many
faces;
blessed by the relationships we witnessed; blessed by the privilege of
having
met additional members of your families. Blessed, too, that our
sanctuary gave
welcome to human neighbors in Boston
who might not have entered a church for any other purpose.
Whether in New York or Los Angles or Boston,
whether in
Episcopal, Catholic, or UCC churches, whether in honor of Francis of
Assisi or
of Antony of the Desert, or no one in particular, the Blessing of the
Animals
is intended to convey that God’s care extends beyond the human family;
indeed,
God’s care extends to the whole family of creation. In the eyes of God,
all
creation is good and sacred.
The Bible is full of stories of animals and
the natural
world. Biblical authors proclaim that
in the beauty and diversity and complexity of the natural world, we see
the
hand of the Creator.
The
Bible includes
our animal cousins in the blessings of the covenant we share with God.
In the Book of Genesis God says, “I will make a covenant with you and
with all
living creatures.” Jesus, in his turn, commands his disciples to, “Go
in to the
whole world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature."
The
creatures with
whom we share the earth and the skies and the seas, also share in the
fortunes
of human existence and have part in human life. Their fortunes are
affected by
pollution and oil spills, gill nets and clear-cutting, population
growth and
pesticides, war and famine, fire and earthquake, and by our human
appetite for
meat and furs.
Last December, the San Francisco
Chronicle ran a front-page story about a female
humpback
whale. The whale had become entangled in a web of crab traps and lines.
The fifty-foot whale was weighted down by
hundreds
of pounds of traps. Hundreds of yards of line-rope were wrapped around
her tail
and torso. She was struggling mightily to stay afloat.
A fisherman spotted the whale just east
of the Farollone Islands,
outside the Golden Gate. The
fisherman radioed
an environmental group for help. Within a few hours, a rescue team
arrived.
They quickly determined that the whale was in such bad shape, that the
only way
to save her was to dive into the water and untangle her themselves,
then and
there, with their own hands. This was a very dangerous proposition. One
slap of
her tail could easily kill a diver.
The divers worked for hours. Using curved
knives,
they worked to free her, one line at a time. Once she was free, she
swam in
what the divers described as joyous circles. And then, she turned her
attention
to the divers. She swam up to each one of them and, one by one, she
nudged them
gently. In the words of the divers, she thanked them.
In the blessing of the animals, we
acknowledge our
essential kinship with the grand assortment of creatures with whom we
share
God’s good earth.
In the blessing of the animals, we
acknowledge, bless and
confess the myriad and complex relationships between humankind and
animal kind:
whether the relationship is that of pet to a guardian, or that between
a
sight-impaired person and their seeing-eye dog, or that between a
rancher and a
herd of cattle, or a fisherman and the creatures of the sea, or the
relationship between a wildlife specialist and a pride of lions.
In blessing the animals we praise the
Creator for
the gift of creatures who supply our food, who carry our burdens, who
share our
fortunes, who provide us with clothing, who give us
companionship, who have tendered a
service to humankind since the world began and who, in the words of
Francis of
Assisi, are, indeed, our brothers and sisters.
Yesterday we welcomed and blessed them.
In our turn,
we were richly blessed.
