Blessing the Animals

Blessing the Animals
20 Pentecost; October 6, 2024
Job 1:1; 2:1-10; Psalm 26; Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12; Mark 10:2-16

There is much to be said about the readings we just heard. But today is also the commemoration of Saint Francis, the end of Creation Season, and the blessing of animals. So, with mixed feelings, I am going to ignore the readings and focus on what I see as the meaning behind our blessing animals.

When people think of Saint Francis, a few things usually come to mind. First, are statues or other garden images. We have a small Francis banner here at Saint David’s by our entrance door. I have a Francis statue in my garden at home.

The second thing people usually associate with Saint Francis is birds. Images of Francis almost always include birds. Our banner does. The garden statue we have at home is a bird bath. I have a little statue of Saint Franics in my office with a bird on his shoulder. The Saint Francis window at the back of the Church features birds.

The original reason for the association between Saint Francis and birds is the famous story about Francis preaching a sermon to birds. According to legend, the birds listened attentively, and only flew away after Francis dismissed them.

Starting with birds, we have come to associate Francis with animals more generally. The statue of Francis in my home office has, in addition to a bird, a strange looking animal at Francis’ feet. It looks like a cat to me, but I think it’s supposed to be a wolf.

And because of the association of Francis and animals, many Churches, including us, bless the animals in our lives in honor of Saint Francis’ day.

As a Third Order Franciscan, I am glad that people appreciate Saint Francis. But I worry that people don’t take Francis seriously enough, as if Francis were no more than a goofy tree-hugger, floating through life and talking to animals.

Saint Francis is a LOT more than the simplistic images of him in popular culture. Tracing Francis’ development to the point that he did things like preach to birds helps to make that clear.

As a young man, Francis seemed to have it all. He came from a family of prosperous merchants. But Francis dreamed of being a knight, and his father was willing to fund that dream, outfitting Francis with a horse and armor at considerable expense. When his hometown went to war with the next town over, Francis rode off to what he assumed would be glory.

But things went poorly for Francis. Francis was captured and spent months in a dungeon, compromising his health and spirits. When Francis finally made it back home, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Eventually he tried again to be a knight, at additional expense to his father, but turned back almost immediately, a very public, two-time failure.

After a period of soul-searching, Francis began to feel a religious vocation. Christ appeared to him in a dream, telling him to rebuild Christ’s Church. Francis got right to work on the derelict Church building where he had the vision.

But that didn’t go well either. People in his hometown thought Francis was crazy. At one point, Francis’ father imprisoned him, literally chaining him in their basement. With help from his mother, Francis escaped, but had to go into hiding from his own father.

Francis was no simple dreamer. Francis knew failure and shame.

One of my mentors described what happened next this way. Francis retreated into a cave with the words of others echoing in his ears: “You are a fool and a failure!”

And in that cave, miraculously, Francis found life. Francis realized everyone was right. He was a fool. So, he would be a fool for God.

Francis had more growing to do. But the seeds of Francis’ greatness, of his sainthood, came in that dark period. Three things happened to him there.

First, Francis finally gave up on his dream of making something of himself. Francis came to the harsh realization that he was a failure. That was the end
of his pride and the beginning of his deep humility, which is to say, the beginning of the time when God could really work on him.

Second, Francis realized that God loved him, just as he was, failures and all. God’s love was not something Francis had to earn. God’s love was something Francis could enjoy, and share, and celebrate.

Third, Francis experienced the profound peace and joy that come from knowing he had nothing to prove, that God loved him, and that God would always love him, no matter what.

Coming out of this dark period, Francis was filled with holy humility, love, and joy. That humility, love, and joy transformed Francis and shaped the rest of Francis’ life.

So, for example, having accepted his own failings, Francis could accept the failings of the people around him, too. Francis knew that he sinned and fell short of the glory of God, so he didn’t judge others when they sinned in their own ways.

Accepting himself and others in that way, and knowing that God loved him and others totally, Francis, too, could love. Francis loved the people of his town who had been cruel to him. Francis loved the Church authorities, who never knew what to do with him and sometimes stood in his way. Perhaps most difficult of all, Francis loved the people who later joined his Order and then took the Order in directions that he strongly opposed.

It was as if Francis saw everyone, including himself, as bathed in God’s light and love.

And living in that world of light, surrounded always by love, Francis exuded joy, the kind of joy that drew people to him, the kind of joy that inspired people to embrace his way of life, with all its sacrifices.

Now, at last, I come to the animals.

Francis saw all of creation in the same divine light in which he saw other people. Birds were God’s creation, God’s children in their own way, loved by God as surely as was Francis himself. And so Francis loved the birds, all the animals, all of creation. And Francis found, and Francis expressed, enormous joy in that love.

I don’t think Francis preached to birds because he thought they could understand him. I think Francis preached to birds because his heart was overflowing with love for them and with joy in their beauty that he simply had to express.

Francis is most known for his love of birds, but Francis’ love went beyond the obviously loveable animals. Francis loved all of creation, including a man-eating wolf that Francis tamed with his love.

At our best, we bless animals in that same spirit. Not out of cheap sentimentality, but out of deep love for animals as God’s creation and holy joy in their presence.

Our calling as Christian people is to follow Francis’ lead, to love the people, and pets, and things around us that are easy to love. And then to expand the circle of our love outwards, farther and farther, to embrace more and more of God’s beloved children, more and more of God’s beloved creation.

This morning, we bless animals because it’s fun, and because we love them. But we also bless animals in a sacramental way, as representatives of the whole of God’s creation, all of which we are called to love and steward in God’s name, following the example of Saint Francis.

Probably not many of us will preach a sermon to birds. But on your way home, take a moment to notice the natural world around you, to give thanks for it, and to ask God to bless it.

My prayer for us is that God will help our love to grow and that our growing love will inspire us to better care for the world around us.

In Christ’s name. Amen.