They're only animals.

You know, my cat doesn’t like it when I work on sermons.  Oh, she likes hanging out together, even when we’re just sitting quietly in the living room.  She likes it when I’m sitting quietly, and she’s napping!  But, she doesn’t like it when I’m pacing around, or typing on a computer keyboard.  At the very least, my cat thinks, if attention is given, it should be directed toward the cat.  Her Egyptian ancestors were revered as gods, so I can’t really blame her for this attitude.   Beyond this, however, she seems to think that when two companions are together, they should in some way be available to each other; and I can’t fault her for that opinion, either!  Maybe, if more humans embraced it, our marriages, families, friendships—all relationships—would be healthier.   

Mwrh!  she says to me, as I sit and stare at my computer screen.  Hey!  Look at me.  I’m sitting on my catnip mat, looking at my string, then looking at you.  Come and play!  Don’t forget to play!  Get out of your chair, and come to where I am.  Pet me, and I will purr, and rub you back.  Let us be affectionate with each other, and enjoy these good things. 

How many of you have experienced a similar invitation from one of your pets?  Or, perhaps they have invited you to enjoy some moment of beauty—the light, or the night, or a song, or a smell?  Maybe your gerbil has taught you something about hard work, about industry.  Maybe your rabbit has taught you something about how to be gentle with shy creatures.  Maybe your dog has taught you about unconditional love.  To share in these things, you only had to look, and listen. 

But they’re only animals.  So, maybe they’re not that important.  

We have domesticated many animals:  we’ve taken away their complete freedom, their wildness, and we’ve made them dependent upon us for their survival.  Sometimes, some of them miss their freedom; but most of the time, they offer us trust, and even a kind of attention we can’t find anywhere else.  

And so, we, in our turn, become dependent upon them.  I think that’s okay:  I think it can only help us begin to realize our interdependence with every other thing on this planet. 

Several of the people in this room are grieving the death, during the past year or so, of a beloved pet or pets.  You feel the loss, often very deeply.  I notice that we don’t talk about it much with one another, because somewhere along the way, we’ve all had someone tell us, “It’s just an animal!”  So, even though we have strong attachments to our pets, we minimize them, or we grieve quietly.  After all, they’re only animals. 

But I think we ought to pay attention, together.  Face it—humans can be difficult to deal with:  their brains are big, which makes them tricky.  They sometimes think not only that they’re made in the image of God, but that they are God.  The Holy One sometimes finds it difficult to open our hearts and minds through other humans.  So, I think the Holy One also tries to open our hearts and minds through the ministry of our animal companions.  Pay attention, Jesus suggests in today’s reading.  Get up.  Look at the birds.  Listen.  Share in something good.   

This morning, as you’ve seen, we have two honored guests in worship.  –Oh, and Tom and Laura Schmiegel are here, too!  But, really, who’s going to get more attention—them or their dogs?  (Tom and Laura, we’re glad you’re here, too.) 

Certified Listening Dogs.  What a great title.  Here’s an example of what they do.  Imagine that you’re a child who is learning to read.  Maybe the human beings in your life are tense, or critical, or uninterested, or just too tired to listen.  Or maybe you find reading difficult.  Then, at the public library, you discover a dog who is willing to sit and listen to all your stumbling, and all your successes, with quiet patience and complete acceptance.  The dog only understands a few words of your language, but all the same, the two of you manage to communicate.  If you were a child in this situation, wouldn’t you grow more confident in your reading, and even in yourself?  You probably would.  Many Napa children do, in our own public library. 

But, these dogs, they’re only animals, right? 

And Kazzy the camel, who visited us at Epiphany—the one whose presence causes chronically-silent nursing home residents to sit up and talk, the one who made us feel true wonder and awe, even when she peed in our church—that camel is only an animal, after all.   

Well, that’s a pretty self-centered thing to say, isn’t it?  It is!  You know who’s just an animal?  We are!  Sure, we may have these fancy cerebral cortexes, but we’re also mammals, with extensive DNA links to the other creatures on this planet.  “–Our relations,” as some Native Americans like to put it.  Our sisters and brothers, as Francis of Assisi put it.  They may not be of our species, but they are our relatives.

And what do they teach us?  Well, our pets in particular teach us that most every creature has a way of communicating, if we will only take the time to pay attention and learn it.  Even honeybees have a language, which they use to tell other bees where the good nectar is!  When I was a child, my cats taught me that blinking or squinting means, “I like and trust you enough not to have to watch you all the time,” or even, “I am happy.”  In dog language, a yawn can mean, “I pose no threat to you,” and licking the lips can mean, “Thank you.  I am your humble, grateful servant.”  We only have to step outside our own language, and observe, to learn these things. 

And what has this got to do with our life at church?  Well, think about those messages we so often receive from our pets:  Pay attention.  Get up.  Look.  Listen.  Share something good.   

You may be aware that Napa Valley Lutheran Church is involved in the Natural Church Development process.  It’s a way of helping us to choose a healthy focus for our growth each year.  Some of you thought last year’s “Passionate Spirituality” focus was daunting; well, hold on to your hats, because this year, our congregation’s focus is going to be “Need-oriented Evangelism.”  That’s a mouthful, and it contains the sometimes-scary-to-Lutherans word “evangelism!”  Aaaah!  How can we approach this?

Our Natural Church Development team suggests we think of it this way:  Go.  See.  Share.

Sound familiar?  Mwrh!  Hey!  Get up out of your chair, and come over to where I am.  Set aside your own assumptions, and your own way of doing things—even your own way of communicating.  See me—really see me.  Listen to me.  Observe.  Learn.  Then share something good with me.  Offer me support in meeting my own needs, and meet some of your own needs in the process.  Show and tell me how loved I am.  Share my struggles and my joy.  Play.  Suffer.  Give and receive God’s love.   

In order to practice Need-oriented Evangelism, we’re going to have to Go.  We’ll need to step outside the church buildings, and work with people elsewhere.  With people, with animals, with the environment, we will practice getting involved.  We need to See.  We’ll want to set aside some of our middle-class assumptions about what is needed, and really listen to those in need.  And then, when we have discovered what is needed, we will Share.  We will discover where our own gifts intersect with the need, and then we will offer those gifts, in deed and in word.  “Preach the gospel,” Francis of Assisi reputedly said: “If necessary, use words.”  Like Jesus, we’ll have to take the risk of standing in solidarity with those who struggle, and especially with the vulnerable:  this really is not optional, even though it’s uncomfortable, because we simply can’t communicate the good news of God’s love in Jesus unless that love stands alongside our fellow creatures in their most painful moments.   

There are so many ways in which we are already doing these things!  And there is so much about this process that we have already learned—some of it from our animal relatives.  And from team meeting, to fellowship hour, to parking lot conversations, I can feel the energy building to take new steps in mission:  NVLC is getting ready to reach out more than ever.  That’s great! 

Go.     Get up off your pews and out into the world—literally, if you are physically able;  metaphorically, if you are not.  Leave your comfortable place, and go be in somebody else’s. 

See.     Observe, but not only from your own point of view.  Listen, but not only to your own way of talking

. 

Share.  We Christians proclaim that God became incarnate in Jesus, showing us that there is no barrier between flesh and spirit, material and spiritual.  All is holy.  All is a sacred vessel for God.  The whole world is beloved.  Christ’s death and resurrection have bound all of creation—all the little ones, all our relations, the whole cosmos—in a common redemption.  Grace is for all God’s creatures.  We are all reconciled in Christ.  We all belong to Christ, and in Christ, to one another. 

We learn so much from our relatives, don’t we?  And we can receive so much from them.  I’m grateful to be part of a congregation that loves its pets so much.  This year, I feel confident that they can help us with our mission.  Thanks be to our Creator, that we are all animals together.