Blessing of the Animals

A Sermon from the Church of  

Bethesda-by-the-Sea in Palm Beach, Florida

Preached by the Rev. Timothy E. Schenck on October 1, 2023 (Feast of St. Francis)

When you preach at the Blessing of the Animals, there are a few key guidelines to follow. The first and greatest commandment is this: be brief. And the second is like unto it: be ready at any moment to either crank up the volume, or just abort the mission entirely and step away from the pulpit. Thereby acknowledging that it has all quite literally gone to the dogs. 

But despite the inherent risks, I absolutely love this day. In my opinion, this is one of the best services of the entire year. A day when we celebrate our love for those furry companions with whom we share our lives, a day to revel in the unconditional love they bestow upon us. 

I think we can all point to moments when our pets seem to orient us beyond the visible world. For instance, our two little rescue dogs, Cooper and Daisy Duke, just seem to know when I’ve had a tough day. I’ll plop down on the sofa bearing unspoken burdens, and they immediately curl up beside me. Silently offering solace and comfort and companionship. 

In their own way, our beloved animals embody the words from Jesus we heard this morning, “Come unto me all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you.” Well, that’s the old language version of this passage, that’s so familiar to many of us. What we actually heard Jesus say is, “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” Our pets often embody this for us, serving as a reminder that Jesus calls us to himself. That we can bring to him our fullest selves, our broken selves, our yearning selves. And he will refresh us and give us rest.

I also vividly remember that when my father was dying of cancer, our Siamese cat wouldn’t ever leave his side. Our pets just seem to know. Whether you had pets as a child, there’s one waiting for you at home, or they’re sitting in a pew with you this morning, we can all point to such moments when they have given us comfort and companionship. And I’m reminded of a famous quote attributed to St. Francis: “Preach the gospel at all times; if necessary, use words.” Our pets wordlessly preach the gospel of unconditional love and compassion and grace. Every single day. Certainly in ways that we could all learn from and emulate.

Now, this is usually the time when people point out that dog spelled backwards is God. And that’s true. But I’d argue that these holy moments transcend mere word play. They provide tangible evidence of the wideness and goodness of God’s creation. And what a gift that we are privileged to share our lives with our beloved animal companions. 

Which is precisely why we bless pets in the Episcopal Church. Pet blessings are an acknowledgment of God’s creation, and a joyful reminder of the role that pets play in our lives. Pets serve as a window into the divine love that pervades our lives in so many ways. They point to the Creation story in Genesis, where God gave the expanse of nature into our care to act as faithful stewards of all that surrounds us. Humans have a particular responsibility to care for and protect the earth and the animals that dwell upon it. And we certainly need that reminder, now more than ever.

But, just to be clear, if your pet is having some behavioral issues, a pet blessing is not an exorcism. I just like to be transparent about that. When your dog is blessed in a few moments, it doesn’t mean that he’ll never again eat one of your slippers. Or that your cat will suddenly become…friendly.

But as we celebrate St. Francis’ legacy, I thought I’d share a bit about this remarkable saintly soul. Now, let’s be honest. In the popular imagination, most people reduce St. Francis to little more than a garden gnome. So he sits there amid the flower beds with a bird on his shoulder and a rabbit at his feet. 

But this doesn’t do justice to the man behind the statues, the one who lived a life of such radical faith. Now almost everyone knows at least something about St. Francis. About his early life of frivolity, about his conversion and turning away from his family’s wealth, about his love for creation, the founding of his order which became known as the Franciscans, his receiving the stigmata, his being credited as having put together the first nativity scene. 

But in the end, Francis was simply a disciple of Jesus. He took literally the verse about selling all your possessions and giving the money to the poor. Few are called to such radical sacrifice, but Francis was.

Now, there are all sorts of legends about St. Francis and his interactions with animals. That he preached to the birds, and tamed wolves, and befriended fish and rabbits. But all of this is a reflection of a man who saw the interconnectedness of all creation, one where God stands at the very center of it all. And this lesson is as important now as it has ever been. Our actions matter. They impact other people, and the natural world, and every living thing. And sometimes we must sacrifice our own self-interests for the sake of God’s beautiful and bountiful and life-giving creation. As Paul wrote in his letter to the Philippians, “Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.”

That’s the spirit of St. Francis. And it is in this spirit that, in just a few moments, we will bless the fabulous beasts who have joined us for worship this morning.