December 15, 2024 Essay: Our Animal Companions
Since St. Francis created a nativity scene for Christmas in 1223 that included a live ox and donkey, our tradition has prominently featured animals surrounding the Christ child in the creche. The inclusion of non-human creatures reminds us that God chose to become incarnate among creatures, giving both them and us an elevated dignity. Living in the Bronx, I do not have an ox and donkey to include in my scene, but I did surrender to the demands of my wife Jessica and sons (Matthew and Michael) that we get a dog. After six years of living with a 12-pound Norfolk terrier named Benny, I admit that this little creature has taught me much about joy and tenderness, aging and limits, and above all, being human. Our relationship with animal companions has the potential to convey spiritual wisdom that can guide us toward living more deeply in the image of Jesus.
Tradition tells us that St. Francis preached to birds and tamed a dangerous wolf. In doing so he treated animals as more than objects. To Francis, they were subjects worthy of a relationship. Pope Francis’ teaching on environmental ethics has echoed his namesake’s example: “In our time, the Church does not simply state that other creatures are completely subordinated to the good of human beings, as if they have no worth in themselves and can be treated as we wish.” (Laudato Si’) Preparing our creches this Advent can be an invitation to offer a contemplative, loving gaze to our animal friends, to see their worth as carriers of God’s mysterious presence, and to learn from them.
Among the highlights of Jessica’s day is coming through the apartment door, when Benny jumps into her arms. Could there be any clearer expression of spontaneous joy, of celebrating life, of pure friendship? To watch this daily ritual is to receive a lesson in the value of playfulness, of living in the present moment, of the healing solace of companionship. Living with a dog has also mirrored back to me my limitations as a creature and the need we all have for self-care. Benny always stretches his little body before he moves, seeks out the solitude of a hiding place when he doesn’t feel well or simply wants to be alone, and takes a nap when he needs rest. And as he ages (at six, he’s now “middle-aged”), he paces himself, whether on a walk or playing with puppies. Observing him reminds me that our culture conditions us to ignore or to override the needs of the body, always to our detriment. The wisdom of a dog can bring me “back to earth,” back to humility, back to my humanity.
Among the greatest lessons our animal friends teach us is total attention to the master’s presence. I notice that Benny quietly follows us wherever we go in the apartment, Jessica especially. She has his complete attention; it is a relationship of total connection. If she is in the bathroom, he is outside the door. If she is taking a nap, he is beside the bed. If she is preparing a meal, he is in the kitchen. If I attended to God’s presence with a mere 10% of what this dog gives my wife, I’d be a saint! As I watch them, I wonder what it would be like if I moved toward God with the same contemplative gaze Benny fixes on Jessica.
As these Advent days draw to a close and the nativity blooms, I invite you to reflect on the graces our animal companions convey to us: how they teach us about God’s providential care; how they remind us what it is to be a creature, to be human. By simply living, they perfectly fulfill the call of Psalm 148, “Praise the Lord…wild animals and all cattle, small creatures and flying birds! Let them praise the name of the Lord.”
— Brian Pinter, Pastoral Associate