A Cloud of Four-legged Witnesses

What the rest of creation has to say about gratitude and compassion

Hello from Europe! Sorry for the delay, y’all. I’ve been traveling and am finally finding my rhythm again. I wanted to pop back in your inbox with a timely meditation on motion, witness, and the reframing of travel as necessity rather than luxury, but I’m just gonna start with what I got and grow from there.

Here’s a pic I took of Florence and the Duomo, the most beautiful building I’ve ever visited, second only to the Aya Sofia in Istanbul.

Anchor

[God] waters the mountains from his upper chambers;
    the land is satisfied by the fruit of his work…

The trees of the Lord are well watered,
    the cedars of Lebanon that he planted.
 There the birds make their nests;
    the stork has its home in the junipers.
 The high mountains belong to the wild goats;
    the crags are a refuge for the hyrax…

All creatures look to you
    to give them their food at the proper time.
 When you give it to them,
    they gather it up;
when you open your hand,
    they are satisfied with good things.
 When you hide your face,
    they are terrified;
when you take away their breath,
    they die and return to the dust.
 When you send your Spirit,
    they are created,
    and you renew the face of the ground.

 May the glory of the Lord endure forever;
    may the Lord rejoice in his works… —verses from Psalm 104

Sea

I’m really excited about animal reels on Instagram. Videos that feature fuzz-butt compassion and gratitude make me teary-eyed. A cat bringing blush-colored carnelias to a woman’s bedroom window. A bird returning a lost camera lens to a little girl. A sloth thanking a helpful Samaritan who returned her baby after it fell out of a tree. 

My heart thaws out. I find myself saying, “This is good. This is very good.” It’s almost as if human beings were made for this kind of reciprocal relationship of care.  Not just with one another but with Creation as a whole. 

I use the word ‘Creation’ instead of ‘the world’ because Creation understands the world as a body of work…somebody else’s work. (Maybe even somebody else’s body if we think of the Resurrected Incarnate Christ.)  Either way, it’s not ours to do with as we please. Creation is God’s big labor and Their even bigger gift. It must be received, stewarded, added to, and passed along as all gifts are. A grateful heart is the only heart worthy of it.

Do animals and plants show gratitude because they too recognize grace? Can they be gracious simply their Maker is?

Jesus says the sparrows and the lilies understand this aspect of God because God has a relationship with them as well. Father feeds them though they do not sow, and Father dresses them though they do not spin. In return for his abundant care, they produce abundantly.  

I think about the charity of my friend Mary’s peach trees. For her patient tending, they offer their wonderfully juicy peaches to her and all her closest friends. Just one of their seeds can feed an entire generation once it grows into a tree and becomes fruit-bearing. Gratitude seems to multiply things. 

Photo by LuAnn Hunt on Unsplash

This is all sound Indigenous wisdom that resonates with Scripture. Humans were made for harmony with the natural world because we were made in the harmony of the natural world. Our work starts from God’s Sabbath rest, His place of generous wholeness. It is only from this place of total satisfaction that we labor to deepen the harmonic shalom of which we are a part—but not the whole. 

Even though people are not the totality of God’s vision, humans are supposed to lead Creation in this gracious act of care. Unfortunately, greed, empire, and selfish individualism—all forms of idolatry and covetousness—have eclipsed our purpose and our worship. Perhaps God is using other creatures to mercifully remind us of the compassionate stewards that we’ve been equipped to be.

When we act out of deep-seated faith in God’s generosity, the sufficiency of Her provision, and the blessing of a worldwide sabbath, we mirror these aspects of God’s character. We live as we were meant to: as the “Imago-Dei,” the image and shadow of God. 

Photo by Tanya Trofymchuk on Unsplash

Respectful worship is only and ever done in God’s shadow, Spirit fluttering, and brooding over the face of the deep. There, we become midwives to the Spirit’s next creative act. We step out of God’s shadow, however, when we refuse to acknowledge God’s work and refuse to recognize ourselves as a part of that work. 

Do you remember when John the Baptist says to the religious leaders, “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father,’ for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham?”

What about when Jesus says to the Pharisees, “I tell you if [these worshippers] were silent, the very stones would cry out”?

Jesus and John direct their rebuke toward folks who’ve eclipsed God’s image with their own. When we do the same, we become narcissists obsessing over our own reflection. We forget about the rest of Creation and become ungenerous towards our brothers and sisters (also translated in Scripture as unrighteous). Our hearts become stony, the shalom is broken, and our worship falls silent. 

We are not yet at the moment when God has to resort to stones, but perhaps animals and plants are revealing the compassionate heart of God so clearly because many of us humans are slacking on the job. If J.B. says God will use stones, surely He is not above using sloths, geese, or donkeys. Can these animals be potential children for Abraham? A sighted cat loving leading a blind cat or a group of turtles working together to right a friend who has gone belly up in the water. More than cuteness overload, these are compassionate beings engaged in recovering a piece of God’s shalom. 

God is worthy of this kind of worship from all of Her Creatures. If human beings refuse to join in, She will find others who relish Her beauty. Mice, Fish, Gardenias. Whatever.

Verily,

Alysia

Sail

Here is a short poem called “Circle of Days” by Reeve Lindbergh. It was adapted from the works of St. Francis of Assisi. This felt appropriate since I was just in Tuscany, the region of St. Francis’ ministry.

O Lord, we offer thanks and praise for the circle of our days.
Praise for our radiant brother sun, Who makes the hours around us run.

For sister moon, and for the stars, Brilliant, and precious, always ours.
Praise for our brothers wind and air, Serene or cloudy, foul or fair.

For sister water, clear and chaste, Useful and humble, good to taste.
For fire, our brother, strong and bright, Whose joy illuminates the night.

Praise for our sister, mother earth, Who cares for each of us from birth.
For all her children, fierce or mild, For sister, brother, parent, child.

For creatures wild, and creatures tame, For hunter, hunted, both the same.
For brother sleep, and sister death, Who tend the borders of our breath.

For desert, orchard, rock, and tree, For forest, meadow, mountain, sea. 
For fruit and flower, plant and bush, For morning robin, evening thrush.

For all your gifts, of every kind, We offer praise with quiet mind.
Be with us, Lord, and guide our ways Around the circle of our days.  Amen.