The Reverend Dr. Lillian Daniel
1st Sunday of Advent
November 28, 2010
First Congregational Church,
www.firstconge.org
630-469-3096
Scripture: from Isaiah 35:1-10
The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert
shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and
rejoice with joy and singing.
Then the eyes of the blind
shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall
leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the
wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a
pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water; the haunt of jackals shall
become a swamp, the grass shall become reeds and rushes.
A highway shall be there, and
it shall be called the Holy Way; the unclean shall not travel on it, but it
shall be for God's people; no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray.
No lion shall be there, nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it; they shall
not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there...
Sermon:
One of the stranger things about air travel is being cut off from non-human creatures. When you get on an airplane you are not only leaving behind the people you know, but perhaps a dog, a cat or a goldfish. At the airport, you swim in a sea of people, but almost never see an animal. Cut off from the outside air, the trees and the grass, this is not pet territory.
But it’s not just modern people who have struggled with the issue of where humans should be and where animals should be. The Bible is full of images about the kingdom of heaven where animals get together in strange partnerships, like the lion and the lamb, who lie down together as cuddly friends ready for the next popular cute pet YouTube video.
Sometimes, the prophets talk about heaven as a place where we will be safe from animals, where a jackal’s haunt will become a swamp, with a holy highway running through it where no lions shall pass, as we heard this morning. Isaiah says, that Holy highway
“…it shall be for God's people; no
traveler, not even fools, shall go astray. No lion shall be there, nor
shall any ravenous beast come up on it; they shall not be found there, but the
redeemed shall walk there.” Isaiah 35:1-10
It may be this ancient
preoccupation with animals, with being hunted, that has made humans, as we have
gotten more powerful, still cut ourselves off from animals whenever we are
trying to do something important – like make a 250 million dollar airplane,
weighing tons, take off and fly through the air. We have made that our holy
highway, where jackals and lions do not rule, and can’t even get a ticket.
Airports are human territory.
For that reason, on the rare occasion someone travels with a pet, it gets a lot of attention. People ooh and ah over the little dog that gets carried through the security line, wild-eyed and nervously shaking. And they always seem to be little dogs, don’t they? I can’t see maneuvering a hundred-pound mutt in and out of one of those little designer doggie cases that fits under a seat.
In airports, you see the big dogs working. They might be walking with a blind person, allowed to enter restaurants and bathrooms, and other places where dogs seem surprising. Big dogs in airports also work with the folks in security and police uniforms, sniffing for drugs and explosives. And they do always seem to be big dogs, don’t they? Have you ever seen a Yorkshire terrier sniffing for drugs, or a chi hua hua? It seems that at airports, dogs have their roles. The little ones get carried onto the plane in luxury and the big ones work.
Those travelling and working dogs are not all that different from us humans. When someone says goodbye to us, we are scared and wonder where we are being sent off to, even when we can read the destination on our ticket. We are sometimes nervous in the security line, even though we can understand the words being spoken us.
The dogs in the airport get our attention because they display the emotions that we cover up in day-to-day life. They shake nervously while we act calm. They bark when we try to keep our voices low and even. They look scared in their cages, while we try to appear confident.
Their cages are visible, whereas our cages are invisible. We may feel as trapped as they do, but no one knows.
I think God watches us like we watch those animals. Out of place in the airport, or out of place in the world, God observes it all. God sees our nervousness, our fears and hears our barking. And when we’re being shipped off in a carrier, God has a sense of the destination and wants us to know we’re going to be OK. But we can’t see all that. We don’t know where on earth we are going. And so God is the gentle stranger who offers a kind word, a pat, a drink of water and then sends us on our way, wanting us to know we are loved, even when we feel like a fish out of water, or as out of place as a dog in an airplane. …or a bird for that matter – in the bathroom of airplane. Yes, it happens.
I waited awkwardly in the line for the bathroom, but the person in there was taking forever. And what strange noises were coming out of there. Were there two people in there having a conversation? When the door opened I was caught in a cloud of feathers. A woman came out with an enormous cockatiel on her arm, and it was talking in a human voice. The flight attendant stepped up awkwardly. “You weren’t supposed to take that bird out of its carrier,” he said.
The woman ignored the flight attendant and sat in her seat with the large bird on her lap. I looked inquisitively at the flight attendant, to silently ask the question with my eyes, “What on earth is going on?” “It’s a therapy bird,” he informed me. “So it’s allowed on the plane. But we didn’t think she would let it out of the cage.”
The woman overheard this, and turned to say, “Yes, it is a therapy bird, and I need it to go with me everywhere I go. I have a note from my doctor.”
One passenger asked another quietly, “Is a therapy bird like a seeing eye dog?”
“I think so,” the other passenger said. “But I don’t think that woman is blind.”
“Maybe the bird is blind,” the first passenger said, “and she’s providing some assistance to the bird.”
“All I know is that I don’t want to see that bird start flying around in here.”
Suddenly the woman jumped up and stood in the line for the bathroom once again. The bird’s head was jutting back and forth, like he was deciding whether or not to peck my shoulder, or fly head long into the cockpit door.
“You really can’t take that bird with you to the bathroom again,” the flight attendant said.
“Well, I’m not taking him with me,” the woman said, as the large bird spread its wings and suddenly flutter-jumped off her arm and onto her shoulder, one wing slapping against my face. The rest of us in the bathroom line flinched away almost falling into the laps of the people in the aisle seats, and they in turn leaned into the window seats. Nobody wanted to be too close to that bird.
“You are obviously taking it with you,” the flight attendant said. “Everyone can see it right there on your shoulder.”
“No, I am not taking it with me to the bathroom,” she said. “I have already just used the bathroom, as you well know. This time, my bird is taking me with him. Now, he needs to use the facilities.”
With that, the three of us in line all had one thought. It really wasn’t that long a flight. We could wait and go at the airport. The bird squawked in triumph as we retreated to our seats.
Reminds me of a story I heard about a man who had a parrot that had a terrible attitude and an even worse vocabulary. He tried to change the bird’s behavior by speaking softly and only saying loving and encouraging things, but still the bird continued to squawk awful things at everyone in the home. At one point the owner finally lost his temper and just to get some peace and quiet, threw the parrot into the freezer. The parrot yelled insults and foul language for a while and then was silent.
“Oh no,” he thought, pulling open the door, relieved to see that the parrot was just fine. In fact, the parrot said very sweetly, “I want to sincerely apologize for my bad language, my mean attitude and anything I have done to annoy you.”
The owner was amazed at the transformation. The parrot then added, “And now, if I may be so bold, can I ask what the turkey did?”
That story is funny because it taps into a deep tension about how or whether human beings and animals can interact. Obviously we can’t really converse but there are ways in which we can be in very close quarters with creatures that are profoundly different from us.
There’s one airport my husband travels in and out of where somehow birds have nested and they fly around in the terminal. They have tried to take care of the issue but the birds keep showing up, and multiplying. They eat the fast food crumbs, and the bugs in the potted plants. And they make their nests in the cold modern ceilings. As hard as we humans try to control our spaces, nature takes hold with a stubborn spirit. It is as if we are not meant to be cut off from one another. There, the birds get to fly and dip like aviators on a beautiful day, all within the confines of a Midwestern airport. There, the birds in the airport get the last word. I guess they have yet to lay eyes on a frozen turkey.
A few years back, our church began to hold an annual Blessing of the Animals service. If airports are not very pet friendly, churches are less so. At least in airports you see the occasional animal, but very rarely in a church. So I will never forget that first service we held and the oddness of it all.
On a lovely fall Saturday morning, by the side entrance to the chapel, greeters waited on the lawn with dog biscuits, cat treats and bowls of water, as the pets and their human friends got to know one another. A few dogs sniffed and peed on the church sign, which raised a few eyebrows. But from a dog’s point of view, why not?
Coming into the chapel was quite a scene, as pet owners struggled to keep their animals calm. Leashes were pulled tight but still the dogs wanted to sniff each other in a manner that was rather risqué for church. But given that it was a first worship experience for them, we decided to suspend the “no sniffing the other parishioners” rule that day.
Our associate minister Seth Carey began to preach his sermon, holding his darling little Persian cat in his arms, and after last Sunday’s sermon, I must add, I don’t know which one of them was having a better hair day. But then that little blow-dried cat took one look at my huge slobbering lab mix mutt and she started hissing. Bruno responded with a cross between a growl and a tortured moan, which I translated as “Please mommy, let me eat it!”
Every church has its conflicts, but I did not want to mediate the wreckage of watching the senior minister’s dog eat the associate minister’s cat. I held Bruno tight and tried to get him to stop lunging toward the cat like a snack.
And then all the animals were at it, chiming in with all kinds of strange noises that had not been heard in the chapel since the last senior high school lock in. What a cacophony.
It remains in my memory one of the most joyful worship services I have ever attended. The animal noises made the human beings crack up in laughter. I imagine God delighted in the hilarity. Together, all God’s creatures, we were making a joyful noise to the Lord.
At one point, the whole world was safe for animals. Now their territory is constricted. So I like to think of the sight of an animal in the airport as a special gift. We get a glimpse of nature in a sterile place. We get a dose of animal instinct in a place where we all have to behave ourselves. It’s as odd as hearing a dog bark in church, and just as wonderful.
Even if we don’t experience it that way at the time. I am always touched at the luggage check-in to see some enormous dog carrier get carted off with the luggage. Inside you see the big sad eyes of a nervous dog being separated from its owner.
I remind myself that this is not really a tragic scene but a loving one. Someone loves this big mutt enough to fly it across the country. This dog may be about to get a new yard, a new living room to shed fur all over, and a new set of squirrels to chase across the neighborhood.
To me it’s a metaphor for the passage from life to death. This dog is scared now, but we who are watching this scene know that he must be very loved. The dog can’t see it, but I trust he will know it soon enough. Love waits for him on other side of this hard journey. As love waits for all of us.
My hope is that when I finally get to the end of the holy highway, it won’t be free of jackals and lions, but will have room for everyone who’s ever walked the road. We’ll all be safe, we’ll all be redeemed, the therapy bird, the rude parrot, the Persian cat, the hungry dog, and you and I, all of us in search of a home, everyone of us, finally adopted by the one who has owned us all along.
Thoughts for
meditation:
What is the last animal you encountered and what did it teach you?
Is there a special animal currently in your life, one you are grateful for? It could be your dog or your neighbor’s pet. Give thanks.
Is there an animal that is currently driving you crazy? It could be your dog or your neighbor’s pet. Pray for patience, or for a solution.
When is the next time you will see an animal? Prepare to see that bug or that squirrel as a gift from the creator. Be present.
St. Francis was the patron saint of animals. Here is the beautiful prayer he wrote:
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.
Oh, Divine Master, grant that I may not
so much seek
to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
—Saint Francis of Assisi