Ask the Animals: Spiritual Wisdom from All God's Creatures

by Elizabeth Canham

Overview

"Ask the animals" Job says, "and they will teach you; the birds of the air and they will tell you . . . who among you does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this?"

From the humpback whale, who offers a glimpse into God's mystery; to the elephant, who models God's fiercely protective love and compassion; to the blackbird, who opens our eyes to the song of joy that sings through the cosmos, the animal kingdom is a treasure trove of images of our Creator. In this beautifully illustrated collection of essays, readers will find surprising connections and much food for thought. Ask the Animals is a wonderful resource for private devotion or group study.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780819226594
Publisher:	Morehouse Publishing
Publication date:	10/01/2006
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Pages:	138
File size:	1 MB

About the Author

Elizabeth Canham, an Episcopal priest and native of England, is the author of Heart Whispers and Journaling with Jeremiah. She is director of the Hospites Mundi spirituality center in North Carolina.

Read an Excerpt

Ask The Animals

Spiritual Wisdom From All God's Creatures

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By Elizabeth J. Canham

Church Publishing, Inc.

Copyright © 2006 Elizabeth J. Canham
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-8192-2659-4

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CHAPTER 1

Mystery

God's Playmates

The Hebrew Scriptures begin with a great panorama that catches our imagination and takes our breath away. We come into being in deep, dark chaos over which the Spirit of God broods, waiting to give birth. The first dawn breaks as the Creator sends a wind over the void and Light comes to give definition to day and night. And God sees that it is good. Then the gift of water flows, its power harnessed as plants, trees, and living creatures of earth, air, and ocean dance into view. Again, God observes that it is good. The finale celebrates the decision of God to create beings that reflect the divine image, and it is to them that the Creator entrusts care for all that has come to be. We look with God at everything that has been made, and indeed, it is very good (Genesis 1:31).

The story of creation plunges us into Mystery. The narrative invites our wonder and our worship, our joy and celebration of the interconnected web that is the universe—beyond our understanding but not beyond our imagination. When I read this narrative, I imagine myself in a darkened theater, waiting breathlessly for the curtain to rise, overwhelmed by the beauty, majesty, and amazing creativity of God as scene after scene is played out. The final chorus brings us to our feet as a standing ovation goes on and on—it is all good, indeed, very good. We close our Bibles, leave the drama, and go outside with regret that the end has come—only to discover that Creation is all around us to remind us constantly of God's very good work. Rain falls, then the sun comes out; birds sing and trees blossom; otters play in the river and the dog leaps with barks of ecstasy to celebrate our homecoming. Indeed, it is very good.

Mystery is all around us and at the heart of our own being, but we become so accustomed to what is around us that we fail to see and be filled with awe—anywhere, not just in places of scenic wonder. For several years I lived in a tiny apartment in New York City where the early-morning sounds were garbage trucks rumbling down the street, a far cry from the birdsong I had learned to love. At first, I resented the absence of natural beauty, but soon learned to notice the amazing resilience of the earth and the presence of creatures, including the ubiquitous cockroaches. I felt my heart lighten one morning as I stood at a gridlocked intersection where the sound of curses and car horns filled the air and, looking up, noticed a row of pigeons perched on the long arm of a traffic signal from which they observed the human chaos. Were they laughing at us? They certainly invited my gratitude and taught me to "lighten up" and rise above the dust and debris that polluted my sense of wonder. The sidewalk where I waited to catch the downtown bus was buckled where weeds had pushed through the concrete, offering a powerful image of creation's victory in oppressive circumstances. Even inside my apartment, I had plants and flowers and a collection of natural objects to help me pray through the distractions of city life.

That morning was one of those occasions when we experience Mystery so powerfully that the grace of the moment is truly amazing. I've been blessed to experience many other such moments. Soon after I moved to the United States from England in 1981, I visited a friend on Cape Cod. From Boston, I boarded a ferry to Provincetown; about midway across the bay, the captain announced that a whale had been sighted, so he stopped the boat and passengers crowded at the rails to watch. Sure enough, a telltale water spout rose into the air followed by the great, dark shape of a humpback whale. We watched for several minutes, oblivious to friends awaiting our late arrival on the Cape. Then and there I fell in love with these great creatures of the deep. During the week I spent with my friend, we went on a whale-watch vessel that took us out of Provincetown harbor to the deep waters off Stellwagen Bank, where the whales were known to feed. We saw many whales that day, including one of the few endangered right whales, and the marine biologist on board explained the importance of monitoring the habits and migratory patterns of whales. Humpback whales were being identified by the underside of their tails, which all had different and unique markings that led to their naming by the Center for Marine Biology.

One big humpback whale was feeding alongside her calf, and as we came close, I was awed by her gentleness and beauty. I learned that some of the support for research came from ordinary people like me who "adopted" a whale of their choice, so I immediately signed up to adopt this wonderful mother, whose name was Salt. Over the years I received reports of sightings of Salt and her offspring as they returned each year from the Caribbean—it was an exciting day when I learned that she had become a grandmother.

I am drawn back again and again to be among whales in their natural habitat, and my awe has increased as I have learned more about them. Though their longevity and breeding patterns remain a mystery to scientists, I think I understand the wonderful sense of playfulness that led God to make Leviathan—the great whale of Scripture—to sport in the ocean (Psalm 104:26). The writers of the Talmud, the ancient writings of the rabbis on Jewish law and tradition seem to agree: "For three hours of each day, God amuses Himself (sic) so to speak, with the Leviathan"1 (Avodah Zarah 3b). Whales are God's playmates. I long to join God with the whales— diving, breaching, caring for their young, entirely at home in the deep ocean, but the closest I come to that dream is standing at the side of a boat. These days, I leave my camera behind—attempts to frame the moment rob me of the exhilaration that comes from being truly present to the vision of the divine these lovely animals embody.

Some days I'm blessed with more of these moments than others. On a day in 2001 my shipmates and I were rewarded with the sighting of a young whale breaching repeatedly. As we began to head back to harbor, the biologist on board observed two more whales he'd seen traveling together at the beginning of the season, both of them apparently pregnant and staying together for protection. Their journey together reminded me of Mary's journey to her cousin Elizabeth whose baby, John the Baptist, leaped in her womb in joyful recognition of the mother of Jesus. One of the pregnant whales, it turned out, was Salt. Though I missed her first sighting that day, she and her companion quickly reappeared. Slowly Salt separated herself from her companion and came toward the boat until she was lying, full length, alongside, just a few feet below where I stood. As I write these words, tears of awe and joy prickle once more behind my eyelids. Salt and I were united once again, and I sensed a connection that is far deeper than words can express or the human mind can understand. It was a holy moment, an encounter with the Mystery at the heart of the universe, and a moment when I felt as Moses must have felt when he knew the presence of God as he stood beside the burning bush. In this divine encounter, I stepped out of the shoes of rationality to stand, tears of joy running down my windblown face, in the awesome, mysterious presence of God. Indeed, it was very good.

Reflecting with Scripture

Genesis 28:10–17

Can you recall moments in your life when the awesome Mystery of God has been revealed to you? How did you respond? Are there ways you might become more conscious of holy Presence in daily life?

Prayer

Mysterious Creator of all things living, we offer thanks for the amazing world you made and for blessing us as caretakers. May we never lose a sense of wonder as we walk the holy ground of this earth. When we forget you, please surprise us with your near presence in creatures who invite our playfulness and worship. Amen.

CHAPTER 2

Faith

What's the Buzz?

One afternoon, shortly after I moved to the United States, I sat on the tiled porch of an elegant South Carolina plantation house. The spring air was warm, and a light breeze wafted fragrance from a bed of multicolored blooms as I rocked drowsily beside one of the great white pillars. This must be what heaven is like, I thought—no more of that chilly British rain or fog-filled days and gray skies for me. I was startled out of my reverie by a very loud buzzing sound, and saw, just above the flowers, the biggest bug I had ever laid eyes on. Incredulously I watched as it seemed suspended above one of the larger blooms and dipped its head deep into the center of the flower. Then it rose, hovered, and moved on to begin the nectar-gathering process all over again. I had just met my first hummingbird.

The ruby-throated hummingbird is a regular visitor to my home in the North Carolina mountains. Since my shady yard does not boast many fragrant, nectar-filled plants, I suspend feeders filled with sugar water close to the window where I can watch these extraordinary, tiny birds. Their rapid, humming wing beat enables them to hover as they feed and also to fly backward if necessary. They can be aggressive little birds, chasing rivals away from the feeder and somehow avoiding the midair collisions that are a traffic controller's nightmare. One day, I walked onto my screen porch where I heard a whirring, buzzing sound and discovered that one of the humming birds, no doubt attempting to escape a competitor, had failed to notice that it was heading at high speed toward the screen. The bird's long beak had penetrated the mesh and stuck. The hummingbird's helicopter wings beat frantically, but it was unable to extricate itself from the tight fibers. It took less than a second for me to apply light pressure on the protruding beak and push the humming bird backward into freedom.

In early spring one year, I looked out the window and there, hovering in space, was a disappointed humming bird reproachfully waiting for food. Clearly it had returned to the precise place where it had previously found a plentiful supply of nectar. The bird had enough faith to migrate back to my yard and was making irritated, squeaky "chipping" sounds to alert me to its hunger. I quickly made up some nectar and filled the feeder. "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for," the little bird's life proclaimed; "the conviction of things not seen" (Hebrews 11:1). That bird appeared to be endowed with a faith that, despite not seeing nectar at the moment of return, knew that it would find its needs met again. I was reminded of those many occasions when I return to my daily practice of reading Scripture expecting to be "fed," only to discover that distractions, and perhaps tiredness, leave me feeling empty and unsatisfied. Faith means that I will not give up. I will keep "hovering" over the Word of God until it yields the soul food for which I long. Faith means that I continue to trust in God, perhaps squeaking a bit to make sure I am heard, until I am satisfied.

One of the more difficult passages in the Gospel according to Matthew appears to portray Jesus as insensitive, even racist. A woman from Canaan approaches him because her daughter is sick and she had heard of Jesus' healing ministry. "Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David; my daughter is tormented by a demon" (Matthew 15:22). Jesus ignores the woman, and finally the disciples plead with him to send her away since she is now making them uncomfortable with her persistent shouting for attention. Jesus says that his mission is to the "lost sheep of the house of Israel," but the woman does not give up. In a response that seems even ruder than the first, Jesus says, "It is not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs." She replies, "Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from the masters' table." Then Jesus answers her, "'Woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you wish.' And her daughter was healed instantly" (13:25–28).

Although the story makes us uncomfortable because it portrays Jesus in a way that seems insensitive to us, the intent is clear: We are to be persistent in prayer and faith. We do not come to Jesus as those who have pride in our origins, but with humility and a willingness to own our poverty. In the time of Jesus, the audacity of this woman would have been shocking; no faithful Jew would speak with a woman in public, even his own wife—but this woman refuses to give up, even when Jesus tries to ignore her. She hovers and squeaks until she gets what she needs and in the process hears Jesus comment on her great faith.

It is hard to be faithful in prayer when God seems to be deaf to our cries for help. Sometimes the psalmists express deep anger at God, who appears to have abandoned them: "How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?" (Psalm 13:1). For us, too, it may be necessary to pour out our anguish and sense of loss, to allow God to hear our cry of disappointment, in order to pray authentically. In those cries, spoken rather than internalized, there is healing and restoration to faith. "I trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for he has dealt bountifully with me" (13:5–6). We deepen our faith every time we look at our emptiness and trust that God has not forgotten the nectar.

Reflecting with Scripture

Hebrews 12:1–2

How do you deal with those times when God seems absent? What steps might you take to strengthen your faith?

Prayer

Faithful God, remind me to trust in times of loss and to know that my faith is strengthened as I pray with honesty and persistence. Help me to wait for your time and feed me with the sweetness of your grace. Amen.

CHAPTER 3

Hope

Don't Fence Me In

Earnest is a tortoise with an attitude. He lives in England with an animal-loving family who, over the years, have acquired three sheep, two goats, guinea pigs, rabbits, chickens, and numerous dogs and cats. Earnest joined the menagerie in 2003 when he was about thirty-five years-old, and he lives in a section of the yard where the hens wander free. At one end of his pen, he has a cozy, straw-filled shelter, but his exercise area is sometimes intruded on by the hens. When Earnest observes two skinny legs of a chicken nearby, he gathers all his energy and runs—yes, runs; tortoises are not always slow—and snaps at the offending intruder. Humans receive a similar treatment, but since his jaws are not wide enough to bite a person, he simply runs, then tucks his head inside his shell and repeatedly bashes their legs. Earnest was born a wanderer and is an ingenious escapee. Every few weeks panic sets in when Earnest has once again gone missing, and a major search ensues throughout the property and beyond. Once, Earnest was given up as totally lost when he was absent for some weeks and a notice was posted on the gate asking passersby to watch out for him. He was discovered, several blocks away, by a vigilant woman who happened to be visiting her mother in the neighborhood and spotted him. He was duly returned to his quarters once more.

Earnest sometimes gets confused about the hibernation habits of his kin. In the fall he will retire to his sleeping area and not be seen for days, but as soon as he is taken into his winter home inside the house, he wakes up and is put back outside. The family gets some respite from the endless attention Earnest requires when he finally does drop off for his long winter sleep, but when spring arrives, various members of the family begin to check on Earnest. When will he wake up? Is he okay? Maybe he died in his sleep. Hope is kept alive by the recollection of all the previous years when Earnest has ended his hibernation and poked his head out of his shell once more to look the world in the face. Hope is rewarded, and the attention cycle begins once again as Earnest tries to dig himself out of his pen, despite ample supplies of carrots and lettuce delivered to his suite each day, as well as regular polishing with olive oil to prevent his shell from drying out in the warm weather.

Neither of Earnest's protectors were enthusiastic about education. When Mr. Earnest-Protector left school two years before graduation, the principal added a succinct note at the end of his school report: I hope! I am not sure what he hoped for. Maybe he hoped that at a later time Earnest's Protector would return to his education or, at the very least, acquire a skill that would enable him to support a family. His hopes have been more than fulfilled. Mr. Earnest Protector is multiskilled in practical ways; he is a fine cook, and after many years of working successfully in the retail market, he returned to school and is now a qualified therapist with special gifts for working with teenagers. Hope became reality, as it does each spring when Earnest wakes up. Earnest is a demanding guest, but deeply loved for all that—though the hens may have a different perspective.
(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Ask The Animals by Elizabeth J. Canham. Copyright © 2006 Elizabeth J. Canham. Excerpted by permission of Church Publishing, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Acknowledgments          

Preface          

MYSTERY: God's Playmates          

FAITH: What's the Buzz?          

HOPE: Don't Fence Me In          

LOVE: If You Want to Keep Your Head—Wear a Hat          

HUMILITY: Little Things Mean a Lot          

DISCIPLINE: Desirable Realty          

WILDNESS: God Is Not Tame          

HABITAT: The Three Bears—and Momma          

DANCE: High Wire Act          

ANGER: Snap Judgments          

STUCK-NESS: Silly Goose          

COMPASSION: Gentle Giants          

FEAR: Tail of a Scaredy Cat          

PLAY: Now You See Them, Now You Don't          

FLEXIBILITY: Snake Dance          

TRUST: Gee–up          

TRUTH: Caws They Can          

WISDOM: Comings and Goings          

LAUGHTER: Monkey Business          

CREATIVITY: Wonder Webs          

ATTENTIVENESS: Paws for Prayer          

GRACE: Psalms of the Salt Marsh          

LOSS: Seeing Red          

LETHARGY: Narcotic Naps          

DILIGENCE: Outback High Rise          

COMPANIONSHIP: Big Ben          

JOY: Singin' in the Rain          

SOLITUDE: Red Riding Hood Got It Wrong.          

INGENUITY: Two Lovely Black Eyes          

HOMECOMING: Veldt Vespers