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The Preacher’s Corner
By Rev. Dr. Milton Winter If there were no animals, I wouldn’t want to go Last
Sunday as we completed the service, I breathed yet another sigh of
relief that we’d gotten through it without anybody having eaten anybody
else alive. Let me hasten to say that I speak of the annual service for
the Blessing of the Animals that we share with Christ Episcopal Church! As
always, Christ Episcopal was a cacophony of barks and meows, all
joining their voices in praise of the Creator who made them. Poor Susan
Warren tried valiantly to play the hymn above all this caterwauling,
but “every dog has his day,” and some of ours were determined to do so
just then. It is fun, year after year, to greet
certain beloved pets again and again. Sometimes we note the passing of
a participant of many years. This year there was thanksgiving for a
sick one restored to health. Dr. Liz Smith from
the vet clinic and her menagerie came. At home was her favorite dog,
who was the ring-bearer in the wedding procession when she and Stephen
were married several years ago in Christ Church! Dogs
in the service are a new thing for me. In my growing-up years, other
than the owl I have told you about, which found its way into our church
one Saturday afternoon, I had never given the idea any thought.
Certainly the idea of including them in worship or blessing them never
entered our Delta Presbyterian minds. My father
used to tell the story of an elderly gentleman in the Christian Church
where Daddy spent his childhood Sundays in Clinton, Ky., who used to
bring his dog with him to the evening service on Sunday nights. The dog
would lie down under the pew and be quiet. Occasionally Fido would want
to venture out and, without taking his eyes off the preacher, the old
man would grab the dog by his tail and pull him back under the pew.
Daddy remembered the sound of the dog’s claws on the hardwood floor as
the man pulled him back into place! In our congregation here, Sara Hettinger would sometimes have her little dog Buzzie with her in the choir loft. This
would be the service on Christmas Eve, or some other special occasion
when, as we were given to understand, Buzzie could not stand to be left
home alone. I think these were also occasions when Sara especially
missed her husband Dudley, who also had been a stalwart member of our
church choir. There is a special way that
animals help fill the holes in our lives. Little Buzzie never made the
least disturbance, and few people knew of her presence in our services. The
Service for the Blessing of the Animals was Bruce McMillan’s idea.
Years ago when Bruce asked me to be an ecumenical representative at his
service of institution as rector of Christ Church, three bishops were
participating, and as we entered the church during the processional
hymn there was a good deal of ecclesiastical finery and plumage on
display. Along with all the bright-robed
clerics, Bruce’s two English spaniels wandered in, followed the
reverend procession down the center aisle, took their places in front
of the congregation and lay down. One of them
looked up lazily at the bishop delivering the sermon, yawned, licked
his chops and contentedly went back to sleep. Bruce seemed not to be
disturbed in the slightest, and I knew our town was in for some
interesting days. Psalm 84 says that “even the
swallow hath found her a house at thine altars, O Lord of hosts.” The
book of Revelation speaks of horses in heaven and four living creatures
gathered around God’s throne. If there were no animals, I would not
want to go there. But our little service with the animals is a fine way to spend a Sunday afternoon, and to be thankful. We also received a collection for the Marshall County Humane Society. That’s worth your interest and generosity as well.
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