Bennett, a Great Dane, waits patiently in the church aisle.
Photograph by Kathy De La Torre
Creature Comforts
Animals are always calm when they come to St. Andrews
By Sandy Sims
The sanctuary at St. Andrew's Episcopal Church was bursting with song last Sunday but with an unusual mix of voices. In fact, the sanctuary looked more like Noah's ark with critters great and small sitting in the pews with their masters. It was "Blessing of the Animals" Sunday, in which creatures great and small--from ladybugs to horses--are welcome to stroll or waddle down the aisle for a prayer and maybe a scratch behind the ears.
Photograph by Kathy De La Torre
The Rev. Ernest Cockrell blesses 12-year-old Ellen Pratt's cat, Buttons.
Everyone loves this service, says the Rev. Ernest Cockrell, rector at St. Andrew's. The church is always full of joy and laughter, not to mention barking, squawking, chirping, meowing and sometimes even an occasional oink or whinny.
Cockrell, whose own name sounds like an exotic bird, is amazed that the animals are always calm inside the sanctuary. No dog fights or even messes on the floor. He recalls only one puppy puddle in the years they've been blessing the animals.
Photograph by Kathy De La Torre
Kathy Taylor makes sure her cocker spaniel stays close by.
However, these pet owners use common sense about the whole thing; cat owners carry their pets in cages because cats are afraid of dogs, and large dogs, like St. Bernards and Dobermans who might have difficulty fitting in narrow pews, have their own place in the west chapel, off to one side of the sanctuary.
It was Sunday service as usual, until the "offering of peace" segment when the congregation turned to their neighbors to shake hands and say Peace be with you.
"The place always erupts at that point," Cockrell says, and everyone talks and laughs. They get into vibrant conversation with each other. A few years ago when he could not get the congregation's attention back, Cockrell walked over to the center mic and said, "SIT!" That got them quiet, he says, and to this day, he still uses that call-to-attention.
Photograph by Kathy De La Torre
Amanda McBride, 4, and Dylan, find the aisle more interesting than the sermon.
When the moment for the animals to be blessed arrived on Oct. 10, people and pets queued up cheek to jowl to beak and paraded down the center aisle while the whole congregation sang a heartfelt rendition of "All Things Bright and Beautiful." Six or seven members of the clergy stood waiting at the altar for the animals. There they greeted each animal with "Thank you, dear Lord, for Bowser," or Tweety, or Garfield. Often as not the blesser was also blessed with a grateful face-licking.
Cockrell answered the occasional bark with "and with you."
When Cockrell took over as top dog at St. Andrew's seven years ago, a number of eyebrows were raised when he suggested bringing the animals into church (not a new concept to Cockrell, because he'd been doing it for 15 years in his previous parish in Massachusetts, where even cows lumbered into the sanctuary). St. Andrew's parishioners humored him that once and have been hauling their animals to church since.
Photograph by Kathy De La Torre
Jan Miller sits with her two Afghans, Tina and Nicholas, while Golden, a Labrador retriever, waits patiently.
He recalls the very first Sunday, about seven years ago. A couple--jogging by the church just before the service--heard what was going on. They ran home, laid their dying dog in a wagon, wheeled him back to the church and were first up the aisle for a blessing. Cockrell says the dog even gave a meek wag of his tail, and there wasn't a dry eye in the place. The couple gratefully explained to Cockrell that they'd hoped for something like this before their dog died.
Photograph by Kathy De La Torre
Sally, a Samoyed, waits for the human portion of the service to end.
Bringing the animals to church is typically found only in Roman Catholic or Episcopal churches, Cockrell says. And the ceremony is often carried out on the day when the church celebrates St. Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals. However, at St. Andrew's they only have their Blessing the Animals Sunday about every year and a half. "We don't want it to become a hackneyed event," Cockrell says.
Photograph by Kathy De La Torre
Stan Brenner carries his cat, Stanzi, in a carrier to the blessing.
Actually, he says, this tradition comes more out of an ancient English practice called "beating the bounds," in which priests went out to the boundaries of their parish to sprinkle holy water and say prayers over the land, the crops and the animals. Times have certainly changed.
Now instead of beating the bounds they're blessing the hounds and other creatures great and small. After all, animals serve many of our needs, not the least of which is companionship. Why not haul them into God's house and give thanks and raise the roof with glorious song?
Saratoga, California Since 1955
