A Sermon for Blessing of the Animals
There once lived an Italian friar named Father Francis. Father Francis had the incredible ability to see the presence of God in all things.
Now, friars don’t spend their lives secluded from the outside world; rather, they live among the public, traveling to teach, preach, and serve others. Instead of working for money, they live like the birds in Jesus’ sermon, not sowing or reaping, but depending on the charity of those they served for food and shelter.
One day, while Father Francis and his fellow friars were on the road, they came across an incredible flock of all kinds of birds!
Francis thought they looked to be waiting patiently on him.
So filled with awe at this sight, he ran to them, asking if they would stay awhile and listen to the Word of God.
He proclaimed to this feathery congregation:
“My brother and sister birds, you should praise your Creator and always love him: He gave you feathers for clothes, wings to fly. and all other things that you need. It is God who made you noble among all creatures, making your home in thin, pure air. Without sowing or reaping, you receive God’s guidance and protection.”
At this the birds began to spread their wings, stretch their necks and gaze at Francis, rejoicing and praising God, he thought, in a way befitting birds.
Francis then gave them his blessing, making the Sign of the Cross over them… the in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.
At that they flew off. And Francis rejoined his group, rejoicing and giving thanks to God all the way!
It became Francis’ habit to preach to animals. He must have found the birds especially receptive to the message of God’s love and care for them!
And perhaps the birds reminded him of God’s love and care for him, as he sought to live likewise, without worry, trusting that God would provide what he needed through the generosity of others.
One hundred years later, the German mystic, Meister Eckhart wrote this:
"Every single creature is full of God,
and is a book about God.
If I spent enough time with the tiniest creature
even a caterpillar
I would never have to prepare a sermon
so full of God is every creature.”
Which makes me think that while Francis preached to those birds about God, those birds were also teaching Francis about God.
There is one animal who has probably taught me more about God than any other. And I’m sorry it’s not my own pup…
It was a golden retreiver named Anna, and we were co-workers at the University of Michigan Hospital.
Anna was the official Dog Chaplain of the Department for Spiritual Care. She even had her own staff photo on our website!
Anna was also one of the 6 therapy dogs who served in our Paws4Patients Program, providing companionship, comfort, joy, and love to patients and staff across the hospital.
Golden retrievers are known for their gentle and friendly demeanor, and Anna was the best of them. She lit up any room she walked into. She was our single most requested chaplain on staff.
Anna taught me a lot about being a chaplain that summer. And although I may have never been as cute as her, she showed me the power of presence.
We don’t always need the right words for someone who is sick, hurting, grieving, or angry. We can offer our presence. We can listen. We can hold space for the other to put down all they are carrying.
Anna embodies what theologian Henri Nouwen called being a “wounded healer.”
The summer I worked at the hospital, Anna was diagnosed with cancer.
To say that all of us humans were a wreck when we heard the news would be an understatement.
In the early stages of her treatment, Anna’s moms, who both worked at chaplains in our office, decided to put her on bed rest. She began spending more time around the office, making fewer visits to patients as her energy slowly diminished.
That also happened to be the summer when I got sick myself.
Many of you have heard this story before, the summer I spent going from doctor to doctor, searching for some explanation for a mysterious illness.
As Anna’s energy decreased, so did mine. And as I became increasingly anxious and depressed by what was happening to my body, Anna remained a bright light at work.
She became my companion in misery.
Nouwen writes,
“Nobody escapes being wounded. We all are wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually.”
But for Nouwen, our wounds do not prevent us from becoming sources of healing. In fact, they can become the very places from which healing can happen.
To Nouwen, Jesus was our great example and teacher. He describes Jesus as God’s “wounded healer.” The risen Christ does not return with every scar erased. Christ still bears the wounds of the cross—and somehow, through those wounds, healing comes to us.
As followers of Jesus, we are invited to discover that our wounds, too, can become places through which we offer compassion, companionship, and healing to others.
That summer, Anna's wounds helped heal some of mine.
Anna reminded me that a life does not have to be free from pain to be full of grace. She reminded me that God still provides blessings upon blessings in the mess of life.
This past year, Anna died at nine years old, three years after that first bout with cancer.
After her death, the Paws4Patients team wrote this about her:
“Anna was more than a facility dog. She was a source of hope during difficult times, a calming friend in moments of stress, a sneaky snack stealer if you were not paying attention, and a beloved member of our Michigan Medicine family. Her legacy lives on in the smiles she inspired and the hearts she helped heal—patients, families, and colleagues alike.”
When I die, I hope my obituary sounds half as good as Anna’s.
I think St. Francis would have also loved Anna.
There are many wonderful stories about Francis’s special relationship with animals: noisy birds who quieted as he prayed; a rabbit who hopped into his lap as if in gratitude after Francis freed her from a trap; fish who swam close to his boat to hear him preach.
And perhaps most dramatically, there is the story of Francis taming a wolf that had been terrorizing a village where he was staying.
Today, Father Francis is remembered as St. Francis in the Catholic and Episcopal traditions. And around this Sunday, our siblings in Christ remember this patron saint of animals and the environment near the anniversary of his death in October 1226. This year marks 800 years since his death.
Presbyterians do not officially recognize saints in quite the same way, but like many Christians we paid increasinly more attention to St. Francis's. His witness is simply too important—and too timily—to ignore.
Right now we are living through a period of extraordinary loss of biodiversity, the 6th Great Extinction, as scientists call it, as human development, habitat destruction, pollution, and human-caused climate change threaten species across the globe.
At the very same time, we are learning more and more about the extraordinary relationships human beings can form with other creatures—and about the physical, emotional, and psychological benefits nature animal companions can bring into our lives.
Nature and animals can literally HEAL us!
Which feels particularly appropriate today, of all Sundays, because today is the first day of Mental Illness Awareness Week which we observe in the Presbyterian Church and as a nation.
It is a week intended to increase our understanding of mental illness, challenge the stigma surrounding it, and remind those who are struggling do not have to do so alone.
The church has important things to say about this issue, but we must also acknowledge that the church has not always gotten it right about mental health.
Too many Christians have been taught that anxiety means you are not trusting God enough. That depression means you have somehow lost joy in the Lord. That if your faith were just a little stronger, if you prayed a little harder, if you counted your blessings more faithfully, you would not feel the way you do.
Friends, that is not Gospel!
Scripture itself is filled with faithful people experiencing the whole range of human anguish. The prophet Elijah becomes so overwhelmed that he lies beneath a tree and asks to die. The psalmists cry out, wishing he'd never been born! Jesus weeps. He tells his friends that his soul is overwhelmed with sorrow. From the cross he cries out to God, "Why have you forsaken me?"
Their suffering did not make them faithless, and neither does ours.
Sometimes faithful people are anxious and depressed. Sometimes faithful people need therapy and medication. Sometimes faithful people need to rest, to ask for help, or simply to have somebody—or perhaps some creature—sit beside them for a while.
In the midst of that messy, miserable, and yet miraculous summer, Anna taught me that God was still with me. That God blesses our mess. And that Christ's own suffering, he brings healing to the world, to every creature, to each one of us.
Francis understood something eight centuries ago that we are still learning: we belong with all the rest of Creation. The birds, the fish, the rabbits, and even the wolves are all our siblings. Thus, their wellbeing is tied to the wellbeing of us all.
So today, on this day, let us give thanks for our fellow creatures. And let us commit to the healing of our common home!
Thanks be to God.
Sermon preached by Rev. Delaney Piper on 10/4/2026.
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