Francis would have cringed
Guénady
October 26, 2008
October 4th is the day when the faithful, and animal lovers especially, celebrate the birthday of Francis of Assisi, the patron saint of animals. And traditionally in France, a formerly Catholic country, the feast of St Francis includes, in churches everywhere, a benediction reserved for 4-and 2-legged, or webbed, winged, furry and scaly companion animals...
The Church does not speak of, and presumably does not include in this benediction, any of the billions of animals raised for food, nor any of the hundreds of thousands shut up in laboratory cages around the world.
This bit of selective reasoning was highlighted in Nice this year, when Christian Razeau, a local political activist with a long-standing demand on the table of the local City Council for a beach with access for dogs, called a protest outside of the Nice church where the traditional blessing was to be celebrated. Razeau's reason for calling the protest was that, according to the program, the blessing was scheduled for the afternoon, after the 11 o'clock Mass and the sausage barbeque scheduled to followed it.
This article's author went along, onto Church grounds, in order to confirm that the sausage barbeque did in fact take place. While there, I politely questioned the Curé about his blessing, and the appropriateness of scheduling it after such a barbeque, on a day set aside to give homage to Francis, a well-known vegetarian, and homage also to his love for animals. To my inquiry, the Curé nonchalantly replied, 'I bless animals and I also eat them... Where's the problem?'
I explained to the Curé that the animals' patron, Francis, loved animals too much to eat them. This declaration provoked the Curé to exclaim, 'You know nothing about it!'
I brought up the fact that the Law given to us by God (to use the Curé's language) says unequivocably, 'Thou shalt not kill.' Period. This incited the tall, red-faced, wide-girthed man, unmistakeably a bon-vivant, to object, 'But that's the Old Testament, it's been replaced by the New Testament!' Does that mean we don't have to obey the Ten Commandments anymore?
The Curé finally turned away, making dismissive gestures with his hand, telling me I ought not to have come on such a day, to 'spoil' their feast. The feast, of course, was already spoiled for all the animals that had gone into making the sausages being grilled beside us, as we spoke. As I could see that conversation between us was not really possible, I finally announced that I was going to leave. Needless to say, the Curé gladly let me go...
But we faced each other again, a short time later, when the benediction was carried out. The Curé came to the rectory door, where the ceremony was being held, stationing three men there, as guards, to keep us out, although we were not trying to force our way in. They told us, 'We belong here, you don't.' Considering that this was spoken at the entry into the Church rectory, and that the Church is considered the House of God, where the doors are supposed to be open to all, this statement did indeed surprise us.
Razeau's simple statement of our objection to the benediction after a barbeque, on a day intended to honor Francis of Assisi and his love for animals, had been printed out and was being distributed to all who passed by on the street, and also to all those who came to enter with their animal companions, for the blessing. The half-page statement was immediately confiscated at the door by the Curé's gorrillas, before people were allowed inside. It is hard to believe that such a mentality has anything to do with Francis, or with Jesus, who often referred his Father's love for all creatures ('What you do to the most insignificant of my creatures, you do it unto me.').
The author left the protest a bit early, after the benediction, when the assembly was breaking up, and when some of those inside came out and immediately joined the protestors, expressing agreement and support. I felt I had to get back to my own animals, three rescued dogs waiting patiently for me in my car, parked nearby, where I could keep an eye on it.
As I drove off, I saw the Curé come out again, an imposing man, belly evidently filled up with grilled dead-animal-flesh, and dressed all in white satin with gold trim, contrasting with his flushed face. He enjoyed heckling the protestors, loudly proclaiming his outspoken beliefs, intended as provocations. Such a waste of energy! Such a distance from the spirit of Francis, or Jesus!
Rendez-vous next year? Same time, same place...
The Church does not speak of, and presumably does not include in this benediction, any of the billions of animals raised for food, nor any of the hundreds of thousands shut up in laboratory cages around the world.
This bit of selective reasoning was highlighted in Nice this year, when Christian Razeau, a local political activist with a long-standing demand on the table of the local City Council for a beach with access for dogs, called a protest outside of the Nice church where the traditional blessing was to be celebrated. Razeau's reason for calling the protest was that, according to the program, the blessing was scheduled for the afternoon, after the 11 o'clock Mass and the sausage barbeque scheduled to followed it.
This article's author went along, onto Church grounds, in order to confirm that the sausage barbeque did in fact take place. While there, I politely questioned the Curé about his blessing, and the appropriateness of scheduling it after such a barbeque, on a day set aside to give homage to Francis, a well-known vegetarian, and homage also to his love for animals. To my inquiry, the Curé nonchalantly replied, 'I bless animals and I also eat them... Where's the problem?'
I explained to the Curé that the animals' patron, Francis, loved animals too much to eat them. This declaration provoked the Curé to exclaim, 'You know nothing about it!'
I brought up the fact that the Law given to us by God (to use the Curé's language) says unequivocably, 'Thou shalt not kill.' Period. This incited the tall, red-faced, wide-girthed man, unmistakeably a bon-vivant, to object, 'But that's the Old Testament, it's been replaced by the New Testament!' Does that mean we don't have to obey the Ten Commandments anymore?
The Curé finally turned away, making dismissive gestures with his hand, telling me I ought not to have come on such a day, to 'spoil' their feast. The feast, of course, was already spoiled for all the animals that had gone into making the sausages being grilled beside us, as we spoke. As I could see that conversation between us was not really possible, I finally announced that I was going to leave. Needless to say, the Curé gladly let me go...
But we faced each other again, a short time later, when the benediction was carried out. The Curé came to the rectory door, where the ceremony was being held, stationing three men there, as guards, to keep us out, although we were not trying to force our way in. They told us, 'We belong here, you don't.' Considering that this was spoken at the entry into the Church rectory, and that the Church is considered the House of God, where the doors are supposed to be open to all, this statement did indeed surprise us.
Razeau's simple statement of our objection to the benediction after a barbeque, on a day intended to honor Francis of Assisi and his love for animals, had been printed out and was being distributed to all who passed by on the street, and also to all those who came to enter with their animal companions, for the blessing. The half-page statement was immediately confiscated at the door by the Curé's gorrillas, before people were allowed inside. It is hard to believe that such a mentality has anything to do with Francis, or with Jesus, who often referred his Father's love for all creatures ('What you do to the most insignificant of my creatures, you do it unto me.').
The author left the protest a bit early, after the benediction, when the assembly was breaking up, and when some of those inside came out and immediately joined the protestors, expressing agreement and support. I felt I had to get back to my own animals, three rescued dogs waiting patiently for me in my car, parked nearby, where I could keep an eye on it.
As I drove off, I saw the Curé come out again, an imposing man, belly evidently filled up with grilled dead-animal-flesh, and dressed all in white satin with gold trim, contrasting with his flushed face. He enjoyed heckling the protestors, loudly proclaiming his outspoken beliefs, intended as provocations. Such a waste of energy! Such a distance from the spirit of Francis, or Jesus!
Rendez-vous next year? Same time, same place...
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