Before I start, a “brief pause that refreshes” . . . brought to you by the “Altars in the World” crew from yesterday’s hike in Staunton State Park.
I’ve mentioned several times—although not all of you may have heard it—that, for a number of years, I taught a course at the University of Denver called “Pets, Partners or Pot-roast”. (I won’t apologize for repeating myself, because “good stories” can be used in a variety of situations!) A brief description of the course might be: “How do we (as humans) interact with our non-human neighbors”. Class sessions were devoted to: “Animals in the Environment”, “Service Animals”, “Animals in Research”, “Animals as Livestock”, “Animals as Pets”, and “Animals as Food”. They were all GREAT, lively, discussions! But they were not conducted randomly . . . that is, outside of any theoretical context.
We began with three sessions devoted to the question of how we distinguish our human animal-nature from non-human animal-nature. In short, “What makes us “different” from our dog/cat or the cow/chicken/fish that was last night’s dinner?”. We discussed how religions draw the distinction (think, for example, of our biblical traditions and the order of creation)? How has philosophy drawn a distinction (if Descartes was right, for example, and “I think, therefore I am” is a marker of human-ness, do animals “think” . . . and, if so?). And, finally, can a distinction be drawn scientifically or on the basis of evolution (consider: “How many DNA chromosomes does it take to make a difference?”). We found no “easy” answers to the questions!
You . . . ponder for a moment: “What does make humans distinct from non-human animals?” For a long time it was “tool-use”—i.e., humans use tools. Well, so do monkeys! Then it was “play”—but crows play! With regard to Descartes and self-reflectivity, are we the only “animals” that “know ourselves”? Research reflected by the “mirror (or rouge)” test says “No.” So, how are we distinct? That question dogged (pardon the pun) the class for ten weeks. As I said the last time I talked about this class, my intent was not to convert students from being meat-eaters to being vegans, or to get them to join People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. I—full disclosure—still love my burgers, and I don’t belong to PETA. My goal was simply to encourage students to think about our, human, place in the wider context of “creatureliness”. As the class went on, and we discussed the various areas in which we interact with non-human animals, the distinction lines became very blurry. (To be sure this will not devolve into a discussion of whether or not we look like our pets!)
I couldn’t help but think of that class, and the distinctions we struggled to make between “humans” and “animals”, when I read our passage from Paul’s letter to the Romans. I certainly understand Paul wrote as a “human” to “humans”—and reflected an attitude that, probably, we all “assume”, or, at least, understand. But, at root, I believe the issues raised in “Pets, Partners or Pot-roast” and Paul’s counsel to the Romans are related, that is: “Who—or what—is important, and who—or what—isn’t?” Or, using the language Paul uses, “Who’s strong and who’s weak . . . and which position rules . . . and who decides?”
Reflecting on this over the last week, I was struck by two (related) areas of overlap—both having to do with the question of “weak” and “strong”. The first, perhaps akin to Paul’s concern, is how we deal with folks who differ from us on how we understand our relationship to non-human animals: “who’s weak and who is strong”—that is, the weak may be those who have no qualms about exterminating wolves, and the strong are those who are very pro-wolf. The other is how we (as humans) see our relationship to “animals” — that is, again, “who’s weak and who is strong”—that is, who sees us little different than our non-human neighbors, and those who are certain that there is a vast difference. (And, by the way, I recognize that weak and strong may be identified differently, depending on which group one identifies with).
The question of “weak” and “strong” seems to be a constant among us as humans—and we certainly see it among early Christians. It had long been defined as Israelites vs. their geographical neighbors; questions of “chosen-ness” or “purity” differentiated Jews (the strong) from Gentiles (the weak). But, as the gospel spread beyond its Jewish “homeland”, the question of full inclusion of Gentiles into the Christian community gained importance. And, as we read in the book of Acts, Paul (as well as Peter) championed the Gentiles’ cause with the Jerusalem leaders, eventuating in the “relaxation” of some legal conformity for Gentiles (Acts 15.20). The boundaries between weak or strong began to change contours.
The new Christian congregations didn’t change their natures over night. And, in Rome, there could have been debates among the strong and the weak: specifically, whether or not the sabbath and food rules should be kept. The strong were those, apparently, who seemed to be ready to accept “freedoms” offered by the gospel. The weak, on the other hand—for whatever reason—felt that observing sabbath/holy-days was important. They also were uncomfortable going to the local butcher shops—usually associated with the temples of the Roman gods; the rules of kosher did not permit that.
Paul doesn’t align with either group. He doesn’t fall into the trap of agreeing that one group is more important than the other, that one group is “right”. On the contrary, he appeals to something deeper—more important—than being “right”. He points an underlying connection: Christ died for all. Recognize differences, but do not see them as divisive, but, rather, as a diversity reflective of the Body of Christ—as he’d argued in Romans 12 (vv 3-8). . . a diverse body from which we can learn.
(To be clear, there certainly were issues that Paul saw as non-negotiable. Those who demanded circumcision, or those who “proclaimed Christ” for their own financial gain, needed correction, or to be expelled from the community. Paul wasn’t calling for a “big happy family”—but he did recognize that there were some issues that ought be seen as being under the larger tent of love.)
This can expand, easily, into the other area of strong and weak—that is humans and “animals”. In “Pets, Partners or Pot-roast”, we recognized that there were significant differences between “us” and “them”. On the negative side, for example, we humans go to war; most “animals”—while fighting for their own, individual, territory—don’t band together against another group. On the other side, we are much more mobile than most other species (well, perhaps except the Arctic Tern that travels 55,000 miles every year under it’s own steam). And, we have the ability to affect (either positively, or negatively) global climate/habitat issues. Given those differences, does that make us “stronger”? Do we read the Genesis creation stories in such a way that privileges our position over that of other species—whether individually or as a whole? And, if so, does that mean that we can do what we want with those who are “weak”?
Using Paul’s logic, the answer seems to be “No.” While our relationship with non-humans animals isn’t defined by Christ’s death on our behalf, it is defined by the relationship we all have with our common Creator. God—according to our creation stories—brought us all forth to be part of the same earth. In the first creation story in Genesis (1.1-2.4), we were all to be part of a very good creation; our human task was to ensure that the rest of creation was able to thrive! In the second story (2.5 ff), it was to be in a productive relationship with each other; God brought forth “animals” to be companions for the first human. Inter-relationship was at the core; diversity was at the core. There wasn’t the dividing line between weak and strong that we’ve come to accept; we don’t get to decide who’s weak or strong. God has already “done that”—sweeping the distinctions under the rug. “All God’s creatures”, as the children’s song declares, “have a place in the choir”. We’re all necessary to sing a cosmic hymn of praise.
Distinctions between weak and strong are distinctions we make—assuming we know what is important; we do it, mostly, to suit ourselves. Our theology, however, claims that our human differences need be carefully examined—held up to the light of Christ on the cross—to see who, if anyone, is subject to exclusion. Our theology, too, claims that God's care for creation extends beyond humanity. All creatures were charged to be fruitful and to multiply; none were charged to dominate. We humans were charged, simply, to be good stewards of the rest of creation. We need be very careful, lest we cast aside God’s gift of diversity—human and/or creaturely—for some alternate—perhaps demonic—idea of domination and superiority.
Amen.