Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Home
Catholic
Family, Parenting and Religion
The Animals’ Sermon

The Animals’ Sermon

Last updated on: August 19, 2024 at 2:03 pm by Mary Pezzulo

0 Comments

The Animals’ Sermon 2024-08-19T14:03:53-04:00 Mary Pezzulo

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

A red male cardinal on a windowsill, with birdseed

image via Pixabay

I couldn’t go to Sunday Mass.

Jimmy would have given us a ride in the Dodge, but I just couldn’t. The religious trauma was too sharp. I couldn’t even sit and read the readings and perform Leccio Divina without getting sick. The readings were all about the Bread from Heaven, and I didn’t want to think about the Eucharist just then.

When I came downstairs for the day it was noon. I heard “chip chip!” calling to me from the dining room windowsill, and went to see my friend the Cardinal. The female Cardinal still comes closer to me than her mate will, but the male Cardinal deigns to visit my windowsill, if the window is shut. I’ve scattered the patio in front of that window with delicious heads from my dried out sunflowers. The bright red cardinal was perched on the largest head, preaching a sermon to me. “Chip chip! Chip chip!”

a red male cardinal on top of a dried out sunflower head

photo by Mary Pezzulo

I wondered what hellfire and brimstone he was promising me.

Next, I went for my walk. The two months of colitis have finally cleared up, but I’m so weak it’s a challenge to take a walk. I willed myself to around two blocks of La Belle, just two blocks, slow as I needed, admiring the trees, stopping for breath when I had to. It was a lovely day for a walk. The ground was still soaked after Saturday’s deluge. The air smelled just a little bit like Autumn. It’ll be hot as it was in July by the end of the week, but Sunday was the beginning of a small cool snap, so it was nice to be outside. I turned down alleys past vacant lots whenever I could. I could pretend the vacant lots were meadows, out in the country where I desperately want to go for a hike.

It wasn’t until I got back that I saw that the live trap I left out for the groundhogs and raccoons had been sprung, and there was something in it.

I tiptoed cautiously up to investigate.

The creature that turned its head to regard me was not a groundhog.

The head was a sharp, triangular head, like the head of a rat in a children’s book. It was attached to a mound of matted and mottled gray hair, about as big as a house cat. There was a long, curled, shiny brown rope which for a horrified moment I thought was a bowel movement, but it was a tail.

It was a possum: the Virginia Opossum, America’s only marsupial, the unofficial mascot of Appalachia. And it was the largest, ugliest Virginia Opossum I’d ever seen.

The possum opened his pink V of a mouth at me, baring his teeth as if he were going to hiss, but he was silent.

“I’m so sorry!” I cried.

It was at that point I realized that I’d had the trap for weeks, but I didn’t know how to open it– nor how I was supposed to keep my hands clear of that serrated mouth if I did. But thankfully, Jimmy the mechanic did. He and his boy got there in about two minutes.

“I don’t know if he’s been in there all night!” I cried in horror. “I just didn’t think to look because I never caught anything before! I was going to return the trap this week but I still don’t have the car to drive it back to the farm! Oh, I hope he isn’t starving! He probably needs water.”

Jimmy’s boy asked if he could put a ripe tomato in the cage, but Jimmy ordered him to stand back. He opened the cage, but the possum did not flee. It only turned that sharp cone of a head to glare at us, baring the teeth once more.

Jimmy turned the cage the opposite way, to face the lilac bush, so the possum would have a sheltered place to run into, but the possum remained still.

Jimmy’s boy asked if he could keep the possum as a pet. He spun a long yarn about the raccoons and rats and groundhogs he already had for pets, which were perfectly safe as long as you had bite-proof gloves and a long leash. I lectured about the benefits of a possum in an organic garden, because they didn’t wreak havoc like a groundhog, and they ate the slugs and other pests. We all backed far away across the yard, hoping the beast would leave the trap, but he didn’t. Jimmy and his boy headed home.

Adrienne and I watched the possum from the back window, waiting for him to move.

I was still afraid that I’d accidentally starved and dehydrated the horrifying creature. I thought perhaps it might be sick. Adrienne recoiled as I googled and read the list of diseases a possum might have. A friend online joked that the possum was probably not leaving because he thought he was in a swank hotel: four walls to protect him, a pile of free food. Luxury, for a backyard marsupial.

I went outside with a cup of water and a piece of zucchini.

“Hello,” I said to the beast.

The possum turned his head to bare those teeth.

I explained that he was free and could leave the trap at any time.

the possum refusing to leave the cage

photo by Mary Pezzulo

I wondered, if Saint Francis had been Appalachian, if he’d have preached a sermon about a stubborn possum who refused to embrace his freedom and instead stayed prisoner in a trap because there was free food in it.

I thought sadly, and then angrily, about my complicated history with Saint Francis and the horrifying things that have been done by his children in his name. Of how I’ll never have a normal life or financial stability, or perhaps be able to walk into a church without anxiety, because of this place and these Franciscans. Of how I’d never be certain that God cared about me again until I saw God face to face, because of the Franciscans here in the Charismatic Renewal.

I thought of that story in the Fioretta, where Saint Francis has a vision that the devil will entice many people who have no business becoming Franciscans into the Order to try and ruin their mission. I wondered whose side Saint Francis would be on if he showed up today. Maybe he wasn’t my enemy. Or, maybe he was furious with me for not standing firm in my faith.

In my head, I named the ugly creature in the trap Giovanni di Pietro de Bernardone. I couldn’t decide if I was doing so to honor Saint Francis or to hurt his feelings.

Giovanni bared his teeth at me as I crouched by the open cage.

“I brought you a snack and some water,” I said, as I set them down at the cage entrance. He didn’t lunge to bite my hand as I’d feared, or even acknowledge it. He kept his eyes on my face.

Just to see what would happen, I grabbed the back of the cage with the tips of my fingers and tilted it. The possum did not slide out. He remained where he was, clinging to the bottom of the cage as if he were glued in.

“All right,” I said. “Well, enjoy your snack.”

I wasn’t all the way across the yard before Giovanni decided to leave the trap, slowly, a picture of wounded dignity. He waddled into the tall grass on the other side of the alley, and remained there.

That evening, the Cardinal was back on the windowsill, preaching his sermon. “Chip chip!” But maybe it wasn’t a scolding. Maybe he was singing me the canticle of Saint Francis: Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Mother Earth, who sustains us and governs us and who produces varied fruits with colored flowers and herbs. Praised be You, my Lord, through those who give pardon for Your love, and bear infirmity and tribulation.

Maybe he was singing that prayer which Saint Francis never said, but which suits him: Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

Mary Pezzulo is the author of Meditations on the Way of the Cross, The Sorrows an d Joys of Mary, and Stumbling into Grace: How We Meet God in Tiny Works of Mercy.

Steel Magnificat operates almost entirely on tips. To tip the author, donate to “The Little Portion” on paypal or Mary Pezzulo on venmo

Family, Parenting and Religion

Home and Religion

Previous Post

August 17, 2024

A Downpour

Next Post

August 19, 2024 On Tacos, Groceries, and the Medal of Honor

Recent Comments

0 | Leave a Comment

"You're talking about supercessionism, the idea that Christians "replace" the covenant that the Jewish people ..."

Alex

Yes, the Old Testament is About ..."

"Oh I'm sure it did."

Mary

A Televised Execution is a Moral, ..."

"For what its worth, it seems like the whole thing originated from Pete Hegsith speaking ..."

Evil-Striker

A Televised Execution is a Moral, ..."

"You may be right. A war and its aftermath are different than day-to-day governance. Still, ..."

Mary

On Traditionalist Bullies, and the Death ..."

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category abortion Abuse Advent America American Christianity angel angels Annunciation Appalachia apparition apparition chaser apparition chasers apparition culture art art review babies baby baby Jesus Bad Lip Reading bad statue contest bath beauty Bible story blog blogkeeping blood book review Brandon Sanderson breastfeeding bus Catholic catholic conspiracy alarmism Catholic Oppositional Disorder Charismatic Renewal Charlie the Cat chastity Christ Christian idenitity Christianity and Judaism Chronic Illness clean clothing COD piece comedy compassion conscience conspiracy theory conversion cop-on-black violence Crucifixion cry of the poor culture Daesh Daily Saints death death penalty devotional diaconate diaper diapers dirty disability Donald Trump Dorothy Day dream drugs Eastern Catholicism Eastern Christianity education election election update Elsewhere on Patheos empathy environment Fear feminism film review fish flashback fluffy buns food Franciscan University of Steubenville Friendship Room fun Gabriel gardening gospel hair-splitting Heaven hell heresy Hillary Clinton history Holly the Witch Holy Spirit holy war Homeschooling homosexuality horror human dignity humor Icon idol immigrants infection inter-religious dialogue Interpretation of Scripture Islam Jesus Jihad Joseph joy laity and lay vocations lamb dinner laundry lent lgbtq literature love manners Mary Medicine and Science Meditation mercy mess milk misogyny Missouri monasticism monster motherhood mourn with those mourn movies movis music mystery nature neurodiversity New Pro-Life Movement news nonsense nostalgia O antiphons obituary objectification Ohio Valley Ordinary Time ordination Ordo Amoris parable paradox Passover peanut butter personal beliefs pets philosophy Planet Charismatic poetry politics polls poop Pope Francis Pope Leo power in the Church prayer prayer request prayers preferential option for non-violence president presidential election priest primary private revelation pro-life prophecy Public face of Catholicism Pure Flix Q and A race racism random rape rape. sexuality reader's request Reckoners refugee religious trauma ressurrection Right to life Saints saints and celebrations same-sex same-sex marriage satire scandal secular feasts seder Seven Joys Seven Last Words sex sexual ethics sexuality silencing six months skid row slavery social justice Speculative fiction spiritual abuse spoon stain story suffering suffrage suffragette Sunday Gospel temple Tenebrae Responsories Terror the exorcist The Friendship Room The New Pro-Life Movement Things I Learned on the Internet tin cup traffic true story tv review Uncategorized USCCB vice and temptation violence Virtue virtue and vice war Way of the Cross whimsy whole life women's ordination work of mercy Year A

Select a Month October 2026 September 2026 August 2026 July 2026 June 2026 May 2026 April 2026 March 2026 February 2026 January 2026 December 2025 November 2025 October 2025 September 2025 August 2025 July 2025 June 2025 May 2025 April 2025 March 2025 February 2025 January 2025 December 2024 November 2024 October 2024 September 2024 August 2024 July 2024 June 2024 May 2024 April 2024 March 2024 February 2024 January 2024 December 2023 November 2023 October 2023 September 2023 August 2023 July 2023 June 2023 May 2023 April 2023 March 2023 February 2023 January 2023 December 2022 November 2022 October 2022 September 2022 August 2022 July 2022 June 2022 May 2022 April 2022 March 2022 February 2022 January 2022 December 2021 November 2021 October 2021 September 2021 August 2021 July 2021 June 2021 May 2021 April 2021 March 2021 February 2021 January 2021 December 2020 November 2020 October 2020 September 2020 August 2020 July 2020 June 2020 May 2020 April 2020 March 2020 February 2020 January 2020 December 2019 November 2019 October 2019 September 2019 August 2019 July 2019 June 2019 May 2019 April 2019 March 2019 February 2019 January 2019 December 2018 November 2018 October 2018 September 2018 August 2018 July 2018 June 2018 May 2018 April 2018 March 2018 February 2018 January 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 July 2017 June 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

What does the name "Elijah" mean?

Select your answer to see how you score.

God Provides The Lord is my God The Chosen One God Saves