One evening after supper, I was out front by the old gate house talking to a professor from Temple University in Philadelphia, here on retreat. A lovely Fall evening. In the course of our chat he noticed Brother Christian down at the shadowy end of the avenue with a deer, a fawn. At least he thought that’s what he saw. “Is that a deer with the Brother?” “Yes,” I said casually. “The animals love us monks, you know.” He looked at me for a moment. But then the young deer came trotting up the avenue, came right up to the professor, put his snout in his hand. “You see what I mean?”, I said. Next day we went for a walk together, the professor and I; we went over the hill to the lake. When we got there, I could see a flock of ducks way over on the other side. So I quacked and clapped my hands and in an instant the ducks came skipping over the water to our feet on the shore. “You see what I mean?”, I said. He was quite overcome.

Later, I explained. The deer had been caught, little, by a neighbor. He raised it in his farm yard. Someone reported him and he had to release the animal, by that time people-friendly. And someone had given us a couple dozen of ducklings, fresh and new. They were raised at the kitchen door, fed crumbs and attention by every passing monk. Eventually they were grown and taken to the lake. They never forgot the monks. People-friendly.

Amusing. But as a matter of fact, monks and animals have always been close. Not to mention friars like St. Francis. St. Jerome had his lion from whose paw he withdrew a thorn. There is Don Bosco and his dog. The Fathers of the Desert were famed for kinship with animals. Hermits fed by birds. Benedict spared poisoning. Columba’s horse came and laid his head on the dying monk’s lap.

Hermits are especially related to animals. And for obvious reasons. The hermit is called to purity of heart. When the heart is pure, free of malice, of strife, love of contention and argument, free of anger, lust – the animal reads such a soul and so approaches without fear or antagonism. This is not nonsense. People have learned contemplation from a cat, a cat who will sit in the windowsill for hours in peace and tranquility purring over the situation.

What has that to do with Mary and the Assumption?  A great deal, really.

The body is holy. The flesh immortal. Our bodies, these bodies, will be in eternity. That is: we will be body and soul.

The Assumption is not resurrection. Mary did not die. Her body did not begin disintegration and decay the moment the soul left it. No death. She was and is the perfect fulfillment of Christ’s redeeming grace: “This is what I came to do.” Conceived immaculate. Without sin. Assumed to Heaven. The original dream. The new Eve indeed.

To repudiate that teaching is to belittle the work of Christ.

But Christ, on the contrary, is our Redeemer. Was the guilty One, sin being imputed to Him. He died. And He died wretchedly. For us. The Spokesperson. The Delegate. The Victim.

Mary in Christ fulfilled the original dream. And therefore the Assumption is less a miracle than the Resurrection, for the Resurrection was a victory over death. The Assumption was the original dream recovered through Christ our Lord.

Having some animals around would help us respond in deep faith to these truths. I dare say a coming generation will see to it. God forbid that I should make a suggestion or recommendation. This is but an observation.

A small herd of sheep with a llama to guard them, for the lamb is a witness to a truth we need to see lived: gentle, meek, the Lamb of God.

A batch of chickens would provide us at no great cost real eggs for the infirm. A chicken can teach. So can a cock. What more humble than a laying hen? If a peacock is the glory of Heaven on earth, his wretched voice heard now and then reminds us of the fragile nature of beauty here below. A couple of horses would enliven our grasp of reality. If a boy needs a dog, a man can be said to need a horse.

For animals give a witness that is all the more significant in a mechanical world, a machine world, a computer, electronic world. In moderation, to be sure. Not a project. Not a source of income. Not a hobby. Rather, an interest. A spiritual interest where you can read what a book cannot tell you. Not better than human contact. Not better than human love. Just different. With impact.

If you’ve had a dog, owned a horse, gone fishing, photographed a deer, you know what I mean.

Your grasp of the numinous will bear the marks of your experience. The transcendent can be more technical than real.

The challenge of the Assumption is enormous. That our flesh should attain immortality seems unreal enough in Christ’s Mother, almost absurd in our case.

Take care. An animal can suggest that you may be off. For even they have a kind of spirituality that keys us into our own. A faithful, loyal dog, for example, an obedient horse, a courageous buck, as the man told me, that will defend the herd of bison and elk with awesome courage.

For all that, a simple canary singing its heart out in joy tells more of God than many a text. And reveals a God we are called to love. As today when He did for His Mother and ours, what He would do for all. Animals, too. I hope.  Amen.