Requiem for a pet lizard
Dottie the lizard. Photograph courtesy of Rob Lee.
Rev. Dr. Robert W. Lee
Faithful remembrance is something I believe is innate — and intimate — within us. In the United Methodist liturgy for a funeral, the gathered community prays “Give to us now your grace, that as we shrink before the mystery of death, we may see the light of eternity.” As someone who was raised in the United Methodist tradition, I find that those words have become a companion on my life’s journey. I have had the opportunity to work in a funeral home, sit with the dying as a pastor, and commend them to God in worship leadership many times. Sometimes the deaths were expected, others came as a shock and a tragedy. Death begs us to ask the big questions of life — as if we were a boxer prepping for the final match we know one day will come to us.
The other day my children squared up in the ring as we said goodbye to Dottie, our pet lizard. As I sat with our lizard, I kept saying to the veterinary technician, “This all seems so silly. Big things are happening in our world and here I am, crying over a lizard.” The veterinary technician smiled and responded, “This is a big thing that’s happening in your world, and you have every right to cry.”
I have long opined that animals will receive their just reward for their labors just as we will, though I know the Christian tradition is not of one accord on this matter. Some traditions reserve the restoration and redemption of our selves only to humankind. To me, that seems like we’re underestimating God. The apostle Paul wrote in Romans 8 that the whole of creation groans in eager longing for salvation as it awaits God’s glory. Let me wonder, if the whole of creation can be held under the weight of the sin we committed, along with recognizing through eager longing their salvation, then why wouldn’t God bring to completion in glory those furry, scaly, and creepy-crawly things that our sin held in bondage in the first place? Was not God the one who created those animals in the first place? Do we assume those animals do not bring God delight?
When Jesus spoke of the sparrow falling from the sky, he spoke of God’s knowledge of such a circumstance (Matthew 10:29). I can’t help but imagine that God not only knew that the sparrow fell but was quick to embrace that sparrow in the glory that is yet to be revealed. I believe that what we think of the soteriology of animals speaks volumes for what we think of the love of God. To me, God’s love is so enormous, so all-encompassing, and all-embracing that God’s purpose is not only to bring humankind into the fullness of God’s embrace but that the whole world might once again be freed from the chains of its present condition. That’s a kind of God that is worth following and worshipping, a God that will stop at nothing to bring back to life those things now dead.
To me, God’s love is so enormous, so all-encompassing, and all-embracing that God’s purpose is not only to bring humankind into the fullness of God’s embrace but that the whole world might once again be freed from the chains of its present condition. That’s a kind of God that is worth following and worshipping, a God that will stop at nothing to bring back to life those things now dead.
As we buried Dottie under a light rain, I couldn’t help but think this was not only practice for kids in their grieving process, but real and pressing grief for all of us. It felt real. Death is real, and we try to hide it or gloss over it in the hurried rush of life. But as Emily Dickinson wrote, “Because I could not stop for death, he kindly stopped for me.” We must faithfully address the deaths of those people and creatures in our vicinity and across the globe. We must do our part to share in grief, to acknowledge our loss, and move into God’s unfolding future in such a way that we do our grief and the departed life justice.
Too many Christians are focused on the streets of gold and the color of the drapes in their heavenly abodes these days. Too many funerals have become focused on “saving” those in hearing distance who are considered lost. I just hope my lizard and dogs are wherever I’m headed. Because to me, the ultimate bliss of knowing God is to know that God’s love is bigger than me, stronger than me, and has the ability to bring along all of us into that great love. Marcus Borg writes in his book Speaking Christian, “So, is there an afterlife, and if so, what will it be like? I don’t have a clue. But I am confident that the one who has buoyed us up in life will also buoy us up through death. We die into God. What more that means, I do not know. But that is all I need to know.”[1]
At the end of my life, I imagine that I will have things I wished I had thought about differently, but trusting in the assurance that God will make things right for the entirety of Creation will not be one of them. As I leave this earth, I hope that I will be embraced into the love of God. It’s that same love that I am sure embraced every facet of creation: from my late Uncle John to my pet lizard Dottie. Then we will all turn into the light of God’s love. Creation dies and is raised into God. That’s enough for now. It’s always been enough.
The Rev. Dr. Robert W. Lee is an American Baptist minister and author of six books. He has preached across the world, written for all kinds of media outlets, and appeared on television on CNN, MTV, and ABC’s The View. Visit his website at www.roblee4.com to connect with him.
The views expressed are those of the author and not necessarily those of American Baptist Home Mission Societies.
[1] Borg, Marcus. Speaking Christian: Why Christian Words Have Lost Their Meaning and Power–And How They Can Be Restored. HarperOne. 2014, p. 202.
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