Feline theology – part one

What my cat taught me about God by Brenda Smith

I

f all creation sings out the glory of God, then cats are included in the massed choir. I’ve studied Old Testament and systematic theology, but for me, all those ideas and discussions surrounding orthodoxy are made real through everyday encounters and relationships, like those with my cat.

During her prime, Taylor, my cat, was an excellent mouser. She kept our home free of those little furry creatures for years, dropping every conquest off on the back step. Living within a couple of blocks of the Assiniboine River [one of two rivers that meet in Winnipeg, Canada], her skill was a valued asset to the family. But as Taylor got older, her expertise as a hunter began to suffer. Instead of hunting rodents, Taylor took to hunting Beanie Babies. Proudly she would carry “Bongo” or “Tiny” in her mouth, lay them at my feet and await her well earned praise: Good Taylor. Good girl. You did a good job. Thank you, old girl.

Don’t ask me how I made the connection. All I can say is that the Spirit moves in mysterious ways, but Taylor’s gift to me of Beanie Babies is so much like my gift of worship to God. I prance around proudly with songs and scriptures and prayers dangling from clenched teeth and plop them in front of God awaiting that well-earned pat on the head for all my well-earned service. I’ve worked hard at this. I’ve made it a major component of my studies. Yet, I completely miss the point and forget about the grace that envelopes the whole thing: Good Brenda. Good girl. You did a good job. Thank you, old girl.

Christ takes that mangled mess that plopped from my mouth and mysteriously sanctifies it, and presents it to the Father on my behalf, who accepts it as if it was as perfect as the worship of heaven.

As with those Beanie Babies, all I ever bring to worship are shadows of the real thing, no matter how perfect and awesome I may feel my contribution is. The real thing lies in heaven around the throne of God, the thing I just get to glimpse at, as if through a glass darkly when I participate in worship down here on earth.

Good Taylor. Good girl. You did a good job. Thank you, old girl.

Thank you for teaching me not to take myself too seriously. To understand once again, I am human, dust in fact – wonderfully made, yes, but dust just the same. Sometimes, dust hides in the shadows and shapes itself in odds ways, fooling you into thinking this grey mass is that sock you thought you lost. But closer examination quickly finds just a dust bunny. And while I suppose dust has its best intentions, it is rather grimy and itchy and makes you sneeze. It needs a major clean up.

All creation declares the glory of God. Even us dust creatures and cats. Thanks be to the God who is in Christ redeeming the dust, the cats, our worship and the whole world.

Writer: Major Brenda Smith has served in local Salvation Army congregations for fourteen years as a corps officer/pastor. While she has given leadership in other areas of ministry in The Salvation Army, it has been as a corps officer that she has found herself most challenged, particularly in the area of corporate worship. Why do people come to church and why do they come back? Finding the answer to these questions has embarked her on a lifelong quest leading her to pursue a master’s degree in worship studies. Brenda is currently Assistant Professor of Worship & Christian Ministries Program Coordinator at the Army’s Booth College in Winnipeg, Canada.

Part two will appear on theRubicon next Tuesday.
Feline Theology was first published in The Order, a Booth College student-run newsletter.
Reprinted with permission.

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