August
1994
Letter
from the Editor
By Martin
Rowe
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The other day, Cardinal O’Connor commentated in Catholic New York
on the disappearance and eventual discovery of Tabitha — the
cat who endured a number of days on board an airplane and who was found,
dehydrated, but thankfully alive. He claimed incredulity that millions
were praying for the survival of the cat when thousands of human fetuses
were being killed every day. In response a friend and I wrote him a
letter. This is what we said:
"Dear Cardinal O’Connor: We noted your concern in Catholic
New York and wish to voice our concern as to its tenor.
"As God says to Noah in Genesis: ‘I am establishing my covenant
with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature
that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal
of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark.’ (NRSV:
Gen. 9:9-10)
"God’s will is that we should take care of the animals, who
are in our trusteeship. As they were rescued from the ark, so we should
do our utmost to rescue them from similar confinements. We — human
and non-human animals alike — are God’s creatures; God
looks down upon us with equal concern as the passage from Genesis makes
clear.
It is a covenant for all of us.
"As advocates for non-violence ourselves, we were dismayed to see
you so cavalier about the life of an individual; we were amazed you
were so dismissive of the millions of human beings who also care about
life on this planet. Compassion should extend to all living beings;
if you care about life, you should care about Tabitha. They are not
mutually exclusive. Tabitha’s owner, the people who rescued her,
and all those interested in Tabitha’s welfare were performing
God’s will: they were part of the covenant. You should be too."
Cardinal O’Connor would do well to read the inspiring story by
Claudia Emerson in this issue of Satya. Claudia’s belief in the
power of prayer and her love for animals are intimately bound up, one
with the other. It is hard not to see God as responding to her because
of whom she loves as well as the quality of that love. And that is
how
all who want to change society should reach out; the two recent animal
advocacy conferences reported on in these pages confirm the need to
make connections with other social justice movements and to push for
peaceful change.
Unfortunately, like so much of the rhetoric aimed at those who consider
themselves advocates for animals, Cardinal O’Connor’s statement
is soaked in the irrational fear that if (or because) we love and care
for animals we cannot care for human beings — and the recently
published New Catechism for the Roman Catholic Church confirms this.
Yet, no less a person than the founder of the Christian Church —
St. Paul himself — wrote to the church at Corinth: "There
is nothing love cannot face; there is no limit to its faith, its hope,
and its endurance. Love will never come to an end." (NEB: 1 Cor.
13.7-8)
As I write, one person is dying of cholera every minute on the borders
of Rwanda and Zaire. It is a tragic situation; one worthy of our and
Cardinal O’Connor’s attention. But also worthy of that attention
are the 11,500 animals killed in that same length of time. What joins
both of these tragedies is the systemic unconcern about the livelihood
of those who have for centuries provided the labor and resources for
the first world. Add to this the fact that the grain fedto futilly inflate
the animal population could instead be spent supplying the one-a-minute
with food. That is the topsy-turvy world Cardinal O’Connor should
be protesting.
Paul knew the boundlessness of love. To say it is limited — a
slop-pot of good feelings which mustn’t be spilled — is
to deny our capabilities and complexities. It is to limit the love
we
can offer to other human beings as well as to other animals; that fierce
tenderness that sees suffering and wishes to stop it. To ignore it
or
bring help too late is a sin. That is the lesson of Tabitha and the
tragedy of Rwanda; andthat is the sin to wich Cardinal O'Connor should
pay attention.
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