The Blackbird My Brother, The Lion My Friend
The wild saints of old loved their fellow creatures - and the creatures loved them back.
From time to time, my essays presuppose a distinctly Christian worldview and belief. This is one of those. I don’t expect everyone to like, and certainly not agree, with what I have written here. That is fine. I delight that I have readers from many different worldviews and wish for Over the Field to be an open house: where people can come with their differences, pushbacks, and agreements too (for writers do like it when some people agree with them!). But you have been warned, this essay is more explicitly “Christian” than I usually write. And even for Christians (especially perhaps those like me who call themselves reformed), things might be about to get a little unusual…
For those who wish to follow, let us begin our journey — out into the wilderness.
The saints of old adored their fellow creatures, and their fellow creatures loved them back. To this, we must return.
Such mutual love radiates off each and every page of a special, old book I have been dipping into: Helen Waddell’s wonderful translation of Beasts and Saints. This is a carefully curated set of accounts dating from the early centuries after Christ till the Middle Ages of the miraculous interactions between saints and the creatures that surrounded them, creatures who shared their home out in the deserts, deep in the forests, or exposed on the coasts. It becomes extremely apparent when reading these accounts that there existed an affinity of extraordinary depth, affection, and mutuality between these men and their beasts. Such a profound affinity can scarcely be found in our modern age: an age where man and beast appear to be in perpetual conflict, an age where the cumulative effects of the Fall run deep and wide.1
Granted, we have today our loyal pets, but these are domesticated beasts, conditioned to lavish us with affection and depend on us for their care. And though it would be amiss of me to ignore the affection some other cultures and religions have towards the rest of Creation, what distinguishes the accounts in Waddell’s book from all other man-animal relationships is firstly, the sense of holiness that underpins the relationships and secondly, the very nature the beasts showing the affection. These were no domesticated creatures these saints of old had their dealings with: they were wild, ravaging beasts that could tear limb from limb or were creatures which would normally flee at the merest sight of a human face. For these creatures to become friends with the saints is extraordinary, suggestive of a profound relationship both have with their Maker. A glimpse, a foretaste perhaps, of a world made new, holy, and whole.
We are introduced in these precious pages to the best of stories: to penitent wolves giving old saints much comfort, to lions eating out of the prayerful hands of holy men and mourning beside their graves. We read of otters drying Cuthbert’s feet, and Kevin letting the blackbird nest in his outstretched arms. And who can forget Coleman’s merry band of helpers: the cock that served to wake him for prayer, the mouse that roused him from his temptations to lie-in, and the fly that guided his weary eyes across the pages of Scripture.
Marvellous stories, wonderful stories — stories of the way things should be.
But what are these noises I hear coming on the winds, growing ever louder as they approach the outer recesses of my mind? Oh, how predictable, the sounds of doubts reverberating off the walls of modernity. I guess they must be answered.
We live in an age of scepticism (or perhaps more actually a world of disbelief) so the inevitable question that is dying to be begged is “did these phenomenal accounts really happen?” Surely, they are so unusual, so unnatural, so bizarre, that they must be mere myths: quaint fables that never actually happened. Makes sense, doesn’t it?
A rationalist will easily come to such a conclusion, and I am ashamed to say that until recently, I would have numbered myself amount these “enlightened” sceptics. But being exposed to the writings of
did something to me — as the writings of all masterful writers should. A wilder Christianity beckoned, one where the world is charged and infused with an active, working God making all things new; a world full of mystery, wonder, and the unexpected, all the magnificent outworking of a Holy God who works through the Creation He has made. The possibility of such a world being more real than the sceptically-reduced world I philosophically inherited forced me to put my scepticism in the dock — and interrogate it thoroughly.What better way to interrogate scepticism than with the truth. It is no wonder, then, that I turned to where truth categorically is to be found — Scripture. What I found here was a world that looked wild, charged with grandeur and miracle; a world where scepticism and unbelief evaporate as one is exposed to the workings of the thrice holy God in His creation. On these sacred, truthful pages, we find plenty of encounters where animals served the saints: Ravens delivering food to lonely, downtrodden prophets; lions sleeping tenderly around Daniel; donkeys rebuking wicked, wayward prophets. If God used His creatures to convivially interact with and serve His people in the times of Scripture, why do I doubt the same could happen today? Nothing is different: God is still the Maker and Ruler of all creatures, and He has not changed. He can still put His creatures to work in the service of the saints today if He desires. And there are few more delightful ways for Him to work — for in these accounts we witness a prelude to that great and wonderful Day where the wolf will lie with the lamb and the boy and the cobra shall play together.2 We witness a brief but poignant reminder that the world is headed towards the future — when the great rift between creation and man is healed and everything is as it was intended to be. A world made new, a world without end.
The evidence from Scripture seems clear. The key witness has spoken. There is nothing in the Truth to suggest these stories are untrue. And there is more that speaks in their favour. The saints themselves. As I cross-examined these stories in my mind, I dwelt on the character of the saints themselves. What I realised was that I am dealing with men who would have considered fabricating stories about themselves as lying. Sin. I realised what a great charge I was levelling at these holy men in my disbelief of them. I shuddered at the thought.
Thus, considering all the evidence, I withdrew my case against them — and revelled in the thought that God still works like this today.
Why is it though that I disbelieved for so long? Why was my initial reaction scepticism? Undoubtedly, I am more a child of the age of enlightenment than I realise, and its pervasive influence in the make-up of the philosophical air I breathe is nigh on impossible to avoid. This in turn, has fundamentally shaped what I, and almost everyone around me, perceives as natural. What I see with my eyes every day is what I believe to be natural: Birds fleeing from me as a walk the streets, lions on the TV ripping flesh from flesh, and men and women the world over laying waste to creation. This is the “natural order of things”. The irrevocable laws of the jungle. The way things are.
The way fallen things are. That is more accurate. Eden was the standard and Eden is the definition of natural. Since the fateful day when man desired to be like God,3 everything we experience is a corruption of the natural — and what is this but the definition of unnatural? We live in an unnatural world, a world where everything is not as it should be. We have never seen what natural truly is. And we can’t go back to it — the flaming Cherubim made sure of that — we can only go forward.
As we go on in this fallen, unnatural world we find nature is no longer wholly benevolent to us, and we are no longer benevolent and caring stewards of it. Our default setting seems to be towards the destruction, abuse, and neglect of creation and our fellow creatures. A long history of extinction, over-exploitation, and environmental degradation stands against us in damnable testimony.4 An unbreachable rift has formed between us and the rest of creation, epitomised in those solemn words pronounced at the moment the rift split: “cursed is the ground because of you”.
The world has never been the same since. It has been subject to relentless decay and futility. The ground was set in Eden for the Amazon to shrink, for the passenger pigeon to be exterminated, for Foot and Mouth disease to ravage livestock, for man-eaters to stalk the jungle, and for the Black Death to annihilate 50 million souls. This is the world we have inherited: the unnatural, fallen world of plague, deforestation, and extinction. A world where death and decay rule supreme, a world where we one day will return to the dust.
But that is not the end of the story. The future is coming. The natural shall return. A New Creation where man and beast will dwell in harmony, where wise and sustainable use of creation’s resources will prevail, and where those of us who love Him now will see Him in all His perfection — God.
It is worth repeating, therefore, that in these accounts of the saints and their wild friends, we see a glimpse of the way things were meant to be — and one day will be. A prelude to the Great Restoration of All Things. The setting of all things right. The New Creation.
Their truthfulness asserted in my mind, I can no longer view these stories of the wild saints as quaint little encounters whose only merit is in their intrinsic beauty of prose and, perhaps, in the morals they instil. No, these accounts are ideals to strive for, to believe in, and to lead us to worship God. They could really have happened and could happen again. I can think of few more pleasant miracles than those, which serve in their operation, to restore the ancient bond once broken: between man and the beasts, in friendship, in unity.
When we are reminded through these stories that one day we will be restored into convivial fellowship with the rest of creation, it should influence today how we interact with the beasts around us. The wild saints are again, our wisest guides. They loved their fellow creatures dearly. Yes, they exercised dominion over their animal friends (it was clearly a relationship of master and subordinate) and yes, the wild saints used creation for their own benefit (as they had right to). But their dominion and use were characterised by love and true care — much the way that God has dominion over their own lives5. And it was a hierarchy characterised by lowliness not loftiness, the gulf between man and beast being small as it is. The lion was a true and loyal friend, and the Blackbird was, in a sense, a brother — a fellow creature made to glorify the Maker, though only man could call Him father.
This convivial and loving relationship between man and beast would have influenced how the saints of old interacted with the natural world around them — and this is what I want to leave you with. You can’t call someone a friend while laying waste to their home and certainly not whilst causing them needless harm. And though we don’t read that these saints were vegetarians (Jesus Himself was not),6 they would have been respectful and kind to the animals they consumed, treating them with dignity and no hint of cruelty or waste.
Thus, in a fallen world that through our own misguided, sinful actions, erodes and decays with each passing year, where creatures that are unique masterpieces of their Maker’s handiwork become extinct with metronomic regularity, and where pollution’s pervasive stench permeates evermore the very fabric of creation, these wild saints of old have much to teach us. They can instruct us in how to truly care for the rest of creation, a disposition that is sadly still foreign to much of modern Christianity.
But that is for another essay…
This week is the week of my birthday. As such, I am offering a discount on my paid subscription which (almost) reflects my age. This will give you full access to all my essays, Wendell Berry Reading Group, and natural history reflections.
This conflict includes over-hunting and extinction, pests in agriculture, invasive species, zoonotic diseases, blood sports, human predation, and more.
Isaiah 11.
Genesis 3
See Mark Stoll’s book Profit, An Environmental History.
See Ed Brown’s essay on Ruling God’s World Gods Way. Dominion in Psalm 8. in Creation Care and the Gospel [eds.] Bell, C. and White, R.S.
And neither, it must be said, am I.
It's not just that "enlightened" minds see us as unenlightened, they fail to see many of their own views as flights of fancy. Much of the multi-billion-year age of the universe rests on guesswork based on the realization that if the universe spontaneously formed itself from randomly collected atoms it would require incredible stretches of time. Recall that science repeatedly stretched the age of the universe from millions of years to billions as it became more clear that the process required more time than they originally thought.
Thanks, Hadden :)
As so often it is unintentional connections which catch my eye
‘What I realised was that I am dealing with men who would have considered fabricating stories about themselves as lying. Sin. ‘
This is a great way of expressing sin in terms of what Iain McGilchrist calls Left Hemispheric Captivation
When I’m on Sabbatical part of my ‘project’ is to write up some of this