Kicking a Fetus to Cross the Rainbow Bridge
This is a tough one for me. As an unequivocal animal lover and Catholic, I have often felt divided loyalties. An occasional columnist for a local paper writes lovingly about her “companion animals” and those of friends and relatives, but would never question the the “right” of a woman to kill her baby. Academic minds such as Peter Singer take the argument a step further and locate the moral wherewithal to justify the killing of a “non-sentient” human, particularly if it were deemed necessary to save the life of an animal. I can’t see where this situation would ever play itself out, so we’re talking hypotheticals here, but I suppose it could be applied to cases where animals are harmed or killed while being used in testing the efficacy or safety of pharmaceuticals to be used by humans.
By the same token, there are few in the religious community who have taken the welfare, let alone the rights, of animals very seriously. This is especially the case for farm animals, particularly those we have classified as livestock and often make meals out of. Probably a matter of out of sight, out of mind; but as increased evidence is revealed, the plight of “confined” animals is becoming much more difficult to ignore. Factory farms are a living hell for these “humble beasts,” where the primary concern is the bottom-line, not the care of animals that “we’re all gonna eat anyways.” (And it should also be noted that humans aren’t treated very well in these facilities either.) The intelligence and even empathy that scientists find in a growing number of animal species is perhaps adding to the moral complexity of this issue as well.
I’ll weigh in on this a little more in the future, but in the meantime I’d like to turn your attention to an article that is part of an ongoing dialogue/debate on the subject. I’m finding both sides to be proffering engaging/ convincing/compelling arguments for their particular position.
In a related article that appeared in an issue of the magazine, The Latin Mass, a devout Catholic has meditated very movingly on the death of her beloved dog, Coalman. She expresses frustration with the well-meaning but often “sloppily sentimental” or “infuriating” attempts at condolences by friends and family: “Well, he’s on the Rainbow Bridge now; you’ll see him there someday!” “Too bad — did you see that hilarious show on television last night?” “Oh well, he was only a dog.” Like myself, she’s reached the point where she prefers to keep her losses mostly to herself, and shares her grief with but a select few. Coalman was not “only a dog” to the writer, but her “protector, constant companion, and best friend for all those years, and his departure leaves a gap that can never be adequately filled. There will be other dear dogs, but none like this one.”
Who hasn’t felt similarly about a pet? And it need not be a dog. I’m still mourning the loss of a starling that shared many of the qualities Coalman had. I know that there will never be another Loki; and when she died, friends made their best efforts to console me. Those with birds got it; those without, probably not but they tried. The “cult of the Rainbow Bridge” was of the least help, even as it offered the greatest number of sympathy shares on Facebook. I still fail to understand how unbelievers somehow manage to believe in a bridge to Heaven.
But if I differ with Church teaching, it is on the matter of souls for animals. Loki was one of the most soulful creatures I’ve ever encountered, including humans — with so many of us seeming spiritually dead these days. In her own way, her little body seemed overwhelmed by what she truly was. And to know her was to love her. I can’t say that about too many people I’ve met lately.
All this being said, you’ll sooner see me on an anti-abortion picket line than on a march for animals; praying for an end to abortion before offering grieving friends or family members free passes on the Rainbow Bridge.
One last thought, which the Latin Mass article raises: If we never see our pets again — if they lack immortal souls — is it any wonder why the death of a beloved animal can be much more difficult to bear than the death of many humans, whose souls are at least somewhere and can be prayed for? Wouldn’t this also compel us to treat any animal more compassionately, if only because that animal could be our beloved animal?
“If fortune drives the master forth an outcast in the world, friendless and homeless, the faithful dog asks no higher privilege than that of accompanying him to guard against danger, to fight against his enemies, and when the last scene of all comes, and death takes the master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the cold ground, no matter if all other friends pursue their way, there by his graveside will the noble dog be found, his head between his paws, his eyes sad but open in alert watchfulness, faithful and true even to death.”
— Senator Vest’s Eulogy for a Dog
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