REFLECTION 27 SEPTEMBER 2026 ANIMAL BLESSING SUNDAY 

“And God Saw That It Was Good” 

Genesis 1:20–25 | Matthew 6:25–34 

By Rev Dr Fei Taule’ale’ausumai 

 

Well, today is one of those Sundays when we really don’t know what is going to happen.  We have our animals here with us, so there might be a little extra noise, a little movement, and perhaps a few surprises. But that’s all right. In fact, perhaps that’s exactly how an Animal Blessing Sunday should be. 

Our first reading comes from the opening chapter of Genesis. 

Now, I don’t read Genesis as a scientific explanation of how the world came into existence. I don’t think that’s what the writers were trying to give us. They weren’t sitting there with a scientific textbook explaining how many millions or billions of years ago this or that happened.  Genesis is poetry. It is theology. It is an ancient people trying to make sense of themselves, their world and their relationship with the sacred.  And one of the things they say, again and again, is:  It is good. 

The seas are filled with life.
The skies are filled with birds.
The land is filled with all kinds of creatures. 

And it is good. 

I think that matters. 

Because the animals are not described as good because they are useful to human beings. 

A bird doesn’t have to justify its existence to us. 

A whale doesn’t have to be useful to us. 

A forest doesn’t have to make money for us. 

A river doesn’t have to prove its economic value before we decide it is worth protecting. 

There is something sacred about life itself. 

And, of course, we now understand far more about the natural world than the writers of Genesis ever could. We know something of evolution. We know that life has developed over an extraordinary length of time. We know how deeply interconnected the ecosystems of our planet are. 

And perhaps that makes the words of Genesis even more powerful: 

It is good. 

Not perfect. Not without struggle. Not without death and change. But good. 

And we are part of it. 

We sometimes talk about “creation” as though it is something out there and we humans are standing over here looking after it. 

But we are creation too. 

We are animals too. 

We breathe the same air. We need the same water. We depend upon the soil and the oceans and the plants and all those complex systems of life that were here long before any of us arrived. 

So perhaps stewardship is not quite enough. 

Because stewardship can still sound as though the earth belongs to us and we’ve been put in charge of it. 

Perhaps we need to talk more about kinship. 

We belong to this earth. 

We are related to the rest of life. 

We are part of this extraordinary community of living things. 

And then Jesus says: 

“Look at the birds of the air.” 

Just look.  Pay attention.  Notice what is around you.  And then Jesus says, look at the flowers. 

Again, I don’t think Jesus is giving us some simple formula that says, “Don’t worry, God will make sure you’ve always got enough food and somewhere to live.” 

Because we know that’s not true.  People do go hungry.  People do lose their homes. People sleep on our streets.  Animals suffer. Species disappear. Whole ecosystems are damaged. 

And so we have to be careful that we don’t turn Jesus’ words into something they were never meant to be. 

Maybe Jesus is asking us to look differently. 

To pay attention to what is around us. 

To realise that life is not just about accumulating more and more. 

To recognise our dependence upon one another. 

And perhaps to ask ourselves: What kind of community are we creating together? 

That question has stayed with me particularly after the housing forum at the cathedral on Wednesday. 

A disabled advocate spoke about the need for accessible homes to be available at a cost people can actually afford. 

And social housing, too, has to be genuinely affordable for the poorest members of our community. 

Because it is no good talking about shelter in the abstract when people are struggling to put a roof over their heads, food on the table—or, for some people, there isn’t even a table because they are homeless. 

And that’s where I think this reading from Matthew becomes quite challenging. 

Because perhaps the question isn’t simply, “Will God provide?” 

Perhaps the question is: 

How do we provide for one another? 

How do we make sure there is enough? 

How do we organise our communities so that some people aren’t living with far more than they need while others have nowhere safe to sleep? 

How do we care for those whose voices are easily ignored? 

How do we care for this earth without simply taking and taking and taking from it? 

And as we move through an election year, those are questions worth thinking about. 

What sort of country do we want to be? 

What do we want our communities to look like? 

How seriously do we take the voices of those who are struggling? 

What place do compassion, justice, housing, disability access, poverty and care for the environment have in the decisions we make? 

And we have to listen carefully, because election years come with plenty of promises. 

Our task is to think carefully and prayerfully about what those promises actually mean for people—especially those who are poorest, those who live with disability, those who are homeless, and those whose voices don’t always make it into the places where decisions are made. 

And maybe all of that brings us back to the animals who are here with us today. 

Because they remind us that we are not the centre of everything. 

That’s not a bad lesson for human beings to learn. 

They remind us that life exists beyond our agendas, our meetings, our politics, our bank accounts and all the things that can consume us. 

And those of us who share our homes with animals know that they can teach us a thing or two. 

They know when it’s time to eat. 

They certainly know when it’s time for a walk. 

And they seem to know when we need them simply to sit beside us. 

They don’t care what qualifications we have. 

They don’t care what job we do. 

They don’t care how successful we are. 

They simply share life with us. 

So today we give thanks for them. 

Not because they belong to us, but because, for this little part of life’s journey, we belong together. 

We share one earth. 

We breathe one atmosphere. 

We depend upon one another in ways we are still discovering. 

And perhaps that is one way of hearing those ancient words of Genesis today: 

And it was good. 

Not a scientific statement. 

Not a description of a perfect world. 

But an invitation to look at the living world around us and recognise its worth. 

And then to ask ourselves: 

How are we going to live as part of it? 

So now we come to bless the animals among us. 

But perhaps the blessing goes both ways. 

We bless them today, and we recognise the many ways in which they have already blessed us—with companionship, laughter, comfort, loyalty, and simply by being there. 

So let us give thanks for these creatures who share our lives, and let us recommit ourselves to caring for them, for one another, and for this beautiful, fragile earth that is our common home. 

Blessing of the Animals 

May the Sacred Presence we encounter
in the wonder and diversity of life
bless these animals who share our lives. 

May they know safety and kindness,
food and shelter,
gentle hands and loving companionship. 

May those who care for them
be blessed with patience, tenderness and joy. 

And may we learn from the creatures with whom we share this earth
to live more gently,
to notice more deeply,
and to cherish this beautiful and fragile creation. 

May all creatures, great and small,
find their place within the great web of life. 

And may we, together with all creation,
learn again what those ancient words of Genesis invite us to see: 

It is good. 

Amen. 

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Audio of selected readings and reflections

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Audio of the complete service