In the year 325 AD all the Christian theologians of
the day met in Nicaea to put doctrine down on paper. And after a great deal of
gives and takes it was at this first ecumenical council that the group agreed
upon the Nicaean Creed--a profession of faith—the Apostles Creed. It is the
core of what all Christians believe. Catholics recite it weekly in mass as the “I
believe in one God the father almighty creator of heaven and earth…” prayer.
I am totally on board with the Nicaean creed in its
original form. But dogma after the year 325 AD is where I begin to get into
trouble with being a “good Catholic.” Because after that first council, the
churchmen began interpreting scripture and making up the rules which became
catechism. Once you get past Jesus’ love your God with all your heart and love
your neighbor as yourself—the highest commandment—the synthesis of the
original 10---I start doubting. Especially when the churchmen (never
churchwomen) make their ruling on things like souls—who has them, what type, and how and when they leave and
enter the body. I have a problem with churchmen being so conceited as to
believe that they can impose human rules on God and his perfect creation. Because
if God really is all-knowing and all-love, he is capable of much more than that
which is written in a catechism. God is much more infinite than the finite
thoughts of a bunch of men with pointy hats.
And my issue (one of many) with Catholic doctrine was
brought to light this past weekend when I had the task of putting my beloved
Jasper down. The Catholic church does not support the belief that dogs have
souls like humans. According to the church dogs have what is called a “vegetative
soul”---which in essence means that as a creature of God a dog has a soul (perhaps)
here on earth, but once they die, that is it—no doggie heaven.
I have a hard time with that concept. In my world dogs
have the purest of souls. Dogs teach humans how to be better humans—being more
doglike allows humans to be more Godlike. And my God—the God of all enlightenment-- knows that. With my God all things are possible. And in my
God’s heaven, all the souls that have aided the learned lessons of my own soul will
be there waiting for me—human or not. In
my God’s heaven, there are animals—lots
of them.
As my body lay across Jaspers during his euthanasia—I
sobbed pathetically as the injected serum traveled to his heart. And on the
crest of a sob, inexplicably, all of the air refilled my lungs. I felt overwhelming
calmness. I believe I was feeling Jasper’s peace as his soul left his body. And
as dramatic and incredulous as it sounds, I know it was at that moment that his
soul rose up to heaven. I felt it. And no one will ever be able to convince me
otherwise. And I do not care what the Catholic churchmen say---all of God’s
creatures—especially the animals--- roam free in heaven. To think otherwise
contradicts the infinite wisdom and love of their creator. And I have the
Nicean creed to back me up: I believe in
one God, the father almighty, creator of
heaven and earth and of all that is seen and unseen. Maybe the churchmen
need to profess a little more faith. Maybe they need to remember to believe in
that which they have not seen. Maybe they need to leave the creating to God and
not to themselves.
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