“The Gospel of Cats”
(Sort Of)
Some say they were brought in to take care of the rats. Others say that they were already inhabitants of the land. But everyone who lives at the 180-year-old penitentiary in Santiago, Chile, can agree on this. The cats were there before them.
For a long time, they were ignored by the officials and the outside world, given free room and board at the prison if for no other reason than their help with the rodent population. But in the last decade or so, the cats have garnered extra attention for what might be called their spiritual effect on the prison environment. The prison’s warden, Colonel Helen González, who wears a tight bun, carries a billy club, and wanders the prison in combat boots, explains the difference that the cats make. “Prisons are hostile places. So of course, when you see there’s an animal giving affection and generating these positive feelings, it logically causes a change in behavior, a change in mindset.” Having the cats around, she says, “has changed the inmates’ mood, has regulated their behavior and has strengthened their sense of responsibility with their duties, especially caring for animals.”
Carlos Nuñez, a balding inmate who is serving a fourteen-year sentence for home burglary, describes this change as he points proudly to his two-year-old tabby friend, whom he has named Feita, or Ugly. “A cat makes you worry about it, feed it, take care of it, give it special attention. When we were outside and free, we never did this. We discovered it in here.”
I cannot help but smile at the mystery of this arrangement. Here, where men are forced to live behind bars, cats freely choose to dwell. Here, where society has cast its outlaws out of sight and out of mind, cats make their home and make these men their neighbors. And by all accounts, they are doing for these men what the justice system has not been able to do. In their patient, insistent presence, they are inviting the men to care for themselves and for others. They are teaching them the good news of care—quite a different story to the fear-ridden myth that these men have been taught by the world, namely that control is the only way they will ever meet their needs.
Another inmate, Reinaldo Rodriguez, serving a firearms charge until 2031, describes the gentle behavior of his black feline friend, Chillona: “Sometimes you’ll be depressed and it’s like she senses that you’re a bit down. She comes and glues herself to you. She’ll touch her face to yours.” Chillona lives with Reinaldo and the eight other inmates who are crammed into the same cell. Reinaldo says that, in the beginning, he and his cellmates used a bowl of water to lure Chillona out of hiding. “Little by little, she would approach us,” he says. “Now she’s the owner of this room. She’s the boss.” The cellmates argue with each other over whose bed is her favorite.[1]
Lest you hear this story as my partisan proclamation of the gospel of cats (which I admittedly do proclaim from time to time), I should add quickly that there are similar stories of rehabilitation all over the world, involving not just cats but man’s other best friend as well, dogs.
Welcomed by Outsiders
Today we are celebrating the beginning of the season of Epiphany. Epiphany literally means “appearance.” In the church, Epiphany is the season that immediately follows Christmas, and it tells the good news that Christ is not hidden under a bushel but rather “appears” to people like you and me, shining a light into the shadows of our lives. The traditional story told at Epiphany is the visit of the magi—wise men. In fact, some communities call Epiphany “Three Kings Day” in honor of the magi who bring three gifts and thus are sometimes identified as three persons.
The story of the magi reminds us of a mystery. Generally, when a new king or ruler is announced, there is a grand celebration and reception, and he is given honor by honorable people. But when Christ first appears to the world, it is outsiders who welcome him.
For the magi are Gentiles. They are men from the east. They are watchers of stars, which is perhaps to say that they are starry-eyed. They pay little attention to the ground, to the boundaries that powerful men draw on it, and instead they search the “boundless” sky (cf. Eph 3:8), knowing that God’s grace can appear anywhere. The magi are not the only outsiders to welcome Jesus. We already saw on Christmas day how Jesus was welcomed by a band of shepherds, who were social outsiders of their day—not really the sort of people you’d have over for dinner.
The mystery that outsiders should receive Christ when he appears to the world is compounded by the fact that many insiders, such as Herod and the leaders of Jerusalem, look toward Christ with fear and resistance, if for no other reason than that his arrival threatens the standing order of the day.
Christ Welcomes
Outsiders
This mystery of Christ’s reception, this reversal of insiders and outsiders, is mirrored in Christ’s own embrace of the world. Christ certainly embraces the insiders of his day, as evidenced by his genuine care for Pharisees like Nicodemus and for the rich ruler. The mystery, however, according to Paul in today’s scripture, is that Christ shares this same embrace with outsiders, which is to say, Gentiles, non-Jews.
It may help to remember that the earliest Christian communities were primarily composed of Jewish people. Jesus himself was Jewish. His first followers assumed, quite naturally, that to become a follower of Christ, a person must first adopt the respectable beliefs and rituals of Jesus’ own religious tradition. In other words, an outsider must first undergo a cultural makeover and become an insider. Then they could be declared Christian.
But in today’s text, Paul proclaims the mystery that Gentiles—outsiders—are already “members of the same body, and sharers in the promise in Christ Jesus” (Eph 3:6). No one would have believed it if the Spirit itself hadn’t made it abundantly clear, manifesting in Gentile Christ-followers who had not yet undergone any cultural makeover (cf. Eph 3:5; Acts 10:1-11:18; 15:1-29). This, Paul says, is the mystery of Christ. No social change is required in order to receive the welcome of Christ. Sure, changes may happen as a result of following Christ, but they are not conditions for receiving the primal embrace of Christ.
I think back to the gospels. How Jesus marvels at and praises the faith of the Roman centurion—who is about as outside as an outsider could get, a military figure of the oppressive occupation of Judea. How Jesus spends multiple days with the Samaritans in their own hometown, even though they are derided by many as Jewish “half-bloods.” How Jesus eats with tax collectors and women whose lives have been dragged down into desperate and hopeless circumstances.
For Paul, the mystery of Christ is that we keep finding him with outsiders—people we wouldn’t expect.
The Riches of Christ
I think back to those cats in Santiago. There is something of the mystery of Christ in them, is there not? While society fears these men and puts them behind bars, the cats draw no such boundaries and welcome them as neighbors. And while the world’s rejection of these men threatens to keep them imprisoned in patterns of shame and violence, the cats’ acceptance restores them to a way of care. The cats help to reveal the true nature of these men as children of God, blessed and bearing the very image of Love.
There’s a word that gets repeated in today’s scripture. “Rich.” First Paul talks about the “boundless riches of Christ” made evident in his embrace of people who have not undergone the cultural transformation expected of them (3:8). Then he declares that “through the church the wisdom of God in its rich variety might now be made known to the rulers and authorities” (3:10).
For Paul, “rich” clearly does not mean having many things. Instead it seems to mean embracing many people. The “boundless riches of Christ” refers to his gracious welcome of everyone. And “the wisdom of God in its rich variety” is what the church makes known to the world when it reflects this same gracious welcome of Christ. In a different letter, Paul says, “Welcome one another…just as Christ has welcomed you” (Rom 15:7).
The Mystery of the
Church
What becomes clear in Paul’s letters, what is good news for the world today, is that Epiphany is not just about the appearance of Christ in Jesus two thousand years ago, though of course that is crucial. Epiphany is also about the appearance of Christ in us who are his body. The church reflects to the world the mystery of Christ, the mystery of his boundless grace.
I don’t mean to be starry-eyed in my praise of those chummy cats in Chile. Certainly, criminal deeds that threaten the well-being of a community need a response that will ensure safety.
But if I am starry-eyed…then I hope maybe the example of the magi, who were starry-eyed before any of us, will invite us to stay a minute longer with this question: what does it mean for us, as the body of Christ, to live out the mystery of his boundless riches of grace?
Prayer
Mysterious Christ,
Who eats with tax collectors and sinners,
Whose work is done by cats and dogs,
Who turns up where we wouldn’t expect—
Help us to know ever more deeply
Your embrace of us as fellow children of God
…
That we might share this embrace with others
And make known your mystery,
Your boundless riches of grace,
“The wisdom of God in its rich variety.”
[1] Jack
Nicas, “Cats Filled the Prison. Then the Inmates Fell in Love,” New York
Times (online), December 31, 2023; accessed January 1, 2024; https://www.nytimes.com/2023/12/31/world/americas/cat-prison-chile.html.
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