Animals in Heaven? by Fr Terry Martin

Author Interview

Fr Terry Martin, a priest of the Diocese of Arundel & Brighton, UK, is parish priest of the Catholic Parish of Worthing & Lancing, West Sussex. He was ordained in 1999. He became an advocate and a voice for animals following his own experiences of suffering and voicelessness. Urged by his faith to live the generosity and gentleness of Jesus, he calls for a kinder, more engaging, less utilitarian regard for animals. Welcome to the 19th in my series of author interviews.

Please describe how your interest in Christianity began and how you became a priest of the Diocese of Arundel and Brighton in southern England. Since 2015, you have been a parish priest of Worthing and Lancing in West Sussex. What are your duties and responsibilities?

I was born and brought up as a Christian, and my faith has always been a central part of my life and identity. Apart from the inevitable couple of years of teenage rebellion, I have drawn great comfort and inspiration — as well as particular challenges — from Christianity.

Catholicism provides, for many Catholics, a framework within which to perceive the world and to falteringly attempt to follow Jesus Christ. My ordination as a priest in 1999 was a hugely significant and moving moment; I have never regretted the sense I had then (and continue to have) of this being the right way for me to explore life and the human condition. As the years have gone by, I have developed a convincing awareness of being in the right place at the right time. Worthing and Lancing is the parish in which I have served the longest; I have just begun my tenth year. It is a seaside parish with a vast array of cultures and races — largely because we have a high concentration of nursing homes here, and a teaching hospital. The parish community is very diverse — and all the richer for it.

I have responsibilities, primarily, in celebrating Mass and hearing confessions, but also in providing pastoral care and sacramental support for all the Catholics of the area. Additionally, I visit local schools, nursing homes, and the hospital, and try to offer a leadership perspective on all that we are seeking to do as committed Catholics in this part of the world.

Finally, I also (somewhat reluctantly) have responsibility for the things with which we must all be concerned these days: health and safety, buildings, finance, GDPR and so on…. It would be great to see the Church, at least in Europe, move towards appointing appropriately qualified and remunerated lay people to these roles, but the culture is slow to change.

How did your concern for animals begin? How has your understanding of our relationship with animals developed over the years?

I was always taught, from an early age, to respect and admire creation. Animals were ever-present in our family home and, sometimes, were about the only centre of stability in an otherwise rather unsettled and chaotic existence. I used to find comfort and security in the companion animals around me, sensing in them an intuitive willingness to love unconditionally. Naturally, I thus wanted to see them treated well and with kindness. For years, after my ordination, I had wanted to welcome a canine companion to my home but colleagues, friends, and family persistently advised against it. Eventually, I decided to go against all that advice and gave a home to a dog. The powerful relationship of trust and confidence that I had developed with animals as a boy was still there and, if anything, grew even stronger. My dogs (Pepe and Georgie) have, over the years, brought a strong sense of healing and of loving companionship. As a single, celibate male, this has proved invaluable and, ultimately, completely life changing.

In time, this response evoked in me a desire to see all animals (not just dogs) treated with care and concern and, after a while, I became a confident animal advocate. I just want to see the end of all animal suffering, and will do all that I can to contribute something worthwhile to that conversation and movement. In the past, my voice been somewhat strident and combative, but more recently — whilst still proudly speaking the truth — I try to cajole and coerce, and win folk around to ‘seeing’ animals as they truly are for the first time.

Your book is called Animals in Heaven?: A Catholic Pastoral Response to Questions about Animals. How do you answer the question? How is your book different from others written from this perspective?

My book sets out clearly, from the very start, to make the point that I may, in fact, give the reader fewer answers and more questions! My aim is to invite the reader to think in a new way about animals and why they are here — not necessarily to convince them of becoming an animal advocate or a vegan (although that would be amazing). The tone throughout is conversational and is not intended to be over-theological, whilst raising important questions about creation and creatures.

My target audience, if you like, is the regular, faithful Catholic who attends Mass each week and who has natural musings about how we, as humans and, specifically, as Catholics, regard animals. Throughout, I am clear that the Church has not actually attempted to answer all of the questions that the book title proposes. This is wise and I have reflected that — however, I do also challenge the Church, and consider those whose influence has been significant.

I gently state that the massively influential “Angelic Doctor”, St Thomas Aquinas (who has, in many ways, stopped the conversation around the questions I seek to pose), need not be the only saint or Catholic teacher whom we consider. Both before and after Aquinas there were/are other great figures of Christian and Catholic history who made a contribution to the debate but are all too quickly shut down by Aquinas’s philosophy and highly developed scholasticism (which focusses heavily on Aristotelian logic, emphasising dogma and an academically cognitive approach).

My book is specifically different in that it is a pastoral response, not a theologically heavy tome, but peppered with anecdotes (all true, with names changed) from my ministry as a priest; stories which are used to illustrate or develop a point I might be making. Finally, I do not magisterially declare that one way is better than another — I simply invite the reader to reconsider his or her options and to develop their thinking.

Why did you write Animals in Heaven?? What do you seek to accomplish? Is this a book only for readers who are Catholic?

I wrote the book because I have had a growing desire to do more for the animals. I have felt that my witness could be stronger and louder, and that I could advocate for the animals in a cheerful but (hopefully) challenging way. The book asks all people of good will to reflect on why animals are here and how we respond to them, as well as considering the place of animals in the whole beautiful complexity of creation.

For Christians, I wanted to gently show the obvious disconnect between saying that animals are God-given and God-created while, at the same time, unthinkingly choosing to eat them (especially at big Christian celebrations), wear them, use them for sport and entertainment, and so on. Although the Catholic Church does not (in any way, shape, or form) ask Catholics to consider these questions (if only!), it is perfectly possible — and, I would suggest, completely ethically authentic — to live a very full Catholic life and still have a high regard for animals.

My veganism is present in the book because that, for me, is one of the practical ways I attempt to live-out my faith on a day-to-day basis. In fact, I see it as one of the main means of Christian living. The compassionate, forgiving, healing Christ surely would not bless the commodification and industrialisation of animals that we have today?

Although I have much recourse to scripture, I try to call on people’s awareness and common-sense, since Christians, like others, are very skilled at making the Bible mean what they want it to mean. Squabbles about this text or that quotation just lead us nowhere (except in never-ending circles). The book is aimed somewhat at Catholics because that is the world in which I live and where I see the biggest gaps.

However, the manuscript is entirely available to other Christians too: I quote both Anglican and other Protestant writers throughout, as well as concentrating on Catholic contributions. It is a little niche, I suppose, to write this book, aimed at this demographic — sadly, veganism and animal rights are already niche — but, perhaps to start small and to address the world which I inhabit could begin to make something of a difference.

From your perspective as a Catholic, how do you feel about the future of humanity, the lives of animals, and the future of the planet?

Good question! As a Catholic (and therefore a Christian) I have hope. The book is couched in this hope a great deal and tries to offer even bad news in an upbeat yet convincing way. When statistics about slaughterhouses and animal suffering are mentioned, it is usually posed within the context of a question, rather than as a bald statement (thus hopefully continuing to keep the reader engaged). I won’t pretend — even as a person who has hope — that the immense suffering of animals does not cause me huge sadness and even sleeplessness … but I have learned to look after myself and to get out and about with the dogs, enjoying the Sussex Downs, when such relatively frequent moments occur.

Like all vegans and animal advocates, I sometimes experience desperate frustration at the unseeingness of so many to the pressing issues which others of us painfully observe, and which consume our lives. I was a little late to the table for the environmental issues but, in fact, they grow naturally from a concern for animal advocacy and veganism. I guess I am hanging in there and trusting that the earth will be gathered up into Christ at the Last Day but, in the meantime, I am anxious that we humans are becoming increasingly the architects of our own destruction and disharmony. The positive tone of the book counteracts this to some extent and presents, I hope, good reasons for individuals to choose to make a difference.

I’d like to make two closing comments.

First, Chapter 5 tells something of the story of suffering through which I went as a youngster. It was a tough time that lasted for years. Whilst I don’t name these trials for what they actually were, many readers will resonate (and comprehend) the kind of experiences I am describing. I have come to see (after years of looking at and trying to deal with such traumas) that these experiences have helped me to be the passionate animal advocate that I am. I had no voice and suffered in silence — exactly the experience of so many animals at human hands.

Second, when I was physically writing the manuscript I had the opportunity to meet with Kim and to speak with him about his own experience as an author. It was immensely helpful and encouraging for me to hear him share his story and to be supported by him. Thank you, Kim.