Evidencing the Eschaton: Progressive-Transformative Animal Welfare in The

Modern Theology 27:1 January 2011 ISSN 0266-7177 (Print) ISSN 1468-0025 (Online)

EVIDENCING THE ESCHATON: PROGRESSIVE-TRANSFORMATIVE ANIMAL WELFARE IN THE

CHURCH FATHERSmoth_1658 121..146

RYAN PATRICK McLAUGHLIN

Introduction I am not an avid fan of Star Trek. I have never attended a convention. I have not seen all the movies or episodes. I am not well-informed on what Trekkies refer to as the Star Trek canon. Even so, I have every intention of seeing the latest Star Trek movie. Why is that? In a recent interview, a fan asked the director, J. J. Abrams, “When rebooting a franchise, fans of the original tend to be alienated due to the attempt to draw new fans in. How did you address this when making this ﬁlm?”1 Abrams answered, “The obvious challenge was that we wanted to make our own brand new thing, and at the same time embrace and honor what had come before.” Next a fan asked, “Did the vast Trek canon help or hurt your work to make this ﬁlm?” Here, Abrams’ answer especially caught my attention. He said, “It was hugely helpful because it gave us parameters. We knew that within that framework we could create, explore, and experiment. It’s actually nice when you’re given a box...when you’re given parameters that you have to honor because it gives you limits and then you know that within those boundaries you can be creatively risky.” My academic aim is to contribute to a constructive theology where nonhumans receive more attention and ethical concern. At the same time, I want to be careful not to discard completely the parameters set for orthodoxy in Christian history. These two goals create a problem and an opportunity. On the one hand, the parameters set in Christian history do not always seem to afford the best occasions to expand concern for the nonhuman creation. On

Ryan Patrick Mclaughlin 141 Front Street North Huntingdon, PA 15642 USA [email protected]

© 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd 122 Ryan Patrick McLaughlin the other hand, like Abrams, I have a framework within which I can create, explore, and experiment. I can be creatively risky. The aim of this article is to retrieve and creatively develop a strand of Christian thought, stretching from early Christian interpretations of biblical data through the hagiographies of the saints into modern Christian thought, which provides a foundation for concern over the welfare of nonhuman animals. I am not arguing that the theological foundation for the position developed in this project is the only Christian viewpoint—or even the dominant Christian viewpoint. Rather, I am arguing that it is a theological foundation representing a theological viewpoint, though perhaps overlooked and underdeveloped, within the Christian narrative. As opposed to some other viewpoints, it affords resources to reconsider the place of nonhuman animals in ethics from a perspective grounded in Christian tradition. Given this aim, methodologically I seek to highlight thinkers that represent a particular strand of Christian thought. To provide the framework for this strand, I explore the theology of Irenaeus of Lyons and Ephrem the Syrian. First, I consider their positions regarding the place of nonhuman animals in protology and eschatology. Then, I note their view that the created order is in via toward its eschatological consummation. With this framework in place, I turn to other voices in the Christian tradition, including the hagiographies of the saints, in order to further develop the framework. Ultimately, I will suggest that, within this particular strand of Christian thought, the further a human being progresses along the path of redemption, the more he or she ought to serve as a prolepsis of eschatological hope, which includes peaceful relationships between humans and animals.

Preliminary Concerns and Confessions Before developing my argument, I must express two preliminary concerns and make a confession. The first concern is methodological; namely, why I do not take the path of animal rights. The second concern is definitional; namely, what I mean by animal welfare. The debate over animal rights—whether for or against—is usually predicated upon the establishment of an essential similarity between humans and animals.2 More often than not, however, the Fathers—and numerous theologians in their wake—sought to maintain sharp lines of distinction between humans and animals.3 Thus, deriving an argument for animal rights from patristic writers proves most difficult.4 Animal welfare, on the other hand, circumvents this difficulty. To argue for animal welfare, one need only estab- lish that humans bear some responsibility for the well-being of animals. One can thus make a case for animal welfare within an anthropocentric worldview, even utilizing terms such as “dominion.” As I believe both

© 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd Evidencing the Eschaton 123 anthropocentrism and dominion—though running the danger of misuse— are paramount to a proper understanding of creation, I opt for the language of animal welfare over animal rights.5 However, I must define what I mean by animal welfare. My use of this phrase is not an evasion of the intensity of rights language. I hold that one must view whatever acceptability exists in the use of animals as food, clothing, and medical research as a concession to a world that is not as God desires it to be.6 As such, I propose the phrase “progressive-transformative animal welfare” (hereafter PTAW).7 By this phrase, I mean that redeemed humans ought to move progressively to greater practices of peace toward animals as they move along the path to perfection.8 In this sense, PTAW does not simply sanction the use of animals for human benefit. Rather, it recognizes this use as a concession that progressively diminishes as much as possible as humans become the prolepsis of that for which they hope. Before continuing, intellectual honesty mandates a confession. I readily admit that I have not found an explicit affirmation of PTAW in any of the Fathers, including Irenaeus and Ephrem. As such, in this article I make an inference, but I do so from a theological framework within the Christian narrative. Thinking creatively within boundaries set by patristic thinkers, I hope to provide an opportunity to augment concern for the well-being of animals without dismissing loyalty to the Christian tradition.

The Past and the Future: Pre-lapsarian Views and Eschatological Hopes Having dealt with my preliminary concerns, I now seek to explore the view held by Irenaeus and Ephrem of both a pre-lapsarian state in creation and an eschatological hope of a progression beyond that state. There is evidence that these Fathers held that harmonious relationships existed between humans and animals—as well as among the animals—and that the disobedience of humans frustrated this reality. Furthermore, they held that the future toward which God calls the creation includes a return to those harmonious relationships.9 Irenaeus clearly afﬁrmed a pre-lapsarian state of harmony among animals. For him, this state included a complete absence of predatory actions where all animals ate only vegetation.10 There is no reason to assume that this harmonious co-existence excluded humans. Irenaeus makes no explicit claim that humans participated in predation prior to the fall. Furthermore, the claim that humans did not participate in violent activity is consistent with Theophilus of Antioch, whom Irenaeus frequently follows theologically.11 Moreover, harmony between humans and animals is explicit in the passage of Isaiah 11:6-9, in reference to which Irenaeus describes the harmony of the pre- lapsarian creation. The following is an excerpt from Against Heresies, beginning with Irenaeus’ citation of the prophet’s passage:

‘The wolf also shall feed with the lamb, and the leopard shall take his rest with the kid; the calf also, and the bull, and the lion shall eat together; and a little boy shall lead them. The ox and the bear shall feed together, and their young ones shall agree together; and the lion shall eat straw as well as the ox. And the infant boy shall thrust his hand into the asp’s den, into the nest also of the adder’s brood; and they shall do no harm, nor have power to hurt anything in my holy mountain’...Iamquite aware that some persons endeavour to refer these words to the case of savage men, both of different nations and various habits, who come to believe, and when they have believed, act in harmony with the righteous. But although this is [true] now with regard to some men coming from various nations to the harmony of the faith, nevertheless in the resurrection of the just [the words shall also apply] to those animals mentioned. For God is rich in all things. And it is right that when the creation is restored, all the animals should obey and be in subjection to man, and revert to the food originally given by God...thatis,theproductions of the earth.12

It is worth noting a few important aspects of this passage from Irenaeus. First, he uses a text that affirms an eschatological peace among animals. But it also includes humans in that harmonious picture. Hence, not only will the wolf and the lamb feed together, but also a little child shall lead them. There will be no destruction on God’s mountain, neither among the animals nor between humans and the animals. Second, Irenaeus explicitly denies that this eschatological hope is allegorical. On the contrary, for Irenaeus the passage means exactly what it says: that a cosmic harmony will resume in the eschatological future. Third, this eschatological future recalls a harmonious protology. Irenaeus never references Genesis 1:30, in which Elohim limits the diet of all animals to the vegetative productions of the earth. Nonetheless, Steenberg rightly notes that, given Irenaeus’ familiarity with Genesis 1, “There is no reason to suppose that [he] did not draw his reflections [from that passage].”13 If Irenaeus did draw from Genesis 1:30, he was certainly aware of the preceding verse in which Elohim provides the same dietary delimitation to the human creature. Thus, as Irenaeus utilizes an eschatological passage in which both animals and humans participate in a harmonious kingdom; as this passage recalls a protology in Genesis where that harmony existed among both humans and animals; and as these findings are consistent with Theophilus of Antioch, there is good reason to believe that Irenaeus posited harmonious relationships between humans and animals as a proleptic beginning to the created order. As is already apparent, Irenaeus affirmed an eschatological future that not only included nonhumans—at least in the millennial reign of Christ—but also placed them in peaceful relationships with humanity.14 Hence, in Dem- onstration of the Apostolic Preaching, Irenaeus claims, “Now as to the union and

© 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd Evidencing the Eschaton 125 concord and peace of the animals of different kinds...theElders say that so it will be in truth at the coming of Christ, when He is to reign over all.”15 While again Irenaeus only explicitly mentions peace among animals, the same arguments that apply to his protology apply also to his eschatology. Hence, the peace on God’s holy mountain will not be limited to animals, but will incorporate all creation, including humans. Ephrem the Syrian held a similar view to Irenaeus regarding the relationships between humans and animals in the creation as God intended it. Explicating the meaning of God’s bringing the animals to Adam, Ephrem writes: [This happened] so that God might make known the wisdom of Adam and the harmony that existed between the animals and Adam before he transgressed the commandment. The animals came to Adam as to a loving shepherd. Without fear they passed before him in an orderly fashion, by kinds and by species. They were neither afraid of him nor were they afraid of each other. A species of predatory animals would pass by with a species of animal that is preyed upon following safely right behind.16 In this passage, Ephrem explicitly affirms that the peace of Paradise existed between all creatures, including humans. The pristine relationship between humans and animals was predicated on love, not fear.17 Hence, like Irenaeus, Ephrem viewed humans and animals in harmonious relationships in the original creation. This passage also highlights Ephrem’s view that this harmony was disrupted with human disobedience.18 In Hymns on Paradise, Ephrem depicts the future hope of a return to Eden in terms analogous to the present world. The future he envisions is a perfected world where God will heal the wounds of all creation. He writes, In the world there is struggle, in Eden, a crown of glory. [A]t our resurrection both earth and heaven will God renew, liberating all creatures, granting them paschal joy, along with us. Upon our mother Earth, along with us, did he lay disgrace when he placed on her, with the sinner, the curse; so, together with the just, will He bless her too; this nursing mother, along with her children, shall he who is Good renew.19 Here Ephrem includes all creatures in God’s liberating and healing activity. It is interesting to note that, for Ephrem, animals will even participate in paschal joy with humans. Again, this passage highlights that, for Ephrem, the current struggle observable in the cosmos is a distortion of the harmony of Eden. Hence, like Irenaeus, Ephrem affirms harmonious relationships as indicative of the beginning of creation and its eschatological end. In this section, I have briefly delineated the view of Irenaeus and Ephrem concerning a pre-lapsarian state of peace between humans and animals and an eschatological return to that state. The current struggle in creation is

© 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd 126 Ryan Patrick McLaughlin framed by an edenic and an eschatological harmony. In short, the telos of the cosmos includes a harmony between human and animals, which constitutes at least in part the eschatological hope toward which God calls the creation.

The Present: Evidences of the Eschaton in the Fathers In the following section, I explore the theology of Irenaeus and Ephrem as it pertains to the present. For both thinkers, the present is not simply a path of return to protology, but rather a progression beyond it. Eden was not a perfected creation; it was a creation in via. It was the beginning of a path toward the eschaton. Both Irenaeus and Ephrem thus view the fall as a departure from a path. Redemption is a return to the path beyond the original Eden. This view of a creation in via permits the notion of a progressive movement toward eschatological hope. I have already examined the inclusion of a protology and eschatology in Irenaeus’ theology. Both include harmony between humans and animals. However, both elements of Irenaeus’ theology require a further qualification: creation is in via. For Irenaeus, the eschaton is not simply a return to Eden, but a progression beyond it.20 The beginning was a prolepsis of the end and the end will be a fulfillment of the beginning. Hence, God did not fashion a perfect creation, but rather a creation in via toward a telos. To develop this point for the purpose of my project, I must note a few important details concerning Irenaeus’ view of creation. First, for Irenaeus, God did not create perfect and mature human beings. On the contrary, Irenaeus viewed Adam and Eve as existing in the capacity of innocent children needing to grow into adulthood. Thus, concerning the creation of Adam, Irenaeus writes that he “was [but] small; for he was a child; and it was necessary that he should grow, and so come to [his] perfection.”21 Later, he states of both Adam and Eve: “[T]here was in them an innocent and childlike mind.”22 For Irenaeus, God created children that needed to mature into God-like beings. This language is further solidified in his view of the image and likeness of God, which for Irenaeus constitute a reality proper to the human creature and a calling toward God-likeness.23 This necessity of growth explains why the eschaton is not simply a return to Eden. In the eschaton, humanity will exist in the capacity of adults, participating in the divine nature and thus inhabiting God-likeness. A second imperative point involves Irenaeus’ view of the human role in creation. Many commentators on Irenaeus’ theology have limited his soteriology to anthropocentric concerns. Denis Minns writes, The central focus of the economy is the creature formed from mud by the hands of God....Everything else in creation derives its significance from its relationship to humankind, for whose benefit it exists. For all practical purposes, then, the ‘stages’ of the divine economy are all stages of the development of humankind toward its divine perfection.24

This emphasis on the salvation of the human creation is not without warrant. After all, Irenaeus does claim that “creation is suited to [the wants of] man; for man was not made for its sake, but creation for the sake of man.”25 However, if commentators are blind to the implications of salvation for the rest of the created order, their view of Irenaeus’ soteriology is incomplete. For Irenaeus, the human creature bears a role—a special responsibility— in the created order. Hence, in The Demonstration Irenaeus writes that God endowed humans with certain faculties “that [they] might rule all those things that were upon the earth.”26 In light of this passage, Steenberg notes that the anthropocentrism of Irenaeus has been subject to a “misappre- hension by a whole variety of interpreters” and provides a corrective to the dominant interpretation of Irenaeus’ anthropocentric soteriology. He writes, Humanity and the cosmos are to exist in mutual interaction and exchange, through which both come to exist fully according to the intention revealed by God at creation, who himself manifests divine glory on both the cosmos and humankind in this harmonious exchange....Creation is at the service of its human lord—it is subservient; but this is a service of growth, not a slavery of submission. The service of creation to the human race is to advance both parties fully into their teloi at the fulfilment of the economy.27 As Steenberg rightly notes, one cannot limit the economy of salvation to only human concerns. In fact, the importance of human beings is at least partly predicated on their role in leading the nonhuman creation into perfection.28 In this sense, God calls the human creature to mature and lead all of creation into its divinely ascribed end. Hence, when Irenaeus states, “It is fitting...thatthe creation itself, being restored to its primeval condition, should without restraint be under the dominion of the righteous,” he pref- aces this sentence with the affirmation that “God is rich in all things, and all things are His.”29 The anthropocentrism of Irenaeus is always theocentric. The creation is not humanity’s toy, but rather humanity’s God-given responsibility. Furthermore, all things belong to God. And God calls all things, through the agency of the human creature, into God’s peaceful kingdom. As such, Irenaeus quotes Romans 8 and claims that the dominion of humanity will result in the deliverance of all creation “from the bondage of corruption into the glorious liberty of the sons of God.”30 God calls the human creature to lead the entire creation toward the telos into which God draws humanity. These points elucidate another important aspect of Irenaeus’ view of creation: the fall. First, the fall of humanity was not a fall from perfection. It was rather a fall from the path to perfection.31 Hence, for Irenaeus, the fall is not a single act serving as a fulcrum between two states of existence. Rather, as Steenberg notes, “the misdirection of the divine economy is...adeparture from the pathway on which Adam and Eve were originally set, and there is in this departure a genuine loss of the possessions held there.”32 Further,

© 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd 128 Ryan Patrick McLaughlin this loss is a “loss of potential, rather than the loss of actualised realities.”33 Second, the fall of humanity had an adverse effect on all of creation in the sense that humanity’s fall from that path to perfection also constituted creation’s fall from the path to perfection. In short, the entire creation in via was misdirected and subjected to frustration.34 However, for Irenaeus, the incarnation of the Logos remedied the fall by undoing the systemic harm from the original disobedience. The obeisance of Mary surmounted the sacrilege of Eve. The obedience of Christ conquered the failure of Adam. The cross triumphed over the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.35 In this way, states Irenaeus, Christ “achieved our redemption, and fulfilled the promise of the fathers, and abolished the old disobedience.”36 It is thus through Christ that humanity returns to the path toward perfection. If the fall resulted in a disruption of humanity’s progressive growth, but Christ restored humanity, not to a state of perfection, but to that path of progressive growth, should not humans bear proleptic signs of the eschatological hope as we mature? As Steenberg writes, “The telos towards which humanity is moving, the adulthood for which the child strives, is nothing other than the completion of the one creative movement of God which commenced ‘in the beginning’, which was revealed in its fullness in the incarnate Christ, and which will find fulfilment in the eternal kingdom.”37 Steenberg goes on to claim that, for Irenaeus, the eschatological hope is the finality of that toward which humanity strives. This denotes a “progressive development toward and into Christ.”38 Here, my inference is that, as harmonious relationships are indicative of the eschatological future as well as the proleptic beginning, humans moving forward on the path toward perfection should reflect those realities to whatever extent possible. Like Irenaeus, Ephrem held that Christ restored humanity to a path that leads beyond Paradise. He writes, “The ultimate aim of the incarnation ...wasnotjust to restore...humanity to Paradise, but to raise humanity to the position of honor that Adam and Eve would have been granted had they kept the divine commandment.”39 In this passage, Ephrem notes a need for restoration. At the fall, something was lost. However, for Ephrem, salvation does not equate to becoming as Adam and Eve; rather, it equates to becoming as Adam and Eve would have become. It is becoming like Christ. In this sense, Adam and Eve were on the path to the likeness of God. The fall disrupted their journey and required restoration. Hence, the eschatological destination of fallen humanity is the same eschatological destination Adam and Eve would have achieved in the absence of their trespass. Thus, as with Irenaeus, for Ephrem the fall is a departure from the path toward humanity’s eschatological telos. This departure requires restoration. But what does this restoration include? To answer this question with regard to my project, I look first to Ephrem’s view of human and animal relationships in a post-lapsarian world and second to Ephrem’s emphasis on humanity’s clothing of glory.

I have already shown that Ephrem held that humans and animals enjoyed peaceful relationships prior to the trespass of Adam and Eve.40 However, concerning the time of the deluge, Ephrem refers to the peace between the animals entering the ark as a “novel sight.”41 Between life in Eden and life outside of Eden, the normative experience of animals coming to humanity “as to a loving shepherd” and “without fear”42 had degraded.43 The inescap- able assumption is the introduction of predatory relationships in a post- lapsarian world. Furthermore, predation was so normative by the time of Noah that the peace of animals was a “novel sight.” Hence, unlike Adam in Eden, Noah lived within a world of disharmony. Yet, regarding the animals gathering to the ark and the humans watching, Ephrem writes,

When those of [the generation of Noah]44 gathered [to see] this novel sight, it was not to repent, but rather to amuse themselves. Then, in their very presence, the lions began to enter the ark and the bulls, with no fear, hurried in right on their heels to seek shelter with the lions. The wolves and the lambs entered together and the hawks and the sparrows together with the doves and the eagles.45

Ephrem’s description of the animals coming to Noah is quite similar to his description of how they came to Adam. In this sense, the interaction between Noah and the animals on the ark recalls the pre-lapsarian harmony of Eden.46 Furthermore, Tryggve Kronholm notes the connection between the language of Ephrem’s passage and the eschatology of Isaiah 11.47 The resemblance of Eden coupled with the language of Isaiah’s future prophecy suggests that this post-lapsarian episode not only recalls a pre-lapsarian harmony but also serves as a prolepsis of the eschatological future in which that harmony will be re-established. Kronholm also notes that, in Ephrem’s hymns, the ark is a typological expression of the Church and the animals are typological expressions of various kinds of humans living in harmony within the Church.48 While this reading does appear in Ephrem’s hymns,49 in his commentary on Genesis Ephrem envisions the peace between the animals and Noah as literal— evincing Noah’s righteousness and calling the wicked to repentance. Hence, Ephrem writes that God administered judgment when “those of that generation were still not persuaded, neither by the gathering of all the animals at that time nor by the love that instantly grew between [the animals].”50 In other words, in the deluge narrative, Noah evidences eschatological hope with righteous living. His righteous living, in turn, leads to an image that both recalls the harmony of Paradise and adumbrates the peaceful kingdom of Isaiah 11. In this manner, Noah is a post-lapsarian example of righteous humanity evidencing the harmonious relationships of the eschaton prior to eschatological fulﬁllment.

The deluge provides an example of evidencing the eschaton in the Old Testament. For Ephrem, however, the incarnation is essential for a normative return to the path toward the eschaton. This point is clear when considering the theophanic language of humanity’s clothing of glory.51 Ephrem writes that, in Eden, Adam and Eve were clothed in the glory of God: “[God] set [Adam] in the garden to dwell, clothed him in glory and made him ruler over all the trees of Paradise.”52 It is worth noting that Ephrem links Adam’s dominion with the glory.53 Furthermore, Ephrem writes, “It was because of the glory with which they were clothed that they were not ashamed.”54 In this passage, it is clear that Ephrem views both Adam and Eve as clothed in glory. As is apparent, Ephrem links the language of glory with existence in Paradise. For this reason, it is not surprising that the trespass of the first humans bears a dual consequence of humanity’s loss of glory and of their place in Eden. Ephrem writes, “It was when this glory was stripped from them after they had transgressed the commandment that they were ashamed because they were naked.”55 For Ephrem, Christ bears the glory. When “the wolves” stripped his garments from him during his passion, they only revealed the glory underneath.56 Furthermore, it is only because Christ put on the flesh of humanity that humanity may again wear the glory of God. In his hymns, Ephrem expresses this reality through a consideration of Mary, who states, “I put on the glory of Him who put on the body, the garment of His mother.”57 In a subsequent nativity hymn, Ephrem states that Christ took on the suffering and death of humanity in order to return to Adam (used generally) the robe of glory that he lost.58 Elsewhere, Ephrem states, “Christ came to find Adam who had gone astray, to return him to Eden in the garment of light.”59 In his work, Hymns on Paradise, Sebastian P. Brock writes a fine compendium on Ephrem’s use of humanity’s clothing on glory.60 Brock notes that Ephrem creatively uses the glory theme to hold the entire cosmic drama of redemption together: Basically there are four main episodes which go to make up this cosmic drama: at the Fall, Adam and Eve lose the “Robe of Glory” with which they had originally been clothed in Paradise; in order to re-clothe the naked Adam and Eve (in other words, humanity), God himself “puts on the body” from Mary, and at the Baptism Christ laid the Robe of Glory in the river Jordan, making it available once again for humanity to put on at baptism; then, at his or her baptism, the individual Christian, in “putting on Christ,” puts on the Robe of Glory, thus reentering the terrestrial anticipation of the eschatological Paradise, in other words, the Church; finally, at the resurrection of the Dead, the just will in all reality reenter the celestial Paradise clothed in their Robes of Glory.61 Drawing on Ephrem’s writings, Brock correctly delineates Ephrem’s view of salvation history in terms of the loss and regaining of the clothing of glory.

He is also correct in stating that, while Christ renders it possible for humanity to take up the clothing of glory, the completion of this redemption is ultimately eschatological. In this sense, putting on the Robe of Glory by putting on Christ is “reentering the terrestrial anticipation of the eschatological Paradise.” The theophanic language of glory connects both Eden and the eschaton to the present through the incarnation. Christ has enabled a return to the path toward the eschaton and movement along that path. As with Irenaeus, for Ephrem the fall is a departure from the path toward the eschaton, but the work of Christ permits a return to that path. Furthermore, as harmony between the animals and humans is characteristic of both protology and eschatology for Ephrem, my inference is again that a return to the path—a re-clothing in glory—should progressively include peace to whatever degree possible.62 In sum, in the theologies of both Irenaeus and Ephrem, creation in Eden was in via toward fulﬁllment of its telos. Life in Paradise included peace between humans and animals. Life in the eschaton will also include such peace. Christ enabled a return to that path—a return of the garments of glory. This framework provides the opportunity to afﬁrm that peaceful acts between humans and animals evidences the reality of Christ’s work and serves as a prolepsis of eschatological hope.

Filling in the Framework I have delineated a framework from the writings of Irenaeus and Ephrem. Within this framework, the present reality of competition within creation is portrayed as an unnatural perversion of life in Paradise that will be erased in the eschatological kingdom. Furthermore, through Christ humans can proleptically witness to—at least in part—the reality of Paradise and the hope of the eschaton. As I have already stated, my argument is that the proleptic witnessing evident in this theological framework could include peaceful relationships between humans and animals to whatever degree possible. But is this inference justified? To argue that it is, I turn to other voices in the Christian tradition.63 I begin with a specific affirmation of my inferences in the ascetical homilies of Isaac of Nineveh. This seventh century bishop contributes to the notion that humans can serve as a prolepsis of eschatological hope. He writes, [T]hough the humble man is contemptible in his eyes, his honor is esteemed by all creation. The humble man approaches ravenous beasts, and when their gaze rests upon him, their wildness is tamed. They come up to him as their Master, wag their heads and tails and lick his hands and feet, for they smell coming from him that same scent that exhaled from Adam before the fall, when they were gathered together before him

and he gave them names in paradise. This was taken away from us, but Jesus has renewed it through his coming.64 There are a few important elements of this passage. First, the work of Christ has returned a lost attribute to the human race. Second, for Isaac, the loss of this attribute at the fall evidently disrupted the relationships between humans and animals. Thus, this attribute, referred to as the “scent that exhaled from Adam before the fall,” is connected to the peaceful life of Paradise. Third, the return of this attribute is evident in harmonious relationships between humans and animals. As with Ephrem’s reading of the deluge narrative, in this passage Isaac uses the language of Eden to describe the relationships experienced between righteous humans and animals. With Isaac, however, the occurrence is explicitly in the present and derives from the work of Christ. The above passage suggests that the peace between humans and animals rests on the submission of animals to righteous humanity. However, Isaac viewed this relationship as reciprocal. In his Mystical Treatises, he writes, [W]hat is a merciful heart?...Theburning of the heart unto the whole creation, man, fowls and beasts, demons and whatever exists; so that by the recollection and the sight of them the eyes shed tears on account of the force of mercy which moves the heart by great compassion. Then the heart becomes weak and it is not able to bear hearing or examining injury or any insignificant suffering of anything in creation. And therefore even in behalf of the irrational beings and the enemies of the truth and even in behalf of those who do harm to it, at all times he offers prayers with tears that they may be guarded and strengthened; even in behalf of the kinds of reptiles, on account of his great compassion which is poured out in his heart without measure, after the example of God.65 In this passage, Isaac views great compassion for all creation as evidence that one is on the right path toward perfection. This person does not cause unnecessary harm and laments the suffering of all, even demons. This person offers prayers on behalf of animals. After appealing to the Orthodox view that the telos of the entire cosmos is deification, Vladimir Lossky cites Ephrem’s passage as indicative of the theology of the Eastern Orthodox Church.66 Says Lossky, “In his way to union with God, man in no way leaves creatures aside, but gathers together in his love the whole cosmos disordered by sin, that it may at last be transfigured by grace.”67 Considering both of Isaac’s passages, it appears that he confirms the view that peace between humans and animals is indicative of movement along the path toward eschatological hope. Furthermore, this peace begins with the work of Christ and is channeled through righteous humanity, transforming the wilderness. There are numerous accounts validating Isaac’s passages in the religious orders of the Church. Many hagiographies record narratives of miraculous

© 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd Evidencing the Eschaton 133 peace between the saints and animals. The medieval saints provide an excep- tional number of examples. Before exploring these in brief, I want to consider two passages, one from the apocryphal New Testament and another from the Gospel of Mark. In Pseudo-Matthew, predatory animals worship the infant Jesus and protect him and his family on their journey through the wilderness to Egypt.68 Dragons come from a cave and frighten the group during their travel. But Jesus stands before them and they worship him. Afterwards, Jesus stays his parents’ fear by claiming that all creatures of the forest will be tame before him.69 The subsequent chapter of the gospel validates this claim and is worth quoting at length: Lions and panthers adored Him [Christ] likewise, and accompanied them in the desert. Wherever Joseph and the blessed Mary went, they went before them showing them the way, and bowing their heads; and showing their submission by wagging their tails, they adored Him with great reverence. Now at first, when Mary saw the lions and the panthers, and various kinds of wild beasts, coming about them, she was very much afraid. But the infant Jesus looked into her face with a joyful countenance, and said: Be not afraid, mother; for they come not to do thee harm, but they make haste to serve both thee and me. With these words He drove all fear from her heart. And the lions kept walking with them, and with the oxen, and the asses, and the beasts of burden which carried their baggage, and did not hurt a single one of them, though they kept beside them; but they were tame among the sheep and the rams which they had brought with them from Judaea, and which they had with them. They walked among wolves, and feared nothing; and no one of them was hurt by another. Then was fulfilled that which was spoken by the prophet: Wolves shall feed with lambs; the lion and the ox shall eat straw together. There were together two oxen drawing a waggon with provision for the journey, and the lions directed them in their path.70 In this extraordinary account, Jesus heralds the messianic kingdom of Isaiah 11. The evidence that the kingdom is breaking into the world is found in the peaceful relationships between Jesus and the predatory animals in the wilderness. Not only do these creatures not harm Jesus and the other humans, but they also do not harm the domesticated animals in the group. Turning from this apocryphal account, it is pertinent to consider an earlier tradition in the gospel according to Mark. In his prologue, following Jesus’ baptism, Mark claims, “the Spirit immediately drove him [Jesus] out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness for forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him” (Mark 1:12–13). In his second article in the book Animals on the Agenda, Richard Bauckham claims that Mark’s short reference to Jesus’ presence “with the wild beasts” is steeped in theological significance. First, Bauckham depicts a Jewish context echoed in the views of both Irenaeus and Ephrem: “The Jewish

© 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd 134 Ryan Patrick McLaughlin tradition, in the context of which Mark 1.13 should be read, saw the enmity of the wild animals as a distortion of the created relationship between humans and animals and the result of human sin. In creation God established human dominion over the animals (Gen. 1.26; Ps. 8.6–8; Sir. 17.2–4; Wisd. 9.2–3), which should have been peaceful and harmonious, but was sub- sequently disrupted by violence.”71 Second, the syntax of Mark’s passage suggests that Jesus’ presence transformed the wilderness:

Mark’s simple but effective phrase indicates Jesus’ peaceable presence with them [the wild animals]. The expression ‘to be with someone’ (einai meta timos) frequently has the strongly positive sense of close association or friendship or agreement or assistance...andin Mark’s own usage elsewhere in his Gospel, the idea of close, friendly association predomi- nates (3.14, 5.18, 14.67; cf. 4.36). Mark 1.13 depicts Jesus enjoying the peaceable harmony with wild animals which had been God’s original intention for humanity but which is usually disrupted by the threat of violence.72

In these two passages, Jesus serves as a prolepsis of the eschatological kingdom. Furthermore, this prolepsis is evident in the peaceful relationships (friendship!) between Jesus and the animals. Bauckham goes on to state,

Mark’s image of Jesus with the animals provides a christological warrant for and a biblical symbol of the human possibility of living fraternally with other living creatures, a possibility given by God in creation and given back in messianic redemption. Like all aspects of Jesus’ inauguration of the kingdom of God, its fullness will be realized only in the eschatological future, but it can be signiﬁcantly anticipated in the present.73

These images further contribute to a strand of Christian thought that validates the notion of PTAW as they envision Jesus as the inaugurator of the messianic age in which humans and animals may experience a new peace. As Bauckham notes, this peace is not ﬁnalized. Nonetheless, it may be witnessed to by the righteous. Moreover, it is reciprocal. But it begins with the righteous, being channeled through them from the work of Christ. This new peace is further validated by the countless narratives of saints experiencing miraculous harmony with animals.74 Space permits only a brief treatment of this subject. Considering the messianic expectations of the re-establishment of a harmonious creation in Jewish thought and the reception of that expectation in early and later Christian writings, it is not surprising that the experience of Jesus “with the wild beasts” is taken up in the hagiographies of the saints.75 Some, like Anselm and the later Silouan the Athonite, wept at the plight of animals.76 Other saints, such as Denis and Giles, provided animals with safety from human hunters.77 Still other saints

© 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd Evidencing the Eschaton 135 administered healing practices toward animals. St. Jerome removed a thorn from a lion’s paw and in return received the creature’s faithful service.78 In an article exploring animals in the Virtues of Saint Macarius, Tim Vivian notes how peace between the saint and animals evidences proleptically the peaceable kingdom. In one narrative, Macarius not only heals the young of a hyena by making the sign of the cross, but also later instructs the mother to not harm any other creatures but rather to eat only carrion.79 Considering similar stories, Vivian notes, “Macarius, through God’s enlightenment and grace, [enacts] the peaceable kingdom, where he lives in peace with ante- lopes, hyenas, sheep—and even snakes. The chief virtue of this kingdom, it appears, is compassion: not dogma, not orthodoxy, not orthopraxis, but love and empathy and mercy for others, even non-human others.”80 Considering these narratives of saints in light of the framework provided by Irenaeus and Ephrem, augmented by both Isaac of Nineveh’s passages concerning the characteristics of the saint and the scriptural references to Jesus’ inauguration of the peaceful kingdom, one can afﬁrm that PTAW settles nicely within the parameters of orthodoxy. In the words of Tim Vivian, Although monks lived in close proximity with spiders, snakes, scorpions, jackals, wolves, and lions, most of them appeared to have lived quite peaceably with their animal companions in the desert. Such peaceful coexistence, and even community, has the power, therefore to point our age, made ecologically sensitive by necessity, to the possibility of better relationship with the nonhuman creature with whom we share God’s creation. Just as importantly, the monks can guide us toward the possibility of a peaceable kingdom, one created by God in the Garden and reenvisioned by the prophets.81 In sum, while PTAW is an inference within the theological framework provided by Fathers such as Irenaeus and Ephrem, it is validated by other writings and narratives in the Christian tradition. The saints frequently transformed the wilderness with their righteousness. Furthermore, Isaac of Nineveh claims that this transformative power which makes for peace in the wilderness derives from the work of Christ. The portrait painted by these narratives strongly resembles the inferences I make for a creation in via toward an eschatological hope that includes peace for all creatures.

PTAW: Beyond Conservation In taking the path of PTAW, I have contributed to the possibility of surpassing an ecological view that is built upon utility and conservation alone.82 The framework provided by Irenaeus and Ephrem—among others—opens an even greater door than conservationism. In fact, conservation of the present natural order is insufﬁcient for the Christian witness I have traced because it is predicated on the belief that the system—in this case the cosmos—is good

© 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd 136 Ryan Patrick McLaughlin if the system is sustainable. According to the strand of Christian thought I highlight in this project, creation is good, but it has experienced a disruption or at least has not yet reached its telos.83 Furthermore, God calls the creation, both human and nonhuman, forward to the eschatological hope evident in the proleptic beginning. Human beings, called to grow in the image and likeness of God, play a significant role in this calling. The Christ event in history has made possible movement along the path toward perfection. Within this strand of Christian theology, certain forms of the eco-theology movement appear insufficient. God charges the redeemed human with more than utility and conservation. God charges that person with the task of witnessing to the teleological hope of the transformation of the cosmos.84 As this hope includes harmonious relationships in the created order, the human being should serve as a leading witness—a prolepsis—of those harmonious relationships by practicing them to whatever extent possible. Hence, humans have a responsibility to treat each other with absolute respect. But as the scope of the harmony that God seeks extends beyond the human community, redeemed humanity should strive to treat the nonhuman creation as peace- fully as possible. PTAW thus recognizes the central role of humanity, including the exercise of dominion, but it interprets these elements in terms of a loving responsibility to lead the nonhuman creation toward its telos. Drawing out this transformative strand of Christian thought reveals pow- erful sources with which Christianity can address ecological issues beyond the typical conversations of rights, utility, and conservation. It draws hope into the present by permitting God’s revelation of a future peace to inform ethics in the present. It affirms the inherent value of the nonhuman creation without negating its alterity. It also implicitly addresses issues of theodicy by gathering the suffering of the entire created order into the human hope for redemption. It does perhaps invite the critique of promulgating a “wanton anticipation” of the eschaton by emphasizing a seemingly unrealis- tic “already” of eschatological hope. However, the emphasis of PTAW, in line with the varying theological contributions from Christian history, is neither on constructing the eschatological kingdom of God through human efforts nor claiming a realized or realizable eschatology, but rather on witnessing to the hope of that kingdom through a transformed heart that welcomes a wider scope of mercy and compassion. This compassion is not the fullness of the eschatological kingdom but rather a proleptic witness to the future hope of the cosmos.

Conclusion: The Proleptic Nature of Progressive-Transformative Animal Welfare In conclusion, although Fathers such as Irenaeus and Ephrem do not explicitly delineate the position of PTAW, one can reasonably argue that the position ﬁts within the framework of their larger theological schema. PTAW is akin to J. J. Abrams’ creativity within canon. It derives from a strand of

© 2010 Blackwell Publishing Ltd Evidencing the Eschaton 137 thought in Christian history. In this strand, the present disrupted order in creation is framed by both a proleptic protology and an eschatological teleology which include harmonious relationships between humans and nonhuman animals. Furthermore, both the belief that Christ enables movement toward eschatological hope and the belief that peaceful relationships between humans and animals evince such progress add considerable substance to the foundation this strand provides for PTAW. For this reason, one can argue from within the narrative of the Christian tradition—from sources such as Irenaeus and Ephrem to the hagiographies of the saints—that the human agent, inasmuch as he or she moves along the path toward eschatological hope, can (and ought to) become a prolepsis of that hope in part by engaging in what I have deﬁned as progressive-transformative animal welfare. In doing so, humans can, in the words of Isaac, reveal “compassion...without measure” for all creatures “after the example of God.”85

NOTES 1 “10 Questions with J. J. Abrams” available online at http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/ Memory_Alpha:Ask_J.J._Abrams/Answers; Internet, accessed May 2009. 2 The most basic categorical distinction is evident in the separation of “person” and “thing.” Hence, for René Descartes, animals are nothing more than machines: “As for brute animals, we are so used to believing that they have feelings like us that it is hard to rid ourselves of this opinion. Yet suppose that we were equally used to seeing automatons to imitate ...in this case we should be in no doubt that all the animals which lack reason were automatons too.” Descartes, Letter to Mersenne, 30 July 1640, in The Philosophical Writings of Descartes (PWD), volume III, translated by John Cottingham, Robert Stoothoff, Dugald Murdoch, Anthony Kenny (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1984), p. 149. Moreover, Descartes states, “I cannot share the opinion of [those] who attribute understanding or thought to animals.” Letter to Marques of Newcastle, 23 November 1646, (PWD, p. 302). While not explicitly addressing the anachronistic issue of animal rights, it is Descartes’ categorical distinction between animals and humans that permits him to conclude: “I am not worried that people say that human beings have absolute dominion over all the other animals.” Letter to Marques of Newcastle, 23 November 1646, (PWD, p. 302). Immanuel Kant predi- cates the status of personhood, which in turn yields inherent value, on certain capacities that exist only in the human being. Furthermore, he states that “morality is the condition under which alone a rational being can be an end in itself, since only through this is it possible to be a lawgiving member in the kingdom of ends. Hence morality, and humanity insofar as it is capable of morality, is that which alone has dignity.” See Immanuel Kant, Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals, translated and edited by Mary Gregor (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1998), p. 42 (4:435). For Jeremy Bentham, animals are included in the category of rights because they suffer. Suffering constitutes “the insuperable line” sur- rounding those entities entitled to rights. Hence, Bentham states, “Is it [i.e. the insuperable line that constitutes rights] the faculty of reason or perhaps the faculty of discourse? But a full-grown horse or dog is beyond comparison a more rational, as well as more conversable animal, than an infant of a day or a week or even a month old. But suppose they were otherwise, what would it avail? The question is not, Can they reason?, nor Can they talk? but, Can they suffer?” Jeremy Bentham, The Principles of Morals and Legislation (New York: Prometheus Books, 1988), p. 311. This basic categorical concern continues in the contemporary debate over animal rights. For instance, Carl Cohen distinguishes between two branches of abolitionists in the debate concerning animal experimentation. The ﬁrst, following the work of Peter Singer, bases the protest of experimentation on utilitarianism, claiming that the evil of that use of animals

cannot be balanced by a good achieved through it. The second, represented best by Tom Regan, bases the protest on the belief that animals have rights and experimentation is intrinsically wrong as it violates those rights. See Carl Cohen and Tom Regan, The Animal Rights Debate (New York: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers, 2001), pp. 6–8. Concerning the language of rights, Cohen claims that animals have none. While not denying the sentience of some animals, he nonetheless claims that “rights arise in the sphere of human morality and apply to moral agents that are uniquely human” (p. 8). Hence, for Cohen, the category of rights is predicated on morality. Animals, in his view, are amoral (p. 31). Thus, they are rightly excluded from a category that is “essentially human” (p. 30, italics original). In opposition to Cohen, Regan departs from the Kantian category of “person” and suggests that a “lexical gap” exists because the category of person places all nonhuman animals in the category of “thing.” To fill this gap, Regan suggests the phrase, “subject-of-a-life.” I do not need to delineate this phrase fully. I only note that, for the sake of establishing animal rights, Regan has recognized a category that includes both humans and animals: they are both subjects-of-a-life. For Regan, this category serves as the new insuperable line for rights. Cohen and Regan, The Animal Rights Debate, pp. 197–204, 209–210. Cf. Andrew Linzey, Animal Theology (Chicago, IL: University of Illinois Press, 1995), pp. 3–27. 3 For example, in City of God, Augustine states, “God, then, made man in His own image. For He created for him a soul endowed with reason and intelligence so that he might excel all the creatures of the earth, air, and sea, which were not so gifted.” Augustine, City of God, XII.23; Basic Writings of Saint Augustine, ed. Whitney J. Oates, volume II (New York: Random House, 1948), p. 205. In addition, Augustine states that the command of non-killing applies only to humans, because animals are “disassociated from us by their want of reason, and are therefore by the just appointment of the Creator subjected to us to kill or keep alive for our uses.” Augustine, City of God, I.20 (Basic Writings, p. 27). This differentiation finds root earlier than Augustine, however. Stanley Grenz traces a sharp differentiation between humans and animals based on a substantive interpretation of the imago Dei. He begins by stating, “Although most Christians today would be likely to assume that this view arises directly out of the Bible, the idea was actually introduced into Christian thought by those church fathers who were influenced by and grappled with the Greek philosophical tradition.” Grenz, The Social God and the Relational Self: A Trinitarian Theology of the Imago Dei (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), p. 143. He notes the propensity toward the substantive view in Irenaeus. While I will further qualify this point below, Grenz is certainly correct (pp. 144–148). Grenz claims Irenaeus establishes the path for his successors. In the East, these include Clement of Alexandria, Gregory of Nyssa, and finally John of Damascus (pp. 149–152). In the West, Augustine set a firm groundwork for a substantive view of the imago. He argued that the imago includes rationality and sets humans over the nonhuman creation (p. 152). Grenz traces Augustine’s influence through Aquinas, who ascribed at least an aspect of the imago to all humans on account of the mind (p. 158). After a lull in the substantive interpretation with early Reformers like Luther and Calvin, subsequent Protes- tants returned to this view (pp. 170–173). Like Irenaeus, Ephrem also posited a differentiation between humans and animals. Ephrem states, “Even though the beasts, the cattle, and the birds were equal [to Adam] in their ability to procreate and in that they had life, God still gave honor to Adam in many ways: first, in that it was said, God formed him with His own hands and breathed life into him; God then set him as ruler over Paradise and over all that is outside of Paradise; God clothed Adam in glory; and God gave him reason so that he might perceive the majesty [of God].” Ephrem, Commentary on Genesis, II,4, in St. Ephrem the Syrian: Selected Prose Works, edited by Kathleen McVey, translated by Edward G. Mathews and Joseph P. Amar, “The Fathers of the Church” [hereafter TFC] (Washington DC: The Catholic University of America Press, 1994), p. 99. Other theologians and biblical scholars have reached similar conclusions. For instance, concerning the imago Dei, J. Richard Middleton states, “Most patristic, medieval, and modern interpreters typically asked not an exegetical, but a speculative, question: In what way are humans like God and unlike animals?” J. Richard Middleton, The Liberating Image: The Imago Dei in Genesis 1 (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2005), pp. 18–19 (emphasis original). Likewise, Douglas Hall states, “[I]t can readily appear—if one follows the history of the interpretation of this symbol closely—that the whole enterprise of defining the imago Dei in our Christian conventions centers on the apparent need to show that human beings are different from all other

creatures.” Douglas John Hall in Imaging God: Dominion as Stewardship (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1986), p. 90. Considering these points, one is inclined to agree with Gary Steiner’s essay which argues that the essential division between animals and humans found in Descartes derives at least in part from the influence of Christianity. “Descartes, Christianity, and Contemporary Speciesism,” in Communion of Subjects: Animals in Religion, Science, and Ethics, eds. Paul Waldau and Kimberly Patton (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006), pp. 115–127. 4 My point here is neither to argue that the path of animal rights is impossible given our Christian history nor that it is an unworthy goal. Rather, I only seek to express why I am not taking that path in this particular article. I am indebted to the work of those like Andrew Linzey who view animal rights as the best option to encapsulate how human beings ought to engage animals. Furthermore, as Linzey’s view of “theos-rights” is more relational (i.e. that we are all God’s creatures) than substantive (i.e. we all have an essential similarity), I think his work has a great deal of potential. See Linzey, Animal Theology, pp. 19–25. In a brief summary article in The Christian Century, Linzey states, “God is the source of rights, and indeed the whole debate about animals is precisely about the rights of the Creator.” Andrew Linzey, “The Theological Basis of Animal Rights,” The Christian Century,Vol.108 no. 28 (October 1991), p. 908; cf. Linzey, Christianity and the Rights of Animals (New York: Crossroad, 1987), chapter 5. The destination of my theological route is a position quite similar to Linzey’s. 5 While I disagree with the outcome of his thinking, I agree in principle with Cohen: “Denying the reality of animal rights does not entail the denial of our obligations to animals.” Cohen and Regan, The Animal Rights Debate, p. 27. For a discussion on the issues of rights language, see Stephen H. Webb, On God and Dogs: A Christian Theology of Compas- sion for Animals (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), pp. 38–43. 6 As I will show below, in the framework provided by Irenaeus and Ephrem the concession is two-fold. First, the world is not yet complete. It is and has always been in progress. However, it is also not as God desires it to be because of human sin, which disrupted the creation in via toward its telos. Many contemporary Christian thinkers question the validity of turning to a fall to explain the dissonance in the created order. See, for instance, Chris- topher Southgate, The Groaning of Creation: God, Evolution, and the Problem of Evil (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), especially pp. 28–35. Claiming that the current experience of “nature red in tooth and claw” is a distortion of a pristine and harmonious creation is scientifically difficult. Nonetheless, my purpose in this article is theological. Whether the modern reader is convinced that the cosmos is fallen, this belief is common in the Christian tradition. Furthermore, questioning the notion of pristine creation does not negate a teleological view of the created order. On the importance of teleology, see Neil Messer, “Humans, Animals, Evolution and Ends” in Creaturely Theology: On God, Humans and Other Animals, edited by Celia Deane-Drummond and David Clough (London: SCM Press, 2009), pp. 211–227 (especially pp. 213–218). 7 The phrase PTAW should not give the impression that the position I delineate is fully novel. As will be evident in the text, I am quite indebted to others—using both the language of welfare and rights—for this position. My goal is not to say something completely new, but rather contribute to a position that is developing. See note 82 below. 8 It should be evident from this statement that my argument is only viable within the framework of Christianity. This article is not meant as a philosophical treatise applicable to every reasonable person. I am working within a presumed framework. On this note, I must also recognize that I am writing from a particular context. As a middle class Christian living in the continental United States, I have options available to me that are not available to those in other contexts. Bearing this contextual reality in mind, I recognize that certain practices that are not necessary for me are necessary for Christians in other contexts. Hence, the application of the principle I propose will vary by necessity given the disparate contexts. 9 It would overstate the case to claim that these views constitute the only strand of thought among the Fathers. Augustine, for instance, clearly rejected the inclusion of animals in the eschaton. See Augustine, Miscellany of Eighty-Three Questions, The Works of Saint Augustine, Part I Volume 12, edited by Raymond Canning, introduction, translation, and notes by Boniface Ramsey (New York: City Press, 2008), XXX (p. 44). Hence, concerning Romans 8:21, in which Paul states that “the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and

will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God,” Augustine writes, “Here the creation means the human race.” Augustine on Romans, edited by P. F. Landers (Chico, CA: Scholars Press, 1982), 23. Aquinas follows in a similar path. See Summa Contra Gentiles, translated by Vernon J. Bourke (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1975), III.111 (pp. 114–115); cf. Carlo Leget, “Eschatology,” in The Theology of Thomas Aquinas, edited by Rik Van Nieuwenhove and Joseph Wawrykow (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2005), pp. 365–385. Indeed, the position I delineate is not the only—nor the dominant—voice in Christian history. See Paul Badham, “Do Animals Have Immortal Souls?” in Animals on the Agenda: Questions about Animals for Theology and Ethics [hereafter AA], edited by Andrew Linzey and Dorothy Yamamoto (Chicago, IL: University of Illinois Press, 1998), pp. 181–89; see further note 63 below. However, it is important to note that the framework I delineate is a part of the Christian tradition. See Petroc and Eldred Willey, “Will Animals be Redeemed?” AA, pp. 190–191. 10 Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 5.33.4, available from http://www.newadvent.org/fathers/ 0103.htm; Internet, accessed February, 2009. 11 See Robert M. Grant, Early Christians and Animals (New York: Routledge, 1999), pp. 75–76. Concerning the fifth day of creation, Theophilus states: “But the monsters of the deep and the birds of prey are a similitude of covetous men and transgressors. For as the fish and the fowls are of one nature, some indeed abide in their natural state, and do no harm to those weaker than themselves, but keep the law of God, and eat of the seeds of the earth; other of them, again, transgress the law of God, and eat flesh, and injure those weaker than themselves: thus, too, the righteous, keeping the law of God, bite and injure none, but live holily and righteously. But robbers, and murderers, and godless persons are like monsters of the deep, and wild beasts, and birds of prey; for they virtually devour those weaker than themselves.” See Theophilus of Antioch, Letter to Autolycus, II.16 (cf. 17), Ante-Nicene Chris- tian Library: Translations of the Writings of the Fathers, edited by Alexander Roberts and James Donaldson, volume III (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1880), pp. 83–84. 12 Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 5.33.4. 13 M. C. Steenberg, Irenaeus on Creation: The Cosmic Christ and the Saga of Redemption (Boston, MA: E. J. Brill, 2008), p. 94. 14 See Irenaeus’ Demonstration of the Apostolic Preaching: A Theological Commentary and Transla- tion, Iain M. Mackenzie with the translation of the text of the Demonstration by J. Armitage Robinson (Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2002), p. 193. All subsequent quotes and citations from Demonstration are from this translation. 15 Irenaeus, Demonstration,61. 16 Ephrem, Commentary on Genesis, 2.9.3 (TFC, p. 103). 17 It is interesting to note that Ephrem’s comment on the animals having no fear is in stark contrast with Genesis 9:2, where the “dominion” of Genesis 1 is replaced with “fear and dread.” 18 I deal with Ephrem’s view of the fall below. 19 Ephrem, Hymns on Paradise, introduction and translation by Sebastian Brock (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1989), IX.1. All subsequent quotes and citations from Hymns on Paradise are from this translation. 20 Steenberg, Irenaeus, pp. 49–60. 21 Irenaeus, Demonstration,12. 22 Ibid.,14. 23 See Peter Bouteneff, Beginnings: Ancient Christian Readings of the Biblical Creation Narratives (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2008), p. 80. 24 Denis Minns, Irenaeus (Washington DC: Georgetown University Press, 1994), p. 57; cf. Bouteneff, Beginnings,p.77. 25 Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 5.29.1. 26 Irenaeus, Demonstration, 11 (brackets mine). 27 Steenberg, Irenaeus, p. 149 (italics mine). 28 This point resonates with theologians of the Orthodox Church. John Meyendorf states, “The ‘image and likeness’ of God in man implies, not only an openness of man toward God, but also a function and task of man in the whole of creation.” Meyendorf goes on to delineate this task in light of Maximus the Confessor’s Ambigua, in which Maximus develops the view that God charges the human creature with overcoming divisions within the created order. These

divisions include the gap between God and creation and the gap between Paradise and world. In this sense, God calls humanity to lead the cosmos into the life of God. John Meyendorff, Byzantine Theology: Historical Trends (New York: Fordham University Press, 1974), pp. 140–142. Nonna Vernon Harrison also draws on Maximus, claiming that the human creature bears the speciﬁc responsibility of serving as a mediator between God and the rest of the created order. “As human beings we are called with Christ to a cosmic priesthood whose task is to offer the world to God and bestow God’s blessing on the world.” Nonna Verna Harrison, “The Human Person as the Image and Likeness of God” in The Cambridge Companion to Orthodox Christian Theology, edited by Mary B. Cunningham and Elizabeth Theokritoff (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2008), pp. 84–86. 29 Irenaeus, Against Heresies, 5.32.1. 30 Ibid. 31 See Steenberg, Irenaeus, p. 168. 32 Ibid., p. 154. 33 Ibid., p. 168. 34 Again, here Irenaeus follows Theophilus, whose work is both allegorical and literal. Theophilus claims that wild animals were not created evil, “for nothing was made evil by God.” However, he does view the creation as fallen: “For when man transgressed, they [the animals] transgressed with him. For as, if the master of the house himself acts rightly, the domestics also of necessity conduct themselves well; but if the master sins, the servants sin with him; so in like manner it came to pass, that in the case of man’s sin, he being master, all that was subject to him sinned with him.” But the redemption of humanity will bring the redemption of the created order: “When, therefore, man again shall have made his way back to his natural condition, and no longer does evil, those also shall be restored to their original gentleness.” Theophilus, Letter to Autolycus, II.17, Ante-Nicene Christian Library,p.84. 35 Irenaeus, Demonstration, 33–34. 36 Ibid.,p.37. 37 Steenberg, Irenaeus,p.8. 38 Ibid., p. 9. Elsewhere, Steenberg comments on Irenaeus’ view of the fall, stating, “Adam’s potential for growth in the source of the economy has been altered. This loss shall require restoration” (p. 167). The restoration of Christ thus leads to the potential for growth in the context of the entire economy, which, as I have already noted, includes the entire cosmos. 39 Brock, Introduction to Hymns on Paradise,p.72. 40 Ephrem, Commentary on Genesis, 2.9.3 (TFC, p. 103). 41 Ibid., 6.9.3 (TFC, p. 139). 42 Ibid., 2.9.3 (TFC, p. 103). 43 I should note that, for Ephrem, the fall was a series of events. While the ﬁrst sin of Adam and Eve carried the greatest consequences—i.e. the loss of their clothing of glory and their dismissal from Eden—subsequent sin yielded subsequent effect. Hence, in one of his hymns on Paradise, Ephrem writes, “When Adam sinned God cast him forth from Paradise, but in His grace He granted him the low ground beyond it, settling him in the valley below the foothills of Paradise; but when mankind even there continued to sin they were blotted out, and because they were unworthy to be neighbors of Paradise, God commanded the Ark to cast them out on Mount Qardu.” Ephrem, Hymns on Paradise, I.10. For Ephrem, the fall is both instantaneous and progressive. Regardless, as his account of Noah suggests, by the time of deluge the disintegration of harmonious relationships between humans and animals was the normative experience. 44 These are my brackets, not the editor’s. 45 Ephrem, Commentary on Genesis, 6.9.3, (TFC, p. 139). 46 The editors of The Church Fathers series note this resemblance to Eden: “In Ephrem’s hymns, this peace on the ark is sign of a new beginning, of a pre-fall state, and is thus also a type of the Church.” Ephrem, TFC, Selected Prose Works, p. 139, n284. This point is not lost on modern writers. See, for instance, Michael Northcott, “‘They Shall not Hurt or Destroy in All My Holy Mountain’ (Isaiah 65.25): Killing for Philosophy and A Creaturely Theology of Non-Violence” in Creaturely Theology: On God, Humans and Other Animals, edited by Celia Deane-Drummond and David Clough (London: SCM Press, 2009), p. 235. 47 Tryggve Kronholm, Motifs from Genesis 1—11 in the Genuine Hymns of Ephrem the Syrian (Sweden: CWK Gleerup, 1978), p. 186.

48 Ibid. 49 See Ephrem, Hymns on Paradise, 2.12–13. 50 Ephrem, Commentary on Genesis, 6.10.1 (TFC, p. 139). 51 I claim the language is theophanic because of Ephrem’s connection of glory to becoming like God. As Ephrem states, “He gave us divinity, we gave him humanity.” Ephrem, Hymns on Paradise, 5.17. 52 Ephrem, Commentary on Genesis, 1.31.2 (TFC, pp. 95–96). Brackets not mine. 53 In his commentary on Genesis, Ephrem states that the animals could not look at Adam because “their eyes could not endure Adam’s glory.” Ephrem, Commentary on Genesis, 2.15 (TFC, p. 107). 54 Ibid., 2.14.2 (TFC, 106). 55 Ibid. 56 Ephrem, 36th Rhythm; Selected Works of S. Ephrem the Syrian, translated by J. B. Morris (Oxford, 1847), p. 218. The glory was underneath—hidden by Christ’s garments of clothes and flesh—because Christ set it aside to take up the clothing of humanity. See Brock, Hymns on Paradise,p.66. 57 Ephrem, Hymns on Nativity, 16.11 in Ephrem the Syrian: Hymns (hereafter ESH), translated by Kathleen E. McVey (Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press, 1989), p. 151. 58 Ibid., 23.13 (ESH, p. 190). 59 Ephrem, Hymns on Virginity, 16.9 (ESH, p. 150). 60 See Brock, Hymns on Paradise, 66–72. I am indebted to Brock’s work in this section, drawing also upon his summary of divinization (pp. 72–74). 61 Ibid., pp. 67–68. 62 Given this insight, I would suggest that one can find new meaning in the words of Paul in Romans: “For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God” (Romans 8:19–21). Advocates of a “greener” theology frequently quote this passage. However, in consideration of PTAW and Ephrem’s language of glory, I believe the verse that precedes this common passage bears a great deal of relevance: “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18). The creation longs for the glory to be revealed in humanity because glorified humanity will lead creation into “the glory of the children of God.” 63 The reader will note the continuing selectivity of my sources in this section. My aim is not to ignore the positions that are incongruent with my argument. Clearly, concern for the well-being of animals is not at all unanimous in the Christian tradition. Augustine certainly did not equate human righteousness with concern for the suffering of animals. See Augus- tine, The Catholic Way of Life and the Manichean Way of Life, The Works of Saint Augustine, Part I, Volume 19, edited by Boniface Ramsey, translated by Matthew O’Connell (Hyde Park, NY: New City Press, 2006), II.17.59 (p. 95). Aquinas viewed animals as resources for human use. The only reason Aquinas rejected abuse of animals was because he feared it would lead to abuse of humans. See Aquinas, Summa Contra Gentiles, III.112.13 (p. 119). Both Augustine and Aquinas are considered in AA: see Gillian Clark, “The Fathers and the Animals: The Rule of Reason,” pp. 67–79; Dorothy Yamamoto, “Aquinas and Animals: Patrolling the Boundary?” pp. 80–89. Ethicists and theologians have lamented, in fact, that Christianity has set a dominant framework for neglecting concern for the welfare of animals. This lamenta- tion is evident in Lynn White’s essay “The Historical Roots of Our Ecological Crisis,” which lays the ecological crisis at the foot of Christianity. White’s essay is available in The Care of Creation: Focusing Concern and Action, ed. R. J. Berry (Downers Grove, IL: Intervarsity Press, 2000), pp. 31–42. For further reflection on a strand of Christianity that contrasts with the position I delineate here, see Paul Waldau, The Specter of Speciesism: Buddhist and Christian Views of Animals (New York: Oxford University Press, 2002), p. 178ff. (Waldau includes Irenaeus in his account); Linzey, Animal Theology, pp. 12–15 (directed at Aquinas); Webb, On God and Dogs, p. 28f. (Webb traces the place of vegetarianism through some major figures in early Christian history); Gary Steiner, Anthropocentrism and Its Discontents: The Moral Status of Animals in the History of Western Philosophy (Pittsburgh, PA: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2005) chapter 5 (Steiner notes both traces of the framework I delineate and the more

dominant position found in Augustine and Aquinas). My purpose in selecting passages that do not take the same view as Augustine and Aquinas is to highlight other sources in the Christian tradition, in line with Irenaeus and Ephrem, which contribute to a strand in Christian thought that provides the theological foundation for PTAW. 64 The Ascetical Homilies of St. Isaac the Syrian, edited by Dana Miller (Boston, MA: Holy Transfiguration Monastery, 1984), p. 383. 65 Isaac of Nineveh, Mystic Treatises, translated from Bedjan’s Syriac text with an introduction and registers by A. J. Wensinck (Wiesbaden: M. Sändig oH. G., 1969), LXXIV (p. 341). 66 See Vladimir Lossky, The Mystical Theology of the Eastern Church (Crestwood, NY: St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1976), chapter 5. 67 Ibid., 111; emphasis mine. My use of the term “transformation” is meant to carry the same meaning as Lossky’s “transfiguration.” It may be that transfiguration is a more precise (and thus better) term. 68 See Deirdre Jackson, Marvelous to Behold: Miracles in Medieval Manuscripts (London: The British Library, 2007), p. 28. Jackson includes a wonderful prefatory miniature of the account. 69 Pseudo-Matthew 18, available at http://www.gnosis.org/library/psudomat.htm; Internet, accessed June 25, 2009. 70 Ibid.,p.19. 71 Bauckham, “Jesus and Animals II: What did He Practise?” in AA,p.56. 72 Ibid., p. 58. I must note that while many authors have reached similar conclusions to Bauckham, his view is not universally accepted. For instance, William L. Lane claims that the wilderness motif suggests Jesus’ suffering in the context of unwanted wild beasts. To support this, Lane claims that there is biblical support for paradise being free of the presence of wild animals (Isa. 35:9; Ezek. 34:23–28). See William L. Lane, The Gospel According to Mark, The New International Commentary on the New Testament, ed. F. F. Bruce (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1974), p. 61. However, Lane ignores passages such as Isaiah 11:1–9, which clearly speaks to harmony between humans and both wild and domestic animals on God’s holy mountain. Considering the cosmic mountain motif, where the mountain represents paradise as the meeting place between heaven and earth, the complete denial of wild animals in paradise seems unlikely. On this point, see Jon D. Levenson, Sinai and Zion: An Entry into the Jewish Bible (San Francisco, CA: Harper, 1985), pp. 111–137; cf. Ezekiel 28:13–14. For sources affirming Bauckham’s view of Mark 1:13, see also Richard Dormandy, “Jesus’ temptations in Mark’s gospel: Mark 1:12-13,” Expository Times Vol. 114 (March 2003), p. 184; Jeffrey B. Gibson, “Jesus’ Wilderness Temptation according to Mark,” Journal for the Study of the New Testament Vol. 53 (March 1994), p. 19; Joel B. Green, Salvation (St. Louis, MO: Chalice Press, 2003), p. 125. 73 Bauckham, “Jesus and Animals II: What did He Practise?” p. 59. 74 The examples I delineate here tend toward relationships of individual saints with individual animals. For another, more communal, consideration of the monastic order with the nonhuman creation, see Northcott, “A Creaturely Theology of Non-Violence,” pp. 246–247. 75 Again, in this section I select hagiographies that highlight the strand of Christian thought I am delineating. I am aware of other narratives that fail to fit this strand of thought. For examples of both positive and negative instances, see Ingvild Sælid Gilhus, Animals, Gods and Humans: Changing Attitudes to Animals, in Greek, Roman, and Early Christian Ideas (New York: Routledge, 2006), chapters 9–10 (specifically pp. 191f.). 76 On Silouan, see Kallistos Ware, “The Soul in Greek Christianity” in From Soul to Self,ed.M. James C. Crabbe (New York: Routledge, 1999), p. 65. Ware’s discussion on animals in the Orthodox tradition is further evidence of an ongoing reception of a framework within which PTAW fits. On Anselm, see Dominic Alexander, Saints and Animals in the Middle Ages (Rochester, NY: The Boydell Press, 2008), p. 1. I must deal briefly with Alexander’s work. He provides numerous narratives concerning saints and animals. However, he operates under a few assumptions. First, he assumes that the narratives are fabrications from perhaps actual events. His work feels like a demythologizing of hagiographies. Second, he assumes that the narratives are primarily socio-political or spiritual allegories that have little to do with the saint’s actual interaction with the nonhuman world. See Alexander, Saint and Animals,pp. 14–19. My contention with Alexander’s assumptions is three-fold. First, many of the narratives concerning saints and animals make no explicit (or implicit) self-identification as allegory. Second, as Jackson points out, certain writers who recorded the miracles of saints

and animals identified their own work as historical. Bede, for instance, shows a particular concern for conveying fact instead of fabrication. See Jackson, Marvelous to Behold,p.44. Third, a literal reading of the narratives, given the lack of explicit directions to the contrary, seems to fit within the framework of Jewish thought received through early Christianity and found clearly again in the writings of Isaac of Nineveh. If miraculous peace with nature has precedence in a gospel account as early as Mark and continues through later centuries with Pseudo-Matthew and the works of Isaac, why assume that the accounts in the lives of saints are allegorical? Certainly some fit into this category. For instance, Anselm makes a spiritual illustration concerning the hare seeking to escape the hunters. Nonetheless, his appropria- tion of the event does not necessarily negate the saint’s actual remorse for the plight of animals. Given my reservations with Alexander’s approach coupled with the framework I have established within Christianity, I believe one can rightly interpret the episodes of saints living in harmony with animals as evidence that Christ has restored the saint to the path toward eschatological hope. This view is consistent with Isaac of Nineveh and the framework established by Irenaeus and Ephrem. 77 In Denis’ case, the animal found refuge in the vicinity of his shrine after the saint’s martyr- dom. See Jackson, Marvelous to Behold, p. 35. On Giles, see Jackson, Marvelous to Behold,pp. 38–40. Jackson includes a miniature of Giles and the doe he protected. The picture takes up two pages from the Book of Hours. The contrast on the two pages is worth noting. On the right, the anxious hunter looks toward his prey with anticipation, having released an arrow in the doe’s direction. On the left, the doe sits nuzzled against St. Giles, who, pierced by the hunter’s arrow, rests against a flowering tree topped by a bird. The picture seems to present two very disparate views toward nature. The first is the hunter who anxiously seeks to kill for his benefit; the second is the saint who is pierced for an animal’s protection and sits with the creature in peace. See Jackson, Marvelous to Behold,p.40. 78 Jackson, Marvelous to Behold,p.40. 79 This narrative is not in the Virtues but is attributed in other sources. See Tim Vivian, “The Peaceable Kingdom: Animals as Parables in the Virtues of Saint Macarius,” Anglican Theo- logical Review Vol. 85no. 3 (Summer 2003), pp. 487–488. Vivian notes that the saints concern is also (and perhaps primarily) for the poor. However, the saint’s love enacts the kingdom and evidences the vision of Isaiah 11 (p. 489). 80 Vivian, “The Peaceable Kingdom,” p. 489. 81 Ibid.,p.479. 82 It is here that my approach and conclusion are similar to that of other contemporary ethicists and theologians. For instance, Linzey states, “Living without killing sentients wherever possible is a theological duty laid upon Christians who wish to approximate the peaceable kingdom. Here, as elsewhere, I perceive a major cleavage between those who advance an ‘ecological ethic’ and those who advocate a creation-based liberation theology.” Linzey, Animal Theology, p. 76. Linzey recognizes that this cleavage is best expressed in the language of prolepsis: “[B]y standing against the order of unredeemed nature we becomes signs of the order of existence for which all creatures long.” Linzey, Animal Theology, p. 91. Linzey develops this point further in his recent work, Creatures of the Same God: Explorations in Animal Theology (Brooklyn, NY: Lantern Books, 2009), chapter 4. J. R. Hyland takes up similar themes in God’s Covenant with Animals: A Biblical Basis for the Humane Treatment of All Creatures (Brooklyn, NY: Lantern Books, 2000). Hyland opens his text with some quotations that are pertinent to the position I take in this project (pp. xi–xv). Denis Edwards traces a similar theme of transformative ethics by engaging Athanasius’ incarnational theology. He also works to draw out the ethical implications of this view. See “The Redemption of Animals in an Incarnational Theology,” in Creaturely Theology: On God, Humans and Other Animals, edited by Celia Deane-Drummond and David Clough (London: SCM Press, 2009), pp. 81–99. Southgate also advocated a view in which the role of the human creature is not exhausted with the task of conservation (stewardship), but also includes a redemptive role (co-creation/co-redemption). See Southgate, The Groaning of Creation, chapter 6. On South- gate’s differences from Linzey, see pp. 116–122. For other examples, see Norm Phelps, The Dominion of Love: Animal Rights According to the Bible (Brooklyn, NY: Lantern Books, 2002); Donna Yarri, The Ethics of Animal Experimentation: A Critical Analysis and Constructive Christian Proposal (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), chapter 5; Stanley Hauerwas and John Berkman, “A Trinitarian Theology of the ‘Chief End’ of ‘All Flesh’” in Good News

for Animals? Christian Approaches to Animal Well-Being, edited by Charles Pinches and Jay B. McDaniel (New York: Orbis Books, 1993), pp. 62–74; Stephen H. Webb, Good Eating (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2001), chapter 3; see also Webb’s discussion of his essay, “Ecology Vs. the Peaceable Kingdom,” available online at http://www.wabash.edu/magazine/1997/ summer/features/ecology_vs_peacable.html; Internet; accessed June 2010. In addition to these examples, one finds the framework I have delineated here in the deeply influential voices of Albert Schweitzer and Jürgen Moltmann. In his very fine work on Schweitzer, Ara Paul Barsam highlights Schweitzer’s “practical eschatology.” Says Barsam, “Sch- weitzer’s discussion of cosmic eschatology appears connected with his understanding of the Fall. Though he does not directly address the subject....Hissenseofdiscord in the present alongside his vision of a peaceful future for all creation points back to the notion of a cosmic Fall. Schweitzer’s conception of human redemption (kingdom in the heart) is an integral part of the redemption of all creation (kingdom in the world). The redemption of the human person draws in its wake the redemption of nature. This displays the cosmic eschatological framework in which Schweitzer’s conception of human moral action stands.” Paul Barsam, Reverence for Life: Albert Schweitzer’s Great Contribution to Ethical Thought (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), p. 94. For Moltmann, I turn to Richard Bauckham’s fine summary: “Christian eschatology is the hope that the world will be different. It is aroused by a promise whose fulfilment can come only from God’s eschatological action transcending all the possibilities of history, since it involves the end of all evil, suffering and death in the glory of the divine presence indwelling all things. But it is certainly not therefore without effect in the present. On the contrary, the resurrection set in motion a historical process in which the promise already affects the world and moves in the direction of its future transformation. This process is the universal mission of the church.” Richard Bauckham, The Theology of Jürgen Moltmann (Edinburgh: T&T Clark, 1995), p. 10. For further reflections on Moltmann, see note 82 below. Linzey has highlighted C. S. Lewis’ propensity for the theological framework evident in Irenaeus and Ephrem and ethical ramification of this framework for Lewis’ thought. See Linzey, “C. S. Lewis’s Theology of Animals,” Anglican Theological Review, Vol. 80 no. 1(Winter 1998), pp. 60–81. In a similar vein, Adam McIntosh has traced the same framework in the theology of Karl Barth. See McIntosh, “Human and Animal Relations in the Theology of Karl Barth,” Journal of Melbourne College of Divinity Vol. 22 (February 2009), pp. 20–35. Linzey and McIntosh both note the hesitancy of Lewis and Barth to make legalistic claims based on eschatological hope. Barth, in particular, argues that killing animals is justifiable (with a clear conscience) as a priestly act of humanity in the interim period prior to the eschatological consummation. McIntosh, “Humans and Animals,” p. 23. 83 I am aware of the scientific difficulties in arguing for a pre-lapsarian harmony absent of suffering and death. This difficulty is not absolutely central to my project, as I am merely delineating a theological position within the Christian tradition. However, I believe it is possible to maintain a healthy tension between the theological position of a pre-lapsarian harmony of Eden and the scientific position of extinction prior to human existence. In order to do this, one must view the pre-lapsarian episode as a proleptic calling to humanity. In this approach, the harmony described in Eden serves as an image of where God desires humanity to lead the created order. This approach seems amenable to Moltmann’s work. He recognizes death and suffering as an integral part of the created order. See Jürgen Molt- mann, The Trinity and the Kingdom: The Doctrine of God (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1993), pp. 50–51. However, Moltmann also views creation as in via inasmuch as its eschatological fulfillment is a completion of the good (but imperfect) creation. In this eschatological kingdom, certain things that are part of the natural creation (such as death and suffering) will no longer be an issue. See Moltmann, The Coming of God: Christian Eschatology, translated by Margaret Kohl (Minneapolis, NN: Fortress Press, 1996), pp. 90–93; cf. Geiko Müller-Fahrenholz, The Kingdom and the Power: The Theology of Jürgen Moltmann (Minneapo- lis, MN: Fortress Press, 2001), pp. 206–207; Southgate, The Groaning of Creation, pp. 82–85, 94–95. This eschatological view does open the possibility to view the edenic peace as a proleptic calling. It is little wonder then that Moltmann, in a manner consistent with Albert Schweitzer, maximally expands Jesus’ command of love: “You shall love God and this earth and all your fellow creatures with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might!” Moltmann, The Spirit of Life: A Universal Affirmation, translated by Margaret

Kohl (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1992), p. 72, cf. pp. 94–98. On the continuity with Schweitzer, see Out of My Life and Thought: An Autobiography, translated by Antje Bultmann Lemke (New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1990), p. 235. 84 Certainly, theologians and ethicists who do not accept the framework I have delineated would not, unless moved by some other reason, accept the ethical implications of that framework. However, the acceptance of such a framework does not necessarily secure the ethical implications either. At stake is the question of the extent to which eschatology should affect ethical practice in the present. Karl Barth, for instance, is careful not to overstate the ethical implications of the eschaton. In his view, what is required is a proper outlook about how and for what purpose killing occurs. See McIntosh, “Human and Animal Relations in the Theology of Karl Barth,” pp. 23–24. Christopher Southgate takes a similar position to Barth (leaving aside the belief of edenic creation prior to a cosmic Fall) in his well-written work, The Groaning of Creation. For a consideration of Luther that situates his as a precursor to views like that of Barth and Southgate, see Scott Ickert, “Luther and Animals: Subject to Adam’s Fall?” in AA, pp. 90–99. 85 Isaac of Nineveh, Mystical Treatises, LXXIV.