David Cook
Many moons ago, a small town in Italy had a wolf problem.
The quiet and calm people of Gubbio had become shakily frightened by a large, sharp-toothed wolf that had been threatening their town. Taking up arms, as people often do when they are frightened, the townspeople sought to destroy the wolf. Yet, as is often the case, the creature became more of a ghost, eluding the swords and staffs of the townspeople time and time again.
During this time, a man named Francis (we often call him St. Francis) was living among the people of Gubbio, and aware of their trouble. Francis was a man consumed by Christ-compassion, and sought to help bring peace to the situation. Leaving behind the swords of the town, Francis walked out the Gubbio gates, and into the woods, empty-handed. The people begged and pleaded with him not to go; surely the wolf will eat you alive, they cried. The saint only smiled.
A short time later, among the rocks and trees and streams of the woods, the wolf appeared, his mouth open in a snarl, his teeth glittering in the sunlight. Yet instead of threats and traps, Francis knelt down and spoke to the wolf: do not be afraid, he said gently, for I come in peace.
The legend goes that the wolf, overcome with authentic Love, bowed its head at Francis's feet. The two became fast friends, perhaps even brothers, and Francis escorted the wolf back into the town, where the people stood, caught in wonder at the sight before them.
Francis opened his hand, and the wolf placed his paw there, a sign that there would be peace between the wolf and the town forevermore. And it was true: the wolf lived many more years, wagging its tail as it went door to door among the town, receiving food and pats on the head and, we may imagine, even a belly-rub now and then.
St. Francis lived and died in the 13th century, and is known for his outrageous scenes of mercy: embracing a leper in the middle of the road, tearing the clothes from his back and casting them at his wealthy father's feet in a gesture of intentional poverty, and, perhaps most famously, his love for animals. After his death, he was commissioned the Patron Saint of Animals.
Perhaps we should do the same for Steve Irwin.
Earlier this week, Australia's best mate, commonly known to the world as the Crocodile Hunter, died while filming a documentary off the Great Barrier Reef. Irwin was swimming in the ocean when a sting ray struck him with its long, poisonous barb. Appropriately, the barb struck Irwin's heart, as if drawn to the very place where Irwin kept the root of his deep compassion and knowledge of the animal world.
Irwin's Crocodile Hunter television show began its broadcast in the early 1990s, and since then, millions of people across the earth have seen his hilarious, compassionate, and above all, authentic exploits. He wrestled (or hugged?) crocodiles, chased snakes, swam with sharks, all in an attempt to educate. He loved most the misfit animals, the ones that have drawn a bad lot in the stories we tell ourselves: the myth of Jaws, the bad snake in Genesis, the images we see on television or movies or in our own fear. Like Francis, he sought to make peace between the people and the creatures. He saw what we do not: animals are not ours to subdue or dominate (another tragically misunderstood myth from Genesis) and that the animal world is not one bloody red in tooth and claw, as the poet Tennyson believed, and many generations to follow accepted (westward-bound Americans, by some counts, killed 500 million animals between 1850 and 1900. Buffalo were shot until cowboy guns ran out of bullets. Wolves killed for government-sponsored bounty.)
Irwin and Tennyson would have butted heads, for the Crocodile Hunter seemed in love with animals, instead of threatened by them. Nature was red in tooth and claw because of man's fear and ignorance. Irwin grieved openly at the cruelty he encountered: animals shackled like slaves, brutally and thoughtlessly killed for their tusks or meat or horns or hides, cast aside as if they did not matter. This, I imagine, were his nightmares, the deepest ache of his sensitive heart.
And this is why he was such an incredibly popular bloke. Because people recognized his authenticity; we were drawn to it. We gasped at his courage to enter into the midnight swamp and hold his breath to swim with boas or crocodiles or sharks. We chuckled at his jokes, and smiled at his shameless boy-ish infatuation with the creatures he encountered. And when he came out of the ocean or jungle or river or desert, khakis soaked with seawater or sweat, we felt some peace at the message he carried: this wilderness isn’t really that wild. These animals are not our enemies. These animals, as one Alaskan Indian once said, know far more than we do. The still small voice inside us seemed to nod and say "yes'' at the end of every episode.
I hope before he died that Steve Irwin heard the story of the wolf of Gubbio, for I think he would have liked it. He would have understood the fear and anger of the townspeople, and their (our) tendency to reach for the sword. He would have understood the wolf's violence, living in a world with its back against the wall. He would have understood Francis's faith and trust in the Love that unites, like a great spider web, all creatures together (lion, lamb and man). He would have known immediately the tone of voice that Francis used to speak to the wolf, the way he knelt down, the way he touched the wolf's head for the first time, gently, one friend to another, for Irwin had done the same thing a thousand times over.
Irwin's family turned down a state-sponsored funeral (Australia loved him that much), his father saying that Steve would rather be remembered as an "ordinary bloke. In Irwin's honor and memory, a final story from the St. Francis lore:
One day Francis gathered his friends together to preach to them in the woods. Nearby, high in the trees, a flock of birds continue to sing, louder and louder, until Francis could not be heard by his followers. Francis, probably with another smile on his face, excused himself from the crowd and walked towards the birds, and began speaking to them. My sisters, he called to them, would you mind quieting down so that these people may hear what I have to say?
And, as he turned back around to rejoin his followers, the birds grew silent, and remained quiet until Francis was done preaching.
I think Steve Irwin would have also smiled at this legend, nodding in understanding, for he spoke the language of the animals as well. But perhaps Irwin would have altered the story a bit.
In the legends that will be told of St. Steve, perhaps his story ends differently. Perhaps he instead asks the people to be quiet, and silent, so we may listen to what the animals have to say.
(David Cook is a former journalist for the Chattanooga Times-Free Press. He currently teaches American history at Girls Preparatory School and can be reached at dcook7@gmail.com)
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Misunderstood myths?
Why do I torture myself reading David Cook’s articles? I don’t know. I must have some deep-seeded need to see what outrageous, bizarre and scary thoughts are out there. What is even worse is the fact that this guy is a teacher of young minds at GPS.
In Mr. Cook’s latest article, a tribute to Steve Irwin, he cannot talk about anything without attacking Christianity or the Bible. Mr. Cook is best known for his pseudo-Christian, mystic-filled, far out aliens are out there, worship the mother earth stories. In this article, he refers to the Bible accounts in Genesis as myth and complete misunderstands the meaning.
Mr. Cook feels that there is no way that Christianity, real faith, worship of the one True God and animal husbandry or botany are compatible. When in fact, it is the Scriptures that we find the truth, not myth Mr. Cook, about man’s role in this world.
Mankind is God’s highest creation. Only man is created in the image of God. Only man has been given an eternal soul. He was also given the responsibility to care for the rest of God’s creation. The biblical terms of subduing the earth and have dominion or the creatures of the earth are not man given commands but from God. So who should be believed about truth and myth, Mr. Cook a lowly history teacher or God Almighty? My money is on the latter and not the former.
It is not thousands of years of human history that is out of whack, it is Mr. Cook and these wacko environmentalist ideas that somehow baby seals are worth saving when millions of human babies are aborted.
Steve Irwin was a prime example of God’s command to man. Steve had dominion over those animals. He rescued animals that would have died otherwise and could not help themselves. He had the ability to train, collect and demonstrate that animals are wonderful creations of God.
Mr. Cook’s problem is that he loves a form of religion without obedience to the Maker of this creation. He respects mother earth and not the heavenly Father. Man did not create the commands of Genesis. They are the inspired words of God Himself and what role He wants man to fulfill. You can argue with Word all day, Mr. Cook, but the truth is still the truth and you cannot deem them myth.
Cliff Sarbel
sarbelcliff@yahoo.com
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I’m going to ignore the previous reply attacking Mr. Cook’s tribute to Steve Irwin – what a shame that someone decided to voice their opinion on religion during such a solemn time. Solemn to my family anyway. My children grew up watching Steve & Terri – then later Bindi too. My husband is from Australia, so in some way we felt we could relate to the Irwins. Steve was our champion.
Growing up is very difficult and confusing for children – especially in this day and age. Television only adds to that confusion. Childhood is not something to be cherished and enjoyed slowly – day by day. There is a constant rush to grow up. Children are pressured into both looking and acting older than their age. The natural world around them is the first to fall to the wayside. Computers and video games – Internet and cellphones – those are the things that have replaced the wonder of watching baby birds being fed by their mother – or a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.
That is what the Crocodile Hunter brought back into the spotlight. Steve brought nature conservancy and appreciation for wildlife into every home in America – across the world in fact. Everyone knew who he was – even if they had not seen his show – they knew about him – and they knew his message. His show was one that our whole family could watch together – enjoy – and then better yet – actually learn something from. How many shows can you say that about these days?
I have been in mourning this week. Sounds funny I know. I thought that about people who I saw on TV crying after Princess Diana was killed. They had never even met her. Well, I had never met Steve Irwin either. But now I think I understand.
Mandy Loorham
Summerville, Ga.
dingo4@alltel.net
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I, too, choose to ignore Mr. Sarbel's diatribe because I'm not sure to which article he is referring. The David Cook letter I read showed great Biblical compassion towards the animals and a beautiful tribute to Steve Irwin.
Where is there an attack on Christianity in his article? You don't have a clue what you're talking about, Mr. Sarbel.
June Boxman
Hixson
junieboxman@yahoo.com