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onday afternoon I had to wait a couple of hours to pick up some glass I was having cut at the glaziers, and so I decided to take in a film. I did not particularly want to see Seabiscuit, but I decided to take it in and I am glad that I did. I do recommend it.

It is an elegant movie, capturing much of what I think America in the 1930’s must have been like. The clothes, the cars, the architecture and decoration were all evocative of an era before I was born, but one which greatly shaped my parent’s generation. I could imagine my father in some of the scenes, particularly those in which desperately poor people from the south headed to California because the streets were, so they said, paved with gold.

The movie is a simple one. It is about the underdog coming from behind to achieve victory. As one line puts it, the film tells the story of a jockey who was too big and a horse that was too small to win anything, but win they did.

In a sense—and I know I am stretching things to say this—the movie is about redemption. How we get ourselves out of the awful situation in which we find ourselves when we are isolated from God, from those around us, deprived of meaning and bereft of purpose. And the figure of redemption in this film is the horse, Seabiscuit. The owner of the horse goes from being a deeply grieved man who has endured the death of his young son—to a stronger and more confident man who supports a jockey who is down and out. The jockey goes from being a brawler and street fighter to a figure of integrity and victory. The horse and its owner and rider regain dignity and purpose and achieve major victories on all levels. The horse is the figure of redemption.

And, there is nothing wrong with that. The role of animals in shaping the lives of human beings is a role with which many people feel very comfortable. But, in passing, at least, I want to point out that taken just at that level, this insight is not particularly Christian. And, God knows it does not need to be. The writers and director of the film were not engaging in Christian theology, but I certainly am, so to their film, I would add these comments.

First, human beings do not discover their purpose and regain their dignity in any lasting way through relationship with animals.

Animals may point the way, but the way is actually discerned by wrestling with the vagaries of human history, politics, and community life. The whole sweep of Old Testament history, in my view at least, is to this point: God is revealed in the warp and weft of human history.

The role of our relationship with animals is secondary, derivative, and indicative. Having had two dogs, I can tell you that my dogs made a better man of me, but the test of that growth was in how I engaged the human world around me. Knowing Rachel and Daniel, my two shepherd dogs, helped me to become more tender and gentle, but that human growth was not really useful until I applied it to human relationships. Seabiscuit helped his owners grow and change, but the growth and change really counted when it was applied to the other loving relationships within the story.

Second, our relationship with animals should point us to God. If we learn to be more caring by caring for an animal, that growth should tell us that God is a caring God. If we find companionship with animals, that companionship should remind us that the only ultimate, eternal companionship is that we enjoy with the God who created us. Dogs—and even horses—wear out and leave us with only memories. The One who is eternal is the One who created them, and that primary position is occupied, properly, only by God.

It was a delightful movie. As you can see, it prompted me to think about some popular cultural values and some ways in which the Christian faith is similar and yet also differs from those popular values. I hope you see the film and have a similar productive experience.

By the Rev’d Lloyd Prator, Rector
Saint John’s in the Village
Episcopal Church, New York City