“When the Magi departed, behold, the angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, ‘Rise, take the child and his mother, flee to Egypt, and stay there until I tell you. Herod is going to search for the child to destroy him.’ Joseph rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed for Egypt. He stayed there until the death of Herod, that what the Lord had said through the prophet might be fulfilled, ‘Out of Egypt I called my son.’” (Matthew 2:13-15)

Mary was not especially fond of animals. Understandable, perhaps, considering that she had undergone the trauma of childbirth surrounded by noisy, smelly critters. She was once heard to say: “Oy vey! If I never hear the lowing of cattle or the bleating of sheep again it will be too soon.” So during their sojourn in Egypt after the birth of Jesus, it was Joseph – gentle, quiet, practical Joseph – who had decided that what the Holy Family needed was a pet cat. The Egyptians, of course, were crazy about cats, seeing in them a mystical link between heaven and earth, and messengers of divine intervention in the affairs of men. Having experienced the grace of divine messaging himself, Joseph agreed with his Egyptian neighbors that it might be nice to have a feline around the house… to serve as a reminder of the singular fact that God himself had come to dwell among us. Plus, it would help control varmints, he reasoned… and would teach the boy Jesus how to care for little creatures. Mary, as she so often did, deferred to the suggestion of her wise and just spouse. And so it was that Lily – a handsomely regal, reddish-tan Abyssian with golden eyes – came into the lives of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

When Jesus was still an infant, Lily would curl up beside the child’s crib and gaze intently – as cats do – at the scene around and above her young human companion. Her eyes and ears fixated on realities imperceptible to human senses, as if she could still detect the angelic strains of “Glory to God in the highest” that had been heard not so long ago in Bethlehem by certain shepherds tending their flocks by night. Occasionally Joseph would notice this and marvel at the idea that they were constantly surrounded and guided and protected by real but unseen forces.

Lily, naturally, accompanied the Holy Family upon their eventual return to Nazareth, and adapted to daily life in the bustling little home that Joseph and Mary made for themselves and Jesus. She enjoyed pouncing playfully at the wood shavings that fell to the floor in the shop where the boy Jesus helped Joseph ply his trade. She would hunt varmints around the house, and lay them proudly at the feet of her small human friend – who learned from Lily how to graciously accept even the most meager of gifts offered up in a spirit of selflessness. She would nip and bite at her Master’s hand – occasionally drawing blood – and taught Jesus what it felt like to be hurt by one that he loved. On such occasions, Jesus would quickly forgive Lily, aware that she knew not what she did. And late at night, when Jesus and his parents would rest after the completed prayers and work of another day, Lily would snuggle up next to her Master and purr contentedly as she sensed the growing power and purpose of Jesus’s thumping human heart. In such quiet moments, Jesus came to value the immense power of touch and restorative healing that one living being could bring to another.

For reasons unclear to the young Jesus, Lily never had a litter of kittens to call her own, but she was never at a loss for other stray animals in the neighborhood to accompany and look out for and call her own. Jesus noticed that Lily gravitated to the runts and the sickly critters that no self-respecting cat wanted anything to do with. In Lily they found a gentle protector and guardian, and Jesus tried to emulate her in how he treated the other kids in his little village. God, Jesus reasoned, must surely love the least among them.

His friends were always amused by Lily when they would come over to play. Most of them just had pet goats and sheep, so the unique presence of this exotic little cat made the home of Joseph and Mary something of a draw. The kids would take turns scratching Lily behind the ears and grabbing her tail and giving her little treats, and Lily accepted the attention – usually – with patience and grace. Eventually, though, even Lily needed a break, and would just quietly trot off to a quiet corner of the house to stretch out and recharge. Jesus realized that he needed to do that sometimes, too, and made it a lifelong habit to catch little catnaps when the frenzy of life was starting to wear on him.

As Jesus grew and matured over time, so did Lily. Her catnaps grew longer, her bursts of energy became less frequent, and she didn’t jump up on things as eagerly as she had done as a kitten. She seemed to age differently than her human companions. Jesus noticed that he was growing stronger and more robust as Lily was slowing down. He marveled at the great mystery of the passage of time – something that seemed strange to him – and came to know that the Creator has unique times and seasons for all of his creatures. Jesus trusted that God knew what He was doing.

 Along with Lily, Joseph seemed to be slowing down just as Jesus was reaching the peak of his vitality. And when – in God’s time – Joseph died, Lily of course was there to console her humans. Even Mary had come to be fond of Lily by that point, and the intuitive feline tenderly licked at the many tears that were shed by her human friends. Back in Egypt, when the Holy Family had shed so many tears upon hearing of the slaughter by Herod in Bethlehem, their Egyptian neighbors told them that cats symbolized the promise and hope of immortality. (Cats do have nine lives, after all.) Lily spent many hours curled up in the sunlight of Joseph’s quiet, empty workshop during that difficult time. As if she knew that the old carpenter yet lived on somewhere else.

And when the day came that old Lily drew her last feline breath in the arms of her Master, Jesus again wept… and mourned… and then confidently entrusted whatever remained of Lily to the Father who so graciously lavishes the world with such beautiful creatures. By then, Jesus knew that death was not the end of a life but rather the transformation of it. He recalled the Egyptian neighbors of his earliest youth, who had told Jesus that felines step gingerly through life with two paws in time and two paws in eternity. And as much as Jesus was perturbed by the reality of death in our fallen world, he knew that eventually the Creator would make a new heaven and new earth, where death would be no more – and all God’s creation would glorify him forever. Yes—even cats like Lily.

 Eventually, Jesus left Nazareth to embark on the adventure for which he had come into the world, and Mary kind of wished that Lily was still there slinking around the house to take naps with her and remind her of her grown little boy. And when Jesus visited the homes of so many people during his ministry, encountering so many family pets, he always smiled and thought of the little cat that had helped him grow up to be the man that God needed him to be. And he thanked God for Lily.

We needn’t imagine any fanciful miracles worked on animals by the boy Jesus—as some folks in the early Church were inclined to do—to bolster our faith in Christ’s divinity. But we can and should reflect on the simple experiences of his daily life, which bolster our appreciation for the goodness of his—and our—humanity. The loving Creator who made you and me and all creatures—and who gave us his own Son in time—is working through the smallest hidden circumstances of our lives to shape us into the good people he needs us to be. May the year ahead bring you opportunities to appreciate and learn and grow from whatever large or small things God puts in your life.