When Ministry Goes to the Dogs

Frederic Gaillard grew tired of talking about the dogs.

Gaillard is a monk at the hospice of St. Bernard, in the Swiss Alps. The dogs of St. Bernard have been the stuff of legend, rescuing snowbound travelers, injured climbers, and avalanche victims; and they carried out their mission while toting a cask of brandy around their necks. These huge heroic animals have been linked to St. Bernard by name and popular imagination since 1695 a.d. But in September 2004, Gaillard announced that the eighteen St. Bernard dogs would have to go.

When people heard the monks were selling their dogs, they were horrified. It was unthinkable heresy. To many it was no different than saying there would be no more Swiss chocolate, or Swiss bank accounts. So Father Gaillard has been deluged with phone calls and media requests, asking him to explain himself.

Gaillard gave a few good reasons why St. Bernard monks had no more need for a canine namesake. For one thing, the monks were overwhelmed with the work. Each of the eighteen dogs eats four to five pounds of food a day, and needs regular vigorous exercise. Since the number of monks keeps decreasing, the workload kept getting heavier.

In addition, St. Bernards are no longer needed for rescuing the stranded. Helicopters are much faster. And when dogs are needed, the local rescue squad uses German shepherds and Labradors because they fit into the helicopter.

This story grabbed my attention when I read Father Gaillard's bottom line reason for getting rid of the dogs. The St. Bernards were a distraction from the ministry to actual people. "We think it's better to spend more of our time listening to people," Gaillard said. The dogs "take up too much energy. It's people that need us."

St. Bernards hospice was founded in 1050 a.d., some 650 years before the first dog showed up. But for the last 300 years the hospice has been mostly about dogs. The monks spent their time cleaning kennels, buying dog food, breeding and selling puppies. At first, this was a justifiable part of their mission. Those dogs were essential in rescuing people caught in the snowy alpine pass. But a St. Bernard had not been used in a rescue attempt in more than 50 years. All that remained was tradition, memories, and eighteen vinyl record dogs in a compact disk world.

I constantly wonder where the St. Bernards in the church are hiding. What are those methods we cling to that once had a purpose, but no longer? Where are the programs that once served us well, but now require resources just to keep alive?

May God help us to keep focused on our original calling and not to expend energy in caring for rescue dogs that no longer rescue. May he give us wisdom to recognize things that have outlived their effectiveness and courage to remove whatever may distract from our purpose. No “kennel” is worth more than the Kingdom.