For John Raven, Beloved Husband of a Circle Sister
Hansen Funeral Home, Beloit, Wisconsin
August 28, 2001

I met John 6 years ago as my friend Lisa's husband. I got to know him as a welcoming host, an enthusiastic storyteller, a responsible and active father, a spiritual person quite vocal about his beliefs, an adult working hard on personal growth issues, a man who could fix anything, who was proud to be able to provide for his family and to help his friends. Most of all, I knew John to be a soft touch for any animal in need. In these last few months since his accident, I have also seen how loved and respected John is by family, friends, and community.

It was the spiritual John I knew best. He often shared his thoughts and experiences with me, and I'd like to share some of them with you today.

First, John was raised close to God. He never outgrew the spiritual truths he learned as a child. He could quote Bible verses with the best of us, and he did, and he could be as feisty as necessary in spiritual debates, as some of you know.

John had an active spiritual life, though he wasn't much of a church-goer as an adult. He felt closest to his Creator under a tree, in a park, around a bonfire in his own back yard. He felt a deep affinity with Native American spiritualities. He said regular prayers to God in bed at night before sleep, and he frequently prayed to Mother Earth and Father Sky over an open fire.

John's spiritual counselor was a woman named Odra, but his spiritual teachers were animals. In this regard, John saw no conflict between Native beliefs and those he learned as a child. Maybe he remembered Job 12, verses 7 & 8:

"But ask the animals, and they will teach you [Job said], or the birds of the air, and they will tell you; or speak to the earth, and it will teach you, or let the fish of the sea inform you."

Maybe he was guided by Ecclesiastes 3, verses 18-20:

"As for men, God tests them so that they may see that they are like the animals. Man's fate is like that of the animals; the same fate awaits them both: As one dies, so dies the other. All have the same breath; man has no advantage over the animal….All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return. Who knows if the spirit of man rises upward and if the spirit of the animal goes down into the earth?"

The red-tailed hawk was one of John's most enduring spiritual teachers. John saw these magnificent birds often, and in his first days at St. Anthony's Hospital in Rockford, they circled over the hospital, occasionally swooping low over the parking lot when someone came to visit John. The red-tail, a hunting bird, a predator, taught John to focus and to pay attention to details -- which I saw him do under the hood of a car, and which many of you saw when he was on the softball field, at the martial arts studio, and on a construction site.

John's family will tell you that deer almost always appeared when he went out into nature. From these quiet, beautiful, vulnerable animals, John learned to be still, to go within, to search his soul, and to seek Divine Guidance.

Some of you may have heard the story of the Great Horned Owl who slammed into John's chest when he was riding his motorcycle, late for a martial arts class. Many of you know how disciplined and devoted to martial arts he was [John was a 4th-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do], yet here we get a glimpse of John's devotion to animals. Though he was late, he held onto the owl, pulled off the road, and got off his bike, holding the owl until he was sure it was okay. He said he spent a long time gazing into its eyes, and he waited for the owl to walk away before he got back on his motorcycle. By then, he said, all the anxiety of the work week, and the stress of being late to class, had completely left him, and he was filled with peace.

Now don't get me wrong. John didn't confuse animals with God. He did not worship animals, but he did love them as companions, respect them as teachers, and acknowledge them as members of God's community. Most importantly, though, John served them, acting as a steward to animals in need. He climbed an icy tree at night in the middle of winter for a friend, to rescue a kitten who belonged to no one. He once faced down a pack of wild dogs that had treed his cat, Pooh Head, in the pines behind his house. He opened his home to cats, dogs, rabbits, birds, chipmunks, possums and raccoons, if they needed it, and he kept a running tab at the vet's office.

As you know, John is survived by a wife and children, by his mother, siblings, brother- and sisters-in-law, and by nieces and nephews whom he adored, and who loved to play with their Uncle John. But know also that he is survived by his dog, Sugar, his eight cats (Pooh Head, Lucky, Felix, Fussy, Spooky, Silver, Stripe, and Squirrely), and by his parrot, Beauty. I honor John's spirit today by telling you that 4 of his cats, the "S" cats--Spooky, Silver, Stripe and Squirrely--need new homes. If you are thinking about a way to memorialize John, to honor his memory, think about carrying on his tradition. Adopt one of his cats or help Lisa, Dennis & Eugene find homes for them; make a contribution to an animal shelter or sanctuary; give a home or find a home for the next stray that wanders into your yard. And when you find yourself missing John, build a bonfire, put some food out on the table, and invite friends and family to share a good time. Clearly, John enjoyed a good time.

I finish with a quote inspired by the Beauty Way, a prayer ceremony of the Navajo, or Dine, people.

"Now on the trail of Beauty, I am. Now I walk in Beauty.
Beauty behind me, with it I return.
Beauty before me, with it I return.
Beauty above me, with it I return.
Beauty below me, with it I return.
Beauty all around me, with it I return.
Now on the trail of beauty, I am. Now I walk in Beauty.
With Mother Earth and Father Sky, I walk in Beauty, I walk in Beauty, I walk in Beauty"

Aho, Blessed Be, and Amen.