Can We Pray for Animals?

The Story of a Kanaani Cat, Halakha, and Kabbalah

Kabbalah teaches that nothing happens by chance. Every moment, every encounter, is woven into a larger pattern. Sometimes it takes only a single event—or even the presence of an animal—to open a new path in life. For me, that thread of destiny took the form of a rare Israeli cat, the Kanaani.

My journey began back in 1996, when I met Rabbi Zalman Liberow, my first rabbi in America. He played a crucial role in shaping my spiritual life. It was from him that I first heard the words of the Lubavitcher Rebbe about baalei teshuva. Years later, he gave me Rabbi Asa Keisar’s book Before The Blind, a work exploring the Torah’s perspective on animal welfare. For me, it was a confirmation: compassion for animals is not a modern invention but deeply rooted in Torah itself.

Years later, while studying at the rabbinical school JSLI, Rabbi Steven Blane led a class on blessing animals and their place in Judaism. At first, it seemed like just one more class in the curriculum. Yet it completely changed my perception. After that lesson, I felt compelled to seek out and protect a Kanaani cat, a breed now on the verge of extinction.

And here is where the story took a surprising turn: it was through this Kanaani that I was led to Reverend Sarah Bowen, a global leader in animal chaplaincy. First, I had a conversation with her over Zoom where I told her the story of my search for the Kanaani. Then, during my very first class, something remarkable happened. At the end of the session, my cat Laila—a five-month-old Kanaani girl—suddenly climbed up onto the back of my chair. Sarah noticed her and asked: “Is that her?” I smiled and replied: “Yes! She came to meet you.”

In that moment, I realized something profound: animals sense more than we imagine. Even through Zoom, Laila seemed to know her story was being told and decided to “join in.” Kabbalists teach that cats in particular have a special sensitivity, even the ability to perceive the spiritual world. Watching Laila, I could believe it.

And since then, one question has never left me: can we pray for animals?

Prophets and Sages: An Ancient Bond

The very first human, Adam, was given the task of naming all the animals (Genesis 2:19). In Kabbalistic thought, naming means revealing the essence, uncovering the root of the soul. In Eden itself, humanity began its dialogue with the animal world.

Later, Noah became the guardian of all creation. He saved “two of every kind” (Genesis 6:19), feeding and caring for each species aboard the Ark. Midrash tells us that Noah was once even injured by a lion in the Ark—an almost symbolic reminder that his stewardship was not easy, but an act of sacrifice and devotion.

Our forefathers—Avraham, Yitzhak, and Yaakov—were shepherds, shaping their faith while tending their flocks. Moshe, according to Midrash, carried a lost lamb on his shoulders; for this act of compassion, God said: This is the shepherd who will lead My people. King David guarded sheep and later wrote psalms filled with images of animals.

Eliahu ha-Navi was sustained by ravens in the wilderness. Shlomo ha-Melekh understood the language of birds and beasts. These are not just legends but reminders: God speaks to us even through animals.

And consider Rabbi Yehuda ha-Nasi, Prince of Israel, the redactor of the Mishnah. The Talmud tells us that he once drove away a calf seeking refuge with him and, as a result, suffered for many years. Only when he later showed mercy to small creatures—mice, whom he commanded not to be harmed—did his suffering cease. The destiny of Israel’s Prince was tied to his treatment of animals.

The Talmud also teaches: “Had the Torah not been given, we could have learned modesty from the cat, diligence from the ant, loyalty from the dove, and order from the rooster” (Eruvin 100b). And Rav Pappa added: “In a house where there is a cat, there is no fear of snakes.”

And when I look at Laila, my young Kanaani, I see these teachings come alive.

Halakha: The Law of Mercy

The Talmud sets forth the principle of tza’ar ba’alei chayim—the prohibition against causing suffering to animals. Most rabbinic authorities consider this a Torah commandment. The Shulchan Arukh rules that even if an enemy’s animal is suffering under a burden, one must help relieve it.

The mitzvot of the Torah directly include animals: On Shabbat, both humans and livestock must rest. The ox may not be muzzled while threshing. A mother bird must be sent away before taking her young. These are not sentimental gestures but divine laws of compassion.

Kabbalah: Seeing the World Through Different Eyes

Kabbalah teaches that every creature carries within it nitzotzot—sparks of Divine light. When we pray for animals, we lift those sparks and return them to their Source. This is tikkun olam—the repair of the world.

The Baal Shem Tov taught that love for animals refines the heart. I feel this truth deeply.

During Sarah Bowen’s class, we were shown a striking image: on one side, the world as humans see it; on the other, the world as seen by a bee. To us, the scene was filled with familiar greens. To the bee, it was entirely different—shades invisible to our eyes, ultraviolet hues beyond our spectrum.

Isn’t that extraordinary? The same world, yet utterly different perceptions. Birds, I understand, may even see a wider spectrum than we do. The message is simple: no one sees the full picture. Every species perceives reality in its own way.

This is a Kabbalistic lesson. To respect the vision of another. To accept the world as they see it.

The Practice of Prayer

There is no separate section in the Siddur for animals. Yet our ancestors prayed for what mattered most: for their flocks, for their bees, for their fishponds.

So today, we too may pray—for our pets, for endangered species, for animals in the wild, and for those who bring joy into our homes. We may turn to the Psalms of David. In their verses, our requests and our gratitude find a voice.

Conclusion

My path began with Rabbi Zalman Liberow in 1996. Later, Rabbi Steven Blane’s class inspired me to search for the Kanaani. That search led me to Reverend Sarah Bowen. And during her first class, Laila—a five-month-old Kanaani girl—came to greet her.

Isn’t that a sign? Animals are not only the objects of our care but often our guides along the spiritual path.

From the perspective of Halakha, we may pray for animals. From the perspective of Kabbalah, we must.

And here is what I have come to understand: When we pray for animals, we learn how to be more human. We learn modesty from the cat, diligence from the ant, loyalty from the dove, order from the rooster, and trust from the calf.

And then… our hearts grow softer. We draw closer to the Creator. And the world around us fills with light.