Bobi the Ecumenical Cat: A Fluffy Tale of Warmth and Unity

Bobi is cute. He knows it.  At times when he spots you watching him, he will take his time to find the perfect spot to sit and with an air of practiced elegance, he slowly coils his tail around his paws, tapping them rhythmically as if counting beats in a ‘Bless the Lord my soul’ melody only he can hear. Then he eases his front legs down, bending them with deliberate precision like a dancer lowering himself into a final pose. When loafing, he’d turn his m-shaped head and lock eyes with you, forcing a smile on your face. His gaze, rich with mystery and mischief tells a story of content. Those who’ve met Bobi say he loves it when his tie is perfectly captured in all his pictures. “It’s a mark of my identity. Me and this tie go way back!” Bobi says.

I first met Bobi during the Bossey 24-25 cohort orientation. He, like the Bossey staff, was present to accord students a cordial welcome. Bobi is in charge of inviting visitors to Petite Bossey and Grange. We crossed paths again during the Joint working group 2024 meetings and as you already realize, Bobi is a busy host, only available when important guests are in town and when he personally desires to make an impromptu. I was on a bike when I saw him taking a break during the 2024 Nicaea conference and being only the third time, I had spotted this rare master, I felt obliged to say stop and say hi.

Bobi didn’t attend any of the six keynote addresses or the 40 plus paper presentations made in different panels at the Nicaea conference. He was busy. His role is to help you unwind and relax after a long day’s work. He also makes sure that no mysterious creatures wander into your space while you’re away. At times, guests close the main house doors for fear that Bobi may at times do the things mysterious creatures like cats, dogs or whatever you find mysterious do when they enter your house. When not inviting or seeing off guests, Bobi is always prowling through the trees and clusters of flowers, on the lookout for prey. He has been in this grind his whole life, with an instinct fine-tuned for it.

To juggle his responsibilities as both a companion and a hunter, Bobi follows one of two routines. There’s his mid-morning patrol, where he lazily stretches, then winds his way through Grange hostel, giving a nod (or maybe a slow blink) to those heading out for the day. Or if he’s feeling more like an evening host, he’ll wait until late afternoon to trot along the flower lined path beside Celigny drive, offering his quiet, watchful welcome as people return. True to his feline nature however, Bobi’s concentration span is a bit… selective. After about 10 minutes, he’s off. Whether to chase a leaf, relieve himself under a bush or simply play (we have this in common).

Bobi has no clue who his guests are, or where they come from. He couldn’t name their countries, their cultures, or their titles even if you offered him a pile of treats as a reward. He has no idea his latest guests were here for a conference called “Towards Nicaea 2025: Exploring the Council’s Ecumenical Significance Today.” Bobi can’t even rattle off the Nicene Creed or any other creed for that matter. And while his guests, who’ve traveled miles, braving airports, trains, and who knows what else, sit together to discuss how vastly different they are, and how those differences make unity feel like a distant dream, Bobi is blissfully unaware.

What he’s aware of is this: there’s a time for everything, and a role for everyone. For nearly eight years, Bobi has played his part. No one knows how he got the job, but somehow, he’s become the cheerful, fluffy overseer of this gathering space. He’s happy with it. He loves it. His male, female, and… maybe nonbinary friends (does a cat even care about gender?) must have asked him, “Don’t you think sticking with one job for so long looks bad on your CV?”

“Cat please!” Bobi must have responded with a smooth and nonchalant flick of his tail and stretched luxuriously on the windowsill, watching the world outside.

It’s not about the labels or the titles for Bobi. It’s about people, all kinds of people, coming together, having a space to be their true selves, even when they don’t always agree. Bobi just knows that wherever he is, there’s always room for more belly rubs (be it from Anglicans, Methodists, Orthodox, Pentecostals, Muslims, Monk name it), and more opportunities for good food. And that’s what makes him the happiest cat in the ecumenical movement.

Being an ecumenical cat? Now that’s a gig. They treat you like royalty, tender care, good medical, and the food? Well, let’s just say, it’s not gourmet, but it’s a steady supply of pellets at precisely 1900 hours. Nothing too heavy, just the right balance to keep a cat like Bobi in top shape. Or, well, as top-shape as a 10-kilogram cat can be. Bobi might not fit the typical cat standard, but then again, Bobi isn’t just any cat. He’s a cat who’s earned every ounce of his fluff and extra weight.

“You can’t be overweight when you’re good to people,” Bobi says with a wise flick of his tail, a glint in his green eyes. He knows the rules. He also knows that every time he makes a guest feel welcome, his body seems to grow, not in a way that’s unhealthy, but in a way that makes him feel fuller, more expansive, more him. It’s as if his kindness adds a few grams of extra fluff with every well-placed purr or nuzzle.

And he’s earned it. That’s the thing. He’s become known for his good nature, especially among humans. They come to him, not just for a place to gather, but for the kind of warmth that only Bobi can provide. They even speak of him in reverent tones, like a little furry ambassador of kindness. As the Rev. Dr. Susan Durber puts it, humans are “grappling for a language to speak of unity that is rooted in the unity of God.” But Bobi doesn’t need to grapple. He just shows up, purrs loudly, and listens, showing others that sometimes, unity doesn’t need to be spoken, just felt or displayed even in places that bring us together. Like the eukarist.

Each day, Bobi greets the guests with an elegant stretch and a gentle meow, as if to say, “Welcome home,”