Canine Theology
My Dear People,
Welcome to Lent. Below is my homily for today, Ash Wednesday.
With prayers for a holy
and life-giving Lent,
your brother in
Christ,
Wallace+
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Each summer my family and I spend a week in Vermont, in the beautiful little town of Woodstock, where my wife Gena grew up, and where her parents still live. Along with taking long, leisurely walks, and meals at our favorite spots in the area, there are also a number of shops that we are always sure to visit.
One establishment, at which we make an annual stop, is a novelty shop situated right in the heart of town. We rarely buy anything, but it's always fun to go, to see the kitsch, the colorful curiosities of all sorts.
Well, the cards they sell are always of interest, and there was one card in particular, I'll never forget: on the card is a picture of the most adorable little puppy you can imagine, leaning right up into the camera, with big, bright eyes, and with the sweetest, most plaintive look on his face; with the following words underneath, "Oops, sorry I pooped on your stuff."
Gena and I practically fell over laughing at the time, right there in the store, and we have had quite a few laughs since then, thinking back on the image.
"Oops, sorry I pooped on your stuff."
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A dear and wise
old-friend-of-mine, who is a life-long lover of dogs, has long compared the
love God has for us to the love that we have for our pets. Granted the analogy is made with tongue in
cheek; and yet, there is some endearing truth there.
If you have ever had a pet you loved dearly, think of how, (except perhaps on occasion, when a failure of perspective has occurred), when that dog (or that cat) did something they were not supposed to do, you were able to forgive them. Of course you forgive them. What else are you gonna do? They are dogs -- they are cats -- after all! And you love them.
You might call this canine theology, or feline theology, or "Oops, sorry I pooped on your stuff" theology. Whatever you call it, what it speaks of is: The largeness of God's love. And, the thoroughness with which God knows us.
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God's complete love of us, and God's complete knowledge of us.
The Psalmist speaks of these same great truths by way of a more biblical metaphor, "As a father cares for his children, so does the LORD care for those who fear him. For he himself knows whereof we are made; he remembers that we are but dust..."
Whether we would compare the love of God to the love we have for our favorite dog or cat; or whether we would compare the love of God to the love a mother or father has for a child; we of course are searching after an analogy, we are grappling with words as we try to describe a love and a knowledge of us that is so complete, so total, that no analogy, no words, could possibly do.
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God's complete love, God's complete knowledge of us.
He knows whereof we are made.
God knows what we are made of. And of course he would; for he made us. And he cares for us as a father cares for his children; as a perfect mother cares for her children with a perfect love. Of course, just as God cares for us infinitely more than we care for our favorite, beloved pet; so of course he cares for us infinitely more than we could care for our children; and more than our parents could possibly care for, could possibly love us. God loves us beyond measure, beyond any comparison.
And that's what we believe; and that's what we proclaim.
That is the heart of the matter; that is, the heart of the Gospel.
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That said, sometimes we have a hard time holding that complete, perfect love in juxtaposition with God's complete and perfect knowledge of us: Could God really love us, if he really knows us? Can God have both total knowledge of us, and total love for us?
The answer to that question is a resounding "yes!" With no ifs, ands, or buts. Period.
Yes, God can love us completely and know us completely. That is the Gospel.
That, precisely, is the Gospel of Jesus Christ. And that is Ash Wednesday. God knows us completely, and God loves us completely. And because God loves us so completely; because God loves us with a love beyond all comparison, beyond all measure; because God loves us so totally, God wants us to flourish. And, so, out of that desire to see us flourish, God calls us into this holy season of Lent, reminding us who we are: his beloved children.
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Lent brings us face to face with ourselves, and face to face with the selves that God would have us be, the selves that we have been, and are becoming.
And God says, Come along. Come along. Follow me. I know you; and I love you. Completely. Trust me, and let me show you, let me remind you, who you are, my beloved child. And let me show you who you are still becoming: your true self, the self, the person, the child of God, you were born to be.
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I love you. I know you. Let me show you.
