When the Homily is about Immunology

Stupid Beagle
warning: may not be suitable with breakfast
My dog eats fecal matter. She loves it. Many a dirty diaper – if not immediately whisked away to the trash – will find its way into the dog’s stomach, and then later a sort of brown “jello mold” surprise will be discovered in the back yard as the ignorant pup’s body realizes that whatever absorbent gel is used in diapers these days does not go down well. I am blessed with the ascetic task of cleaning it up.

Occasionally, I will catch the beast in the act and I notice that she works very hard to be stealthy about it, knowing from harsh experience that the alpha male of the pack (me) doesn’t take kindly to the process that follows her ingestion. (Not to mention that eating fecies tends to make one a social outcast in the pack…I’m tempted to pour half a bottle of cheap bourbon into the dog’s mouth for sanitation!) If she is successful in the venture of obtaining the diaper, she must quickly go into seclusion and hiding – knowing that what she is doing is incompatible with pack life: eating crap is something that must be done in isolation – autonomously.

As I hear the dog puking in the backyard (ahhhh the sweet sound of consequences!), I am reading The Brothers and Fr. Zossima speaks to me:

Love the animals: God has given them the rudiments of thought and joy untroubled. Do not trouble it, don't harass them, don't deprive them of their happiness, don't work against God's intent. Man, do not pride yourself on superiority to the animals; they are without sin, and you, with your greatness, defile the earth by your appearance on it, and leave the traces of your foulness after you…

My beagle may eat crap and then leave lovely little presents in my backyard, but it does not compare to the presents I leave all over the earth. The filth I choose to eat, also has foul consequences, and I see them painted on the faces of the patients here at the Cancer Center, and I read it in the words of Mark Palmer who appears to be losing his wife. Yet time and time again - like a stupid beagle - I continue to stealthily step out of community and into autonomy, into isolation: the realm where crap is gluttonously partaken.

Confession is like a bourbon mouthwash…I need it. But only God can clean up the backyard. Lord have Mercy.