A wonderful grace…
“Even the dogs eat the leavings from their master’s table.”
Yesterday at adoration I imagined myself as our Lord’s dog… I was quite content with that. Dogs are dumb, but they are good companions.
I desired to sneak into the praetorium and draw near to him - when he was most alone. Just to keep him company, and to lick his wounds, since he is now the beggar Lazarus, seated outside the rich man’s house.
I desired to follow him along the last steps of his pilgrimage, weaving in and out of the crowd, and no one would molest me because I looked ferocious. Though I couldn’t alleviate his sufferings, I could bark whenever they goaded him and beat him. It seemed to me my growling and barking might interrupt their torture. Each time that he fell, I moved over to him quickly, stealthily, on my haunches, and once again licked the blood, sweat, tears, and spittle from his eyes - until I was kicked away by the soldiers.
I howled when he was raised upon the cross and paced back and forth until he died, and then I whimpered as he was deposited, like a little baby upon his mother’s lap… Then I followed the funeral procession to the place of burial, brushing up against his mother to let her know I was there.
Later, after everyone left, I kept vigil outside the tomb, just like I do now… outside the tabernacle.
Dogs are content just to be near their master.
April 19th, 2008 at 1:11 pm
Terry, that is a nice meditation. I have at times imagined myself at our Lord’s passion not as a dog, but as a small bird - a chickadee in fact. I think the chickadee is the smallest, plainest, most banal of all the birds, therefore a good choice for me. Maybe its because I’m a woman, but I can’t picture myself a dog, although I do love dogs….
Mine goes something like this…I pray the first mystery, the agony in the garden with St. Joan of Arc. I imagine her there bowed down before Jesus as He suffers and in her small delicate hands is a plain little bird - me. She in a manner presents me to Our Lord and we meditate and pray together, offering Him comfort and company.
Is this similar to your meditation you think?
April 19th, 2008 at 2:29 pm
Yes - very similar - in fact I was praying the rosary too. I was going to take the post down because it was too pious and private - but it is good I left it up to hear your story. Thank you, now I don’t feel so odd.
April 19th, 2008 at 5:21 pm
Terry,
A beautiful meditation. I think many great saints have prayed in this way. When I was in the seminary, sometimes I used to imagine I was one of the sheep in the stable at Bethlehem.
April 19th, 2008 at 9:09 pm
Very nicely written. You do these quite beautifully.
April 20th, 2008 at 12:58 pm
“Dogs are dumb, but they are good companions.”
Hmmmm. All dogs make good companions. The breeds I have been involved with are frightfully intelligent, so I take exception to the statement that dogs are dumb. Thanks for sharing the breed you would be — the Irish Wolfhound, a true fearless giant, yet very gentle and sweet. I love the breed, but there is so much heartbreak for owners, as they don’t have a very long average life span.
I am also an avid birder, and really appreciated the comments of S.M. My own meditations are more along those lines. I am attracted to small birds like chickadees and juncos. Don’t they look like little nuns and monks in their habits? I also always appreciate the occasional mention of birds in the psalms, which the church prays every day. We know that many species of birds migrate great distances, and the phenomenon seems miraculous. Sometimes I sit in the back yard with binoculars pressed to my eyes. When you see an obvious migrant, you wonder where it has stopped along it’s journey, and where it is headed. I always like to think that a bird gets to pick and choose where it goes. (The truth is far more complicated — I studied graduate level ornithology.) Anyway, you can guess that I would elect to go from one monastic cloister to another. Can you imagine how neat that would be, to visit the cloistered monks and nuns? Last winter I spent a few days in a famous Abbey, and my room overlooked the great cloister. The entire time that I was there, there was a phoebe visiting as well. It’s a type of flycatcher, and it kept perching on the support beams for the arches, and then darting out after some kind of insects. It was bitter cold, and snow covered the ground. I wondered how long it stayed after I left. One year later, this past month, I have had a pair of phoebes hanging around this place. They are common early spring arrivals where I live; real harbingers of spring. I wonder if one of them might not have been the same bird that I watched in the cloister. Odds are against it, but it’s possible. Life is truly miraculous, right outside our windows. It goes without saying, that people should slow down, look and listen.
Love the painting. Where is it hanging?
April 20th, 2008 at 3:07 pm
Michael - I really meant dumb as far as being unable to speak - although I can bark and stuff. I’m not sure where the painting is - I took it from wikipedia I think.
Aren’t wolfhounds huge though?
April 20th, 2008 at 5:56 pm
Yeah, most hounds can just bark, and frequently their masters don’t understand what they are attempting to communicate. As I write this, I am listening to a dog barking at the back door, and I understand the language just perfectly….haha
Re the birds, I had meant to say that I appreciated the comments of S.B…..Sanctus Belle.
April 20th, 2008 at 5:58 pm
Brilliant meditation. It reminded me of Matthew 15:27.
I just thought about other times that people sat at the Lord’s feet almost like a dog paying rapt attention to the Master: Mary the sister of Lazarus.
You may be on to something here.
April 21st, 2008 at 7:11 pm
Thanks for sharing that.