The following essay contains language that may be upsetting to children and sensitive adults, especially those concerned about the welfare of unhygienic, destructive rodents.
Krissy, a four-year-old Australian Kelpie mix, joined our household a few weeks ago. The very first week she saw a Norway rat in the corner of the yard. She quickly dispatched it and brought “the gift” to us. A few days later she caught another, and then a couple days after that, she caught a third—both in the same corner as the first. Then, suddenly the rats were gone. (sounds like the cheesy title of a hard-boiled mystery or film noir.) Perhaps she had eliminated the entire family, or the Rattus norvegicus were smart enough to move to yards without predators. Perhaps, we’ve reason to wonder about Krissy’s status as a representative of the “extremely intelligent” herding dogs from Australia’s sheep country.
In the weeks since her successes, Krissy has lain with her nose pointed toward the corner, waiting and waiting. She even awakened us in the middle of the night, not to use the use the bathroom, but to check the corner. At 4:15 am, you only hear the owls and an occasional coyote. I’m pretty sure they were laughing. Still, though Krissy misses the opportunity to chase a ball or just run around with abandon, I suppose it doesn’t hurt anything for her to spend time with her nose pointed at the corner.
We’re a little like Krissy: We embrace things that give us joy and satisfaction, especially during the Christmas season. Some of us enjoy shopping. Even those who aren’t big on shopping the rest of the year may enjoy looking for just the right gift for a granddaughter or grandson, then triumphantly joining other “shoppers rush[ing] home with their treasures.” Some of us enjoy eating out with friends during the holidays; back in Ohio, no matter how busy we were, we usually made time to meet friends at a favorite (not necessarily “fancy”) restaurant to eat, reminisce, and laugh—we reserved the trip to the fancy restaurant to take our son and daughter-in-law out. Of course, the American Christmas season is also a time for travel, a time when, as the song says, “the traffic is terrific” (perhaps the songwriter had in mind the word’s archaic meaning: “causing terror”). We didn’t always get to see our geographically extended family at Christmas (either we couldn’t travel, or they couldn’t); but when we did, we loved being together and seeing Grandson open his gifts. And, of course, Christmas is a time for church. Many who don’t go to church during the rest of the year, will go to sit in a festively decorated sanctuary and hear a cantata recount the story of God’s Gift of Love being born in an insignificant little village in a backwater of the Roman Empire. During our years in Ohio, Christmas Eve services were always special, with the songs and tidbits of verse the children had memorized, and, maybe, a member recalling a Christmas years ago.
But this season—this pandemic season—each of these activities is dangerous. Yet, many will still go shopping, still eat out in crowded restaurants, still go shopping, still travel, still go to church. We’re like Krissy. Krissy sometimes seems so focused on what once gave her joy and satisfaction, she is unable to imagine finding satisfaction and joy from another source. Medical experts are concerned about this holiday season because they just know Americans won’t stay home, won’t deny themselves. I hope they’re wrong. But we’re quite capable of fooling ourselves, of coming up with strange justifications for our behavior. Over 50% of French anti-maskers claimed masks are a Zionist plot. A shameful excuse, we all agree, or we once would have. A sizeable number of anti-maskers in Florida claim masks thwart God’s will, the rationale being God wants us to breathe, masks prevent that; medically, those Floridians are using the wrong masks, theologically, they have a somewhat limited view of the Almighty.
It’s one thing to invoke bad theology to defend a personal decision (if God had wanted us to read, he wouldn’t have given us Netflix), but it is an entirely different matter to endanger others by our behavior. The town council of a small community in Missouri voted against requiring face masks and other safety measures. Not long after, a thirteen-year-old middle-school girl in the town died from COVID-19, making her Missouri’s youngest victim at the time. A council member, whose daughter went to school with the thirteen-year-old, changed his vote; as a consequence, the measure now passed.
Krissy’s corner-watching activity hurts no one; foolishly insisting on doing what we’ve always enjoyed doing at Christmas could put lives at risk. Yours, the customer at the next table, the worshipper in an adjacent pew, your grandchild.
Recently, Krissy has been getting satisfaction guarding the containers of sunflower seeds hanging from the deck, keeping them safe from birds that are intent on stealing their precious contents. From time to time, she still looks longingly at the corner, but she’s learned other activities can give her a sense of purpose, even joy.
Someday, it will again be safe to shop, safe to go to church, safe to eat out, safe to travel. Until then, let’s think about others—and ourselves. Until then, let’s try to be as creative as an adopted Kelpie.
