Grandma and Son

     Many thanks to all those kind people who have, in the last couple of days, prayed for my mother-in-law and my son.  I'd like to thank you all by name, but that might be embarrassing, and in any case my son and I have been praying also for all of you, whether we know who you are or not.

     On Thursday we were advised by the doctors to come to Pennsylvania right away, because Grandma looked as if she were going to slip into a coma.  She had suffered a very serious stroke, and her health had already been compromised by a slow senility and many small strokes over the last twelve years.  He said that she might well be "building" toward a massive and fatal stroke.  By the time we could see her on Friday morning, she was awake and alert, she knew who we were, and she was trying to speak.  On Saturday she was eating (with assistance, of course, though she could move both hands and both feet, and see out of both eyes, and otherwise seemed to have suffered no paralysis at all).  Today they discharged her from the hospital, to send her back to the nursing home.

     It is all a stunning turnabout, for which we are thanking God and our prayerful friends.  It is also a shot across my bow.  I see that I have some time, maybe not a whole lot of time, to explain the reality of death to my bright but autistic son.  Oh, he knows that people die; but he does not know why they die, or why God would allow them to die.  He hasn't seen much of death, either.  A few years ago, when a careless visitor let the family cat sneak out the front door, and in five minutes there was no more family cat (whoever was driving the car never bothered to stop after hitting him), I had to build a pine box, and my wife gave me the cat's blanket and a few toys to bury with him.  Into the box also went a little message, something like this:

     "Whoever you are who read this note,
     my name was Gus.
     I caught five mice in a single week
     and sunned myself on the windowsill.
     I did my best.
     Have pity on my bones, though I was small,
     because you were once small, too."

My son then asked, wide-eyed, if we dug up the box and opened it, would we find Gus inside playing with the toy mouse?  Consider it a question born of awe before the finality of death.  It was enough to break your heart.

     I've studied the old paganisms; taught them; translated the greatest proponent of one of them.  They have no answers for my son -- or for me, or for anybody else.  Not the brave, resigned fatalism of a Marcus Aurelius, nor the ascetic hedonism of Lucretius, nor the Buddha's detachment from the world, nor the flickering shadows of many a realm below; not even the soaring contemplation of Plato, beholding the form of The Good, but only beholding It, never touching It, never being known by It, and therefore never really knowing It, either.  All paganism ends in despair; always has, always will.  But Christ lay in the bonds of death, and broke them -- meaning not that he happened to live again for a while, or that his spirit escaped into some netherworld, but that he rose, in the flesh, to redeem all this world, this fleshly world.  Beating at the heart of this world is the love of the One who made the world, and who died to remake it, the greater miracle of the two.  How to explain to Davey that the heart of everything is not nothing, not indifference, not impersonality, not meaninglessness?  May God grant me the words.  The Cross -- I suspect -- will be the sign, that and no other.

Comments

[DGP]

I owe you a thanks, as well: This past weekend I appropriated the story of your son's protest as an example of a widow's mite worth of prayer. It was a moving story -- not merely in the emotional sense, but also in so far as it moves one to humility and wonder.

[RAR]

Dr. Esolen, I am one of the people who said a silent prayer for your son and mother-in-law, and I am so glad to hear that she is doing well. Your son's protest at death seemed profoundly human to me, and who among us really understands sadness? I'm touched by your story of Gus the Cat. My cat died last summer and I found myself shocked at how much a human being can grieve over a "mere" animal. It was particularly poignant to see the suffering of a creature incapable of either deserving suffering or being perfected by it. I wonder if you have any thoughts on the eternal fate of animals. Some consider this a frivolous question, but it certainly doesn't seem frivolous when you bury a faithful animal friend.

[dl]

I seem to recall reading a few years ago,an interpretation of Jesus' reaction at Lazarus' tomb. I believe the person likened Jesus’ reaction as something more than weeping and something closer to "the snort of a warhorse." The summary of his interpretation- that God hates death. Indeed. It seems to me that there is something more honest and even faithful in your son’s cries, than in the platitudes of “circle of life” and “it happens to all of us.”
Thanks too, for letting us participate in your family's prayer life. A few years ago while in Afghanistan, I recall a medivac accident where a soldier was in a humvee rollover. The information was passed across an IM system and as the details came in, three of us began a kind of spontaneous prayer over the IM, for this young man. To this day, the moment is still a powerful one. Something of the Kingdom draws very close when we pray with and for our bothers and sisters in such times. Thanks for giving us the blessing of praying with your family.

[James A. Altena]

We all give thanks to God for your good news, Prof. Esolen.

[Dcn. Michael D. Harmon]

RAR: I too have been surprised at the depth of grief one can feel over the loss of a beloved animal. Indeed, it may be as sharp as it because we can have confidence that our loved ones who die in Christ will gain eternal life, but we have no such promise about pets, who after all do not have souls created in God's image.
Since Scripture is silent, we can only speculate on their eternal fate, and I do recall (here I stand to be corrected by those who know the material better, as I am away from my library and thus cannot check) that C.S. Lewis once wrote that it would make no sense for individual animals to be resurrected, since there is only one nature that they all share. That is, all cats are identical in God's eyes, as are all foxes and sheep, etc.
But then I recall that in The Great Divorce, he depicted one of the Saved as surrounded by the stray animals she befriended and cared for in life., since Heaven is a place where everything necessary for our eternal happiness is provided, that if our happiness would be increased even by the slightest bit if a pet were present, God would make it so.
Others say, however, that such a circumstance implies that God Himself somehow falls short of making our eternal happiness complete, and thus imputes imperfection to the Perfect. Further, suppose we have a beloved relative who still is condemned at the Judgment. Could we demand of God that person's salvation when His own Will denies it?
Therefore, I cannot answer this question to myr satisfaction, or, I am sure, to yours. But I do know that I did not love all dogs in loving my own dog, or all cats in loving my own cat. And they did not love all people in loving me in return.
So, perhaps, God's mercy extends to the "the least of things resting on a pillow," in the words of a Tolkein poem.
Finally, may God's mercy also continue to rest on Prof. Esolen and all his family. Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison.

[Dcn. Michael D. Harmon]

In editing my previous post, somehow I deleted the words "Some say" from the sentence, "Some say since Heaven is a place where everything necessary for our eternal happiness is provided....

[Ethan Cordray]

Dr. Esolen, I continue to pray for you and your family as well.

[Bill R]

"My son then asked, wide-eyed, if we dug up the box and opened it, would we find Gus inside playing with the toy mouse?"

Not yet, but perhaps we shall yet see Gus playing with his toy mouse. Dcn. Michael D. Harmon quotes C.S. Lewis on two different occasions concerning animal salvation. Lewis wrote an appendix in "The Problem of Pain" on this very issue, and speculated that tamed animals share in our salvation for our sakes, not theirs. In "The Great Divorce," I believe Lewis tried to flesh out where his change of thought took him.

I concur with DL's point about the privilege of prayer. Can hearts be divided where prayers are united? My wife has been bedridden for five weeks now with two herniated discs. Two of our elders came to her bedside last week for anointing with oil and prayer, and her spirit, if not yet her spine, was healed. What I noted, however, is the joy that these elders seem to radiate in prayer. They truly seemed to consider this a privilege, not a task, which of course is absolutely true.

[GL]

Praise God for the recovering of your mother-in-law and thank you and your son for your prayers for us. David and all your family are very blessed to have you as their head.

[RAR]

Dear Deacon Harmon, I found the quote you mentioned from "The Great Divorce," a favorite book by a favorite author: "Every beast and bird taht came near her had its place in her love. In her they became themselves. And now the abundance of life she has in Christ from the Father flows over into them. ... It is like when you throw a stone into a pool, and the concentric waves spread out further and further. Who knows where it will end? Redeemed humanity is still young, it has hardly come to its full strength. But already there is joy enough in the litttle finger of a great saint such as yonder lady to waken all the dead things of the universe into life." I don't think we can ever command God to effect a person's salvation or an animal's resurrection, but I hope it is possible to become the sort of person from whom life flows out to others. I often pray the Divine Mercy chaplet, and when I say the words, "For the sake of His sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world" -- I include as part of the whole world all of nature, bestial and vegetable. I do not understand sadness and death, but I know it forces me to look trustfully upon the Father's mercy. God bless the Esolen family.

[dl]

Bill R. - I know it was not the purpose of your post, but I wanted you to know, that I will also pray for your wife and your family.

[Bill R]

Thank you, DL. I'm always astonished at people who say that "now all we can do is pray." All we can do? Prayer puts all of the material forces of the universe to shame. I marvel at the fact of Jesus' prayers: just imagine the prayers of the Holy Trinity! Praying is also not just a privilege, but a matter of family honor. To invite a prayer is to invite one into another's family--indeed, to say that we are of the same family. So when Tony invited us to pray, he took us into his home and we who accepted his invitation took him (and his family) into ours.

I suppose, Tony, that God will give you words more eloquent than any of us could muster to explain this to Davey. When I found myself in similar situations with my own children, I've said something to this effect: your Dad is a poor image of God the Father, but still I am the image that He has given you. I know you trust me; how much more then should you trust your heavenly Father! I am but a flickering candle--he is the great sun. The love you have from me is but a small measure of what He has to give you.

[James A. Altena]

Amen, Bill. You and yours also remain in our prayers.

[James Kabala]

I missed the original post on this subject. I will definitely keep you in my prayers.

[Margaret]

Gus's poem brought tears to my eyes.

If CSL said animals are too much undifferentiated specimens of their kind to make sense in heaven, he must have been referring to untame ones. It would be impossible for one as perceptive as Lewis to miss the strong and divergent personalities to be found among animals that have been close to a human being.

It amazes me how a creature not naturally attuned to man--a horse, say--moves from a state of emotional immural, constrained by preoccupations with hierarchy and survival, to responsiveness and increasing individuation as it interacts with us--is singled out and "named" by us.

I think this process surprises even them. They take an ever-sharper focus, as with the twist of a camera lens. Their orientation is reborn. It's not just us getting to know them and imputing personality or noticing differences where we just didn't see it before. Something happens.

My dear old dog knows my family and everything about us to a tittle. I know I will miss her horribly. If, God willing, we see beloved animals like her and Gus in heaven, we will know them instantly, and they will know us. We were as gods to them. Through our lives and love, they grew in our image, all the while uncovering more and more of their unique selves. What an honor it would be were God to let us pronounce a richly deserved "well done" and welcome these shaggy saints into His multifarious kingdom.

[RAR]

Margaret, if I'm not remembering wrong, C.S. Lewis said more or less the same thing in "The Problem of Pain." He was of the opinion that animals become more themselves with the humans who love them, and that this is actually their more "natural" state.

[Gene Godbold]

I've been told that our pets and other critters are just waiting for the redemption of their masters' bodies. They endure their current lowly state not willingly but with hope that they will be delivered from death and weakness into the same blessedness that we will enjoy.

[Edith]

A great ship asks deep waters... Edith