Of Demons and Pigs

This Sunday's Gospel reading was Luke, chapter 8, verses 26-39. As a refresher, this is the one where Jesus  meets the man who is possessed by demons, who beg Jesus for mercy (not to torment them; to not send them into the abyss). Jesus agrees to let the demons go into a herd of pigs, and when they do, the pigs all run off a steep hill into the lake and drown. The townspeople get freaked out and ask Jesus to leave.

The priest's sermon on this talked about the different kinds of demons, and how we all have them; internal and external demons. As he talked about the internal demons, how they can cause you to speak with a voice that is not your own (as they did in the reading, answering Jesus's questions), I couldn't help but remember The Bloggess's admonition: depression lies (probably at least in part because whenever I think of depression, I think of her wonderful mantra). I had never thought of the lies being in the form of things you say that aren't you - that the lies depression tells aren't  just  "you're not good enough" or whatever version of that you hear, but that it steals your own voice to tell others lies, too.

I love it that this particular priest quotes long-dead saints. Today he quoted (among another) Athanasius as saying (I paraphrase) that demons have no power, even over swine. That goes very well with the Islamic image of the devil as the Whisperer, unable to enact real evil, but who plants evil thoughts in our heads. The Islamic concept of the devil is one I really appreciate. It's much more relatable than the large, evil beast of Hell: We all hear evil whispers now and again.

And that goes right into the next point that this priest made that I loved: That Evil has no real home in God's universe. The demon(s) begged Jesus not be to sent back to the abyss, the void. Any home Evil finds is only a false home - one from which it can be expelled.

So, I have more weapons to add to my arsenal.
Depression lies.
Demons don't belong here.
Demons have no power here (so long as I remember not to give them any).

Letter Not Yet Sent

What do you say to someone who has just lost their child? Is the thing you say to that person different if the child were lost in a national tragedy? What do you tell an entire community? "I'm so sorry," or maybe, "my heart goes out to you," because those phrases haven't been used enough?

Do you tell them that you've written a letter about gun control to your congressman? Or that you vow to always use your gun to protect the innocent? Or that you made a donation in their honor to Mental Health America or to the Red Cross? Does any of that help?

Do you light a candle at church? Do you leave a teddy bear in the school-yard in remembrance of a child who will never get to play with it? Do you donate that teddy bear to a shelter for some child with absolutely no connection to the victims or their families?

Do you send a card telling [insert name] that you and the nation grieve with them? Or have your living child draw a pretty picture to take the place of the one their child didn't draw today? What are you supposed to tell the other children?

Is silence any better?

Update: The Snopes article on the Sandy Hook tragedy made a valid point about how receptive and prepared the school staff may (or may not) be to receiving piles of sympathy cards and letters. Rather than putting something in the mail, I believe I will be making a contribution to Mental Health America and/or the American Red Cross.

Kitten & book

A week ago on Saturday the 13th, I woke up late to a sick kitten. She was lethargic. Not eating. Shaking. I got her to the emergency vet. They ran all kinds of tests, but everything came up negative. They suspected Feline Leukemia due to her age (5 weeks) and the fact that Mama cat has not only not been spayed, but hasn't had shots, either. I was willing to go along with this, until David pointed out some things. 1) She was the runt, and they do tend to have problems. 2) She had a weird tendency to lick the raised print on any t-shirt. 3) While she was a fine jumper-down, she was never very steady on her feet. 4) After she passed, the ninja-cat (a.k.a. Ginger kitty) stopped being so horrible to all the kittens (maybe she knew something was up from the get-go). All-in-all, I think something went wrong inside her. She was really pretty and very, very sweet. I thought of her as Ursa Minor (mama is Ursa) and Fi called her little tiger.

The hard part for me was trying to keep her alive. I took her home that evening with some gel vitamin supplement and instructions to feed it to her, even if per force. I tried that and some egg-cream mixture, hoping she'd feel like eating. She bit the crap out of me and started seizing and screaming. Her fever must have spiked. That was when I totally lost it. Mom said I needed to calm down before the kids got home. I did. While I was calming down, she passed.

The hard part for the kids was coming to the realization that she was gone. DJ so obviously went through all the stages of grief. It was very clear and, in an intellectual way, an interesting thing to watch. Each stage was clearly defined: Denial (She can't be dead! You mean she's not coming back??), Anger (It's not fair! She didn't DO anything!), Bargaining (I wish I could see her play a little more), Depression - a little strong, I'd go with "sadness" (I MISS the little black kitty), and then acceptance (I miss the little black kitty, but I'm glad we have the other kitties). Fi processed things a little more internally and a bit more calmly.

We buried her on Sunday. The boys cut flowers from the garden to put on her grave. As soon as the kittens are weaned, we'll take mama-cat in for her shots and spay and them in for the same.

On Friday the 12th, Siamese kitty went missing. I think sometimes he gets confused. I didn't even miss him in all the excitement of Saturday. Sunday, we tied a running shirt to the fence as usual when he goes missing. I hate to admit it, but by Tuesday I was thinking awful things. I don't really like that cat - I love him, but I don't like him. He's an ill-behaved and ill-tempered beast. We DO have, like six- I mean, five, other cats. But he is my Siamese buddy. He's gregarious; he'd easily find a new home. He showed up on Tuesday night with a badly mangled tail. I think it's broken in at least one spot, and I swear I can see bone. Chunks of skin are missing. I think either a dog got him by it, or he got it stuck in something like a fan. I'm not sure he has feeling in the tip. I think it may have to be amputated. It's an absess waiting to happen. Yet another vet bill. Well, he was coming up due for shots, too.



Spoilers ahead!! Don't read on, if you don't like spoilers!

Meanwhile, Life of Pi proved an excellent distraction. Wow, is it gory. I have to say that I'm not sure which of the two stories I like better or believe more. I know the mind can do some weird stuff when isolated for a long time.

I could see turning a part of yourself into a tiger as a way of distancing yourself from the atrocities survival forces you to commit. I can also see a tiger never being found in the Mexican jungle. I can see turning the other people into animals to distance the awful things that happen to them from the memories of loved ones, but I can also see a zebra jumping and landing in a boat and an orangutan floating on a ton of bananas. I can imagine a carnivorous island, but one where the trees spit the unedible bits (teeth, etc) out as fruit? Not sure on that. I guess the point of the story is that you may as well believe the animal version. It's nicer in so many ways.

I really enjoyed the way the author dealt with religion. He seemed fairly objective, if writing from the stance of an open-minded, non-practising hindu. I just loved the confrontation with his parents, the priest, the mullah and the hindu leader on the walk; such good points were made about non-exclusivity of other faiths.

It does make me wonder which parts of the book were "true" and which were "artistic lisence." I may have to do some research. But not tonight.