February 5th will mark two years since I adopted Bianca, my cat. She’s a Siamese-tabby mix who was about 10 months old when I got her from the East Bay SPCA in Dublin. Like many young Siamese she was white except for her brown “points,” – which explains the name I gave her – but is now more tawny with faint tabby stripes. I began to think about getting a new pet during the two years Bob was “commuting” to his job with HP in Houston. Our dog, Audrey, a Lhasa Apso who ruled as Queen of the House for about 11 years, was in failing health, and wasn’t able to provide much companionship for my weeknight and occasional weekend loneliness. I knew she would not tolerate another dog but had never had a problem with cats. We’ve always adopted our pets, so I started checking websites. When I finally met Bianca, it was love at first sight. She immediately began brushing up against me and nuzzling my hand. Being just the kind of affectionate cat I was looking for, I talked it over with Bob, and brought her home a few days later. She helped with my loneliness until Bob was transferred to HP’s Fremont location, and was a great comfort when we had to say farewell to Audrey. While she has her rambunctious moments, she remains a sweet and affectionate kitty, with a great need for connection with us, and a cuddle with her never fails to restore my mood.
The need for connection is a universal one in creation, most obvious in humans and animals, but, I believe, not exclusive to them. God’s very self – the Three-In-One mystery we call the Trinity and struggle to understand – is anchored in community and connectedness. Much of the world’s well-being depends on how widely we cast our net of connection. If we cast our net freely, we will be more inclusive, more open to seeing commonality rather than differences, and less able to make anyone or anything “other.” It is when we are unable to do this that we inflict our greatest tragedies on each other and creation. I need give no examples; history is chock-full of them.
We often think of hate as the opposite of love, but many have suggested it is not so. Lately, much attention has been given to the concept of contempt, and the destructive way it operates, probably in reaction to the deteriorating tone of our public discourse. While the “hot” reaction of hate implies a certain level of engagement with another, contempt is a much colder emotion. Like disgust, contempt is a refusal to engage at all, a complete rejection of any common ground and therefore any basis for connection. The object of our contempt is entirely “other,” and therefore not worthy of our time, energy, and certainly unworthy of our respect and compassion. A recent study targeted contempt as the biggest predictor of divorce. Angry exchanges are normal, even healthy if both parties “fight fair,” but the connection-destroying power of contempt is very difficult to repair.
By the time you read this, Lent will be very much on the horizon. As you’ve probably heard in many Lenten homilies, it is a time in which we give attention to the promises made at our baptism and how well we live up to them. The Baptismal Covenant, found in the Prayerbook on pp. 304-305, is all about our connectedness with God and one another, and how to repair and maintain those all-important connections with God’s help. There is no room here for contempt of any kind – all of God’s creation is worthy of our respect, compassion, and care – and our baptism binds us to seek out connection rather than alienation, right relationship rather than rupture. As part of my Lenten practice this year, I will be giving particular attention to the ways in which the sin of contempt may be showing up in my life. You might say I will be trying, with God’s help, to “give it up” or fast from it for Lent instead of something like chocolate or ice cream. If such a practice sounds meaningful for you, I invite you to give it a try, whether it be about contempt, or impatience, or whatever you sense your “favorite sin” to be. It will require some focused attention and will probably not be easy, but it has great potential to bring each of us back to our best selves. And we will not be doing it alone; notice that each response to the Baptismal Covenant is, “I will with God’s help.”
May God bless us with compassion for ourselves and one another as we enter into this holy season, and gift us with greater wholeness at its joyful Easter conclusion.
~The Rev. Anna Horen