We had Max put down a couple weeks ago. Max was the crazier of the crazy dogs. I was convinced he heard voices in his head. He was a mongrel of the most extreme kind, it looked like there were not dog things in the mix alongside the uncountable dog genetics. Even the vet listed him on his official reports under breed as “white dog.” He was a curious looking creature. A rescue dog who’s previous life was almost too terrible to imagine, the little we knew of it. But his last years were lived out in comfort and love. He was a part of the family, in his unusual, mostly doggy way. And we are diminished without him.
Nick especially seems a little lost without his annoying little brother. Many is the time when Nick had to snap at Max who was being a little rambunctious for no apparent reason, jumping on Nick when he was trying to nap, taunting and teasing, chasing the cat who dared to come into the dog space. But now that he’s gone, Nick needs companionship, sitting on my lap with a sigh, he sleeps in the places Max used to sleep. On the day La Donna and Rhys took Max to the vet for the final time, I came home from a church meeting and Nick was laying in the spot where Max’s cage used to be.
Max’s final weeks were marked by a restlessness we couldn’t define. He had trouble settling, was often up and down, lying asleep and then wanting out, wanting attention, wanting something that we couldn’t identify. He didn’t seem to be in pain, just driven. Just searching for a satisfaction that he couldn’t find here. He loved going outside, on sunny days at least. I thought he was solar powered and needed to recharge his battery by lying in the sun for hours at a time. But now he would go out and wander, pace the fence line, hunt under the hedge around the deck. Looking for something, wanting something he couldn’t articulate. Something driving him even a little more crazy.
Luke 15:11-32 Then Jesus said, "There was a man who had two sons. 12 The younger of them said to his father, 'Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.' So he divided his property between them. 13 A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. 14 When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. 15 So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. 16 He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. 17 But when he came to himself he said, 'How many of my father's hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! 18 I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, "Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; 19 I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands."'
20 So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. 21 Then the son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.' 22 But the father said to his slaves, 'Quickly, bring out a robe-- the best one-- and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. 23 And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; 24 for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!' And they began to celebrate.
25 "Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. 26 He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. 27 He replied, 'Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.' 28 Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. 29 But he answered his father, 'Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. 30 But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!' 31 Then the father said to him, 'Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. 32 But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.'"
It was the madness of wanting that drove him to make his outrageous request. Offensive request. He said to his father, why aren’t you dead yet? You’re value to me is in the stuff that will be mine one day, not in you. If there was ever a son who needed slapped down, it is this one. But he wasn’t slapped down. He received what he asked for. The father did what no father would do. He broke the bank, broke tradition, broke open his wallet and took it out. Took it all out.
The younger son, the prodigal, ran away as fast as his feet would take him. Ran to satisfy the wanting. Tried everything his fevered brain could think of. But nothing slowed down the wanting. Give him credit, he kept trying, kept searching, kept digging that hole deeper and deeper, until he had to look up to see rock bottom. Give him credit, because he ran out of cash. The wad his father handed over evaporated like drops of sweat on a hot sidewalk. He watched them fade as he plodded along, the hunger as strong as ever, the wanting unabated, unsatisfied, still driving him on. Until knee deep in pig slop, he came to himself.
The wanting changed. He came to himself and the wanting was deeper, more real, within reach. Instead of for the something indescribable it was for something he knew well. Something he had experienced. He came to himself and wanted what he had already had. And threw away. He knew he was no longer worthy of it. But he took a risk and decided that even a taste of what he had was better than this. He couldn’t have it all and he was content with that. He would take the punishment, suffer the indignity, because he was done with wanting. So, he made the long journey back, leaving his madness behind.
But a strange thing happened. His father ran to meet him, gathered him up and treated him as though he was worthy. As though he was a son. As though he belonged. And he was swept up into the party, welcomed home, where he had all he ever wanted. End of story.
Not quite. The brother, the one left behind. Who chewed his frustration with his younger brother every day when he marched out to the field to work. And his satisfaction in his work and his home and his family evaporated like drops of sweat on the hard packed dirt he struggled to turn over. He stumbled back in that day, the day of transformation, feeling anything but transformed. When he heard the news his face became even harder, bitter, like he had eaten a sour apple. His father found him like that, spitting seeds and hatred and begged him to come in and celebrate. But he refused and said “I’ve slaved for you all these years and you never gave me anything.” Never. Um, wait a minute. Look again. Verse twelve: “He divided his property between them.” The older brother got his too. Every day, it was his. Everything was his, double his brother’s share because he was older. But he never saw it. Never claimed it. He lived the party, that’s what his father told. But his bitterness, his jealousy kept him from claiming it, from living it. All he had was his wanting. What we’ll never know, because Jesus didn’t tell us, was whether the older brother ever came to himself.
The younger brother needed near starvation to be able to leave his madness behind. Let’s hope the older brother only needed almost losing his brother to move from wanting to generosity. From turning inward to pouring outward. Like the Father. Our Father.
Every life teaches us something. Offers us something. If only a chance to love more, to care more, to give more. Rest in peace Max.
Shalom,
Derek
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