#77 PUPPY : SCOOTER'S MOM GOT CAUGHT
My husband Dave was on his way out for a walk with Scooter when he was stopped at our front door by a woman who wished to inform him that his wife (that would be me) had done wrong. Attracted by the voices and Dave’s delay, I went to the door. Dave greeted me by saying, “You had Scooter off-leash this morning?”
“What? No I didn’t.” The woman didn’t have a gavel in her hand, but I recognized coming judgment.
“That wasn’t you?” she asked, accusingly. “I saw you,” she said. Oh, right. I remembered. She was walking at the north end of the pond when Scooter and I were on the west side, when we saw one of Scooter’s favorite persons coming toward us. Scooter knows him by name. I freed the boy, She saw Scooter run to his friend.
“He was off-leash, she said quite righteously. “That WAS you, wasn’t it, with Scooter running off-leash?”
“He was on his leash,” I replied. I was stunned by this whole thing; I was trying to get a feel for this unexpected confrontation. I was technically right.
“The Leash was Not in Your Hand,” said she, quite rightly. Technically, I must hand it to her. She had done her job. She walked away.
I’ve turned to Dave with the question, “What was that all about?”
For me, it was all about the harm that can be done by being right. If we aren’t careful, being right invites punitive behavior. This is not always good.
~ ~
Twenty-five years ago, as a guest speaker, I preached a sermon on the difference between being right and being good. People of the Book are not called to be right about stuff such as ritual details or theological speculation, but are called to practice goodness, even to strangers, even to wrongdoers; called to character and activity that is beneficial in effect. You know, kindness, things pleasing to others, pleasing to God. I could do some “proof-texting” here, listing biblical references proving my point, but I’m not proving anything, I am suggesting a difference that matters among people, that mattered at my door.
The Jewish bible has a great example in the patriarch, Abram who told his wife, Sari, to tell a King that she was Abram’s sister. Abram was right to be afraid he might be eliminated by a powerful man who had eyes on Sari, and he was right, if you stretch truth enough. Sari was his half-sister. He was right, but his decision proved not good, not beneficial, for anyone. Borrow a bible and read the story. It’s a good one.
My favorite example comes from around the time Egyptians invented the chair, a time when China was destroying her forests for agriculture, when the Phoenicians were importing tin from English mines, when Midian camel raids were an annual menace in Israeli territory, sixty or seventy years before the Israelites chose their first king. The Exodus was well past. At this time, a thousand or so years BCE, when the Jews had no Moses, no Joshua, no king or central government.
About then, a major squabble developed between the men of Gilead on the east side of the Jordan River and the men of Ephraim whose land was to the west. They were all related through the sons of Joseph, you know, the man with the coat of many colors; all descendants of Jewish slaves who escaped Egypt, and now they all were on the east side of the Jordan river engaged in a fight.
Stay with me here, I’m getting you back to my front door and the difference between right and good. In a complicated but fascinating story, the west bank Ephraimite tribesmen were slinging nasty one-liners at their east bank cousins, the Gileadites. They never had much accord, these related men, but now tempers were boiling. Eponymous insults flew like flint sparks struck over dry leaves. The Ephraimites might have been on the winning side of insults, but they were on the wrong side of the Jordan, and they were being sorely slaughtered.
So, here’s what they came up with to save themselves. Pretend to be Gileadites. Pretend to cross the river to chase Ephraimites. The Gileadites moved among them and asked, “Any Ephraimites still alive?”
Silence.
“Cross the river you may,” shouted the Gileadites. If . . . you are Gileadites.”
“Oh, we are!”
“Cross you may if you can, as Gileadites do, say ‘Shibboleth.’ It was that simple. Say a word that means ‘an ear of corn.’ We Americans can say it. Unfortunately, Ephraimites could not. Some people can wiggle their ears, some cannot. Not everything is possible for everyone.
“Sibboleth,” Oops. Let me try again, I’m sure many were saying.
“Sib-bo, Sizz, sibb, seboleph.”
I don’t know how many died trying to get it right. The outcome wasn’t good.
The woman who chastised me for not having Scooter’s leash in my hand was right, factually speaking. I broke a rule. I thought it was safe. I looked around, the path was empty but for Scooter, his friend, and me. For a matter of seconds, that little Doodle ran without me to the man who offers a morning rub. It was a beautiful moment. It was so good, but we hadn’t thought about the rules. The observer was right about rules but the encounter she created at our front door was not good. At least not for us. Sometimes it’s hard to say what matters most.
MY ONLY PICTURE OF SCOOTER SUBLIME ON A LEASH!
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