Genevieve the Meek

Sissi has been on a Mary Karr binge since she read The Liar's Club, which has translated into me also getting in on the action. Karr's poetry is wonderful--her collection SINNERS WELCOME includes one about what being meek means:

WHO THE MEEK ARE NOT

Not the bristle-bearded Igors bent
under burlap sacks, not peasants knee-deep
in the rice paddy muck,
nor the serfs whose quarter-moon sickles
make the wheat fall in waves
they don't get to eat. My friend the Franciscan
nun says we misread
that word "meek" in the Bible verse that blesses them.
To understand the meek
(she says) picture a great stallion at full gallop
in a meadow, who--
at his master's voice--sizes up to a stunned
but instant halt.
So with the strain of holding that great power
in check, the muscles
along the arched neck keep eddying,
and only the velvet ears
prick forward, awaiting the next order.


A typical morning when I'm home is to take the kids to school, hit Jean Paul's (the French coffee Nazi) for his version of a "cafe" (don't ask for a special order) and then take Genevieve, our 9-year-old lab to the beach for our morning constitutional.

Labrador Retrievers are amazing animals. They've been bred or designed for the purpose of retrieving, particularly in the water--two layers of skin, webbed feet, and an innate ability to go find the object of desire and bring it back to their owner.

Our female lab has a ferocious bark, but she's a huge lover--she'd lick a burglar before she'd bite, I'm pretty sure. We affectionately call her our "killer attack dog" because she isn't when it comes to kids or other people. Once an Hispanic friend came to visit and didn't know our dog, she ran to the door with her deep, loud barking. He poked his head in the door and I said, "G! Kill the Mexican!!!" Miguel took off running. . .I think I broke a rib laughing. He did too, eventually.

Back to Mary Karr's poem about the meek, I really felt something dramatic when Sarah read it to me. It changed my idea about what Christ meant at his Sermon on the Mount, at least when it came to "Blessed are the Meek" and the whole Monty Python, Life of Brian sketch:

MAN #2: You hear that? Blessed are the Greek.

GREGORY: The Greek?

MAN #2: Mmm. Well, apparently, he's going to inherit the earth.

GREGORY: Did anyone catch his name?

MRS. BIG NOSE: You're not going to thump anybody.

MR. BIG NOSE: I'll thump him if he calls me 'Big Nose' again.

MR. CHEEKY: Oh, shut up, Big Nose.

MR. BIG NOSE: Ah! All right. I warned you. I really will slug you so hard--

MRS. BIG NOSE: Oh, it's the meek! Blessed are the meek! Oh, that's nice, isn't it? I'm glad they're getting something, 'cause they have a hell of a time.

Seriously though, the idea that the meek aren't the weak among us but the strong and capable that submit themselves to their master's authority, the idea moved from "oh that's nice, isn't it? I'm glad they're getting something, 'cause they have a hell of a time" to a much more powerful concept of the powerful putting themselves in the will of the Father, in his service. It's like George Washington learning to control his temper, to discipline himself to focus his powers for a cause rather than random outbursts.

Last night we read the poem after dinner and out loud to our boys. Willem was listening and we discussed the idea. We talked about how it was like the difference between a super hero who just gets their powers and hasn't managed to control them yet, and the veteran superhero that has all the powers under his/her control in the service of the good.

So back to Genevieve, seeing her retrieve today with her veteran abilities and trained nature, also reminded me of Mary Karr's stallion, hearing it's master's voice and responding with restraint, with power and with grace.


into green water
dog meets stick tumbled by waves
one motive, for him