By SHAUN KENNEY
This week was a rough week for the barn cats at palatial Kenney Manor, as two of our kittens — Black Panther and Quicksilver — expired and went to the beyond.
Black Panther wasn’t exactly a black cat, more of a black and white longhaired kitten born earlier this year. This cat carried a variety of different names: Black Panther, Schwartze Panzer, and T’Challa (from the comic book series, of course). Most of all? He was the runt of the litter.
My youngest son, James, found him and another kitten (Headwig) meowing on the front porch, with the black and white cat not moving at all. Of course, we brought him inside, hoping he would warm up, but unfortunately events took their course and the cat expired on the chest of one of my sons.
For James, this was a heartbreaking experience. He named this kitten, tossed him scraps, talked to him as the kitten followed him around the farm. This was his cat. Earlier in the year when it was apparent that the kitten was indeed the runt and had some issues (one pupil dilated beyond the other), it was James who kept an eye on the little guy.
Black Panther was placed in a cardboard Amazon box and set in the garage for burial the next day. Unfortunately that morning, we found Quicksilver — a plump grey and white cat who was the alpha of the litter — dead alongside the box.
What went wrong? We suspect that both kittens caught the same squirrel and it was a case of bad food. We scoured the garage and the grounds for the obvious culprits (antifreeze and the like) — but it could have been anything, the running theory that poisoned meat for coyotes on the cattle farm nearby was most likely the issue.
Naturally, all of my kids got front row seats to mortality in a way many children do not. Of course, we do live on a farm. We keep goats for land clearance, chickens for eggs and meat, rabbits for petting, and the occasional spring pig that we take and butcher every year. There is a strong potential that we will get a llama in the next few weeks (don’t ask me, ask the kids).
The barn cats came with the house. Or rather, one barn cat named Radar — a black cat named after the character on the television show MASH because we couldn’t figure out if Radar was a boy or a girl. Radar turned out to be a girl. The rest is history.
Living on a farm and in the country brings one face to face with mortality in a season that brings the liturgical season of the Church to life in ways that our modern urban and suburban lifestyles simply cannot mimic. One understands what a harvest must have been in October, what Christmas meant as a celebration, what Lent meant as a time of fasting, the bursting of color in Easter and the riot of flowers in May, the month of Mary. To sow and plant and reap and clear — it’s hard to communicate much of this when reaping is at the supermarket; clearing is crumpling the fast-food wrapper and throwing it away.
Part of this cycle is why my oldest son is exploring a career in medicine as he gets ready to put out his wings and fly the coop. To see animals die knowing there is little to do can be a heart-wrenching experience for a young man. To want to place one’s skills in service to your fellowman in a field such as medicine is honorable indeed.
Yet for James, I doubt any of these consolations bring back his friend. We remind him that, because he heard his cat meowing, Black Panther passed away surrounded by the people who cared for him rather than alone on the front step. Small consolation when the suffering is present, but then again, as Christians we are taught that God doesn’t prevent suffering; but rather He promises to be there with us when we experience it.
In today’s society, we have an alarming tendency to want to compartmentalize suffering and pain. Suffering traumatizes, ergo it is a vice. Yet simultaneously, suffering teaches us to love, gives us opportunities to love, and offers us lessons on love.
The next day after the kids had buried the two kittens, the third one sat where they were buried and did not move for a good hour or so. Headwig eventually made her way back toward the house, and the kids promptly festooned her with turkey, cornbread, and other scraps of the day. Headwig purred, which is a good reminder of Christ’s encouragement in the face of trials and suffering: “Rise, let us be on our way” (John 14:31).
Life continues even in the face of suffering, even suffering unto death. We cope, we learn, we heal and we reconcile. As a father, I could not help or even prevent my children from feeling the pain of loss over a kitten. But I could be there with them when they did.
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Daniel Cardinal DiNardo in Baltimore offered a startling and surprising statement to the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops last week when he announced that the conference would not be voting on an investigative panel that included laity, as the Vatican’s Congregation for Bishops had directed him not to take the vote.
Blase Cardinal Cupich of Chicago interrupted DiNardo in the middle of his announcement to the shocked and stunned alike to praise Pope Francis’ skillful handling of the issue. “It is clear the Holy See is taking the abuse crisis seriously,” said Cupich, who also suggested the conference should continue with the discussions.
What Cupich omitted was that he and Donald Cardinal Wuerl are the American representatives to the Congregation for Bishops.
Thus the USCCB 2018 conference in Baltimore has demonstrated two things. First, that “synodality” is only for the reformers of the reform, and that both Cupich and Wuerl — two men among others at the heart of the McCarrick scandal — are still desperately trying to manage outcomes.
One notable surprise? Bishop Joseph Strickland of Tyler, Texas, took aim at the work of Fr. James Martin, SJ (without directly naming him), regarding his promotion of homosexuality, a charge that Martin took to task on Twitter by pointing to his clarification in America magazine.
Strickland’s passionate discourse on how McCarrick could rise to power if the hierarchy truly believed homosexuality was intrinsically disordered, followed by his implicit denunciation of Martin, was met with numerous applause from the Catholic bishops themselves, reflecting that the bishops are growing slightly restless at the idea of being corralled by the old guard.
Archbishop Salvatore Cordileone pointed toward a study by Fr. Paul Sullins at Catholic University, outlining a correlation between a homosexual subculture and the Ordination of homosexual priests in conjunction with instances of sexual abuse. Cordileone was careful to cage this as a sociological (and not a pejorative) exercise, but cautioned his fellow bishops not to engage in simplistic answers — sage advice, given the fact that the high gloss treatment of 2002 is what brought us to the pass we are in today.
Perhaps Archbishop Alexander Sample of Portland gave the best advice. The mission of the Church is to sanctify the world, he noted, and reform begins with us individually.
In a post-McCarrick era, one doubts that those who have been promoted and protected by McCarrick are eager to hear such news — unless they can keep their positions, that is.
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Please feel free to send any correspondence for First Teachers to Shaun Kenney, c/o First Teachers, 5289 Venable Road, Kents Store, VA 23084 — or if it is easier, simply send me an e-mail with First Teachers in the subject line to: svk2cr@virginia.edu.
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