From the Rector…
Every morning, Petunia, Archibald, and Cuthbert serenade the neighborhood with the song of their people. Petunia has a beautiful baying alto voice. Archie offers a deep, barking bass—he hasn’t quite learned how to bay yet. And Cuthbert contributes the high-pitched yip of the coyote. Steve and I love to hear them sing each morning, but it is even more fun to go outside and sing with them.
I have had the privilege of singing with generations of Frazer dogs. Our very first basset hound, Flash, learned to sing whenever the firetruck sirens went by. Since then, a succession of bassets and mixed breeds has passed through our home, each contributing the beauty of their own unique voices. Granted, they may not have perfect pitch, but they certainly know how to make a joyful noise.
It is this joyful noise that always draws me in. I know it is a little silly to bay like a hound dog, but it is also so much fun! Whenever I start singing with them, Petunia immediately comes running and jumps onto my lap to express her enthusiasm. Cutty doesn’t move from his place on the end of the couch, but he sings all the louder and watches me intently as we sing together. Archie continues his deep bark, keeping time with the steady thump of his tail. It is, quite simply, delightful.
Watching the dogs sing is entertaining. But singing with them is a joy that resonates much deeper, within all of our spirits.
C. S. Lewis helps name this difference by distinguishing between contemplation and enjoyment. He tells the story of standing in his tool shed and noticing a beam of light streaming through a crack above the door. As he looked at the beam, he could observe its angle and see dust particles floating within it. But when he shifted his position to look along the beam of light, he could no longer see the beam itself. Instead, he found himself immersed in the sunlight. Lewis described this contrast as the difference between contemplation and enjoyment.
Contemplation is the act of looking at something. Enjoyment, by contrast, is entering into the experience itself. When I listen to the dogs’ morning concert, I am contemplating it. But when I begin to sing with them, I move into enjoyment—I become part of the music rather than a spectator.
For Lewis, this is a helpful way to understand our life with Christ. We can contemplate how God is moving and acting in the world, and in doing so we may grow in appreciation and understanding of God’s work. But when we move into a life of enjoyment—sharing in and participating in God’s work—we are drawn into something far greater than ourselves. In that place, we discover joy, meaning, and a deeper sense of who we are as God’s beloved children.
Contemplation and enjoyment are both important and life-giving practices of faith. Yet Lewis might suggest that to truly know God, we must participate in God’s joy in the world, not merely observe it. And on those mornings when I sing with the dogs, I find myself wholeheartedly agreeing.
Light and Life, and aaaa-rhoooo!
Candice+