The Cone of Shame

​The Cone of Shame
Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
August 25, 2019
Proper 16, Year C
The Rev. John Taliaferro Thomas
 
Calvin was not himself, and needed pastoral care.  Calvin is our nine-month old Golden Retriever and he had undergone some scheduled minor surgery.  The whole procedure went perfectly, and the vet reported that he was one of the most agreeable surgical candidates she had ever seen.  Maybe she says that to every pet owner, but really, he is a pretty great dog – along with his eight-year old big brother, Gus. 
 
At first it was comedic.  He was still a little woozy from the anesthesia.  And to keep him from chewing at his stitches, he had been fitted with an Elizabethan style collar.  If you have seen the movie Up you know it as the “Cone of Shame,” and it is a dog’s worst nightmare.  He banged his way up the steps and into the house.  He was thirsty, but could not get his head in the water bowl.  When he tried to move around, he ran into walls and furniture.  It was hard not to laugh.
 
What started out comedic became pitiful.  When he walked around he could not see from side to side and he kept his head down, as if in shame, and finally, he just stood completely still.  He did not move.  He did not sit.  He did not lie down.  No matter how much we coaxed him, Calvin just stood there, for almost an hour.  Finally, we could not stand it.  We vowed to watch him carefully and removed the “Cone of Shame.”  And being a puppy, he acted as if he had been granted complete clemency from all fears, woes, and concerns.  He padded around the house joyfully, picked up toys, drank water, and snuggled with us, and his brother, Gus.  And if he even made a move to lick his wound, all we had to do was pick up the “Cone of Shame,” and show it to him, and he stopped immediately.  He was supposed to wear the cone for two weeks.  He wore it for less than two hours, and that was enough.
 
People can learn a lot from dogs.  They are so able to love unconditionally, forgive so readily, and find joy in the smallest of delights.  Yes, they are messy and slobbery and sometimes demanding, but so are most people I know, in one way or another.  But the up side of their love and loyalty is so amazing and instructive as to how we might live in present joy.  It is no wonder that people who live with pets report that they are happier, and studies show that those same people live longer and healthier lives.[1]  Not only do pets keep us more active and meaningfully connected, even the microscopic dirt they bring into the house helps boost our immune system.
 
While this not a symposium on human longevity, faithful people are all about being fully and completely alive in the Spirit of our Creator.  And this is a central theme Jesus presses on all of his followers again and again in his Gospel life.  While the world and all of its challenges are real, Jesus shows us how to label and eschew that with stands in the way of joy and lively growth.
 
As he taught in the synagogue on the sabbath, he encountered a woman who was all hunched over and unable to stand up straight.  And Jesus laid hands on her and proclaimed her well.  Immediately, the text tells us, “she stood up straight and began praising God.”  Jesus’ miracles can be problematic if we get wrapped around the technical details.  I am not sure the point is that Jesus uniformly cures osteoporosis.  More to the point is that, with Jesus, the woman is brought from only looking down and left and right, to being able to see up and out.  For the first time in eighteen years, she can look her friends in the eyes, she can see the sky, and see her world anew.  Unlike many of the stories of healing and help, this woman does not beg or even ask Jesus for anything, she simply shows up and in the presence of the life giver, and the miracle happens.
 
There is a lot in here for us.  We might consider how our own vision and perspective is limited, crippled through fear, anger, blame, or guilt.  There are so many matters about which we perseverate, and on which we ruminate.  If others would just do what we want them to do and see things as we see them, we believe the world would be more to our liking.  We play that “if only” game with ourselves: if only I had this much more money, if only this person were not so difficult at work, if only my children or parents were more like me… you can fill in those “if only” blanks and lose a lot of sleep and peace.  The movement of this story invites us to drop our self-limited look at things, stand up a little straighter, and see up and out. 
 
The woman, healed, immediately praises God, and her praise is a form of realizing her blessings.  Gratitude is a good start to seeing things anew. We might be grateful that we have financial resources.  We might be grateful that we have work.  We might be grateful for family and friends even when being in those relationships require us to let go and grow differently.
 
Of course, Jesus has his naysayers.  The leader of the synagogue is unhappy, (clearly, he never owned a dog), and he is bent around the particulars of rigid religiosity.  He rebukes Jesus for healing the woman on the sabbath because he sees what Jesus did as work.  But Jesus will have none of it.  He appeals to the bigger picture of what God wants for all of us.  And, as the story goes, the entire crowd rejoices in the wonder of it all.
 
Wider bigger and faithful vision will meet resistance.  While we spin around in the “if onlys,” others may give us the “yes, but…” beat down. As in:  Yes, but we never did things that way, yes, but what will other people think, or yes, but you cannot risk failure of looking weak.  These temporal ‘what other people think’ matters are wrapped up in insecurity, codependence, and the preservation of personal power.
 
What Jesus shows, and the Gospel invites us to accept, is that none of the perceived power we purport to martial is ever ours to wield in the first place.  The self to which we cling is not all that important in the context of belonging with God.
 
When we are stuck, bent over, looking down, saying “if only,” or hearing “yes, but,” Jesus tells us to stand up straight, to lose the cone of shame, sin, and self-centeredness to be God’s people of possibility.  And to make a right start, we do well to praise God and rejoice in all God is doing in our lives – to love unconditionally, forgive readily, and find joy in the smallest of delights – not unlike our dogs.  Amen.


[1] https://www.nature.com/articles/s41598-017-16118-6