My Cat Snores

I'm sitting here reading a good sermon on text week on the valley of the dry bones, and what do I hear? Snoring. Not from the little boy's room, not from my lovely bride who of course never snores, but from right behind me where Lao-Tzu, our calico, is curled up on the guest bed, on some mail that has been spread out there. (Why do cats love to lay on things that are laying on things: a shirt on the couch, a newspaper on the floor, mail on the bed.) In any case, it struck me as funny and worth sharing that this cat is reminding me of what I should be doing--as I will most likely get up at around 6am this morning to begin my chock full day of preparing for charge conference, putting finishing touches on Board of Ordained Ministry stuff, and other things.
I just read the lectionary for the week I get back from vacation--a goodie, Jesus quelling his disciple's argument on "who's the greatest" by sitting a child on his lap and saying, "You welcome this child and you welcome me, you welcome me and you welcome God." He was checking their egos and their motive for following. Perhaps Jesus snored too. Even worse, perhaps he pretended to snore just to annoy his disciples. Sometimes I lay in bed and giddily pretend to snore just to get under Lara's skin--I like her to think I can just go out like a light while she lays there thinking about this and that. Sometimes I start snoring while she is in the middle of involving me in her recounting of some happening of the day. This kind of activity is usually met by a loud sigh or perhaps a pinch. I wonder if Jesus' disciples ever regretted their decision to follow Jesus because they weren't getting really good sleep on account of his snoring. Jesus identified with the least and the powerless. Whenever we tend to glamorize Jesus, perhaps we need to put ourselves in camp with the disciples, listening to Jesus snore.