My daughter Mindy has been through a challenging year, the low point coming in September when her cat Jack died.  Jack was with her for 15 years, through moves, theater triumphs, job switches, election surprises, the Cubs winning the World Series, family deaths and births and marriages, futureless boyfriends, health challenges, covid-isolation…  Such a loss can knock you out for a while. Jack was her one, every day, tangible constant through it all.  It wasn’t so much that Jack the Cat had lived nine lives—more like Mindy had lived nine lives while caring for him.  

It didn't take long before Mindy decided that the path to resurrection would be a new kitten.  I went with her to the Humane Society and helped her bring her new roommate back to the apartment. 

Mindy named her Luna, an aspirational name.  This six-week-old little creature would bring something cheerful into the dark void Jack had left behind.  

As soon as we released the tiny whirlwind into Mindy’s living room, I thought of a different definition of “luna,” as in “looney.”  She would dash from one object and person to another, lightning speed, and then after 30 minutes flop down for a deep nap.  I was feeling my age just watching her.  One of her favorite feats was to bounce from the floor to my lap onto the top of my head before I could react. 

This brings me to the theme of today’s post:  authority.  In order to get Luna, Mindy had to sign several documents at the Humane Society pledging to take authority over Luna: to keep her safe and healthy.  As we sat that first day in her apartment, watching Luna bouncing through space, we looked at each other with a dawning realization:  Mindy was in authority, technically, but was a long way from taking authority.  

I’ve stopped by the apartment several times since the adoption, and Luna has added to her repertoire, particularly with sharp teeth and sharp claws.  And she can bounce higher.  The water spray bottle, which is supposed to cure kittens of their most noxious behaviors, makes Luna all the friskier.  But Mindy continues to speak to her in a calm, rational, authoritative voice.  

The Book of Common Prayer, second only to the Bible for the Episcopalians, has this phrase: “We pray for all who are in authority.”  I worshipped in an Episcopalian Church recently, and when we got to that phrase, I thought of Mindy. 

One can be in authority without having authority.  If you can’t govern your subjects, what use is your title? Everyone who has ever been in authority knows what I mean. Whether you are a president or a pet owner, being in authority sometimes evokes more rebellion than obedience.  Sometimes I used to think I could get more cooperation if I weren’t the pastor or the parent.  Being in authority sometimes just paints a target on your back for anyone with an anarchist streak.

As a word, however, I find authority to be quite lovely.  It comes from the Latin words, auctor and augeo, whose English progeny include author, august, augment, auction, and authority. The Latin heritage conjures a person of creativity, clout, influence, increase.  (An auction is designed to increase the price of an object.)  To take authority, therefore, is to exercise creativity and influence.  It’s not enough to be in authority, one has to take it.

At this writing, we do not know whether last week’s election will leave the Republicans or Democrats in authority in the U.S. House of Representatives. If it's the Republicans (and it’s leaning that way), Kevin McCarthy hopes to become the next Speaker of the House.  But he’s got a rowdy caucus, and it remains to be seen whether or not he can take authority… or hold on to it over time.  (e.g., John Boehner, Paul Ryan)

 But one not need have a kitten or a Republican caucus to struggle in taking authority.  Ask our bishops.  Ask a schoolteacher.  Ask a police officer.  Ask a corporate manager.  Ask the parent of a two-year-old.  Attaining the title is not synonymous with having the power. 

I must confess at this point that my family has always been hard on the authorities.  My dad once refused to pay his state taxes for several years-- the presumed authority of the government offended him.  My great-grandfather snuck in to vote for Theodore Roosevelt (1904) before he was of age—crowing for almost eighty years that he had outwitted the authorities.  My preacher grandfather spent more time grousing about his district superintendent than he did praying. Our family’s always had an “attitude” toward anyone in authority: we assume that if you’re in authority, you’ve already gotten too big for your britches.  Even though we relish the authority we’ve attained in our own little worlds, we’re skeptical of everyone else’s.  On the surface, we might be polite, or even timid, but if you want to know what we really think…

So, how shall we pray for those in authority?  The Book of Common Prayer suggests that we petition God that they may act justly and love mercy.  These concepts, of course, come from Micah 6:8, where we are all urged to do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.  But I guess it’s unrealistic to hope that those in authority might be humble.  So, the liturgy just settles for justice and mercy. 

 But what if someone is in authority but hasn’t managed to take it?  Isn’t that a problem too?  It’s called ineffectiveness, incompetence, impotence.  We see it all around us.  And we seem to be always wringing our hands about it.  Why don’t those parents control their kids?  Why don’t schoolboards kick the troublemakers out of school?  Why don’t judges just lock up the lawbreakers and throw away the key?  Why doesn’t the bishop just crack down on the crackpots?  Why doesn’t that politician just do what he said he was going to do?  Why doesn’t that woman teach her cat who’s boss? 

On the other hand, the most notorious leaders in our country’s history not only took authority, they bludgeoned others with it.  I can name church leaders who did likewise, along with captains of industry, police officers, abusive parents, and cruel teachers.  We have cause to be skeptical of those in authority.  But more often, we’ve been plagued by those in authority who were incompetent.  For every president who grossly abused his powers, I can name three that were too weak and caved before their challenges.

The times have always demanded true authority: creativity, initiative, innovation, strength, resilience, growth, skill, political competence, attachment to a higher power, hope.  At every level.

While I certainly don’t like everyone in authority in my world, I’ll do well to pray for them anyway.  Lord, bless all who are in authority, that they may do justice, love mercy, walk humbly, and grow in power to do what the community needs.

I’m not sure how the Lord will answer that prayer for Mindy and Luna.  This weekend, while Mindy was in St. Louis, she left Luna with our friends Ginny and Jack, supposing that a nice retired couple would have plenty of time to spend with the kitten.

I saw Ginny and Jack in church this morning and asked Jack if he was full of scratches.  Luna is in that phase.  He commented about a couple injuries, but then, like a grandparent, quickly blamed himself.  (Grandparents can be hugely subversive of authority.)  Ginny told me that they were enjoying the kitten immensely.  “We make her sleep in the sunroom.”  Then she paused.  “Somehow at 6 a.m. this morning she got out of the sunroom, found our bedroom, got in, and pounced on our faces while we were sleeping.”  The she laughed.  

Whatever authority Mindy managed to take before this weekend, I reckon she’ll have to start over when she gets home tomorrow and brings Luna back to their apartment.