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A message from Pastor Marty

My hero

By Pastor Peter Marty

Children born today live in a world of amenities and advances. They take certain luxuries for granted that previous generations knew nothing about. Yet for all the abundance, and the wealth of opportunity, there is a serious deprivation facing today’s youth. They are growing up without Snoopy. They have no idea who Snoopy is. Ask your average third-grader if he or she has heard of this dog and you’re apt to get a blank stare. Peanuts is gone from the comic page. Snoopy is fast disappearing from the American psyche.

Is this a crisis? Well, it might be. Snoopy is the epitome of exuberance in a world that’s often more impressed with its problems than its possibilities. Though trapped in a family not of his own choosing — what dog really has a choice of where to live? — Snoopy refuses to lead a dull or miserable life. Instead, he finds a way to delight in almost all circumstances, even painful ones. If Snoopy had a last name, Delight could be his middle name. It centers everything he does.

In case it has been awhile since you have thought about this dog or his capacity for delight, just remember what he makes of life. We never see his doghouse from the front — only the side view. But in that modest dwelling there is a pool table, a television set, carpeting, and even a painting by Vincent van Gogh. Snoopy leads a rich life, though possessions are not what make it rich. He paddles his canoe in a birdbath. He skates better than Wayne Gretzky ever could. He breakfasts on eggs Benedict and dines by candlelight atop his doghouse. Snoopy loves chocolate chip cookies. He’ll poof every dandelion he can get his hands on.

And flying? What an ace. Snoopy could have written the Wikipedia page on “Fighter Pilots.” His scarf and goggles set the standard for cockpit crews around the world.

And kisses? His smack on the cheek of Peppermint Patty could melt her hopelessness into a puddle of joy. When the joy was too much to contain, Snoopy would leap into one of those trademarked back flips.

And dance? As far as Snoopy is concerned, dance is the only pure art form. He is his own Baryshnikov. “To live is to dance; to dance is to live.” This is not some utterance of a Greek philosopher. This is Snoopy proposing a way of life. As for his form, “uncontrolled joy” might be the best description. With arms outstretched, ears extended and flying out from his head, and feet spinning, it’s all glee — infectious glee.

I tell you about my hero, Snoopy, because the character of his joy is something from which we can all learn. There is a contagious quality about it, to be sure. But there is something else. It is this deep-down capacity to delight even when, by all right and reason, pain and hardship should be driving that delight right into the ground.

Tragedy is endemic in our world, so much so that one could ask if joy is even appropriate for a sensitive Christian. “How can there be joy inside of me if children are starving around the globe?” Well, the biblical test of joy’s integrity is whether or not it is compatible with the raw nerve endings of pain. Time and again, we discover that only the heart that hurts has a right to joy. Some of the greatest praise that ever stirred the imagination of believers has arisen from their darkest hours.

People of faith learn to rejoice in God’s presence even when there is little evidence to support it. It takes practice. It requires a steady disposition. It even helps to have an example of someone hard-wired to joy. That’s why Snoopy is my hero.

Pastor Peter Marty,

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