Massaging the lion’s paw

 I recently learned about Alex Larenty, an animal handler who works in the South African Lion Park near Johannesburg. More specifically, Larenty is a lion trainer and, apparently, a lover of lions. Moving from England to South Africa in 1999, he began setting up a family business that trains and supplies big cats for TV shows and movies. Currently he also leads safaris into the park where he demonstrates his ability to relate to wild animals. (The tourists are safely caged in the back of a jeep.)

About 15 years ago Larenty discovered that when he applied a healing cream to an infection on a lion’s paw, the lion relaxed; it almost seemed to smile at him. According to an article published on Facebook, “Since then, he has massaged all the lions in the park on a daily basis. Thanks to the pampering, he created a bond such that just by seeing him arrive, the lions lie down, begin to stretch their legs and smile.” You can find YouTube videos of all this. Amazing.

This story is not without its dark side. Apparently, some people who learned about Larenty assumed that the lions in the park were now tame. Not so. As a result of this assumption at least one person was mauled to death and several others have been wounded. The park has become controversial with animal rights advocates, some of whom feel the animals are being exploited. I sympathize with the animal rights advocates.

Even so, I’m amazed at Larenty’s ability to befriend the lions and, in effect, minister to them. It speaks of the power of gentleness and touch.

Another example of what happens when humans are gentle with wild animals is a fishing technique called “trout tickling.” I read about it in a biography of English novelist Charles Williams. I love Williams’ strange novels; he was a companion to C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien and the three met together regularly to read their manuscripts to each other. So I was delighted to learn more about his life.

Williams was a complex and troubled man. He did not treat his wife well. Florence was a gentle woman. In the chapter about her early life, we see her uncle teaching her the art of trout tickling. She learned to lie by the side of a pool in the river, waiting until a trout swam in. Then she slowly reached her hand down and under the fish and began to stroke. It relaxed the trout. When enough time had passed, she closed her hand and pulled the fish up onto the grass and watched it thrash about until it died. Later, dinner was served.

This is bittersweet story, but I guess it’s a more humane way of fishing than a hook through the mouth. Catching a fish through gentleness. But it does seem deceptive. Befriending a beast with the intent of the ultimate betrayal.

I now have a dilemma. I had intended to use these two examples of the power of gentleness to write a blog on how important gentleness is as we grow older. But I find that these examples are too dark. In fact, it seems ridiculous to apply them to my life. Or to yours.

So I’ll just switch to a different kind of animal: grandmothers.

I was privileged to have had relationships with both my grandmothers. Grandma Nichols (maternal) was the epitome of gentleness. She was blind but that didn’t seem to dim her love of life, especially her love for her 26 grandchildren. I remember when I was with her, I just knew I was her favorite, and I’m sure everyone of the others felt the same way. She was quietly cheerful and so happy to be with me. I felt peaceful and well-loved in her presence. She gentled me.

No one would call Grandma Forsythe (paternal) gentle, but all 25 grandchildren loved her. Again, I was her favorite. Having raised 11 kids (not counting the two who died in infancy) in a coal-mining town in Pennsylvania, she learned to be tough. She never lost that characteristic as she grew older. She was tough, no-nonsense, and feisty. I felt energized and stimulated in her presence. I loved being with her.

I want to be like both my grandmothers. I am drawn to gentleness, one of the fruits of the Spirit the Apostle Paul writes about in Galatians 5. In another letter, Paul encourages the believers to “have a reputation for gentleness” (Philippians 4:5). I’d like that reputation. Kind, gentle, thankful, joyful. While I have no desire to stroke the paws of lions or tickle the undersides of trout, I’d love to be able to bless people—grandchildren and great-grandchildren—just by having a gentle spirit.

But I also want to be feisty, adventurous, and maybe even a little outrageous. Like Grandma Forsythe. Frankly, that sounds like more fun. And in the older years, fun is really important. Plus, I bet the great-grandchildren would love it.

Gentle or feisty?

Why not both? Not gentle or feisty. Gentle and feisty. Is that possible? I hope so. I think I have both tame and wild parts of my nature.

Can they get along? Live together in peace? And still have fun?

What do you think?