(Rom 5:12-21; Ps 40; Lk 12: 35-38)
They sat on opposite ends of the couch in my office. He had been unfaithful to her, so she found someone else to sleep with, too. They had come to counseling to see if something could be worked out, but neither could let go of the sense of betrayal by the other. Nothing I had done over several weeks had moved either of them beyond fury, guilt, and entitlement.
Then Jesus came into the room.
Jesus opened the door through a question I asked, “What did you learn about trust and trustworthiness in your family growing up?” It was the right question to break open their stories and their hearts.
As each of their stories emerged, I heard of two childhoods filled with the sins of their parents: abandonment of family, alcoholism, broken promises, and being pulled between parents in one of them; being an unwanted child, parental drug use, poverty, and sexual abuse in the other. Between them they had experienced in devastating ways the array of problems that plague families in our time.
They lived what St. Paul described in Romans today, “Through one man sin entered the world, and through sin, death, and thus death came to all men, inasmuch as all sinned.” That is original sin, innate selfishness, pride, and fear that was expressed in the destructive behaviors (sins) of their families during their childhoods and in their choices now.
I hadn’t noticed Jesus in the question I had asked. I was not quite vigilant on his arrival, as Jesus tells his disciples to be in today’s Gospel. But I became aware of his presence as I put myself into the stories I heard. As I put on each of their shoes and imagined myself in their stories, my soul wept, stirred, cried out. Jesus touched me to help me share their pain. When I did, I felt Jesus presence.
I had never talked about God with this couple. But it seemed right to acknowledge him when he was so very present. I expressed, with tears, my appreciation to each of them for their trust in me, to tell me their stories. God showed me then how to go deeper, to name pain—and hope—buried beneath their words. “I listen and put myself in your place. I imagine you came to your relationship with a great hope that you could make your lives and the lives of your children different. And you’ve done better than your parents—yet you have not yet escaped the patterns of your families. You are still caught in them.“ They both looked up at me with eyes filled with gratitude and hunger. Their heads nodded.
“Tell me, how are you and faith?” I then asked.
“You mean, do I believe in God?” she said. “I do, and I used to pray, but this has gotten to me. I don’t know.”
“I go to church. I pray. But….” he responded.
What should I have said next? In retrospect, I think I should have been bold like Paul, “For if, by the transgression of the one, death came to reign through that one, how much more will those who receive the abundance of grace and the gift of justification come to reign in life through the one Jesus Christ.” I think I should have at least begun to tell the Great Story of God’s Love through Jesus Christ.
I am just beginning to talk about Jesus outside church. I was not brave enough to do that. I took a more subtle route. I asked each one to respond to the other’s story. As they did, I KNEW Jesus had been present to them, too, because they had changed. Their hearts had softened. There was openness to forgiveness—maybe forgiveness had already begun.
I was brave enough to name that. “Even though you knew each other’s stories, and probably your shared hope to make a better life is part of what drew you to each other, I think tonight God has touched you, healed you, as you told your stories here. I think you’ve been blessed.”
They had been living apart, only seeing each other in my office. “I think it is time to tell you to go on a date, to spend some time together.” They smiled and agreed.
But he went on, “I have been praying for her. I don’t know if we can make it or not, but…” (he turned toward her) “but I want you to know that I want whatever is good for you.”
Love was being reborn! Yes, this coming week we will talk about forgiveness.
While there is a whole science of forgiveness that proves the wisdom of what God asks of us, I think I won’t stick to the science. I will be bold like St. Paul, “…so, through the obedience of the one the many will be made righteous. Where sin increased, grace overflowed all the more, so that, as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through justification for eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.”
Prayer:
Lord, your words in the Gospel today burn at me: “Gird your loins and light your lamps and be like servants who await their master’s return from a wedding, ready to open immediately when he comes and knocks. Blessed are those servants whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival. Amen, I say to you, he will gird himself, have them recline at table, and proceed to wait on them.” The words burn because that is what you did, Lord. You came into my office. You came to sit with me while I worked. You came and you made my work into something I could not do: You changed hearts. I did recognize Your presence, but I did not realize you had “gird yourself.” I did not realize you were working, taking over, healing. I’m sorry! Please forgive me. Help me see you faster, more clearly—and let you work. I’ve read today’s Gospel before, but I never saw until now that it can mean that you quietly enter my ordinary life to make it extraordinary. How many times have I missed you because I wasn’t watching? Today, open my eyes, Lord, help me to see! Let grace overflow all the more in my life. Amen.
