□ Nguyễn Trung Tây, SVD
The Eleventh Sunday, Year C: Divorce Paper!
With a downcast, sad, and depressed face, you stand at the threshold of my office door.
“What’s up?” I greet you while using both hands to cover an unexpected yawn. Winter! The outside temperature is 6 or 7 degrees Celsius. It is very cold, actually freezing… Excuse me! I got up early this morning for morning prayer…
You reply in the Arrernte language, “Arrangkwe,” meaning “Nothing much.” “But!...” You continue…
Oh! I wish the word “but” did not exist in the dictionary, for as long as its distinctive sound reaches my ear, either left or right, I feel my heart throbbing, my face changes from sanguine to pale, the many wrinkles on my face become more visible, and my almost silver gray hair becomes more silver, more gray.
“Why did you stop at ‘but’?” I complain.
“I… I am thinking how to inform you about the news,” you explain.
“What news?” I stop yawning.
“My wife wants to file a divorce paper. Soon! Very soon!”
I am fully awake, “You’re not serious!”
I stare at your face, “You must be kidding, right?”
Your deadly quiescence convinces me that I am wrong, deadly wrong.
“May I ask why your wife intends to file a divorce paper?” I inquire.
You seem to be reflecting on the situation,
“Well! We argued over the identity of the woman… I said she is a girl working in a red light district, that she is Mary Magdalene. My wife said, ‘No, she is not…’”
Being confused, I knit my brows, stopping you at once, “What… what woman are you talking about? Who is working in the red light district? Who is Magdalene?”
You roll your eyes, “Hah? Are you a Catholic priest? Have you prepared your sermon for this Sunday yet? What woman? Who else but the woman who comes to the Pharisee’s house, weeping over and anointing Jesus’ feet.”
I sit back and relax, “I see… Please continue.”
You sigh while telling me the story according to your own version, “And while I kept saying who the woman is, my wife kept insisting the woman is not working in the red light district, that she is not Mary Magdalene. In the morning, we both sang the hymn, “She is and She is not.” At night, we went over the same hymn again. After one week of harmonizing the same hymn together, “She is and She is not,” my wife packed her stuff, and returned to her parents’ house. She left me a note, saying she does not want to see me anymore.
“I see…”
I raise my right hand, inviting you, “Please sit down”.
I carefully verbalize the next response, “Sorry to say this… But, I believe…you owe your wife an apology, for, in this case, she is right and unfortunately you are not…”
I sound like a priest standing in a lectern to deliver a sermon, “That woman is neither working in a red light district nor Mary Magdalene. The evangelist, the author of that text surely does not give any indications for such information. However, despite her sinful past, she determines to enter the house of Simon, the Pharisee, to seek forgiveness from Jesus. The more her tears fall on Jesus’ feet, the less of a burden she carries in her soul. The more she wipes Jesus’ feet with her hair, the more her sins are forgiven, the more she covers Jesus’ feet with kisses, the more her soul is filled with heavenly grace, the more she anoints Jesus’ feet with the ointment, the more she herself becomes incense rising to the divine countenance. And through the encounter with God’s Son, the lady is transformed into a new being. She no longer carries on her shoulders a mountain of her many past sins. God forgives her sins. She forgives herself. And because of her determined mind, that woman has become a new person, completely fresh in Jesus Christ.
I stop, looking at you. After a moment of silence, I smile, saying, “Please! Go and ask for forgiveness.”
□ Nguyễn Trung Tây, SVD
www.nguyentrungtay.com
The Eleventh Sunday, Year C: Divorce Paper!
With a downcast, sad, and depressed face, you stand at the threshold of my office door.
“What’s up?” I greet you while using both hands to cover an unexpected yawn. Winter! The outside temperature is 6 or 7 degrees Celsius. It is very cold, actually freezing… Excuse me! I got up early this morning for morning prayer…
You reply in the Arrernte language, “Arrangkwe,” meaning “Nothing much.” “But!...” You continue…
Oh! I wish the word “but” did not exist in the dictionary, for as long as its distinctive sound reaches my ear, either left or right, I feel my heart throbbing, my face changes from sanguine to pale, the many wrinkles on my face become more visible, and my almost silver gray hair becomes more silver, more gray.
“Why did you stop at ‘but’?” I complain.
“I… I am thinking how to inform you about the news,” you explain.
“What news?” I stop yawning.
“My wife wants to file a divorce paper. Soon! Very soon!”
I am fully awake, “You’re not serious!”
I stare at your face, “You must be kidding, right?”
Your deadly quiescence convinces me that I am wrong, deadly wrong.
“May I ask why your wife intends to file a divorce paper?” I inquire.
You seem to be reflecting on the situation,
“Well! We argued over the identity of the woman… I said she is a girl working in a red light district, that she is Mary Magdalene. My wife said, ‘No, she is not…’”
Being confused, I knit my brows, stopping you at once, “What… what woman are you talking about? Who is working in the red light district? Who is Magdalene?”
You roll your eyes, “Hah? Are you a Catholic priest? Have you prepared your sermon for this Sunday yet? What woman? Who else but the woman who comes to the Pharisee’s house, weeping over and anointing Jesus’ feet.”
I sit back and relax, “I see… Please continue.”
You sigh while telling me the story according to your own version, “And while I kept saying who the woman is, my wife kept insisting the woman is not working in the red light district, that she is not Mary Magdalene. In the morning, we both sang the hymn, “She is and She is not.” At night, we went over the same hymn again. After one week of harmonizing the same hymn together, “She is and She is not,” my wife packed her stuff, and returned to her parents’ house. She left me a note, saying she does not want to see me anymore.
“I see…”
I raise my right hand, inviting you, “Please sit down”.
I carefully verbalize the next response, “Sorry to say this… But, I believe…you owe your wife an apology, for, in this case, she is right and unfortunately you are not…”
I sound like a priest standing in a lectern to deliver a sermon, “That woman is neither working in a red light district nor Mary Magdalene. The evangelist, the author of that text surely does not give any indications for such information. However, despite her sinful past, she determines to enter the house of Simon, the Pharisee, to seek forgiveness from Jesus. The more her tears fall on Jesus’ feet, the less of a burden she carries in her soul. The more she wipes Jesus’ feet with her hair, the more her sins are forgiven, the more she covers Jesus’ feet with kisses, the more her soul is filled with heavenly grace, the more she anoints Jesus’ feet with the ointment, the more she herself becomes incense rising to the divine countenance. And through the encounter with God’s Son, the lady is transformed into a new being. She no longer carries on her shoulders a mountain of her many past sins. God forgives her sins. She forgives herself. And because of her determined mind, that woman has become a new person, completely fresh in Jesus Christ.
I stop, looking at you. After a moment of silence, I smile, saying, “Please! Go and ask for forgiveness.”
□ Nguyễn Trung Tây, SVD
www.nguyentrungtay.com