More on My Summer of Sinners
I remember when I was unmarried and pregnant with my sixteen-year old son, I was sitting in the restaurant where my son's father (my now-husband of seventeen years) and I worked. I had a sinus infection at the time (a regular occurrence for someone with allergies). I saw a family member who asked me if I had been to a doctor. I told him I had not. I did not want to go. He replied, "I can only think of a couple reasons why you would not want to to go to the doctor, and neither of them are that good." The statement made by this family member epitomized my reasons why I had not revealed my pregnancy to those who were supposed to be closest to me.
I have noticed those who are not sinners (or, I should say, those who do not consider their sin as big as the sin of others) often do not sympathize with those who are sinners. Those who are sinners and know it understand others who sin. They relate to others instead of judging them or making sarcastic comments about them. They show grace to other sinners. I think back to the teaching of Jesus in Luke 7:36-50. When Jesus was judged by a Pharisee for allowing a sinful woman to touch and anoint Him, the One who was God in the flesh, who had every right to promote holiness, pointed out to the holier-than-though Pharisee that he, Simon, had not offered his guest a kiss of welcome or shown any extravagant greeting. This sinful woman, however, could not hold back her extravagance. She loved much because she was forgiven much. Simon the Pharisee saw no reason to display exorbitant grace. He felt he had little to be forgiven of.
For my summer reading (as I revealed in my last blog post, my summer reading is a summer study of sinners), I just finished Oscar Wilde's A Woman of No Importance. This quote from this Scarlet Letter-like play stood out to me:
"I owe nothing to other women. There is not one of them to help me. There is not one woman in the world to whom I could go for pity, if I would take it, or for sympathy, if I could win it. Women are hard on each other. That girl, last night, good though she is, fled from the room as though I were a tainted thing. She was right. I am a tainted thing. But my wrongs are my own, and I will bear them alone. I must bear them alone. What have women who have not sinned to do with me, or I with them? We do not understand each other."
As usual, Wilde understood human nature. He understood the only ones who can truly sympathize with sinners are those who have experienced the effects of and judgment for their own sin. Others do not understand. Others, all too often, do not care to understand.
For years I felt guilty for my own sins. Even more, I felt guilty for feeling I would not change that sin. I prayed about this, but I could not come to the conclusion that I should have changed anything about my life.
Again, Wilde's words epitomize what must be a more common emotion for sinners like me. His sinful woman continues in A Woman of No Importance:
"My past was ever with me... And you thought I didn't care for the pleasant things of life. I tell you I longed for them, but did not dare to touch them, feeling I had no right. You thought I was happier working amongst the poor. That was my mission, you imagined. It was not, but where else was I to go? The sick do not ask if the hand that smooths their pillow is pure, nor the dying care if the lips that touch their brow have known the kiss of sin. It was you I thought of all the time; I gave them the love you did not need; lavished on them a love that was not theirs... And you thought I spent too much of my time in going to Church, and in Church duties. But where else could I turn? God's house is the only house where sinners are made welcome, and you were always in my heart, Gerald, too much in my heart. For, though day after day, at morn or evensong, I have knelt in God's house, I have never repented of my sin. How could I repent of my sin when you, my love, were its fruit. Even now that you are bitter to me I cannot repent. I do not. You are more to me than innocence. I would rather be your mother - oh! much rather! - than have been always pure."
I believe sinners like me are always looking for ways to help others. We desire to be the sinful woman who had access to Jesus to kiss His feet, to cling to His understanding too often not shown by His children. Since we do not have access to a physical Christ, we do the next best thing. We turn to those who need us, to those who will accept us because they have no one else. Perhaps this is why I work to reveal oppression. There is no perhaps. This is why I work to reveal oppression, to stand up for the poor, to side with other sinners. I understand what oppression feels like. I will help lighten the load of others if I can.
I have noticed those who are not sinners (or, I should say, those who do not consider their sin as big as the sin of others) often do not sympathize with those who are sinners. Those who are sinners and know it understand others who sin. They relate to others instead of judging them or making sarcastic comments about them. They show grace to other sinners. I think back to the teaching of Jesus in Luke 7:36-50. When Jesus was judged by a Pharisee for allowing a sinful woman to touch and anoint Him, the One who was God in the flesh, who had every right to promote holiness, pointed out to the holier-than-though Pharisee that he, Simon, had not offered his guest a kiss of welcome or shown any extravagant greeting. This sinful woman, however, could not hold back her extravagance. She loved much because she was forgiven much. Simon the Pharisee saw no reason to display exorbitant grace. He felt he had little to be forgiven of.
For my summer reading (as I revealed in my last blog post, my summer reading is a summer study of sinners), I just finished Oscar Wilde's A Woman of No Importance. This quote from this Scarlet Letter-like play stood out to me:
"I owe nothing to other women. There is not one of them to help me. There is not one woman in the world to whom I could go for pity, if I would take it, or for sympathy, if I could win it. Women are hard on each other. That girl, last night, good though she is, fled from the room as though I were a tainted thing. She was right. I am a tainted thing. But my wrongs are my own, and I will bear them alone. I must bear them alone. What have women who have not sinned to do with me, or I with them? We do not understand each other."
As usual, Wilde understood human nature. He understood the only ones who can truly sympathize with sinners are those who have experienced the effects of and judgment for their own sin. Others do not understand. Others, all too often, do not care to understand.
For years I felt guilty for my own sins. Even more, I felt guilty for feeling I would not change that sin. I prayed about this, but I could not come to the conclusion that I should have changed anything about my life.
Again, Wilde's words epitomize what must be a more common emotion for sinners like me. His sinful woman continues in A Woman of No Importance:
"My past was ever with me... And you thought I didn't care for the pleasant things of life. I tell you I longed for them, but did not dare to touch them, feeling I had no right. You thought I was happier working amongst the poor. That was my mission, you imagined. It was not, but where else was I to go? The sick do not ask if the hand that smooths their pillow is pure, nor the dying care if the lips that touch their brow have known the kiss of sin. It was you I thought of all the time; I gave them the love you did not need; lavished on them a love that was not theirs... And you thought I spent too much of my time in going to Church, and in Church duties. But where else could I turn? God's house is the only house where sinners are made welcome, and you were always in my heart, Gerald, too much in my heart. For, though day after day, at morn or evensong, I have knelt in God's house, I have never repented of my sin. How could I repent of my sin when you, my love, were its fruit. Even now that you are bitter to me I cannot repent. I do not. You are more to me than innocence. I would rather be your mother - oh! much rather! - than have been always pure."
I believe sinners like me are always looking for ways to help others. We desire to be the sinful woman who had access to Jesus to kiss His feet, to cling to His understanding too often not shown by His children. Since we do not have access to a physical Christ, we do the next best thing. We turn to those who need us, to those who will accept us because they have no one else. Perhaps this is why I work to reveal oppression. There is no perhaps. This is why I work to reveal oppression, to stand up for the poor, to side with other sinners. I understand what oppression feels like. I will help lighten the load of others if I can.
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