Not long ago, I read an article
written by a woman who said that when she was young she would read all the
Reader’s Digest Condensed Books. It
wasn’t until years later that she realized that “condensed” didn’t just mean
“shortened”. The proper people at
Reader’s Digest Condensed Books also removed any offensive material, especially
language. She cited as an example
William Shakespeare’s classic “MacBeth” in which Lady MacBeth, overwhelmed with
guilt, would cry out, “Out, d___ spot!” (taking a cue from the proper people of
Reader’s Digest Condensed Books I will let you fill in the blank). The Reader’s Digest version read, “Out,
crimson spot!”
As the author of the article recalled
the Condensed Books I couldn’t help but think of the time (early 70s) when my
mother read the condensed version of Erich Segal’s “Love Story”. It was a rather sad and moving story and her
reading of it made her want to see the movie, so she went with her
sisters. Of course, the original book
was rife with vulgarities and the movie followed suit, much to my mother’s
dismay: she would have preferred the cleaned-up condensed version.
I thought of that article while I was
on my annual retreat last week. I go to
Stella Maris Retreat Center in Skaneateles, NY, and take part in a silent
directed retreat. Silence is kept except
for participation at daily Mass and a daily meeting with one’s director for
about 45 minutes. The rest of the time
is spent praying, sleeping, eating, reading, and going for walks around the
neighborhood. (If it sounds like a
vacation, it’s not. Deep prayer is hard
work.) It happened to be a rainy week,
so walking around the neighborhood involved avoiding raindrops and negotiating wet
sidewalks.
One day I went for a lengthy walk up
and down the small inclines strewn throughout the area. As I started down a small incline, I must
have been deep in thought, for I didn’t notice that part of the sidewalk was
slate or shale or something of that nature—petrology/geology is not my strong
suit. At any rate, whatever it was, it
was extremely slippery when wet! My foot
slipped, I lost my balance and subsequently fell to the ground. (When one is 60ish, falling is not a pretty
picture. I admit I lack the grace of a
ballet dancer—or even someone on “Dancing with the Stars”.) I didn’t fall on my backside, thank goodness,
or even face-first—also thank goodness.
I fell on my left knee, twisting my toes in an odd way to prevent
further descent, leading to some limping for a few days. But all in all, my pants took the worst of
it, especially around the left knee area: dirt and what looked like black
soot. I decided I would just let it dry
and wash it when I got back to Elmira.
After returning home, I sprayed the
pants with “Oxi Clean”, let it soak in for a while, echoed Lady MacBeth’s “Out,
d___ spot!”, and then threw them in the washer.
They came out less than clean.
The stains remain. I don’t know
what was on that wet sidewalk, but it was like indelible marker.
While my pants will no doubt forever
be stained, fortunately the Catholic Christian life reminds us that no matter
what sins may stain our immortal soul, God is the great stain remover—as long
as we acknowledge our sinfulness, ask for forgiveness, and are truly sorry,
there is nothing God won’t forgive.
Years ago I remember reading a
spiritual writer who said he tried every religion the world over before he
decided which one he would embrace. He
became Catholic, because, he said, it’s the most forgiving of all faith
traditions.
It’s not really a faith tradition
that’s forgiving; it’s God that’s forgiving—the Holy Spirit has clearly
revealed that to the Church—because God wants to free us from the burdens that sin
places on our hearts. Even if the head
denies sinfulness, the heart knows and sin leads to a restlessness of spirit
within us. Such restlessness can stain
us for life (we all know people who never seem at peace), unless we turn to
God, the great stain (of sin) remover.
Have a blessed . . . and God-filled .
. . week . . .
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