A Short Story *
The recently consecrated bishop parked his car outside the old downtown church, paused for a moment as though reconsidering his next move, and then briskly climbed the four steps onto the simple but sunny verandah.
On a bench near the front door sat a grey-haired priest, seemingly in silent meditation. The bishop approached him diffidently, carefully studying this heavily-lined features, clasped hands and closed eyes as though establishing his identity.
Then he spoke softly: ‘Father, may I set with you a while?’ The old man looked up at the unfamiliar features and pectoral cross, his tired but keen eyes puzzled but polite. He smiled and motioned to the bishop to sit beside him.
“Forgive my intrusion,” the bishop said. “But I have a story I must tell you.” The old man nodded quietly and waited.
The bishop began: “Quite some time ago now a small group of rather boisterous young louts, fresh from an afternoon’s drinking session, were walking past a little church. One of them drew the attention of his companions to a notice on the door, listing times of confession.
Amid raucous laughter, he suggested: “Why don’t we have a bit of fun. Let’s make a list of the worst sins we can think of and then draw lots as to who should go in and confess them. It’ll be a lark seeing how the poor old priest reacts.’
“I’ve got a belter plan,” jeered a companion. “Seeing it’s your bright idea, why don’t you put your money where your mouth is? I bet you $20 you don’t have the guts to do it.”
The young man tensed a bit but rose to the challenge. “Right,”’ he said, “let’s get working on the sin sheet.”
It wasn’t too long before the young man emerged from the church beaming, brandishing a slip of paper. “Well I’ve won the bet,” he said. “Here’s proof I’ve been to confession.”
“What’s that” asked his companions. “It’s my penance, handed to me by the priest himself.” “What did he say?” the others asked. “He didn’t say anything, just handed me the slip.”
“Well,” said one, “have you done your penance?” “Don’t be silly. I don’t go for that nonsense,” he replied. “Then I don’t pay you your $20” said his challenger. “No penance, no confession.” He was adamant.
Seeing they were unyielding, the young man went back into the church, reading the priest’s note as he went.
“Kneel before the crucifix at the alter and repeat ten times: All this you did for me and I don’t give a damn.”
“That’s no hassle,” he thought, making his way to the chancel. He reached the crucifix and knelt down. His eyes took in the nailed hands and feet and the infinite sadness in the eyes. Then they moved to the text below: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”
He began his penance: “All this you did for me and I don’t give a damn. All this you did for me and I don’t give a damn. All this you did for me and I don’t . . .”
About a half hour later his friends, impatient, went into the church to find out what he was up to. They found him at the altar rail sobbing profusely.
“Well, that the story,” said the bishop. “Except for two things, I was that young man and you were the priest.”
About eight years ago, when reading an alumni magazine I was amazed to learn that one of my favorite professors was still on the faculty (he seemed much older than me). I wrote to share with him what a profound impact he had on me thirty years ago and to thank him. He wrote back and said that he remembered me too and was, at the time, profoundly concerned about my future, but pleased to learn that my life had turned around and that I was now a priest! Although he was Jewish, I believe that he was instrumental in softening my agnostic heart to the possibility of God’s existence. I accepted Jesus as my personal LORD and savior within two months of graduation.
With the recent death of my father-in-law I have given some thought to lost opportunities; chances to express thanks, appreciation, love, concern, apology or forgiveness. After reading the short story above, I was inspired to share it with you and to encourage you to thank those who were instrumental in leading you to Christ. It may be precisely what those people need to hear at this moment in their lives.
We all know that we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses (Hebrews 12:1). Why not thank those we can before meeting them again before the Throne of God?
* Reprinted by permission of The Anglican Digest (www.anglicandigest.org) of a reprint from The Searchlight (Diocese of Port Elizabeth). Interested readers may be added to their mailing list by email or regular mail request.