Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Standing besides, a homeless man was a man whose face was white, I mean bleach white. Then I noticed he was also deeply scarred on his hands and face. He smiled at me and said, “ I guess your, wondering why my face is so White and where I got my scars.”
I sure was, “, well, it was this way when I was fifty I got in a terrible car accident. The scars are from the injuries of the accident. When I went to judgment, they asked me, how have you served your savior? That’s when my face turned white out of fear and shame. I Pleaded with them to give me more time. “All right,” they said, “well, give you seven more years.”

So I came back to my life. But my life was no more. My family was fearful of me. At work no one would look at me and only whisper behind my back. People would point, stare and snicker. My disfigurement was such a burden it broke my heart.

So I ran to a cave, I went in and kept going. I went in deeper and deeper. I must have walked for several days, although it was so dark I couldn’t tell day from night. I just wanted to get away from people; my body was so disfigured. I loved the darkness, because it hid my white face. The still, damp darkness allowed me time to think about how I would spend those seven years. But it was scary. I didn’t know what I’d meet down there, and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find my way back. But I kept going, as far as I could go from my old life.

Finally I began to hear a rumbling sound, like mighty waters. You know what it was? It was tears of the whole world! I heard bitter tears of everyone’s fears, hurt, despair, disappointment, rage. Everyone’s. And I heard the sweet tears too-you know-when you realize love for the first time. When your safe after a terrible storm. Being baptized and feeling the forgiveness of Christ. The wrong of loved one, restored and forgiven- those tears of joy. Yes, I even felt the tears of the death of Christ and the tears at Christ’s resurrection. I must have been at the heart of the earth, because while I couldn’t hear any words, I heard all the tears and therefore experienced total communion. I was separated from my disfigurements as I spent time in Christ’s presence.

I don’t know how long I stayed there in that state of total communion-for days or maybe weeks. But I finally decided how I would spend my seven years. As St. Paul wrote I would; “Rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep. I would go back to my old life and share in both the tears of Joy and sorrow..
1. Reconstructed from Tales of a Magic Monastery Theophane the Monk pg.27