The Void and the Shadow: Love the Sinner
Nov. 16th, 2020 11:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
feotakahariAnother fragment out of chronological order. It takes place a little later than the “main” chapters I’ve posted so far.
"Don't you think you're being harsh?" Father Hayes asked. "We don't punish people blindly. It's about becoming a better person."
He was chopping potatoes into carefully equal pieces, not looking up as he worked. Tuwotahl was trying to look him in the eye, a half-peeled potato forgotten by her side. As for me, I'd just been passing by, but I wanted to hear this.
Tuwotahl gestured wildly with a potato peeler. You divide people. Like potatoes. You think a person has rot. You can cut it out so they won't have rot. That's not true.
"Because people can't be perfect," Father Hayes attempted. "I'd agree with that. There's always more work to be done."
No. It's like . . . A long pause.
I didn't figure this out until much later, but telepaths are rarely at a loss for "words." If they're not sure how to say something, it's because they don't know if they want to say it at all.
It's like my fear. I fear fire. Falling. Drowning. Knives. Pain. Loss.
She didn't project anything visually, but I could hear the sounds. Some of them were very clear, like she'd heard them before.
I lived when others died. I don't know if one child could have saved them. Probably not. But I'll always remember that I didn't help.
But we couldn't all die, she continued. We had to find the Savior. Maybe she'd never have been found if I'd died there. Was that bad? Good? It was who I am.
You say to hate sin. I am my sin. My fear will never leave me. But caution can be good. Caution can save you. Like your regret. Or the Savior's anger. Love them for who they are. Love their sin as well.
"And love Shannon's curiosity, too," Father Hayes said, still not looking up at me.
"I didn't want to interrupt," I told him.
Back then, I thought it sounded beautiful. I didn't truly understand what it meant. Tuwotahl was looking backwards, trying to justify others as well as herself. And Father Hayes . . . I realized far too late that he was looking forwards.
"Don't you think you're being harsh?" Father Hayes asked. "We don't punish people blindly. It's about becoming a better person."
He was chopping potatoes into carefully equal pieces, not looking up as he worked. Tuwotahl was trying to look him in the eye, a half-peeled potato forgotten by her side. As for me, I'd just been passing by, but I wanted to hear this.
Tuwotahl gestured wildly with a potato peeler. You divide people. Like potatoes. You think a person has rot. You can cut it out so they won't have rot. That's not true.
"Because people can't be perfect," Father Hayes attempted. "I'd agree with that. There's always more work to be done."
No. It's like . . . A long pause.
I didn't figure this out until much later, but telepaths are rarely at a loss for "words." If they're not sure how to say something, it's because they don't know if they want to say it at all.
It's like my fear. I fear fire. Falling. Drowning. Knives. Pain. Loss.
She didn't project anything visually, but I could hear the sounds. Some of them were very clear, like she'd heard them before.
I lived when others died. I don't know if one child could have saved them. Probably not. But I'll always remember that I didn't help.
But we couldn't all die, she continued. We had to find the Savior. Maybe she'd never have been found if I'd died there. Was that bad? Good? It was who I am.
You say to hate sin. I am my sin. My fear will never leave me. But caution can be good. Caution can save you. Like your regret. Or the Savior's anger. Love them for who they are. Love their sin as well.
"And love Shannon's curiosity, too," Father Hayes said, still not looking up at me.
"I didn't want to interrupt," I told him.
Back then, I thought it sounded beautiful. I didn't truly understand what it meant. Tuwotahl was looking backwards, trying to justify others as well as herself. And Father Hayes . . . I realized far too late that he was looking forwards.
