The Unforgiveable Sin
I just recently finished my second Master’s
degree. I am fairly certain that my
formal classroom days are now completed.
As I reflect back on all of that education, I still have to say that one
of my favorite years, for many reasons perhaps my very favorite year, was
second grade as St. Jude grade school.
That was the year that I had Sister Francis Mary as my teacher.
Sister Francis Mary had a kind and patient teaching
style that guided us through learning to read and write and math. She also prepared us to receive our First
Holy Communion and through the fear of our First Confession. Maybe most of all I remember one day that I
became ill at school. It was a simpler
and more trusting time, so when she called my mother, Sister Francis Mary
learned that my father was at work with the family car and my mother had no way
to come and get me. Instead, she brought
me to the convent and let me crawl into her own bed. She covered me with a quilt, placed a cool
wash cloth on my forehead and told me to rest.
She checked in on me at lunch time.
When I told her that I was feeling a bit better she brought me toast and
a cup of hot chocolate. She read me the
story of Danny the Dinosaur. I
felt her concern and her love. They were
warm and comfortable and covered me just like the quilt.
Sister Francis Mary was a Bay Settlement
Franciscan. At the time I was in second
grade, the good Sisters still wore a floor-length black habit and a full wimple
and veil that covered everything except their faces. To an eight-year-old their style of dress
added an air of respect and a bit of mystery.
It was that habit that led me to commit the unforgiveable sin.
It was after-lunch recess and we were playing outside
on a very nice day. The girls were
jumping rope and the boys were playing kickball. Sister Francis Mary was standing on the
middle of it all, keeping an eye on all of us.
It was my turn to kick and I remember the big red
rubber ball rolling my way. I stepped
into it and I could tell that I had caught the ball perfectly. I saw the hard, line drive and I began to run
for first base, looking to see if I should try for extra bases. Then I watched in terror as I realized that
the ball was flying right at the head of Sister Francis Mary who was turned,
looking the other way. She never saw it
coming, so she had no time to react. The
ball caught her flush on the left side of her head and she crumpled to the
black top.
The game was forgotten as all the kids ran to Sister
Francis Mary who by now was getting back to her feet. I noticed then that her headpiece had been
knocked back and twisted. I saw, we all
saw, a bit of Sister Francis Mary’s short brown hair exposed. My heart sunk. I wasn’t sure what happened to kids who
knocked off a nun’s veil but I was sure that it meant something extreme – like
getting expelled from school or even condemned to hell. My stomach felt much queasier at that moment
than the stomach flu incident I mentioned previously.
Of course, all of my friends and fellow classmates
were quick to turn me in. “It was Dan!”
I could hear them all yelling. I had
stopped about ten feet from Sister, afraid to get any closer. I am sure that my mouth was hanging open –
wordless.
To my amazement Sister simply tucked her hair back in
place, she straightened out her veil, she looked at me and laughed. “I better be more alert out here!” she
said. She patted me on top of the head
as the school bell rang – calling us back to class.
It was a life-lessons moment. I learned that there is no such thing as the
unforgiveable sin. The only thing left
unforgiven is what we have been too afraid to ask forgiveness for. There is also a distinct difference between
cause and blame. And you can’t always
count on others; even friends might sell you out. But you can always count on love when it is
pure, sincere and Godly.
His Peace,
Deacon Dan
Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash
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