So Easy To Judge
LDS_forever sent this story to me. I prepared a talk planning to use it, but was not given enough time so I thought I would share it here.
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"Coffee" by Wilfried Decoo What do we know about the convert life of our members? Take Irma. She was around sixty when I, a young convert, got to know her. Each Sunday morning she shuffled from the front door to her chair in the living room we called our chapel. Always the same seat, third row on the right. She sat down, her chest heaving. It would take her a few minutes to ease down. The creases on her face exuded an elemental sadness. Her dress, outmoded, hung over her knees, but unable to hide the webs of varicose veins on her swollen lower legs. She had the portly contour of the worn-out female worker, tenacious but tired, fed for years on cheap fatty rations. She was from a submissive generation. - Good morning. Good to see you, Irma. She nodded slowly, a little dazed, pleased to be recognized. We knew she had a problem. Coffee. It was obvious from her sporadic, gloomy questions in Sunday School or Relief Society. - Can coffee keep someone out of heaven? - What if someone obeys all the commandments, except coffee? Irma had been baptized quite a few years ago. She belonged to that group of early Antwerp pioneers, a leftover of immersions in the city's swimming pool, by missionaries long gone. The details of her conversion were scant. Her husband did not join. Still, he had given permission for her baptism, but never attended Church. Irma had made clear that home or visiting teachers were out of the question. Her faith was simple and straightforward. In any lesson, when questions were so clear-cut to be unanswerable for those who thought to be wise, she was the one to respond promptly, with the echoing orderliness of the Catholic catechism she remembered from her childhood years: - Why is it important that we obey God's commandments? - It is important because they come from God. - How do we know they come from God? - We know because it's said in the Bible. But that coffee problem remained. More than once the teacher, spurred on to act upon the needs of the individual, prepared a special lesson on the Word of Wisdom. About the evil chemicals in coffee. The diseases it fostered. About David O. McKay politely but firmly refusing the cup of tea the Dutch Queen offered him. The touchstone of our commitment. Irma listened, hunching up on her chair, soaking in the words. We knew she got the message. When I was called as branch president, I interviewed her. She looked down, avoiding eye contact, as if sitting in a confessional struggling with guilt, and evaded answers. I was too young, twenty-three, too innocent to be able to probe behind the weathered face. One night, not long after the interview, I got a phone call. It was her daughter. As she introduced herself, I sensed the same limitations as Irma's. She spoke in dialect, trying to sanitize vowels into proper Dutch. It sounded clumsy. - You"re the Mormon priest, aren't you? Sad news, she said. Mother has been hit by a car while crossing the street. Killed instantly. I scrambled for the right words. - Don't feel sorry, she said. It's better for her. You know what I mean. - I"¦ I am not sure I knew her that well. - You know my father is a beast. Mom must have told you. It all came out. Irma had bargained her permission to be baptized at the expense of increased abuse. It was the first time in my life I heard the raw details of the evil hidden behind tidy doors. - And then there was that thing with coffee. - I know, I said naively. - Yeah, he forced her. That was the deal: on Sundays, he wouldn't let her go to your church, unless she first drank coffee with him. He knew how to get her. But she loved you people. You"ve been good to her. Irma got a Catholic funeral. Her husband refused any other arrangement. A day after the burial a handful of us went to the cemetery to bid our own adieu. I dedicated the grave - that her body may rest undisturbed till the morning of the first resurrection. Next to the temporary black cross planted in the churned up soil we laid a modest wreath. On the ribbon it said: "From the Mormons, To a Saint." Irma, up there in glory, forgive us for not having understood, for not having searched for more inspiration. And, at least in your case, for the inept lessons on coffee." |
I am a man who tries to control his emotions (Most men are), but when I read this my heart sank at the hardship that this saint had to endure.
I am frustrated at my own proclivities to judge others by the outward appearance. I try not to see someone on the side of the street and make a rash judgement.
Look at the story of the Publican and the Pharisee.
The Publican was a hated individual, seen as a Tax collector, a capitalist, one who was not religous.
The Pharisee (from the Hebrew prushim or Separated) considered himself better, separate from the rest of humanity, clean because of his membership in a certain sect
The publican knew that he was a sinner, but he prostrated himself before the Lord to seek redemption. He was humble in his weakness, and acknowledged the Lord's Hand in all things.
The Pharisee saw himself better because of his knowledge, standing and position in the Jewish Faith. He put the glory on himself because of his supposed righteousness.
Could we compare ourselves to the Publican or the Pharisee? Do we judge ourselves better because we have a supposed high calling or because of our membership in the Church? Do we judge others because of their dress or demeanor?
I definitely hope to do better because of this story and to leave the judging of my fellow man to the Perfect Judge.
Very nice post Dbackers. Your post brought back a memory to me from my time in the US Navy. I volunteered to assist for a week at a homeless shelter North of Chicago. I had not been in the Navy very long, and was just getting somewhat accustomed to life outside of Utah. I look back now at naive I was and sometimes I wish for that innocence lost.
The first night I went to the homeless shelter I had absolutely no idea what to expect. I went in with an inclination to believe that I was in someway superior to these men. I went out with a completely different perspective. By the end of the week I was sad to say goodbye. This was somewhat of a life changing event for me. I would hope that we all don't judge too quickly, but I know there is a propensity to group people by class and make assumptions based on that.
I feel for the poor woman in the story. I know over the years, working graveyard shifts, and during my service in the Navy I have personally had a hard time staying away from the coffee. I once heard that you can tell a good mormon from a bad mormon by the temperature of his caffeine.
As I continue to grow in spirit, and around the middle, I hope to learn to control my tendency to judge. Thank you for the article JB.
What a sad but introspectively interesting story.
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"I once heard that you can tell a good mormon from a bad mormon by the temperature of his caffeine." |
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