Spurned at Church

garbage for blog

When we go to Mass, we don’t necessarily expect the folks there to be warm and welcoming. After all, it’s human nature to occasionally be aloof. We’re weak, sinful people, and we don’t leave our foibles at the church door before coming inside.

But we do expect—have a right to expect—that the people we encounter there will at the very least be polite, especially during that one time in the service when we greet one another: the Sign of Peace.

So imagine my surprise when at one weekday Mass I put out my hand to shake that of the young lady in front of me and got snubbed. 

Well, a lot more than snubbed. One look at my hand offered in friendship and she crossed her forearms in front of her head, turned her face aside, and shuddered with what I can only describe as utter disgust.

As though touching me would make her vomit.

Before you even ask, yes, I bathe, and yes, I use deodorant.

Now I realize some people are germaphobes, but a simple “No, thank you” or “I don’t shake hands” would have sufficed.

Needless to say, I was shocked. More than shocked, I was deeply hurt.

Of course I immediately forgave her and offered up the pain to God for her sake.

In case you’re wondering if she ever shakes anybody else’s hand, I wouldn’t know. Since this was a weekday Mass, the church wasn’t very full and we two were the only ones within arm’s reach of each other.

When something like this happens, it bumps up against what I find to be one of the most difficult verses of the Bible: “And we know that to them that love God, all things work together unto good, to such as, according to his purpose, are called to be saints” (Romans 8:28).

“All things work together unto good.” All things, including this.

So I had to stop and ask myself how this worked unto good.

It reminded me of an incident from the life of St. Teresa of Avila. She’d been poorly treated, and she complained to Jesus about it. He answered her, “But Teresa! That’s how I treat My friends!”

She immediately snapped back “No wonder You have so few!”

Yet . . . how on earth could what happened to me be something positive? How could I see it as God treating me like one of His friends?

Then I remembered another difficult Bible verse: “I now rejoice in my sufferings for you, and fill up those things that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ, in my flesh, for his body, which is the church” (Colossians 1:24).

St. Paul is telling us he actually rejoiced in his sufferings.

Okay. I can tolerate what happened. I can even get to the stage where, intellectually, I can thank God for it. But in all honesty, I don’t think I’m far enough along in my spiritual journey to where I can rejoice at being treated like last week’s garbage.

Definitely something I need to work on because, you know, suffering makes us more like Christ, and that is cause for rejoicing.

As for that young lady, I sincerely hope that if both of us make it to heaven, she’ll be glad to shake my hand then.

She might even allow me to give her a hug.

Advertisements

About ajavilanovels

I am the author of four Christian novels: Rain from Heaven, Amaranth, Nearer the Dawn and Cherish.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Spurned at Church

  1. Dena Kelley says:

    I had a similar experience this past Sunday. During the sign of peace, when I went to shake this one guy’s hand, he chose to kneel instead with his child sleeping on his left shoulder and although he totally had his right hand free he looked away from me as though I wasn’t even there. When I stood their dumbfounded (because this had never happened to me before and I wasn’t quite sure what to do) he finally looked at me and said “Peace” but still didn’t offer his hand. I definitely felt snubbed, and it was a bit like rubbing salt in my own wound because I am a complete germaphobe and so the very act of shaking hands with a number of strangers has always been hard for me. But I’ve never been rude or tried to act like someone else didn’t exist or knelt at the wrong time to avoid it. I tried to pass it off as either he was more germaphobic than me or he was afraid someone would wake his child and of course I forgave him but it was weird. Also no one ever sits next to me – EVER- and that has started to give me a bit of a complex. I almost always have an entire pew to myself no matter where in the Church I choose to sit.

    Like

    • Dena, you are not alone. There have been times I’ve been at a very full Sunday Mass, and somehow I’m all alone in my pew. At an Easter Mass, when we were all packed in like sardines, my family sat with me, but the space next to me remained empty despite people standing in the back of the church. Go figure. Anyway, I’d be happy to sit next to you during Mass.

      Like

  2. Rebecca says:

    Yeah, she probably will hug you in heaven: no germs there. 🙂 As far as all things working to the good for those who love God, I think it helps us work out our salvation in that it doesn’t corrupt our soul and ends up making us better people. Offering it up and forgiving that woman was a pretty saintly thing to do. You’re soul is still in good shape, you’ve helped someone else by offering it up, and you’ve are piling up rewards in heaven. That’s a pretty good return on one small snub.

    I’m not at the point where I get joy from people treating me like trash, either. I’ve read the saints who wish to be thought of lower than low and I have a really hard time getting into that mindset.

    Like

  3. Pingback: On Being Bullied | Reflections on My Catholic Journey

  4. Pingback: On Being Bullied – by A.J. Avila (PLUS a new novel) | Deacon Marty

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s