Folks,
Some time back, I was officiating at the funeral of a young man who had been killed, while drunk, in a motor accident. During the last few years of his life he had been away from the church and had been living, unmarried, with his girl friend. This young man had come from a good and faith-filled family who, despite the fact that his last years had been filled with turbulence and immaturity, loved him very deeply.

Ron Rolheiser, OMI

FALLING INTO GOD'S ARMS

Looking at faces at that funeral, it was evident that there was more than sorrow in them. Fear was present, real fear that this young man whom we all knew, loved, understood, and knew to have a good heart was somehow going to be excluded from heaven and condemned to hell because he had, for a few brief years of adolescence, been mixed up and somewhat irresponsible. Strange and sad that we should be worried that God did not understand. We, with our limited minds and limited hearts, understood. We, with all the fogginess that clouds our understanding, knew that, beneath it all, despite the circumstance of his life and death, he had a good heart, a warm heart, a loving heart that needed just a bit more time and love to burst into charity, chastity and faith.

God is a God of infinite compassion. Even more than this young man's parents, God understood the goodness of this young man's heart. If we, with our limits, can see beyond wound and struggle to a goodness that lies still deeper within a human heart, how much more does God see our goodness, understand our struggles and forgive our weaknesses? If we could believe this, then we would let God walk with us through all the patches of our lives, however dark and perverse. Not believing it leads us to the worst religious mistake of all: We run away from God whenever we need him the most.  It is precisely at those times when we have fallen, when we are morally impotent, bankrupt, struggling, and stand, unclean, with our sin on our hands, that we most, like a wounded child need the embrace of a mother or father.