“And I thought my work had its depressing moments,” said Carla. “Don’t you reach times when it is just too much?”
“I’ve thought about that,” said Al. “Sometimes it’s like Rhet Butler in Gone With the Wind. Despite your initial love, you reach a point where you want to say, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a diminished F#.”
“Que barbardidad,” she said and playfully punched him in the shoulder. “But you keep hanging in there. Why?”
“For the same reason you keep beating your head against the wall of the immigration problem.”
Al saw Carla wrinkle her brow and hesitate.
“I’m not sure I understand,” she said.
“We keep wrestling with our faith and demanding that God make sense out of it all. At some level, we recognize that both our peoples are also crying out, trying to make sense out of life.”
Carla looked down at the table. “I guess I hadn’t seen it from that perspective. It almost makes me feel guilty to stand up and challenge them.”
“Oh, no, don’t feel that way, Carla. What you will be saying is important. Even if it is only for a moment, you may pull back the curtain enough for us to glimpse another part of the chaotic world in which God is at work.”
“I want justice for my people, but I don’t want to get other clergy in trouble.” She paused and spontaneously reached out and laid a hand on Al’s arm. “I don’t want you to lose your job. People need you.”
Al reached over and squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry,” he said. “Most of us are survivors. Besides,” he smiled, “that is the real power of the gospel.”
“What do you mean?” Carla asked.
“The compromises that we make are painful. To use Paul’s phrase, they are indeed thorns in our flesh. But as Paul also learned, ‘God’s power is made perfect in our weakness.’”
“See, there you go again, being that brainy guy that I can’t always understand.”
SMcCutchan