Recently I have become interested in the history of my family and our ancestral country, Poland, which until the aftermath of World War I had been deprived of nationhood for about a hundred and twenty years, being divided unequally between Prussia, Austria and Russia. My ancestors came from all three divisions, and in reading an old book, a sort of journal written by a Danish academic describing the living conditions of the country during the last decades of the 19th century, precisely the era in which my grandparents left Poland for America, I am beginning to understand what drove them to leave their beloved homeland.Conditions, especially in Russian Poland, were severe beyond modern sensibilities. Imagine, being forbidden under pain of harsh punishment, to speak your native language in public, or of being told, as a child in school by a teacher speaking a foreign language, that you were not a Pole, that there is no such thing, and that you are a Russian. The author of this book, George Brandes, has no reason to misreport what he saw. He was sympathetic to their plight, but had no propaganda motive in writing his book. It was simply a description of life as it was at the time. Those are the best history books, in my opinion, usually free from historical bias, and sometimes precious because they reveal the author’s heart in the matters described.
Two descriptions, one of a Polish man who was an utter scoundrel, and one of a fallen woman, caught my attention as examples of strange mercy. I want to share them with you, as a glimpse of another, vanished world, a different expression of Christianity.
A young man of good family ran into debt to the amount of 80,000 rubles, borrowed of all his relatives, impoverished them at last, and carried it so far that he borrowed of everyone he met, of strange ladies, of ladies of his own country whom he met abroad in a hotel; he did not despise even a loan of five or ten rubles. Finally, when he had not a copeck left, he entered a monastery in Paris as a novice. There was general edification in his family. A short time after, he writes home to a pious old aunt, explains to her that each of the other brothers has given the monastery a sum of money, and begs her urgently to advance him a small sum, only 6000 roubles, so that the other monks should not despise him. As soon as he receives the money, he leaves the monastery, travels at full speed to America, spends the sum to the last penny, returns to France, becomes a monk again, and is to-day one of the most popular father-confessors in Paris.
The following incident from real life shows a variation on the same type, and illustrates at the same time peculiarities of Polish character of an entirely different kind.
A rich lady of the Polish aristocracy, very austere and demure in her whole conduct, peacefully and, as it is called, happily, married, who had a worthy husband, a beautiful home, and who had never been in love before, seemed to fall under a spell when she became acquainted with a certain elegant young nobleman. She abandoned husband and children, house and home, and allowed herself to be carried off to Paris under a forged passport. The young man was kind to her for about a week, then, gradually sold all her articles of value and ornaments, locked her up when he went out to amuse himself with the money, and soon left her so completely in the lurch that, stripped of everything, she was compelled to write to her mother for aid. Her mother brought her home, and her husband declared that he was willing to take her back again on the condition that she first kneeled down at the threshold of the house and asked pardon of all, even the servants, for the bad example she had given. She submitted, and he has never since said a reproachful word to her, or recalled the past by any allusion.
I have nothing to add except that I know the spirit of forbearance and mercy that the husband had. I know that his love must have been very great, because of the last sentence in the story, that he ‘never since said a reproachful word to her, or recalled the past by any allusion.’ That is something very, very hard to do for most people. I have known a few who have been able to do it, and that, even more than any formal statement of forgiveness, is the proof of real pardon. This is the kind of forgiveness that only God can show, and only those who follow His command at all costs.
2 comments:
Interesting! The mercy of God and of his saints is even greater than this!
The fact that the husband, "declared that he was willing to take her back again on the condition that she first kneeled down at the threshold of the house and asked pardon of all, even the servants, for the bad example she had given." still shows the imposition of human justice. But God is like the Father of the Gospel, who does not even wait until we finish expressing our contrition, and quickly covers us
with the garment of mercy and forgiveness restoring us to our dignity as sons. God does not allow the 'older brother' to accuse us
and refuses to satisfy the older brother's need for 'justice' and satisfaction, as he (the older brother)understands it.
In the Orthodox Church, the act of confession is done in the presence of the priest, and the penitent is not humiliated in the presence of all. During the rite of forgiveness Sunday we ask forgiveness of one person at the time.A much greater act of forgiveness on the part of the husband would have been to receive the wife and cover her and protect her in the presence of the whole household.
God is humble. He does not require his 'honor' to be avenged or the evil of our sin to be exposed for the satisfaction of his dignity.
St Dionysius of Zankynthos received the murderer of his brother, heard the confession and pardoned the criminal without even revealing that the victim was his brother. He even helped the murderer escape the authorities which would have certainly executed him. It is very hard for us to understand God's Justice (Mercy) versus human justice. Human justice is not unlawful. It demands satisfaction, but God shows us a more excellent way with eternal rewards.
Elder Paisios of Mount Athos has much to say about this subject in his books. Divine justice is very hard to learn and implement but with his Grace upon us, maybe we can begin to learn to love in this way.
Thank you Romanos!
Yes, David, the husband could have shown even greater mercy by accepting the wife back without a public humiliation, but this was necessary both for her benefit, and for the benefit of the members of the household who, had she simply come back and resumed her life as if nothing had happened, would have been very confused, leading to more occasions of sin, in the way of gossip, slander and perhaps worse things. As well, the wife might have yielded again to temptation. As it was, the fact that the husband never again mentioned or even alluded to the incident shows that he understood the laws of both holiness and mercy, and that he was aware of his own sinfulness.
Unless you have been married to a spouse who has betrayed you, and learned the lesson of forgiveness, you won't see the husband's acts in the right light. Yes, I know these stories of the Orthodox saints and their manner of forgiveness, and by the grace of God it was excellent, but no act of mercy can be compared to another as if to say, 'look, this is better than that one.' No, brother, mercy is mercy, whether it is shown by Orthodox, by Roman Catholics, by Protestants, by Jews, by Muslims, by believers or by non-believers. And nothing done in mercy is lost to God; He remembers all, and to Him alone is the judgment of all acts of mercy, as well as the fate of our souls.
Thanks for your comments.
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