Charlie's Priest

It's always interesting to me
When somebody gives up
On God

God has been a part of my life
For so long
I often forget that to some people
He's optional

When I hear someone say
They don't believe in God
It's like hearing they say
They don't believe in the sky
Or the grass
Or rain

I suppose it's anyone's choice
To believe in those things
But I see God as clearly
As most people
See the clouds

Charlie's wife came to see me
When his best friend...

When there was the incident
With his best friend

When he took his life

I didn't know Charlie's friend
But I knew how broken up
Charlie was about it

His wife seemed to think
He was experiencing some sort
Of spiritual crisis

So I went to see him

He was outside
Washing his car
When I pulled up

I got out
Picked up a sponge
And started to help

I've found it's best
To let people who are in pain
Speak first

Just be there
And let them know you're there
And eventually they'll tell you
What they need from you

Sometimes all they need
Is for you to stand there

Some of the best counsel I've ever given
Was given silently

Just standing there saying--There's someone here

You're not alone

When Charlie spoke he said--

'I won't be coming back to the church, Father'

I asked him why and he said--

'I asked God to save him, and he didn't.'

I explained to Charlie
That God can't save us
We can only save ourselves

He became angry with me
But I expected that

'What happens if we can't save ourselves,' he asked, 'What happens if we're not strong enough?  Then God gives up, and we're screwed?  Is that what that means?'

I said--'Charlie, I went into the priesthood because I had so many questions.  I have more now than I did then.  My life is constructed of questions without answers.  I've tried to let those questions enrich me rather than frustrate me.  What would be the point in waking up every day if not to try and answer the questions?'

Charlie dipped a rag
In a bucket of water
And ran it
Up against the side of his car

'Maybe he got the answers,' he said, shaking his head, 'Maybe he got the answers and he didn't like them.'

'It's possible,' I said, 'Anything--really--is possible.'

Charlie meant what he said

He didn't come back to the church
Until a few years later
When his daughter got sick
And then recovered

I sat in the hospital with him
And when I started to pray
He began to speak the words along with me
And even though it was under terrible circumstances
I was glad

After that I'd see Charlie in the back of the church
Sitting quietly
While his wife and daughter sat up front
Until the divorce
And then I stopped seeing him again

Occasionally he'd get up
And sing with the choir
And when that happened
I was especially pleased

We never had a conversation about his friend again
Or his faith
But I could tell there were still more wandering uncertainty left in him
Still confusion
Still disbelief

I hope that when he passed on
He was given what he needed

Either the answers
Or the ability to make peace
With the questions