1 Corinthians 13:1
1 If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.
Two weeks ago, my sister and I sat in a little conference room with the surgeon who had just spent three hours cutting a malignant ovarian tumor out of my mother’s abdomen. He talked about removing 7 liters of fluid, a grapefruit sized tumor, and many little cancers sprinkled liberally throughout her abdomen.
And as he talked I found it so hard to really make myself listen to what he had to say. His words were hard to hear. Each one of his points was almost worse than the one before it!
I wouldn’t say that he spoke necessarily soothingly. It would be very difficult to soothe over such hard facts. But he spoke softly and clinically like a scientist. Sometimes when he described how he had to gently move things around this tumor before he could remove it, he sounded a little like an artist. Even so each word and phrase slashed a little piece of my heart.
I thought about that verse from 1 Corinthians.
That certainly fit the situation. I am not blaming this doctor of any wrongdoing at all. However every word from his mouth hurt my ears, hurt my mind and my heart. The Blessed Mother could have told me these same things with much gentleness and they still would have hurt the same. Sometimes the reality of the situation is painful.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. A few years ago, a number of Catholic bloggers and blog readers tried to convince another Catholic blogger not to abort her fetus. That discussion and the aftermath still lingers. Much of it was painful on both sides. I’ve certainly been accused of “not speaking the truth in love.” I’ve been told that because I am a sister in Christ, it is wrong for me to react strongly to the actions of others. I have been told that it how I say things is more important than what I actually say. But with my interest in logical fallacies, something about that just does not ring true to me.
Today at home three firetrucks roared by the house with their sirens blasting and lights blaring. Certainly they were much louder than a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. Yet their blare sends a warning, clears the way and helps to save lives and property. And much like the surgeon’s words the reality of their sounds was truth and a reality that needed to be faced; a reality that if ignored would only bring even more heartache and sorrow. If they slowed down or turned off the sirens would that make their purpose more loving? It seems ridiculous to even think so.
Partially because of the discussion with the surgeon and this past history, I had this in the back of my mind as I attended a funeral this week. The second reading was from 2 Timothy really got my attention:
1In the presence of God and of Christ Jesus, who will judge the living and the dead, and in view of his appearing and his kingdom, I give you this charge: 2Preach the Word; be prepared in season and out of season; correct, rebuke and encourage—with great patience and careful instruction. 3For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. 4They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths. 5But you, keep your head in all situations, endure hardship, do the work of an evangelist, discharge all the duties of your ministry.
So maybe what really matters, is that the truth be heard. Sure we can all work on our presentation, and we should be tolerant of the less than stellar delivery of others. But what always matters the most is the message. .
Substance over style.
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