Didymus Notes: A Dialogue – 14th Sunday in Ordinary Time; July 9, 2006
Ezekiel 2:2-5, 2 Corinthians 12:7-10, Mark 6:1-6
Dear Didymus,
I saw you from a distance yesterday the way I did Nathaniel when he sat under the fig tree. He didn’t notice me then. I’m certain you didn’t see me either. There was a look in your eyes that I hadn’t seen for a long time. The peace that I had become accustomed to was gone, replaced by anxiety – almost a haunted look.
What has happened? I haven’t heard from you for what seems like ages. We used to talk regularly, at least you wrote regularly. Sometimes I didn’t need to reply. You sensed that I was with you, didn’t you? Now there is only silence. I see in your face what I saw the first time we met. That makes me sad. We had a commitment to each other, I thought. I haven’t broken it from my side. Have you from yours?
Jesus
Dear Jesus,
I wondered if you would miss me, if you would notice the silence. I don’t know what to say. I knew that you would come after me someday. But for some time now I guess I have been in hiding, not under a fig tree, but inside myself. It’s dark inside. The sun doesn’t reach there. It’s feels like the upper room on that first Easter night. Doors locked. Windows barred. Darkness. Something happens when darkness envelopes. My energy flags. I become preoccupied with myself. I have to keep telling myself that it is important that I sit here.
Yes, I am isolated. I don’t remember when that realization dawned on me. But once I chose this I didn’t see how I could escape.
I have pushed away from you. Being close to you is hard. I’m always comparing and feeling that I come up short. You never said that. You never condemned nor were condescending. It is my doing, I know. Then someone questioned our relationship and told me I had changed. Should I stay in the relationship and risk losing myself?
So I decided to keep a distance from you, I don’t know if I made the right decision. It just feels like something I have to do lest I lose myself.
Didymus
Dear Didymus,
I have missed you. But I would never impose myself on you. Being in my company has to be a choice. Think back. Remember where you were, the state of mind you were in the first time we met. As I recall, I didn’t do much more than listen as I watched the pain registered on your face. You said you felt lost. You thought a lot about your past so that your sins loomed inescapably in your consciousness. Remember that you doubted you could ever be forgiven. You thought you were unworthy of friendship, unlovable.
Then you began to listen. Sometimes I didn’t even have to use words. I just asked you who had left you with the impressions that you toted about like baggage too heavy to carry. Who said you were unlovable? And who said you could not be forgiven?
It wasn’t long before I noticed a difference. Calm entered. The panic in your eyes and the tension in your jaw vanished, replaced by a sparkle and ease and the ability to laugh again. I thought what we shared was a source of strength for you. And you were able to pray again, to believe that God loves you and that I love you. I remember that you told me how important I was in your finding that new peace.
You are important to me. I have missed hearing from you. I am reminded of the time I watched that other one turn and walk away preferring his own resources to being dependent upon me. But, Didymus, I didn’t want you to be so much dependent upon me as I wanted you to live your life as I live mine with the same confidence I have in our Father’s love. My love for you reflects that love. And it can only be expressed by pouring out my very self in loving service. Is that what you feared? Was it being vulnerable that caused you to turn and retreat?
Whatever the source of the choice you make, I want you to know that you are very dear to me.
Jesus
Dear Jesus,
I am writing through tears. You always do that to me. I feel naked, exposed. You know the very core of my being. When I am with you I feel wonderful. But is that an illusion? I can’t get away from this terrible feeling of unworthiness. You love me beyond my worth. I find acceptance with you and meaning in my life. Do I dare tell you that I think of you as my beloved? Because of you I have begun to think that huge tasks will become manageable. I even see myself doing what you do, loving others who otherwise feel alone and abandoned the way I did. Then doubt enters.
What happens if I get too close to the fire? What is left of me? I am unworthy. So many friendships in my past have failed. Ones I thought I loved left me. Or rather, when I felt myself getting too close I panicked and did something to make them flee the relationship.
Is that what I am doing with you? I feel that I have to find a way to blame you, to find fault with you. I’m miserable. I can’t get you out of my mind even as I sit in the dark afraid of you. I don’t know what to do. I want to feel your arms around me again, your strength supporting me.
Help me.
Didymus
My dear Didymus,
Did you forget that I love you? That love remains even if you turn your back on me and flee. Remember the story I told about the Prodigal Son? Remember the prodigal Father? The Father is prodigal because he loves so extravagantly. Remember that every evening he stood in the roadway in the face of the setting sun and searched the horizon for a glimpse of the son on his way home again? That’s what I do for you.
Didymus, when one is loved, it is not because of worthiness. The lover sees what is loveable and loves beyond the worth. It is a foretaste of heaven to be loved and love in return. That is what God has in mind for you forever.
Won’t you please come back? There are so many things I would like to share with you. You are my friend. I love you.
May I hear from you again soon? Can we be friends again?
Jesus
Notes from Didymus 
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