Who is the greatest sinner?

The man given everything he has ever wanted or needed, loving parents, all the abilities to guarantee success in life, the best schools, a beautiful safe and secure home, a loving and faithful wife, healthy beautiful successful children, a great career, all the money he could ever want, or use, then one day he finds himself walking along, maybe a bit more frustrated then usual for a day perhaps a bit more challenging then average.

As he glances up his path, he notices a another man lying on the side of the road, derelict, dirty, unshaven, his appearance on the outside of his ragged and torn tweed coat mimics the condition inside paralyzing his life. Maybe he is even drunk, most certainly the man has pissed himself, because the stench of his life is already finding its way into our man’s nose, even at a distance.

Their eyes meet, the unfortunate man calling with eyes of hunger, need, want, quickly finds his glance to be met with contempt, repulsion, and even loathing. The only thing worse is the immediate turning away, as if he doesn’t even exit, further confirming what has long been whispered in his ear, he is insignificant, unloved, unwanted, and dirty.

“Why did he do that to me? What have I done to the other, how have I hurt him merely being there?” our perfect Creation asks himself as he receives yet another lash.

Our man turns his gaze away, and as quickly, steps into the street to cross, rushing a bit faster then normal to hurry along, as an attempt to dodge the inevitable confrontation inside his own spirit. Better to ignore, and act as if he didn’t even see the child in need, then to feel the pangs of guilt as he rushes past in his corner of his world. Just around the building and turn the corner, and forget he ever seen that creature.

Another man approaches from the adjacent street. His life not so blessed. Pain, and ridicule, coupled with abandonment where all his parents ever gave him, beaten and abused for as long as he can remember, his own drunk father would rather torture his young child with unending ferocity, then attempt to remember the beating he himself endured all the years of his youth. There was never a teacher that gave him a caring hand, never a woman who loved him, love seemed to just be myth that had never quite graced his lips, no kind words, no gentle touch, only the sting of the staff across his back, a fist in the face, spit, garbage, those where his bed companions.

As he hurries around the corner, he almost stumbles over a derelict lying in the street. Stepping on the man as he avoids falling on him, the poor old soul cries out in pain and fright. The voice has a familiar ring, smell laced alcohol, rough corse tone, and torn tweed jacket, that launch an explosion of memories, triggering reactions that have bottled up for years.

The beating the larger man ensues onto the defenseless child, is wild blood laced and extreme, animal in nature, no mercy is shown, for time is not taken to even consider it. Bone breaking from the severity of the many blows, would leave an onlooker questioning is it the attacker hands, or the poor mans face the are eliciting the many loud cracking sounds. There are two men crying out, one in utter agony, whimpers of pain and noises of life being kicked from his body, the other grunts and aggressive screeches of exploding forces that have been released after years of torment.

Finally realizing what he has done the larger man releases his limp, moaning victim from his vicious grip. Both men now crying, each for very different yet similar reasons. The large child turns to leave, his eyes wanting to turn away, as to not feel the guilt.

Their eyes meet, the unfortunate man calling with eyes of hunger, need, want, quickly finds his glance to be met with contempt, repulsion, and even loathing. The only thing worse is the immediate turning away, as if he doesn’t even exit, further confirming what has long been whispered in his ear, he is insignificant, unloved, unwanted, and dirty.

“Why did he do that to me? What have I done to the other, how have I hurt him merely being there?” our perfect Creation asks himself as he receives yet another lash.

Our man turns his gaze away, and as quickly, steps into the street to cross, rushing a bit faster then normal to hurry along, as an attempt to dodge the inevitable confrontation inside his own spirit. Better to ignore, and act as if he didn’t even see the child in need, then to feel the pangs of guilt as he rushes past in his corner of his world. Just around the building and turn the corner, and forget he ever seen that creature.

Which of these men are the greatest sinner’s?

Answer; Both equal!
They are both poor little children who happen to sin. Both deserving the same love.

By Peter Colla

“Forgive me Lord Jesus, for I am all of these men. Forgive all of my sins, my acts against others, my acts of avoidance, and my acts of laziness where I might allow myself to fall victim.”