12 th June: 4 th Sunday after Pentecost

One Friday night, after a particularly demanding day in the hospital, I was finally preparing to leave. I was already over an hour and a half late leaving work as I switched off the computer, preparing for the comments about working too hard from my husband as I fell asleep on the sofa soon after my arrival home, when there was a knock on my office door.

My first thought to this inopportune sound, which I am not proud to write, was a great desire to shout with my remaining energy “Go away!” at this impertinent enquirer. Fortunately, I had enough tact to remember that this wouldn’t exactly be the welcoming impression the hospital chaplaincy works hard to provide. So, I opened the office door, probably with more of a grimace than a grin.

A woman in her late thirties ¹ stood on the other side of the door with a forced smile. “Sorry, I don’t mean to disturb you,” she began. “I am not a patient, actually I have nothing to do with the hospital. I just need to talk. In fact, I saw the light on in here ten minutes ago, but I was so scared I walked away. But, somehow I got the strength to come back, hoping the light would still be on.” Hearing these words and seeing the tears streaming from her eyes, made me feel deeply ashamed of my initial urge to dismiss this stranger, and I invited her in.

She began by telling me that she was was in London researching for a book. She found London terribly busy and anonymous and was looking forward to returning to her home on a different continent, and to seeing her husband and children. I assumed that this woman was understandably homesick, and was looking for somebody to help combat her loneliness.

However, as she continued talking, she became increasingly distressed and wondered how she could ever look her children in the eyes again. She spoke of her marriage, how she and her husband had been “good Christians” both restraining themselves from sexual intercourse until after the wedding and neither having slept with anyone else before meeting. She spoke of his being a good and loving husband, and that they were proud of having brought their children up to “love the Lord Jesus”. Before coming to England she never once been tempted to be unfaithful, however upon mentioning this I noticed that she attempted to hide her face with her hair, as she said that she had become friends with another person from the same country to her who was living in the same hostel. They became very close, and she felt they shared the same experience of feeling isolated in this foreign land and missing home, and one night, this need to feel a human bond led, a month earlier, to their initiating sexual intercourse, however she soon stopped as she felt tremendous guilt.

She spoke of valuing honesty within marriage and had resolved to tell her husband, despite being terrified that this might entail losing him. Thus, I now assumed she had knocked on the chaplaincy door for guidance about how to approach the subject. But, she informed me that her friend hadn’t used ‘protection’, she was haunted by the very real fear that she may have contracted HIV, and didn’t know how to arrange an HIV test. She worried that if she were to visit a doctor in England, owing to the terms of her medical insurance and the workings of her country’s healthcare system, he might discover before she had returned home that she had felt it necessary to be tested for sexually transmitted diseases, when she wanted to tell him herself.

Here, in tears, was a lonely, terrified woman in a place where she didn’t feel she belonged, seeking help from me, a tired stranger. What should I have done? Surely, it would have been understandable had I reacted in the manner of the Pharisee, who, after inviting Jesus to his home, had been aghast that Jesus had allowed a ‘sinful’ woman to touch him with ointment. I could have said, “By your own behaviour, you have brought these fears of HIV and marital breakdown upon yourself, get out of my space”.

Alternatively, I could have acted in a similar way to those who dined with Jesus at the Pharisee’s table. For after they had heard Jesus forgive the sins of the woman, they were reported to have said, “Who is this who even forgives sins?”. Likewise, I, too, could have simply washed my hands of her and said, “I’m afraid no outsider can possibly help you, this is for you and your conscience to fix”.

But neither of these responses would have been fitting from me, a person who, like all of us, has at times failed to follow Christ but still lives in the hope of his forgiveness and hearing his words, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace”. Moved by compassion and empathy, I wanted to help this woman in any way I was able. Thus, in a very pragmatic move, I switched my computer on once again.

I suggested to her that, rather than allowing her past actions and emotions—her loneliness, her guilt and her fear of having HIV—to overwhelm her, that she needed to break this down. I said that she was no longer alone, that I would support her and that together we would find a path through.

While she lived with the terrifying suspicion of having a life-limiting sexually transmitted disease, I believed that she needed a definitive answer. I told her of a health clinic close to the hospital which offered free, completely confidential sexual health checks to anyone, even without an appointment. Turning to my computer, I confirmed the clinic’s location and opening hours. She appeared evidently comforted that she wouldn’t have to attend by herself as I said I would be there throughout, and we agreed to go as soon as it opened the following Monday.

The morning we agreed to attend, she was understandably frightened, nervous at the result of the tests. She was soon called, and I promised to wait. I must admit I did become self conscious, wondering what people must have thought of me, sitting in a sexual health clinic wearing a clerical collar!

I will never forget the smile she gave me when I saw her. The result of the test was HIV Negative, nor did she have any other sexually transmitted diseases.

Afterwards, she spoke of being amazed that such a clinic existed, that in her own country there was no such confidential health service, that a bill would be sent to the “head of the household”, outlining the reason why one had seen the doctor. She believed that such a place could be a place of inner healing and help the path to seeking forgiveness. I was impressed by her genuine enthusiasm and wish that such clinics existed in her nation. She is an intelligent and committed woman and she told me that, when she returns, she is going to try and develop such a service in her town as a way of preventing the ever-expanding number of people contracting HIV. I didn’t doubt her authentic commitment.

It is Jesus’s words in today’s gospel reading that really capture this story for me: “Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.”