The Parable of the Faithful Wife

by Lisa H.

Jesus used parables in his ministry to turn “fundamental presuppositions and assumptions upside down” (Ludwig, 4). Sometimes we too have to be knocked over the head and shoved out of familiar territory with a truth so opposed to our usual thinking that we can’t believe it could be true, but on the other hand, we just can’t ignore it no matter how hard we try (Ludwig, 4-6).  Just as Jesus challenged his followers to understand the reign of God through parables, we too can be “parabled.”

“Parabled” by a Priest

I arrived at Kunsan Air Base, South Korea in May 2004 to be in charge of the base infrastructure commanding about 1200 people. As I settled in, I breathed a sigh of relief and felt the wrench of worry simultaneously. It was only after much discussion and preparation that I had left my husband and 16-year old daughter in San Antonio for this unaccompanied assignment. My husband was an alcoholic and had been for our 18 years of marriage. He’d had his bad times, dry spells, resolutions, and bouts with counselors. When I announced my selection for this Korean tour, he seemed to “improve,” planning for a job and stepping up to manage the household.

I believe that marriage is for life, a covenant and a sacrament before God. I believe that marriage takes work. I thought staying with my alcoholic husband through the throes of his “disease” was “the right thing to do.” I believed God that wanted me to carry my cross—the heavier, the better. I worked hard to keep things together and I was loyal to the secret “elephant in the parlor” to a fault. I was the breadwinner, strategic planner, and “single” parent. Meanwhile, I was “substituting” the daily chaos and instability of my home life for the order, discipline and accomplishment of my life’s vocation as a military officer.

By November, he was hallucinating and hospitalized. On January 6th, I prayed to God for a sign—what was I supposed to do? On the 7th, he was arrested for a DUI in exactly the spot where 10 months prior my brother had died in a biking accident—not the revelation I was looking for.

Rumors at my base traveled from the front gate to the back gate in less than five minutes. Not wanting gossiping to spread, I went to the only person who could offer guaranteed confidentiality—the Catholic chaplain. I was hoping that he would be sympathetic to my situation and give me some coping advice. I was looking for confirmation that I was doing the “right thing” maybe even for a pat on the back for weathering the storm. I’d seen Fr. Z every Sunday at Mass (since attending was “the right thing to do”). I explained the situation as I saw it, he listened, and said:

Why are you still with him?

My unspoken reaction: Excuse me?  Because that’s what a good wife does—do I have to tell you that?  Catholics can’t get divorced! I vowed to take care of him “in sickness and in health.”

It seems he decided some time ago to be married to the bottle, not you.

My thought: Well now, wait a minute, he never stopped loving me through all of this alcohol stuff. You’re saying he chose the bottle over me? Am I that worthless?

Your responsibility to shield your daughter from unnecessary suffering and take care of yourself takes precedence over babysitting an alcoholic who has consistently refused your help.

My silent retort: I do a good job of taking care of my daughter, thank you very much. And it’s not about me—it’s my responsibility to take care of my family, I’ll be O.K.

Your spiritual journey is where you’ll find the answers you’re looking for.

My undeclared rejoinder: You get results from hard work and sacrifice; you go to God for help to keep persevering, but he won’t help you if you don’t “do the right thing.”

I went back to my peaceful, orderly little house. Life minus the ubiquitous tension of a drunken presence sounded wonderful, but what about my obligations? For the first time in years I truly prayed.

Post-Parable Transformation

After quite a bit of pacing on my “spiritual path,” I accepted the reversal this “slap-in-the-face” parable presented to me—the parable gave God room (Ludwig, 8; 16). On my journey through the stages of perplexity, uncertainty and eventual acceptance, I’ve made some astonishing discoveries about who God is and who I am.

First, I am not in control (Ludwig, 6). This is quite a statement for one who previously prided herself on being in total “control.” God is in charge. No matter how hard I tried I wasn’t going to save my ex-husband from alcoholism, only he with God could do that.  Under God’s care, my daughter has blossomed; all the more mature because of the positive results of the suffering she experienced. But to accept this with humility, I had to move into fear’s deep waters and trust God was the one keeping me afloat.

Second, God wants me to be happy and whole in this life. Doing “the right thing” and being a success in my profession doesn’t earn me God’s attention and love. Carrying crosses is good and necessary work, but needless martyrdom denies the gifts of beauty and joy available to me now. God’s reign is personal, it’s for me (Ludwig, 2)–ideas I still struggle with every day in praying Blessed John XXIII’s words:

“…Only for today, I will be happy in the certainty that I was created to be happy, not only in the other world but also in this one….Only for today, I will firmly believe, despite appearances, that the good Providence of God cares for me as no one else who exists in this world…”

Third, asking God for signs was misguided. It’s impossible to predict God’s ways (Ludwig, 2). In my time of crises, I could have never guessed what a wonderful future God had in store for me. Amazingly an all-powerful God lets me take my best shot at making choices for myself and then supports me in those choices (Rom 8:28) (Ludwig, 3).

Finally, the reign of God is not something we put off for later. Sure, we suffer in this life, but there are great joys available right this moment—healthy relationships, the beauty of nature, the gift of life (Ludwig, 7). Fixating and worrying about the future denies the wonder of God’s kingdom in the present (Ludwig, 2).

Being “parabled” was painful, but for me, the result was the same unbelievable gift that Jesus offered to his first century followers–trust and faith in a God who reigns!