When We Don’t Know as Much as We Think We Do (03/18/2024)

It was 1984. I was running errands in downtown Tipton, Iowa. When I walked into the bank to deposit a check, still brushing the dirt off my skirt, an acquaintance walked up to me and said, “Was the person you hit with your car hurt badly?”  I shook my head in disbelief. “What?” I asked. “I heard you ran over a gal on her bike. Was she hurt badly?” I looked at the person, then pointed to my skirt with the imprint of a bike tire running up to my waistband. “She ran over me in the crosswalk,” I stated. “Oh,” she said, “that’s not what I heard.”  I smiled then, brushed my skirt a bit more, and said, “It’s not your fault. The rumor mill isn’t what it used to be.”

That day is etched in my memory. I was running errands downtown, as I said. Our little city had only one stop light. I waited for the “walking pedestrian” to appear and started across the street. That was when I saw this woman on a bike with a gallon of milk in one hand along with the handlebar and a plastic bag of groceries in the other. She didn’t see me, I could tell. She was watching the light trying to time her speed so she could ride right through it. I bobbed and weaved, trying to figure out the best escape; but I was too late. She ran right into me with her bike. The milk went one way, the groceries went another, and she went down. Stunned, I reached down to her. “Are you all right?” I asked. Immediately she broke out in uncontrollable sobs.

I tried to assure her it was going to be all right. I helped her up. I picked up her milk and her groceries. Her knee was badly scraped. Her pride was in tatters. “My car is right there,” I said, pointing to my Pontiac. “Why don’t I drive you and your bike home?” And so, I put her bike and purchases in the trunk, her in the front seat, handed her tissues to put on her knee, and we were off. When I got her home, I helped her inside, cleaned her wound, poured her a glass of lemonade from her fridge, got some frozen vegetables that she told me to get as an ice pack, and knowing she was okay, returned downtown to run my errand. This time I drove around until I could park in a place that didn’t require crossing the street.

I saved the skirt I was wearing because of the perfect imprint of bike tread on it to verify my version of the story. But it kept coming up. People had seen me helping her into my car and putting her bike in my car. They assumed I’d hit her with my car.

Frequently in our lives we get only a piece of the truth. It gets worse every day because of the myriad of ways people get their news and also spread their version of the news. But the question is, how much of what we think we know is really true? Is our opinion of others or of institutions somewhat off because we’re operating on half-truths or outright mistruths?

Today’s gospel reading is of the woman caught in adultery from the Gospel of John (John 8). Jesus’ advise to the scribes and Pharisees who wanted to stone the woman as the law allowed was that the first stone should be tossed by the one without sin. We all know how that ended. In shame, each turned and walked away. Truly, the only one without sin that day and in that place was Jesus. But He didn’t condemn her. He told her, “Go, and from now on do not sin.”

We’re told not to judge others. We’re told that judgment belongs to our LORD alone. But we struggle with that rule. As we go forward in our Lenten journey, let us keep the woman in our mind and Jesus’ response to her. Let us remember that only the sinless should judge; and also remember that is not us.  Let us open our minds and hearts to others and to the possibilities when we set down judgments realizing we truly can’t know the whole story, only the LORD can.

Until tomorrow, let us all love well.