67. Jerusalem, 1999 - Try empathy

In which Eleanor and Francois get some advice.

Father Jerry and Father Michel have something to say.

Eleanor

“But what about ‘Love the sinner, hate the sin’” I find myself blurting out to Jerry.

Jerry does a sharp intake of breath. His face flushes red, and he looks positively angry. “That’s an absolutely vile phrase, Eleanor. Is that what you believe?” His sharp blue eyes behind his glasses positively bore into me.

I shift uncomfortably in the armchair in his room. “I—” My voice trails off under Jerry’s uncompromising look.

Then his face softens a bit, “What did I say about love, Elle?” He gives a small sigh, as if he’s a teacher needing to remind a forgetful pupil of a basic lesson.

“Love is never wrong. It can be inconvenient, but love is never wrong.”

“Exactly”, Jerry nods, still looking hard at me, “So—?”

“But—” I try again.

One eyebrow lifts. Jerry’s look makes me squirm. It’s like he’s telling me I’m the one being unreasonable now, meanwhile it’s Francois who is being a hypocrite.

“Think it through, Elle. Think it through. Don’t just be a blind follower. Since when do you believe everything the church says? I know you know better than that.” I wince. He’s heard my frustrations over the injustice of what happened to Father Naim at St George’s, and before that how the church in South Africa wouldn’t support sanctions. “If you can love Mahdi, and I can love Naimh, why can’t Francois love who he loves?”

My mouth is dry. I feel like I’m the one being hauled over the carpet. But I wasn’t the one who’s done anything wrong.

Wrong.

I catch on the word. If love is never wrong…If love is never wrong.

“But it’s not about who Francois loves,” I blurt out. “It’s about the position he put the mission in, and his refusal to acknowledge that and apologize for it. He just dismissed me when I tried to speak to him like you said.”

“Yes, we’ll get to that. He absolutely erred in bringing porn into the office and exposing it to a journalist—and he needs to own that and apologize to you. But we need to deal with this first, Eleanor.” The use of my full name lands like a blow. I’m disappointing Jerry in some way. “I can tell you, Elle, as someone who studies ancient texts, and who lives a monastic life, homosexuality has never not been part of the human experience, or the religious experience for that matter. It’s humans who have made it a sin, not God. And only certain humans at that,” his face darkens.

“So the whole ‘love the sinner, hate the sin’ thing is—?“

“Think, Elle, what is it? You’re intelligent. What is it?”

Out of nowhere a memory of Natasha railing on the hockey fields at St Anne’s comes to mind. “The church is the most hypocritical entity on earth, Elle. It’s like it’s the evilest thing in the world to have sex before marriage, but killing and beating black people, that’s ok?”

“It’s hypocrisy,” I say flatly.

A smile cracks across Jerry’s severe face. “And so—?”

“Who Francois chooses to love is simply none of my damn business.”

“Bingo. Who he is Elle, and who he loves—that is none of, as you put it, your damn business. That is between him and God. Not you.”

“But we’re a diplomatic mission in the Middle East. It would compromise everything we’re trying to do here if this got out.”

“Yes. And that is the part you need to deal with. But that’s the only part you need to deal with Eleanor. The credibility of the mission—nothing else.” He steeples his hands over his stomach, his index fingers tapping each other lightly. “Can you think of the courage it must have taken for Francois to come to the Middle East, knowing who he is?”

I’ve never thought of it that way before.

“You and Francois are just going to have to continue to talk this out. He only has three more months until his posting ends, as I recall?” I nod. “But you still need a working relationship with him. You can’t just not talk to him for the next few months.” Jerry taps his fingers again. “I know you can be compassionate, Elle. I suggest seeing it from Francois’s point of view—what it must be like to be a gay man who has to hide he’s gay just to have a life, a career. If you can show some empathy, he might be more willing to own his behavior here.”

I swallow, my mind processing everything. I’m still adjusting to this new perspective.

I wish it were as easy to wash off ideology as it is to wash the dirt off one’s hands.

Francois

Francois paces in Father Michel’s office. “She’s just so fucking clueless” he blurts out angrily. “She has no idea.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Michel calmly responds from his chair “How can she? She’s a product of her upbringing, just as you are. She hasn’t lived your life. But blaming her for that is hardly fair either.”

Francois knows he’s right. But god, Eleanor Williams’ self-righteous silent treatment —it’s insufferable.

“You still need a working relationship with her. You can’t just freeze her out. Much though I know you might want to,” Michel adds with wry amusement, as he sees the look of disgust on Francois’ face. “You’re going to have to talk this through with her.”

Francois recoils. He does not need to explain or justify his being gay to Eleanor. Being done with the guilt for who he is—it’s been life changing.

“I’ll remind you of what I’ve told you before: people can surprise you. Yes, some can be very judgemental. But some can also be very understanding—or become so.” Michel flicks some dust off his trousers. “Unless you give them an opportunity to understand, you’re the one keeping yourself locked in the prison of how you think they’ll judge you.” He looks hard at Francois. “Try some empathy for the position you put Eleanor in by bringing this into the office. You didn’t have to. But you did. Now you have to deal with the consequences of that choice.”

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Chapter One | Table of Contents

2nd Last Book Club

Second Last Book Club will be Saturday, May 31, 2025 at 10am ET (3pm London/ 4pm South Africa).

Join us!