Tuesday, February 24, 2015

The Sorrowful Mysteries and the DUI.

On Saturday there was a car accident a couple miles from my house that resulted in the loss of two lives.  It was an intersection that I have gone through many times myself.  Then, yesterday (Monday) I found out that one of the victims was none other than my next door neighbor.  She was only 23...  The other victim, Oscar, was a husband and a father of 3...  These realizations have brought the incident much closer to home, literally, right next door.  We immediately feel empathy for their families.  We can imagine what it would be like to lose a loved one, a coworker, a husband, a father, or even worse, a child.  The victims were each of these to someone.  

However, often overlooked, is empathy for the drunk driver whose mistake took their lives.  This morning during my Rosary I was shown how what the DUI driver is currently going through can be compared to the sorrowful mysteries of Christ.  The driver who caused the accident's name is Hector, but the same can be said for any driver who causes such an incident.
  • The Agony in the Garden.  I don't know what the faith background of Hector is, but I can assure you of one thing.  He prayed that night.  Jesus knelt in the garden asking his father if "this cup could be taken from him."  Hector prayed the same thing.  Whether out of genuine concern for those injured, or out of fear of the consequences.  It does not matter.  Such an incident can bring anyone to their knees to say "Lord I ask that you take this cup from me."  The part we have trouble with is what Jesus said next, "not according to my will but Yours."  We know that Hector understands the first part of Jesus' prayer very well.  We pray that he (and all of us) come to understand the second.
  • The Scourging at the Pillar.  Have you ever seen how cops treat criminals?  While I can't vouch for all of them, I can only imagine the humiliation Hector must have experienced in those first few hours.  If he was legally drunk, then he is legally responsible for killing two people.  I don't mean to say that cops are barbarians out to insult criminals, but if you are in custody, then things have likely gone horribly wrong for you at that moment.  Cops are the first responders, and frequently, the only teachers who tell those in custody what they did and why it is wrong.  Those who were in charge of processing him likely did not have any compassion for the remorse he may have been feeling.  DUI's can be tricky things.  Have you ever asked yourself where the .08 came from?  Not everyone processes alcohol the same way.  Some people can be "fall over drunk" at .04, and others can be perfectly normal at .18.  We understand why there needs to be a legal benchmark, but Hector may not have "felt drunk" at the time he got behind the wheel.  We always imagine the driver of the vehicle to be the image of the person who drank a whole fifth in an hour and couldn't walk or talk.  It isn't the case.  Hector could have been .081 after 3 drinks (don't kid yourself, 3 can do it) and just tried to get himself and his friends from A to B.
  • The Crowing with Thorns. In this day of technology, word of someone's sins travels fast.  The next day, pictures of the victims and of Hector were released via Facebook.  The title of the article was "alleged DUI."  We have forgotten a couple things.  First, that the word "alleged" means something.  In my statistics class yesterday we went over how a 99.8% accurate test for a disease can be administered and come back positive, yet after that, there was only 1.3% chance of having it once you have tested positive.  Sound strange?  Do the math, or you can just trust me, I am a math teacher.  Do I believe that he was drunk? Sure, but let's not crucify him just yet.  Second, when his mug shot was released there were immediate comments that he was some sort of monster, who deserved to die in the place of the two victims.  We watch too many movies.  Do you really think that he is some sort of sociopath who feels no remorse for having killed two people?  No.  Do you really think that he said before he left his house that evening, "maybe I'll get tanked and run a red light and kill two people."  No.  He didn't say that.  This is not an episode of Law and Order.  He left his house wanting to have fun on a Saturday night, just like many people, including my wife, who was only one block away and could have easily chosen to go through that fateful intersection on the way home.  We need to pray for him, not judge his current state of remorse.  Jesus was mockingly labeled the "king of the Jews," and Hector is mockingly labeled as someone who deserves to die because he made a bad choice.
  • Jesus Carries his Cross. We all bear crosses each and every day.  We deal not only with our own suffering and the stress of life, but also with the weight of our own sin.  Have you ever heard a speaker talk about what it is like to be the drunk driver?  Hector will carry this cross forever.  It will leave a mark on him.  With time he can seek forgiveness from the parents and siblings of Molly and the family of Oscar.  And, most importantly, with reconciliation, he can seek forgiveness from our Father in heaven.  But, he will never forget, and neither will we.  We can take that suffering and unite it to Jesus on the cross.  Out of that will pour love, the same love that will help us forgive Hector and the same love that will let Hector forgive himself.
  • Jesus dies on the Cross.  Death is coming for all of us, there is nothing more sure than that.  Jesus' death was special, in that it bore the sins of each of us.  God uses all of the suffering in this world to bring about conversion, to bring about the greater good.  Let us hope that he uses the death of Molly and Oscar to bring about conversion in all of us.  Let us use this to remember that God's mercy is greater than our sin.  We pray that none lose faith in God because they have to suffer, but to recognize that their suffering more closely unites them to Christ, whether that suffering comes by way of the lost loved one, or the realization that you are the one that took their life.