“Jesus won’t save you.”
“No. Momma He will.”
“He won’t because you have sinned. He will save you only if He loves you.”
“Momma, Jesus loves everybody; sinners, even me.”
Telling isn’t it? Little children scared by their parents into submission to the world of religion that the child doesn’t understand, more often than not, the parent doesn’t. God has to love us sinners more than the saints for we need him the most. He shall have to put faith in us, for we need most forgiveness. He shall have to pay more attention to us, for we need Him.
The little novel by Marquez talks of good, of evil, of love, of passion, of deceit, of gods that Christian religion doesn’t understand, of madness, of solitary sorrow, of debauched misgivings, of addictions, of the eternal human caprice to want to reach a place where morality can be left at the doorstep and deep breaths in the arms of the forbidden beloved shall not be looked upon with a disapproving eye.
The little girl Sierva Maria found peace in the lies that she told her European parents, in the songs she sang for the African housemaids, in the arms of the priest Cayetano Delaura in the cold dreary prison cell of the convent, in the moment when she knew that it was her last breath. The priest was doomed by his education and direction in life when it was confronted with the bounteous beauty of life. Vows of celibacy are just so trite. Love is what steps out of the hackneyed path. The Marquis’ love for the mad woman, Abrenuncio’s love of horses, the Bishop’s love of the motherland… the Abbess’ love for herself all lead to but one path.
Madness, solitude, anger, tantrums, love, sex, drugs are all sedatives that set humans on the track of domesticity. Some hide these afflictions better than others. Others hide their illicit affairs. Each act of pure physical love gets mired in terms of adultery or prostitution. Each act of romantic love is an act of cheating. We sinners need God most. God needs us sinners the most. Ours is the symbiotic relationship.
Walk in, flit out, sift through, take stock, have some recourse, make demands, let go, hang on… where does it all lead us? Nowhere to go, nowhere to hide; look for kindred spirits, look for redemption, look for those arms that never was for us in the first place. He doesn’t exist. If he does, he loves someone else. He wants someone else. He lies in bed with you but he sleeps with her. You sleep with someone else. You’re all alone. You’re on your own. You drink, you forget, you see someone else.
When was the last time you woke up to someone you expected to wake up next to??