He'd felt it before; he'd been numb and lost for words before. Possibly more times in the last few days than ever in the rest of his life. This was really nothing - should have been nothing - but another reminder of how far out of his depth Father O'Reilly was.
But it felt like much, much more than that.
It felt like a test. A test of Father O'Reilly's ability to help. Or, if not a test, then... an expression of faith in that same ability. Not on Solomon's part, but a vote of confidence nonetheless. Trust. A responsibility Father O'Reilly had felt and embraced in his work before now. There was absolutely no reason for that to change, apart from his own shock and misgivings. And those should not have been a factor.
It didn't take Father O'Reilly a while to answer this time. He answered slowly, but almost immediately, operating as much on his own instincts as he could, and doing his best not to overthink the words.
"I... can't comment on that, other than I doubt that it was intentional." A symptom that Solomon, if his reaction just now was any indication, hadn't even been aware of until today. "Killing with kindness is a little harsh. Don't think of religious faith as some sort of solution, one way or the other. The only one who can change your life is you. And that certainly can't happen until you believe that change is something you want and something you deserve. Faith and belief can be a way to do that, but it shouldn't be where you stop. And having that faith doesn't necessarily absolve you."
He took a deep breath, and tried to imagine the conversation from a more analytical and practical viewpoint - from Solomon's viewpoint. "Your life is still yours. Your choices are still yours. No one's going to do the work of changing for you, not even our Lord. That's the sanctity of the free will we're blessed with."
He picked up the teddy bear to set it gently on the small side table under the window, positioning it so that it faced Solomon. "I don't see this as absolution, or as punishment. I see it as a gesture of support. God will not abandon anyone who does not want to be abandoned, but the rest is up to you."
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But it felt like much, much more than that.
It felt like a test. A test of Father O'Reilly's ability to help. Or, if not a test, then... an expression of faith in that same ability. Not on Solomon's part, but a vote of confidence nonetheless. Trust. A responsibility Father O'Reilly had felt and embraced in his work before now. There was absolutely no reason for that to change, apart from his own shock and misgivings. And those should not have been a factor.
It didn't take Father O'Reilly a while to answer this time. He answered slowly, but almost immediately, operating as much on his own instincts as he could, and doing his best not to overthink the words.
"I... can't comment on that, other than I doubt that it was intentional." A symptom that Solomon, if his reaction just now was any indication, hadn't even been aware of until today. "Killing with kindness is a little harsh. Don't think of religious faith as some sort of solution, one way or the other. The only one who can change your life is you. And that certainly can't happen until you believe that change is something you want and something you deserve. Faith and belief can be a way to do that, but it shouldn't be where you stop. And having that faith doesn't necessarily absolve you."
He took a deep breath, and tried to imagine the conversation from a more analytical and practical viewpoint - from Solomon's viewpoint. "Your life is still yours. Your choices are still yours. No one's going to do the work of changing for you, not even our Lord. That's the sanctity of the free will we're blessed with."
He picked up the teddy bear to set it gently on the small side table under the window, positioning it so that it faced Solomon. "I don't see this as absolution, or as punishment. I see it as a gesture of support. God will not abandon anyone who does not want to be abandoned, but the rest is up to you."