Five minutes of… peace and Truth

Dear Zorin,
Rarely have I been more impressed—deeply stirred, even—by a story than I was when I read your short story, "5 Minutes of Peace."
As I read, I found myself wondering: why am I tearing up? It is, after all, just a story—sad and harsh, perhaps, but still a story. I have read many moving and deeply sorrowful tales—Kafka’s *The Metamorphosis* or Katherine Mansfield’s *The Garden Party*, for instance.
After a while, I arrived at the answer myself, and it was simple: the story describes a great... truth. A harsh truth. It depicts—with almost surgical precision—the reality of our condition as human beings: we are deeply troubled, our souls are incomplete, and we bear fundamental scars in our character. It follows, then, that even the "truths" we speak—which might be technically or legally "correct"—can only ever be as flawed as we are ourselves. They are incomplete, bearing the very scars that—as your story so masterfully illustrates—lead either to our own spiritual or physical destruction, or to the ruin of both ourselves and those to whom we "unload" these truths.
In our current state, I have no remedy for this fundamental malady. We are cursed when we lie; yet—as you suggest through the character of old Iosif—we are perhaps even more cursed when we speak the truth, for that truth is just as limited and scarred as we are.
But there is something that caught my attention—something that truly struck me—in your story. There is an expression: "the truth will set you free." Unfortunately, this has become a cliché—often repeated, and frequently without any real meaning. Without meaning to—having been "classically" educated on the Bible, Hugo, Tolstoy, Dickens, and Eminescu (I’m not trying to show off; it’s actually a burden these days—as I suspect you know quite well yourself)—my mind went straight to the source of this phrase. Which, of course, is Christ. When the Pharisees—who took pride in their freedom as "sons of Abraham"—crossed the line, Jesus told them, quite simply: "If you know the truth, it will set you free!"
But Jesus was not referring to the accuracy of a particular statement, nor to mere facts, nor to the various "truths" we hold to be true. He knew—"because He knew what was in their souls"—that even when we express indisputable truths (perhaps *especially* then), these are not... the pure truth. We cannot access such purity; we are damaged, selfish, subjective, and—let’s be honest—often even malicious. Not always—at least for most of us—but often enough to hurt others, and to be hurt ourselves. Hurt by our own "truths"—much like those voiced by old Joseph and the villagers.
Jesus was referring to something else. Or, rather, to Someone Else! When the disciple Thomas expresses his frustration at not knowing the path along which the Savior is leading him, He responds simply and directly: "I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father (to God) except through Me."
The Truth—the *true*, complete, perfect Truth—the Word full of Grace and... Truth (see the Gospel according to John, Chapter 1), full of forgiveness and divine love for us—incomplete, damaged, "sinful" human beings—extending even to the supreme sacrifice of the Godhead: this Truth is neither merely a true statement nor an authentic expression. It is a Person. It is the God who sacrificed Himself for us. We do not even begin to comprehend His sacrifice. God is infinite. Could it be that His pain, too, is infinite? (The Apocalypse, as well as the Apostle Paul, speak of the Lamb who was slain (killed through violence) from... the foundation of the world...”

This Truth is the only one that will help me... endure the other truths. It will enable me to forgive if I have been betrayed—even by someone dear to me. This does not mean I will suffer any less. Far from it! But I will acknowledge that, in light of Divine perfection—and His forgiving Grace toward me, who betrayed Him and nailed Him to the cross with my selfishness, my half-truths, my outbursts of temper, and the sins lurking deep within my heart (“whoever says to his brother, ‘You fool!’ or ‘You madman!’—it is as if he had killed him; whoever looks at a woman with lust has already committed adultery with her in his heart”)—... I will recognize all of this and choose to forgive. It is essential. I cannot do otherwise: “...And forgive us our trespasses, just as (because) we also forgive those who trespass against us...”
He is the Truth that will enable me to forgive and to survive ALL the other... truths. He is the only One who can do this. And if I, in turn, become guilty of other... truths toward my fellow human beings... may I also be able to ask them for forgiveness.

The Psalmist writes (Psalm 96:13) that God will judge the world in righteousness, and the nations in justice/truth—some translations say that He will judge them “according to truth” – because in the original ancient Hebrew, righteousness and truth are the same word.
The Psalmist prophesied, without knowing it, that God would entrust the final judgment to the Son—to the Truth: “The Father judges no one, but has committed all judgment to the Son.” (John 5:22). This is confirmed by the Book of Revelation—the Revelation of Jesus Christ: the Lamb who was violently slain (slaughtered) is the One who judges. He, who gave Himself as an eternal sacrifice, enables me to stand complete before Him—through His sacrifice, His obedience, and His righteousness.
One of the few conditions—if indeed it can be called a condition for salvation—is... to forgive... the realities through which those around me have caused me sorrow, loss, or injury. The undeniable truths—as in the story of old Joseph—which, in any other context, would destroy me.