Reflections from the Pulpit: Love in a pandemic

Posted 9/10/21

In his short story, “The Last Leaf,” O. Henry tells of an epidemic of pneumonia that stalked a small village. A community of artists was especially hard it...

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Reflections from the Pulpit: Love in a pandemic

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In his short story, “The Last Leaf,” O. Henry tells of an epidemic of pneumonia that stalked a small village. A community of artists was especially hard it, and one by one people began to fall ill with the highly contagious plague.

Joanna, a young artist, fell sick. “Johnsy,” as her friends called her, grew weaker and weaker. Her fellow artist Sue tried to care for her, but Johnsy seemed to have given up on life. The doctor said, “Unless something can give her the will to live, she doesn’t have one chance in ten.”

Sue tried, to no avail. By now, Johnsy had developed a fixation on the dying vine outside her window. One by one, the cold autumn wind began stripping the dried leaves from the vine, as days moved from autumn to winter. 100 leaves, then 50, then 20, then 5. The wind grew colder, and the leaves fell faster – and as the leaves withered, so did Johnsy.

“Those leaves reflect my life,” she said to Sue. “And when the last leaf falls, so will I.”

Sue was quiet – she knew it could only be a day or two, at most. Heartbroken, she confided in “Old Behrman,” a painter who lived on the ground floor beneath them. Old Behrman had spent 40 years wielding a brush, always meaning to paint a masterpiece, but never able. Now old, with a Michelangelo Moses beard curling down from his slight body, Mr. Behrman considered himself a failure in art. He made a small living painting odds and ends, advertisements and the like. But he was unknown by the world – a heart as big as a house, but reputation and bank account small. Mr. Behrman heard the story of Johnsy’s demise, and shook his head sadly. “Vat is dis foolishness!” he said, “Dat a beautiful girl should vant to pass avay vith da leaves!”

That night, Mr. Behrman knew he had a task. At last, he must paint a masterpiece.

There, alone, seen only by God, he worked in the cold. All night long. On a ladder, in the wind.

The next morning, Johnsy awakened, expecting to see the leaves gone – expecting to depart herself. But to her surprise, one leaf remained! She watched it all day, into the early gloaming, and darkened evening. But still the leaf held.

All that day, and the next – the leaf held! In the cold and wind, another day. And another. Johnsy began to sense something divine in the leaf’s holding. “God must want me to live,” she told Sue.

Day by day, she began to recover.

The day came when the doctor visited and said, “You’re going to make it! But I have another case downstairs – a man named Behrman. He somehow exposed himself and caught the pneumonia. We’re taking him to the hospice where he can be comfortable, but he’s not going to make it.”

Mr. Behrman had given his life to paint the leaf that gave Joanna back her life. At last – his masterpiece! In a human life.

Such is love in a pandemic, friends. In a world that wants to isolate humans between sick or not sick, risky or not risky, vaccinated or unvaccinated, masked or unmasked, pushing people into divided cells and lonely lives – ruled by fear of human contact and fleeing wholesome life – be a person that gives hope and care, treasure and prayer. Paint a leaf for someone today – in your kind smile, your small efforts, your prayers and actions, things perhaps unseen by other humans, but celebrated in heaven! For those who choose love, this is an exciting time to be alive, for love is needed now more than ever. Amen.

reflections, pulpit, the last leaf

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