“AN EYE FOR AN EYE” DOESN’T WORK

As human beings there seems to be something deep inside us that wants to redress any harm done to us by another that we believe to be unjust and certainly unmerited. We want to get even. And sometimes we want to go the other one better. An eye for an eye in that instance is not enough so angry are we at what has happened to us and with the one who perpetrated that evil.

The fact that this need to get even, to pay back, seems to be inherently human does not mean that it is morally all right to satisfy that need. Furthermore, just because there is a felt need does not mean that we are justified to actually respond to that need in some observable and actual manner. Civil laws, of course, are based on society’s need to redress affronts to society. We make laws to keep society orderly. When that order is broken, society sets up a system of punishments to redress the harm done and society is justified in doing so – for the good and good ordering of that society.

The real issue and the real problem at hand is that the harm done cannot be undone no matter what the punishment meted out may be. It is a done deal. The crime has been committed, the harm done. What causes society to want revenge and to actually take revenge and what causes so much angst is that the threat of punishment was no deterrent. The perpetrator was intent on doing what he knew was unlawful, would be punishable if caught, but broke the law anyway. Is it any wonder that society wants an eye for an eye, and sometimes even more?

And is it any wonder that we, even as Christians, desire the same? No sin, no affront, is accidental. It is deliberate. True accidents can and should be forgiven if they were truly accidents and not the result of foolishly doing what we knew we should not be doing in the first place. Deliberately and knowingly driving under the influence of alcohol, for instance, and causing an accident is inexcusable. As humans, let alone as Christians, we demand some form of punishment.

And yet there is that nagging feeling inside us that says there has to be a better way. A simple forgiveness of a deliberate hurt should be transforming. It should give the one forgiven pause so that he will take time to reflect on what he did, decide not to do it again and apologize for the harm done even though, regrettably, that harm cannot be undone so that no apology would even be necessary. We also know from experience that repaying in kind for the harm done does not change the person who hurt us and certainly does not change us. It only makes matters worse, meaning that the hurt inflicted next time – and there will be a next time – will only be worse.

As Christians we must be agents of transformation not by repaying evil for evil, sin for sin, an eye for an eye, but by doing what we can to lessen our own need to get even and trust that forgiveness without revenge will help transform the one forgiven and make us stronger in the process. In truth, we know that this is true. When, in the past, we have forgiven another or been forgiven, we have been an agent of transformation and we have been transformed in the process. Would that this always be the case.

EMPATHY

It is not easy to walk in another person’s shoes. In fact, we cannot even as that old Indian admonition tells us that we must walk in another’s moccasins if we want to understand that person, understand what he or she is going through at this moment in time. When we care about someone who is suffering, it is much easier to sympathize with that person rather than empathize.

In a way it is also safer. We sympathize from a distance. Empathy demands a hands-on response. We have to be there with the other who is going through a difficult and, usually, a painful time. That is what makes being empathetic so hard. It involves, demands, our deliberately entering into a painful situation when every fiber of our being tells us to run away as fast as we can. Only fools, our inner selves tell us, bring on pain and suffering willingly.

St. Paul calls this being fools for Christ’s sake, for the sake of those Jesus loves, namely, everyone. We are not Jesus, of course, and we cannot love everyone. We can only hope to love and empathize with those we do love and care about. It takes the grace of God, sometimes, to almost force ourselves into those situations where we must suffer along with the one we love in order to help that person deal with his or her suffering.

Empathy, of course, does not mean that we suffer physically with the one we love. It does mean that when we say “I feel your pain,” we actually do feel pain, that there is an inner hurt that we cannot really describe or define or even number – “Is it a three or a seven?” It is simply there and we hurt because someone we love is hurting or because of the vagaries of life in this world.

Life is complex and that is putting it mildly.  And while we may wish life’s issues were black and white, either good or bad, we know they are not. When they are not, when there is no right answer to a problem, no logical reason why this person is suffering and that person is not, why, for instance, in battle one soldier is killed and the one next to him survives – when we find ourselves in such confusing and complex situations, we suffer with the one grieving and in pain while at the same time being thankful we have been spared.

And sometimes the knowledge that we have been spared is often more painful than had we been the one to suffer in the first place. Much of the post-traumatic stress from war comes from having escaped that which your buddies in battle did not. “Why them and not me?” is empathy to the nth degree. Added to that is the empathetic pain we suffer when we deal with the question of why any of this is so, why we have to suffer in the first place and, even more, why we inflict pain and suffering in others.

What all this means, I think, is that empathy often means having to live with unanswered and even unanswerable questions and suffer the pain that comes with no recourse other than to know that we are not alone and that empathy is demanded not only if we are to be human but also if we are to make it through this life with some sense of sanity.

MORE THAN SKIN DEEP

Rachel Joyce in her novel The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry tells the story of a retired gentleman who goes on both an unlikely and unintended pilgrimage. Harold Fry receives a letter from a former colleague who tells him that she is dying of cancer. He writes her a letter to cheer her up and promises to come see her, encouraging her to hang on until he gets there hoping that his visit will somehow lift her spirits and perhaps even reverse the cancer.

Harold writes the letter, places it an envelope, puts a stamp on the envelope and heads to the mailbox to send it on its way. When Harold arrives at the mailbox, instead of depositing the letter, he keeps on walking, eventually all the way to the nursing home where she resides – 500 miles away.

Harold has no change of clothes and his yachting shoes are not made for such excursions, certainly not 500 miles worth. He has no cell phone, indispensable these days, and little cash; but he does have a credit card which he uses to find lodging along the way when he can’t sleep under trees and pay for food to keep up his strength for the journey. The only problem is that he knows the money he is spending (wasting? he wonders) is depleting the retirement funds he and his wife are counting on to see them through the rest of their lives.

No one knows about Harold’s adventure in the beginning, not even his wife. But eventually word gets out and he begins to attract hangers-on who make part of the journey with him. He also attracts the attention of the press, print and video. He becomes a curiosity piece to many. But he also becomes somewhat of a folk hero as well. Joyce writes: “They believed in him. They looked at his yachting shoes, and listened to what he said, and they made a decision in their hearts and minds to ignore the evidence and to imagine something bigger and something infinitely more beautiful than the obvious.”

What people, at least some people, began to see in Harold went much further than skin deep. They saw what was not visibly obvious to those who see no further than their own noses, as it were. Those who saw with different eyes were able to look beyond the outward appearances and into the depths of this man, this pilgrim, and see so much more. And they knew deep in their hearts that if there were so much more to Harold Fry, then there was so much more to the one who looked back at them every morning in the bathroom mirror. And that gave them hope.

In many ways in his own unacknowledged awareness Harold Fry was a Christ figure. Jesus was constantly reminding those who could not see in themselves what he saw in them: they were good people, people loved by God even though society thought them to be losers, sinners, foolish, whatever. Jesus always looked beyond the surface, beyond the outer appearances, beyond the skin, deep into the person him- or herself. So must we.

We need to see in ourselves and see in others what Jesus sees no matter what the outward appearances may be: a child of God, beloved of God.

 

IT’S NOT DIRECTED TOWARD ME

Church attendance is down all over the world. That is obvious, the megachurches notwithstanding whose members exit the back door as quickly as they enter the front.  There are, no doubt, many reasons for this, much of it the fault of the church itself. Perhaps it is cyclical. Perhaps we are in one of those downturns in the outward observance of religious practices. Perhaps we are awaiting the next Great Awakening to revive church life. Perhaps. Only time will tell.

In the meantime it is always good to explore why less and less people are attending church, especially in the West, the “sophisticated and educated” part of the world. Are we in the West so wise not to be so foolish to think that organized religion is all that important in our daily lives? Have we not found meaning and fulfillment outside the church structure and found guidance for our lives outside of church dogma? Many seem to think so.

Many people these days, according to the poll-takers, claim that while they are not religious, meaning they do not belong to or attend a church, assert that they are indeed spiritual people: spiritual but not religious. Perhaps they are. They claim to get more out of sitting on a bank of a creek soaking in all of God’s creation than they do going to a worship service at some church. They assert that a quiet Sunday at home, reading the paper, drinking a latte they hurried down to the nearest Starbucks to purchase, conversing with their spouse is more fulfilling than formal worship. Besides, they say, “I don’t get anything out of worship.”

They are probably right. To get something out of worship we have to put something in to it. And what we have to put into worship is ourselves. Even more, and the main point of all this, is that worship is not directed toward the worshipper. It is directed to the one we gather to worship in the first place: God. We come to church to worship God, not to be entertained, not to be calmed by the rippling sounds of the creek or the soothing taste of that latte in our hands. Worship was never meant to be entertaining or even soothing.

We call our worship service liturgy. The root meaning of that word in Greek is “public service”. In other words, it means work. Liturgy is truly the work of the people. Worship is to be work, our work of worshipping our God. In fact, when we have concluded our worship, we should be tired, even exhausted because we have put so much of ourselves into that service. Worship is not so much about getting something out of what we are doing as it is about putting all of ourselves into what we are doing. It is indeed work.

It is easy to be spiritual. It is a walk in the park, literally and figuratively. Being spiritual is centering on the self and is all about oneself. It is directed inward. It is difficult, hard work, to be religious, to do what is necessary to be the person God created us to be. Why? Because being religious means being centered outside ourselves: on God and on others. That does not mean that one cannot be religious and spiritual at the same time. In fact, when we are living out our faith, when we are worshipping our God, it is indeed, in word and in deed, a deeply religious and spiritual experience.

QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS

Frank, or maybe it’s Ernest, I’m not sure who is who, is reading the newspaper (in the Frank & Ernest comic strip by Bob Thaves), asks, “What concerns you more about politicians, unanswered questions or unquestioned answers?” Lest anyone’s hackles get aroused, let us all admit that while politicians are experts at both not answering specific questions with specific answers and insisting their answers to specific questions be unquestioned, so are we all.

We citizens are even more guilty when we demand of our politicians, our elected leaders, that they give us a simple and short answer to a very difficult and convoluted issue. We want answers and we want answers now and we want the answer to be as least painful to us individually as possible, no pain being the preferred choice. We know in our heads that that is impossible, but that is what we would like and what we want to hear.

There are no simple, easy answers to the many and varied questions, issues, that confront us as a nation, as a world, as a church, even as individual people. What is even more difficult to deal with is that there will always be more questions than answers and that when we have resolved this question, this issue, another will follow right on its heels and probably be even more difficult.

That said, the point of Thaves’ strip is still valid. No one has all the answers: not the President, not the Pope, not you or me. Further, just because we may be in a position of power does not give us the right to believe our answer should go unquestioned or that our response of “because I said so” is sufficient.  Ignoring the question only makes the matter worse because it won’t go away and make it even more difficult to resolve.

And no one answer is the answer. This world, this life, is too complicated for simple, easy, uncomplicated solutions to complex issues. We know that. We know that in our own lives. Personal issues are almost always very complex and cannot be resolved with simple answers. Why? Because more than one person is usually involved in the problem and its resolution. The more people involved, the more complicated and the more difficult the resolution.

And even when the only person involved is our self, when the issue at hand is very and strictly personal, even then the correct response, while simply given, is hardly ever easy to fulfill. The problem of being overweight is simple: eat less. The problem of over-spending is to spend less. The problem of being unkind all too often is to change our ways. The problem can be simply stated and the resolution simply given, but that does not mean it will be easy for us to actually resolve the problem.

The further issue is that we are often our own worst enemy. We do not like to admit that we are both part of the problem and we are also part of the solution, whatever the problem. While we can blame and castigate our politicians for acting like the politicians Frank and Ernest think them to be, all too often in our personal lives in many ways we are they.

PSALM 23

A friend of mine sent me a reflection on Psalm 23, the King James Version (the one, it seems, that is most popular even though its language is somewhat dated). In the reflection, each line in the psalm has a one-word explanation, if you will, of what that line really means for us who pray the psalm and believe and mean what we are saying when we do use it in personal prayer: thus, the words of the psalm, their one-word meaning and, for what it’s worth, my reflection on that word.

The Lord is my shepherd: that’s relationship. (Without a relationship with God life would be meaningless and empty.)  I shall not want: that’s supply. (God gives us all that we need.)

He maketh me lie die in green pastures: that’s rest. (is vital to a whole and healthy life. We must take those times of rest to rest.)  He leadeth me beside still waters: that’s refreshement. (While we rest, we are refreshed.)

He restoreth my soul; that’s healing. (We are all wounded, wounded by our own sin and by the sins of others. We are all healed because God always forgives.)

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness: that’s guidance. (Whenever we get lost, and we all do at times, if we are open to God’s leading, we will find our way.) For his name’s sake: that’s purpose. (Why we do what we do: we do it for you, Lord.)

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death:  that’s testing. (Testing is part of life, part of being human. We are all tempted: no exemptions.)  I will fear no evil:  that’s protection. (God is stronger than any evil. Never forget that.)  For thou art with me:  that’s faithfulness. (God never, ever abandons us. Never.)

Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me: that’s discipline. (We learn through discipline, from the pain our mistakes, deliberate and otherwise, cause. That is good.)

Thou preparest a table for me in the presence of mine enemies: that’s hope. (When, at times, all may seem lost, we know it is not. We will find our way. God will see to it.)

Thou annointest my head with oil: that’s consecration. (We are God’s children.)

My cup runneth over:  that’s abundance. (We always have more than enough.)

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:  that’s blessing. (We are never alone. We never walk alone. God is always with us.)

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord: that’s security. (Our house is the Lord’s house. The Lord’s house is our house, our home.)

Forever: that’s eternity. (No more need be said.)

FAITH AND DOUBT

We are a people of faith. We are also a people filled with doubts about that faith. The doubter never expects to receive anything because the doubter doubts that anything he desires will be his. His life is one of negativity. The person of faith, on the other hand, expects his desires to be filled even though he knows that not all of them will be. His life is one of positivity.

There is a further difference. The doubter wants his will to be done but believes it will not be done because his faith is not what it should be. The person of faith wants God’s will to be done even as she prays that her will becomes God’s will and even as she knows that her faith is not all that it could be. The person of faith can live with her personal desires unfulfilled because she knows God knows what is best for her. The doubter lives with the belief that his desires will be unfulfilled because he doesn’t know if God really cares about him.

We all have doubts, of course. Such is the nature of faith. Faith is never knowledge and, thus, never certain. We may live in sure and certain hope but not in sure and certain faith. We are always growing in faith, little by little, each day. We certainly hope so, do we not?

That growth is usually imperceptible but it is real and can only be realized over time when looking back. I know my faith is stronger today than it was five years ago and maybe stronger than it was five days ago. But I can recognize the growth over five years but not over five days.

Yet, because of the nature of faith, certainly the nature of my faith, and, I suspect, yours, there is always that nagging doubt that hovers around the fringes. It kicks in often when we least except it, asking us if we truly believe what we say we believe, if we truly trust in this God whom we say we trust. It does not shake our faith; it simply gives it a little prick, but one that is felt.

When we think about it, doubt is good, is a good. It reminds us that even if we have a very strong, a sure and certain faith, we cannot take it for granted. We must always examine it, try to understand it, grow in it. When those trials of any kind arise, we know we should rejoice because they are an occasion to put our faith to the test, to put it to work. When we have passed through the fire, singed perhaps, but still safe, we can look back and see how our faith got us through and how it grew in the process.

That is not to say that we look for occasions to be tried and tested. We are not that foolish. But we are wise enough to know that they will come our way, especially when we least expect them to. We need to be ready and wise at all times.

Even more importantly, we need to be thankful for that gift of faith and, even more, for the times that faith is put to the test because that faith gives us the confidence that knows God will see us through.