IN EXILE
By Father Ron Rolheiser, OMI
It is becoming ever more acceptable today, whether in politics or in general discourse, to speak of brute human strength, force, and power as being the forces we need to guide our lives. Indeed, empathy is now sometimes named explicitly as a weakness.

It is one thing for people to say that strength, force, and power are in fact what govern the world, but it is dangerously wrong to try to throw a Christian cloak over this. In brief, this is the antithesis of Jesus, as the Gospels make clear.

Here’s how the Gospels define strength and weakness.

For centuries the chosen people, feeling oppressed, longed and prayed for a Messiah from God who would come brandishing intimidating muscle, would vanquish their enemies, bring them prosperity, and bind them together in community by a strength, force and power that was superhuman. But that’s not what they got.

Against every one of their expectations, when their hopes and prayers were finally answered, their longed-for Messiah appeared, not as a superhuman, but as a helpless baby unable to feed himself, helpless to nurture himself into adulthood.

Granted, as an adult he performed miracles and sometimes displayed a strength and power that was supernatural. However, the power he displayed in his miracles was never political, militaristic, or physically intimidating. His miracles were always displays of God’s compassion and fidelity.

There’s an interesting play of words in the Gospels when they speak of “power” or “authority”. They use three different Greek words: Sometimes they refer to power as Energia – the type of power a star athlete can bring to a playing field; and sometimes power is referred to as Dynamis – the type of power a rock star can bring to a stage. However, whenever the Gospels refer to Jesus as powerful or as having authority, they never use these words. Instead, they use the word Exousia (for which we have no English equivalent), though we do have a concept of it.

Exousia is the paradoxical power a baby brings into a room. On the surface, it looks like powerlessness, but ultimately it’s the greatest power of all – vulnerability, the moral power to create intimacy.
Simply put, if you put three people into a room: an athlete in the prime of his physical prowess, a rock star who can electrify a stadium with energy, and a baby. Who ultimately has the most power? Jesus answers that.

We see this clearly in the manner of his death. As he hangs on the cross, suffering and humiliated, he is being taunted, if you are the son of God, come down off that cross! If you have divine power, show it! Jesus doesn’t take the bait. Instead of demonstrating the kind of power we like to believe God should be using, Jesus instead resorts to another power, a higher one. In his powerlessness, he gives over his spirit in love and empathy and, in that, shows us the place where intimacy is born.

Moreover, Jesus could not be clearer in his teaching. As he makes clear in the Sermon on the Mount (perhaps the greatest moral code ever written) human strength, force, and power are not what bring about the kingdom. What creates community and intimacy among us?

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.
Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. (Matthew 5:3-11)

Unfortunately, today in our politics and in our civil discourse (which sadly often lacks civility) people are increasingly putting their faith in brute human power – political power, economic power, military power, social media power, historical privilege. These, as many politicians now claim, are what’s real. They decide things in the world. It’s the strong, the powerful, and the rich who will inherit the good things of this earth. Those who are poor in spirit, who mourn, who are meek, who are merciful, and who are persecuted, will miss out on life. And, undergirding this is the belief that empathy is a weakness.

What’s to be said in the face of this? What should be the Christian response?

Since the beginning of human life on this planet, brute strength and power have always made themselves felt and have often been a dominant force in shaping history. The meek haven’t always inherited the earth (at least not this earth). And today the meek are being threatened from all sides.

However, whatever its political or economic expediency, this kind of raw strength and power may not cloak itself with Jesus and the Gospels. It is the antithesis of Jesus and the Gospels.

(Oblate Father Ron Rolheiser is a professor of spirituality at Oblate School of Theology and award-winning author.)

KNEADING FAITH
By Dr. Fran Lavelle, D. Min
Our nephew works offshore on an oil rig. When he is back in Starkville visiting his folks, I often invite him to have dinner with us. My husband and our nephew have common interests, from music to healthy eating to farming. On a recent visit, we were having a conversation about how people get labeled with pejorative monikers that often have lasting negative impacts, sometimes even demonizing a whole culture or race. He travels internationally work and encounters people from many cultures and races. We talked about how our prejudices are dismantled when we actually encounter people who are different from ourselves.

This kind of labeling or name-calling is meant to diminish the value of the other. It often elevates the sense of self-worth in the name-caller. Terms like lazy, crazy, radical or stupid make it easier to dismiss the person or persons. As children, we are taught that name-calling is unkind and hurtful. I remember growing up in our family, and pejorative terms used about another person were met with immediate consequences. This line in the sand was drawn from my mother’s own experience as a child.

My mother went to Catholic school in her small southeastern Ohio town and remembers Catholic children being taunted by public school kids passing by on the bus. She was called names like “Cat Licker” (right? Where did that come from?). She vividly remembers her closest friend, who was African American, being especially harassed for being Black and Catholic in a place where Black Catholics were part of a super-minority.

We all can recall memories of when we were the object of someone else’s name-calling. Too fat, too thin, not smart, ugly, not enough, too much – the list goes on. My mom and her friend grew beyond those remarks, but the underlying need for the use of such name-calling has remained.

Proverbs 19:11 tells us, “Good sense makes one slow to anger, and it is his glory to overlook an offense.” We are called, therefore, to fight the urge to respond in kind. After all, provocateurs thrive on reaction and love when arguments are escalated. Look at our culture of keyboard warriors. The time lapse between an insult and an inferno is measured in nanoseconds. We have become a people quick to judge, label, diminish and dismiss.

Sadly, there are those in the Catholic world who use their platform to add to the nastiness. The dualism that dominates our culture and our conduct is killing us – literally. I remind myself often, and speak it gently to the world, that if we believe in the dignity of the human person, that dignity extends to all people, not just the ones with whom we align our political, religious or other beliefs. As Catholics, we are called to a higher standard. Colossians 3:7-8 reminds us, “You used to do these things when your life was still part of this world. But now is the time to get rid of anger, rage, malicious behavior, slander and dirty language.”

Years ago, I quit smoking for Lent. What I learned was that nicotine leaves the body in three days. After that, the real challenge – breaking the habit. One must train the mind to do something else instead of smoking. I took up cross-stitching. It gave my hands something to do in the evening, when I was most apt to smoke.

The same can be said for changing how we respond on social media. Look, my nature tends to look for the best in a situation, but I am also a realist. People who cannot break the habit of name-calling and dismissive behavior are often living out of their own insecurities and brokenness. One must first be aware of their behavior. I am not suggesting that you muzzle your First Amendment rights, but rather ask yourself: Are you adding to a positive discourse, or are you adding to the vitriol?

Perhaps we would all be well served if we applied this acronym attributed to Dr. Ed Young. He suggests we T.H.I.N.K. before we speak, asking ourselves if what we have to say is: true, helpful, inspiring, necessary and kind.

Lent is a great time to put into practice the wisdom of our nephew – prejudices are dismantled when we have an encounter with people who are different from ourselves. So perhaps instead of firing off a divisive response to a social media post of a friend, go out for a cup of coffee. And if all else fails, remember the Golden Rule: “Do to others as you would have them do to you” (Luke 6:31). A more peace-filled and blessed Lent awaits.

(Dr. Fran Lavelle is the director of faith formation for the Diocese of Jackson.)

FROM THE HERMITAGE
By sister alies therese
One pair of brand-new white socks. You might have received a pair last year about this time, but none since, and the ones you get weekly from the laundry are not necessarily yours. You sit in a prison cell, perhaps on death row. Consider how you feel when you slip those socks on – clean, unworn by anyone else, just for you. You are not sure whom to thank, but the chaplains are a good place to start. What you do know is that you received them through an act of kindness – kindness from people you do not know, people who are concerned for your welfare, people who follow Jesus, the rescuer and explorer.

“Anyone who is kind wants to know when people have been made happy. They care for that more than for being thanked,” writes Frances Hodgson Burnett in The Little Princess. Happy, no matter where you reside, is a blessing.

Or maybe you received some writing paper, an adult coloring book, hard candy or a hygiene product. Perhaps you also received a Christmas card, peanut butter crackers or a new toothbrush and toothpaste. A puzzle book, a new ballpoint pen or some crayons. The point is obvious – when you receive these few items allowed by Parchman prison, especially for death row and maximum-security prisoners, you are one of the fellows welling up with gratitude.

Kindness seems a small thing, and it is when many of us take things for granted; we miss its deep gift. “Kindness must be the highest virtue; don’t let me forget that ever,” writes Joan Blos in A Gathering of Days.

I find in the Psalms – 47 and counting – the call to kindness, the description of kindness, and the God who is kindness. For example, Psalm 103:4, 17 tells us: “God redeems your life from destruction, crowning you with kindness and compassion; the kindness of the Lord is from eternity to eternity toward those who fear him.” (See also Psalm 89.)

Kindness is God’s essential character, and in Hebrew the word is hesed. You might be surprised to learn it has many meanings: loving devotion, mercy, goodness, generosity, loyalty, favor and love. When you do a kind act, you may not think much about all that – just “git ’er done,” because it is the right thing to do. Yet there is much deeper meaning, and I hope in this new year you will want to know more.

Hesed also means dependable, faithful, sacrificial love – no matter the circumstances – and unwavering reliability. Here is the key: It is an active commitment, not just an emotional sentiment. We find this lived out throughout Scripture – in Exodus, Ruth, Hosea and Micah – where we discover the covenant God has made with us, his people.

When you have a covenant, such as marriage, you are in a constant relationship. This means the promises are not spontaneous feelings but deliberate actions taken to maintain the bond. Kindness means taking gracious action, built on the faithful and enduring actions of a loving God. We experience God as rescuer, bringing us relief and revealing his divine compassion. The parishioners of the tiny parish who collect these items each Advent know the joy of gracious action. What else does it look like?

St. Mother Teresa wrote in Something Beautiful for God: “Be kind and merciful. Let no one ever come to you without coming away better and happier. Be the living expression of God’s kindness: kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile, kindness in your warm greeting.”

Another aspect is one St. Paul points out to the Romans: “Do you not know that God’s kindness is an invitation to you to repent? Despite this, your hard heart and impenitent heart is storing up retribution on the day of wrath when the just judgment of God will be reveled, when He will repay everyone for what they have done: and immortality by eternal life for those whom strive for glory, honor, patiently doing right; wrath and fury to those who selfishly disobey the truth and obey wickedness.” (Romans 2:4ff NAB)

In this new year, full of opportunities for random acts of kindness – paying it forward and sacrificing for people you might not even know – I pray to learn. God keeps his promises. Will I?

“A man was lost in the desert. Later, when describing his ordeal to friends, he told how, in sheer despair, he had knelt down and cried out to God to rescue him.

‘And did God answer your prayer?’ they asked.

‘Oh no! Before he could, an explorer – a rescuer – appeared and showed me the way,’” writes Anthony de Mello in The Prayer of the Frog (1992).

We know that rescuer is Jesus. What great kindness. Let us do the same for one another.

Blessings.

(sister alies therese is a canonical hermit who prays and writes.)