It
is all too easy to stick to the attitude that might is right. In
contrast, mercy usually seems like weakness, a foolish abandonment of
the tough and resolute course of action I typically want to pursue. I
think we all experience it. Someone hurts someone else, so surely that
person should be made to suffer in return. A neighbor insults me, so I
insult her right back. Or perhaps I even go so far as to spread that
delicious little piece of info about her that I know will ruin her
reputation.
The prevailing notion that usually seems to rule the day is this: I can't really be up unless someone else is down.
I routinely live my life in a way that seems to assume that the true
measure of happiness, peace, and order in life is determined by the
sheer force of will (mine over someone else's). Through sin I gradually
become the center of my own little universe and, if I keep heading down
that road, I might actually begin to believe my own fantasy.
But
here's the funny and almost scandalous truth about all of this when
viewed through God's eyes - it's completely upside down! God comes to
the earth to save everyone from sin and death. But how does he do it?
Does God carry out this ultimate mission in a tough, forceful, and
mighty way? No. He is born. He is delivered like any other
regular, weak, completely dependent human child. He wails, he cries, and
he allows himself to actually experience need. He needs the
warmth of swaddling clothes and his mother's milk to survive. He lives
by the love of others. The God of the universe chooses to place his own
human life into the hands of a poor Galilean carpenter and his young
wife.
Why in the world does God do this? To show that true
power is found precisely in mercy and love, not fury and coercion. It
is mercy and love that reign supreme. Love is not love at all when it's
coerced, when it's forced upon another. Genuine peace, what Augustine
called "tranquility of order," cannot exist where there is no love. In
an atmosphere of hatred, revenge, and one-upmanship, love cannot breathe
and it soon dies out. Most of what we think evinces true power is
usually, in fact, a flash in the pan, a quick fix, a tree with no roots.
When it's all said and done, earthly power always exhausts itself and
the one who insists upon grasping it is never satisfied. Love and mercy
alone satisfy the human heart.
Monday, December 22, 2014
Wednesday, December 3, 2014
Advent - "Presence & Arrival"
“Advent”—what does this mean? “Advent” is a Latin word that can be rendered in English as “presence, arrival”. In the language of the ancient world it was a technical term expressing the arrival of an official, especially the arrival of kings or emperors in the provinces. It could, however, equally denote the arrival of the deity who appears out of concealment and powerfully manifests his presence or whose presence was celebrated in cultic ritual. The Christians adopted this term to proclaim their special relationship to Jesus Christ. For them, he is the King who entered this wretched province, our world, and gifted it with the feast of his visit. He it is whose presence in the liturgical assembly they profess. With this expression they intended to say, in general, “God is here.” He has not abandoned this world. He has not left us behind alone. Even though we cannot see and touch him like so many things—he is present, nevertheless, and visits us in many ways. Advent is a twofold reminder for us: for one, that God’s presence in the world has already begun, that he, in hidden ways, is already here; and then, that his presence has only just begun and not yet reached completion but still is growing, developing, maturing. His presence has already begun, and we, the believers, are the ones through whom he desires to be present in the world. Through our faith, hope, and love he desires to shine his light ever anew into the night of the world. The lights we kindle during the dark nights of this wintertime are therefore both a consolation and a reminder: the consoling assurance that “the Light of the world” has already appeared in the darkness of the night in Bethlehem and has changed the unholy night of human sin into the holy night of divine forgiveness for this sin.
- Joseph Ratzinger (Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI) in Licht, das uns leuchtet, pp. 12ff.
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