Recently, as Deacon Greydanus has pointed out, there has been a discussion about “order amoris” and the second commandment of Jesus to love one’s neighbor as one loves oneself.
There is always a tension in those loves.
Our Lord asked rightly: “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?”
He asked us to see things differently.
He also said, “Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.”
I could be wrong but I think he is here talking about the hungry, the thirsty, just about anyone.
Even more strongly, he informs us about the love of neighbor in the person of the Good Samaritan. He comes across a stranger who is severely beaten and without anything. Someone clearly who he does not know.
Maybe some of us, most of us, any of us, need to be touched twice (even more) to see clearly.
I am very grateful for his charity and kind words.
I wish I had thought to add “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?” to the thought experiment about my father and a stranger in need, Gabriel. Thanks for that connection.
The Samaritan saw not only a stranger, but a potential enemy. That’s important. I love the observation about this parable from Martin Luther King, Jr. in his “Mountaintop” speech, given the day before his assassination:
“The first question that the priest asked, the first question that the Levite asked, was, ‘If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?’ But then the Good Samaritan came by. And he reversed the question: ‘If I do *not* stop to help this man, what will happen to *him*?’”
That is the reversal of perspective to which radical conversion calls us.
I really appreciate the insight about that the Samaritan saw a potential enemy.
The aspect that is often missed when we use the word “love” (a wonderful word in and of itself) is what I or we receive, rather than what we or I do for others. This is why I appreciate the word charity, which is often connected to actions that are done for others. MLK, Jr.’s perspective on this aspect is truly beneficial.
The homily I heard today focused heavily on forgiveness, the radical forgiveness that Christ calls us to, that which actually heals the one who forgives, setting him free from the prison of hate towards his wrongdoer. It was a very good homily, but I kept wondering how justice played a role. I thought of how this call to forgiveness is used to silence people abused by others. I’m greatly struggling to reconcile how one is both to forgive/love their offender while justice is still need to be met. How can a rape survivor’s suffering be validated without vengeance becoming the goal?
Great question. Great question. I felt very conflicted about not going into questions like that, but the structure of this homily didn’t allow it.
I touched on similar themes, briefly, in another homily one time:
“What about unhappy families or unhealthy relationships with people whose behavior is harmful to others or to themselves? That can be trickier. Mercy doesn’t mean that there are no consequences. Forgiveness doesn’t mean that if someone wrongs or betrays us again and again, we go on trusting them. Sometimes mercy can mean not letting someone hurt you anymore. Sometimes in the long run the most merciful choice we can make is letting the consequences of people’s actions play out.”
But that homily was titled “Without mercy, there is no justice.” At some point I need to write a homily titled “Without justice, there is no mercy.”
Right, there is only so much time for a homily. I appreciate those words from the other homily; I will try to remember the last sentence.
What I heard today also included a story about a woman whose son was killed by a drunk driver, I believe (I was distracted by my anxiety about justice, haha). She became a speaker, giving talks across the country about… something related to the tragedy (I guess I was very lost in my thoughts). She realized that something was missing in her talks: forgiveness. Eventually she visited the driver in prison, forgave him, and lobbied for his prison time to be lessened. When he was released, he and she traveled the country together, speaking about how sorrowful he was for his irresponsible actions and about the healing power of her forgiveness.
This was a very striking story! I bring it up because, in this example, both justice and mercy are at work! He still had to serve his time for his crime, but it was lessened because of her mercy. So I guess it is possible.
However, for the situations that you mention in your older homily, those which may not be criminal, I’m not seeing how justice and mercy would co-exist…. other than setting up personal boundaries as much as possible. (This reminds me of something one of my high school teachers said once: “You have to love everyone, but it doesn’t mean you have to like them.” I thought that sounded kind of cold-hearted, but now maybe I understand it.)
Recently, as Deacon Greydanus has pointed out, there has been a discussion about “order amoris” and the second commandment of Jesus to love one’s neighbor as one loves oneself.
There is always a tension in those loves.
Our Lord asked rightly: “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?”
He asked us to see things differently.
He also said, “Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.”
I could be wrong but I think he is here talking about the hungry, the thirsty, just about anyone.
Even more strongly, he informs us about the love of neighbor in the person of the Good Samaritan. He comes across a stranger who is severely beaten and without anything. Someone clearly who he does not know.
Maybe some of us, most of us, any of us, need to be touched twice (even more) to see clearly.
I am very grateful for his charity and kind words.
I wish I had thought to add “Who is my mother? Who are my brothers?” to the thought experiment about my father and a stranger in need, Gabriel. Thanks for that connection.
The Samaritan saw not only a stranger, but a potential enemy. That’s important. I love the observation about this parable from Martin Luther King, Jr. in his “Mountaintop” speech, given the day before his assassination:
“The first question that the priest asked, the first question that the Levite asked, was, ‘If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?’ But then the Good Samaritan came by. And he reversed the question: ‘If I do *not* stop to help this man, what will happen to *him*?’”
That is the reversal of perspective to which radical conversion calls us.
I really appreciate the insight about that the Samaritan saw a potential enemy.
The aspect that is often missed when we use the word “love” (a wonderful word in and of itself) is what I or we receive, rather than what we or I do for others. This is why I appreciate the word charity, which is often connected to actions that are done for others. MLK, Jr.’s perspective on this aspect is truly beneficial.
Thank you, Deacon Greydanus.
The homily I heard today focused heavily on forgiveness, the radical forgiveness that Christ calls us to, that which actually heals the one who forgives, setting him free from the prison of hate towards his wrongdoer. It was a very good homily, but I kept wondering how justice played a role. I thought of how this call to forgiveness is used to silence people abused by others. I’m greatly struggling to reconcile how one is both to forgive/love their offender while justice is still need to be met. How can a rape survivor’s suffering be validated without vengeance becoming the goal?
Great question. Great question. I felt very conflicted about not going into questions like that, but the structure of this homily didn’t allow it.
I touched on similar themes, briefly, in another homily one time:
“What about unhappy families or unhealthy relationships with people whose behavior is harmful to others or to themselves? That can be trickier. Mercy doesn’t mean that there are no consequences. Forgiveness doesn’t mean that if someone wrongs or betrays us again and again, we go on trusting them. Sometimes mercy can mean not letting someone hurt you anymore. Sometimes in the long run the most merciful choice we can make is letting the consequences of people’s actions play out.”
But that homily was titled “Without mercy, there is no justice.” At some point I need to write a homily titled “Without justice, there is no mercy.”
Right, there is only so much time for a homily. I appreciate those words from the other homily; I will try to remember the last sentence.
What I heard today also included a story about a woman whose son was killed by a drunk driver, I believe (I was distracted by my anxiety about justice, haha). She became a speaker, giving talks across the country about… something related to the tragedy (I guess I was very lost in my thoughts). She realized that something was missing in her talks: forgiveness. Eventually she visited the driver in prison, forgave him, and lobbied for his prison time to be lessened. When he was released, he and she traveled the country together, speaking about how sorrowful he was for his irresponsible actions and about the healing power of her forgiveness.
This was a very striking story! I bring it up because, in this example, both justice and mercy are at work! He still had to serve his time for his crime, but it was lessened because of her mercy. So I guess it is possible.
However, for the situations that you mention in your older homily, those which may not be criminal, I’m not seeing how justice and mercy would co-exist…. other than setting up personal boundaries as much as possible. (This reminds me of something one of my high school teachers said once: “You have to love everyone, but it doesn’t mean you have to like them.” I thought that sounded kind of cold-hearted, but now maybe I understand it.)
Please do write that homily, it’s so necessary in these troubled times. Justice, and respect for justice, are sorely lacking everywhere we look.