War and Peace Begins with Us

Fifth Sunday after Pentecost

Pope Pius XII

    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  “Nothing is lost by peace; everything may be lost by war.”  Who do you suppose said this?  Pope Leo XIV?  Pope Francis?  It was Pope Pius XII in 1939, a week before historians say that World War II began.  “It is hardly possible to imagine that in an atomic age era, war could be used as an instrument of justice.”  That was Pope St. John XXIII in his Encyclical, Pacem in Terris.  As we hopefully find ourselves at the end of another war, this time with Iran, and given the readings today, I thought it important to reflect on violence and peace on this fifth Sunday after Pentecost.
    To be fair, declarations of war are the proper authority of governments.  Yet the Church has something to say about war and the moral questions and implications of war.  But today’s homily is not for members of Congress nor for heads of state.  Today’s homily is for you, not so much as a one-sided talking to about whether or not we should have entered into a war (declared or not) in Iran, but what we contribute to war or peace.  
    St. Peter, our first pope, tells us today in the epistle that Christ does not call us to return evil for evil, and that we “must turn from evil and do good, seek peace and follow after it.”  Why?  Because, frankly, we’re bad at meting out just punishment.  It doesn’t mean that we can’t, but we’re not very good at it.  And we see this from a young age.  There you are, a young child, minding your own business, riding in a car with your parents on a beautiful sunny day, maybe even on your way to or coming from church, and your sister decides to push your buttons by poking you in the arm.  Now, you know your parents have told you to use your words, so you tell your sister to stop.  But this only eggs her on all the more, and she keeps poking you.  So you hit her, to show her that she can’t pick on you without repercussions.  But she doesn’t want to look like a weakling, so she pushes you back, until you’re in a full-on car fight and your parents look back and tell you both to cut it out, and your dad says, “If I have to pull this car over…”
    When we respond to perceived wrongs, we tend to give a little more than we got, as a deterrent to the person wronging us.  In our attempt to be just, we tend to go a little beyond justice.  But then the other person feels aggrieved, and has to respond to us, and goes a little beyond what we deserve.  And so the cycle starts and sometimes even goes to a point we never would have imagined.
    St. James asks in his epistle, “Where do the wars and where do the conflicts among you come from?  Is it not from your passions?”  Our Lord knew that we often don’t hit the target of justice and tend to give more punishment than others deserve.  And so, while the Decalogue forbade murdering another (“Thou shalt not kill”), Christ the New Moses teaches us that we have to nip anger in the bud in order to stop unjust force, and change our hearts so that we act from a place of peace, not a place of wrath or vengeance.  

G.K. Chesterton

    “But,” you may say, “what about the Nazis?  Shouldn’t we have fought them?”  Before answering that, if you have to use Nazi’s to justify your argument, you probably haven’t developed your arguments well enough, and simply disagree with the conclusion without having an issue with individual propositions that lead to the conclusion.  But, having said that, the Church does allow, in some limited cases, that war, primarily in self-defense, is necessary.  And this finds its basis in our individual right, and sometimes duty, to defend ourselves and others.  A parent who doesn’t defend their child from violence is a coward, not a virtuous person.  But, again, what is the motivation?  Is it because we really don’t like the aggressor and we’re glad we finally have a reason to knock his lights out?  Or is it because we love our children and don’t want any harm to come to them.  G.K. Chesterton wisely wrote, “The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him.”  The motivation comes not from antagonism towards others, but love of those he or she is bound to protect by some obligation, be it a parent of a child, a law enforcement officer of a community, or a soldier of a nation.  
    When we “give it to them” to prove that we are the victors and the stronger person, we tend to perpetual the cycle of violence.  Even looking at World War II, most historians agree that the ingredients for the rise of the Nazi party came from an overaggressive and punitive response to Germany and Austria in the Treaty of Versailles.  The allies were so hurt by the people and materials lost in World War I, that they allowed vengeance to govern the resumption of peace, rather than trying to truly bring back justice and not going beyond that.  
    In our lives, we have to ask ourselves if we, or probably how we, perpetual a cycle of violence.  Even if I am simply acting only out of anger or animus towards another, I am contributing, even in a very small way, to a mentality that might makes right and violence is the only answer that works.  While we don’t have to make decisions on going to war, we do have to decide how we respond to injustices.  Are we willing, without denying our right to self-defense and defense of others, especially the vulnerable, to seek good rather than evil, peace rather than conflict?  Do my insults and harsh words of others build up the common good, or make others feel victimized so that they have to get back at me?  If every person learns to give better than you get, will the people who get elected to positions of government just carry that over into international relations?  
    God does not call us to be doormats and allow others to victimize us without consequence.  But if we can die to our passions which seek retribution; if we can truly seek the good of the other, even if we have to do so from afar, then we can, in our own small way, promote peace, which comes when people feel they are treated with dignity.  If we wish to stop wars, violence, and hatred, then we cannot simply state that we have not murdered anyone.  As Christ teaches us, we have to first work on eliminating the anger and hatred in our own hearts, and love others as Christ has loved us.  Who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God, for ever and ever.  Amen.   

Revenge

Fifth Sunday after Pentecost
    In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  When I was (I think) in first grade, there were these fifth graders at my parochial school who liked to pick on me.  They weren’t horrible, but they would sometimes just grab on to my arms, which I didn’t like.  One time they were holding my arms on the playground, and I could feel the frustration welling up inside of me, wanting to break free of their grasp, but not having the physical strength to wrest myself away from them, so I did what I could: I bit one of their arms.  They let go, and I was free; at least until a teacher found out and I had to go to the principal’s office, and eventually write an apology letter to them.
    Revenge is a primal urge that we all can have.  We experience some sort of injustice, no matter how big or small, and we want to make it right on our own terms.  The sense that something is not right and should be addressed, which leads to the emotion we call anger, is a sign that we recognize good and evil.  If we didn’t want wrong things to be righted, that would not be a good sign of the state of our soul.
    The problem is that our view of what is truly just is not always accurate, since it is limited by our restricted view of reality (as compared to God’s omniscient view of reality), and our passions for justice often goes beyond what is truly just.  When we respond to someone who has done us wrong, we tend to give them a little more than they gave us, just to make sure that they know not to mess with us again.  It’s like kids in the back of a car, where one looks at the other in a funny way, so then the other pokes the first with a finger, and then the first hits the other with a hand, and it just keeps escalating (until mom or dad says, “If I have to pull this car over…” and metes out their best justice to get them both to stop). 
    Which is why St. Peter and our Lord both instruct us this weekend not to give into revenge.  St. Peter tells us not to render evil for evil, but a blessing instead.  And Christ tells us that the true life of God to which He calls us does not suffice not to kill someone, but to stop that anger in the heart, which is where all action begins.  Murder, which the commandment forbids, is the end result of seeking to administer justice on our own terms, which often, as I said, goes beyond true justice.

St. Paul the Apostle

    St. Paul, quoting Leviticus and Deuteronomy, reminds us that vengeance belongs to the Lord.  So our desire to exact punishment on those who have done us wrong is also a form of pride, a desire to supplant God and put ourselves in His place.  St. James takes up a similar theme in his epistle when he writes, “There is one…judge who is able to save or to destroy.  Who then are you to judge your neighbor?”  When we try to take revenge, we are trying to take the place of God, falling to the temptation that the enemy gave to Eve in the garden, when he enticed her to evil by suggesting that eating the fruit would make her like God.
    But if we truly wish to be like God, then we should seek to reconcile whenever possible.  Yes, God is the judge of the world, and He will judge justly.  But He is also merciful, because in Him justice and mercy have embraced.  He is patient with us sinners, giving us so many opportunities to turn away from our sins and repent, so that we can have union with Him.  That is why our Lord not only teaches us that we should seek to root out anger in our hearts so that we don’t turn to revenge, but also encourages us to make sure that we reconcile before we offer our sacrifice to God in the Mass.  How can we be in communion with others through Holy Communion if we are at the same time seeking their downfall? 
    Instead, God wants us to bear others faults patiently, as he bears ours.  This doesn’t mean that we can’t correct and call others to right behavior, but no matter what, not to carry a grudge if others have done us wrong and have not repented.  A great way to accomplish this is through the Sacrament of Penance, which we often call confession.  Through the sacrament, we are not only reconciled with God, but we are also reconciled with the the community, both of whom the priest represents.  We turn to our brother and ask his mercy for our offenses, and then God invites us to be merciful with others, just as He has been merciful with us.  And having been reconciled with God and with the community, our gift is then acceptable to God, because it is truly offered in communion with Him and with the rest of the Church. 
    A good examination of conscience today will ask ourselves: against whom do I seek revenge?  What harm have others done to me that I have not forgiven?  What anger do I bear in my heart towards my neighbor?  What might they bear against me?  If I truly wish to be like God, then I should offer opportunities to show mercy, just as we have been shown mercy by our Lord Jesus Christ, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit is God for ever and ever.  Amen.  

Not Giving as Good as we Got

Seventh Sunday in Ordinary Time

    When I was around 5 years old, my sister and I were racing up our basement steps on our hands and knees towards the first floor.  On the way up, I slid off the side, and fell, around 8 feet, head first, onto our concrete floor (I’m sure some of you are thinking: that explains a lot about Fr. Anthony!).  I suffered a concussion, and was in the hospital for some time.  While I have no evidence to support this, I jokingly say, to my sister’s chagrin, that she pushed me off so she could beat me to the top.
    I don’t really believe that my sister pushed me, but I do know human nature, and I know that, often, when we feel slighted in some way, we not only give back what we got, but go a little further to make sure that the other person understands that they shouldn’t mess with us again.  This is the tricky thing with justice: we’re good at demanding it, but quite awful at exacting it.  We always give a little bit more than we got.  We see this with kids all the time: one sibling touches another, which leads to a slap, which leads to a punch, with leads to an all-out fight.  But adults aren’t much different, except that as adults were a little bit better at hiding our retribution. 
    As Jesus teaches us in the Gospel today, the idea of exacting justice for ourselves does not always lead to justice.  When we keep returning offense for offense (“an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth”), we continue a cycle of violence that will never stop.  Even if we could exact perfect justice, the cycle would still continue: you offend me, so I offend you back, but then you are offended so you offend me, and then I offend you back, etc., etc. 
    Instead, Jesus invites us to end the cycle, and turn the other cheek.  Jesus is not teaching us here to be punching bags or victims of others’ aggression, but to remove ourselves from this cycle where we think we need to get revenge any time someone does something wrong to us.  Jesus invites us to forgive the other and will the good of the other, or said more simply, to love the other. 
    Now, we can all think of times when this would be unreasonable.  For a cop, he or she may have to use force to subdue an attacker or arrest someone who is not following lawful commands; for our justice system to work we have to punish those who do wrong to the city and help them to understand that breaking legitimate laws is not something that promotes the common good; for our men and women in the armed forces, they are called on to fight enemies of the USA in defense of our country; and even for individuals, one has a right and often an obligation to defend oneself or one’s family against violence. 
    But at the same time, in our day-to-day lives, we have many opportunities to end the cycle of vengeance at home, at work, on the road, and elsewhere.  And when we do, we imitate our heavenly Father who offers even those who offend Him time to repent and to turn away from their evil and live a life of holiness.  Nowhere is this more evident than with St. Paul.  The Acts of the Apostles documents, and St. Paul himself writes in some of his epistles, that he persecuted the Church that Jesus founded.  He even consented to the stoning of St. Stephen.  But God didn’t stop loving Paul, or only give him bad things.  By God’s grace, which was showered upon Paul, he became the greatest missionary in the history of Christianity and gave his life in witness to the faith. 
    So today, let us recommit ourselves to doing as we heard in the first reading, to loving our neighbor as ourselves.  As disciples of Jesus, may we follow the example of our Master, and not respond in vengeance, but end the cycle of giving back at least as good as we were given when someone offends us.  As we have received mercy from our heavenly Father, when strict justice demanded punishment, so may we also be merciful, as our heavenly Father is merciful.