Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Making spiritual fatherhood mine

It is just a numbers game to them. First, on Thursday, in an open-air market in southern Beirut, a couple of suicide bombers detonated themselves, killing 43 and wounding 239. Then eight men go out on Friday night, spraying bullets and setting off bombs in six locations in Paris, where people are just having a good time. Currently 129 people are reported dead, with over 350 injured. This is terrorism at its worst, tragically hiding behind the banner of religion.

How have we, humans, descended to hating each other so much that we would be willing to go on suicide missions, taking down as many lives with us as possible?

How much have we dishonoured God, Allah, by mocking the sanctity of life and killing in cold blood, then using Him as an excuse for our actions? One life destroyed in a deliberate of murder is one life too many.

Sunday's Gospel from Mark 13:24-42 aptly reads:

In those days after that tribulation
the sun will be darkened,
and the moon will not give its light,
and the stars will be falling from the sky,
and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

Despite our horror at the world gone mad, the parousiac promise is this:

And then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in the clouds’
with great power and glory,
and then he will send out the angels
and gather his elect from the four winds,
from the end of the earth to the end of the sky.

We cannot give up hope that goodness will triumph over evil for Christ has already redeemed the world. We cannot rest in our efforts to transform our anger and bitterness into life-giving, creative ways that can reduce the number of these end times experiences.

This is our mandate as decent human beings, we stay vigilant at all times by being as loving, merciful and righteous as Jesus was. Ours not to figure out when our collective and individual ends will be, but ours to be fully prepared by living out Isaiah 61 as concretely as possible.

One such way is to take on the role of spiritual fatherhood that Henri Nouwen writes about in his book The Return of the Prodigal Son.

We are each called to be the patient and loving father to foolish and rebellious but returning prodigal children, as well as to the angry, resentful children who fail to see they are loved as much as the prodigals.

There are three ways Nouwen proposes we take on spiritual fatherhood: grief, forgiveness and generosity. He encourages grief, the shedding of tears for others, as a way to compassion. With insight Nouwen writes:

...grief is the discipline of the heart that sees the sin of the world, and knows itself to be the sorrowful price of freedom without which love cannot bloom.

Grieving becomes prayer when it prepares the heart to respond with compassion for often we are called to show compassion by forgiving others. As forgiving is "very, very difficult" and "next to impossible", Nouwen proposes a divine forgiveness which "comes from a heart that does not demand anything for itself", a heart that is completely empty of self-seeking" so that we can welcome others into our hearts without expecting anything in return. To be more like God, our Father, we need to remember our own identity as Beloved Child so that we can "step over" our own fears, needs, hurts, inclinations and pride to move into forgiveness.

Generosity, the giving of self is the third discipline Nouwen espouses as it is something that does not come spontaneously. He says:

As children of the darkness that rules through fear, self-interest, greed, and power, our great motivators are survival and self-preservation. But as children of the light who know that perfect love casts out all fear, it becomes possible to give all that we have for others. 

This can only happen when we trust the Father implicitly to take care of us and we believe that we are all kinfolk, brothers and sisters.

Grief, forgiveness and generosity call for a constant and active renewal of faith, "a radical discipline of being home". We must repeatedly return home into the Father's arms as repentant prodigals ourselves to allow the Father's tender, forgiving and generous love to heal us, so we can pay it forward by emulating Him with others in our lives.      

So how does spiritual fatherhood figure in this climate of terror? It begins with me refusing to give in to fear, and continuing to befriend peoples of different races and beliefs.

I neither persecute people who share diametrically opposing outlooks in life, nor do I disregard or avoid those who make me feel uncomfortable. I need to fight more for the rights of the marginalized and look for more wrongs to address. Most of all, I should carry the hearts of those I love, namely family members, with more compassion, tolerance and patience.

Nouwen writes that there is an emptiness that comes from selfless giving, an emptiness both dreaded and fruitful. It is dreaded for it demands a will open to divine guidance and it offers "no power, no success, no popularity, no easy satisfaction". But it is fruitful for can be a place of freedom - I can welcome anyone without condemnation and offer hope, as well as engender a liberating trust.

Each time we touch the sacred emptiness of non-demanding love, heaven and earth tremble, and there is great "rejoicing among the angels of God". It is the joy for the returning sons and daughters. It is the joy of spiritual fatherhood.

I believe Nouwen's poetic optimism will serve us well in the days to come as we combat terrorism without resorting to the foul means used by those who stand on the side of evil.



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