Word of the Weekend-- POWER

POWER—this is the word of the weekend for me. Over the past few years, my life has been a wrestling with this word. It has been one of those connoting words that twists itself into my sternum and breaks the rhythms of my breathing. It has been one of the F words in my vocabulary. A word to scorn. A word to deny. A word to kill. In my history, it has been a word of abuse, control, manipulation, and a “keeping of people in their places”.

But this past weekend, I came to understand power as a “nice” word in my ministry. And here is my dilemma: What do I do with a “bad” word turned “good”? What the heck do I do with a word that feels unfamiliar and foreign to my experience? What was God thinking when He brought me into this vocation?

As I was reflecting on this dilemma, the words of 2 Corinthians chapter 1 rose up out of the fog. “Therefore, it is by God’s mercy that we engage in this ministry . . . “ Okay . . . I get it! The use of “good” power is one of those adaptive challenges facing me in my ministry. Frankly, I don’t know what to do with power, but God does. This is my salvation. This is walking in mercy. This is walking in grace.

Justice in Monte Cristo

Recently, I watched the movie, The Count of Monte Cristo.  I didn’t choose it, it chose me. Or rather, my daughter chose it, and then somehow it felt as though the movie chose me. It is a story of injustice and justice. It is the story of Edmond Dantes, a naïve and innocent man who finds himself in the midst of an inner struggle to know a God of justice. His inner turmoil becomes an external vendetta, and his retaliation is certainly justified.

 

For Edmond, God disappears; yet a perceptive audience will see Him working in surprising places and through unlikely people. By the end of the story, Edmond has brought justice upon the heads of the oppressors by using their own methods against them. Although, Edmond is driven by revenge, the final outcome invites a question. How does God do justice?

 

My immediate thought following the end of the movie came from Matthew 11:12. “… the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force.”  Why this came to mind, I have no idea. But the surprise of it called me to notice it. This verse makes little sense to me. I have never understood it within its Biblical context, and how it relates to this movie would be pure speculation.

 

But I am one prone to speculate, so I have been pondering its meaning in light of The Count of Monte Cristo. But these are personal thoughts that I will leave to roam around in my head. If you want speculating thoughts, you will need to formulate your own by watching the movie and then reading Matthew 11:12. You may find your own surprise as you reflect on a God of justice.

 

On Justice and Mercy

They asked the Lover,” Where do you come from?"

He answered, “From love.”

“To whom do you belong?”

“I belong to love.”

“Who gave birth to you?”

“Love.”

“Where were you born?”

“In love.”

“Who brought you up?”

“Love.”

“How do you live?”

“By Love.”

“What is your name?”

“Love.”

“Where do you com from?”

“From Love.”

“Where are you going?”

“To love.”

“Where do you live?”

“In love.”

“Have you anything except love?”

“Yes,” he answered, “I have faults, and I have sins against my Beloved.”

“Is there pardon in your Beloved?”

“Yes,” answered the Lover, “in my Beloved there is mercy and justice, and therefore I am lodged between fear and hope.”  

I discovered this quote in An Anthology of Christian Mysticism. It is part of a long piece called “The Book of the Lover and Beloved” written by Ramon Lull. It captured my attention because of the last line and specifically “I am lodged between fear and hope.” For the past few years, justice and mercy have been foremost in my mind and in my experience. I am lodged between the two.

My experience has been that without justice in my own life, I cannot truly know mercy. Mercy has no meaning or relevance without my understanding of justice. I can say the word mercy and have some head knowledge of what that might look like in a given situation, but my heart knows nothing of its meaning until it is juxtaposed with justice.

There was a time when my ideas about justice were clear and static, but not any more. Over the past few years, justice has become multi-layered and dynamic. Justice has become a point of need, a place of healing.  Although justice calls up fear, it feels more like a fear of losing something, the letting go of something. And the hope that mercy offers is the hope of gaining something. 

I am lodged between fear and hope. I lose, yet gain. I let go, but grasp. I receive justice; I receive mercy. I extend justice; I extend mercy. I am lodged in the paradox of justice with mercy and mercy with justice. They are two weights on the same scale. 

 Art: http://www.medicographia.org/html/static/html/issues/article.asp?page=issues/89/art_15/p_4

Misericordia

Misericordia—this word has captured my attention. I first heard it in my daughter’s Monday afternoon Spanish class. The teacher said it is the combination of two words: misery in accord. Thus, it has the meaning of being in accord with misery. The English translation of this word is mercy or compassion.

 

Honestly, mercy never struck me as something in accord with misery. Sympathetic to suffering, yes. Empathetic, yes. Concern in action, yes. But misery? Misery is not a nice word. Misery. . . well . . . misery is a miserable word. As a matter of fact, I can’t remember hearing anyone ever use that word in an everyday sentence. Is it a word avoided?

 

I’ve heard suffering used often, especially in Sunday morning prayers. But that seems to have lost its meaning somewhere in all the church jargon. But misery . . . what if misery or miserable replaced all those suffering words? And then how would I be in accord with another’s misery? In accord means being in agreement. Wow! What would it look like for me to agree with someone’s misery. I would have to be in it.

 

I think I have had a sample of what this might be like. Once, not long ago and while I was walking, I came upon a sick and starving cat. A cat in misery. A miserable cat. It called to me, and its misery entered my soul. I felt pain in the deep places of my being. I cried all the way home. I cried for its misery. I got our animal carrier, and my husband drove me back to get the miserable creature. We took it to the vet where the diagnosis was death. I cried again for its misery and mine. I wanted it to be well. I wanted the vet to heal it. But that was not the outcome. I felt misery in accord with a cat’s misery. And out of that misery came compassionate action—mercy.

 

Misericordia—in accord with misery—mercy. 

Photo:http://www.umilta.net/bigallo.html