Blessed

I had the great blessing to go to a women's retreat yesterday with my roommates. The retreat was led by Fr. Jacques Philippe, author of many books including "Searching for and Maintaining Peace." A book, now having feasted on his spiritual guidance, I am eager to read. He is working on a book at present on the Beatitudes and he shared some of the fruit of this topic with us. Captivated, of course, by such wisdom and life-giving content, I now rush to share it with you. I hope not to perjure myself in the summary. 

"Blessed those who weep, for they will be comforted." Matthew 5:4

Fr. Philippe depicted God as faithful through suffering. In the beatitude we have the promise of consolation in suffering, though we may be asked to wait in the valley of tears to experience the fulfillment of this promise. These are words, which came to me in the midst of a week, through which I have stood at the precipice between hope and despair. The fatigue of pain in the every day has welled up to overwhelm my senses again, as it is apt to do. Through which the active choice to hope is required of me at each moment. This persistent pain bears a particular form of suffering, which requires me to ride to meet it each day with the will I can muster to actively participate in the color of pain brings to the day. In moments such as these, the most I can do is give voice to it and beg for prayers from those around me, to support me in my weakness and to assist me in allowing Christ to cover me in the shadow of his Cross.

Once we experience the consolation of God, we are called to share this consolation with others. The vocation of the sufferer becomes to turn away from the pity of self toward the good of others. The acceptance of humility brought through trials would bring also a desire to see others consoled before ourselves. That the consolation of others brings its own hope in the fulfillment of God's promise. This life of hope requires us to surrender our suffering into the hands of God, for whatever time He should allow. Hope breathes life into suffering, hope for the future, and trust that God may bring good through it. The outward focus on others should also open us to ask for prayers. To be seen in our weakness and lifted up by the generosity of intercession. This poverty opens us to see, receive and experience the goodness of others.

Since suffering is an interior and subjective experience, it brings a certain form of solitude. We must become aware of the unique opportunity this provides to become a student of empathy. It is, indeed, very hard to help someone who is suffering, there is always a real struggle to find the right attitude. To sit with someone in their weakness and call them into the light of hope is delicate. Without empathy, you remain poor. Empathy provides the grace of the resources to reach through suffering and to dwell with your friend. This  call into the desert may become the means to teach us to affirm and gaze on the dignity of others. In this desert solitude, Christ is very near to us, covering our weakness in the shadow of the cross. He shares in our suffering and consolation.

This promise of consolation helps us to gaze toward the end, the first and final cause of suffering as an opportunity for union with God. Through this we regain peace, hope in a future and the interior fortitude to live in the present suffering. The more we desire to live suffering in holiness, the more we realize that we are poor. This poverty may teach us to surrender our burden to God, which is the work of suffering.

"Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy. " Matthew 5:7

This was a particularly convicting spiritual talk. I find in my own life, that in light of the solitude of suffering it is a constant struggle to stave off bitterness. My natural cynicism is also a hindrance, as my natural inclination is to doubt the sincerity of others. It is yet another battlefield of my heart, and I share it with you to allow you to show me mercy. 

Matthew 6:38: "Give and gifts will be given to you; a good measure, packed together, shaken down, and overflowing, will be poured into your lap. For the measure with which you measure will in return be measured out to you." 

Fr. Philippe began this talk, by siting the above verse, urging us to stretch our minds past the understanding of reward and punishment. It is the reality that we are bound by our own hardness of heart. That we do not show mercy to ourselves when we withhold it from others. We become attached to our wound. In this light it is man who punishes himself. 

The experience of God's mercy can help us to forgive in humility and patience. Jesus, from the cross, reveals that it is only by the grace of God that we can forgive. "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." (Luke 23:34) It is God alone who can forgive absolutely. Forgiveness then is an act of faith, hope and love. Without this gaze, forgiveness is impossible. We ask that our wounds may be transfigured from the darkness in which they seek to fester. 

If I refuse to forgive, I condemn the other and enslave myself to my wound. In Romans 12, St. Paul uses the imagery of showing kindness to those who persecute you as heaping burning coals on their heads. These acts of kindness are acts of surrender and hope for the future of our persecutor, they prepare the way for the coming of the Holy Spirit. This is also an act of forbearing patience, trusting in the will of God, that the healing fire of purification may yet come to pass.

More intimately, it is an act of faith, that the other is not bound by their sin, and is in fact more than their sin. We free the other of our condemnation and free ourselves from the bonds of resentment and vengeance. This too should apply to relationships where we have done good for another. We should not seek to keep a ledger of good or ill actions, that we might seek to be repaid one day. Love ought to be given freely, no one owes me anything by grace, through which I renounce all power over others.