Month: June 2015
Love Trumps: Lessons from the Tale of Woes in Charleston
Three men and six women lying on the floor of an historic Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina, USA, their bibles scattered on the desk and the floor, and blood streaming through the aisle is the picture of the world’s, yet known, greatest tragedy of the week of 17 June 2015. In all the heartbreaking dramas of the past decade, the terrorism and gruesome murder of thousands of Christians and religious minorities across the east, Africa and even in the west, and the destruction of iconic places of worship, this one stands out like the story of “Et tu Brute” (and [even] you, Brutus).
On the west coast of the United States of America, I was having a bible study with more than two hundred men of integrity (BBB Group) at St. Francis of Assisi Catholic Church in Bakersfield, California. The theme was on forgiveness. We recalled the rare cases of Christian forgiveness as witnessed during the Rwandan Genocide of about a million people, Pope Saint John Paul II’s heroic act of forgiveness to his attempted assassin, and many other examples including those from the terrorism-ridden places of the world. Little did we know that, at that very hour, on a similar occasion (bible study), terror was taking place closer home on the other side of the coast about 2500 miles away.
The meek, unarmed and vulnerable Christian community in Charleston welcomed a boy to their fellowship with open arms though he was a stranger. “When I was a stranger, you welcomed me.” They were living the very words of Our Savior Jesus Christ. They were living out the teachings of the bible.
For one hour, one long hour … the boy (his name is intentionally left out here) listened, and was “part” of the body of Christ. The believers may have offered him water and coffee if he wanted it, since it is customary in many churches in the United States of America during bible studies to make for such provisions. After one hour of fellowship, he decided to kill the very people who welcomed him. Unreal! Mean!! Heartless!!! The rest of that horrible incident is a negative history; the memory would hardly be wiped out of the books. My heart bleeds. No need to recount the horror anymore, and give the villain an undue attention and space on my blog.
May the gentle souls of the fallen heroes of Christian hospitality rest in peace. Amen. My heart goes out to the families, church members and friends of the victims. I offered prayers and I will continue to pray this does not repeat, anywhere.
As the story of that massacre evolves, I find behind it yet another story, a Christian message of forgiveness. During the first court (bond) hearing the day after that evil-personified was arrested, the members of the Church and the families of the victims addressed him to his face. They weren’t in denial about their pains which are really deep; instead they acknowledged them but spoke the very word standing as judgment to the wicked: “I forgive you.” “We forgive you.”
I am edified by this heroic spirit of forgiveness and Christian answer to acts of hate and terrorism. I find in the son of one of the victims, the family members of the deceased and the response of the members of that Church as well as other men and women of goodwill, a clear example of the weapon of forgiveness. Christians do not live by the standards of an eye for an eye. We overcome hate with love, violence with peace, murder with the gospel of life. Our weapons are those of love not of hate.
We see in this tragedy, in the blink of an eye, how many people, irrespective of their affiliations, united in condemnation of the horrific murder. And at least, I suppose, a free world would realize how monstrously wicked people could be, if there were no solid moral compass to shape their thoughts and actions.
Many questions have been asked; how did the villain devolve to this extent, how was he raised, who are his mentors, how dare his father gift him a gun irrespective of a questionable track record, why the historic black Church, why in Charleston, South Carolina? We can go on and on without finding satisfactory answers. But one thing is clear to me; it is in the heart, wherein lies hate and the thirst for blood. For if the heart is not trained to love others, to love every life and to see one another as members of one family, it may as well be that a case-study of the mythic controversial homo homini lupus (man a wolf to man) is finding a scene on our time’s (world) stage despite the triumphalism posture of advancements in education, politics, human rights, science and technology.
In the face of evil, racism, and terrorism, in all their forms, we need to realize how love trumps hate; how a sense of reconciling and reconciliatory family is key to building a stronger world; how seeing others, irrespective of their color or background, as a brother, a sister; and how building on good moral foundations, and I dare to say, the dictates of love, is the only lasting principle for any society.
My Most Fascinating Story of the Week (A true story of conversion, faith and happiness)
She has been a Catholic for about two decades, and is one of the most devout women in her parish. A regular Holy Communion communicant, Magdalene (not her real name), is happily married and also active in her community. Committing her time, talents and treasures in the service of God and her neighbor. Her faith … incredible!
“I lived a horrible life in the past. I was proud, lustful, and unhappy but God saved me”, she told the audience who were rapt in deep attention, listening to her story.
Born in an ungodly family in one of the North American countries, her dad forbade her from having Christians as friends or going to church. She was her father’s
darling and adored him. The dad was wealthy and she wouldn’t want to mess with
him, knowing she could lose out on family inheritance. Moreover, she didn’t care much concerning the “whole thing about faith and Christian morality.” She wanted to live her life freely and not be bothered by any standards “limiting” her freedom.
As a teen, she made her choice. “I want to live in the United States, the land of freedom and dreams to enjoy my life and maximize my potentials”, she had disclosed to her father. In order not to lose her to meaningless piety (so it seemed to her dad) of the religious nuns who taught in one of the local schools and who would, from time to time, chat with her to his distaste, she was obliged to migrate to the United Sates of America. This was considered a win-win situation to both her and her dad. She wanted to enjoy life, free from the daily monitoring of her father (her dad didn’t know this), and everyone else’s (including those laidback nuns who taught at her school). For her dad, America was the best fit so she could see life broader and be a freethinker.
The relocation to the US was fun, but only for a time. She was studious and took her academics serious, landing a good job after graduation, way ahead of many of her peers. Her self-esteem was very high. Shoulder high, she enjoyed every iota of pleasure she could afford. No violations of any state laws or work-related policies, no excessive depravity, just the usual stuff, it seemed to her; wining and dining, and sexual gratifications. “If you can afford it, go for it”, she firmly believed. By mistake, as they say, she became pregnant. She didn’t want the baby, not because she was ashamed – not her concern since all in her circle cared less. She decided to abort because she didn’t want to shoulder the responsibility of taking care of a baby.
Walking out of the abortion clinic after a successful abortion, reality set it. She felt sadness, anxiety and worries like never before. Guilt was strong and real. She was completely in moral rags. In her heart, there was a palpable conviction she had done something really horrible, terribly wrong. Her life wouldn’t be the same again. This caused her sleepless nights, climaxing in deep depression. A new search has begun – the search for inner peace.
For close to a decade she was searching. Her controlling temperament set limits to where she could go, and from whom she could receive advice. The person must be pristine, not one of “those”, she resolved. About where to go, some institutions were tabooed. Therefore she tried Yoga, travels to exotic, quiet new-age-style retreat centers or islands. No peace came, happiness seemed far-fetched. Finally, she decided to lift the ban, any Christian church will do provided it wasn’t a Catholic Church. “One faithful day, I was so disoriented I wanted to kill myself. I managed to enter my car and drive with no destination in mind. I wanted to drive to any church but never a Catholic church.”
Thus, any church, which had a look of a Catholic Church, was avoided. Finally, she saw a building that looked like a non-denominational or Pentecostal church. “The looks tell it all”, she said, “definitely this isn’t a Catholic Church.” She will enter and ask the pastor to hear her confession or something like that (she wasn’t thinking of the Catholic Sacrament of Reconciliation) and have the bitterness and guilt of her abortion off her heart.
Like a bi-polar teen run amok, she dashed into the church. The minister was about to begin the “service.” Her eyes were still beclouded she couldn’t notice it was a Catholic priest and the service, the Mass. Her guilt was too much; she couldn’t see beyond her nose. She simply grabbed the minster and the words jumped out of her mouth, “Can you hear my confession?”
The priest who was already vested and ready to begin Mass was taken aback. “Can I do so right after Mass because the Church is assembled for Mass and I should begin the procession?” It was then it dawned on her she had been led to a Catholic Church. She looked around and saw the Church packed; many people inside were calm, gentle and praying. The cantor singing a joyful song to the Lord and many who knew the song sang along. She felt peace outside but not inside of her. Would she surrender her will so cheaply…?
“Never mind”, she replied to the priest. She didn’t want a priest. “A Catholic priest, a Catholic Church? Never!” The priest held her hands as she was about to leave, and said to her, “You are not leaving. I will hear your confession.” He stopped the procession, stepped aside by a private space and heard her confession. “That changed everything for me. Joy filled my heart and has ever since. That was how the Lord brought me to peace and happiness”, she said, tears of joy dripping from her eyes.
“Wow!”, many exclaimed, “God is good.”
Bless, Don’t Curse
It can be a horrible experience to drive through Lagos, Mumbai, Los Angeles or New York City during the rush hour. If you do, you’ll see and hear all sorts of crazy and impatient drivers. If a meter could tally the record-high of the amount of cursing or bad language imposed on the world—it would be during those hours in those cities—where foul language is used with reckless abandon. I imagine people do not reflect on why they take holy names in vain! Or why they curse a driver of another vehicle with words or signs or maledictions. These in no way improve their stressful situation.
How about those who curse just to feel good? For them, cursing has become a tranquilizer; like a drug to ease off stress, tension and anxiety. When they feel bad about anything or anybody, they curse. They think they are just blowing off steam, but they’re actually cultivating a very bad habit.
Wouldn’t it be better—in these less than tranquil situations—to say a word of blessing? Of course it would. Bless your enemies and pray for those who persecute you (Mt. 5:44). Bless! Don’t curse. Even when your mother, father, husband, wife, child, sibling, friend, neighbor or a troublemaker gets on your nerves, bless them, don’t curse.
When your employer stands in your way, or a supervisor fails to show appreciation for your work and services, bless, don’t curse. When your children don’t show respect for your age and experience, bless, don’t curse.
The fact is bad language is a trait of worldliness, the undesirable fruit of lack of self-control, which manifests itself in various dark forms and shades. It can be through misusing God’s name—blasphemy, swearing, profanity—and foul language (vulgarity). It includes cursing and the use of four-letter words which all have something in common—they demonstrate blatant indecency in speech and contempt of the person addressed.
When bad language is used in direct relation to God or sacred realities, it is blasphemous. It is a grave sin because it directly attacks and dishonors the name of God, or the Holy Names and, by that fact, directly dishonors our loving God (cf. CCC 2148). And when used in relation to our fellow human beings, it is a sin against charity.
So do not be too quick to use bad language, curse or swear. If you find yourself doing so, my friend, you have some praying to do. Ask the Holy Spirit to renew your mind and my humble suggestion is, don’t dismiss it with, ‘it’s just a bad habit.’ It is much more than just a habit and shows how much “dirty junk” the mind has been fed and how much has been allowed in.
“The good man out of the good treasure of his heart produces good, and the evil man out of his evil treasure produces evil; for out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks” (Lk. 6:45).
When our hearts and minds are pure, they generate pure thoughts and words, but when they are not, bad language can be one of the vices; this is a sinful default. As a missionary, I have yet to see anyone prone to bad language who does not have challenges with a healthy moral life.
Wry jokes in poor taste such as, “I can’t stand cursing, it sounds like hell!” are immediately put into a sober perspective when we understand the words of Jesus:
“But I say unto you, that every idle word that men shall speak, they shall render an account for it in the Day of Judgment” (Mt. 12:36 Douay-Rheims Bible).
And yet, we must consider the possibility that hell may be plagued with an endless stream of profanity. Cursing may sound like hell more than people realize.
Scripture and the Church’s Sacred Tradition condemn bad language in all its forms. “Thou shalt not use the name of the Lord thy God in vain” (Exod. 20:7).” The second commandment forbids the abuse of God‘s name, i.e. every improper use of the names of God, Jesus Christ, but also of the Virgin Mary and all the saints” (CCC 2146).
Scripture reminds us to respect God’s Holy name: “Let not your mouth form the habit of swearing, or becoming too familiar with the Holy Name…[O]ne who swears continually by the Holy Name will not remain free from sin” (Sir. 23:9).
In this perspective, may everyone become advocates, if you will, of the Holy Name Society!
(Culled from my book, Word For A Wounded World, Vol. 1, pp. 108-110)
Fr. Maurice Emelu 