Gentleness: Handmaiden of Justice

For many devout Catholics who join together to pray the current Pentecost Novena, a popular theme is that of the Nine Gifts of the Holy Spirit, as listed by Saint Paul: “…love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control” (Galatians 5:22-23). I spend a lot of my time reading, praying, and writing about the injustices and lawlessness that seems to be the mark of the current age, and which is all the more hideous and lamentable when it seems to mark the Bride of Christ, the Church.

It is easy for not a few, in the face of so much inner pain and understandable anger, to lose sight of the joy and the serenity which ought to mark the life and person of the mature Christian. It is all the more painful in that so many people feel so helpless to correct the situation. For some among these especially, the unmitigated pain becomes the source of a “root of bitterness” which the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews warns us about. (Hebrews 12:15) Unresolved pain, even as we see the Church we love suffer, can be an avenue through which the tempter subtly enters.

The Angelic Doctor and others, based upon the Sacred Scripture, remind us that the action of the Holy Spirit is that which is perceived suaviter et firmiter, or sweetly and strongly. One can think for instance of the dance of discernment, and one’s free response to respond in love to God’s invitation to love, as discovered in so many who sincerely seek God’s will. Many sense this like an inaudible whistle, or a caressing tide, which leads to that moment in life where we feel, in response to God’s invitation, the “ought” and the “must” which are the hallmarks of a true vocation. In other words, once caught in God’s ‘gravity’, the voice of God no longer becomes simply an imposition upon our life-as-lived, but an invitation to hear life according to a different music, so to speak. It is for this reason that St. Augustine reminds us that God’s action toward the soul is a true suasio which comes as a sort of anticipatory grace to persuasio. Suasio is etymologically related to the adverb suaviter, both coming from the Latin root meaning “sweet”. In other words, in other to persuade us, God must first often ‘suades’ us: he in a mysterious way ‘sweetens the deal’ in the hidden chambers of the heart, so that life and grace may bloom within.

This somewhat poetic and spiritual language may seem somewhat distant from the lived experience of many in the trenches of the combat for the rejuvenation of the Church, but it is important we not lose sight of these heights; if they feel distant from us, it is because we have fallen a great deal. To adapt the aphorism of Jaroslav Pelikan, piety is the sincere faith of the living; pietism is the lying faith of the dead. We have all seen our leaders speak the language of pietism to justify grave injustice. Let me be clear what I mean: those who by ‘obedience’ mean abject slavery of mind and spirit, those who by ‘simplicity’ mean willingness to be micromanaged and controlled, and so on. But if we let their duplicity rob us of our trust and rest in the God who, as the ancient theologians told us, can neither deceive, nor be deceived, then the war for our day has been lost before it has been joined.

The fruit of the Spirit, that of “gentleness”, is most needed in God’s servants especially when they are the ones who say they hunger and thirst for justice. Why is this? Because Scripture teaches us that the “anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God” (James 1:20), and therefore, if we desire righteousness, our anger, even our just anger, will not fully accomplish that goal.

The Greek word πρᾳΰτης is the word St. Paul uses in Galatians, usually translated “gentleness”. An etymological history shows that prautes is used in Ancient Pagan Greek literature to denote “a soothing wind, a healing medicine, and a colt that had been broken…thus prautes describes power under control.” Interestingly, Jesus also calls himself “praus of heart”, (Matthew 11:29) in one of the most celebrated passages on the tenderness of Our Lord. This is borne out throughout all the Gospels in the measured, gentle way in which Jesus usually deals with people. In the Old Testament, this is intimately related to the word ‘anav, (ענו) which is often translated “poor, humble, or afflicted”. In other words, as the Sacred Scripture teaches us, there is something in being afflicted which may lead to gentleness of heart, if anger is not allowed to gain the upper hand.

Admittedly, Our Lord reacts with anger especially toward those of little faith, or toward religious leaders who should know better. In my opinion, this should make us less shake our fingers at our leaders, than be the impetus for us to strike our breasts, nobis quoque peccatoribus…

Even the Latin Vulgate asks God, “Memento Domine, David, et omnis mansuetudinis David…” (Psalm 131:1) that is, “Remember Lord, David, and his meekness.” In the Psalm, this is set in the context of the vow King David made to God to build him a temple, even in spite of his sins. David, we are told, indeed prepared for the construction of the Temple with huge stockpiles of wood, stone, and precious metals. Even though in his lifetime he was told he would not be the one to build it, David endeavored, as it were, to put his hands to the task through the labor of the generations that would come: generations, like Solomon, who would have him to thank largely for the multitude of logistical work already done for the task at hand. I have often wondered why the Psalm would then shift from the “meekness of David” to the rejoicing of the Priests, and by extension, of all the people. There are of course Messianistic prophecies contained in this Psalm, but there is also something perennially valid, a sort of spiritual law, such as can be found in all Scripture: that it is only through gentleness that the justice of God is achieved, and the primary means for God’s saints to achieve that gentleness is through affliction. The meekness of one can lead the rejoicing of many. The bitterness of one can lead the grief of many, as well.

The Medievals were fond of calling the science/study of philosophy the handmaiden of theology, because it is through the discipline of philosophy that we have the refinement of human reason necessary to examine humbly the content of Divine Revelation. Divine Revelation tells us, as far as human language can express, the mysteries hidden in the inner life of God. It belongs to Human Reason, with the assistance of the Holy Spirit, to help us to rightly interpret what God has revealed. I would like to draw an analogy, in that while the virtue of Justice may instruct us in what ought to be done, gentleness helps us to understand how it may come about. Gentleness as a fruit shows us what is most in accord with the Spirit of God, who is the principal driver of renewal in the Church in every age.

As hard as it may be, the work for renewal in the Church and in the world is a task, which although arduous, must be marked with all the fruits of the Holy Spirit. These are the stamps of authenticity produced by no other than the one in whom the Church finds her fundamental unity. As we proceed with anticipation toward the great Feast of Pentecost, and as we pray that he bless us in our prayers and labor for the sake of the Church, this would be a good time to ask ourselves whether our lives and habits manifest those fruits so praised by St. Paul and all Sacred Scripture, or whether we have fallen prey to the bitterness which ultimately destroys.