"To see all things 'in Christ' is to see them in Christ complete, in the mystic person in whom the Head is completed by its members and in whom the members complete themselves and complete the Head." - Thomas Merton, preface to Marthe, Maria, et Lazare (from Honorable Reader - Reflections on my Works)
So, when we discovered that our intent in visiting Columbus, GA this week was somewhat foiled, I wanted to come home the next day except for not wanting to drive 10 hours for two days in a row. Instead we hung out for one more day; we had a short visit with our son-in-law, and then I babysat Emma so she could have a nap while everyone else went to lunch. Later in the afternoon, I went out to the library in search of a computer on which to blog a bit on Fr. Neuhaus, whom I've been neglecting for a little while now. (Neglecting writing, not reading; I've still been reading his book: good stuff!) On the way, I realized I left my book in the hotel room, but heck, I was going to a library! I wandered over to the Religion section in the hope of finding a copy of Fr. Neuhaus' book , when my eyes fell on this really unusual Merton volume. The Abbey of Gethsemani is one of my favorite places in the world, so I feel a special closeness to Merton. It seems they've published a book of prefaces that he penned for foreign or revised editions of his books. The author of the preface to this volume commented on the irony of writing a preface to a book of prefaces. I encountered some great stuff in this particular preface of Merton's, but what struck me as pertinent to where I am right now was in this specific quote. The computers were all tied up, so I couldn't post on this when I read it; I went back to the room and wrote longhand, which now becomes this post. (And I'm going to have to read the rest of this book!)
Of all authors, I especially hesitate to be critical of Merton, whom I respect deeply, and who hasn't been able to explain himself to us for over four decades. So rather than getting caught up in what he may have meant by implying that Christ is somehow incomplete without us, I find myself really resonating with the idea that I need to see all things in Christ. Of course, we're challenged in this by many different circumstances we experience; most of us have encountered setbacks which are later revealed to be blessings in disguise. Yet even if we accept this premise in a general sense, we may greatly struggle to receive or experience it in the context of our most traumatic personal experiences.
When we observe or encounter evil in the world or in our lives, we often ask ourselves, "Where was God?" But when it affects me personally, when I have been offended and hurt to the core of my being, or worse, have hurt another to the innermost part of their own personhood, should I really expect to somehow - eventually - see this "in Christ," complete or otherwise?
And yet I have seen and come to believe that God is especially present with us even in the midst of the greatest hurt we receive, protecting us from the full harm that would otherwise surely ensue. I see, too, that God is more obviously present in our healing from those hurts, and further so in our pouring forth the healing we have received into the lives of others.
I have found that nothing has hurt me or diminished me so greatly as the hurt I have inflicted on another. But when I do what I can to participate in that person's healing - not for the purpose of simply salving my own shame, but truly from a desire to see them healed for their own sake, and even if that means leaving that person alone - I begin to see my share of this hurt "in Christ." As I see God using my deepest hurt to help another be healed of their own, I begin to see a value in my own pain, to see it "in Christ," and to not hate it or dread it with my entire being. For this other's sake, I may even be slightly grateful for some thing that I hate for my own. For when my newly-healing soul can reach out to another broken one, is not Christ's crucified and resurrected healing presence at work in our midst? How can I not then begin to see this hated event in Christ, and if not be thankful for it, at least be thankful that He has brought some good from it?
That isn't to say that I should put on rose colored glasses, pretend I was unaffected, or proclaim evil as good . . .
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