Recovering a quite forgotten element of Christian charity, The Anchor, February 24, 2012

Fr. Roger J. Landry
The Anchor
Editorial
February 24, 2012

In his letter for Lent, Pope Benedict XVI sought to spur all Catholics to the “very heart of Christian life: charity.” Even though on extraordinary occasions like the natural disasters in New Orleans, Malaysia and Haiti people respond very generously, there is under ordinary circumstances, Pope Benedict said, a growing lack of mutual concern in our culture, flowing from “an indifference and disinterest born of selfishness and masked as a respect for ‘privacy.’” Like the priest and the Levite in the parable of the Good Samaritan, or the rich man in the parable of Lazarus, many can become so occupied with their own activities that they neglect those who are in desperate circumstances (Lk 10:30-32; 16:19). In an American culture in which independence and personal responsibility are so stressed, there’s the perennial temptation to deny, like Cain, that we are our brothers’ keeper (Gen 4:9).

This Lent the pope summons us to overcome the “spiritual anesthesia” that can numb us to the needs of others and make us deaf to the cry of the poor. “The great commandment of love for one another demands that we acknowledge our responsibility towards those who, like ourselves, are creatures and children of God,” the pope wrote. At the root of so many local, national and international problems, Pope Benedict noted, is the suffering that flows “above all from a lack of brotherhood.”

This absence of authentic fraternity is found, he observed, at the level of material and physical well-being, but is even more prevalent in terms of concern for others’ moral and spiritual good. In general we are still “very sensitive to the idea of charity and caring about the physical and material well-being,” but we are “almost completely silent about our spiritual responsibility towards our brothers and sisters.” That’s why he focused most of his letter on “fraternal correction in view of eternal salvation,” an aspect of the Christian life that he believes “has been quite forgotten.”

Jesus speaks about fraternal correction in St. Matthew’s Gospel, when He says that if we observe a brother or sister sinning, we are to “go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained your brother. But if he does not listen, take one or two others along with you. If he refuses to listen to them, tell it to the Church; and if he refuses to listen even to the Church, let him be to you as a Gentile and a tax collector,” as someone who has chosen to separate himself from the community (Mt 18:15-18). For communities that are “truly mature in faith,” that are truly Christian, there must be this ardent concern for others’ “spiritual health and ultimate destiny.” “Admonishing sinners” is and will always remain a spiritual work of mercy.

This act of Christian charity, however, has become shamefully rare. While many will get together to confront a friend who has an alcohol or drug addiction, few will make the same effort when the friend has a problem with selfishness, lack of forgiveness, dishonesty, lust, laziness, a God-less life, or practices clearly contrary to the Gospel. This is as much a problem for priests and bishops who fail to discipline public figures who cause scandal as it is for lay faithful who fail to speak up when family members or friends are engaged in sinful relationships.

The pope mentions a few reasons for this form of spiritual neglect of others by Christians. First, there are some who “out of human regard or purely personal convenience, adapt to the prevailing mentality, rather than warning their brothers and sisters against ways of thinking and acting that are contrary to the truth and that do not follow the path of goodness.” Some Christians have lost their salt, because they’ve conformed their minds to the spirit of the age — and are in need of Lenten metanoia. True conversion, as the future Pope Benedict said in 2000, means to “rethink, to question one’s own and common way of living; to allow God to enter into the criteria of one’s life; to not merely judge according to the current opinions; not to live as all the others live, not do what all do, not feel justified in dubious, ambiguous, evil actions just because others do the same; to begin to see one’s life through the eyes of God; not aiming at the judgment of the majority, of men, but on the justice of God.” The first reason that Christians often fail in their charity to help others live as Christ lives is because they themselves aren’t thinking according to Christ’s categories.

The second reason for the failure to be others’ keeper is, the pope stressed, because of a “mentality that, by reducing life exclusively to its earthly dimension, fails to see it in an eschatological perspective and accepts any moral choice in the name of personal freedom.” Christians, too, when they stop orienting all of their desires and choices to God and eternity can begin to think that others’ sinful choices and our failure to admonish them are not particularly consequential. Fraternal correction, however, is not simply a laudable Christian option, but a moral duty, as God Himself revealed to us through the prophet Ezekiel: “If I tell the wicked man that he shall surely die, and you do not speak out to dissuade the wicked man from his way, he [the wicked man] shall die for his guilt, but I will hold you responsible for his death. But if you warn the wicked man, trying to turn him from his way, and he refuses to turn from his way, he shall die for his guilt, but you shall save yourself” (Ezek 33:8-9). In other words, giving fraternal correction to a brother or sister in need is not an discretionary thing we may do depending upon our whims; rather it is an obligation, a mission Christ gives us, on the basis of which our salvation, too, hinges.

The third reason is a misunderstanding about what fraternal correction is. “Christian admonishment,” the pope wrote, “is never motivated by a spirit of accusation or recrimination. It is always moved by love and mercy, and springs from genuine concern for the good of the other.” Admonishing sinners is not a license for tearing other people down, but is meant to help them address the spiritual cancers that are impeding their growing to full stature in Christ. It’s not a green light for chronic complainers and incessant naggers to have a field day, but a summons for all of us to take out the planks in our eyes so that we may look at others with love and help them remove whatever is morally blinding them. It’s a summons to bring to others the healing we ourselves have received from the Divine Physician.

The fourth and final reason for the infrequency of fraternal correction is a failure to appreciate who Jesus really is. Many Christians understand Jesus’ kindness, compassion and love almost as unconditional indulgence. They can forget, as Pope Benedict wrote, that the real Christ “commands us to admonish a brother who is committing a sin.” In this, He’s not merely telling us to do as He says, but to follow Him. Jesus was not “nice” as the world uses the term today. Ask the moneychangers, whose tables He overturned and whom He whipped out of the temple. Ask the Scribes and the Pharisees, whom He called hypocrites, whitewashed sepulchers, and broods of vipers. Ask St. Peter whom He labeled Satan and instruct to get behind Him rather than try to lead Him away from the Cross. Jesus had come to save the moneychangers, the Scribes and the Pharisees, and the Apostles; to do that, however, He had to first let them know that they were veering from the Gospel, turning away from love, turning their backs on Him. In the same way, all Christians who share in Jesus’ mission must have the courage to risk being considered uncivil or no longer “nice” if a brother or sister needs our help.

This Lent, as we convert to thinking as God does through prayer and fasting, let us ask Him for the grace to give more lavishly and lovingly the spiritual alms of fraternal correction, so that after the long Lent of earthly life, together with others we might come to the eternal Easter.

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