Apart
from the self-sacrificial love of God, there is only revenge.
Considering
the message of most Western literature and even Hollywood today, a lust for
revenge might seem the dominant meta-narrative of our culture.
From the
Iliad to Hamlet to the anti-heroine of True Grit, revenge satisfies a sinful
passion that infects our souls apart from the Grace of God. It so consumes the
message of The Count of Monte Cristo, that Dantes confesses: “How did I escape?
With difficulty. How did I plan this moment? With pleasure.”
But what
does the love of God the Father—as revealed to us in Jesus Christ—teach about
revenge? About repaying evil for evil?
Jesus
says when struck to “turn the other cheek” (Luke 6:29). In the brutal climax of
his torture, he uses his dying breath to pray that the Father would forgive his
captors (Luke 23:34). For those who hate us, and wish to do us harm, the Great
Physician prescribes a healthy dose of kindness. And the apostle Paul writes to
the Romans:
Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave
it to the wrath of God; for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay,
says the Lord.” No, “if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give
him drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals upon his head.” Do not
be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good. —Rom. 12:19–21
In the
life of Saint Patrick—who the Orthodox Church honors as the ‘Enlightener’ and
apostle to Ireland on March 17—we see the sort of self-sacrificial love that
God both exemplifies and desires from his people.
Patrick
was stolen away as a teenager, taken from his family and friends. Brought to
Ireland by Irish marauders, he escaped after six long years. He was dragged to
Ireland as a slave, but when he became a bishop, he returned to Ireland with
the Gospel. And in this is true love—the antithesis of revenge and self-serving
vengeance.
In his
Confession, St. Patrick describes the time of his captivity in some detail.
When he
was taken, he was nearly sixteen years old. Patrick was the son of a deacon,
with a priest for a grandfather. In spite of this ancestry, he admits that he
was far from pious and had turned away from God in his youth. In his own mind,
the reason for his captivity was unbelief. Like Israel, he was being scattered
among the nations for repentance. The Lord had dragged him into slavery in
order that he might “turn with all my heart to the Lord my God, who regarded my
low estate” (Confession 1.1).
When
Patrick was brought to Ireland and sold into slavery, the land was teeming with
paganism. The Irish worshipped the sun as a god, and made sacrifices to it. The
‘plain of slaughter’ was where first-born children were sacrificed to idols.
Even wells became a place of worship, with divinity ascribed to them. It was a
nation far from the Triune God.
Serving
in Ireland as a shepherd, Patrick found many occasions to turn to God in
prayer. From his writing, it seems clear that prayer was perhaps his only hope
and comfort during this time. He confesses to saying as many as a hundred
different prayers during the day, and just as many—if not more—during the evening.
Rain or shine, he would withdraw to a quiet place in the mountains near Antrim
to pray before first light. It was during a night of fervent prayer that he
heard a voice telling him to go find a ship nearly two hundred miles
away—prepared, as it were, for his escape back to Britain (ibid. 2.6).
His journey from Ireland back home was
fraught with difficulty. At one point, both starvation and exhaustion for his
party seemed all but certain. Patrick then turned to God in prayer and they
were provided with an abundance of food—just enough, in fact, as they arrived
with nothing remaining (ibid. 2.7–9).
Back in
Britain after six years, he was received like the prodigal son. Safe at home,
he was warmly embraced, his parents knowing that they had lost so many precious
years with their child. But a few years after his return, he started seeing
visions.
In one,
he was told by “the voice of the people of Ireland” to “come and walk still
among us.” In another vision, he heard it asked, “Who for thee laid down his
life?” When it came time for his ordination to the episcopate, Patrick was
thankful that he was preserved in the faith from the temptations of his youth,
so that he could offer himself as a living sacrifice. He asked, “Who am I, O
Lord, or what is my calling, that thou hast granted me so much of thy Divine
presence?” (ibid. 3:14)
As
already mentioned, Ireland was a land of pagan worship and child sacrifice. It
was a place of depression and unspeakable horrors. It was a people that had
taken Patrick away for six grueling years. And yet, it was deeply imbued in
Patrick’s heart to return to this place with the Gospel message.
Now a
bishop, in 432 Patrick returned of his own free will to Ireland. Of his efforts
there, the Menaion records:
His
arduous labors bore so much fruit that within seven years, three bishops were
sent from Gaul to help him shepherd his flock, “my brethren and sons whom I
have baptized in the Lord—so many thousands of people,” he says in his
Confession. His apostolic work was not accomplished without much “weariness and
painfulness,” long journeys through difficult country, and many perils; he says
his very life was in danger twelve times.
After
thirty years of service, the Christian faith was established in every part of
Ireland. Pagan worship had been driven far away, and love for the true and
Triune God was common among all. Patrick writes:
Behold, how the Irish who never had the
knowledge of God, and hitherto worshipped only idols and unclean things, have
lately become the people of the Lord, and are called the sons of God.
—Confession 4.17
St.
Patrick reposed peacefully in 461, having given his remaining earthly years as
a sacrifice for the people who had once sold him into captivity.
If
literature and film that extols revenge is typical of our culture, most of us
would have spent those six years plotting our own acts of vengeance against the
Irish. But St. Patrick shows us a better way—He shows us the way of Christ.
Revenge
is empty. It only destroys our soul and consumes our mind with empty thoughts.
But the way of love and self-sacrifice is a way that leads to fullness; a way that
leads to transformation into the true image and likeness of God.
By Gabe Martini
March 30, 2014
Source: http://orthochristian.com/69325.html
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