I have been reading Paramhansa Yogananda’s Autobiography of a Yogi and have found many of his observations not only about Christ but wholly consistent, at least to my meagre understandings, with orthodox Christian teaching. This morning I read the following:
“The omnipotence of spiritual law was referred to by Christ on the occasion of his triumphant entry into Jerusalem. As the disciples and the multitude shouted for joy, and cried, ‘Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest,’ certain Pharisees complained of the undignified spectacle. ‘Master,’ they protested, ‘rebuke thy disciples.’
‘I tell you,’ Jesus replied, ‘that, if these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out.’ (Lk 19:37-40)
In this reprimand to the Pharisees, Christ was pointing out that divine justice is no figurative abstraction, and that a man of peace, thoug his tongue be torn from its roots, will yet find his speech and his defense in the bedrock of creation, the universal order itself.
‘Think you,’ Jesus was saying, ‘to silence men of peace? As well may you hope to throttle the voice of God, hose very stones sing His glory and His omnipresence. Will you demand that men not celebrate in honor of the peace in heaven, but should only gather together in multitudes to should for war on earth? The make your preparations, O Pharisees, to overtopple the foundations of the world; for it is not gentle men alone, but stones or earth, and water and fire and air that will rise up against you, to bear witness of His ordered harmony.” (280)
Like so many other people of faith, and many who lack faith but nevertheless feel the pull of transcendence in their lives, I so often feel anger, despair, and frustration over how people brutalize one-another, individually & collectively. When individuals or small groups wield excessive power (particularly economic power within our society) seemingly without a moral compass, or with a perverted and distorted one, the feelings of righteous indignation become almost overwhelming. Confronting power & the powerful is exhausting, physically & emotionally, and in many cases carries very real worldly consequences.
What Yogananda, a Hindu, reminds us Christians of is the certitude that their is such a thing as transcendent justice. We live in a thickened reality in which the will, purpose, and meaning of God (“the Creator,” “the Divine,” “the Universe”–whatever term one is comfortable with) is seen only “through a glass darkly,” if at all. Yet our ability to perceive is not a requirement for its existence. Above all things there is order in the universe–even the secularists acknowledge this. Is it such a stretch to believe that there is not a moral order as well? Christ said,
“’Amen, I say to you, what you did not do for one of these least ones, you did not do for me” (Mt 25:45-46).
For Christians, Christ is synonymous with God; within most of the great spiritual traditions, God is all. It follows that injustices directed towards others, especially those “least ones” who have little or no recourse in the face of power & the powerful, is an affront against God. In our fallen state, we brush this aside too easily. What could be worse than an offense against the order of the Universe?
My challenges, especially since returning from Iraq, have been trying to understand my role in confronting injustice, and how to avoid the self-righteous, ego-driven desire to see others punished.
I see two problems inherent in challenging the powerful in their abuse of the vulnerable. The first is the belief that only I (or we) can affect change. This smacks of either a selfish desire to save others, or an equally selfish feeling that that one owns the righteousness that belongs to God. Such is the zealot. The other side of the coin is an extreme passivity, trusting that “it’s in God’s hands,” that one person is useless in such struggles. In all honesty, I’ve felt both ways at different points in time. It strikes me, though, that an individual can be an agent for good (or The Good), if she or he does so through prayerful reflection. The challenge is to so attune one’s inner life as to hear the voice of the Infinite (even though it usually comes in whispers) within. Easily said; not so easily done! The first step, though, is taken through humility, that the struggle for righteousness & justice is a struggle larger than any one person, or even any specific act.
The desire for punishment seems to be a very human (& hence very flawed) part of our being. The most dramatic–and ugly–recent example is that of the trial of Casey Anthony in the death of her daughter, Caylee. The mother’s culpability in the case was called into doubt, and a jury of twelve felt that the evidence was not enough to convict her. Having served on two juries–one for a murder, the second for a rape–I know how difficult these judgements can be (both trials resulted in convictions; sitting in judgement over a fellow human being is not a pleasant experience). The tragedy of this little girl’s death and the events surrounding of it has been offset by the cries for vigilante justice directed towards Anthony. We agree, in a civil society, to set aside preconceptions & prejudices and let a system of justice decide whether a person is guilty or not guilty. Whether or not Anthony is, in truth, guilty of her daughter’s death rests now upon her soul; our (admittedly flawed) justice system exonerated her. The pitchforks and torches were sitting in wait until the verdict was read, and they came out dramatically thereafter. If we accept a system of justice, then we are bound to it. If that system is transcendent in nature, then we are even more tightly bound to it than any human imitation.
I catch myself frequently longing to see certain individuals suffer some sort of divine retribution. Those whose decisions cause massive human suffering, misery, & death should not, I feel, escape punishment. But once we accept that true Justice belongs to a transcendent power, we are bound to it, even if does not seem swift or sure, and even when it takes a form we don’t like. Paul advises as much in his letter to the Christians in Rome:
“Do not repay anyone evil for evil; be concerned for what is noble in the sight of all. If possible, on your part, live at peace with all. Beloved, do not look for revenge but leave room for the wrath; for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’ Rather, ‘if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals upon his head.’ Do not be conquered by evil but conquer evil with good.”
It is human for us to seek vengeance when we feel that righteousness has been betrayed, but that is not justice. Rather, it is the ego, that self-oriented part of our being, that wants our conception of justice rather than justice-writ-large. We are called, as people of faith, to turn away from the ego, to give those feelings of vengeance over to God, trusting that He/She/It will administer the justice as is best for all–the wrongdoers as well as the victims. In fact, we are called upon to deal with those who sin greatly with the same compassion as those who sin in small ways, turning aside our human desires, embracing instead those of God. It’s not easy; at times it’s very difficult keeping His Will in mind. Yet, it is what we accept when we agree to follow Him.
Lord, whose timeless love knows no partiality, and who mourns even as you chastise; teach us to be courageous in the face of injustice, and strengthen in us the spark of your divine love so that we may truly conquer evil with good. Amen.
