What’s in a Word

Every day we hear the news on radio or in conversation. We read the news. We watch and listen to the news on TV. The “hottest” news, of course, is usually the bad news — violence, corruption, dishonesty, infidelity, death, destruction.
Occasionally we get a happy respite from it all, like the World Cup matches last month. Alas, most of the time, the news brings the same tale of woe — e.g., Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia, Palestine and Israel.
We don’t always use the best words to talk about the news — right words, that is. We’re short on true words, accurate words, pointed and analytic words. We’re not accustomed “to call a spade a spade.”
Here’s a relatively underutilized family of words very useful for describing many of today’s world events (descriptions courtesy of my Reader’s Digest dictionary):

Revenge, vengeance, retaliation, reprisal, and retribution denote the infliction of punishment or injury for a wrong.
– Revenge stresses personal bitterness that seeks relief in harming or humiliating an enemy.
– Vengeance, originally the indignant vindication of justice, is now applied to any furious and thoroughgoing revenge.
Retaliation suggests the repayment of an act by a like act.
Reprisal denotes any calculated retaliation, as by one nation against another. Reprisals are usually undertaken to obtain redress of a wrong, or to force a change of policy.
Retribution is punishment for a wrong, but not necessarily by its victim; thus, a misfortune suffered by a wrongdoer may be regarded at the retribution of fate or providence.

They’re not all bad words. Many of them have a long and honorable history.

In most ancient societies, and many modern ones, these words name a debt of honor. One’s honor — and the honor of the family, clan, tribe or nation — demands redress and punishment for an injury or wrong, whether physical or verbal
Not to seek redress is considered to be weak — “unmanly,” if you will — and negligent of a solemn duty and obligation.
Immemorial rules like “an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth” presume this obligation of honor and simply seek to moderate it, ensuring that “honorable” actions are not disproportionate.
Modern just war theory is deeply rooted in these ancient and biblical teachings. That’s the basis for a moral critique of, for example, carpet bombing, indiscriminate use of land mines, nuclear war and massive retaliation.
The teachings of Jesus go far beyond the moderation of vengeance and retaliation. He urges his followers to renounce entirely their right to redress and challenges them with a higher honor and obligation — to be Godlike and forgive.
Forgiveness is no act of weakness — it’s actually an act of great strength. It’s also empowering and ultimately far more effective in bringing about change in another than coercion and external violence.
Anyway, let’s be a little pragmatic. Forgiveness and love is the ideal, moderate and reasonable defense is certainly not inappropriate, but massive and indiscriminate retaliation is wrong.
Revenge, vengeance, retaliation, reprisal, and retribution are useful words for our working vocabulary but need to be handled with precision and care — especially when examining our own consciences.


(Published in
0ne, 36:4, July 2010)

Seventy-Seven Times

The beginning of the book of Genesis explains why God’s creation is marred by evil. In simple stories, it gives a profound message. God’s work is good. If there is evil, it comes from our misuse of our God-given freedom.
After the shocking story of Cain’s killing his brother, the litany of his descendants culminates with Lamech. Lamech’s evil boast is that his revenge against his enemies knows no bounds: “I have killed a man for wounding me, a boy for bruising me. If Cain is avenged sevenfold, then Lamech seventy-sevenfold.”
There is a beautiful, contrary story in the Gospel according to Matthew. When Peter asks Jesus, “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?”
Jesus answers, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.” Not only must we renounce our right to revenge, we must pardon those who injure us and our pardon must know no bounds!
Gustave Flaubert wrote a very moving short story, The Legend of Saint Julian the Hospitaller. It’s a variation of the Saint Christopher theme, about recognizing the Lord in one of His least ones.
Julian, living a life of austerity and penance for his many and great sins, is visited by a hideous, leprous beggar. First he needs shelter; Julian shares his hut. Then he asks him food and drink; Julian gives away his meager meal. Next he asks rest; Julian shares his pallet. Finally he asks him warmth; Julian, overcoming his instinctive loathing, takes him in his arms.
The happy ending of the tale: Julian finds himself in the embrace of Christ and caught up into eternal life.

In my life story — maybe yours too — I want to ask Jesus, “Lord, if someone asks my help, how often must I respond to him? As many as seven times?”
“No,” his answer will be, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times.” Your concern, your charity, your love must know no bounds.
I guess we all know the answer. It’s living the answer that is so hard.
What do I do Lord, if his needs seem to have no end?
What do I do Lord, if he never stops asking me?
What do I do Lord, if helping him consumes all that I have?
What do I do Lord, if he takes not only my money but my time?
What do I do Lord, if response to his needs take my blood, my sweat, and my tears?

This is my commandment: love one another as I love you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.

For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.

There are no limits to the human needs the media spread before our eyes. There are no limits to the appeals to our charity. May there be no limits to our love.


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 18:4, October 1992)