Accentuate the Positive

When I was a kid they told me that “Eskimos” greet each other by rubbing noses. How peculiar, I thought, why don’t they shake hands?
Older, but no wiser, I learned that American “Indians” greet each other by holding up one hand, palm out, saying “How.” How peculiar, I thought, why don’t they shake hands?
Much later, I came to know that Japanese greet each other by bowing one to the other, that French men (and Arabs) kiss one another on both cheeks and that in India hands are joined in front, as though in prayer, with a slight inclination of the head by way of saying hello.
How peculiar, I then thought, that I was taught to clasp right hands and jerkily move them up and down once or twice by way of greeting — an old tradition that showed that I held no weapon!
Naturally, in my youthful, blissful ignorance, I never questioned greeting the Lord in church by genuflecting on one knee — traditional Western court style. But it certainly seemed odd that in Byzantine churches one reverenced the Lord by bowing so low as to touch the floor — traditional Eastern court style.
And, an altar server kissing hats and hands, rings and books was the most normal thing in the world — my world, that is!
The first moral of these little examples is don’t misunderstand and be put off by superficial, cultural differences. There are limitless different ways of expressing the same good intentions and the same good will.
Another, positive moral of the examples is the importance of respect for cultural differences and of recognition and understanding of the good intentions and the good will that underlies them.

I was deeply struck and deeply moved by the 13 October 2007 open letter to the heads and leaders of Christian churches by 138 Muslim scholars, jurists and religious leaders.
Painfully aware of the increasing and increasingly deadly misunderstandings between Muslims and Christians, they explained that the most important words we have from the prophet Muhammad are consonant with those from Moses and Jesus.
Notwithstanding differences among Hebrew, Greek, Aramaic, and Arabic — and in spite of the stylistic differences of the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim holy books — there is a substantial core to their teachings that is the same.
Since God is one, it should be so.
If the one God sends different messengers to different people in different times and different places, then the messages cannot contradict each other. If it seems so, the fault lies with us. It must be due to our human failings, prejudices, misinterpretations, and misunderstandings.
Are there real and substantial differences in belief among Jews, Christians, and Muslim? Of a certainty. But as our Muslim brothers and sisters affirm, there are fundamental, real, and substantial commonalities, too.
When Jesus once was asked by a teacher of the law of Moses what was the greatest commandment of the law, he named two: Love God with all your heart, soul, and mind and love your neighbor as yourself. Jews believe it. Christians believe it. Muslims believe it, too.


(Published as “Hello” in
one, 34:1, January 2008)

Lamech’s Policy

Although the book of Genesis doesn’t call him that, I think Lamech is the archetypical Middle Eastern “tough guy.” Identified as one of Cain’s great, great grandsons — and the father of Noah — Lamech seems to celebrate the violence of his patrimony. His boast is:

I have killed a man for wounding me, a boy for bruising me. If Cain is avenged sevenfold, then Lamech seventy-sevenfold.

Is Lamech’s policy too brutal and harsh? Does he overreact to provocation? What are his real motives? Personal pride? Family honor? Prevention of some greater evil?
Let’s try to give Lamech the benefit of the doubt. The deeds he describes prima facie seem indefensible. But, we don’t know the background and circumstances that led to his course of action.
Perhaps in the world of Lamech, the slightest perception of weakness on his part would make him vulnerable to an overwhelming attack. Maybe the only safeguard for him and his people was his decisive, almost preemptive actions.
In the ancient Middle East — and throughout the Middle East even today — vengeance is considered a virtue. A man, a family, or a clan that does not seek vengeance for harm done is without honor. Retaliation is not just an option; it is an obligation.
In situations of conflict and violence, each of the parties may consider himself as the one offended and entitled to revenge. And so, all can be trapped in an endless cycle of injury and retaliation.

Most ancient Middle Eastern law codes tried to regulate retaliation and moderate the rights and duties of revenge. For example, the book of Leviticus says:

Whoever takes the life of any human being shall be put to death; whoever takes the life of an animal shall make restitution of another animal. A life for a life! Anyone who inflicts an injury on his neighbor shall receive the same in return. Limb for limb, eye for eye, tooth for tooth!

This is a norm of proportionality: the retaliation should not exceed the original injury. But, this rule is still not enough to break the endless cycle of violence.
Jesus proposes a radical solution: that we freely renounce our right to revenge and rely on the power of love:

. . . offer no resistance to one who is evil. When someone strikes you on your right cheek, turn the other one to him as well . . .love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your heavenly Father, for he makes his sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust.

Whoever practices this policy risks much and, humanly speaking, may lose! But, nothing ventured, nothing gained.
The choice is Lamech’s policy or love.


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 22:3, May 1996)

Tokens of Love

It wasn’t a very elegant entrance into the holy city of Etchmiadzin. We had all piled into a jeep that morning in the Armenian mountain town of Ashotzk. The papal nuncio was driving, Cardinal Silvestrini was in the front seat, and Msgr. Gugerotti and I bounced along in the back.
We thought we had an 11 A.M. appointment with Catholicos Vasken I, Supreme Patriarch of All the Armenians, and we were running a little late.
Well, we did have an appointment, but not as we thought.
Cardinal Silvestrini, Prefect of the Congregation for Eastern Churches, had requested an audience with the Catholicos for our small Vatican delegation. The Cardinal’s mission—to present him with a special gift from Pope John Paul II, relics of the holy Apostles Bartholomew and Thaddeus.
As we pulled into the precincts of the Catholicosate and headed towards the office of the Catholicos, the great bells of the cathedral began to peal in celebration. We hastily got out of our jeep and arranged our robes for what clearly was a major liturgical reception.
A procession of Armenian Apostolic clerics met our quickly improvised entrance procession bearing the reliquaries of the two apostles. Reverently accepting the relics from our hands — Msgr. Gugerotti and I bore them — they led us into the cathedral.
The Catholicos awaited us at his throne with all the bishops of Armenia grouped around him. Bishops, priests. and deacons were solemnly vested. A magnificent choir chanted while the relics were placed on the altar amid candles and flowers.

We were shown to places of honor to either side of the Catholicos. His firm words belying his frail appearance, Vasken I welcomed us bearers of these holy relics with great emotion.
Just as the Church of Rome is founded on Saints Peter and Paul, he said, so the Church of Armenia traces its faith to Saints Bartholomew and Thaddeus. Just as the Apostles were brothers in Christ, so must be the churches founded by them.
Truly we were received as brothers in Christ, notwithstanding all the ancient misunderstandings, competitions, and separations between the two churches.
The movement for the reunion of the Churches is called ecumenical. It springs from the special impulse of the Spirit of Christ who prayed that all may be one.
Usually its practitioners are canonists and theologians who, often in elaborately orchestrated dialogues and meetings, carefully analyze points of difference and propose formulas for mutual agreement.
The warmth of the experience of Etchmiadzin made me think yet once again how much ecumenism really is more a matter of the heart than of the mind, a matter of friendship and love.
There is a time for dialogue, but there is a time for embracing too. Don’t just tell me you’re my friend — show me! Let your actions speak loud and clear. Come to me, talk to me, spend time with me — give me tokens of your love.


(Published in
Catholic Near East, 20:4, July 1994)

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)