Reflection - Right and Just

http://www.usccb.org/bible/readings/012517.cfm
ACTS 22:3-16

Mark 16:15-18

Saul was not exactly what you would call a cultural Jew. He was seriously involved in religious politics. As he himself says: he "was educated strictly in the ancestral law and was zealous for God." The Jewish elders would readily have appointed him as Prefect for the Congregation of the Doctrine of the Faith if there had been such a position in those days, for he earnestly pursued and persecuted Jewish heretics in the early part of the first century even without having an official position. While still young, he witnessed the martyrdom of Stephen the deacon. That incident may well have been his inspiration for the active role he played in hunting down those heretical Jews called Christians. 

This morning we find him ardently engaged in his self appointed task. He had been "to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues in Damascus, that, if he should find any men or women who belonged to the Way, he might bring them back to Jerusalem in chains." Now he was on the road, steadily pursuing those who would corrupt the faith of Israel. This time the offenders would be brought to justice.

The readings complete the story for us. A great light from the sky that compelled Paul to fall to the ground. A voice from heaven, that of the dead man claimed that Paul was persecuting him. A blindness with no apparent cause and a healing for no apparent reason. The details of the incident are remarkable. The subsequent events are well documented and widely known even to this day.

As I read and re-read this passage I found myself wondering, not about the event or its details, but about the life Paul lived in its aftermath. I've never been 'knocked off my horse.' In fact, I've never had a horse to be knocked off of. So I had to meditate at length on what might have prompted Paul to respond with his life the way that he did. I imagined several alternatives that were possible.

He might simply have said: "Sorry about that, Jesus. I won't do it again" and retired from active involvement in religious events of the day.

He might have excused himself, citing his ignorance. "Hey, nobody told me; and besides, the Pharisees made me do it."

He might have just retired from any interaction with the world, thinking to himself "Gee, I'm glad that's over." 

Maybe he could have whitewashed it, blaming the supposed vision on his medical condition: "I hit my head when I fell. No wonder I saw stars and heard voices."

Paul did none of these things. Instead, he got up and allowed himself to be led into Damascus. There he received one from among his enemies, a follower of the Christ. Then, he spent what some might consider an inordinate amount of time in prayer before venturing to meet those called Apostles in Jerusalem. For the rest of his life he proclaimed salvation through the death and resurrection of Jesus, the one he had been persecuting. Why did he do such a thing? I suppose you could say that he continued doing what he had been doing prior to that incident in the road.  But that would be a distortion of what actually happened. From my point of view, the alternatives mentioned earlier were much easier; and he was never told to do what he did.

The Spirit has a knack for answering questions with something readily available. I had intended to read a sci-fi novel from my I-Pad while I was on the treadmill, but it's battery needed charging. Consequently, I was looking around for some book of interest that would easily lay open while my hands were otherwise occupied. By chance ??? No, by design I picked up a small volume by C.S. Lewis titled The Abolition of Man. It's more of a long essay than a book and it fit my requirements --- something of interest that would easily lie open on its own. In just the first few pages I found the answer to my question.

Lewis begins the section with a question: "Can you be righteous unless you be just in rendering to things their due esteem?" This was a meaningful question for the Classical Greek philosophers as well as the early Fathers of the church. In ordinary language the question might go like this: Is it possible to be a person of virtue and fail to give each and every object the esteem which is properly it's due? St Augustine referred to this as properly ordered love. Sounds a bit heady, huh? But it's really quite simple. By way of example: it is proper to hate the ugly and praise beauty. The same can be said of lies as opposed to truth, injustice as opposed to justice, and evil as opposed to goodness. There is a cosmic order to all things; and that means that there is an objective value. Some things really are good and true and just and beautiful. That is a fact which does not need human affirmation to make it so. Others are not. They are evil and false and unjust and ugly. That is also a fact which does not need human affirmation to make it so. This is precisely the error in modern relativism which chooses to define the good and the evil, the ugly and the beautiful, the false and the true, justice and injustice as if men were the source of these eternal qualities and it is by their human choice that they are made what they are.

Paul's response to what happened to him on the road to Damascus became far more understandable to me when viewed in this light. He recognized what he had not been able to see before: Jesus was alive. He had risen from the dead. He was more than just an ordinary human being. Here was a divine mystery and Paul recognized it as such. 

Let me pause for a moment and take a little side trip. Consider with me. The Eucharistic prayer begins with a dialogue between priest and people.

"The Lord be with you"
"And with your spirit."
"Lift up your hearts."
"We lift them up to the Lord."

The priest then introduces the great theme of the Eucharist:

"Let us give thanks to the Lord, our God."

And how do we respond? We respond with words --- these words:

"It is right and just." Or to put the response into a full sentence: It is right and just that we should give thanks to the Lord, Our God.

Paul responded with his life. He couldn't just say "Sorry about that." Or "My bad." Or "Hey, let's just forget it." Paul met Jesus, the Lord, a dead man who now lived. Paul had an intimate encounter with the creator of all on that dusty dirt road leading into Damascus. Paul was a man of virtue even as that virtue deceived him into persecuting Christians. His righteousness led him respond to the experience with the homage it was properly due. He had an encounter with the one whose very presence is love and forgiveness, whose very being is truth and beauty, justice and goodness. How else was he to respond except to say: It is truly right and just and proper that I should give thanks to the Lord, my God and bless him in every way. For Paul, the right and just and proper way was to deliver this Good News to all who would listen.

There is an eternal reality beyond mankind. He is the source of all that is meaningful, all that we hold dear, all that we so deeply desire to embrace. Paul was blessed with a strength of character that compelled him to acknowledge and proclaim the cosmic presence which had come to him. His was an ordered love, a love which recognized the reality that had entered his life. He knew that the proper response was both right and just. 

The question for us, of course, is obvious: what do we proclaim and how do we respond to the presence of Jesus? Is our greatest love ordered to the ultimate good in our lives?