Results of Tears

The Catholic Weekly's Wisdom for Life, drawing on the teachings of the Desert Fathers, addresses grief over sin in its recent column by a Benedictine priest. 

May we sink into ‘spiritual sorrow’ filled with hope, not anguish. Emphasizing a heart that weeps in sorrow upon realizing one's sinfulness before God. The greater the longing for 'God's love,’ the more profound the sorrow... ultimately bearing the fruit of joy.

As long as we are human, we cannot avoid sinning. If anyone claims to be without sin, it is a lie and a grave delusion. No one can be completely sinless as long as they remain bound by the ego (false self). Striving to be free from all temptations to sin is our duty. Part of this effort involves constantly remembering and grieving over the sins we have committed. St. James the Apostle says, “Weep and mourn and lament.” (James 4:9)

The Desert Fathers consistently taught that a monk must grieve over his sins. Abba Macarius says, “Sit in your cell and weep over your sins.” When a brother asked Abba what he should do about his sins, he replied: He who desires to atone for his sins atones for them with tears, and he who wishes to obtain virtue obtains it with tears. For weeping is the way the Scriptures and the Fathers have left us, saying, ‘Weep!’ Truly, there is no other way." 

While there were some exceptions, most monks were upright and honest men. Through constant communion with God in solitude, their consciences became purer and more sensitive. Consequently, they felt pangs of conscience over even the most minor sins committed through human weakness. “The closer man draws to God, the more he realizes his own sinfulness.”  Indeed, our hearts are like mirrors: the more we polish them, the more clearly they reflect our own flaws and faults. As the heart becomes clouded with grime, the conscience grows dull. Therefore, the more we polish our hearts to purity, the more sensitive our conscience will become.

Spiritual sorrow is a grief filled with hope, free from anguish. The Desert Fathers wept and grieved out of love for God. 

The Desert Fathers' views on sin varied and could differ. Thus, their methods of penance also differed greatly. For instance, a story is told of two brothers who left the desert to marry. Later, they regretted it, and the Fathers imposed the same penance on them: a year of strict seclusion, living only on bread and water. As the year drew to a close, one man was pale and gloomy, while the other was happy and joyful. 

The former spent the year in fear, dwelling on his own fault and the punishment he deserved, while the latter was filled with joy, grateful that God had delivered him from impurity and thinking of Him. Both cases represent meaningful and valuable forms of repentance. Depending on where one focuses, repentance manifests in different forms, and the resulting outcomes also differ. This likely stems from differing thoughts about sin. In the columnist's view, the second person's approach is more appealing.

There is a Greek word, pénthos, meaning sorrow, lamentation, and contrition. This is a spiritual sorrow distinct from the natural sorrow that brings despair and frustration. 

Spiritual sorrow also springs from an unfulfilled longing. Namely, the longing to be freed from evil, the longing for perfection, the longing for the Kingdom of Heaven, the longing for God Himself. In this sorrow, one still believes that God loves me and will one day grant me all these good things. 

Therefore, spiritual sorrow is sorrow filled with hope, not anguish. This is precisely the sorrow the Desert Fathers speak of. They wept and grieved out of love for God, out of a longing not to wound His heart. They also grieved over their own sins and the sins of others, and wept because they were far from God. Tears are a gift from God. But what matters is not the visible shedding of tears, but the state of the heart. The Desert Fathers understood this well. Tears are merely the outward manifestation of the heart's state.

There is a popular song lyric that says, ‘Love is the seed of tears.’ It is true. What love can there be without tears? But tears shed for love always bear some fruit. Likewise, the tears we shed for God's love also bear fruit. What exactly is this fruit?

First, tears purify the body. The Desert Fathers said, “Tears that come from on high purify and sanctify the body.” Second, tears drive away sin. Abba Longinus experienced great contrition during prayer and psalmody. One day, his disciples asked him, “Abba, is it a rule of the spiritual life for a monk to weep during prayer?” He replied, “Yes, it is a law demanded by God. God created man not for tears, but for joy and happiness, just like the angels. But since man has fallen into sin, he must weep. Where there is no sin, there is no need to weep.” 

Third, tears become a weapon against the devil. Abba Evagrius says, “When a strange thought arises in your heart, do not try to pray in this or that way; sharpen the sword of tears.” Fourth, tears give birth to prayer. Abba Paul said: “I, who am mired up to my neck in the mire, cry out to God: ‘Have mercy on me.’” 

Finally, tears bring joy. St. Syncletica says: “For those who advance toward God, at first there are many struggles and much suffering, but afterward comes an indescribable joy.” 

As Moses the Abba said, if we always remember our faults, weep and mourn, and live as if death were before us, our sorrow, tears, and sighs will bear fruit and ultimately turn into joy. The greater our longing for God’s love grows, the greater our spiritual sorrow will become. Before the majestic God, we humans reveal vast emptiness.

No More Violence

The Catholic Peace Weekly's Philosopher's Chat column invites us to examine the violence we encounter daily in our lives through the eyes of a philosopher.              

The philosopher Hannah Arendt (1906-1975) diagnosed the 20th century as the 'century of violence.' However, this diagnosis seems valid not only for the 20th century but also today. Despite the various kinds of violence frequently occurring around us, threatening our daily lives, people are not only indifferent but even numb to it. The more serious problem is that people perceive these violent situations as normal. As a result, individuals might be exposed to violence without even properly recognizing that they are victims, while perpetrators may engage in violence without awareness. 

Legal punishment often proves to be weak and ineffective. Interestingly, Arendt finds the root cause of this violence in the absence of human 'thought'. She warns that there is an essential relationship between violence and 'thoughtlessness,' and that a society lacking in thought can bring about destruction and violence greater than all the evils combined. According to Arendt, the violent nature of evil seeping into our daily lives is not particularly special but rather even quite banal. Arendt defines this phenomenon as the 'banality of evil.' 

However, if violence arises from the absence of thought, as Arendt claims, why are we unable to engage in normal thought to avoid violence? One contributing factor, as Arendt argues, is that modern society places more importance on impersonal relationships in the 'private sphere' rather than the personal dialogues in the 'public sphere'. 

More specifically, the 'misuse of language', 'lack of empathy for others', and 'blind obedience to power' act as major obstacles to our ability to think correctly. Among these, the misuse of language that distorts facts prevents people from seeing the essence of situations, leading to a lack of empathy and a tendency toward blind obedience.

However, if violence arises from a lack of thought, as Arendt argues, why are we unable to engage in rational thinking to avoid violence? This is partly due to the modern social characteristic that places greater emphasis on relationships in the 'private sphere,' which prioritizes impersonal interactions over the 'public sphere' of interpersonal dialogue, as Arendt asserts. Specifically, 'misuse of language,' 'lack of empathy for others,' and 'blind obedience to power' act as significant barriers to our ability to think correctly.

Among these, the misuse of language that distorts facts serves as the primary factor that conceals and incites violence by preventing people from seeing the essence of the situation, leading to a lack of empathy and blind obedience. Such acts are often politically motivated in modern society and are carried out with the help of the media. The seriousness of the misuse of language lies in the fact that it justifies violent actions, allowing people to commit horrific collective violence against individuals or the masses without any pangs of conscience. 

Language creates certain representations through symbols and meanings, and incorrect representations distort reality. For this reason, we need to pay attention to the misuse of language that conceals and incites violence. To achieve this, it is crucial to expand the public sphere of interpersonal dialogue beyond the private sphere, creating a society where the free expression of opinions is possible. 

As societies where interpersonal dialogue and empathy towards others are exercised tend to reduce violence, we must be particularly vigilant about actions that require blind obedience to power without dialogue, as these can lead to 'totalitarian violence.'We must remain alert and awake against this age of violence. Violence can only be eradicated when we think and judge correctly. To end violence, above all, we must cultivate our own ability to think correctly. Only then can humanity move towards what Jacques Ellul (1912-1994) described as an 'age of recognizing violence'.

Mourning and the Healing Process

 

In the Philosophy Chat column of the Catholic Peace Weekly, the philosophy professor offers some ideas on how to transform grief into healing after loss due to death.

We use the specific term ‘mourning’ when expressing sorrow over the death of a loved one. Mourning generally refers to the emotional act of grieving and remembering the loss, misfortune, or pain caused by another's death. However, in philosophical counseling, mourning specifically denotes the healing process of enduring and overcoming the pain of loss experienced after parting with the loved one.

In Plato's Phaedo, Socrates, facing death after his sentence, urges his weeping disciples to restrain their grief and allow him to meet death with dignity. Thus, sorrow has long been imprinted as a negative emotion to be suppressed, and the act of mourning, grieving, and remembering the dead has also been overlooked in its importance. However, in modern times, it has gained attention alongside a positive evaluation of emotions.

Sigmund Freud (1856–1939) understood mourning in “Mourning and Melancholia” as a psychological process of severing the sorrow arising from loss. Both mourning and melancholia signify a state of suffering from the loss of the beloved. While mourning is a psychological process of regaining a normal self by recognizing reality and detaching from attachment and fixation to the object causing the loss, melancholia refers to abnormal symptoms like self-deprecation, guilt, and delusions arising from the failure of normal mourning. While mourning naturally resolves over time, when the libido invested in the lost object is withdrawn (forgetting), regressive melancholia does not.

Unlike Freud, who distinguished successful normal mourning from failed pathological mourning, Jacques Derrida (1930–2004) argued that success or failure cannot be applied to mourning. Above all, he emphasizes that the essence of mourning lies not in the passive, negative attitude of ‘forgetting’ but in the active, positive attitude of ‘remembering’. Its significance lies in the dead taking root within me through memory, allowing me to maintain a lasting relationship with them. Only through such mourning can the sense of loss be overcome. In other words, mourning is a dialectical process of synthesis: despite the sorrow and grief of losing the deceased, we do not forget them, but rather remember them. Through this ‘negation of negation,’ we form a positive new relationship with the dead.

Roland Barthes (1915–1980) also emphasizes that the catalyst for reversing the loss through absence lies in 'memory.' While forgetting makes the deceased vanish as if they had never existed, only memory can transcend the physical time of death and make the deceased present ‘here and now’. Therefore, even in cases like suicide, we must confront loss with a more active attitude, remembering the deceased. In fact, remembering and commemorating the deceased is precisely what affirms their existence.

Korean Bishops' First Public Statement on a Social Issue

The Catholic Times featured an article on a labor issue to commemorate its centennial anniversary. This incident is significant because it was the first time the Korean Church had officially spoken out on a social issue through a statement from the bishops' conference. 

The details can be summarized briefly. In May 1967, a legitimate labor union was formed at Simdo Textile in Ganghwa Island, with JOC members (Young Christian Workers) from the Ganghwa Parish playing a leading role. Among the 21 textile companies in Ganghwa, some had already established unions. Father Michael Bransfield, a Maryknoll missionary (1929-1989), the then parish priest of Ganghwa, indirectly supported the union activities by allowing them to use the meeting space.

The company president, a member of parliament, not only dismissed the union officials but also forced the protesting workers out of the factory. Other company presidents seized this opportunity to fire active union members. Sixteen of the dismissed workers were all practicing Catholics. The business owners also went so far as to approach the priest, accusing him of being a subversive element who was inciting the workers, and threatened him, holding him responsible for the factory's losses.

They issued a resolution stating that they would not employ any Catholics, and the president of Simdo Textile claimed that 'the factory was paralyzed due to the unfair interference of the priest before announcing a closure. There were instances where workers, instigated by the company owners, gathered at the church to protest. The police chief of Ganghwa, along with the business owners, urged the priest to formally apologize to the employers, citing accusations of violating anti-communist laws. This situation led to divisions not only among the local residents but also among some of the parishioners.

Management attempted to dismantle the union by unlawfully dismissing two members, prompting union members to gather at the Ganghwa Church to hold a meeting on the situation. This time, the police intervened, apprehending about 30 Catholic believers, and the owner of Simdo Textile, along with the head of the Ganghwa police station, threatened Father Bransfield, saying he would be arrested for violating anti-communism laws if he continued to interfere with union activities.

The 'Ganghwa Textile Council,' an association of 21 textile companies in Ganghwa, published a statement in a central daily newspaper declaring that they would no longer hire JOC members. Following this, the management mobilized over 150 workers to protest against Father Bransfield, and the police detained him, demanding an apology. Furthermore, they pressured Bishop William McNaughton, the head of the Incheon diocese, to have Father Bransfield reassigned elsewhere. In this worsening situation, the bishop expressed intense regret through a statement addressed to the management and police authorities, protesting against the infringement of workers' legitimate rights.

The bishop considered this incident as a full-scale repression of the Church, beyond just a simple labor dispute. At the time, the president of JOC was Cardinal Kim Soo-hwan (Stefano), who would be appointed as Korea's first cardinal in 1969. Cardinal Kim assessed the situation and persuaded other bishops, leading the bishops' conference to issue a statement titled 'We uphold social justice and workers' rights' on February 9, 1968. The statement acknowledged the rights of workers to form unions and engage in collective action, reflecting the Church's fundamental stance on labor issues.

Although the bishops' statement might have seemed radical in Korean society at that time, Pope Paul VI sent a letter of encouragement and support to the Korean bishops' conference.

As the consistent protests from the entire Korean church and the support from the Vatican were conveyed, the government eventually stepped in to resolve the situation, leading the textile council, led by Simdo Textiles, to annul previous resolutions and reinstate the dismissed workers. The Ganghwa textile incident was a symbolic event where the Korean church actively expressed its stance on social issues for the first time after the council. Subsequently, the Korean church would assume a prophetic role in various areas of social engagement, including labor issues, democratization, human rights movements, national reconciliation, and the pursuit of social justice, drawing on this valuable experience.

St. Augustine, Church Father

 

August 28 is the Feast Day of St. Augustine, a bishop and scholar revered as a source of church renewal. This year, in particular, the spirituality and teachings of the saint are being newly highlighted with the accession of Pope Leo XIV, the first pope from the Order of St. Augustine. Through a special article of Daegu Catholic University, the thoughts and legacy of St. Augustine convey the significance of Pope Leo XIV's pastoral spirit in leading the universal church today.

On May 8, Pope Leo XIV appeared for the first time on the balcony of St. Peter's Basilica. He introduced himself as follows: “I am the son of St. Augustine (354-430) and a member of the Augustinian Order.” With a smile on his face, he looked out at the world and the crowd and recited St. Augustine's famous words. “For you, I am a bishop, but with you, I am a Christian.” (Sermon 340,1) This is an excerpt from a sermon given by Saint Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, on the anniversary of his episcopal ordination.  

Saint Augustine is quoted almost without exception in the new pope's speeches and homilies, and his influence is vividly evident in his writings and pastoral mottos. Who exactly is Saint Augustine?

It has been said that all ancient thought flows into Saint Augustine, and all later doctrinal traditions flow from him. (Pope Paul VI, May 4, 1970, speech at the opening ceremony of the University of Saint Augustine in Rome) It is also said that the path of Western Christianity and culture converges on Saint Augustine's diocese of Hippo and spreads out from there. 

What significance does St. Augustine, who passed away 1,600 years ago, have for us today? St. Augustine and other Church Fathers provided numerous inspirations and pastoral sources for the Second Vatican Council (1962–1965), which became the driving force behind the modern Church's renewal. This is because the Church Fathers are the source of the “sacred tradition” that is connected to the Bible.

After the council ended, Pope Paul VI (1897–1978), who deeply felt the need for patristic studies, entrusted the Augustinian Order with establishing and operating a patristic research institute. Finally, in 1970, the Augustinian Patristic Institute opened with the blessing of Pope Paul VI. 

Pope Leo XIV served as rector of this university from 2001 to 2013, and the patristic professors who teach there are his fellow monks. Pope Leo XIV, who specialized in canon law, taught canon law and patristics at a seminary in Peru, which was also a result of this tradition.

The heart pierced by an arrow and the book in the papal coat of arms are symbols of the Order of Saint Augustine. They represent Saint Augustine's confession, “You have shot an arrow into our hearts with your love, and we have been pierced by your words” (Confessions 9,2,3). The Pope's pastoral motto is taken from Psalm 127:3, written by the saint. The four-word Latin phrase seems simple at first glance. Literally translated, it means “In that One, we are one.” The Episcopal Conference's translation office considered the context and translated it as “In Christ, who is one, we are one.”

However, this short sentence contains St. Augustine's theory of “Totus Christus” (the whole Christ). Jesus Christ is the head of the Church, and we are His members; however, even after His resurrection and ascension, He continues to experience the suffering of the Church through trials, temptations, poverty, and deprivation in this world. Jesus, the head, is not resting on his heavenly throne, but is still suffering with his members, united with humanity from head to toe. The head is not separate from the body, nor is Christ separate from Christians. It is not that he is one and we are many, but that “in Christ, we are one.” This is the pastoral motto chosen by Pope Leo XIV.

In the following passage, St. Augustine concludes, “Therefore, Christ, who is both head and body (Christus caput et corpus), is one person.” The saint who taught us, “We are the Church!” goes further and proclaims, “We are Christ!” “We have not only become Christians, but we have become Christ Himself. We have become Christ!”  This is the amazing insight of St. Augustine, which Pope John Paul II also emphasized: that you, I, and all of us are one Christ.

Pope Leo XIV will embrace all brothers and sisters in the world, as well as the poor and suffering, as Christ did, with the pastoral vision of “We are all one Christ!”

“In Illo Uno Unum” (In Him We Are One). Is the Pope's motto.

St. Augustine is the Church Father who left behind the most writings. His masterpiece, Confessions, has become a classic loved by many. However, the saint is not an old man in a classic. His words and writings are both old and new. For example, Pope Francis revised paragraph 2267 of the Catechism of the Catholic Church, which refused to abandon the exceptional inevitability of the death penalty, and clearly stated that “the death penalty is... unacceptable.” This occurred in 2018. In correcting this doctrine, Pope Francis drew extensively on the teachings of Saint Augustine. He frequently relied on the authority of the Church Fathers 

As Saint Vincent of Lérins (c. 445) said, doctrine grows. Just as a child grows into an adult, so too does doctrine grow and mature. Thanks to Pope Francis, who reintroduced and reinterpreted St. Augustine and other Church Fathers of this era, including Lactantius (c. 250–325), the Church finally came to possess a more mature and evangelical doctrine on capital punishment. Thus, the vast yet straightforward teachings of Saint Augustine will serve as an inexhaustible source of renewal for Pope Leo XIV and the Church. 

Dealing with Doubt

A seminary professor, in his column on spirituality, offers some guidance on overcoming doubts in daily life.

It is said that the following words were inscribed on the tombstone of a certain hypochondriac: “See, I told you so!” Was he right? Did he contract a fatal illness, just as he feared? Or did his doubts cause mental illness, which in turn harmed his body?

During his time studying abroad, the professor once fell into a deep state of doubt. Especially after he started feeling sick. He couldn't sleep properly, and strange bodily symptoms began appearing. He wondered if he had contracted a serious illness. It was health anxiety. He lived in a constant state of gloom, and his fellow students would ask, “Still struggling?” They tried to pull him out of his depression, but he was overcome by doubt. It took a long time to escape that doubt.

As everyone experiences, humans are weak beings who often fall into doubt, which possesses tremendous power and dominates us. The more you doubt, the more doubts pile up one after another. The more you fight against your doubting self, the more you get trapped in it and sink deeper into doubt. Yet the Lord, who draws good even from evil, does not abandon us in our doubt. He guides us to confront and overcome it.

Doubt has many stages. There is a simple doubt about facts, a doubt that refuses to trust in people, and finally, a doubt about the very foundation of existence. Is there meaning to life? Does God exist? Or do I simply return to nothingness with death?

Because human existence itself is uncertain, doubt always lingers beside us, within us. This holds true even for people of faith. When great trials strike, when confidence and certainty vanish amid tribulation, when we suffer from illness or the threat of death, when only a bleak tomorrow seems visible, when hope feels far removed—we fall into profound depression. This doubt stems from the loss of faith that the Lord is with us, the loss of hope that the Lord will care for and protect us to the end. Ultimately, doubt is also a matter of hope. Even Jesus sought God on the cross. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27:46)

Where is hope, and how can we find it? "Take courage. Do not be afraid." (Mark 6:50) Since the Lord is with us, let us not fear but entrust all our worries and anxieties to Him. 

At a reunion of a Holy Land pilgrimage group, a nun shared: "Throughout the pilgrimage, my heart felt heavy and uneasy. But while visiting Assisi, standing before the bed where Saint Clare passed away, with just a single candle lit and a single flower placed there, in her simple passing, in that humble bedroom, I saw hope. Right then, my heart felt at peace, and I felt hope blossoming."

Her words were that hope sprouts from emptying, erasing, and letting go. Ultimately, isn't the reason we cannot entrust everything to God because we cannot empty, discard, and let go? Is that not why we fail to find hope and instead doubt? Detachment once again illuminates our dark night path. This poverty is a source of hope.

Understanding Intersubjectivity

The Jesuit professor in the Catholic Peace philosophical chat column provides an understanding of the many ways we can open ourselves to a larger world. 

We refer to an existence other than ourselves as the 'other.' However, the other carries more profound philosophical implications. We cannot imagine a world without the other, and the other becomes a major catalyst for self-awareness and self-recognition.

The concept of the other became a philosophically important subject after Edmund Husserl (1859-1938) presented the intersubjectively shared self and the other. [Intersubjectivity describes the shared understanding that emerges from interpersonal interactions]

According to Martin Buber (1878-1965), humans exhibit two attitudes in relating to the world: 'I-Thou' and 'I-It.' The former treats the other as a unique personal being, while the latter objectifies and instrumentalizes the other. When humans relate to the other as an individual being of I-Thou, they can engage in genuine dialogue and realize themselves through the other’s presence.

Philosophers who spoke about this are Jean-Paul Sartre (1905-1980) and Emmanuel Levinas (1906-1995). Sartre views the other as a conflicting being opposing me; Levinas sees the other as a transcendent entity to whom we must extend absolute hospitality.

Sartre argues that the Other comes to me primarily as an uncomfortable and disconcerting gaze. The gaze of the other objectifies and limits my freedom by making me an object. As I am observed by others, I become the object of observation, which fundamentally triggers feelings of shame. However, recognizing myself as an object in the world of the other with this uncomfortable gaze leads me to strive to become a truly free subject in relation to the other. In this conflict with the other, we confront the other as intersubjective beings.

In contrast, Levinas focuses on the Other not as a being that causes conflict through an uncomfortable gaze, but rather a being we must actively welcome. Levinas emphasizes, above all, the transcendence and incomprehensibility of the Other, which is absolutely beyond my understanding. The Other is an existence that cannot be understood through knowledge or concepts, and as a being that is essentially different from me.

Thus, the Other exists in a manner that is completely 'different' from me and invites me to be a subjective being. If we refuse to acknowledge this difference of the Other or merely see it as an object of confrontation and struggle, the path to truly becoming oneself will be far away. This is because the otherness of the Other is the most important catalyst for human beings to recognize themselves and to have their subjectivity.