God in the World

And the power of blood that cries to heaven

God’s presence is in the blood of the innocent. In Ukraine, Israel and Palestine, God is especially present today in ways humanity has not yet come to terms with. This mysterious divine presence is a presence of judgment, justice and of mercy that turned the hearts of men back from the brink in the 20th Century. Now, the Lord of Hosts returns in force.

When blood cries out to God, the Lord of Life comes in power. Within the last month, refugees huddled in an orthodox Church were bombed to death in Gaza not unlike the Catholics gathered in Nagasaki some eighty years before. In both cases, no matter the tactical convenience and strategic goal, the fact remains: defenseless people were killed in a place of prayer.

The reason those of us who support Israel’s effort to protect herself cannot dismiss this. When we do what is evil, no matter the evil we inflict on others, we harm ourselves all the more. This is part of the evil of war. Just as America must reckon for her sin against Nagasaki, so too Israel for hers against Gaza. But the blood that brings God reminds America, Israel and others who have sinned in the haze of war, that He comes, not only divine judgment and justice, but also divine mercy.

Because the Lord is present, the blood of the baptized is not meaningless even when it is spilled in a meaningless way. The presence of the Lord always brings with it the mystery of atonement, a mystery of hope. United by faith to the Suffering Servant even as the walls of God’s house shattered, the prayers of the faithful were raised to God in their last life breath. They made this offering to the Lord as members of His Mystical Body whether consciously or not. This is to say that the confusion and terror of the moment did not define what God was doing in their hearts. A more powerful mystery was at work in them than the violences unleashed on them. The terrible agony of these Christians, and others sheltered with them, joined with that of the Lamb of God to bear away sin - the sin of the nations and even the sin of Israel. Such was the mystery realized too by the Catholics gathered for mass in Nagasaki whose final offering in this life became a sacrifice for peace. God knows this secret truth in innocent blood and constantly raises to Himself.

Violence cannot bear away violence, but prayer alone bears away sin to end wars. Whenever one bears evil with love and prayer, God is given space for a new outpouring of divine power into a world that needs salvation. Whenever one forgives or seeks forgiveness, an irresistible force is put in motion. Such forgiveness is impossible for the unaided human will, but when we cry to God, He turns injury into compassion and intercession. This is how Christians follow their crucified Master through the vicissitudes of human history.

We know that, because of the witness of the saints, by joining our prayers to theirs, what happened to those orthodox Christians in Gaza opens up a floodgate of hope not only for Palestinians and Jews, but for the whole world. For those whose Christian faith is explicitly Eucharistic, this means when we remember them at mass, Christ takes their sacrifice and joins it to Himself for the salvation of the world. By such faith, no matter the misery, the death of the Lord’s beloved always opens up new frontiers of mercy.

It’s about the peace of Jerusalem. The greatest existential threat to Israel has never been military foes or governments intent on her destruction though they be. A deeper principle prowls like a lion waiting to devour the Daughter of Zion. In every heart there is a drive to deicide, a secret wish to bring about the death of the Creator. Since the tumult of the nations does not penetrate heaven, the Chosen People are historically the object of this particular hatred. This means that social, political, and cultural hatred of Jews is animated by an even deeper hatred of God. In the perfection of eternal love, God bears this hatred with great love and patience.

The impulse to remake the world without God compels instigators of anti-semitic violence in ways that they themselves do not understand. This urge incubates fury all the more intense when hidden under righteous indignation and heartless calculation. Because of its specifically theological gravity, the deadly disease of anti-semitism is one against which every human being, even Jews, must be on guard. When we discover this hatred, even in our own hearts, it is time to cry to God. He gives power over evil - He bears away the sin that we suffer - whether as individuals or as peoples.

There are moments when this hatred manifests itself in widespread torrents of rage. War and atrocities grab hold of humanity to threaten its very existence - for when we who are in the image and likeness of God vent against Him, we always vent against ourselves. The very violence that would seem to eclipse God’s presence brings to light the sorry state of the world and the terrible misery from which humanity needs deliverance. A world without God, without a Deliverer, is always dehumanizing. Such hatred, even when self-hatred, discloses hostility that can be overcome at only great cost.

Hell has the upper hand as long as deadly self-contradictions take hold of souls ignorant of their own proclivities to violence. Doors are opened to super intelligent powers whose ancient misanthropy directs this destruction with unnaturally cold cunning. Unleashed unimaginable evil always seems so justified in the moment. Ghosts of unintended consequence and dehumanizing shame haunt only after. Intoxicated by hate filled narratives, reason deaf to muffled screams of conscience cannot perceive resentment receding to fear and despair. The disdain that drives mercy out of the world would seem unanswered for. Yet, blood offered in prayer calls to question whether this is really the case.

Truth lives in the blood of prayer. When we find ourselves caught up in currents of rancor and strife, we first want to deny it. We cannot accept that we are the authors of such a betrayal of our own dignity let alone responsible for the plight of those who were the object of our indulgent wrath. As was so with Cain, questions of “Am I my brother’s keeper?” soon become “What ferocity consumed my soul?” and “Is there still a place for me in the world?” Such questions bear witness that my responsibility to my brother and my place in the world are profoundly connected realities. The prayers of Pearl Harbor and Nagasaki, synagogues throughout central and southern Israel and the Church in Gaza come together as a horizontal beam fastened to the vertical descent of a God who will not forsake His children. It is under this cruciform shadow that a man comes to his senses, and the mystery of Israel is the original keeper of this Holy Ground.

To this end, God who is not limited to powerful displays allows Himself to be encompassed by the patient endurance of the most vulnerable. He is with the hostage and prisoner, the dying patient and exhausted nurse, the shell shocked soldier and the grieving mother. So does He abide in the blood of the innocent even in the face of reckless carnage. Thus, when the innocent take the brunt, God endows them with his own power and authority so that in death they might become a source of life. When believers die in prayer, something more eloquent than the blood of Abel is unleashed in the world.

If she is hated, the People who belong to the Lord of Hosts still remind humanity of God’s freedom of election, the sacred order in which He establishes his creation and his divine sovereignty over the nations of the world. It is this Divine Presence that keeps the world a beautiful place of blessing even in the face of violence. Yet the history of Israel, a microcosm for the whole history of humanity, shows how easy it is to turn away from the greatness of one’s own high calling. This is why Israel needs prayer.

In the face of the evils perpetrated against her, Israel needs prayer to fight with the restraint that her privileged place in the world demands or she will betray her very mystery. Higher standards are expected of more noble nations if only out of faithfulness to their own dignity. All the more so for the original People of the Promise. In the mystery of Israel, restraining justice with mercy helps even enemies remember that shared image and likeness that God has willed should exist. So prayers for the peace of Jerusalem are offered that the foundations for a future reconciliation be deepened with those other of God’s children for whom the Holy Land is home.

Without Divine Help, how could anyone restrain their anger in the face of evil? How can anyone forgive or seek forgiveness? How can brothers ever be reconciled? How can wars end? Yet, the Father humbly receives the prayer and sacrifice offered in blood to bear away sin until his blessing makes such restraint, forgiveness and reconciliation possible. It is in the context precisely of mercy tempered justice that the presence of God in the world discloses itself with salvific force.

We can suffer the blood that flows with peace because the God of the Living suffers it the more. Only the eloquence of blood speaks into extent to which the Living God will go to find us: He searches the gutters of life until he finds us beaten and left for dead. He binds our fragmented souls and carries them to safety. He pays any price until we are whole. So He drinks the cup… so He offers it.

Pouring out our lives in prayer allows us to receive the life God offers to us. Mercy tempered justice would be impossible, my brother’s blood unheard, and my place in the world lost forever but for the still small voice of God who yet searches for us on the horizons of life. Yes, the blood of our brothers and sisters cries out once again as did the blood of Abel and in that cry, God too cries and groans for the grieving. In a wordless gasp, He calls us out of the cave of shame to stand before His presence so that He might address us face to face. Such a meeting is not to rage against prodigal children but to cover in robes, to offer shoes, to give rings, to invite from death to life, to lead back into the household until brothers might at last find peace around the table of the Lord, might at last share that overflowing cup.

So we go to Mass, lift up our hearts, and assist in the offering. The souls of the faithful departed, the souls who died in prayer, are joined with us. Together, with them we know in humanity’s darkest hour, God’s presence in the world is in the blood.