1.2.5 – Invidia, Humanitas, and Hope

If the angels were capable of envy, they would envy us for two things: one is the receiving of Holy Communion, and the other is suffering.
Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska

Angelic Jealousy

That’s an interesting premise, isn’t it? Envy is unique to humans – neither animals nor angels possess the capability of envy. Also, the thought that angels would be jealous of humanity seems absurd to me: fighting a constant war waged to stave off evil while waiting for God’s perfect timing on the final battle. The tasks are varied, some fight with swords whereas others bandage warriors and still others keep the spirits of Earthly soldiers up, but everything goes toward the goal of the ultimate fight.

(Quick side bar: angels were given wings, humans were given free will [and the emotions and everything else that accompanies it] instead. We’re different in other ways, but this is the biggest one.)

The first of these two is pretty obvious: if angels can’t receive the Eucharist, they can’t receive Jesus in as full and complete a way as humans can. Catholics in good standing are invited to consume Jesus – body, blood, soul, and divinity – daily. (Daily! We’re required to do so on the Sabbath and other consecrated days, but we’re invited to eat Jesus daily!)

Eucharist, hope, candle, eternity, eternal life, Jesus — The Eucharist is our hope of salvation.

Hope in the Suffering

This level of closeness with God, with the Son of Man – it makes sense that someone who loves God but can’t receive Holy Communion would be jealous. But suffering? Saint-Pope John Paul II both lived serious suffering and wrote about its meaning. Here’s where I “date” myself: I can’t even. I can’t even fathom what he went through let alone figure out how he found purpose in the pain. I’m not there yet; hopefully eventually, but for right now, I’m in progress. He went further, writing that he finds not only purpose in the pain, but also hope.

I often find myself saying, with no trace of melancholy, a prayer recited by priests after the celebration of the Eucharist:
In hora mortis meae voca me, et iube me venire ad te—at the hour of my death, call me and bid me come to you.
This is a prayer of Christian hope, which in no way detracts from the joy of the present, while entrusting the future to God’s gracious and loving care.
Saint Pope John Paul II, Letter … to the Elderly

Hope. Hope is peeking through the window of our suffering because, even if we don’t know why we’re enduring it, we know it has to end at some point. But I’m still searching for something more. Thankfully, Saint-Pope JP-II isn’t the only one who speaks about hope in the darkness; Martin Luther King Junior added something to the conversation that strikes me directly.

Reason for the Darkness

Only when it is dark enough can you see the stars.
Dr. Martin Luther King Junior, I’ve Been to the Mountaintop

This, this I understand. There is reason for the darkness of night. Growing up, one of my fondest memories is of walking in the yard at night, snow piled up on either side of my path, and simply appreciating the stillness and the stars. For a short while, it seemed that I was the only movement anywhere; even just thinking of the experience fills me with peace.

It’s also biologically beneficial for us to sleep in the dark: it not only preserves our circadian rhythm, but it also defends against diabetes, depression, and cancer. So many benefits from sleeping in darkness!

At some point, the sun will rise and peek through the “blackout curtain.”

We have a natural need for the darkness. In the same way, we have a natural need for metaphorical darkness: how could we find the Light if we weren’t surrounded by darkness? And the farther we get from the Light, the darker it needs to get for us to find the Light.

Think about it: if you walk into a well-lit room at high noon, will you even notice if someone is cradling a lit candle? Contrast this with attending an Easter Vigil Mass: we start in the dark of night, in a dark sanctuary, and just one candle is lit. That one candle is visible from anywhere in the building as well as through the windows to anyone standing outside.

Ahhh! I’m getting tingles just thinking about it!

Summary: Hope -> Humanitas = Invidia Counter

Invidia, or envy, is unjustified wanting of something that belongs to another. Humanitas, or kindness and gratitude, counters envy because it calls on us to recognize the inherent dignity of people and act accordingly. Hope inspires us to look for reasons to be grateful; we have our eyes on the prize, and we know that having come so far, we’re that much closer to the goal. Thus, hope helps us with gratitude, which helps us with kindness. Each of these things, severally and together, fight against envy because who has time to be jealous when you’re counting your blessings?

What do you think? What keeps you hopeful, grateful, and kind? Leave me your tips in the comments!

Concentrate on counting your blessings and you’ll have little time to count anything else.
Woodrow Kroll

Song of the Day: Run Devil Run by Crowder

This song has been described as caffeine for your ears. It’s one of my favorites, especially when I need to re-energize my gratitude machine.