A Day of Wrath.
Wrath is an important concept in the
scriptures, ὀργὴ, appearing ten times in Romans and six in Revelation, the same root
as “orgy”, and “engorge”, the image being that of a desert cucumber that,
apparently, will absorb all the water you pour on it until it bursts. Wrath is
disordered desire, desire that can never be satisfied, desire that spirals out
of control until it destroys you.
Wrath, it must be insisted, is not an
attribute of God, it is something we do to ourselves, but in the scriptures it can
be used by God nonetheless to save us from our death-bound desires, for when we
realise that what we desire can never satisfy us, that is judgement, a moment
of truth that can at last turn us back to the deepest and life-giving desire
for which we were made.
So today is a day of wrath, nothing unique
about that, indeed it has been a time of wrath, but a moment of truth when we
are confronted by our desires that can never satisfy. The membership of a
particular political party, like one bewitched, has elected as its leader a man
of whose gross unfitness for public office they can hardly have been unaware,
and whom Her Majesty the Queen must now, perforce, invite to form a government.
This is a deeply shaming day for this nation.
This is not however a time to jump on the
moral indignation bandwagon but, rather, to reflect on how it has come to this,
and what part we have all had to play. This incipient premiership is a
judgement on our society, a mirror held up to the nation’s soul, reflecting
back to us what we have become: our insatiable desires, our escalating cycle of
consumption and waste, our wanting everything except responsibility for our
actions, our contempt for the poor and marginalised, the easy group security
that comes from scapegoating the outsider, our disregard for truth.
And what is Brexit, this escalating
hostility between Leave and Remain, which has led us to this point (and it isn’t
finished yet), but wrath? A paroxysm of desire, that can never be satisfied, for
the nation-as-idol (or, for that matter, a union-of-nations-as-idol), and that will end up destroying us if we are not saved from
it.
As in the scriptures, often the only way
that we can be saved from our idols is to be thrown back on them, until we
discover that they cannot save us. When we have done the worst to ourselves,
God remains, and the living water is there for us still. But we humans are in
such a pitiable state that we have to drink the bitter cup of wrath to the
dregs before we realise that there is nothing in it for us.
Sisters and brothers, pray that this time
of wrath may be shortened, for it will likely get worse before it gets better.
But do not despair. “Yes, but God”, as my spiritual director often reminds me.
St Augustine knew all about wrath. But he
also knew, much more importantly, about being saved. He is the only person I am
naming in this post, because he, at least, has something of value to say to us.
So here is his word of hope on a day of wrath, his hymn to the God who is still
there when we finally come to our senses, utterly wearied by our death-bound
desires:
“Late have I
loved you, Beauty so ancient and so new, late have I loved you!
“Lo, you were
within,
but I outside,
seeking there for you,
and upon the
shapely things you have made
I rushed
headlong – I, misshapen.
You were with
me, but I was not with you.
They held me
back far from you,
those things
which would have no being,
were they not in
you.
“You called,
shouted, broke through my deafness;
you flared,
blazed, banished my blindness;
you lavished
your fragrance, I gasped; and now I pant for you;
I tasted you,
and now I hunger and thirst;
you touched me,
and I burned for your peace.”
