Thursday of the Second Week of Lent

Lectionary: 233

More tortuous than all else is the human heart,

beyond remedy; who can understand it?

In my conversation with Veterans in the substance abuse rehab program, on the topic of narcissism, I offer this quote from the Spanish philosopher, Miguel de Unamuno, 1864-1936

Anguish is that which makes consciousness return upon itself. He who knows no anguish knows what he does and what he thinks, but he does not truly know that he does it and that he thinks it. He thinks, but he does not think that he thinks, and his thoughts are as if they were not his. Neither does he properly belong to himself.

For it is only anguish, it is only the passionate longing never to die, that makes a human spirit master of itself.

Education should teach us to think critically; that is, to understand that some ideas are better than others. We should be able to consider and weigh ideas, one against another, and select those we consider better. Education should train us to understand that people have different ideas. They may have disagreements large and small. Education, in a word, should teach us anguish. I know what I know, I know that I know it, and I know other people disagree with me.

The narcissist doesn't know that other people exist, much less that they might have different or better ideas. Or that their experience might give them a very different approach than the narcissist's. The narcissist knows that his opinion is the only correct opinion; everyone else is misinformed, stupid or evil.

Narcissists don't know that they know because there is no one to disagree with them. If you are dealing with one, you know you're wasting your breath when you offer an insight or tell a story.

Jeremiah may have been pondering a similar mystery when he considered the tortuous human heart. It is "beyond remedy; who can understand it?"

Today's parable of the rich man and Lazarus describes this unfortunate man, one who is so wholly absorbed in himself he cannot see a starving, dying man just outside his front door. When, in his torment, he does notice the fellow he sees only a slave who should risk an impassable chasm and fiery Gehenna to "dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue."

Nor can he hear the gentle reminder of Abraham that he, the rich man, had created the unbridgeable canyon, dined sumptuously each day, neglected Moses and the prophets, and failed to care for the needy. He had made his own bed; now he must lie in it.

The suffering narcissist will not listen to reason, as he never did. Nor will he stop arguing. But the story ends with Abraham's pronouncement, "neither will they be persuaded if someone should rise from the dead.'" With the word they he seems to be turning away from the lost soul; there's no point in talking to him.

Liberation theology, back in the 1960's, showed how the wealthy cannot hear, see or comprehend the viewpoint of the poor. This disability has been demonstrated and studied often since then. Sixty Minutes once showed two people playing Monopoly -- one player with two dice, the other with only one. The player with two dice crossed "Go" more often and collected more money. The other lost the game, predictably. But the winner insisted he had won fair and square. He could not see the unfairness of the situation. He played hard, he managed carefully, he traded shrewdly, why shouldn't he be the winner?

He suffered no doubt -- or anguish -- about his victory.

To return to our parable and Unamuno's statement: "...For it is only anguish, it is only the passionate longing never to die, that makes a human spirit master of itself." The unfortunate rich man never knew he would die. He assumed he should always live in luxury and security. Given that ignorance, death meant nothing to him. He could not suffer the "passionate longing never to die."

With Lent we ponder our uncertainty, our lack of faith and fidelity. We pause to feel anguish about our frailty, brevity, and contingency. I don't have to be here; I was not always here and will not always be here. At any moment I might vanish. Will anyone notice? How will I be judged? What am I worth in the eyes of God?

The rich man ignored Moses and the prophets. He couldn't be bothered with warnings about his self-indulgent stupidity. Wealthy, he considered himself the most clever of men. Hadn't he earned his success? Even his arguing with Abraham proves -- to him -- his cleverness.

Nor could his human spirit become master of itself. He is the slave of his own needs. In Hell, of his thirsty tongue.

Americans today are confronted by thousands of beggars at our southern gate. These would-be immigrants have suffered the effects of our drug imports, gun exports, exploitative business practices and climate change as their coffee plantations wither. Having no where else to flee, they run toward the source of their distress only to find impenetrable barriers.

Many Americans, predictably, turn a deaf ear. Within sight of great distress they suffer no anguish. Jesus's parable ends badly for the wealthy.