Saturday of the Fourth Week of Lent

 Lectionary: 249

But, you, O LORD of hosts, O just Judge,
searcher of mind and heart,
Let me witness the vengeance you take on them,
for to you I have entrusted my cause!

Several years ago, when I was younger and more adventurous, I was riding my bicycle on a reasonably wide and very straight country road. There was ample room with a wide berm for two lanes of traffic. But as I pedaled, wearing no more protection than a t-shirt and shorts, a car full of teenagers swerved out of their lane to pass within inches of my handlebars. 

I was astonished and angry at the whole group -- I could see some turning around to look back at me as the car passed -- and I cursed them. And then I remembered there was a severe curve about a mile up the road and hoped they'd miss the turn. I went further; I said a prayer that the driver would lose control and the car would flip over. 

That's how I felt about their threat to me, and I said it aloud. All the saints and angels heard me say it in the presence of God. 

But then, as the calm of the open highway returned to my soul, I considered that there was only one person driving the car; and he or she had made the foolish, impulsive decision to terrify me. Not all the riders had wanted him to do that, though they might have said nothing in protest. They probably have parents and relatives who would be grieved at the accident, and would never know about the threat I'd suffered. I began to repent of my prayer. 

I decided to let the Lord choose and exact whatever revenge he should take for what I'd suffered. He would be my champion and defender, and the judge of all. When I got to that treacherous curve there was no evidence of an accident, and I was relieved. 

I've often heard that anger is a sin. I don't believe that. We witness God's wrath in the Old and New Testaments, and we often read about the anger of the prophets and saints, and the avenging angels. 

If we don't get angry enough to do something, an awful lot of things never change. 

Anger may cause me to sin, and for that I am responsible. But I might, in sheer joy, throw a hammer through a window. Elation doesn't make it right; it's just as sinful whether I was mad, sad, or glad when I threw the hammer. 

In today's first reading, we hear Jeremiah's prayer for revenge. We was not a powerful warrior. He seems like a rather smallish fellow, very lonely with his mission, and respected only as an unpopular prophet. When he was abused he felt hurt and angry and wanted revenge. What could be more natural than that? And so he prayed that the Lord would judge between him and his enemies. 

God's people, following the example of Jesus, the prophets, martyrs, and saints, let the Lord be our protecting shepherd. He leads us away from danger and, when necessary drives away the wicked thief, wolf, bear, and lion. If he allows us to suffer, it is with him. And the saints call that a privilege.