Advent Letter -- Gentleness

20 November 1984
To Each Confrere

Of the Christmas gifts of a lifetime, perhaps the ones we remember the best are those which came as a surprise to us. The Incarnation is God's greatest gift to humankind. While the prophets foretold the coming of the Messiah, no one dreamt that the gift would be God Himself in person. Then in Bethlehem one night God revealed the gift. The story of the event has never lost its freshness, at least for those who have become, or are trying to become by the grace of God, as little children. The gift God gave was a child. Is that the reason why it is only those who have become as little children, who will enter into His Kingdom?

God broke into time gently. "When all things were in quiet silence and the night was in the midst of its course, Thy almighty Word leaped from heaven, from the royal throne... ." (Wis 18:14-15). There is a gentle and poignant pathos in St. Luke's observation that the Virgin Mary brought forth her child and laid him in a manger "because there was no room for them in the inn." (Lk. 2:7). The statement is devoid of harsh criticism. There is gentleness, too, in the call of the shepherds and the Magi to come and adore the newborn Child. The wrapping around the gift of the Incarnation is gentleness. In God's remaking of humanity, gentleness as a value can never be discounted.

Of that value St. Vincent has reminded us in our Common Rules. "...by gentleness we inherit the earth. If we act on this we will win people over... . That will not happen if we treat people harshly... ." (CR II, 6). It is gaining the hearts of men, in order to lead them captive to the obedience of Christ, which is central to all work of evangelization. The ultimate citadel that must be captured is the heart of man, which will never surrender to force but only to the power of gentleness. The weapon of gentleness (St. Vincent compares it to one of the five smooth stones of David) is offered to us by Christ. His gentleness is a controlled strength, and it is that controlled strength which can tame our natural aggressivity, hold back the bitter and sarcastic word and temper the rawness of criticism. It is not a virtue to be uncritical. However, let growth in the power of criticism be matched by a growth in gentleness. A bruised reed (and who is not a bruised reed?) must not be broken, much less felled with axes.

In our work of evangelization we may change the convictions of others through discussion and argument. We will, however, only bring about their conversion of heart when we can give evidence to them that we ourselves have through grace and prayer learned from Christ "to be gentle and humble of heart." (Mt 11:29).

It is the strength of gentleness that calms the noisy turbulence of activism within ourselves and makes us dispensers of the mystery of God's peace. It is the strength of gentleness that creates a certain space around us in which others can feel at ease to grow and in which they can feel accepted. To an anxious and fretful generation there are few gifts we can offer that would be more acceptable than the serenity and peace which are the flower of the sturdy root of evangelical gentleness. "Continue, Monsieur," wrote St. Vincent, "to be very docile to the guidance of God and to conform your own way of acting to that of Our Lord. He was always humble, gentle, attentive, and most accommodating to the moods and weaknesses of others, having in view the glory of His Father and the welfare of souls in general and in particular." (Coste IV, Eng. ed., ltr. 1611, pp. 556-557).