Vengeance
Sir 27:30—28:7; Ps 103:1-2, 3-4, 9-10, 11-12; Rom 14:7-9; Mt 18:21-35
I once began a homily during a Mass for seminarians by asking them, “When was the last time you got high?” I then told them that my last time was the previous night.
I shared that a former colleague had taken deliberate steps to belittle or circumvent my opinions and suggestions. I knew he didn’t like me and that he would make disparaging comments about me to our colleagues.
He had recently lost his job and I found myself gloating over his misfortune. I even imagined what I would say if he were right there in front of me.
I wasn’t proud to be sharing all of this in the homily, and I’m certainly not proud to be sharing it now.
But part of the reason why my thoughts were so shameful on that night before my homily is because revenge feels good. Neuroscience has found that feelings of revenge release “feel-good” chemicals like dopamine into the brain. It is as if we are getting high on vengeance.
I’m not suggesting that this removes our moral culpability from the matter. We cannot reduce ourselves to mere bags of chemicals. But it is significant to note that thoughts of revenge are accompanied by powerful biological prods that can make the slide down the moral slippery slope all the easier.
As with any sinful behavior, none of us wakes up in the morning and asks: “How can I become more vengeful today?” We choose vengeance because it seems to be providing what we need. Our first reading this Sunday from Sirach states it well: “Wrath and anger are hateful things, yet the sinner hugs them tight” (Sir 27:30).
It is precisely that “hugging tight” that makes revenge so appealing. While it might seem that someone in the throes of vengeance is acting chaotically and without direction, vengeance is a very controlled, and controlling, behavior.
The origins of the word itself point to this. The word “vengeance” derives from the Latin “vindicare,” meaning “to lay claim to.” If I am feeling vengeful toward you, I have already decided what your motivations are and have fixed you into a very specific role in my life. There are no gray areas here, only black and white.
The vengeful heart is an objectifying heart, reducing the target into someone who is no better than the offending behavior that inflamed the vengeance in the first place. The more I think about how I can claim revenge against someone who has hurt me, the easier it becomes to render them as one dimensional, and ultimately to dismiss them.
This dismissal also makes it easier to inflict pain on the person because there is little incentive to feel compassion toward someone who has been cast as an irredeemable opponent whose only purpose is to defeat me.
What would it take for me to release the iron grip that vengeance has on my heart? It requires nurturing a broader perspective of my situation so that I can understand my adversary in their complexity, to appreciate that they have their own set of personal experiences — fears, joys, resentments, graces and so forth — that have contributed to why they are acting as they do.
The attraction of the iron grip of vengeance is that it can introduce a sense of security and order into what might otherwise be a very vulnerable and potentially dangerous relationship.
Why would anyone willingly surrender that apparent source of security? Consider Sirach’s query: “Could anyone nourish anger against another and expect healing from the Lord?” If we truly believed that we could be healed by God from the injury or slight that another had inflicted upon us, then we might let go of the chains of vengeance and let go of our twisted dream of inflicting harm on our tormentor.
If you find yourself struggling with the toxic thoughts and feelings of vengeance, pray for the grace to relinquish control over your relationship with the person. The nature of that relationship will become far less predictable and might feel more risky.
It might even evolve into feelings of authentic compassion. We could all get high on that.