chapter 1
Introduction
Invited to Write
The tenderness of God . . . these simple words are so great, so far beyond understanding, so holy, that there is little to do but prostrate oneself on the ground in silence! Such a subject certainly cannot be approached as simply a theme for reflection to satisfy our intellectual curiosity; it is a mystery, an unfathomable mystery, which plunges us into the depths of the heart of God.
The tenderness of God; the subject is enough to cause oneās lips to be sealed forever in humble silence.
I would never have dared to speak of such a great mystery had I not been invited to do so by my spiritual father, Father Etienne, who one day said to me simply, āYou know, Daniel, it would be good if you spoke to us about the tenderness of God.ā I accepted this word in profound silence and I prayed . . .
It took me many years of preparation to be able write what follows, but I have to own, reader friend, that I am very glad I took on this task; I have received so much in the process. Also, I believe it is very important for our modern world to lift its eyes towards the mystery of the humble and modest tenderness of God. There is not very much material which speaks in this way.
The Thirst for Tenderness
Another factor that impels me to write is the thirst for tenderness among the people around us; there are so many, young and old, who are ready to undertake almost anything, do anything, no matter what, because of this longing; and for so many of them, young and old, it becomes a hopeless search; they never suspect, far less know, that the most extraordinary tenderness is Godās, that the very source of all tenderness is in him. When I think about this yearning and of the many ways people can go wrong, I realize for myself how marvelous it is to be able to go to the source and draw directly from him; to be able to drink in silence from God himself and, as I prepared to write, to seek from him the words that would convey the great, hidden beauty of his tenderness.
Lord my God, I know myself quite unworthy to enter even a little into the mystery of yourself; have pity on me and help me! Lead me by your Holy Spirit! Keep me from obscuring your secrets when I need to express the inexpressible!
The Father through the Son and in the Holy Spirit
Before approaching and examining some biblical texts in which the tenderness of God is to some extent unveiled, it seems a good idea to prepare ourselves with some introductory remarks that may help, I hope, to open us up a little, with the help of the Holy Spirit.
Christ is the very incarnation of the tenderness of God; he, in absolutely first place, reveals it to us, and it is surely with him that we must begin. He reveals it to us in his teaching, in his actions, his attitudes, in his manner of life. His being itself is steeped in the tenderness of the Father, with a great sense of modest reserve which wonderfully reflects the reserve of his Father; this is something we should be able readily to understand because tenderness and reserve are just as inseparable in us. Jesus comes, then, to transmit with an overflow of humility the tenderness of his Father; the main difficulty for me is to arrive at a proper respect for this and treat it with appropriate care. You can see the extent to which I feel the obstacles to elaborating the subject; I can only ask the Lord to help me not to spoil anything or do anything that might in any way tarnish what is beyond understanding.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me!
Christās tenderness becoming incarnate means it is certainly more accessible to us than that of his Father; it became flesh of our flesh. It opens us up and leads us to that of the Father, so we might have begun by speaking of the tenderness of the Son, but, unfortunately, there are constraints of time. It would take too long to examine the tenderness of the Son first and then proceed further to that of the Father; since there isnāt the time to properly investigate both themes, I have chosen to prioritize the tenderness of the Father, and will speak of the Son only in so far as this reveals the Father. It is on the latter, then, that we will dwell at leisure, taking time to reflect deeply, through the Son and in the Holy Spirit, without whom it is impossible to contemplate the mystery of the Father. As I say this, reader friend, you will appreciate that, in the end, pondering the tenderness of the Father, through the Son and in the Holy Spirit, leads us into the mystery of the Holy Trinity. This further explains how much one feels a pull towards the silence of wonderment.
Holy Trinity have mercy on me!
Help from the Church Fathers
The church fathers have helped me greatly in the preparation of the book, in a somewhat paradoxical way. They themselves say hardly anything about the tenderness of God, not because the subject was unknown to them, but more because of their true sense of godly reserve, which, I think, greatly exceeds mine; they knew the wisdom of silence, of worshipful contemplation of such a profound mystery. From the few phrases I have been able to glean from reading the fathers, I understood that they had in fact profoundly contemplated the mystery of the tenderness of God, and that they had respected it by adopting a careful silence. They had tasted the humble and marvelous tenderness of God and were deeply affected by it.
A most beautiful example of the extreme reserve of the fathers with regard to the tenderness of God is that of Calliste and Ignace Xanthopouloi who, in the fourteenth century, wrote a āspiritual century.ā Right at the outset of this lengthy treatise of a hundred pages they speak of God as āthe Father who loves tenderly,ā using a term (philostorgos) to denote this tender love that is not found in the Bible, and can only have come from what they discovered of God in their own lives. Then, having so positioned their writing in the light of the tender love of God, they do not speak of it at all throughout the remainder of the work. What these two fathers experienced of the tenderness of God remains shrouded in the silence of delicacy.
This quasi silence of the fathers troubled me at times, to the point of causing me to think that I, in turn, would also do well to be quiet. However, what I have received from them in other ways has encouraged me to write, to share with you what only can be glimpsed in their writings; I feel that I am imparting their thoughts.
A Passage between Two Reefs
Another factor that encourages me to write on the tenderness of God is the observation of two failings that misrepresent it, two reefs to be avoided if we are to restore and preserve the beauty of its mystery.
The first failing is a sort of rose-water sentimentalism. Among some of our contemporaries there is a way of speaking of God and of his love that seems to me somewhat mawkish, marsh-mallowish; the tenderness of God has nothing of that.
Opposed to this is another failing, another reef just as dangerous, which lies in refusing to envisage God as having emotions. Some believers today have indeed deliberately opted not to give any place to the emotions of God, and, in so far as tenderness is also a form of emotion, they deny the fact of his tenderness.
These then are the two reefs between which we must push to find a way that does not compromise either the contemplation of mystery or the practice of a life in love relationship with God.
The Testimony of Abba Poemen
After these few remarks, it seems a good idea to propose to you now a text that has helped me not to fall into the errors just indicated, and a most beautiful example of what can be found in the fathers. It is a short text concerning one of the desert fathers, a fifth-century text from the monastic world of the Egyptian desert:
āCertain elders went to visit Abba Poemen and asked him, āIn your opinion, when we see brothers fall asleep while at divine office, is it needful to help them stay awake when they should be watching?ā He told them, āFor myself, when I see a brother dozing, I lay his head on my knees and help him to restāā (Apophthegm 666).
Here we have a text that reveals in Abba Poemen a man of great tenderness. What is related of him is certainly very touching, but you might say to me that we are dealing with an entirely human tenderness and that it does not directly concern the tenderness of God. This has some truth; but indirectly there is, all the same, something transmitted to us of God and his tenderness. What makes me say this is that the text records a meeting of āelders,ā that is to say, those responsible for small groups of monks. These elders, like Abba Poemen, are spiritual fathers, charged as such to bear witness to what they have perceived of the love of God the Father before the brothers who live alongside them. This meeting of elders addresses a question that unites all of them in their concern to be good witnesses to Godās fatherly love. As such, Abba Poemenās response to the question of the other elders expresses more than just his human attitude, full of tenderness, but it also speaks of the attitude in which he, as a spiritual father, endeavors to communicate what he experienced of the tenderness of God.
Silent Tenderness
What does Abba Poemen help us to understand about Godās tenderness? His gesture of tenderness towards the sleeping brother is accomplished without the slightest word, and, happily, without even waking him! I believe that in acting this way, Abba Poemen wished to testify to the tenderness of God, which may also surround us wordlessly, in total silence. Abba Poemen is blessed in helping us discover something essential about Godās silence; that it may be full of the humble and delicate tenderness of God towards us. How wonderful to know this when we so easily perceive the silence of God as negative! This should help us to be attentive in our life, as in our reading of the Bible, to the fact that there are silences of God that are replete with extreme tenderness.
It is also worth noting in the text about Abba Poemen that the word ātendernessā is not used. The word is absent, but the tenderness is present. The same goes for God in the Bible; the word ātendernessā is rarely applied to God, while his tenderness nevertheless is always present, behind the words, between the words, at times even in the silences of the text! All this shows the way we need to redouble our attention if we are to perceive in the Scriptures, as well as in our lives, something that is present very discreetly.
Tenderness Unknown to Its Beneficiary
As a final comment on the patristic text, I would like to stress that the principal interested party, the beneficiary of the tenderness of Abba Poemen, is fast asleep, and has no awareness of the tenderness that embraces him. This is also most instructive for us: we donāt appreciate correctly, and sometimes not at all, the divine tenderness that surrounds us. We are surely, spiritually, so deeply asleep. . . . Unknown to us, the Lord silently lays our h...