Enablement. Pity. Transformation.

     Tonight I acted such as I do rarely.  I disentangled myself from my enablement--enablement of an acquaintance.  Her lifetime.  Horrible abuse.  Justifiable anger.  Deep pain.
     I minimize no one's abuse--I minimize no one's pain.  Each of us have been given our own challenges.
     Our charge--our human dictate--is to transform our abuse--our pain--whatever its severity, whatever its source may be, into constructive motivation to live toward our future.  Though I may sound so, I am not Pollyanna's advocate--I am not her apologist.
     We may not transform our pain at the cost of another's life.
    "There, but by the grace of God, go I."  "I contribute, or act charitably on behalf of those less fortunate than I."
     Both reek of arrogance, unwillingness to understand the essence of transformation, to name but two.
     Enablement.  Pity.  Transformation.
     Enablement.  A noun.  Give (someone or something) the authority or means to do something.
     Pity.  The feeling of sorrow and compassion caused by the suffering and misfortunes of others.
     Do not get me wrong.  Sorrow and compassion are of tremendous comfort to me at moments of life's challenges.
     What I do not abide by is the rotten smell of eggs--the dripping of molasses--that protects pity's pearl.
     Tonight I was overcome.  A rotten egg.  The molasses.  It oozed out of my earpiece.  No longer could I digest the eggshells thrown in my direction.  I had to speak.
     Transformation.  A thorough or dramatic change in form or appearance.
     As someone who strives to live by the example of Jesus--living a life transforming, wallowing has no place--my wallowing, or other's wallowing.
     Wallow.  (to wallow) (of a person) indulge in an unrestrained way in (something that creates a pleasurable sensation.)  [Boldface in original text.]
     Unfortunately, wallowers do not recognize their own indulgences.  Unfortunately, people living transforming lives mistake their own transient enablement, and pity for their lives imbued with sorrow, compassion, and joy.  Such transience is normal--such transience is necessary to us mortal beings..
     I pray I may--we may all--call out those people who wallow in their abuse and pain.  I pray I may--we may all--affirm the transforming lives of the People of God who surround us.

Fear of the Lord???

The fear of the Lord is the beginning of Wisdom. ...The fear which is the first step to wisdom is the fear of being untrue to God and to ourselves. It is the fear that we have lied to ourselves, that we have thrown down our lives at the feet of a false god.
     Thomas Merton. Thoughts in Solitude. (New York: Farrar, Strauss, Giroux): 73


Fear???  I understand a deep sense of awe that, if honored, paralyzes any impulse, on my part, to act unwisely.  I understand the deepest of tragedies that emerges when we lie to ourselves--"when we have  thrown down our lives at the feet of a false god."
     Yet, I cannot reconcile fear with any motivation I might have to act in wisdom.  I am not motivated to seek wisdom in the sense of fear that resides in the pit of my stomach.
     Is my understanding of fear inconsistent with its common definition--with its derivation?  Questions of word derivation lead me to the convenient knowledge the Online Etymology Dictionary affords me.  Here is the entry given for fear:
     Fear (v.) O.E. faeran "terrify, frighten," originally transitive (sense preserved in archaic I fear me).  Meaning "feel fear" is 14 c. Cognate with O.S. faron  "to lie in wait," M.Du. vaeren "to fear," O.H.G. faren "to plot against," O.N. faera "to taunt."
     Awe, perhaps?  Am I shirking moral responsibility, if I opt to live in awe in the stead of living in  fear?  The Online Etymology Dictionary offers the following offers the following derivation of awe.
     c.1300, earlier aghe, c.1200 from a Scandinavian source, cf. O.N. agi  "fright," from P.Gmc. *agiz (cf. O.E. ege "fear," O.H.G. agiso "fright, terror" Goth. agis "fear, anguish," from PIE *agh-es- (cf. Gk. akhos "pain, grief"), from base "agh-" "to be depressed, be afraid"...
     The overlap between fear and awe surprises me.  The sun setting in the northwest sky outside of my home is the best summation of awe that I know.
      I have been blessed to touch--to feel--the texture of awe.  There is a depth to pain, to grief, and to anguish that calls for growth.  I do not seek out pain, grief, or anguish, for its own sake.  Yet, when it comes knocking, I must come to the door.  I must answer the call.
  Yet, for now, I do not know any more than when I first read the passage from Thomas Merton.  How do I advocate for my belief, if I cannot articulate it more clearly?  I fear I do not know.