O gentleness of the Father, pour yourself into the son's soul…

There is always great meaning hidden in small differences. Sometimes that small difference is so imperceptible that only the Holy Spirit can reveal its meaning to us. Let us pause on the difference between gentleness and permissiveness. Being permissive with oneself leads, little by little, to catastrophe. On the other hand, being merciful and gentle with oneself leads to spiritual maturity. Whoever is cruel to himself is inevitably crueller still to others. Interestingly, whoever is permissive with himself is also harsh with others. With gentleness and mercy it is entirely the opposite. Whoever is gentle with himself is gentler still with others.

Permissiveness closely resembles mercy, but its content is entirely opposite. It springs from spiritual laziness. Carelessness. Dullness. Blindness. Gentleness, on the other hand, comes from trust in God's love, from cooperation with the Holy Spirit, from spiritual insight, from wisdom and serenity.

Through permissiveness we multiply our faults and create vices, while through gentleness we undo them. Whoever is gentle with himself, when he commits some sin, repents deeply and wishes to turn back to God, but he does not torment himself, does not agonise or drive himself to distraction. This allows him to emerge quickly from sin. Whoever torments himself does himself greater harm than the sin itself has done. The permissive man never repents. He has no fear of God. He passes over all his own evils with ease, as though he had done nothing, yet he becomes furious at the injustices and wickedness of his neighbours. This constantly pushes him towards ever greater sins and leads him into a state of hardened callousness.

A gentle man has great understanding for the sins of his neighbours. Though strict with regard to sin itself, he is gentle towards the sinner. Whoever does not condemn his neighbours for their sins is quickly freed from his own sins. Whoever, on the other hand, harshly condemns others quickly multiplies his own sins.

A great deal of permissiveness completely cancels out gentleness. A tyrant takes up residence in the soul of a permissive man. In the soul of a gentle man dwell the Holy Spirit, the gentle and merciful love of the Heavenly Father, and the image of the merciful Samaritan, Jesus Christ.

Who do we know who is gentle in this way? The first person who comes to my mind is our own gentle Father Antun Bogetić. Whoever knew him closely knows that he was no coward, no one who gave way because he did not care or because he feared conflict. Whenever anyone spoke with him, they always encountered an unaffected gentleness in which they could relax and find rest. Reading his autobiography, in which he truly opened his soul, I marvel at his skill in speaking the truth about those who had hurt him, without ever stepping outside love, without turning into a judge. This gentleness is truly something powerful. Penetrating. Striking. Irresistibly attractive.

St Paul included gentleness among the fruits of the Holy Spirit. And in the Letter to the Philippians he said: "Let all men know your forbearance!" Gentleness deeply respects the weakness of others. It always reckons with the fact that the other is other. It presupposes freedom. It does not reduce the other to itself. It respects difference – and we are necessarily different. All this allows it to penetrate more deeply into the soul of the one it is dealing with. Patience and generosity, love and compassion are written into the very nature of gentleness. When all this comes together, gentleness acquires a supernatural power. It becomes irresistible. In it there is no: you must!, you should! It says: If you can? If it is possible?

There is a well-known saying of St Philip Neri: "State buoni, se potete!" (Be good, if you can!). This is also the title of a film about him. That "if you can" affirms freedom and respects our weakness! And we are all weak. Weakness is ever-present. It is woven into every one of our thoughts and spread throughout our will. I see what is good, but I do what is evil! I know what I should do, but I do what I should not. And this is constant. It is not some occasional act. Whoever is gentle understands well what this is within me and does not break me. He puts balm on my so deep wound. And he waits for me. He gives time to time.

The father of the prodigal son overflowed with gentleness. He waited for him. He did not send messengers after him. He knew that his son had to go through what he had to go through. He gave time to time. The son himself came to himself and set out towards his father of his own accord. The father did not hold a whip in his hand but gave him a kiss instead. The father's gentle lips kissed his son's hardened cheeks.

Let all men know your forbearance! Let everyone feel, let everyone experience your gentleness. Gentleness is not weakness but supernatural strength. The strength of the Holy Spirit. The fruit of the Holy Spirit's working in the soul. The fruit of his enlightenment. How can we be gentle towards ourselves and others if we are not deeply enlightened about the weakness of human nature? How can we be gentle if we have some earthly goal or interest? If we have our own ideas about the other and want to force the other into them?

Whenever I set myself up as the measure of things, I plunge the sword of my own will into the other. And so I break him. I force him to carry out my will. I become cruel. Ideas are cruel. Idols are cruel. The merciful Father is gentle. He knows his son and loves him. His aim is his son's good, and nothing else. I renounce all my plans, so that I may obtain the fruit of gentleness. My plans rob me of the strength of gentleness. Plans are a sharp sword in my hand with which I cut down those around me.

O gentleness of the Father, pour yourself into the son's soul…