A Reflection for Saturday of the First Week of Lent
Find today’s readings here.
For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have?
I was bullied a little in high school, experienced some nastiness in the workplace, and had a few caustic personal relationships, but I never thought of anyone as my “enemy.” That word always seemed too harsh, too unchristian. Until, that is, I had a particularly difficult relationship with a fellow Jesuit. From the moment we first saw each other—before I had even said a word—it felt like he had already made up his mind about me.
I was far from home, in a new country, surrounded by a culture I didn’t fully understand. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t change his opinion of me. Every effort to connect met resistance. He found fault in everything I did. We tried talking—he had his reasons, I had mine—but we couldn’t move past the hurt. We both held onto resentment. And at some point, I had to admit it: He felt like an enemy.
One day, in the middle of all this tension, he said something that took me aback: “When someone hates you, suffocate them with love.” I had heard the English version—“kill them with kindness”—but the different phrasing of the same sentiment struck me differently. Maybe because, to me, it wasn’t just a cliché. For whatever reason, I decided to give it a try. Slowly, over time and with prayer, I let go of some of my resentment. The situation didn’t magically improve, but something shifted. It didn’t happen overnight, but by the time I left, we even shared a hug—something I never would have imagined at the start. We haven’t spoken since, but I believe that moment gave us some closure and a new understanding of what it means to respond to each other with grace.
This is exactly what Jesus calls us to in today’s Gospel: “You have heard that it was said, You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy. But I say to you, love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44). Loving our enemies isn’t easy. It goes against everything we want to do when we’re hurt. Our instinct is to protect ourselves, to fight back, or to hold onto anger. But Jesus calls us to something radically different—to love that doesn’t wait for the other person to change but takes the first step, even when it feels impossible. “For if you love those who love you, what recompense will you have?” (Matthew 5:46). It’s easy to love people who love us back. But Jesus challenges us to love those who oppose us, who hurt us, or who simply don’t like us.
The History Behind ‘Kill Them with Kindness’
At the time, ‘kill them with kindness” sounded like good advice—a way to counter hostility with grace. Had I actually known its history, I might not have thought it so noble—or at least, I might have been more skeptical when my superior suggested it.
One theory behind the phrase comes from the behavior of apes. In the 1500s, naturalists observed that some female apes would hug their infants so tightly—with what seemed like excessive affection—that they accidentally smothered them. In other words, they were literally “killing” their young with too much kindness.
Shakespeare also played with this idea in The Taming of the Shrew, where Petruchio tries to control his wife, Katherina, through excessive attention. He declares:
“That all is done in reverend care of her. And, in conclusion, she shall watch all night, And, if she chance to nod, I’ll rail and brawl, And with the clamor keep her still awake. This is a way to kill a wife with kindness. And thus I’ll curb her mad and headstrong humor.”
Here, Shakespeare shows how “kindness” can be twisted into a tool of control—using overwhelming attention to break someone’s spirit. This is the opposite of what Jesus calls us to. His love is not about manipulating others into submission. It’s about offering love freely, even when the other person resists it, rejects it, or pushes it away.
The Radical Love of Christ
Jesus calls us to love as God loves: “God makes the sun rise on the bad and the good, and causes rain to fall on the just and the unjust” (Matthew 5:45). God doesn’t pick and choose who deserves love. Love is given freely to all. And Jesus tells us to do the same—to extend love not just to those who treat us well, but to those who make life difficult, to those who hurt us, to those who may never change.
And just in case we didn’t get the point, Jesus finishes with a challenge that seems impossible: “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). Perfection, in this sense, isn’t about never making mistakes. It’s about reflecting the fullness of God’s love—love that doesn’t discriminate, doesn’t hold back, and doesn’t retreat in the face of difficulty. It’s a love that doesn’t just endure; it transforms us and the world around us.
Isn’t this exactly what Lent is about? Not introspection for its own sake, but for the sake of revisiting our relationship with God, with ourselves, and with others. It’s a time to ask tough questions and search our hearts: Who in our lives challenges our ability to love? Who do we need to love—not with forced kindness, but with the kind of love that breaks through bitterness, resists resentment, and makes space for healing and reconciliation?
Lent is about more than sacrifice; it’s about removing the barriers that keep us from loving fully. It’s about surrendering resentment, letting God reshape our hearts, and making space for the radical love Jesus calls us to—a love that stretches us beyond our comfort zone and draws us closer to God and to one another.
This kind of love isn’t easy. It asks more of us than we want to give. It challenges us to let go when we’d rather hold onto our pain. But this love, hard as it is, is the only thing that truly transforms us and the world. The real question is: Are we willing to risk it?
