Good Friday: A Superabundant Atonement (Part II)

This is Part II of guest blogger Matt Nagle’s response to Michael Taylor on the nature of the Atonement. You can find Part I here:
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III. Hell

Hans Memling, Hell (1845)

The real Achilles heel of penal substitution, however, is hell. Why? Well if hell is ultimately the just punishment that man deserves for sin, and if Christ was punished in our place, then it would seem to follow that He would need to be damned to hell to rightly endure our punishment. Taylor makes several points in answer to this critique, and after dancing around the issue of hell and God’s wrath, he writes that “those in hell suffer individually for their own sins. Christ did not suffer for his own sins, but rather for the sins of his people, none of whom will ever go to hell.”

I suppose I see where he gets this point about none of Christ’s people going to hell, given that he is coming at it from a Calvinist point of view. However, the point of Joe Heschmeyer’s objection is that, hypothetically, we would all deserve hell if God had not forgiven us, which from all eternity He willed to be accomplished on the Cross, so it would seem to follow that (in a penal substitution model) Christ would need to suffer the hell fo the damned to redeem us. Thus, I don’t see how this initial response answer Heschmeyer’s objection.

Taylor then claims: “Any single soul in hell will only endure the wrath that God, in his justice, has decreed for him/her. But Christ suffered for the collective guilt of the elect, which means that Christ suffered infinitely *more* than any individual will ever suffer in hell.” The elect, without the mercy of God, wouldn’t be the elect. In other words, without God’s mercy the elect would go to hell; therefore to suffer the collective guilt of the elect would entail being damned to hell.

In regards to the notion of Christ being “damned in our place,” Taylor writes: “My own view is that in order to be damned in our place, Christ would have needed to go to hell in order to suffer there. Biblically, I don't think there is enough evidence to say that he went to hell at all, much less that he suffered there.” The Catholic position does say He went to hell (see 1 Peter 3:18-20 and the Apostles’ Creed), but it needs to be clarified that it is not the hell of the damned but Sheol, the limbo of the just. For a scriptural proof of such a place see Luke 16:19-31, which speaks of the bosom of Abraham. Anyways, there is no evidence in Scripture or the Tradition (unless you count Hans Urs von Balthasar, and for the record I think he is dead wrong on this topic) to support a notion of Christ descending into the hell of the damned.

Now perhaps a proponent of penal substitution like Taylor will say Christ suffered the same as, if not more than, any soul in hell. Well Taylor himself answers that one:

That said, did Christ suffer the same intensity of wrath and an equally intense separation from God as any single soul in hell? I think a good case can be made for saying at least this much. But is this identical to damnation? My intuition is that it is not, and for the simple reason that hell is the absence of hope, but death is not. Christ, therefore, could still hope that he would be vindicated and knew that he would, given his multiple predictions of his resurrection.

I won’t beat a dead horse, with all due respect Taylor dances around the whole issue – if we deserved hell, then penal substitution would seem to necessitate Christ’s suffering the punishments of hell.

IV. Trinitarian Problems with Penal Substitution

Finally, let’s look at the Trinitarian issues surrounding penal substitution. Joe Heschmeyer writes, “Penal substitution introduces a rupture into the Trinity, in which there’s a divorce between the Father and the Son. That sort of rupture isn’t possible, if we properly understand the Trinity as eternal, simple and unchanging.” Taylor begins his response by writing that:

it simply is not the case that God the Father ever hated God the Son. PSA does not claim that God hated the Son; rather the object of his hatred was sin itself, which Jesus became. To be more specific, God hated our sin, not his Son. But he punished his Son because he hated our sin and because he loved us, not because he hated his Son.

While I certainly agree with Taylor that God the Father never hated the Son, punishment properly so called is exercised on a guilty party who is unwilling to offer satisfaction. If the “guilty” party is willing and motivated by charity, then it is satisfaction. I’ll cite St. Thomas to hammer this point one last time (ST, III, 48, 2, reply to objection 1):

The head and members are as one mystic person; and therefore Christ's satisfaction belongs to all the faithful as being His members. Also, in so far as any two men are one in charity, the one can atone for the other as shall be shown later (XP, 13, 2). But the same reason does not hold good of confession and contrition, because atonement consists in an outward action, for which helps may be used, among which friends are to be computed.

Now the Redemption is interesting because this Jesus Christ true God and true man, absolutely sinless, who wishes to atone for our sins. For that to be the case we need Christ as Head of the mystical body, the Church and there needs to be a union of charity.

However, the crux of Taylor’s complaint is that Heschmeyer’s objection confuses the economic and the immanent Trinity. Taylor writes:

Joe Heschmeyer, citing, Bryan Cross said that God would be "divided against himself" if he were pouring out his wrath upon the Son. But this very same kind of objection could be leveled against any number of things the Son did that the Father did not do. Was God "divided against himself" when the Son died on the cross, but the Father and Spirit did not? Was God "divided against himself," when the Son was born of a virgin, but the Father and the Spirit were not? To all these question we answer, "of course not." This is because we understand the distinct roles and functions of each person of the Trinity and how the Incarnation makes it possible for the Son to do things the Father and the Spirit cannot do, but to do them in complete harmony with the will of the one, true God.

Time for some Catechism: “The whole divine economy is the common work of the three divine persons. For as the Trinity has only one and the same nature, so too does it have only one and the same operation…However, each divine person performs the common work according to his unique personal property” (CCC 258). Now it is true that the economic Trinity reveals the immanent Trinity to us, but it is also true that “the theologia [immanent Trinity] illuminates the whole oikonomia [economic Trinity]. God’s work reveals who He is in Himself; the mystery of his inmost being enlightens our understanding of all His works” [CCC 236].

So if I understand Heschmeyer and Cross’s objection, they are saying that because the distinctions of the Divine Persons of the Holy Trinity resides solely in the relationships which relate them to one another, the notion of God the Father pouring out His wrath on God the Son seems to be inconsistent with regards to the immanent Trinity. If (as Heschmeyer stated) in the inner life of God (of the Immanent Trinity) “the Father gives everything (but His Fatherhood) to the Son, as Lover and Beloved, Begetter and Begotten” then the notion of God pouring out His wrath and punishing His Son would introduce a contradiction into what we know of the inner life of the Trinity.

Now Taylor sees the Economic Trinity as having “distinct roles or functions, even as they perform those united in will and purpose. Thus God the Son can offer himself to God the Father, through God the Spirit.” I would agree the Son can offer Himself to God the Father, Through God the Holy Spirit – but punishment, or any sense of the Father’s wrath being poured out upon the Son is wholly inconsistent with the Immanent Trinity.

There are more objections Taylor raises but this is long enough, perhaps I’ll write another response to the remainder of the objection. I’ll conclude by saying that the Redemption is not simple, Taylor was right in that. It is a mystery and it does admit of many aspects. But unequivocally, penal substitution can’t be one because it is full of inconsistencies.

Good Friday: A Superabundant Atonement (Part I)

Guest author Matthew Nagle

How does Christ's death on the Cross save us from our sins?

Several months ago, I wrote a piece arguing for the Catholic “satisfaction” understanding of the Atonement (in which Christ lovingly pays for our debt) and argued against the Calvinist “penal substitution” model (in which the Father pours out His wrath at sins upon His Son). Michael Taylor, a Calvinist blogger at Fallibility, responded with a two-part post (part I, part II) critiquing my original post, and defending penal substitution. It was thoughtful and well-written response that got some important things wrong: about the Catholic view, about the implications of the Reformed view, and about the nature of God.

Fortunately, one of my brother seminarians, Matthew Nagle, is writing his thesis on a closely-related issue involving Catholic theologian Hans Urs Von Hans Urs von Balthasar’s soteriology, and his understanding of the Atonement. As a result, he knows this topic intimately, and he volunteered to set the record straight. I’ve broken his response into two parts: Part I (today) will address the themes of justice and punishment; Part II (tomorrow) will address the Holy Trinity and hell. Without further ado, here is Part I:

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A few days ago Michael Taylor over at Fallibility wrote a two part response to what he termed an “anti-Reformed hit piece” by Joe Heschmeyer entitled “How Does Good Friday ‘Work,’ Exactly?” Taylor begins his piece by claiming that Joe Heschmeyer is setting up a false dilemma: the Redemption was either penal substitution or the sacrifice of charity. Instead Taylor counters that these are simply two aspects of a larger reality. There is a sense in which he is right, in that the Redemption is a mystery admitting of several aspects, however, one of those several aspects is not penal substitution. In what follows I propose to look at several inconsistencies in the penal substitution model (and in Taylor’s response). More specifically, I see penal substitution as admitting of inconsistencies with regards to justice, punishment, hell, and the Trinity.

I. Justice

With regards to justice and the Atonement, Taylor writes:

Here is how we think he did it: As for his justice, he accepted Jesus' "sacrifice of himself" (Hebrews 9:26) as reparation for our sins. The demands of divine justice were thereby satisfied, not by appeasing God's wrath, but rather by taking it upon himself. In this way God's wrath was averted toward sinners. In this way Jesus' self-sacrifice was a propitiation. I would also say that instead of appeasing or averting divine wrath, he instead diverted it toward himself, so that the demands of justice could be fulfilled. 

As for his mercy, this what the elect received instead of justice. It is the flip side of the same coin. If Jesus gets the wrath, then because he does, we are shown mercy precisely because we have been spared the wrath that was otherwise our due.

Now the important thing to highlight here is the problematic phrase “the demands of justice.” In short, justice makes absolutely no demands on God, because He is Justice itself. Taylor, in a later section, will basically say as much (and seemingly contradict the above paragraph) when he writes, “I think you'll agree that there is no standard of justice that [is] higher than God.” Yet later on, he seemingly contradicts himself again when he writes that “because God is just, sin has to be punished. To be true to his own character, God can't simply forgive sin, which would indeed would [sic] be mercy without justice.” Therein lies the first of many problems with penal substitution: God could have forgiven our sins without denying His justice and he would have still been “true to his character.”

Let's turn to St. Thomas Aquinas (who Michael Taylor refers to as “Tommy Aquinas”) for clarification. Thomas raises the following objection, which he will, in turn, answer (ST, III, 46, art. 2, ad 3um):

God's justice required that Christ should satisfy by the Passion in order that man might be delivered from sin. But Christ cannot let His justice pass; for it is written (2 Timothy 2:13): "If we believe not, He continueth faithful, He cannot deny Himself." But He would deny Himself were He to deny His justice, since He is justice itself. It seems impossible, then, for man to be delivered otherwise than by Christ's Passion.

In other words, the objection argues in a similar manner to Taylor: In order for man to be delivered from sin, the demands of justice had to be fulfilled. If God denies His justice He is denying Himself, which He can’t do. So if God’s justice required that man could only be redeemed by the satisfaction of Christ’s passion, then it would seem that this Atonement was necessary and inevitable. .

Fra Angelico, Christ the Judge (1447)

I also want to point out that there is a very important distinction between punishment and satisfaction which we will get into shortly, but for now let’s look at St. Thomas’ response to the objection:

Even this justice depends on the Divine will, requiring satisfaction for sin from the human race. But if He had willed to free man from sin without any satisfaction, He would not have acted against justice. For a judge, while preserving justice, cannot pardon fault without penalty, if he must visit fault committed against another--for instance, against another man, or against the State, or any Prince in higher authority. But God has no one higher than Himself, for He is the sovereign and common good of the whole universe. Consequently, if He forgive sin, which has the formality of fault in that it is committed against Himself, He wrongs no one: just as anyone else, overlooking a personal trespass, without satisfaction, acts mercifully and not unjustly. And so David exclaimed when he sought mercy: "To Thee only have I sinned" (Psalm 50:6), as if to say: "Thou canst pardon me without injustice."

The key point is this: if God had willed to free us from sin without satisfaction, He could have done so, and in doing so would not be acting against justice – that is to say, denying Himself. To illustrate this point, St. Thomas gives the example of a judge who in justice “cannot pardon fault without penalty” in the case of a fault committed against a third party. But if the fault is committed against the judge, then he can “pardon fault without penalty.” What is true in the case of this judge is even more so the case with God because there is no higher authority than the One True God, and He is the offended party. Thus, if He forgives a fault committed against Him (i.e. sin) He acts mercifully and justly.

Let's return to Taylor's argument about the demands of justice and the Cross. Taylor claims that, “The demands of divine justice were thereby satisfied, not by appeasing God's wrath, but rather by taking it upon himself...he instead diverted it toward himself, so that the demands of justice could be fulfilled.” Moreover, in order for Jesus to fulfill the demands of justice he “gets the wrath” that otherwise was our due. If Jesus didn’t “get the wrath” then God would be denying Himself, because He is justice. On the contrary, St. Thomas would respond that it wouldn’t be unjust for God to simply forgive us our sins without satisfaction.

But of course, God didn’t just simply forgive us. The question then is why the Cross? St. Thomas’ answer is that it was the most fitting way that we could have been redeemed. He writes (ST, III, 46, art. 3):

Guercino, Christ Crowned with Thorns (1622)

Among means to an end that one is the more suitable whereby the various concurring means employed are themselves helpful to such end. But in this that man was delivered by Christ's Passion, many other things besides deliverance from sin concurred for man's salvation. In the first place, man knows thereby how much God loves him, and is thereby stirred to love Him in return, and herein lies the perfection of human salvation; hence the Apostle says (Romans 5:8): "God commendeth His charity towards us; for when as yet we were sinners . . . Christ died for us." Secondly, because thereby He set us an example of obedience, humility, constancy, justice, and the other virtues displayed in the Passion, which are requisite for man's salvation. Hence it is written (1 Peter 2:21): "Christ also suffered for us, leaving you an example that you should follow in His steps." Thirdly, because Christ by His Passion not only delivered man from sin, but also merited justifying grace for him and the glory of bliss, as shall be shown later (48, 1; 49, 1, 5). Fourthly, because by this man is all the more bound to refrain from sin, according to 1 Corinthians 6:20: "You are bought with a great price: glorify and bear God in your body." Fifthly, because it redounded to man's greater dignity, that as man was overcome and deceived by the devil, so also it should be a man that should overthrow the devil; and as man deserved death, so a man by dying should vanquish death. Hence it is written (1 Corinthians 15:57): "Thanks be to God who hath given us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." It was accordingly more fitting that we should be delivered by Christ's Passion than simply by God's good-will.

In other words, the Cross was the most fitting or best way to redeem mankind, but not because of strict justice (because, as we have seen, God could have pardoned us without any contradiction). The Cross was the best way to redeem us because (in addition to redeeming us) it also manifested the degree of God’s love for us, as well as the gravity of sin, and gave us a perfect example all a multiplicity of virtues, and on and on.

Now I am not saying that justice was in some way absent from the Cross – far from it (and we’ll get to how justice is properly at work in the Redemption). But another major problem with the penal substitution model’s conception of justice is that it sees God's justice solely as retributive (at least in relation to the Passion). Why can’t retributive justice be exercised by the Father on the Son? Well, there are numerous issues here, but let’s take one that is often used against penal substitution: the Innocence of Christ.

It also happens to be a passage from the Summa quoted by Michael Taylor (albeit in the laughable context of trying to suggest the Angelic Doctor was promoting penal substitution), St. Thomas writes (ST, III, 47, 3, reply 1):

It is indeed a wicked and cruel act to hand over an innocent man to torment and to death against his will. Yet God the Father did not so deliver up Christ, but inspired Him with the will to suffer for us. God's "severity" (cf. Romans 11:22) is thereby shown, for He would not remit sin without penalty: and the Apostle indicates this when (Romans 8:32) he says: "God spared not even His own Son." Likewise His "goodness" (Romans 11:22) shines forth, since by no penalty endured could man pay Him enough satisfaction: and the Apostle denotes this when he says: "He delivered Him up for us all": and, again (Romans 3:25): "Whom"--that is to say, Christ--God "hath proposed to be a propitiation through faith in His blood."

Now St. Thomas does use the word penalty, but that doesn’t mean he is positing a soteriology based on penal substitution. Read in light of the entire article it shows us that “Christ suffered voluntarily out of obedience to the Father” (remember that for when we speak on punishment). St. Thomas then goes on to list three respects in which God the Father delivered Christ up to His Passion [ST, III, 47, 3 corpus]: “In the first way, because by His eternal will He preordained Christ's Passion for the deliverance of the human race…Secondly, inasmuch as, by the infusion of charity, He inspired Him with the will to suffer for us… Thirdly, by not shielding Him from the Passion, but abandoning Him to His persecutors.”

The Harrowing of Hell (14th c.)

Moreover, I would say that from reading this passage in the context of Thomas’ larger corpus we know he didn’t view the passion as the Father’s punishment on the Son because in other places Thomas clearly outlines the wickedness and injustice of punishing an innocent man in place of a criminal.

For example, in his commentary on 2nd Corinthians he writes, “it is obvious that if we were to punish the innocent, we would be standing against the truth and against justice” (Comm. in 2 Cor. 13, lect. 2, n. 531). Or in the Summa, St. Thomas writes (concerning the Descent): “It was fitting for Christ to descend into hell, not because he was liable to punishment, but in order to free those who were” (ST, III, 52, art. 1, ad 1um). So if something is wicked and unjust, can God do it? Of course not. That would be absurd, because He is Justice. If punishing an innocent man is wicked and unjust, and God is not wicked and unjust, then it follows that God won’t punish an innocent man.

Taylor does, however, try to answer this objection (my comments are in black):

First, the Roman Catholic model cannot explain how a loving, good God would permit the death of an innocent at all, even if his death were not a penal substitution [if you are speaking about the Passion, there is satisfaction (which we will get to soon); if you are speaking in general, then God permits evil to bring some greater good out of it]. Consider the problem by way of another imperfect analogy. If it were within your power to prevent unjust suffering, and you chose not to do so, then you could be liable to the charge of negligence. Now surely the all-knowing, all-powerful sovereign of the universe could have arranged matters in such a way as to spare Jesus the crucifixion [Yes…that is what St. Thomas says]. So it amounts to this: What really is the difference in the mind of the Roman Catholic between actively causing Jesus' death and passively allowing it to happen when it could have been avoided? Is a sin of omission somehow more noble than a sin of commission?

Now who is trying to frame the debate as a false dilemma? But to answer the question, we’ve already outlined the Father’s role (He preordained the Passion by His will; by an infusion of charity He inspired Christ to suffer for us, and He permitted the Passion to take place – meaning He “did not shield Christ from the Passion). Moreover, Christ Himself tells us that He lays down His own life: “This is why the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down on my own. I have power to lay it down, and power to take it up again. This command I have received from my Father” (John 10:17-18).

However, Taylor has a second objection which revolves around Christ’s corporate solidarity and the imputation of guilt. In short, his argument is that in virtue of the faithful’s union with Christ, “our sins are his.” Therefore it follows that God wasn’t punishing an innocent man but a guilty one, because our sins are Christ’s. Thus, Taylor writes:

Therefore we conclude that God shows both mercy and justice precisely because sin is punished. It is punished when Christ bears our sins and accepts the consequent wrath due to sin. Because he is one with his people, there is a sense in which he is his people, and so in that representational and substitutionary sense, individual Israel (Christ) bears corporate Israel's (our) sins. And thus mercy is granted while justice is satisfied. This is Penal Substitutionary Atonement in a nutshell.

In other words, in virtue of Christ’s union/identification with sinful mankind, He takes our guilt upon Himself in such a way that it makes the outpouring of the wrath of God justified.

Then the question becomes: is this what St. Paul meant when He said that Christ “became sin” (2 Corinthians 5:21)? I would argue that St. Paul is referring to Christ’s making satisfaction for sin when he speaks of Christ becoming sin – that is He redeemed us by himself being both the priest and the victim of the perfect atoning sacrifice. I would say this: St. Paul’s teaching on Christ “becoming sin” can’t mean both a penal substitution model and a satisfaction model because of the distinction between punishment and satisfaction that we will explore momentarily (it will also help explain how justice and mercy are at work in the Passion). Nevertheless, in an effort to shorten what is turning into a monstrous blog post I’ll suggest a good blog post concerning this topic.

II. Punishment and Satisfaction

St. Thomas' writings on punishment reveal a stark contrast with penal substitutions idea of punishment (i.e.the Father's wrath being poured out upon the Son). Thomas writes that “the disorder of guilt is not brought back to the order of justice, except by punishment: since it is just that he who has been too indulgent to his will, should suffer something against his will, for thus will equality be restored” (ST, III, 86, 4). Earlier in the Summa he also writes that “punishment is essentially something against the will,” (ST, I-II, 87, 2). So if Christ willingly laid down his life for mankind, as both Scripture and the passage from St. Thomas quoted by Michael Taylor (“God the Father did not so deliver up Christ, but inspired Him with the will to suffer for us”) attests to, then it can’t properly be called punishment.

Maarten van Heemskerck, Man of Sorrows (1532)

Properly speaking, for punishment to be punishment it has to be against the person's will; in other words, punishment is inflicted on a sinner as long as he is unrepentant (i.e. doesn’t make satisfaction for the wrong he is guilty of). Thus, for penal (punishment) substitution to be correct, the Father has to pour out His wrath on the Son, against the Son's will (something Taylor wants to explicitly avoid when he qualifies that the Father's wrath is poured upon but not against the Son).

To understand satisfaction, let’s take a quick look at what St. Thomas has to say about it (ST, III, 14, 1, reply 1):

The penalties one suffers for another's sin are the matter, as it were, of the satisfaction for that sin; but the principle is the habit of soul, whereby one is inclined to wish to satisfy for another, and from which the satisfaction has its efficacy, for satisfaction would not be efficacious unless it proceeded from charity, as will be explained (XP, 14, 2). Hence, it behooved the soul of Christ to be perfect as regards the habit of knowledge and virtue, in order to have the power of satisfying; but His body was subject to infirmities, that the matter of satisfaction should not be wanting.

St. Thomas teaches that the distinction between satisfaction and punishment is twofold: Firstly, in the willingness of the one to offer satisfaction, and secondly in that for satisfaction to be effective it must proceed from charity. Put another way, the suffering one undergoes is the material principle of satisfaction, whereas the charity from which it proceeds is the formal principle.

In vicarious satisfaction, a person satisfies for the sin of another: the suffering undergone is the material principle and the procession from charity is the formal principle which makes the material principle efficacious. Moreover, there are two points pertaining to the solidarity of the guilty person and the person making satisfaction that need to be enumerated. To do this, I will appeal to an excellent book by the theologian Philippe De La Trinite OCD. In short, there must be a “natural or moral link between the guilty person and the person making satisfaction” and “this solidarity of the two together must be accepted by the person offended” (What is Redemption, 81). Now if Christ willingly endured the Passion, it can’t be seen through the prism of punishment qua punishment, but it can be understood through the prism of satisfaction, which fits nicely with St. Paul’s teaching on Christ “becoming sin,” because of the necessity of a “natural or moral link” between the guilty and the person making satisfaction. Finally, vicarious satisfaction shows how justice and mercy are united in the Passion, because vicarious satisfaction “envisage[s] the fulfillment of justice in virtue of merciful love while ensuring that he who makes it should not be liable to an infliction of retributive justice by the person offended” (What is Redemption, 80-81).

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So that’s Part I of Nagle’s response. I’ll post the rest of his response (addressing questions related to the Trinity and hell) at 8 AM CST tomorrow. For now, feel free to add your reactions and questions in the comment box below: thanks!

“By Mercy-ing and by Choosing Him”: Pope Francis and the Feast of St. Matthew

Pope Francis has made no secret of his affinity for the calling of St. Matthew (Matthew 9:9-13). His papal motto is from a homily on the call of Matthew, and it was on the Feast of St. Matthew, sixty years ago today, that Francis had a religious experience that led him to the priesthood:

[O]n the Feast of St Matthew in 1953, the young Jorge Bergoglio experienced, at the age of 17, in a very special way, the loving presence of God in his life. Following confession, he felt his heart touched and he sensed the descent of the Mercy of God, who with a gaze of tender love, called him to religious life, following the example of St Ignatius of Loyola.

Pope Francis opened up about this, in one of the most self-revelatory parts of his recent interview with Antonio Spadaro, S.J., explaining how he sees himself (“a sinner”), and why he chose his particular papal motto (Miserando atque Eligendo, “By Mercy-ing and by Choosing Him”):

Caravaggio,
The Calling of St. Matthew (detail) (1600)

I ask Pope Francis point-blank: “Who is Jorge Mario Bergoglio?” He stares at me in silence. I ask him if I may ask him this question. He nods and replies: “I do not know what might be the most fitting description.... I am a sinner. This is the most accurate definition. It is not a figure of speech, a literary genre. I am a sinner.”

The pope continues to reflect and concentrate, as if he did not expect this question, as if he were forced to reflect further. “Yes, perhaps I can say that I am a bit astute, that I can adapt to circumstances, but it is also true that I am a bit naïve. Yes, but the best summary, the one that comes more from the inside and I feel most true is this: I am a sinner whom the Lord has looked upon.” And he repeats: “I am one who is looked upon by the Lord. I always felt my motto, Miserando atque Eligendo [By Having Mercy and by Choosing Him], was very true for me.” 

The motto is taken from the Homilies of Bede the Venerable, who writes in his comments on the Gospel story of the calling of Matthew: “Jesus saw a publican, and since he looked at him with feelings of love and chose him, he said to him, ‘Follow me.’” The pope adds: “I think the Latin gerund miserando is impossible to translate in both Italian and Spanish. I like to translate it with another gerund that does not exist: misericordiando [“mercy-ing”]. 

Pope Francis continues his reflection and says, jumping to another topic: “I do not know Rome well. I know a few things. These include the Basilica of St. Mary Major; I always used to go there. I know St. Mary Major, St. Peter’s...but when I had to come to Rome, I always stayed in [the neighbourhood of] Via della Scrofa. From there I often visited the Church of St. Louis of France, and I went there to contemplate the painting of ‘The Calling of St. Matthew,’ by Caravaggio.

“That finger of Jesus, pointing at Matthew. That’s me. I feel like him. Like Matthew.”

Here the pope becomes determined, as if he had finally found the image he was looking for: “It is the gesture of Matthew that strikes me: he holds on to his money as if to say, ‘No, not me! No, this money is mine.’ Here, this is me, a sinner on whom the Lord has turned his gaze. And this is what I said when they asked me if I would accept my election as pontiff.” Then the pope whispers in Latin: “I am a sinner, but I trust in the infinite mercy and patience of our Lord Jesus Christ, and I accept in a spirit of penance.”

Caravaggio, The Calling of St. Matthew (detail) (1600)

There’s much to be said about this answer. First, the humility of Pope Francis’ answer apparently shocked a lot of people. For example, Kevin Emmert at Christianity Today (the Evangelical magazine and website) reacted like this:

Spadaro asks Pope Francis point-blank, "Who is Jorge Mario Bergoglio?" The pope's answer is shocking: "I am a sinner. This is the most accurate definition. It is not a figure of speech, a literary genre. … I am a sinner, but I trust in the infinite mercy and patience of our Lord Jesus Christ, and I accept in a spirit of penance." It is striking that the pope would declare himself a "sinner," since the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that baptism erases original sin and turns humans back toward God. However, the catechism also teaches that the inclination toward sin and evil persists, but this is distinguished as concupiscence and not sin in the proper sense. The pope nevertheless recognizes his tendencies as a sinner, and confesses wholehearted trust in God's unending grace. And his statement about penance is remarkable: it's a response to God's grace, not the mechanism that activates God's grace.

Emmert’s surprise struck me as odd: apparently he found it odd that regenerative baptism doesn’t mean we’re not sinners anymore. But when has the Church ever taught this? (And which of our faith traditions teaches “Once Saved, Always Saved,” anyways?).

Pope Francis’ Coat of Arms and Motto

Emmert’s reaction is an important reminder that there’s a lot of work to be done, even in explaining basic
teachings of Catholicism to other Christians. Still, it’s nice that Evangelicals are paying attention to Pope Francis and that they seem, on the whole, pleasantly surprised by what they’re hearing. My hope is that this leads Evangelicals (and others) to positively reevaluate their view of Catholicism.

Of course, it would be tempting to write Pope Francis off as an exception, one of “good ones,” or as going outside of Catholic Tradition by declaring himself a sinner in such a bold way. But in fact, Francis is speaking in a deeply Catholic way. For example, St. Patrick began his famous Confession this way:

I am Patrick, a sinner, most unlearned, the least of all the faithful, and utterly despised by many. My father was Calpornius, a deacon, son of Potitus, a priest, of the village Bannavem Taburniæ; he had a country seat nearby, and there I was taken captive. 

I was then about sixteen years of age. I did not know the true God. I was taken into captivity to Ireland with many thousands of people---and deservedly so, because we turned away from God, and did not keep His commandments, and did not obey our priests, who used to remind us of our salvation.

But it’s not just Catholicism which is caricatured and misunderstood. The real Pope Francis stands in stark contrast from the way he’s depicted in popular culture. This interview is a good reminder, for example, that Pope Francis is genuinely a man of letters, far more cultured than you might deduce from his popular image. Not only is his motto drawn from a fairly-obscure passage from St. Bede the Venerable (673-735), but in the course of this interview, he references a wide range of authors (from Dostoevsky to Joseph Malègue), poets (Frederich Hölderlin, Alessandro Manzoni, etc.), painters (Caravaggio, Chagall, etc.), composers (Beethoven, Wagner, etc.), and conductors (he is particularly fond of Furtwängler and Knappertsbusch).

But perhaps the most fruitful response would be to simply enter into what Francis is describing. Below, you can find the Caravaggio painting of The Calling of St. Matthew, alongside St. Bede the Venerable’s homily on Matthew 9:9-13 (which, incidentally, is part of today's Office of Readings). I've bolded the phrase that became the papal motto, to situate it in the beauty of its full context:

Caravaggio, The Calling of St. Matthew (detail) (1600)

“Jesus saw a man called Matthew sitting at the tax office, and he said to him: Follow me.” Jesus saw Matthew, not merely in the usual sense, but more significantly with his merciful understanding of men.

He saw the tax collector and, because he saw him through the eyes of mercy and chose him, he said to him: “Follow me.” This following meant imitating the pattern of his life - not just walking after him. St. John tells us: “Whoever says he abides in Christ ought to walk in the same way in which he walked.”

“And he rose and followed him.” There is no reason for surprise that the tax collector abandoned earthly wealth as soon as the Lord commanded him. Nor should one be amazed that neglecting his wealth, he joined a band of men whose leader had, on Matthew’s assessment, no riches at all. Our Lord summoned Matthew by speaking to him in words. By an invisible, interior impulse flooding his mind with the light of grace, he instructed him to walk in his footsteps. In this way Matthew could understand that Christ, who was summoning him away from earthly possessions, had incorruptible treasures of heaven in his gift.

“As he sat at table in the house, behold many tax collectors and sinners came and sat down with Jesus and his disciples.” This conversion of one tax collector gave many men, those from his own profession and other sinners, an example of repentance and pardon. Notice also the happy and true anticipation of his future status as apostle and teacher of the nations. No sooner was he converted than Matthew drew after him a whole crowd of sinners along the same road to salvation. He took up his appointed duties while still taking his first steps in the faith, and from that hour he fulfilled his obligation and thus grew in merit. To see a deeper understanding of the great celebration Matthew held at his house, we must realise that he not only gave a banquet for the Lord at his earthly residence, but far more pleasing was the banquet set in his own heart which he provided through faith and love. Our Savior attests to this: “Behold I stand at the door and knock; if anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.”

On hearing Christ’s voice, we open the door to receive him, as it were, when we freely assent to his promptings and when we give ourselves over to doing what must be done. Christ, since he dwells in the hearts of his chosen ones through the grace of his love, enters so that he might eat with us and we with him. He ever refreshes us by the light of his presence insofar as we progress in our devotion to and longing for the things of heaven. He himself is delighted by such a pleasing banquet.

Little Monastery, Bright Light

"I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life" (John 8:12)

LUMEN CHRISTI Monastery in Kansas City, KS

"LUMEN CHRISTI" (the Light of Christ) Monastery was consecrated by Archbishop Joseph Naumann on September 14, 2013.  The "Little Monastery" is the new home for the Little Sisters of the Lamb in Kansas City, KS.  The monastery is the first of its kind for the Community of the Lamb in North America.  Gathering friends from across the world both on location and through live streaming, the grace of God was called down to dedicate this new home for the community to Jesus Christ, the Light of the World.  Under the patronage of St. Agnes, LUMEN CHRISTI Monastery will serve as a furnace of God's love and mercy.

The Sacred Liturgy and Blessing can be viewed here: Part One, Part Two and Part Three.  Also, be sure to check out the photos of the building process.

In an article for the National Catholic Register, Archbishop Naumann explains the unique charism of the Little Sisters:

The sisters came to Kansas City at the invitation of Archbishop Joseph Naumann who encountered their community in Rome. Archbishop Naumann believes that the effectiveness of their ministry flows from their poverty, which requires them to go out and beg for their daily bread and, in the process, share the Gospel with those they meet.
“By coming in poverty, many people welcome them,” the archbishop said. “Their strong and beautiful prayer life sustains them in living out this radical poverty.”
The sisters travel in threes to beg for their daily bread in the tradition of St. Dominic. They offer to pray with and for the people they meet and share the Gospel with them. Their motto is “Wounded, I will never cease to love.”

It was fitting that the dedication took place on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross considering how close the Community of the Lamb is to the Wounded Lord.  Seeking out the poor and suffering in any given neighborhood, the Little Sisters serve as beautiful instruments of the Holy Spirit for the New Evangelization.

"I have seen the Lord" (John 20:18)

Perpetual Adoration at the Little Monastery

Founded 35 years ago, the Community of the Lamb is still a relatively young and definitely growing community.  The newspaper for the Archdiocese of Kansas City in Kansas, The Leaven, explains:

Foundress Little Sister Marie said she had no idea she was starting a community 35 years ago in France. As a young Dominican Sister, she only knew that she had a big question in her heart.
“In our world, evil seems so many times so triumphant,” she explained. “And this question was in my heart. I believe it is in all human beings’ hearts: Tell us, Lord, how are you victorious over all evil?”
The answer came to her during a night in silent adoration.
“In the middle of the night,” she said. “this sentence of St. Paul’s arose in my heart: In his own flesh, Christ destroyed the enmity; in his own person, he killed hatred! (Eph: 2:13-19)
“I understand now, the Community of the Lamb was born in that moment.”
The motto of the community is: “Wounded, I will never cease to love.” Its charism is to live the Gospel and Jesus’ life in community.
“United to Jesus and filled with the love of God, we become the sent ones,” Little Sister Marie explained.
“Through the mercy of God we go, ‘without gold or silver,’ in order to give out the name of Jesus,” she explained. “We go like Jesus went — poor and begging the love of mankind; we beg for our daily bread, announcing the Gospel to all.”
“This is the living water of the charism,” she added. “The living water, because it is always renewed in adoration and in prayer and in our union to Christ.”
Today, the Community of the Lamb includes 130 Little Sisters and about 30 Little Brothers from many countries serving in communities around the world.

At the end of the Mass, the foundress, Little Sister Marie, invited the supporters of the Little Monastery to become adorers.  She noted that 4,000 different donors had made the Little Monastery possible, and it was now time for them to become 4,000 adorers before Jesus Christ in the Blessed Sacrament.

 "Do not work for food that perishes but for the food that endures for eternal life" (John 6:27)

The simplicity and joy of the Little Sisters is truly attractive and inviting.  Their way of life challenges a culture of excess while at the same time giving hope to the poor who they live among.

The cells for the sisters are extremely modest.  In addition to their own rooms, they now have four rooms for young women who want to visit the community and rooms for priests to have days of prayer away from the noise of the world.

As I toured the newly blessed rooms and saw the sincere interest of the guests and benefactors, my heart was warmed at the possibilities.  If these sisters could become so small so as to get out of Christ's way, others can as well.  Talking to the sisters after Mass and asking for their prayers, I was reminded how truly simple and straightforward their view of evangelization is: first you must live it.  That's it: first you must live it. 

In their view, the New Evangelization occurs through witness before words.  From the beginning, the vision for the Little Monastery kept that call to live the Gospel in mind.  The National Catholic Register article from three years ago highlighted this vision:

Sister Bénédicte described the planned monastery as a simple structure in keeping with their charism. “It reflects in its architecture the message of the Gospel,” she said. “A simple building to be part of the New Evangelization, to go back to the basics. Each aspect of our life reflects the simplicity and beauty of the Gospel.”

The Refectory at the Little Monastery

Such simplicity flows from their encounter with Jesus Christ in prayer.  As Archbishop Naumann was blessing the monastery, the sisters prayed the following prayer, between chanting antiphons of "Behold, the Lamb of God, resplendent of the glory of the Father, of the Glory of his most holy Passion, Light and complete joy of our hearts":

In the last few months one has often heard the complaint that many prayers for peace are still without effect.  What right have we to be heard?  Our desire for peace is undoubtedly genuine and sincere.  But does it come from a completely purified heart? Have we truly prayed "in the name of Jesus," that is, not just with the name of Jesus on our lips, but with the spirit and in the mind of Jesus, for the glory of the Father alone, without any self-seeking?

Might we all be less self-seeking and more fervent to call on the name of the Lord.  St. Agnes, pray for the Community of the Lamb!

If you want to hear more about what the New Evangelization looks like in Kansas, check out a new blog effort from the Office of Evangelization for the Archdiocese of Kansas City in Kansas: EVANGELIZED KANSAS.

The Key to Understanding Pope Francis' Pastoral Approach

“Love It, Learn It, Live It.”

That’s the slogan my archbishop, Archbishop Joseph Naumann, chose for the Faith Initiative for the Year for Faith. I was initially surprised by the ordering, since it seemed to me that it would be more logical to put “Learn it” first.

Apparently, I wasn’t alone: one of the priests addressed this question during Mass. He did so by asking one of the altar servers a series of questions: name, favorite color, and so on. What we received was a bunch of information. But, he pointed out, most of us didn’t know this server, so we would quickly forget everything we’d learned (and sure enough, I can’t even remember if the server was a boy or a girl).

He then contrasted this with the relationship of spouses: they’re in love with each other, so they joyfully want to know more about each other. You want to know the minutiae about the person you love: that desire to know him/her well is part of the nature of love. And so it is with God. If we love Him, we’ll desire catechesis, we’ll want to know more. If we don’t, these teachings will seem like a bunch of “rules,” or a political party’s public policy positions (say that three times fast).

That’s what came to mind while I was reading Pope Francis’ interview with Antonio Spadaro, S.J.. I would suggest that the critical passage to understanding both this interview, and Pope Francis' papal style more broadly, is right here:

“The church’s pastoral ministry cannot be obsessed with the transmission of a disjointed multitude of doctrines to be imposed insistently. Proclamation in a missionary style focuses on the essentials, on the necessary things: this is also what fascinates and attracts more, what makes the heart burn, as it did for the disciples at Emmaus. We have to find a new balance; otherwise even the moral edifice of the church is likely to fall like a house of cards, losing the freshness and fragrance of the Gospel. The proposal of the Gospel must be more simple, profound, radiant. It is from this proposition that the moral consequences then flow.

“I say this also thinking about the preaching and content of our preaching. A beautiful homily, a genuine sermon must begin with the first proclamation, with the proclamation of salvation. There is nothing more solid, deep and sure than this proclamation. Then you have to do catechesis. Then you can draw even a moral consequence. But the proclamation of the saving love of God comes before moral and religious imperatives. Today sometimes it seems that the opposite order is prevailing. The homily is the touchstone to measure the pastor’s proximity and ability to meet his people, because those who preach must recognise the heart of their community and must be able to see where the desire for God is lively and ardent. The message of the Gospel, therefore, is not to be reduced to some aspects that, although relevant, on their own do not show the heart of the message of Jesus Christ.”

This stands is sharp contrast from the media spin. For example, the Associated Press story claimed:

U.S. bishops were also behind Benedict's crackdown on American nuns, who were accused of letting doctrine take a backseat to their social justice work caring for the poor — precisely the priority that Francis is endorsing.

But that’s just patently false. Francis isn’t saying that moral issues favored by Republicans need to take a backseat to moral issues favored by Democrats. That’s a complete misreading, and suggests that the media obssession with viewing everything through the lens of politics obstructs their ability to grasp this. What Francis is saying instead is that all moral issues (even ones involving life and death) properly flow from a relationship with Christ. Morality that doesn’t flow from, or towards, Jesus Christ is simply incoherent. 

Just How Effective is Natural Family Planning, Anyway?

One of the major arguments surrounding natural family planning is on its effectiveness. Critics of NFP claim isn’t all that effective at family planning. In part, this misconception is due to two things:

Charles Auguste Romain Lobbedez, Family Time (1876)

that, despite its name, it

1. There are a wide variety of practices thrown together under the name “NFP.” If you threw every means of contraception together (from sterilization to withdrawal), you would end up with accurate-but-virtually-meaningless statistics. So it is with NFP: the “Standard Days” method is far less accurate than the sympothermal method. By far less accurate, I mean that even when used perfectly, it results in more than ten times the number of unplanned pregnancies (5% v. 0.4%). So when you hear a generic number about “NFP effectiveness,” realize that it might be including some fairly unreliable methods.
   
   
2. Couples that practice NFP tend to want, or at least be open, to large families. In other words, the overlap between “couples who use NFP” and “couples who don’t think of children as diseases to be prevented” is substantial. So unsurprisingly, NFP-practicing couples tend to have large families. That looks like a bug, but is a feature (after all, many couples use NFP to have more children, not fewer).

Because of reason # 1, there are misleading (and imprecise) statistics on NFP effectiveness. Because of reason # 2, there’s a lot of anecdotal evidence leading people to think that NFP means large families, and therefore (the assumption goes), NFP mean lots of unplanned pregnancies.

So what are the real statistics?

Lets turn to two sources. First, “Contraceptive Failure in the United States” by James Trussell of the Office of Population Research at Princeton University. Trussell has a helpful chart (page 398 of this PDF) showing the unplanned pregnancy rate per year of a wide variety of family-planning methods, including all sorts of contraception and NFP.

From this chart, we see that sympto-thermal NFP, when used perfectly, was about as effective as the the Pill (0.4% and 0.3% unplanned pregnancy rate, respectively), and far more effective than either male (2%) or female (5%) condoms.

The only shortcoming to Trussell’s work is that it only lists the “perfect-use” percentages for each specific form of NFP. So while he tells us that typical use for the Pill involves 9% of women getting pregnant within a year, along with 18-21% of women relying on condoms, we don’t have a way to directly compare that with typical use symptothermal.

Fortunately, he cites to a large-scale study examining the topic. This study found that symptothermal NFP, when used perfectly, resulted in an annual 0.4% pregnancy rate. Overall, the typical-use rate was 1.8%. Even for women who had “unprotected” sex during their fertile period, the pregnancy rate was only 7.8% (since these couples tended to avoid the earliest, and most fertile, part of the woman’s fertile period). [Here is the study, and a very-readable summary of it.]

Comparing NFP to the major forms of contraception directly, here’s what we see:

“% of women experiencing an unintended pregnancy within the first year of use”
	“Typical Use”	“Perfect Use”
Combined pill and progestin-only pill	9%	0.3%
Female condoms	21%	5%
Male condoms	18%	2%
Withdrawal	22%	4%
Symptothermal NFP	1.8%	0.4%

Other studies appear to confirm similar effectiveness for the Creighton Method (1.2% perfect use; 2.0% typical use). The statistics paint a clear picture. When it comes to family planning, symptothermal NFP typically is far more reliable than condoms or the Pill.

So even apart from moral justifications, NFP produces the same results or better, without the risk of horrible side effects accompanying many forms of contraception. For example, many contraceptives carry the risk of preventing pregnancy for years after use: in short, they work too well at inhibiting fertility.

To take another case, the European Union has called for a $47 billion clean-up plan to purify the water system in the United Kingdom, after it was revealed that ethinyl estradiol (the primary ingredient used in birth control pills) was leading to intersex fish, and collapsing fish populations. So these drugs are unhealthy and unsafe for a fish to ingest, yet our culture has convinced women to poison their bodies with them. As a result, everyone who drinks the water is at risk. Given that these pills aren’t substantially better at preventing pregnancies than NFP (in theory or in practice), this is all the more tragic.

The Other Implications of NFP Effectiveness

Ary Scheffer,
Faust and Marguerite in the Garden (1846)

So NFP advocates are right: natural family planning really does work at family planning. But that only accentuates the need for NFP not to turn into the “Catholic-friendly contraception” that its critics claim.  Certainly, there’s nothing wrong with being responsibility about your sexuality. On the contrary, all human actions demand prudence, and a life-changing action like sexual intercourse calls for far more prudence than preparing dinner or determining the shortest route to the bank.

There is no virtue in treating your sexuality in an animalistic way. As Pope Paul VI noted in paragraph 10 of Humanae Vitae: “With regard to man's innate drives and emotions, responsible parenthood means that man's reason and will must exert control over them.” And Pope Pius XI, back in 1930, acknowledged that this “virtuous continence” was permitted in matrimony, as long as both parties consent. So being responsible about your sexuality is virtuous, and even necessary.

But a virtue is the mean between two extremes: and just as you can be reckless about your sexuality, you can also be obsessively controlling. An over-reliance on NFP to space or prevent the creation of new life can close its practitioners off to life. Worse, it can be symptomatic of an unhealthy approach to life in general: a need for more control than is warranted.

In the discussion of why NFP is okay when contraception is not, in paragraph 16 of Humanae Vitae, Paul VI explained that it was to be used only for good reason:

If therefore there are well-grounded reasons for spacing births, arising from the physical or psychological condition of husband or wife, or from external circumstances, the Church teaches that married people may then take advantage of the natural cycles immanent in the reproductive system and engage in marital intercourse only during those times that are infertile, thus controlling birth in a way which does not in the least offend the moral principles which We have just explained.

NFP was never intended to be the normal or ideal way that Catholics engaged in the marital act. It’s not healthy, virtuous or wise to obsess over NFP, particularly when one has the resources to welcome another child.

My concern is that NFP seems to be presented as the normal or ideal way that Catholics should approach their sexuality. And without a doubt, it’s far better than contraception. Back in 1880, the Sacred Penintentiary confirmed that “a confessor may, with due caution, suggest this proposal [avoiding intercourse during fertile periods] to spouses if his other attempts to lead them away from the detestable crime of onanism [that is, the “withdrawal” method] have proved fruitless.” So if the choice is between contraception (which is sinful), and NFP (which isn’t), easy choice.

But if the choice is between NFP and simply being open to new life without trying to make a plan, the latter is even more ideal. NFP has never been the ideal way to approach human sexuality, and if you find that you’re over-reliant on it (particularly if you have the resources to welcome another child), it might be time to take a step out in faith, and trust God not to give you more than you can handle.

Update: The second section above is intended to refer to using NFP to prevent pregnancy. I’ve modified one of the sentences to eliminate ambiguity on this point.

Saturday, Sept. 7: Global Day Of Fasting And Prayer For Peace In Syria

Pope Francis has declared tomorrow a global day of prayer and fasting for peace in Syria, the Middle East, and throughout the world. I would encourage everyone of good will to join in, regardless of religious affiliation. The situation in Syria is very grim, and prayer and fasting are powerful spiritual tools. Here is how Pope Francis explains the fast:

Hans Speckaert, Conversion of St Paul on the Road to Damascus (c. 1577)

What can we do to make peace in the world? As Pope John said, it pertains to each individual to establish new relationships in human society under the mastery and guidance of justice and love (cf. John XXIII, Pacem in Terris, [11 April 1963]: AAS 55, [1963], 301-302). 

All men and women of good will are bound by the task of pursuing peace. I make a forceful and urgent call to the entire Catholic Church, and also to every Christian of other confessions, as well as to followers of every religion and to those brothers and sisters who do not believe: peace is a good which overcomes every barrier, because it belongs all of humanity! 

I repeat forcefully: it is neither a culture of confrontation nor a culture of conflict which builds harmony within and between peoples, but rather a culture of encounter and a culture of dialogue; this is the only way to peace. 

May the plea for peace rise up and touch the heart of everyone so that they may lay down their weapons and be let themselves be led by the desire for peace. 

To this end, brothers and sisters, I have decided to proclaim for the whole Church on 7 September next, the vigil of the birth of Mary, Queen of Peace, a day of fasting and prayer for peace in Syria, the Middle East, and throughout the world, and I also invite each person, including our fellow Christians, followers of other religions and all men of good will, to participate, in whatever way they can, in this initiative. 

On 7 September, in Saint Peter’s Square, here, from 19:00 until 24:00, we will gather in prayer and in a spirit of penance, invoking God’s great gift of peace upon the beloved nation of Syria and upon each situation of conflict and violence around the world. Humanity needs to see these gestures of peace and to hear words of hope and peace! I ask all the local churches, in addition to fasting, that they gather to pray for this intention. 

Let us ask Mary to help us to respond to violence, to conflict and to war, with the power of dialogue, reconciliation and love. She is our mother: may she help us to find peace; all of us are her children! Help us, Mary, to overcome this most difficult moment and to dedicate ourselves each day to building in every situation an authentic culture of encounter and peace. Mary, Queen of Peace, pray for us!

The USCCB has echoed this call to prayer and fasting. So please, join me tomorrow, along with countless others (both Catholics and non-Catholics), in fasting and praying to God for peace!

More Numerous Than the Hairs of My Head? A Reflection on Sin and Its Consequences

I. King David

Julia Margaret Cameron, Study of King David (1866).
The photograph depicts Sir Henry Taylor as David

In Psalm 40:11-12, King David confesses that his sins are greater than the number of hairs on his head, as he cries out to God for help:

Do not thou, O Lord, withhold thy mercy from me,

let thy steadfast love and thy faithfulness ever preserve me!

For evils have encompassed me without number;

my iniquities have overtaken me, till I cannot see;

they are more than the hairs of my head; my heart fails me.

I understand that this is poetic language, but I was still curious about how the number of our sins compares to the number of hairs on our heads. Do we really have more sins than hairs? Obviously, the answer will depend largely upon the individual. A toddler has more hair than sins, while a bald man has more sins than hair. But how about an ordinary believer?

Of course, this answer requires knowing two things: the number of hairs on our heads, and the number of sins that we’ve committed.

The first of these is easy enough: according to biologists, humans have an average of 90,000-150,000 hairs on their heads. I have no idea how they determined this number, but they have even broken it down by hair color: blonde (~150,000), brown (~110,000), black (~100,000) or red (~90,000). So King David, being Semitic, probably had roughly 100,000 hairs on his head.

But quantifying the number of sins that we’ve committed is obviously much harder. Likely, the closest that we can get is a line from Proverbs 24:16, which says that “a righteous man falls seven times, and rises again; but the wicked are overthrown by calamity.” This passage was understood to mean seven times a day (see Luke 17:4), although the ancient commentators recognized that this passage wasn’t meant to be an exact formula.
Rather, it’s meant simply to say that even the righteous sin often. Both the righteous and the wicked sin; the critical difference is that the righteous man repents.  And of course, the “seven times a day” number describes the righteous man, not the wicked one (who presumably sins more often). But David is a righteous man, so let’s assume, for purposes of our calculations, that he only sinned roughly seven times a day.

Now, this daily struggle with sin only occurs with the age of reason. Before we’re old enough to understand right from wrong, we can’t be held morally responsible for our actions. Therefore, actual sin isn’t possible. The Catholic Encyclopedia states that, as a general rule, the age of reason “happens at the age of seven, or thereabouts, though the use of reason requisite for moral discernment may come before, or may be delayed until notably after, that time.” So barring exceptional cases (particularly astute children, the mentally handicapped, etc.), seven years old is a nice, rough estimate.

Putting all of that together, here’s what we get. Assuming that David began sinning an average of seven times a day, every day, from his seventh birthday forwards, and that he had 100,000 hairs on his head, he would be 47 years old when the number of his sins surpassed the number of hairs on his head. More precisely, it would be about 14,285.7 days after his seventh birthday. (In more concrete terms, today is September 3, 2013. If you were born on July 25, 1967, today would be 14,285 days after your seventh birthday.)

In other words, by the time King David is writing this Psalm, the number of his sins probably is far greater than the number of hairs on his head. Likewise, if you’re middle-aged, or haven’t lived your life like the righteous man (for example, by sinning more than seven times a day), odds are good that your sins outnumber the hairs on your head.

II. Jesus in the Garden

This is more than just idle mathematical curiosity. Each one of those sins contributes to the suffering of Jesus
Christ and His Church. Pope Pius XI described how, in the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus Christ had perfect foreknowledge of every sin that we would ever commit. Each one of these sins contributes to the suffering that He endured, which is why Hebrews 6:6 can describe apostasy as crucifying Christ again.

Heinrich Hofmann, Christ in Gethsemane (1890)

The chief suffering Christ faced wasn’t the physical brutality of His Passion, but the knowledge of how we had sinned, were sinning, and would sin. He is our God, and He knew how these sins would alienate us from Him, and lead to our own misery. That is, Christ’s chief suffering was so thoroughly selfless that it could only be felt by One who loved. Pius explains it this way:

For any one who has great love of God, if he will look back through the tract of past time may dwell in meditation on Christ, and see Him laboring for man, sorrowing, suffering the greatest hardships, "for us men and for our salvation," well-nigh worn out with sadness, with anguish, nay "bruised for our sins" (Isaias liii, 5), and healing us by His bruises. And the minds of the pious meditate on all these things the more truly, because the sins of men and their crimes committed in every age were the cause why Christ was delivered up to death, and now also they would of themselves bring death to Christ, joined with the same griefs and sorrows, since each several sin in its own way is held to renew the passion of Our Lord: "Crucifying again to themselves the Son of God, and making him a mockery" (Hebrews vi, 6).

The Body of Christ, the Church, also suffers as a result of every sin, and benefits as a result of all Christian merit. Scripture is clear on this. In speaking of the Body of Christ, St. Paul writes that, “If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together” (1 Corinthians 12:26). This is why, when Saul persecuted the Church, Jesus describes it as a persecution against Himself (Acts 9:1, 5). Blessed Pope John Paul II explained that, as a result of this communion of the Saints,

Consequently one can speak of a communion of sin, whereby a soul that lowers itself through sin drags down with itself the church and, in some way, the whole world. In other words, there is no sin, not even the most intimate and secret one, the most strictly individual one, that exclusively concerns the person committing it. With greater or lesser violence, with greater or lesser harm, every sin has repercussions on the entire ecclesial body and the whole human family.

Fortunately, this isn’t the end of the story. Just as our sinful actions now cause Him suffering in the past, the same is true for our good actions. When we repent of our sins, this brings Him solace there in the Garden, as He begins His Passion for us once for all. Pius Pius XI again:

Now if, because of our sins also which were as yet in the future, but were foreseen, the soul of Christ became sorrowful unto death, it cannot be doubted that then, too, already He derived somewhat of solace from our reparation, which was likewise foreseen, when "there appeared to Him an angel from heaven" (Luke xxii, 43), in order that His Heart, oppressed with weariness and anguish, might find consolation. And so even now, in a wondrous yet true manner, we can and ought to console that Most Sacred Heart which is continually wounded by the sins of thankless men, since - as we also read in the sacred liturgy - Christ Himself, by the mouth of the Psalmist complains that He is forsaken by His friends: "My Heart hath expected reproach and misery, and I looked for one that would grieve together with me, but there was none: and for one that would comfort me, and I found none" (Psalm lxviii, 21).

This is true of the Church, too. Just as each Christian’s sins harm the whole Church, each Christian’s sanctification brings healing and joy to the whole Church. This is what Paul is saying in 1 Corinthians 12:26.

III. You, Today

My hope is that you will take two things away from all of this. First, that it will call you to repentance. Your sins may number more than the hairs on your head, but that’s all the more reason to turn back. Proverbs 24:16 reminds us that both the righteous and the wicked fall. The chief difference is that the righteous get back up again. You may have caused Christ an enormous amount of grief as a result of your sins. But it’s never too late to bring solace to Him in His Passion by turning towards Him.

Second, I hope that this knowledge leads you to immense joy. Christ foresaw you, sins and all, and decided that you were worth going to the Cross for. You should live your life in the joy and knowledge of this truth, as the Apostles point out. St. Peter writes, “You know that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your fathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot” (1 Peter 1:18-19). St. Paul says the same: “You are not your own; you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body” (1 Corinthians 6:19b-20).