The Shack and Friedrich Schleiermacher

America magazine has a review of William Paul Young's The Shack. Not surprisingly, they get it wrong: instead of a substantive critique, a lame endorsement. What it amounts to is, relationships are important! God is about relationships! and, this book arrives at the right time!

Because, if there is anything our world needs today, it is more anti-institutional simplification about religion that reduces it to an experience of relationship and a feeling of trust. The reviewer notes, of course, that few Christians understand the Trinity:

[a] mystery,” “beyond comprehension,” “impossible to understand fully”—these are some of the phrases Christians use to describe the Holy Trinity, a central tenet of the faith. I once overheard an adult initiation sponsor tell a catechist, “You don’t need to worry about the Trinity. Not even priests understand that.” The Trinity is an essential doctrine, yet few of us know much about it or its significance to our lives.

Karl Rahner said something similar almost fifty years ago. So is the answer really the edifying themes the books presents: God is interested in our lives; we encounter God in our pain; forgiveness is possible?

What is the Catholic response to such a tremendously popular work of pop-devotion? Well, this last year I had to read it as part of a faculty-wide discussion at the school I taught at. And I arrived home this summer to hear it mentioned in a homily, and learned that discussion groups at the parish were meeting to talk about this "inspirational" text.

On a related note, recently having enjoyed gleaming the witty site, www.stuffchristianculturelikes.com, I've been thinking about the theological problems (despite real strengths I admire) Evangelical Christianity runs into. And of course, since Catholics today seem to have almost complete ignorance of the riches of their tradition, grasping for any kind of support for their faith in today's world, they usually reach for whatever was popular in Evangelical culture last year. Now, it's The Shack. The above mentioned blog tamely mocks the propensity Evangelical culture has for these kind of books: it's The Shack, a few years ago it was the Left Behind detritus, before that it was Frank Peretti, before that Hal Lindsey, etc.

The response you usually get when asking a director of religious education about the wisdom of using such a book is, it's not perfect but at least it's reaching people and getting them interested.

At least it's reaching people and getting them interested.

Let me see if I can pull my thoughts together succinctly on The Shack, problems within Evangelical Protestantism, and Catholics using less-than-ideal materials to "get folks interested."

The key to all this is the dominant influence of Schleiermachian Christianity. You might respond, if he's the dominant influence, how come I've never heard of Friedrich Schleiermacher? Like a lot of consequences in history, the prime mover if you will is often undetected. In short, he was a German Protestant theologian who felt threatened by the Enlightenment's criticisms of Christianity. So he reduced Christianity to an experience of feeling, which science couldn't touch. i.e. Christianity now takes its departure from subjective experience, specifically, the feeling of "absolute dependency." This was well and great, but the 20th century realized that lots of other beliefs can induce feelings of trust, love, sympathy, etc. Thence you have mainstream Protestantism seizing on social justice as Christianity's sole unique contribution to human welfare. (Which of course was not unique, which is why mainstream Protestantism is two feet in the grave.) Conservative protestants resisted this, first intellectually under Barth and Bultmann, then popularly (and nearly exclusively by Americans) by means of Biblical fundamentalism.

Passing by a somewhat complicated history these last 100 years, now we have in America a majority of non-denominational Evangelical Protestants. You can probably include a lot of Pentecostals, Open Bible, and Baptists in that mix as well. The differences aren't so important anymore, as are the common features: little emphasis on dogma and historical creeds; largely unconcerned with the debates of the Reformation (i.e. post-Reformation); not much emphasis on the sacraments; very little emphasis on the liturgy within the traditional experience of Christianity (whether early-Church, Catholic, Byzantine, Lutheran, Methodist, or contrarily Anabaptist, Brethren, Quaker, etc.); emphasis reading Scripture alone and within small groups, with a particular slant to "how does this speak to me?"; a "church experience" gathering as a congregation in order to sing contemporary "praise & worship", hear a sermon--usually on a chapter or section from Scripture--and perhaps to be prayed over and more rarely experience the charismatic "gifts of the Holy Spirit".

But most of what happens in Evangelical Christianity is not only extra-liturgical, but extra-ecclesial. By that I mean, most of your average Evangelical's "faith-life" is devotional, happens outside the actual physical church, and got at by means of popular Christian literature. If non-fiction, it employs the method of relating a multitude of stories and personal examples in order to illustrate a few salient points, with little theological or even logical development. The point is to get the reader to "relate it to their experience." The points are rather simple, as in, institutions can be impediments to spreading the Gospel, selfishness is the main problem in most marriages, good stewardship will be rewarded, impurity is a bad habit and therefore cannot be cured by a mere good intention, God loves us despite out sinfulness. Again, the importance isn't so much on the theological rectitude of the idea, but how well it can get readers to "relate" it to their "faith-journey".

Of course, this isn't all bad, and there can be impressive stories and worthwhile points in such literature. I submit that the greater problem remains, however: it is the mode by which these books communicate, and the way they form the reader to expect a certain result from reading the book. Similarly, all the number of hip or fashionable stuff Christian culture likes almost always follows from the same logic:

in order to successfully communicate the Gospel, I've got to get my audience to relate to what I'm saying, to identify it within their own experience, and ultimately to bring about an experience of greater trust and even a fundamental decision to commit to the Gospel.

If you're familiar with a lot of post-conciliar Catholic religious education literature and methodology, this may sound familiar. Both it and elements in Evangelical protestantism in truth presuppose the same understanding of Christianity.

This understanding says, faith consists in a decision to follow God/the Gospel, or as a continual decision to keep believing, and grows as an experience and feeling of closeness and integration. Again, the point is not, is the subject objectively changed or became a different kind of person, but do they feel or experience their life as different now that they have decided to follow God.

The Catholic understanding is different. It is neither voluntaristic, nor sentimental. Which is to say, the approaches mentioned above (that dominate much of Evangelical protestantism and diocesan religious education) are anti-intellectual and gnostic/dualistic.

The Catholic understanding says that faith is primarily a habit of the intellect, even if the will is involved; that the intellect is a prime partner in conversion and the progression to a commitment to the Gospel; that we believe, not primarily because it feels good, or we can "relate", or even because we can experience as of right now a different kind of life, but because the Gospel is true. The former attributes can be a part of conversion, but they are subsidiary.

(One can make a similar analysis of love: there is the sentimental, subjective, and voluntaristic modern account of love, and there is the Catholic account that says it is either a passion, or an act of right relationship, that has certain objective qualities and conditions, where one wills the good of an other for their own sake, because they are seen as desirable/good/worthy of love.)

Preaching the Gospel therefore is not primarily about "relating to the audience" or "relevancy" or pointing to what is authentic in the recipient's own life; it is indeed about discovering the truth about a relationship, that the recipient is not in right relation with God, and must get in right relation. This is why religion is formally a matter of justice; and even if it is more than that, it must begin with or at least retain this element.

Preaching the Gospel deals with objective facts and contexts. It requires the recipient to evaluate his life and experience, true enough, but in order to bring to the light of truth what is false, and to see what is true and bears on his life as immediate and imperative, God's summons to repent and follow him (i.e. evaluation presupposes an objective standard or context from without, else it is solipsistic). As the convert grows in devotion, it is the objective standard of the residing disproportion between what God is calling him to and how he is still acting, and the objective truth that God always loves him and is indeed calling him and helping him to change, that helps him to grow. Furthermore, preaching the Gospel leads to an eventual understanding of what is objective and factual, namely the revelation of Jesus Christ, that inspires hope, and more importantly, greater and greater love, in order to act more and more in conformity with God's (objective) will, and respond with adoration, gratitude, supplication, and continued contrition to God. (Another interesting side point: when someone says, "it's God's will for me" as a reason, ask him, "how do you know?" In other words, how do we know God's will? If it becomes synonomous with how I am feeling, than real discernment is impossible. The right way to discern begins with the objective resources for knowing God's will as primary--the Decalogue, the Beatitudes, human nature, the evangelical counsels, morality, etc.)

Finally, the life of the Christian consists most importantly in now offering such right adoration to God, which is done by joining the prayer of Christ the High Priest, who offers his life to the Father once and for all, by means of the Liturgy. The Liturgy then is primarily about this right relation (not primarily about whether we can relate, or feel a certain way, or have it identify with our experience, even if these have at times a subsidiary role). In other words, we should be conformed to the Liturgy, not the Liturgy should be conformed to us. And this is indeed something objective, something we can know.

It might be an oversimplification to say the Schleiermachian way determines that the intellect follow the will (i.e. the emotions, since as a matter a fact the will is no self-starter), and the Catholic or orthodox way determines that the will follow the intellect, but I think it summarizes my point well.

Again, what matters foremost is not whether the congregants/students/retreatents/etc. feel that they are closer to God, but whether they indeed are in right relation to God.

If we become slaves to what is hip and fashionable (distressed jeans/rock music/coffee shops/giant projector screens), we run the risk that the medium becomes the message, and we make the Gospel a matter of feeling. If it feels relevant, if I can relate to it (which is nothing other than saying, this reminds me of what I already know!), there is nothing new here. For the Gospel must always, at all costs and imperatively, retain its character of newness, of surprise. If there is nothing new here, than there is nothing here that I need, nor anything here that can save me: therefore, Christianity is superfluous, and probably a waste of time.

Rather, it is communicating the Gospel in all its newness and imperative nature that is the task of the minister/preacher/evangelist. And not primarily by means of emotional persuasion, but intellectual persuasion (believe, it's true!). The love and affection of an other can open a door, and here perhaps we run the least risk of submitting to relevancy and feeling, for few things are more permanent on this earth than the presence of loved ones and relationships. But even in any given relationship, that love can fail, that affection can die off, that relationship can grow cold. And if the Gospel was accepted on condition of that relation, faith may suffer a mortal blow as well. If faith is nothing else than a feeling of total dependency, it resides on nothing more substantial than my own felt condition.

As for The Shack, there is indeed many points inside that are salutary and helpful. But ultimately, the modus operandi of the book is, inspire a feeling, reduce what is objective and certain to the rule of "does this inspire me?" and "can I relate to it?" Perhaps the nuggets of Trinitarian theology inside can lead to a greater understanding of one's faith, but the problem is, this is not how the book itself approaches it. The very story presupposes that any message is ultimately conditioned on the recipient's own needs, proclivities, and feelings. There is a grain of truth there (whatever is received is received according to the mode of the receiver), but truth is finally the adequation of the mind to reality. And I think this is why Christianity is not communicated to us primarily by means of art or literature, but by history (Jesus Christ really lived and left this inexplicable movement), by objective personal testimony (see what Christ has done in my life), and by the communication of imperative news (I have news of the utmost importance: God created you, and has called you...).

And once accepted and believed, Christianity grows in the life of the believer principally by means of the Liturgy. By joining in this prayer, with my brothers and sisters, in fact outside of time (can't get any more objective than that), even if performed in time, where Heaven really and truly is present, I am transformed. And not by means of, if it jibes with my feelings, or experience, or "where I'm at", is it effective. Such is the common misunderstanding of Christian experience in liberal Catholicism, which sees no objective need (only congruence) for things like sacraments, rites, rubrics, cult, priests, ritual, matter, etc.

Note well the weakness of this current within Evangelical protestantism (despite its many strengths and the things it gets right). This kind of methodology leads to a subjective, syncretistic, sentimental church. Preaching the truth in and out of season (keeping in mind the correlative truth that HOW we preach does matter, and we need to know our audience, their needs, strengths, weaknesses, and that strong meat should not be given to babes, etc.), leading congregants to an understanding of the truth, and an ability to discern whether they are in right relation with God, and a desire to have an authentic, objective experience of God (liturgy and mysticism), is what really works in the long run.

The Christopher West controversy: a different take, by way of St. Thomas Aquinas and St. Francis de Sales

Throughout the whole debate over the strengths and weaknesses of Chris West’s approach to teaching Theology of the Body, there has frequently been reference on the critical side to his failure to appreciate the reality of concupiscence. Such is implied by West’s popular injunction to be able to look at a naked woman and see her as a person and not an object to be used. In fact, West does qualify such points, and does mention that chastity is a process, involving a certain degree of detachment and prudence. Nonetheless, the emphasis is on how a chaste relationship of love, through the sacrament of marriage, is a power to heal the pull of concupiscence. (I am not attending to other questions raised by West’s analysis, including his portrayal of the sexual revolution, and possible over-emphasis on the sexual act as the hermeneutic key to anthropology and possibly the Trinity.) David Schindler has accused West of stressing purity of intention to the detriment of the objective inclination to sin that remains in this fallen world, and in our flesh, which demand prudence and ascesis. West cautions not to downplay the transformative power of grace. Michael Waldstein (a former professor of mine) has qualified West’s emphasis, stressing,

in the sexual sphere, true growth in virtue is possible; virtue can overcome the tendency to sin, though objective concupiscence and the consequent danger of sin remain real. The path to virtue leads through deep awareness of the spousal meaning of the body and through authentic growth in love. "Love, and then do what you want!" says St. Augustine, who is (wrongly) invoked as the father of both Puritanism and Jansenism.

Waldstein invokes the bogeyman of Jansenism several times, going so far as to imply that Schindler and West’s other critics may have a too pessimistic vision of the human person and their capacity for change in this area. This seems to be a straw man. Louis Dupré has written about how most authors who throw out the Jansenism card exhibit little understanding of the movement, which in fact was not at all homogeneous but complex and embroiled within the drama of post-reformation French Catholicism. In many ways, what some call “Jansenism” was simply orthodoxy; the word became an argument ad hominem that conveniently avoided dealing with the actual issues. It is very easy to accuse American Catholicism of Jansenist beginnings; it is difficult to actually define terms and substantiate historical generalizations. Depending on what is cited, most of the great saints of 18th and 19th century Catholicism cautioned against the fomes pecatti in ways that might seem Jansenistic—but that is only because that term has ceased to have any precise historical or theological meaning.

Does the path to chastity lie primarily through a deep awareness, meaning a conscious understanding, of the spousal meaning of the body? Is authentic growth in love primarily a matter of intention?

Well, let’s look at the traditional teaching of two Doctors of the Church on this matter. As much as I have read, they seem to faithfully recapitulate the Patristic teaching on growing in chastity.

The first is St. Thomas Aquinas. In his short work, On the Perfection of the Spiritual Life, there is a chapter titled, “Helps on preserving chastity.” He begins by outlining his approach:

Since chastity is so difficult a virtue that, in Our Lord’s words, not all men “take it,” but those only “to whom it is given,” it is necessary for those who desire to live a life of continence, so to conduct themselves as to avoid all that might prove an obstacle in the prosecution of their design. Now there are three principal hindrances to continence. The first arises from the body. The second from the mind. The third from external circumstances, whether they be of persons or of things.

In the Summa Theologiae, St. Thomas considers chastity as primarily to do with the moderation of venereal pleasures, as acts of touch, therefore falling under prudence. He seems to quote Augustine approvingly when he says,

Venereal pleasures are more impetuous, and are more oppressive on the reason than the pleasures of the palate: and therefore they are in greater need of chastisement and restraint, since if one consent to them this increases the force of concupiscence and weakens the strength of the mind. Hence Augustine says (Soliloq. i, 10): "I consider that nothing so casts down the manly mind from its heights as the fondling of women, and those bodily contacts which belong to the married state." (ST II-II.151.3.ad.2)

St. Thomas assumes with the tradition that those desiring to be perfect will give up marriage for virginity; he does not have the benefit of the modern tradition of vocation that might qualify such an enthusiastic endorsement. Nonetheless, it is fair to say he is echoing the tradition here. The ingenuity of Pope John Paul's Theology of the Body lies in its proposal that marriage as such can be a specific path to holiness, and chastity can be acquired in virtue of that state, not in spite of it.

Let's continue: chastity is a difficult virtue, and although lust is not as grave as other sin, because of its attractiveness, its sensual immediateness, it ensnares more people than any other vice. St. Thomas takes seriously the imperative need for fighting such a danger, and so he proposes strong counsels.

The first hindrance to preserving chastity comes from the body, the law in our members fighting against the law in our minds. This is condition of the flesh lusting against the spirit, where concupiscence is most acutely felt. St. Thomas cautions, the more the body is pampered with pleasure, the more the inclination to sin will increase. Like bending a bent reed back to center, more pressure most be exerted in light of the weakness of the flesh. Therefore, we must chastise the body, abstaining from immediate pleasures as much as we can. St. Thomas reiterates the Patristic counsel that when it comes to lust, trying to stay and fight is to concede defeat--with this temptation, the remedy is always to flee the occasion of sin. However, there are other desires concerning touch that we can fight by concentrating our minds--like food, sleep, warmth--and by doing this, indirectly strengthen our ability to withstand sexual temptation.
St. Thomas begins with the hindrance of the body, and the remedies against it, because this area is the most fundamental for beginning growth in chastity. If one would not first chastise the body in other ways, even the best intentions will go astray, due to the power of the flesh. Rather than a gnostic disdain for the body, St. Thomas seems to take the body's role quite seriously.

The second hindrance is the mind. This primarily has to do with dwelling on unchaste thoughts, or merely, carnal gratification. Again the counsel is, flee don't fight. Try to keep the mind attentive upon God, thinking of him as much as we can. We should frequently read Scripture when we have down time. In general, we should always prefer to think of good and noble things, ignoring what is base and carnal. Especially, we should shun idleness, and spend time in physical labor (relating again to the first hindrance).

The third hindrance is external circumstance. Here St. Thomas mentions the danger of frequently associating with women. It is natural for us, as animals, to desire to be with the opposite sex. Therefore we must use caution, for frequent association will give rise to those instinctual desires within us. Quoting the book of Sirach, St. Thomas is content to advise, do not gaze on everyone's beauty; do not tarry among women. When association is unavoidable, modesty of the eyes will help prevent lustful desires. He ends by referring to Abbot Moses's advice for how to spend one's time instead: in solitude, fasting, vigils, bodily labor, reading.

To briefly refer to another authority, in his Introduction to the Devout Life, St. Francis de Sales offers a similar teaching: "purity has its source in the heart, but it is in the body that its material results take shape, and therefore it may be forfeited both by the exterior senses and by the thoughts and desires of the heart."

Can these counsels be applied to the married state?

St. Francis has this to say to the married:

If you, husbands, would have your wives faithful, be it yours to set them the example. "How have you the face to exact purity from your wives," asks Saint Gregory Nazianzen, "if you yourself live an impure life? or how can you require that which you do not give in return? If you would have them chaste, let your own conduct to them be chaste. Saint Paul bids you possess your vessel in sanctification; but if, on the contrary, you teach them evil, no wonder that they dishonour you. And ye, O women! whose honour is inseparable from modesty and purity, preserve it jealously, and never allow the smallest speck to soil the whiteness of your reputation."

As for the marriage bed itself, St. Francis seems content to let us read between the lines:

The marriage bed should be undefiled, as the Apostle tells us, i.e. pure, as it was when it was first instituted in the earthly Paradise, wherein no unruly desires or impure thought might enter. All that is merely earthly must be treated as means to fulfil the end God sets before His creatures. Thus we eat in order to preserve life, moderately, voluntarily, and without seeking an undue, unworthy satisfaction therefrom. "The time is short," says Saint Paul; "it remaineth that both they that have wives be as though they had not, and they that use this world, as not abusing it."

Let every one, then, use this world according to his vocation, but so as not to entangle himself with its love, that he may be as free and ready to serve God as though he used it not. Saint Augustine says that it is the great fault of men to want to enjoy things which they are only meant to use, and to use those which they are only meant to enjoy. We ought to enjoy spiritual things, and only use those which are material; but when we turn the use of these latter into enjoyment, the reasonable soul becomes degraded to a mere brutish level.

In light of what St. Francis recommends, similar advice as St. Thomas's can be given to the married: do not let the weakness of your flesh and its desires allow you to inordinately seek sexual pleasure, and to protect against this, chastise the body; do not dwell on sexual thoughts, even of your wife, for even if this is allowed, it will have the effect of making a habit of preferring sensual thoughts to higher and noble ones; avoid looking at the opposite sex, especially their bodies, and avoid frequent association with the opposite sex, besides your spouse; as for your spouse, do not dwell on her body, but dwell instead on the beauty of your spouse's mind and heart.

Is this a disparagement of the dignity of the body, and therefore the person? Is it a failure to appreciate the transformative power of grace, and sexuality within marriage as a means of grace? I don't think the counsels mentioned above preclude a further remedy of trying to intentionally realize the the nature of the gift of self within the sexual act, seeing the spouse as a subject and not an object to be used. One can see sexuality as holy, good, and even sacramental, and still appreciate the weakness of the flesh, and the ease at which lust can creep in. Regardless, certainly St. Thomas and St. Francis, who accurately reflect the consensus of the tradition on this point, seem to judge chastity just as much a matter of fighting concupiscence and vigilantly seeking detachment and ascesis in order to avoid the pull that the lust of the flesh can have. Whether or not Chris West gives sufficient consideration to this tradition, I think this is some of what David Schindler had in mind. And if I understand him correctly, this is the theological work that needs to be done: uniting Pope John Paul's emphasis on the intentional understanding of the gift of self signified and actualized by the body, and the tradition's emphasis on the reality of concupiscence and the need to exercise caution and ascesis against the flesh.

Letter to a lukewarm American Catholic (foremost myself)

At an earlier time in your life, you went to Mass, perhaps prayed, even felt the emotional power of certain retreats or spiritual experiences. But you went away to college, found little said about that life, and a wholly different culture and life instead around you. Later you graduated, began to work, to live what seemed to be—at least according to what you have seen on television and movies—a normal life of a young adult in America. You avoided the extreme vices and debauchery of the party crowd, the night life, those who wasted away in sex and drugs. But you subscribed to the popular worldview reflected in television, magazines, movies, and advertisements, common among most people your age: find someone you love and marry; find a job that you like and that pays well, and start to make money; get a house, nice cars, nice things—televisions, music, clothes, food; take vacations, enjoying the pleasures that life has to offer; and have some friends with which you can share those pleasures, and turn to in times of difficulty or sorrow. That is why you are working after all. And if you have a child or two: provide for them, that is, give them the same pleasures you work for, and the opportunity to one day make money, fall in love, make friends, have a home, and enjoy life with their friends and families, finally on their own too. Maybe you’ve even started thinking about retirement: getting out from under debt; enjoying the luxury of no longer having to work; traveling and taking vacations; visiting friends and family. This is indeed what we have been taught to envision as a life well lived.

But it’s hard to see where the Gospel, where Christianity fits into any of this.

For some, “God” is a safety, something to use to cover your base, to appeal to when things are tough or miserable, with the hope that “God” will make things better if we ask, since he “loves us” and “wants us to be happy”. Ultimately, belief in some “God” out there ensures the truth that everything will work out in the end. And in a sort of vague, back-of-the-mind way, we occasionally think about, or tell our kids, that when people die, they go to Heaven where they will be able to do everything they wanted to, but just didn’t have enough time or power to do here on earth, as well as see all their loved ones who have died too—as long as they are “good”, that is, which means pretty much everyone except for murderers.

But that is not the Gospel, that is not Christianity, at all. The God of Jesus Christ is not like this at all; and if that is the extant of our “faith”, then we do not really know him, or his good news.

The God that the world, that most Americans talk about (if they do at all), is a pagan god. He has some of the names and trappings of the God of Jesus Christ, but he really is not the same. He is a sort of benevolent power that made the world at some point, but otherwise only intervenes now and then to help “good people” get what they want, to alleviate suffering, and to make everything work out in the end (although no one has any idea how he does this). And, like all pagan gods, this god indeed only exists in our imaginations.

The reality is far more fearsome (and wonderful, but the “fearsome” comes first).

The reality is, that our culture—all of television, magazines, movies, stores, advertising, all of it—wants to forget the one central, indubitable fact of our existence: its contingency. In other words: we will die. It will be when we do not want it, in a way we would not prefer it, and more than anything, it will take away what is most precious to us: our life, and our connection with this world. In an instant: all gone. All that will be left of us will be what people remember, and what we have made—and given a hundred years or so, that too will be gone and forgotten. As far as we can tell, as much scientific evidence that we have, there is nothing after death. (This is why so many scientists are materialists and believe death to be the absolute death: because scientific evidence to the contrary is hard to come by, and unconvincing.) Furthermore, much of life, much more than our culture would have us know, is suffering. Instead of perpetual beauty, nothing is more certain than the fact that we will grow old, slow down, lose the beauty of our life, lose our smooth skin, our muscles, our hair, and gradually, get more sick, more often. We will even gradually lose our memory and consciousness. Terrifying, really. And more terrifying illness and tragedy can strike at any time: accident, cancer, heart attack, paralysis, disease. Beyond this, the hopes we have for success, for pleasure, contentment, enjoyment, will never work out as we like. We will never make enough money, maintain our friendships, keep our families totally together, perfectly protect our loved ones, and avoid material suffering. And friends and family, even our closest loved ones, will never understand us or love us as we really hope they will—they will let us down, and some will surely hurt us, perhaps severely. This truth of life—that it is hard, short, and full of much suffering, and that the wicked often prosper, while the virtuous suffer—was known both to the philosophers in antiquity, and to the Jews before Christ (in fact, the whole book of Ecclesiastes in the Old Testament is about this point).

Pagan culture accepted this, for it was all they knew, and gave a word to it, “fate”, which was not meant to inspire, gladden, or give hope. On the contrary, its sole purpose was to underscore the teaching, don’t aim too high, for you will surely end up disappointed. The afterlife for them was a dull, dark, and sad place.

Today, we have allowed the culture, the media, to obscure the terrible inevitability of death from us. Like taking a test, but at the last minute having the teacher throw away the answer sheet, or playing a sports game, and at the last minute erasing the score and calling a draw, or falling in love, but right before uniting with the beloved having them disappear—so too does life seem in the face of the inevitable fact of death.

This is indeed what it means to be a human on this earth, as far as we can know on our own: lost, waiting for the inevitable misery and certain death, without hope or happiness beyond the fleeting moment. For in the next moment, it all can be taken away, whether by bad luck, or eventual death. In summary, what our culture is lying to us about, what at all costs it is trying to keep us from remembering, is that we are unhappy, and afraid. That’s the bad, but very real and true, news.

But there is good news. It isn’t cheap news, or easy news, but it is good, and it is certain: death does not have to be the end, and real joy, happiness, and peace, is possible. This news came in a small way and in a small place: it began when Abraham heard “God” speaking to him, telling him to pick up all his things, his family, his tribe, and move thousands of miles to a new land. Eventually his descendents learned the name of this “God”, and that he is in fact the only true God, that all other gods are illusions. And his descendents learned about a promise this God made, a promise for eventual unending prosperity, peace, and happiness—although they were very unclear about what it meant, since none of them saw it in their lifetimes. But they also learned that this God is a jealous God, that he cares about how they act, morally, and he fiercely cares that they have faith in him alone, trust him—not possessions, not fortune, not their own abilities and power—alone, and ultimately, obey him first and foremost. They learned that this God was a God of mercy and faithfulness, but that he also hated sin and punished the wicked—in short, that fearing him was the beginning of wisdom.

Eventually, in the fullness of time, these descendents learned that the old law God gave them could not save them, but despite that God had a greater hope in store for them than earthly prosperity and security, and he would give them a new power so that they could love him perfectly. This God wanted to save them from their wickedness—for even with God’s law they had never been able to stop being wicked—and then bring them into his own divine life, in a mystical way, beginning here, but even more fully after death. For this, God gave them a new law, the law of the Gospel, and the gift of his own power within them, so that they might not love the world but instead be holy and love God alone. And he gave them this power through his Son, who took on a human body and soul as his own and died for our wickedness, as the perfect sacrifice to make up for our offense against God. And then his Son Jesus rose from the dead and sent his Holy Spirit, who gave these descendents the Church, a home wherein they would find the fulfillment of those promises God made years before.

And the great news is, death is not the end! We can hope for joy, for happiness that is secure, for peace. But like before, this gift of hope was to be a covenant, and these descendents, us Christians, in order to share in the gift of the Spirit, must have faith and obey God’s law. On our own we cannot do this, because of our weakness, but God gave us the Church to provide us with the source of his grace to keep us strong and secure, in order that we might persevere in faith until death, and work out our salvation by becoming a new kind of person. And this perseverance will be a battle, as evil powers and demons will try to persuade us to disobey and not follow God’s law. Therefore, we should learn to fight and by virtue grow in faith, hope, and love, growing in holiness, becoming saints, imitators of Jesus, living against the world, the flesh, and the devil, living instead according to the Spirit. For in the end, we will be judged by God: those who have persevered in the Spirit and followed God’s law will spend eternity with God in heaven; those who have not will spend eternity being punished in hell.

Can I bring this back to our everyday language, to where we are today? Back to the way of the world. What we learn from the Gospel is that life is not about success, enjoyment, accomplishment, friends, family, passing it on. Those things are not always bad, but independent of God’s plan, they surely will be. Nothing but holiness will make us happy. Without holiness, not a good job, lots of money, great vacations, our spouse or our family, none of it matters. And not 10% or 50% holiness, holiness on Sunday mornings or some of the week, but striving for 100% all of the time holiness. Which means, loving God first above all else, and only loving anything else because of our love of God and his will. We will only work, make money, marry, have a family, in such a way that leads to holiness. Which means, we will not make false idols, and give the love and honor that God alone deserves to any created, earthly thing. And when we screw up, which we will, it means not despairing, but turning again to God’s mercy, and trying again, remembering that God loves us even when we fail, even if he wants us not to fail.

It also means, fighting our inclination to sin, the temptations of the world, and the attacks of the devil, since these are our main obstacles to loving God foremost. Which practically means, detachment from pleasures, honors, success, popularity, even preferring to be humble, meek, simple, ignored, poor, and despised, if that means that we can be assured of being even closer to God. It means, not first working for a career or worldly success, but first discerning and choosing a vocation, and putting that first. It means praying as much as we are able, really making prayer the most important activity in our lives, reading Scripture daily, going to Mass every Sunday, and even during the week whenever we can, going to confession frequently, only receiving Communion when we are in the right state, talking about the Gospel to our friends and family, and teaching it to our children. It means talking in ways that are pure and reverent and respectful. It means dressing simply and modestly. It means sharing our possessions, not making them important in our lives, being detached about money, giving not just when it is easy but until it hurts, trusting that God will provide. It means treating sex as the most precious, special, sacred thing on earth, and talking about it that way, not with vulgar or abusive language, and being careful how we give in to and respond to our own sexual desires, what we look at, think about, say, and having sex in the right way, not primarily for my own pleasure, but in order to love my spouse and have children. It means loving our neighbor, not just our friends, treating all people as Christ has treated us. It means forgiving others without expecting them to make amends, being gentle and merciful to not just our friends but our enemies too. It means fighting laziness and sloth, eating modestly, resisting anger and envy, not holding grudges or seeking revenge, not calling attention to ourselves and seeking honor and fame. Lastly it means remembering, everyday, that God will judge all of us; and without faith, and persevering in holiness, there is no hope of heaven.

Finally, holiness means coming to know the God who loves us with a fierce and jealous love, who will never stop pursuing each one of us, and providentially guides the events of our life so that all things work toward this uniting with God. It means living the reality of heaven now, by grace and the sacraments, sharing the joy and delight that comes from the knowledge that we are perfectly known and loved. It means actually experiencing the awesome giving and receiving of this love-union with God right now. It means every time we go to Mass, stepping into the reality of heaven and seeing and experiencing that heavenly joy of all the angels and saints right now. As Pope Benedict put it:

You will not be afraid any longer to lose your freedom, because you will live it fully by giving it away in love. You will no longer be attached to material goods, because you will feel within you the joy of sharing them. You will cease to be sad with the sadness of the world, but you will feel sorrow at evil and rejoice at goodness, especially for mercy and forgiveness.

If all this sounds strange and even crazy, that is because the world really doesn’t know the Gospel. If it sounds hard and a bit depressing, that’s because we’ve grown up surrounded by the lies of the culture, about what is beautiful and enjoyable and worth doing.

In fact, there is nothing else in the world that brings joy, peace, and excitement that is deep and lasting, but holiness. Nothing else. And Jesus said, his yoke is easy and his burden light. With grace, all things are possible. That’s why we have so many saints to look at—not primarily to help us find lost things—but to inspire us by their example, to let us know that it is possible to live this way. And that is why we have the Church, the sacraments, the help of so many means of grace, to help us to depend more on God’s power than our own. It is possible to live this way, and it is never too late to start over and try again; to abandon mediocrity (since God said he will spit out the lukewarm), and stake everything on holiness, seeking above all else, to be a saint.

Pope Benedict on the Trinity and certain disputed questions in theology

From Pope Benedict's homily for the Trinity Sunday Liturgy:

Today we contemplate the Most Holy Trinity as it was made know to us by Jesus. He revealed to us that God is love “not in the unity of a single person, but in the Trinity of a single substance” (Preface): the Trinity is Creator and merciful Father; Only Begotten Son, eternal Wisdom incarnate, dead and risen for us; it is finally the Holy Spirit, who moves everything, cosmos and history, toward the final recapitulation. Three Persons who are one God because the Father is love, the Son is love, the Spirit is love. God is love and only love, most pure, infinite and eternal love. The Trinity does not live in a splendid solitude, but is rather inexhaustible font of life that unceasingly gives itself and communicates itself.

We can in some way intuit this, whether we observe the macro-universe: our earth, the planets, the stars, the galaxies; or the micro-universe: cells, atoms, elementary particles. The “name” of the Most Holy Trinity is in a certain way impressed upon everything that exists, because everything that exists, down to the least particle, is a being in relation, and thus God-relation shines forth, ultimately creative Love shines forth. All comes from love, tends toward love, and is moved by love, naturally, according to different grades of consciousness and freedom. “O Lord, our Lord, / how wondrous is your name over all the earth!” (Psalm 8:2) -- the Psalmist exclaims. In speaking of the “name” the Bible indicates God himself, his truest identity; an identity that shines forth in the whole of creation, where every being, by the very fact of existing and by the “fabric” of which it is made, refers to a transcendent Principle, to eternal and infinite Life that gives itself, in a word: to Love. “In him,” St. Paul says, on the Areopagus in Athens, “we live and move and have our being” (Acts 17:28). The strongest proof that we are made in the image of the Trinity is this: only love makes us happy, because we live in relation, and we live to love and be loved. Using an analogy suggested by biology, we could say the human “genome” is profoundly imprinted with the Trinity, of God-Love.

The Pope seems to implicitly comment on several theological questions in this text (which he has in fact dwelt on in several of his earlier writings, especially in Introduction to Christianity and The God of Jesus Christ--nothing new here):

1. Nothing of the Trinity can be inferred by God's actions ad extra. (This is the classic immanent/economic Trinity question.) Some currents of Thomism hold that God relates to the world only as one substance, and if we can say that certain missions can be appropriated to the persons, this is more a matter of fittingness, rather than each Divine Person having a necessarily distinct role. If the Trinity is known, it is only because of strict revelation. Inferences from creation (the Victorinian, Bonaventurian traditions, to mention a couple) are illusory: nothing of the nature of the Trinity can be inferred from creation. Only fitting analogies can be offered. To quote Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange:

We can know nothing about God naturally except through created effects, as was shown above, and the natural principles which are known from a consideration of created being. But from these created effects, at least those that are natural, we cannot arrive at the knowledge of the Trinity because these effects proceed from the creative power or God's omnipotence, which is common to the entire Trinity and, like the divine intelligence and the divine will, pertains to the unity of the essence and not to the distinction of the persons. Therefore it is impossible to come to the knowledge of the Trinity by natural reason.

2. Man being in the image and likeness of God is to be understood in the sense of, by man's intellectual nature, he is created a spiritual being, like God who is pure spirit; it is fitting to see a likeness between the processions of man's mind and the processions in the Trinity; it is not fitting to see a likeness in man's body or relations with others, and the Trinity. Since creation is a work ad extra, it is done by the one Divine substance. We cannot speak of Persons creating, unless by fitting appropriation. As a creation, the Trinity cannot be inferred from man's intellectual nature, except by fittingness: this is where the analogies from man's intellectual nature come in. Furthermore, all in God is one (simple) save for the distinction of Persons (relations of origin); man's relationality is nothing like the Trinity, as he is distinct from others because of a common form individuated in different matter. Man is in the image of God because of his intellect, not his relations with others. He is created in the Divine Image because, like God, he can know and love, unlike other creatures (except angels).

[For the time being I'll say, in Thomas this is unclear; cf. ST I.93.5]