What Covers a Multitude of Sins?

• STEPHEN P. WHITE

There is no such thing as a private sin.

 

Our moral failings — whatever they may be — have consequences that extend out far beyond our own personal guilt or innocence.  My own moral failings have consequences for my wife and children, for my friends, and so on.  My failings cause others to suffer, often in invisible ways.  My sin breeds sin and stymies virtue, in myself and in others.  How much better off would those around me be if I were a saint?

Sometimes, we are only just able to glimpse the moral filaments that connect our actions to the lives of those arounds us.  At other times, the consequences of our sins are all too apparent.  Every father who has caught his own uncharitable words in the mouth of one of his children knows the power of his own bad example.  Sometimes sins we foolishly hoped would remain secret are drawn into the light for all to see, to our own horror and humiliation.

Such moments of recognition can be occasions for grace to stir the conscience — like the cock crow that brought Peter to bitter tears.  But such occasions, in which we are put on the spot by our own consciences, do not always result in repentance and conversion.  At least not immediately.

In Mark's Gospel, a rich man comes to Jesus eager to do what he must do to inherit eternal life.  The man is at first pleased to hear that he has done all that is required, but his pleasure turns to disappointment when Our Lord asks for more.  We all know the story:

"You are lacking in one thing.  Go, sell what you have, and give to [the] poor and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me."

At that statement his face fell, and he went away sad, for he had many possessions.

The rich man was so close; he was lacking only one thing.  But he would not give up his attachment.  And Christ, who "looking at him, loved him," let him go.

Iwas reminded of this passage this week by the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith's response (here) to a question about "blessings for unions of persons of the same sex."  The CDF's ruling, backed by Pope Francis, is that same-sex unions cannot be blessed: "[God] does not and cannot bless sin."  This has caused anguish among those who have long hoped that the Church would find a way around Scripture and Tradition to embrace same-sex unions.

That this comes from Pope Francis — the pope of "Who am I to judge," the pope who offered measured support for same-sex civil unions, the pope in whom so many had placed their hopes for a sweeping change in doctrine — has made this an even more bitter pill to swallow.

The German bishops, who many expected to openly embrace such blessings through their Binding Synodal Process, are "not happy."  Hundreds of German priests are openly defiant.  Many other Catholics are outraged.  Some are simply walking away.

Which brings me back to the story of the rich man.

God offers mercy to all, but His offer of mercy does not spare us difficult choices.

For those of us who see the CDF's clarification as necessary and welcome, as I do, it might be tempting to dismiss this anger and dissent with, "Good!  If they will cling to what is dear rather than follow the truth, then let them go!"

It may come to that.  Some may leave, but it would not be happy thing.  The Church is for sinners.

No.  To jeer at the defeat of others in the face of hard truths is hubris.  We are all of us in need of mercy; knowing that ought to humble us.

I was reminded of the story of the rich man, not by those who are walking away from Christ and His Church on account of a hard teaching, but because it is so easy to see myself in the place of the rich man: proud, content, and unwilling to let go of what prevents me growing closer to God.

What the Church asks of Catholics with same sex-attraction may be unambiguous and simple chastity — but that does not make it easy.  God offers mercy to all, but His offer of mercy does not spare us difficult choices.  In a sense, God's greatest mercy is that choice: he offers us a way out, narrow though it may be, rather than leaving us as we are.  And though He looks at us and loves us, as he did the rich man, he leaves it to us to accept the offer.  Or not.

That thought should make us all tremble.

In the weeks and months ahead, there will be much discussion of the CDF's statement.  There will be many hard truths to defend and arguments to be made.  The issue will undoubtedly get dragged into our political debates: think of the Equality Act currently before Congress.  And it is likely to continue generating acrimony between and among Catholics.

But if sin breeds sin and stymies virtue, then love accomplishes the opposite.  As welcome as the clarity of the CDF statement may be, that clarity does not absolve any of us from the work of loving our enemies, let alone our brothers and sisters in Christ.

We pass up the opportunity to love at our own peril.

https://www.thecatholicthing.org/2021/03/18/what-covers-a-multitude-of-sins/

 

Acknowledgement

Stephen P. White, "What Covers a Multitude of Sins?" The Catholic Thing (March 18, 2021).

Reprinted with permission from The Catholic Thing.  Image credit: Heinrich Hofmann, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

The Author

Stephen P. White is a fellow in the Catholic Studies Program at the Ethics and Public Policy Center. Mr. White's work focuses on the application of Catholic social teaching to a broad spectrum of contemporary political and cultural issues. His is the author of Red, White, Blue, and Catholic.

 

In Gratitude for Joe Biden

By Fr. Jerry Pokorsky ( bio - articles - email ) | Feb 26, 2021     

Sacraments, according to the Baltimore Catechism, are outward signs instituted by Christ to give grace. The Sacraments define and direct our lives. Our choices form us. When we choose to live a sacramental life, in a sense we become sacraments reflecting the Lord. But the contrary is also true.

In the Sacraments Jesus accompanies us throughout our lives: Baptism and birth, Confession and healing, the Eucharist and food, Confirmation and maturation. Marriage governs families and Holy Orders governs the Church. The Last Sacrament, the Anointing of the Sick, prepares us to enter through the narrow gate of death with God’s grace.

All creation has beautiful sacramental aspects. “The heavens are telling the glory of God; and the firmament proclaims his handiwork.” [Psalm 19:1] Psalm 104 is a poignant hymn describing how all living things clothe God with “honor and majesty.” Wherever we can see the handiwork of God, we see His image.

God created man in His image and likeness. Our response to His grace accentuates the Divine imprint. The saints in their goodness—Mary above all—reflect the holiness of God: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior….” [Luke 1:47]

But sin and evil, by analogy, are also formative and have their own “sacramental” aspects. Perhaps it is better to say, anti-sacramental characteristics. In the Gospels, we see various metaphors for sin. Leprosy is an outward sign of sin in general. Above all, the Cross is a terrible anti-sacrament of sin. But from the point of view of the Resurrection, it is the triumphant sign of final victory.

Just as holy people magnify the Lord, those spiritually deformed by the evil they commit become anti-sacraments of evil. Solomon in his splendor reflected the Lord’s wisdom. But when he took pride in God’s gifts, failing to attribute them to the Lord, he became an anti-sacrament of apostasy and his kingdom split apart.

Throughout our lives we walk the line, magnifying God’s holiness or reflecting sinful pride and rebellion. It is holy and good continually to seek the crown of sanctity. But a single seriously evil act—committed with sufficient freedom and informed consent—threatens our eternity. So it is presumptuous and dangerous to proclaim oneself as a devout Catholic or to encourage (or even allow) the description.

President Biden’s supporters repeatedly claim that he is a devout Catholic. In 2005, Biden himself protested those who questioned his Catholicism: “The next Republican that tells me I’m not religious I’m going to shove my rosary beads down their throat.” But the words of Jesus are foreboding: “Not every one who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ shall enter the kingdom of heaven, but he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.” [Mt. 7:21] Biden’s habitual and unapologetic sinful acts are on full display.

In less than a month after his inauguration, he issued a statement celebrating the 48th anniversary of Roe v. Wade. He said he is “committed to codifying” the decision that legalized abortion. He promised he will be “appointing judges that respect foundational precedents like Roe.” He rescinded the pro-life Mexico City Policy, which ensured that foreign aid would not go to organizations that perform or refer for abortions.

Biden revoked the Trump administration’s ban on so-called gender transitioning in the military, allowing troops to serve based on their gender identity. He called on Congress to quickly pass the Equality Act, which would add sexual orientation and gender identity as protected classes under the Civil Rights Act of 1964. The Washington Post called Joe Biden a “president who has been called the most pro-transgender in history.”

Biden’s nominee to lead the Department of Health and Human Services, Xavier Becerra, like Biden is Catholic. But contrary to the moral law, he supports legislation that permits partial-birth abortion, forces every healthcare plan to pay for abortions, forces pro-life pregnancy centers to advertise abortions, forces the Little Sisters of the Poor to pay for contraception and abortion drugs, and allows assisted suicide.

For most of his political life—from his consistent pro-abortion record to his officiating at a gay wedding in 2016—despite his Catholic affiliation and public pious practices, Joe Biden has magnified and institutionalized countless major violations of the Ten Commandments. The hypocrisy rivals that of the chief priests and Pharisees and is worthy of the same condemnation. Indeed, Biden is the most aggressively anti-Catholic President in history.

Meanwhile, Catholic clergymen are in disarray. Some of the bishops have tried silence, presumably hoping to avoid greater scandal. Others use flattery, praising Biden for those of his policies that dovetail with USCCB politics, but do not bind the faithful in conscience. A few bishops have attempted praiseworthy polemical pushbacks.

But so far the bishops have not initiated a single disciplinary measure to protect the Catholic faith from scandal. On the contrary, several prominent bishops have declared Biden worthy of Catholic-in-good-standing status. The Georgetown Jesuits celebrate with elation his Mass attendance as President.

As perhaps the most powerful man in the world, Biden’s insistent claim that he is a devout Catholic forces an unavoidable choice. We either: stand with the Church and her sacraments and reject Biden’s iconic culture-of-death policies, or we join those who celebrate Biden’s flouting of Church teaching. In so doing, we will reveal whether we intend to magnify the Lord or magnify Biden’s immorality.

Some prominent bishops and cardinals have already declared themselves sheep of Biden’s flock. Others apparently hope to go unnoticed by their silence. But they are successors of St. Peter, St. Paul, and the other apostles, who were not silenced even when authorities threatened them with incarceration or martyrdom. (Of course, fear of crippling lawsuits likely explains a good deal of current episcopal paralysis.) So their continued silence is an anti-sacrament of cowardice and the spiritual treason of collaborating with the enemy.

The election of Biden has forced a crisis. From the ashes, we can expect the Holy Spirit to raise up successors to those who opposed another anti-Catholic tyrant: Saint John Fisher and Saint Thomas More. May there be many of them.

If only for the clarity this brings to the Church, we have Joe Biden to thank.

https://www.catholicculture.org/commentary/in-gratitude-for-joe-biden/

Fr. Jerry Pokorsky is a priest of the Diocese of Arlington who has also served as a financial administrator in the Diocese of Lincoln. Trained in business and accounting, he also holds a Master of Divinity and a Master’s in moral theology. Father Pokorsky co-founded both CREDO and Adoremus, two organizations deeply engaged in authentic liturgical renewal. He writes regularly for a number of Catholic websites and magazines.  See full bio.

When Catholics Disagree With The Church

 

“The Canon of Issues”: When Catholics Disagree With the Church

FEBRUARY 12, 2021 BY DR. STUART SQUIRES LEAVE A COMMENT

Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI named the long list of questions that we Catholics confront in contemporary society the “canon of issues.” This canon includes women’s ordination, contraception, celibacy of priests, and remarriage of divorced persons. These issues, among others, often cause tension between many Catholics and the Catholic Church, because many Catholics feel that the Church’s teachings are outdated.

This tension leads to a variety of responses. Some Catholics abandon the Church and become Protestants, claiming that Protestant ecclesial communities do a superior job of articulating the Gospel in light of the signs of the times. Others form new communities, and claim that they are the true Catholic Church. Still others are so disturbed by the Church’s teachings that they reject the idea of religion and God altogether. The majority, I speculate, dissents in private but, for any number of reasons, do not wish to leave. They believe certain teachings of the Church while ignoring others that they find hard to stomach. The question before us, then, is this: what are we — as thoughtful and compassionate Catholics of western civilization in the twenty-first century — to do when our own personal beliefs come into conflict with what the Catholic Church declares as Truth? I would like to offer a few thoughts about the process I go through when asking myself this question.

The first thing I do is pray for wisdom.

The second thing I do is pray for wisdom.

The third thing I do is pray for wisdom.

The fourth thing I do is to learn what the Catholic Church actually teaches about these issues. If one knows where to begin to look, a sophisticated and nuanced understanding can be gained fairly quickly. Although the Catechism is always a great place to start, learning what the Church says is not the end of the investigation, because each issue does not exist in a vacuum. I next place my new knowledge into the larger context of the Church’s thinking.

Let us use contraception as an example. Once I have learned what the Church says about it (it arrests the fullness of the act of love), I now must locate this new knowledge on the web of related ideas so that I may understand why the Church prohibits it. In order to have a full picture, I have to see how She understands rightly-ordered sexual behavior (self-giving love) — which is directly connected to the question of what it means to be a human being (created in the image and likeness of God) — which is directly connected to the question of who God is (a Triune communion of love) —which is directly connected to the question of who Jesus Christ is (the fullest manifestation of God’s love). All of these points — what is proper sexuality, who are we, who is God, and who is Jesus? — must be understood in relation to each other, and as a unified whole. Although learning about the Church’s position on contraception may be accomplished in short order, placing it in this constellation of ideas in order to comprehend the Church’s coherent system of thinking takes serious study, contemplation, struggle, conversations, and, most importantly, prayer.

Does the journey end there? Will I automatically be convinced to change my opinions to conform to the Church once I have done the intellectual heavy lifting? Often times, the answer is “no,” as the head and the heart do not always speak the same language. It often feels, therefore, as if I am back to square one. Here I stand, toe-to-toe with the Church, paralyzed to the point of inaction. What do I do? Do I stick to my guns? Do I walk away and find another community that articulates a message that fits my established belief system? I could find a community that agrees with whatever I have already decided is true, but I wonder if in doing so I am bending the Truth to fit my desires. Truth challenges me to bend myself to it, not the other way around.

In order to break this stalemate, we must investigate the nature of our interlocutor. In other words, we must ask “what is the Church?” Is She, on the one hand, a man-made institution that centuries of celibate men in Rome, who have political and financial power, have used to impose their rules on the rest of us? If so, then I think that it is our right and our responsibility to discard any established teachings that sound antiquated to our Postmodern ears. If this is the Church, though, then I need to ask myself: “what am I doing here?” If the Church is just a random collection of culturally constructed rules that were codified by men long dead, why would Catholics give themselves to Her?

Though the Church is a human institution, is She also something more? Is She what She claims to be — that is, the mystical body of Christ that was founded on Peter, whose teachings have been handed down through apostolic succession and, most importantly, is guided by the Holy Spirit? Is the Church not only a human institution but a God-given institution that has been provided for us so that we are not left to wander the desert of this life, so that we don’t have to create for ourselves the definitions of right and wrong, and so that we don’t have to construct for ourselves the meaning of life? Each Sunday, we declare that we believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church, not a Church that articulates the fickle whims of a given age. If the Church truly is guided by the Holy Spirit, then I need to take Her teachings very seriously.

When I think about these teachings, I am greatly comforted by the thought that they were not established overnight. The Church has always taken Her time and developed Her ideas over many centuries. Papal infallibility, for example (which, I’ll admit, used to give me trouble), was not something that was established the day after Pentecost. It wasn’t until 1870 at the First Vatican Council that the Church made an official claim about infallibility, which had been debated for over 600 years. Some people are frustrated by how long it takes the Church to articulate definitive teachings; I wouldn’t want Her to act any more quickly for fear of hasty, trendy, or sloppy theological conclusions.

Is my understanding of the Church too optimistic? Am I naïve? I’m sure we have all met clergy who have led less than exemplary personal lives, or — because of a poor seminary formation — made statements that are against the Church’s teachings. Should these indiscretions lead us to say that the Church is flawed at Her core? Any surface reading of the history of Christianity will quickly reveal the atrocious behavior that has been done in the name of the Church and, therefore, suggest such a conclusion. We are all aware of the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, and infidelities of the clergy, both past and present. How could a God-given institution allow such shameful behavior?

While it is true that Christianity has a shady past, we should never confuse the sinfulness of individual popes, bishops, priests, or lay persons with the Church, because the Church is not the numerical sum of all Catholics who are alive at any given moment. Rather, the Church, to use language from Vatican II, is, among other things, “the spotless spouse of the spotless lamb” (LG 1.6), the “mother who, by baptism, brings forth daughters and sons, who are conceived by the Holy Spirit and born of God, to a new and immortal life,” and the “virgin . . . who keeps, in its entirety and purity, the faith She pledged to her spouse” (LG 8.64). The line between the sinfulness of humanity and the purity of the Church is best heard each week during Mass before the Sign of Peace, when the priest prays to God, saying “look not on our sins, but on the faith of your Church.” This simple, yet elegant, prayer points to the difference between our sinful flaws and the holiness of God’s Church.

With this understanding of the Church in mind, we may return to our main question: what do I do when I disagree with this Church? As it is impossible to force myself to change my opinions overnight, I believe that the only course of action is to submit to the Church in obedience until I have been converted by the grace of God. For many of us, this word, “obedience,” causes us to shift uncomfortably in our seats, because, in our Postmodern, individualistic society, we bristle at the idea of obedience. The thought of it makes us nervous because of our “don’t tread on me” attitude, and the primacy of “freedom” in our culture. The popular definition of freedom, which is at the center of our American ethos, is: “do whatever you want, as long as it does not hurt anyone else.” We feel that obedience is equal to slavery.

But is this the way we should understand obedience? I think that it should be seen in a different light. Obedience is not a rejection of the freedom to do whatever you want. Rather, it leads us to true freedom — freedom from the radical slavery of sin so that we may be able to choose the Good and, therefore, to become what we were intended to be: faithful sons and daughters of God. Obedience is not its own end; it is a means that leads us to the end of a rightly ordered relationship with God by calling us to move beyond ourselves. Through obedience, we are liberated from the narrowness of our own desires and it allows us to have a clear vision of a gracious God who will lift us up to love Him, and each other, properly.

Allow me an example borrowed from Fr. Servais Pinckaers. Everyone has the freedom to walk up to a piano and to start banging on it. But only the most radical Postmodernists among us would dare to call that music. In order to create something beautiful, a musician first must spend years training to be conformed to the rules of music. Although our musician does not master music theory for the sake of the theory itself, it is only after she has done so that she will be able to craft a song that will allow her to express her most intimate longings. In a similar way, it is only by being formed to the Church — not to the cacophony of our own disordered hearts — that we will become spiritual virtuosi.

This idea of obedience, it must be made clear, is not proclaimed at the expense of a well-formed conscience, which St. John Henry Cardinal Newman described as the “aboriginal Vicar of Christ.” Indeed, the Catechismclearly stresses the importance of one’s well-formed conscience as an authority. It defines a well-formed conscience as “[formulating] its judgments according to reason, in conformity with the true good willed by the wisdom of the Creator” (1783). This statement prompts me to ask two sets of questions. First, when is my conscience finally formed? Don’t I spend my entire life forming my conscience so that, as Ignatius of Loyola stated, I will “think with the Church”? As formation is a life-long process, my conscience should never be exercised independently of the teachings of the Church. When it does act independently, more often than not I have been led astray by my own passionate attachments.

Second, how do I determine what is the “true good willed by the Wisdom of the Creator”? The Bible could tell me, but anyone who has ever read it knows how confusing it can be, and how easy it is to come up with dozens of contradicting interpretations. Vincent of Lérins, in the fifth century, recognized this when he said, in his Commonitorium, that the Bible “seems to be capable of as many interpretations as there are interpreters.” It is only through the Church, then, that I come to understand what the Catechism means by “the true good willed by the wisdom of the Creator.” Vincent said this as well when it claimed that “the rule for the right understanding of the prophets and apostles should be framed in accordance with the standard of Ecclesiastical and Catholic interpretation.”

While the idea of obedience often may make us uncomfortable, deep down it also resonates with us at the same time. When we go to Mass each week and recite the Profession of Faith, we express to everyone present our deep-seated belief that there is a Greater Reality than us. And, by bowing and saying “Amen” when the Body of Christ is offered, we set aside our own desires in order to be part of that Greater Reality by joining ourselves to the Church through the Eucharist.

The final thing I do is pray for wisdom, and along with Mary — our best model of obedience — say: Here I stand, “the servant of the Lord; let it be it done unto me, according to Thy word.”

FILED UNDER: ARTICLES TAGGED WITH: CHURCH TEACHING, DISSENT FROM CHURCH TEACHING, FORMATION OF CONSCIENCE, GUIDANCE OF THE HOLY SPIRIT, HOLINESS OF THE CHURCH

About Dr. Stuart Squires

Dr. Squires studied theology at The Catholic University of America (Ph.D.), The University of Chicago (M.A.), and DePaul University (B.A.). He has published several scholarly articles on the Church Fathers in Augustiniana, The Scottish Journal of Theology, Cistercian Studies Quarterly, The Heythrop Journal, and Augustinianum. He has published a book in 2019 with Wipf and Stock titled The Pelagian Controversy: An Introduction to the Enemies of Grace and the Conspiracy of Lost Souls.