Catholic Metanarrative

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Article: Heroes and Saints

DONALD DEMARCO

The saint, because he is real, fully faithful, permanent, and transcultural, is the best role model for children.

It is a truism that children need role models. Parents, surely, are solemnly obliged to fill this role. But children also need models that are larger than life. Hence, the enduring place of myths and fairy tales. Their only glaring weakness, however, is that their robust and immortal characters are not real.

When we look to real people who are larger than life, we are confronted with a choice between secular heroes and genuine saints. The usual problem with the former is that they are seriously flawed, particularly in their personal lives. Their shortcomings inevitably come to light, no matter how much their images are sanitized and propped up by media hype.

Take the case of Henry David Thoreau. I recall, with some dismay, an ABC television program's concelebration of Independence Day and the 100th anniversary of the Statue of Liberty. Liberty and independence were very much in the air on this occasion, and the figure shown to embody these cherished American values was Thoreau. In this 1986 dramatization, we followed him as he walked briskly and defiantly along the edge of Walden Pond. He was doing something he could not have done in the middle of the nineteenth century-reciting his own prose to a crew of pursuing technicians. The sequence ended as he delivered the now-too familiar lines of his anthem to untrammeled individualism: "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."

Thoreau embodies the American spirit of liberty and independence. But there is a crack in his armor. Liberty and independence, separated from humanity and responsibility, are mere abstractions. They do not provide a formula for real living. Thoreau's one-sidedness and his preference for the discarnate naturally made him an enemy of Christianity. After all, Christ extolled corporal works of mercy.

Thoreau was not a man who wanted to touch people. He complained, "We live thick and are in each other's way, and stumble over one another," and he recommended that there be "but one inhabitant to a square mile." "The value of man is not in his skin," he asserted, "that we should touch him." He failed to recognize that to be enfleshed is part of being human. And while he is, to many people, a hero, he is not a saint.

An Exercise in Contrasts

Conversely, there is no saint in the hagiography of the Catholic Church who better exemplifies the importance of corporality than St. Francis of Assisi. The story is told that when Francis first touched a leper and even kissed the sick man's fingers, a sweetness, happiness, and joy streamed from his soul. According to one of his biographers, Johannes Jørgensen, by overcoming his repugnance to touching the most repulsive of men, Francis gained the greatest victory man can win-victory over himself. The chronicles of the life of St. Francis tell stories of other instances in which he touched lepers and miracles of healing took place. Moreover, the stigmata that Francis suffered can be viewed as God's penetrating touch that has both physical as well as sacramental significance. In contradistinction with Thoreau, Francis wanted to be with people. He founded communities, rebuilt churches, anointed the sick, and begged food from door to door. St. Francis was intensely tactile.

Humor, joy, and an intense love for God and man are qualities that characterize saints. Indeed, saints are not champions of a fashion or an ideology, but whole, integrated human beings.

The incarnate spirituality of St. Francis brings to mind another Franciscan and more contemporary saint, Padre Pio. Like Francis, he bore the wounds of Christ. Or Blessed Damien of Molokai, who was willing to touch the skin of lepers. Damien spent 16 years on the Hawaiian Island of Molokai caring for people afflicted with leprosy. He died of the disease in 1849, but, because of his dedication and untiring work, made this dreadful malady better known to the world. As a result, he inspired many improvements in the care and treatment of lepers. This past February, Pope Benedict approved Blessed Damien's cause for canonization, and he will be canonized on October 11 of this year.

Henry David Thoreau, like the Poverello of Assisi, professed a great love for nature and animals. But his affection for God's creation was marred by his animosity toward human beings. "It is pleasant to meet the dry yellow-colored fruit of the poison dogwood," he wrote. "It has so much character relatively to man." St. Francis loved all nature because it reminded him of his fraternity with all creation. Thoreau's love of nature separated him from his fellow creatures.

The story of St. Francis taming the Wolf of Gubbio and his sermon to the birds are charming as well as edifying. Another saint, St. Martin de Porres, also had the gift of being able to converse with animals. He once ordered a whole army of pestiferous rodents out of the monastery and into an unused shed. Like St. Francis, his affection for animals did not in any way compromise his great love for his fellow human beings.

Laughter and Love

St. Teresa of Avila prayed that the good Lord would deliver us "from silly devotions and sour-faced saints." In Saint-Watching, Phyllis McGinley described this great saint as being "irrepressible as a volcano, unsinkable as balsa wood." She, like Francis, and in contrast with the dour personality of Thoreau, was a woman for whom humor was a constant companion. Once a young nun came to her boasting of being a great sinner. St. Teresa advised her, deflatingly: "Now, Sister, remember, none of us are perfect. Just make sure those sins of yours don't turn into bad habits."

In this vein, we are reminded of St. Thomas More, whose humor never left him, even when he was facing death. As he mounted the scaffold, he said to his executioner, "Assist me up, if you please. Coming down I can shift for myself." John of Saxony, a good Dominican, once noticed his novices laughing. "Keep on laughing," he advised them, "it's the way you escape from the devil."

Humor, joy, and an intense love for God and man are qualities that characterize saints. Indeed, saints are not champions of a fashion or an ideology, but whole, integrated human beings. Karl Marx could not have been more wrong when he said, "It is easy to become a saint if one does not want to be a human." The truth is that in order to be a saint, which is not at all easy, one must be fully human. St. Philip Neri played practical jokes. St. Charles Borrormeo enjoyed a good game of chess. St. Ignatius loved billiards. St. John Bosco revelled in picnics, acrobatics, and "the civilizing effects of good music." Saints are not cast in plaster. Concerning St. Francis Borgia, biographer James Brodrick wrote: "Indeed, not only was he human but a humanist, a saint in the line of Assisi's Francis who . . .loved everything beautiful that kept its innocence."

Heroic Virtue

The extraordinary life of the saint should make him appear to a child as anything but remote. The saint is you and I as real, personal, and human as we can possibly be. He speaks to our heart, our hopes, and our humanity from any place in the world and from any point in history.

Heroes are also significant. But the hero is praised for some specific, though extraordinary, achievement. It is Bill Mazeroski hitting a home run against the Yankees in the seventh game of the1960 World Series to give the Pittsburgh Pirates a championship. Or it is Joe Namath leading the underdog New York Jets to a stunning victory in the 1969 Super Bowl. It is Eddie Rickenbacker, America's top flying Ace in World War I, shooting down 26 enemy planes. Or it is Charles Lindbergh in 1927, being the first person to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean. Such heroic accomplishments will not fade, though their heroes may do nothing to add to their heroism and may retire in comfort to rest on their laurels. Heroism is episodic; sanctity is a lifetime occupation.

Sainthood, unlike heroism, is a constant and undiminishing display of love for God and neighbor. It includes overcoming great obstacles and accepting the Cross of Christ. Moreover, no person is declared a saint until he has passed from this earth. Heroes are canonized immediately upon their heroic accomplishments. In fact, it is their accomplishments that are venerated, not the excellence oft heir lives. In this sense, it is within the capacity of each one of us to become a saint, since we already possess the substance of sainthood, which is our humanity.

The saint, because he is real, fully faithful, permanent, and transcultural, is the best role model for children. He is a model who cannot fail them. As Phyllis McGinley tells us, the saint is as "obsessed by goodness and by God as Michelangelo was obsessed by line and form, as Shakespeare was bewitched by language, Beethoven by sound." The extraordinary life of the saint should make him appear to a child as anything but remote. The saint is you and I as real, personal, and human as we can possibly be. He speaks to our heart, our hopes, and our humanity from any place in the world and from any point in history.


ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Donald DeMarco. "Heroes and Saints." Lay Witness (May/Jun 2009).

Reprinted with permission of Lay Witness.

Lay Witness is the flagship publication of Catholics United for the Faith. Featuring articles written by leaders in the Catholic Church, each issue of Lay Witness keeps you informed on current events in the Church, the Holy Father's intentions for the month, and provides formation through biblical and catechetical articles with real-life applications for everyday Catholics.

THE AUTHOR

Donald DeMarco is adjunct professor at Holy Apostles College & Seminary in Cromwell, Connecticut and Professor Emeritus at St. Jerome's University in Waterloo Ontario. He also continues to work as a corresponding member of the Pontifical Acadmy for Life. Donald DeMarco has written hundreds of articles for various scholarly and popular journals, and is the author of twenty books, including The Heart of Virtue, The Many Faces of Virtue, Virtue's Alphabet: From Amiability to Zeal and Architects Of The Culture Of Death. Donald DeMarco is on the Advisory Board of The Catholic Education Resource Center.

Copyright © 2009 LayWitness

Article: Why we're debating euthanasia now

MARGARET SOMERVILLE

Deep changes in society have created a growing demand for the legalization of euthanasia -- but that doesn't make it right.

Why is Canada's Parliament now considering a bill to legalize euthanasia (a term I use here to include assisted suicide), when we have prohibited it for millennia?

Not one of the bottom-line conditions usually linked with calls for legalizing euthanasia -- that a person is terminally ill, wants to die and we can kill them -- is new. These factors have been part of the human condition for as long as humans have existed. And our capacity to relieve pain and suffering has improved remarkably. So, is some other cause the main one?

I suggest it's profound changes in our post-modern, secular, western, democratic societies, and their interactive and cumulative effects. To make wise decisions about whether or not to legalize euthanasia, we need to identify and understand these changes.

Individualism: "Intense individualism" (sometimes called "selfish individualism"), which needs to be distinguished from "healthy individualism," dominates our society. This entails giving pre-eminence to rights of personal autonomy and self-determination, which favour acceptance of euthanasia.

"Intense individualism" also tends to exclude developing any real sense of community, even in connection with death and bereavement, where that sense is an essential need and coping mechanism for most people.

Almost all the justifications for legalizing euthanasia focus primarily on the dying person who wants it. Its harmful impact on society and its values and institutions is ignored.

In our society, death is largely a medical event that takes place in a hospital or other institution and is perceived as occurring in great isolation. It's been institutionalized, depersonalized and dehumanized. Asking for euthanasia can be a response to the "intense pre-mortem loneliness" of the dying person that results.

Mass media: Today we create our collective story -- the store of values, attitudes, beliefs, commitments and myths -- that informs our collective life and through that our individual lives and helps to give them meaning, through mass media and the Internet.

Failure to take into account societal and cultural-level issues related to euthanasia is connected with the "mediatization" of the debate. We consider only the issues presented by the mass media -- and those only as presented by them. It makes dramatic, personally and emotionally gripping television to feature Sue Rodriguez, an articulate, courageous, 42-year-old, divorced woman, dying of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, begging to have euthanasia made available.

The arguments against euthanasia are based on the harm that it would do to society, both present and future, and are very much more difficult to present. They come across as abstractions. Society cannot be interviewed on television and become a familiar, empathy-evoking figure to the viewing public.

Moreover, the vast exposure to death that we are subjected to in both current-affairs and entertainment programs might have overwhelmed our sensitivity to the awesomeness of death and, likewise, of inflicting it.

Denial and control of death, and 'death talk': Ours is a death-denying, death-obsessed society. Those who no longer adhere to the practice of institutionalized religion have lost their main forum for engaging in "death talk" -- whether church, synagogue, mosque or temple. We need to engage in that "talk" if we are to accommodate the inevitable reality of death into the living of our lives. And we must do that if we are to live fully and well.

The arguments against euthanasia are based on the harm that it would do to society, both present and future, and are very much more difficult to present. They come across as abstractions. Society cannot be interviewed on television and become a familiar, empathy-evoking figure to the viewing public.

Our extensive discussion of euthanasia in the mass media may be our contemporary "death talk." So, instead of being confined to an identifiable location and an hour or so a week, "death talk" has spilled out into our lives in general. This makes maintaining the denial of death more difficult, because it makes the fear of death more present and "real." One way to deal with this fear is to believe we have death under control. The availability of euthanasia could support that belief. Euthanasia moves us from chance to choice concerning death. Although we cannot make death optional, we can create an illusion that it is, by making its timing and the conditions and ways in which it occurs a matter of choice.

Legalism: We have, to varying degrees, become a legalistic society. The reasons are complex and include the use of law as a means of ordering and governing a "society of strangers," as compared with one of "intimates."

Matters such as euthanasia, which would once have been the topic of moral or religious discourse, are now explored in courts and legislatures -- especially through concepts of individual human rights, civil rights, and constitutional rights.

Man-made law (legal positivism), as compared with divinely ordained law or natural law, has a very dominant role in establishing the values and symbols of a secular society. In the euthanasia debate, it does so through the judgments and legislation that result from the "death talk" that takes place in "secular cathedrals" -- legislatures and courts.

Materialism and consumerism: Another factor favouring euthanasia is that our society is highly materialistic and consumerist. It has lost any sense of the sacred, even just of the "secular sacred." That favours a pro-euthanasia position, because a loss of the sacred fosters the idea that worn-out people may be equated with worn-out products; both can then be seen primarily as "disposal" problems.

As one Australian politician put it: "When you are past your best-before or use-by date, you should be disposed of as quickly, cheaply and efficiently as possible." Euthanasia implements that approach.

Mystery: We convert mysteries into problems in order to deal with them and reduce our anxiety in doing so. If we convert the mystery of death into the problem of death, euthanasia (or, even more basically, a lethal injection) can be seen as a solution to that problem.

A sense of mystery might be required also to "preserve room for hope." Hopelessness -- nothing to look forward to -- is strongly associated with a desire for euthanasia.

Rejection of any sense of mystery often correlates with a belief that reason is the only valid way of human knowing, and a rejection of other ways, such as intuition, especially moral intuition, examined emotions, experiential knowledge and so on. Such an approach favours euthanasia -- it can make logical sense, even though humans have a deep moral intuition against killing each other and we have thousands of years of history (human memory as a way of knowing) in all kinds of societies that it is wrong to do so, except where it is unavoidable to save human life.

What it means to be human: At the heart of many of the current debates on ethics, including in relation to euthanasia, is the issue of whether humans deserve "special respect" as compared with animals or robots, which links to whether we have absolute obligations to protect and preserve the essence of our humanness.

I believe we deserve special respect simply because we are human. But some people don't agree that there's anything intrinsically special about being human.


For instance, Princeton "animal rights" philosopher Peter Singer would not differentiate animals from humans in the kind of respect they are owed. So, if we see it as acceptable to euthanize our suffering dog or cat, likewise, we should be able to offer euthanasia to humans.

The euthanasia debate is a momentous one. It involves our individual and collective past (the ethical, legal, and cultural norms that have been handed down to us as members of families, groups and societies); the present (whether we will change those norms); and the future (the impact that this would have on those who come after us).

Impact of scientific advances: Among the most important causes of our loss of a sense of the sacred, in general, and regarding human life in particular, is our extraordinary scientific progress and the mistaken view that science and religion are antithetical.

New genetic discoveries and new reproductive technologies have given us a sense that we understand the origin and nature of human life and that, because we can, we may manipulate -- or even "create" -- life. Transferring these sentiments to the other end of life would support the view that euthanasia is acceptable.

Competing worldviews: Though immensely important in itself, the debate over euthanasia might be a surrogate for yet another, even deeper, one. Which of two irreconcilable worldviews will form the basis of our societal and cultural paradigm?

According to one worldview, we are highly complex, biological machines, whose most valuable features are our rational, logical, cognitive functions. This worldview is in itself a mechanistic approach to human life. Its proponents support euthanasia as being, in appropriate circumstances, a logical and rational response to problems at the end of life.

The other worldview (which for some people is expressed through religion, but can be, and possibly is for most people, held independently of religion, at least in a traditional or institutional sense) is that human life consists of more than its biological component, wondrous as that is. It involves a mystery of which we have a sense through intuitions, especially moral ones. It sees death as part of the mystery of life, which means that to respect life, we must respect death. Although we might be under no obligation to prolong the lives of dying people, we do have an obligation not to shorten their lives deliberately.

The euthanasia debate is a momentous one. It involves our individual and collective past (the ethical, legal, and cultural norms that have been handed down to us as members of families, groups and societies); the present (whether we will change those norms); and the future (the impact that this would have on those who come after us).

In debating euthanasia we need to ask many questions, but three of the most important are: Would legalization be most likely to help us or hinder us in our search for meaning in our individual and collective lives? How do we want our grandchildren and great grandchildren to die? And, in relation to human death, what kind of culture do we want to pass on?



ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Margaret Somerville. "Why we're debating euthanasia now." Ottawa Citizen, (Canada) 23 October 2009.

Reprinted with permission of the author, Margaret Somerville.

THE AUTHOR

Margaret Somerville, AM, FRSC is an Australian/Canadian ethicist and academic. She is the Samuel Gale Professor of Law, Professor in the Faculty of Medicine, and the Founding Director of the Faculty of Law's Centre for Medicine, Ethics and Law at McGill University. She is the author of The Ethical Imagination: CBC Massey Lectures, Death Talk: The Case Against Euthanasia and Physician-Assisted Suicide, The Ethical Canary: Science, Society, and the Human Spirit, and Do We Care?.

Copyright © 2009 Margaret Somerville

Article: The Forgiveness of Sins

CATHOLIC ANSWERS

All pardon for sins ultimately comes from Christ’s finished work on Calvary, but how is this pardon received by individuals? Did Christ leave us any means within the Church to take away sin? The Bible says he gave us two means.

Baptism was given to take away the sin inherited from Adam (original sin) and any sins we personally committed before baptism -- sins we personally commit are called actual sins, because they come from our own acts. Thus on the day of Pentecost, Peter told the crowds, "Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins; and you shall receive the gift of the Holy Spirit" (Acts 2:38), and when Paul was baptized he was told, "And now why do you wait? Rise and be baptized, and wash away your sins, calling on his name" (Acts 22:16). And so Peter later wrote, "Baptism . . . now saves you, not as a removal of dirt from the body but as an appeal to God for a clear conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ" (1 Pet. 3:21).

For sins committed after baptism, a different sacrament is needed. It has been called penance, confession, and reconciliation, each word emphasizing one of its.aspects. During his life, Christ forgave sins, as in the case of the woman caught in adultery (John 8:1-11) and the woman who anointed his feet (Luke 7:48). He exercised this power in his human capacity as the Messiah or Son of man, telling us, "the Son of man has authority on earth to forgive sins" (Matt. 9:6), which is why the Gospel writer himself explains that God "had given such authority to men" (Matt. 9:8).

Since he would not always be with the Church visibly, Christ gave this power to other men so the Church, which is the continuation of his presence throughout time (Matt. 28:20), would be able to offer forgiveness to future generations. He gave his power to the apostles, and it was a power that could be passed on to their successors and agents, since the apostles wouldn't always be on earth either, but people would still be sinning.

God had sent Jesus to forgive sins, but after his resurrection Jesus told the apostles, "'As the Father has sent me, even so I send you.' And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and said to them, 'Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained'" (John 20:21-23). (This is one of only two times we are told that God breathed on man, the other being in Genesis 2:7, when he made man a living soul. It emphasizes how important the establishment of the sacrament of penance was.)


The Commission

Christ told the apostles to follow his example: "As the Father has sent me, even so I send you" (John 20:21). Just as the apostles were to carry Christ's message to the whole world, so they were to carry his forgiveness: "Truly, I say to you, whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven" (Matt. 18:18).

This power was understood as coming from God: "All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation" (2 Cor. 5:18). Indeed, confirms Paul, "So we are ambassadors for Christ" (2 Cor. 5:20).

Some say that any power given to the apostles died with them. Not so. Some powers must have, such as the ability to write Scripture. But the powers necessary to maintain the Church as a living, spiritual society had to be passed down from generation to generation. If they ceased, the Church would cease, except as a quaint abstraction. Christ ordered the apostles to, "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations." It would take much time. And he promised them assistance: "Lo, I am with you always, to the close of the age" (Matt. 28:19-20).

If the disciples believed that Christ instituted the power to sacramentally forgive sins in his stead, we would expect the apostles' successors -- the bishops -- and Christians of later years to act as though such power was legitimately and habitually exercised. If, on the other hand, the sacramental forgiveness of sins was what Fundamentalists term it, an "invention," and if it was something foisted upon the young Church by ecclesiastical or political leaders, we'd expect to find records of protest. In fact, in early Christian writings we find no sign of protests concerning sacramental forgiveness of sins. Quite the contrary. We find confessing to a priest was accepted as part of the original deposit of faith handed down from the apostles.


Lots of Gumption

The earliest Christian writings, such as the first-century Didache, are indefinite on the procedure for confession to be used in the forgiveness of sins, but a verbal confession is listed as part of the Church's requirement by the time of Irenaeus (A.D. 180).

Loraine Boettner, in his book Roman Catholicism, claims "auricular confession to a priest instead of to God" was instituted in 1215 at the Fourth Lateran Council. This is an extreme example, even for a committed anti-Catholic. Few people have the gumption to place the "invention" of confession so late, since there is so much early Christian writing -- a good portion of it one thousand or more years before that council -- that refers to the practice of confession as something already long-established.

Actually, the Fourth Lateran Council did discuss confession. To combat the lax morals of the time, the council regulated the already-existing duty to confess one's sins by saying that Catholics should confess any mortal sins at least once a year. To issue an official decree about how frequently a sacrament must be celebrated is hardly the same as "inventing" that sacrament.

The earliest Christian writings, such as the first-century Didache, are indefinite on the procedure for confession to be used in the forgiveness of sins, but a verbal confession is listed as part of the Church's requirement by the time of Irenaeus (A.D. 180). He wrote that the disciples of the Gnostic heretic Marcus "have deluded many women. . . . Their consciences have been branded as with a hot iron. Some of these women make a public confession, but others are ashamed to do this, and in silence, as if withdrawing themselves from the hope of the life of God, they either apostatize entirely or hesitate between the two courses" (Against Heresies 1:22).

The sacrament of penance is clearly in use, for Irenaeus speaks of making an outward confession (versus remaining silent) upon which the hope of eternal life hangs, but it is not yet clear from Irenaeus just how, or to whom, confession is to be made. Is it privately, to the priest, or before the whole congregation, with the priest presiding? The one thing we can say for sure is that the sacrament is understood by Irenaeus as having originated in the infant Church.

Later writers, such as Origen (241), Cyprian (251), and Aphraates (337), are clear in saying confession is to be made to a priest. (In their writings the whole process of penance is termed exomologesis, which means confession -- the confession was seen as the main part of the sacrament.) Cyprian writes that the forgiveness of sins can take place only "through the priests." Ambrose says "this right is given to priests only." Pope Leo I says absolution can be obtained only through the prayers of the priests. These utterances are not taken as novel, but as reminders of accepted belief. We have no record of anyone objecting, of anyone claiming these men were pushing an "invention." (See the Catholic Answers tract Confession for full quotes from the early Church Fathers on the sacrament of penance.)


Confession Implied

Note that the power Christ gave the apostles was twofold: to forgive sins or to hold them bound, which means to retain them unforgiven. Several things follow from this. First, the apostles could not know what sins to forgive and what not to forgive unless they were first told the sins by the sinner. This implies confession. Second, their authority was not merely to proclaim that God had already forgiven sins or that he would forgive sins if there were proper repentance.

Such interpretations don't account for the distinction between forgiving and retaining -- nor do they account for the importance given to the utterance in John 20:21-23. If God has already forgiven all of a man's sins, or will forgive them all (past and future) upon a single act of repentance, then it makes little sense to tell the apostles they have been given the power to "retain" sins, since forgiveness would be all-or-nothing and nothing could be "retained."

Furthermore, if at conversion we were forgiven all sins, past, present, and future, it would make no sense for Christ to require us to pray, "And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors," which he explained is required because "if you forgive men their trespasses, your heavenly Father also will forgive you; but if you do not forgive men their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses" (Matt. 6:12-15).

If forgiveness really can be partial -- not a once-for-all thing -- how is one to tell which sins have been forgiven, which not, in the absence of a priestly decision? You can't very well rely on your own gut feelings. No, the biblical passages make sense only if the apostles and their successors were given a real authority.

Still, some people are not convinced. One is Paul Juris, a former priest, now a Fundamentalist, who has written a pamphlet on this subject. The pamphlet is widely distributed by organizations opposed to Catholicism. The cover describes the work as "a study of John 20:23, a much misunderstood and misused portion of Scripture pertaining to the forgiveness of sins." Juris mentions "two main schools of thought," the Catholic and the Fundamentalist positions.

He correctly notes that "among Christians, it is generally agreed that regular confession of one's sins is obviously necessary to remain in good relationship with God. So the issue is not whether we should or should not confess our sins. Rather, the real issue is, How does God say that our sins are forgiven or retained?"


Verse Slinging

This sounds fine, on the surface, but this apparently reasonable approach masks what really happens next. Juris engages in verse slinging, listing as many verses as he can find that refer to God forgiving sins, in hopes that the sheer mass of verses will settle the question. But none of the verses he lists specifically interprets John 20:23, and none contradicts the Catholic interpretation.

For instance, he cites verses like these: "Let it be known to you therefore, brethren, that through this man forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to you, and by him every one that believes is freed from everything from which you could not be freed by the law of Moses" (Acts 13:38-39); "And he said to them, 'Go into all the world and preach the gospel to the whole creation. He who believes and is baptized will be saved; but he who does not believe will be condemned'" (Mark 16:15-16).

During his lifetime Christ sent out his followers to do his work. Just before he left this world, he gave the apostles special authority, commissioning them to make God’s forgiveness present to all people, and the whole Christian world accepted this, until just a few centuries ago. If there is an "invention" here, it is not the sacrament of penance, but the notion that the sacramental forgiveness of sins is not to be found in the Bible or in early Christian history.

Juris says that verses like these demonstrate that "all that was left for the disciples to do was to 'go' and 'proclaim' this wonderful good news (the gospel) to all men. As they proclaimed this good news of the gospel, those who believed the gospel, their sins would be forgiven. Those who rejected (did not believe) the gospel, their sins would be retained." Juris does nothing more than show that the Bible says God will forgive sins and that it is through Jesus that our sins are forgiven -- things no one doubts. He does not remotely prove that John 20:23 is equivalent to a command to "go" and to "preach," merely that going and preaching are part of God's plan for saving people. He also sidesteps the evident problems in the Fundamentalist interpretation.

The passage says nothing about preaching the good news. Instead, Jesus is telling the apostles that they have been empowered to do something. He does not say, "When God forgives men's sins, they are forgiven." He uses the second person plural: "you." And he talks about the apostles forgiving, not preaching. When he refers to retaining sins, he uses the same form: "When you hold them bound, they are held bound."

The best Juris can do is assert that John 20:23 means the apostles were given authority only to proclaim the forgiveness of sins -- but asserting this is not proving it.

His is a technique that often works because many readers believe that the Fundamentalist interpretation has been proven true. After all, if you propose to interpret one verse and accomplish that by listing irrelevant verses that refer to something other than the specific point in controversy, lazy readers will conclude that you have marshalled an impressive array of evidence. All they have to do is count the citations. Here's one for the Catholics, they say, looking at John 20:21-23, but ten or twenty for the Fundamentalists. The Fundamentalists must be right!


The Advantages

Is the Catholic who confesses his sins to a priest any better off than the non-Catholic who confesses directly to God? Yes. First, he seeks forgiveness the way Christ intended. Second, by confessing to a priest, the Catholic learns a lesson in humility, which is avoided when one confesses only through private prayer. Third, the Catholic receives sacramental graces the non-Catholic doesn't get; through the sacrament of penance sins are forgiven and graces are obtained. Fourth, the Catholic is assured that his sins are forgiven; he does not have to rely on a subjective "feeling." Lastly, the Catholic can also obtain sound advice on avoiding sin in the future.

During his lifetime Christ sent out his followers to do his work. Just before he left this world, he gave the apostles special authority, commissioning them to make God's forgiveness present to all people, and the whole Christian world accepted this, until just a few centuries ago. If there is an "invention" here, it is not the sacrament of penance, but the notion that the sacramental forgiveness of sins is not to be found in the Bible or in early Christian history.

NIHIL OBSTAT: I have concluded that the materials
presented in this work are free of doctrinal or moral errors.
Bernadeane Carr, STL, Censor Librorum, August 10, 2004

IMPRIMATUR: In accord with 1983 CIC 827
permission to publish this work is hereby granted.
+Robert H. Brom, Bishop of San Diego, August 10, 2004



ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Catholic Answers. "The Forgiveness of Sins." chap. 25 in The Essential Catholic Survival Guide: Answers to Tough Questions About the Faith, (San Diego: Catholic Answers Inc., 2005): 199-205.

Reprinted by permission of Catholic Answers. Order The Essential Catholic Survival Guide here.

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Article: The kind of people we're becoming, and what we can do about it

ARCHBISHOP CHARLES J. CHAPUT, O.F.M. CAP.

The real choice in accepting or rejecting a child with special needs is between love and unlove; between courage and cowardice; between trust and fear. That's the choice we face when it happens in our personal experience. And that's the choice we face as a society in deciding which human lives we will treat as valuable, and which we will not.

I want to talk tonight about the kind of people we're becoming, and what we can do about it. Especially what you can do about it. But it's always good to start with a few facts before offering an opinion. So that's what I'll do.

A number of my friends have children with disabilities. Their problems range from cerebral palsy to Turner's syndrome to Trisomy 18, which is extremely serious. But I want to focus on one fairly common genetic disability to make my point. I'm referring to Trisomy 21, or Down syndrome.

Those of us here tonight will already know that Down syndrome is not a disease. It's a genetic disorder with a variety of symptoms. Therapy can ease the burden of those symptoms, but Down syndrome is permanent. There's no cure. People with Down syndrome have mild to moderate developmental delays. They have low to middling cognitive function. They also tend to have a uniquely Down syndrome "look" -- a flat facial profile, almond-shaped eyes, a small nose, short neck, thick stature and a small mouth which often causes the tongue to protrude and interferes with clear speech. People with Down syndrome also tend to have low muscle tone. This can affect their posture, breathing and speech.

Currently about 5,000 children with Down syndrome are born in the United States each year. They join a national Down syndrome population of roughly 400,000 persons. But that population may soon dwindle. And the reason why it may decline illustrates, in a vivid way, a struggle within the American soul. That struggle will shape the character of our society in the decades to come.

Prenatal testing can now detect up to 95 percent of pregnancies with a strong risk of Down syndrome. The tests aren't conclusive. They can't give a firm yes or no. But they're pretty good. And the results of those tests are brutally practical. Studies show that more than 80 percent of unborn babies diagnosed with Down syndrome now get terminated in the womb. They're killed because of a flaw in one of their chromosomes -- a flaw that's neither fatal nor contagious, but merely undesirable.

The older a woman gets, the higher her risk of bearing a child with Down syndrome. And so, in medical offices around the country, pregnant women now hear from doctors or genetic counselors that their baby has "an increased likelihood" of Down syndrome based on one or more prenatal tests. Some doctors deliver this information with sensitivity and great support for the woman. But, as my friends know from experience, too many others seem more concerned about avoiding lawsuits, or managing costs, or even, in a few ugly cases, cleaning up the gene pool.

We're witnessing a kind of schizophrenia in our culture's conscience. In Britain, the Guardian newspaper recently ran an article lamenting the faultiness of some of the prenatal tests that screen for Down syndrome. Women who receive positive results, the article noted, often demand an additional test, amniocentesis, which has a greater risk of miscarriage. Doctors in the story complained about the high number of false positives for Down syndrome. "The result of [these false positives] is that babies are dying completely unnecessarily," one med school professor said. "It's scandalous and disgraceful … and causing the death of normal babies." Those words sound almost humane -- until we realize that, at least for the med school professor, killing "abnormal" babies like those with Down syndrome is perfectly acceptable.

In practice, medical professionals can now steer an expectant mother toward abortion simply by hinting at a list of the child's possible defects. And the most debased thing about that kind of pressure is that doctors know better than anyone else how vulnerable a woman can be in hearing potentially tragic news about her unborn baby.

I'm not suggesting that doctors should hold back vital knowledge from parents. Nor should they paint an implausibly upbeat picture of life with a child who has a disability. Facts and resources are crucial in helping adult persons prepare themselves for difficult challenges. But doctors, genetic counselors, and med school professors should have on staff -- or at least on speed dial -- experts of a different sort.

Parents of children with special needs, special education teachers and therapists, and pediatricians who have treated children with disabilities often have a hugely life-affirming perspective. Unlike prenatal caregivers, these professionals have direct knowledge of persons with special needs. They know their potential. They've seen their accomplishments. They can testify to the benefits -- often miraculous -- of parental love and faith. Expectant parents deserve to know that a child with Down syndrome can love, laugh, learn, work, feel hope and excitement, make friends, and create joy for others. These things are beautiful precisely because they transcend what we expect. They witness to the truth that every child with special needs has a value that matters eternally.

And, just as some people resent the imperfection, the inconvenience and the expense of persons with disabilities, others see in them an invitation to be healed of their own sins and failures by learning how to love.

Raising a child with Down syndrome can be hard. Parents grow up very fast. None of my friends who has a daughter or son with a serious disability is melodramatic, or self-conscious, or even especially pious about it. They speak about their special child with an unsentimental realism. It's a realism flowing out of love -- real love, the kind that courses its way through fear and suffering to a decision, finally, to surround the child with their heart and trust in the goodness of God. And that decision to trust, of course, demands not just real love, but also real courage.

The real choice in accepting or rejecting a child with special needs is never between some imaginary perfection or imperfection. None of us is perfect. No child is perfect. The real choice in accepting or rejecting a child with special needs is between love and unlove; between courage and cowardice; between trust and fear. That's the choice we face when it happens in our personal experience. And that's the choice we face as a society in deciding which human lives we will treat as valuable, and which we will not.

Nearly 50 percent of babies with Down syndrome are born with some sort of heart defect. Most have a lifelong set of health challenges. Some of them are serious. Government help is a mixed bag. Public policy is uneven. Some cities and states, like New York, provide generous aid to the disabled and their families. In many other jurisdictions, though, a bad economy has forced budget cuts. Services for the disabled -- who often lack the resources, voting power and lobbyists to defend their interests -- have shrunk. In still other places, the law mandates good support and care, but lawmakers neglect their funding obligations, and no one holds them accountable. The vulgar economic fact about the disabled is that, in purely utilitarian terms, they rarely seem worth the investment.

That's the bad news. But there's also good news. Ironically, for those persons with Down syndrome who do make it out of the womb, life is better than at any time in our nation's history. A baby with Down syndrome born in 1944, the year of my own birth, could expect to live about 25 years. Many spent their entire lives mothballed in public institutions. Today, people with Down syndrome routinely survive into their 50s and 60s. Most can enjoy happy, productive lives. Most live with their families or share group homes with modified supervision and some measure of personal autonomy. Many hold steady jobs in the workplace. Some marry. A few have even attended college. Federal law mandates a free and appropriate education for children with special needs through the age of 21. Social Security provides modest monthly support for persons with Down syndrome and other severe disabilities from age 18 throughout their lives. These are huge blessings.

And, just as some people resent the imperfection, the inconvenience and the expense of persons with disabilities, others see in them an invitation to be healed of their own sins and failures by learning how to love.

Every child with Down syndrome, every adult with special needs; in fact, every unwanted unborn child, every person who is poor, weak, abandoned or homeless -- each one of these persons is an icon of God's face and a vessel of his love. How we treat these persons -- whether we revere them and welcome them, or throw them away in distaste -- shows what we really believe about human dignity, both as individuals and as a nation.

About 200 families in this country are now waiting to adopt children with Down syndrome. Many of these families already have, or know, a child with special needs. They believe in the spirit of these beautiful children, because they've seen it firsthand. A Maryland-based organization, Reece's Rainbow, helps arrange international adoptions of children with Down syndrome. The late Eunice Shriver spent much of her life working to advance the dignity of children with Down syndrome and other disabilities. Last September, the Anna and John J. Sie Foundation committed $34 million to the University of Colorado to focus on improving the medical conditions faced by those with Down syndrome. And many businesses, all over the country, now welcome workers with Down syndrome. Parents of these special employees say that having a job, however tedious, and earning a pay check, however small, gives their children pride and purpose. These things are more precious than gold.

I said at the start of my remarks tonight that I wanted to talk about the kind of people we're becoming, and what we can do about it. And especially what you can do about it, both as medical professionals and as Catholics who take their faith seriously.

The Nobel Peace Prize winner Albert Schweitzer once wrote that, "A man is truly ethical only when he obeys the compulsion to help all life which he is able to assist, and shrinks from injuring anything that lives." Every child with Down syndrome, every adult with special needs; in fact, every unwanted unborn child, every person who is poor, weak, abandoned or homeless -- each one of these persons is an icon of God's face and a vessel of his love. How we treat these persons -- whether we revere them and welcome them, or throw them away in distaste -- shows what we really believe about human dignity, both as individuals and as a nation.

The American Jesuit scholar Father John Courtney Murray once said that "Anyone who really believes in God must set God, and the truth of God, above all other considerations."

Here's what that means. Catholic public officials who take God seriously cannot support laws that attack human dignity without lying to themselves, misleading others and abusing the faith of their fellow Catholics. God will demand an accounting. Catholic doctors who take God seriously cannot do procedures, prescribe drugs or support health policies that attack the sanctity of unborn children or the elderly; or that undermine the dignity of human sexuality and the family. God will demand an accounting. And Catholic citizens who take God seriously cannot claim to love their Church, and then ignore her counsel on vital public issues that shape our nation's life. God will demand an accounting. As individuals, we can claim to be or believe whatever we want. We can posture, and rationalize our choices, and make alibis with each other all day long -- but no excuse for our lack of honesty and zeal will work with the God who made us. God knows our hearts better than we do. If we don't conform our hearts and actions to the faith we claim to believe, we're only fooling ourselves.

They speak about their special child with an unsentimental realism. It's a realism flowing out of love -- real love, the kind that courses its way through fear and suffering to a decision, finally, to surround the child with their heart and trust in the goodness of God. And that decision to trust, of course, demands not just real love, but also real courage.

We live in a culture where our marketers and entertainment media compulsively mislead us about the sustainability of youth; the indignity of old age; the avoidance of suffering; the denial of death; the meaning of real beauty; the impermanence of every human love; the dysfunctions of children and family; the silliness of virtue; and the cynicism of religious faith. It's a culture of fantasy, selfishness and illness that we've brought upon ourselves. And we've done it by misusing the freedom that other -- and greater -- generations than our own worked for, bled for and bequeathed to our safe-keeping.

What have we done with that freedom? In whose service do we use it now?

John Courtney Murray is most often remembered for his work at Vatican II on the issue of religious liberty, and for his great defense of American democracy in his book, We Hold These Truths. Murray believed deeply in the ideas and moral principles of the American experiment. He saw in the roots of the American Revolution the unique conditions for a mature people to exercise their freedom through intelligent public discourse, mutual cooperation and laws inspired by right moral character. He argued that -- at its best -- American democracy is not only compatible with the Catholic faith, but congenial to it.

But he had a caveat. It's the caveat George Washington implied in his Farewell Address, and Charles Carroll -- the only Catholic signer of the Declaration of Independence -- mentions in his own writings. In order to work, America depends as a nation on a moral people shaped by their religious faith, and in a particular way, by the Christian faith. Without that living faith, animating its people and informing its public life, America becomes something alien and hostile to the very ideals it was founded on.

This is why the same Father Murray who revered the best ideals of the American experiment could also write that "Our American culture, as it exists, is actually the quintessence of all that is decadent in the culture of the Western Christian world. It would seem to be erected on the triple denial that has corrupted Western culture at its roots: the denial of metaphysical reality, of the primacy of the spiritual over the material, [and] of the social over the individual . . . Its most striking characteristic is its profound materialism . . . It has given citizens everything to live for and nothing to die for. And its achievement may be summed up thus: It has gained a continent and lost its own soul."

Each of you here tonight who serves in the medical profession has a sacred vocation. That vocation of healing comes from Jesus Christ himself. I don't mean just curing people's aches and pains, although physical healing is so very important. I mean the kind of healing that comes when a suffering person is understood and loved, and knows that she's understood and loved. That requires a different kind of medicine. The medicine of patience. The medicine of listening. The medicine of respect.

Over the years, I've learned that when God takes something away from a person, he gives back some other gift that's equally precious. Rick Santorum, the former senator from Pennsylvania, is a friend of mine. Rick has always been Catholic, and always prolife. But it's one thing to argue in Congress for the sanctity of life. It's another to prove it by your actions under pressure. Last year Rick's wife gave birth to a beautiful daughter named Bella. Bella has Trisomy 18. Against the odds, that little girl is still alive and still growing. And she's surrounded by a family devoted to loving her, 24 hours a day.

Rick and his wife have no illusions about the prospects for their daughter. No one "recovers" from Trisomy 18. But he said to me once that each day he has with Bella makes him a little bit more of a "whole person." It's one of God's ironies that the suffering imperfection brings, can perfect us in the vocation of love. Rick's daughter is an education in the dignity of every human life; a tutor in the meaning of love -- and not just for themselves, but for me as their friend, and for dozens of other people who encounter the Santorum family every week. Another friend of mine has a son with Down syndrome, and she calls him a "sniffer of souls." He may have an IQ of 47, and he'll never read The Brothers Karamazov, but he has a piercingly quick sense of the heart of the people he meets. He knows when he's loved -- and he knows when he's not. Ultimately, we're all like her son. We hunger for people to confirm that we have meaning by showing us love. We need that love. And we suffer when that love is withheld.

The task you need to take home with you tonight is this. Be the best doctors, nurses and medical professionals you can be. Your skill gives glory to God. But be the best Catholics you can be first. Pour your love for Jesus Christ into the healing you do for every person you serve. By your words and by your actions, be a witness to your colleagues. Speak up for what you believe. Love the Church. Defend her teaching. Trust in God. Believe in the Gospel. And don't be afraid. Fear is beneath your dignity as sons and daughters of the God of life.

Changing the course of American culture seems like such a huge task; so far beyond the reach of this little gathering tonight. But St. Paul felt exactly the same way. Redeeming and converting a civilization has already been done once. It can be done again. But we need to understand that God is calling you and me to do it. He chose us. He calls us. He's waiting, and now we need to answer him. Thanks, and God bless you.



ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Charles J. Chaput, O.F.M. Cap. "The kind of people we're becoming, and what we can do about it." Address to Phoenix Catholic Physician's Guild (October 16, 2009).

Reprinted with permission of The Most Reverend Charles J. Chaput, O.F.M. Cap.

THE AUTHOR

The Most Reverend Charles J. Chaput, O.F.M. Cap., has been the archbishop of Denver, Colorado since February 18, 1997. As member of the Prairie Band Potawatomi Tribe, Archbishop Chaput is the second Native American to be ordained bishop in the United States, and the first Native American archbishop. He is the author most recently of Render Unto Caesar: Serving the Nation by Living our Catholic Beliefs in Political Life, and Living the Catholic Faith: Rediscovering the Basics.

Copyright © 2009 Charles J. Chaput, O.F.M. Cap.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Wednesday Liturgy: Guarding Against Swine Flu

ROME, OCT. 27, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Answered by Legionary of Christ Father Edward McNamara, professor of liturgy at the Regina Apostolorum university.


Q: What is the bishop's authority when it comes to a pandemic such as the H1N1 virus? Our local bishop has not only removed the sign of peace at Mass in order to avoid handshakes, forbade the reception of the Eucharist on the tongue, removed the possibility for the faithful to receive the blood of Christ, and emptied the blessed water in all the churches of our diocese, but he has officially asked all parishioners to not attend Mass on Sunday if they have a cough. I find this measure a little extreme when our town has not yet had any real case of this virus and our province has had very few cases as a total. Is a cough really an excuse to not attend Sunday Mass? -- M.J., Province of Alberta

A: There are really two questions involved. One regards the extent of the bishop's authority when it comes to responding to a pandemic, the other regarding a particular prudential judgment by a bishop.

With respect to the first question, all of the measures mentioned by our correspondent would fall under the bishop's general overall authority to regulate the liturgy and to dispense from disciplinary laws in particular cases. It is understood that most of these are temporary measures. The bishop would have the authority to permanently regulate some of these elements such as the gesture for the sign of peace and the availability of Communion under both species as the law already places the regulation of these elements under his authority.

Others, such as the prohibition against receiving Communion on the tongue, can be enacted as an emergency measure by the bishop but could not be made permanent or general without an indult from the Holy See.

The practices outlined by the bishop in this case are basically preventive measures that seek to avoid the spread of a possible pandemic and reduce the risk of infection.

In more serious cases, such as being in the midst of an actual pandemic, the bishop could even take more drastic action. Thus during the initial outbreak of this flu, when the malady was still poorly understood, the cardinal archbishop of Mexico City even went so far as to cancel all public Masses for a couple of weeks until the danger subsided.

With respect to the second question, I believe it is necessary to defer to the bishop's prudential judgment in reaching a decision. Since most bishops are not doctors of medicine they would usually consult with experts and with public health authorities regarding appropriate actions to take in the face on an objective risk. We have to suppose that your bishop took these steps and made his decision in the light of informed advice.

For example, in normal circumstances a mild cough would not necessarily excuse an otherwise healthy person from attending Sunday Mass. If, however, the person was as yet unaware as to the cause of the symptom (be it the common cold, regular seasonal flu or this new strain), he should prudently not expose himself and others to risk until the issue has been duly clarified.

Wednesday Liturgy: Follow-up: Venerating Relics at Mass

ROME, OCT. 27, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Answered by Legionary of Christ Father Edward McNamara, professor of liturgy at the Regina Apostolorum university.


After our comments on the veneration of relics (Oct. 13), a reader inquired: "I have a relic of a blessed placed in a new marble altar which was consecrated on the day that the new church was consecrated and blessed. Would it be correct to include her [the blessed's] name in the Canon of the Mass, just after the apostles?"

If, as appears to be the case, the church is dedicated to this blessed, then her name may be mentioned in those Eucharistic Prayers, such as the Third, and the Prayer for Various Needs, which allow for the addition of the patron's name. The name may not be added to Eucharistic Prayers which do not have this option.

Even if the church is dedicated to another title, the presence of significant relics in the altar would probably justify allowing this special mention of the blessed. The relevant rubric says that the mention is of the saint of the day or the patron without going into much detail. For example, "saint of the day" could be the saint celebrated in the universal calendar or any saint inscribed in the Roman Martyrology on that day, especially if he or she is remembered in some special way. The patron could also include secondary patrons or saints whose relics are found in the church.

Another reader commented: "I recall going to the Vatican basilica on All Saints' Day in the 1990s and witnessing the dozens of reliquaries on the main altar. I don't know if that is still being done, but I thought it should be noted."

This custom of displaying all of the Vatican basilica's movable relics upon the papal altar is still practiced about two or three times a year. This basilica has many long-standing customs which are legitimately preserved in virtue of its unique history and status.

The same reader added a note regarding the follow-up on the translation of the Nicene Creed: "It should be remembered that the English translation of the 1970 Missal translated the Credo directly from the original Greek under the translation principles then in effect -- treating the Greek conciliar text as the ultimate source. The council fathers wrote the original Greek symbolum in the first person plural (at least in the redactions I've read). Hence, 'We believe' for the 1970 Missal in English. The first person singular is a feature of the Apostles' Creed because it is, for Latin Christians at least, a staple of the baptismal ritual. The Latin of the Roman Missal thus might be said to have adapted the Greek symbolum to the style of the most Latin of creeds, the Apostles' Creed. But both the first person singular and first person plural have ancient and venerable roots. It's high time we stop making a shibboleth of the issue."

Our reader is correct. I erred in affirming that the original Greek version was in the singular. It is, in fact, in the first person plural. Likewise most, but not all, Eastern Churches use the "We believe" form of the Creed.

I am not sure that the 1970s translators used the original Greek or were simply inspired by its use, because they obviously include the translation of the expression that the Holy Spirit proceeds from the Father and the Son (Filioque), the latter incision being a later and exclusively Latin addition.

We must also remember that the incorporation of the Creed to the Mass of the Roman rite occurred several centuries after its introduction into the Greek Divine Liturgy.

Finally, I fully agree with our reader that too much has been made of this issue and it should be no cause of division. Neither is more correct nor orthodox than the other, and both usages have full claim to citizenship in the Church.

Monday, October 26, 2009

Article: Can God Be Trusted?

FATHER THOMAS D. WILLIAMS, LC

Maybe, just maybe, our current crisis of trust is actually a singular opportunity to rethink our priorities and redirect our confidence.

The recent economic crisis has been above all a crisis of trust. Financial institutions have bent over backwards to convince us that they are trustworthy, since their entire enterprise depends on consumer confidence. Names like "First Fidelity" and "Bankers Trust" aim to evoke this confidence, as does talk of a "fiduciary" relationship between banks and clients.

Why all this effort to gain our trust? Because banks are trying to get us to entrust something very precious to them: our hard-earned money. The only way we will assume the risk of parting company with our treasures is if we trust the one with whom we leave them. So stories like the crash of Lehman Brothers, or the Ponzi scheme of Bernie Madoff, who "made off" with some $50 billion of investors' money still send shivers down our collective spine.

The recent breakdown of trust in financial institutions is just the tip of the iceberg, however. It follows hard on the heels of many other betrayals. Perhaps never before in history has the experience of betrayal personally affected so many people. To take one obvious example, a 50 percent divorce rate means that half the people who have dared to give their lives to someone (not to mention the millions of children affected) have experienced the brutal effects of misplaced trust. It is hard to find a person who has not been let down by parents, a spouse, siblings, friends, spiritual leaders, politicians, or sundry institutions. The result of all this betrayal has been a general meltdown of trust.

As a society we have reacted to all this betrayal by making distrust a virtue. We scoff at the gullible folks who get taken in by others, and resolve never to allow that to happen to us. We seek to minimize risk while maximizing returns. We recommend pre-nuptial agreements to young couples in love, and insist on carefully crafted contracts to protect our interests. We think we are smarter because we trust less.

Unfortunately none of this works in the spiritual life. The deeper fallout from this crisis of trust has been a growing inability to trust in the one person who is absolutely worthy of it: God. The entire Christian life is predicated on trust in a God who is faithful love, and who directs all things to good for those who love him. Where there is no trust, there can be no Christianity. So while a vast majority of people profess belief in God's existence, these same people find it incredibly difficult to actually trust him.

And here it's important to remember the difference between trust and mere belief. Two people can look at the same frozen pond and agree that it would probably hold their weight, but only the one who trusts dares to walk across it. Trust always involves personal risk and vulnerability. It means leaving the spectator booth and getting down on the field.

The result is that most Christians risk very little in following Jesus. They keep the religion card as a minimal part of a broader portfolio, placing God alongside personal know-how, networks of contacts, property holdings, social programs, and many other sources of personal security. Limited trust in God means limited risk.

The deeper fallout from this crisis of trust has been a growing inability to trust in the one person who is absolutely worthy of it: God.

On the other hand, our society-wide crisis of trust may just have a silver lining. When we realize that banks won't save us, and politics won't save us, and that many times not even family or friends will save us, we are obliged to look elsewhere. The evident frailty of countless earthly realities may invite us to look upward and to seek firmer grounding for our lives.

The Bible takes great pains to show that God offers what no one else can. True, he doesn't offer a problem-free existence, or financial success, or perfect justice in this world. But he offers bigger things, not smaller. He promises the truth. He promises unconditional, faithful friendship. He promises his companionship in good times and bad. He promises meaning and value for our work and sacrifices. And most importantly, he promises eternal life. All other treasures and sources of security inevitably end at the grave. Only God's promises are eternal.

Maybe, just maybe, our current crisis of trust is actually a singular opportunity to rethink our priorities and redirect our confidence. Maybe it's the moment we needed to reevaluate the Christian proposal and rediscover the value of authentic trust in God as the solid foundation stone of our lives. Maybe it's true that for those who love God all things really do work for good.




ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Father Thomas D. Williams, LC. "Can God Be Trusted?" The Catholic Thing (October 21, 2009).

Reprinted with permission from The Catholic Thing. All rights reserved. For reprint rights, write to: info@thecatholicthing.org.

The Catholic thing -- the concrete historical reality of Catholicism -- is the richest cultural tradition in the world. That is the deep background to The Catholic Thing which bring you an original column every day that provides fresh and penetrating insight into the current situation along with other commentary, news, analysis, and -- yes -- even humor. Our writers include some of the most seasoned and insightful Catholic minds in America: Michael Novak, Ralph McInerny, Hadley Arkes, Michael Uhlmann, Mary Eberstadt, Austin Ruse, George Marlin, William Saunders, and many others.

THE AUTHOR

Father Thomas D. Williams, LC, is dean of the theology school at the Regina Apostolorum Pontifical University in Rome. He has also worked extensively for Sky News in Britain covering church and ethical issues. For both NBC and Sky News, Father Williams has appeared as analyst on church affairs for CNN, CBS, ABC, and Fox News and now serves as consultant on Vatican affairs for NBC News and MSNBC. He is the author of Can God Be Trusted?: Finding Faith in Troubled Times, Knowing Right From Wrong: A Christian Guide to Conscience, Greater Than You Think: A Theologian Answers the Atheists About God as well as Spiritual Progress: Becoming the Christian You Want to Be and Who Is My Neighbor? Personalism and the Foundations of Human Rights. Father Williams is on the advisory board of the Catholic Education Resource Centre.

Copyright © 2009 The Catholic Thing