One of the comments we make from time to time here is the absence of sermons on sin. I cannot recall hearing one. Yet, as we look at the world, we can see that if there was a questionnaire, the most common hobby of most people would be ‘sin’. Yet, with sin all around us, flaunting itself, we find an absence of comment on it from our priests. It is refreshing to find Pope Francis frequently mentions the Devil, and indicative of the preoccupations of the media which covers his every word that it never picks up this point, or, indeed, his outright and strongly worded condemnation of abortion. But I still have to hear a parish priest preach on the subject of sin.
I am told that in what my gran called ‘the olden days’ it was quite otherwise; I envision every pulpit breathing hell-fire sermons. There was certainly, if report is to be believed, more emphasis on the subject in the past. But to contemporary ears the topic is outmoded. It smacks of judging others, and the whiff of hell-fire invites a counter-charge of bigotry; there is something profoundly distasteful about the notion that unless I love God, He will consign me to Hell. Yet, as my dear friend Servus Fidelis reminded me yesterday, in my comments on God being love, I came close to the sin of presumption. He usefully reminded us all that: ‘Loving God is not as easy as it first appears and is a long walk to transform ourselves in ways that do not come so easy to most humans.’ This is a useful reminder of an important Gospel truth.
However much we might dislike it, Christ talks frequently about judgement and Hell; His whole message is the urgent one of repent and be saved. That is an invitation to abandon our sinful ways and to follow Him. No one ever liked being called a sinner, and in the modern West we simply have life-style choices, some of which are firmly classed as sinful by the Church. This presents Christians with a dilemma: do they simply pass by on the other side and say nothing when they know that, according to the teaching of the Church, their friends are in mortal peril?
Perhaps one way to approach this is from the point of view expressed by St. Isaac of Syria. He comes pretty close to believing that Hell ought to be empty, but turns away from universalism by acknowledging that individuals endowed with free-will can make the choice to reject God’s love. His emphasis is on God’s love, and it is the individual who, by rejecting it, consigns herself to Hell.
That would certainly explain the urgency of Our Lord’s summons. The choice belongs to us. We judge ourselves. Christ taught us to call God ‘Abba’, which is not just ‘Father’ but closer to the childish ‘daddy’ or ‘papa’. This is because we are His children. But like all children, we grow up, and we can reject our parents. That does not (usually) stop them loving us – but if we go astray, they cannot stop us.
That is why the parable of the Prodigal is so important. There Christ tells us that God’s love remains constant. He is always there, wherever we are. If we will but repent and turn to Him, He is there, waiting, and comes out to meet us. How far is that from the image, preferred by some, of the stern Judge. He is the only Just Judge, and He judges us with love and mercy. He does not condemn us to Hell and separation from Him – we do that to ourselves. It is our prideful refusal to repent and to take the hard road of repentance which separates us from Him.
Servus Fidelis said:
Yes, indeed. It seems that love demands a response. It is not passive but truly active and should elicit a fervent reply. Even human love expects a consummation of sorts to the utterance of the words, “I love you.” But more than the words of response one is expected, by the action of love itself to comport oneself to a new reality. You change your primary concerns in life and live for the object of your love and desire nothing other than to be with the delight of one’s heart. Now this is harder for humans in the spiritual realm as we are dealing with Him Whom we cannot see and our experiences of Him are sometimes fleeting at best. But we must press on and almost court the Beloved though it is truly He who courts us even if we do are not aware of His presence or His pursuit.
Thereby a soul cannot claim to be saved simply because they have been told that God loves them and then bear that news like a mere object of love without taking part as a participant that must respond in kind. It is a radical transformation of the souls life. It lives for only one thing: to make herself as pleasing to God as possible and to devote its entire life to the love of God and the love of other souls for the love of God.
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JessicaHof said:
Thank you, dear friend. Yes, I think that we genin a new life and must grow into it. 🙂 xx
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Servus Fidelis said:
We do indeed never stop growing unless we will it or are indifferent. God help us from falling into either of these categories. 🙂 xx
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JessicaHof said:
Amen, dear friend 🙂 xx
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Servus Fidelis said:
🙂 xx
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theophiletos said:
I don’t think I’ve heard a sermon on the subject of sin, although I’ve heard some sermons that refer to our great propensity for sinning. But a useful book for finding ways to think about and talk about sin without “Christianese” is Cornelius Plantinga’s Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be: A Breviary of Sin. It’s very engagingly written (or maybe only I found it such), and it helps us think through the difficulty you mention of how to go through our lives when people we love are quite content with their sinful state.
I was under the impression from friends who have read (and translated) more Isaac of Nineveh than I have that he actually embraced full universal salvation, and for that reason he was condemned by the Church of the East. But I have not read much of his work myself. I often hear the line that “Abba” means “daddy,” but from my own Aramaic reading I doubt it; it is just the normal form for “the father” with the definite article, and that definite article in Aramaic can indicate a vocative (“o father”). But I’ve seen nothing to indicate an informal stance of it. In Arabic (which has the same word for “father” as Aramaic, but a different definite article) the childish form is “baba,” and I’d expect something similar in old Aramaic. Okay end of nerdiness.
I like your presentation of God as eagerly awaiting for our turning to him, but I think talking about “how difficult it is to love God” does not get us far; it almost makes God sound like some repulsive and unlovable monster and casts ourselves in the role of Beauty in “Beauty and the Beast.” I prefer to think of it that far fewer people than we care to admit make any concessions to God whatsoever. I often call God quite unscrupulous in saving anyone who will give him the flimsiest excuse (he can purify them later, in this life or the next; Roman Catholic teaching, after all, is that the place of purgation has only one exit, into heaven). But the vast majority of people (even many who show up on a Sunday morning) give God nothing to work with. Indeed, I would say that apart from God’s gracious action inside of us, none of us would give him anything to work with, but he who created everything out of nothing also created in us a relationship with himself out of the nothing we provided.
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JessicaHof said:
Thank you for the advice about ‘Abba’, which yes, I have heard from others and I am sure you are correct. I don’t know that St Isaac has been condemned by the Church of the East, as his universalism is conditional; we are forbidden to say all are saved, but not to hope that it will be so, i think,
We are, as you say, too hard of heart, too often, but His Grace and Mercy are wonderful 🙂 xx
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St Bosco said:
Oh saints be with us. Some dear catholics think its too soon to make the wonderful Johnpaul a saint. Oh heavens to betsy. The great and godly Johnpaul did everything he could do to furthur the catholic religion. He made sure nothing happened to Marciel and his Legion of Christ. He saw to it that priests who were discoverd to be molesting young boys were sent to safe houses. He is the very stuff of catholic sainthood.
Three cheers for Johnpaul……..hoorah…hoorah….hoorah
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JessicaHof said:
Bosco – the naughty step is in its usual place …
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St Bosco said:
Dear sister, have you donated to CAVPA this year? “Give till it hurts” is our motto
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JessicaHof said:
That naughty step, Bosco – over there, now!
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St Bosco said:
Yes ma am
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JessicaHof said:
Thank you 🙂 x
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pancakesandwildhoney said:
I don’t think God and love are two realities; they are one. “He who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.” God’s abiding in us, making us his residence, is the same thing as abiding in love, as our having love as the center or core of our habitation.
This sort of love is far greater than faith and hope and it is more than justice even. It puts theological arrogance in its place as well as pious isolation. It is the presence of God himself. For God is love. And in every moment of genuine love we are abiding in God and God in us.
As for the last bit of your post, forgiveness is unconditional or it is not forgiveness at all. Forgiveness has the character of “in spite of” but the righteous ones give it the character of “because”. The sinners, however, cannot do this. They cannot transform the divine “in spite of” into a human “because”. They cannot show facts, because of which they must be forgiven. God’s forgiveness is unconditional. There is no condition whatsoever in man which would make him worthy of forgiveness. If forgiveness were conditional, condtioned by man, no one could be accepted and no one could accept himself. We know that this is our sitiuation, but we loathe to face it. It is too great as a gift and too humiliating as a judgement. We want to contribute something, and if we have learned that we cannot contribute something positive, then we try at least to contribute something negative: the pain of self-accusation and self-rejection. And then we read the parable of the Prodigal Son as if they said: These sinners were forgiven because they humiliated themselves and confessed that they were unacceptable; because they suffered about their sinful predicament they were made worthy of forgiveness. But this reading is a misreading, and a dangerous one at that. If that were the way to our reconciliation with God, we should have to produce within ourselves the feeling of unworthiness, the pain of self-rejection, the anxiety and despair of guilt. There are many Christians who try this in order to show God and themselves that they deserve acceptance. They perform an emotional work of self-punishment after they have realized their other good works do not help them. But emotional works do help either. God’s forgivness is independent of anything we do, even self-accusation and self-humiliation. If this were not so, how could we ever be certain that our self-rejection is serious enough to deserve forgiveness? Forgiveness creates repentance–this is the experience of those who have been forgiven.
There is no condition for forgiveness. But forgiveness could not come to us if we were not asking for it and receiving it. Forgiveness is the answer, the divine answer, to the question implied in our existence. An answer is only an answer for him who has asked, who is aware of the question. This awareness cannot be fabricated. It may be hidden deep within our souls, covered by many layers of righteousness or it may fill our conscious lives in every moment. For many, forgiveness contradicts Jesus’ attitude towards it. Many think of solemn acts of pardon, of release from punishment, in other words, of another act of righteousness by the righteous ones. But genuine forgiveness is participation, reunion overcoming the powers of alienation. And only because this is so, does forgiveness make love possible. We cannot love unless we have accepted forgiveness, and the deeper our experience of forgiveness is, the greater is our love. We cannot love where we feel rejected, even if the rejection is done in righteousness. We are hostile towards that to which we belong and by which we feel judged, even if the judgement is not expressed in words. As long as we feel rejected by God, we cannot love God. He appears to us an oppressive power, as he who gives laws according to his pleasure, who judges according to his commandments, who condemns according to his wrath. But if we have received and accepted the message that He is reconciled, everything changes. We can affirm God and with him our own being and the others from whom we were separated in despair, and life as a whole. Then we realize that God’s love is the law of our own being, and taht it is the law of reuniting love. And we understand that what we have experienced as oppression and judgement and wrath is in reality the working of love, which tries to destroy whithin us everything which is against love. To love this love is to love God. Theologians have questioned whether man is able to have love towards God; they have replaced love with obedience. But they are refuted by Jesus’ actions and his stories. They teach a theology for the righteous ones but not a theology for the sinners. He who is forgiven knows what it meant to love God.
And he who loves God is also able to accept life and to love it. This is not the same as to love God. For many pious people in all generations the love of God is the other side of the hatred of life. But one reunited with God, the creative ground of life, is reunited with the power of life in everything that lives. He feels accepted by it and he can love it.
And, as far as the righteous ones go, they are really righteous, but since little is forgiven them, they love little. And this is their unrighteousness. It does not lie on the moral level, just as the unrighteousness of Job did not lie on the moral level where his friends searched for it in vain. It lies on the level of the encounter with ultimate reality, with the God who vindicates Job’s righteousness against the attacks of his friends, with the God who defends himself against the attacks of Job and his ultimate unrighteousness. The righteousness of the righteous ones is hard and self-assured. They, too, want forgiveness, but they believe they do not need much of it. And so their righteous actions are warmed by very little love. They could not have helped the Prodigal Son, and they cannot help us, even if we admire them. Why do children turn from their righteous parents and husbands from their righteous wives, and vice versa? Why do Christians turn away from their righteous pastors? Why do people turn away from righteous communities? Why do many turn away from righteous Christianity and from the Jesus it paints and the God it proclaims? Why do they turn to those who are not considered to be the righteous ones? Often, certainly, it is because they want to escape judgement. But more often it is because they seek a love which is rooted in forgiveness, and this the righteous ones cannot give.
God bless
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JessicaHof said:
Thank you. I think there is a condition, or rather a consequence – that is repentance on out part 🙂 xx
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St Bosco said:
Long posts outta be against the law
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pancakesandwildhoney said:
I know reading is difficult for you, buddy.
Btw, Bosco, don’t you have a new Saw movie to make?
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NEO said:
Here, I think, is a key concept
“His emphasis is on God’s love, and it is the individual who, by rejecting it, consigns herself to Hell.”
Not least because many of us find it harder to forgive ourselves than others. We often need to remember to forgive ourselves, and not beat ourselves up over past sins because that can lead all to easily to saying, “It’s too late for me, so I might as well keep on.” Strikes me that that may be an additional benefit of confession.
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JessicaHof said:
For me, it is 🙂 xx
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NEO said:
it’s one of the reason the Confessional branch interests me in my church. I sort of envy it, cause it’s not always easy to let go 🙂 xx
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Carl D'Agostino said:
I am trying to be a real good boy. I don’t want to go to the hell place. My ex-wife will certainly be there.
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JessicaHof said:
Those of us who have been through a bad marriage have some foretaste of that Carl – so I pray we none of us end there – and that our former spouses too repent and are saved 🙂 x
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