Why do I Care?

Last week I watched an episode of Mother Angelica where she, in an offhand way, commented on the human tendency to point out the flaws of others.  There's a lot of irony on display there: Mother Angelica was never shy to point out the flaws of others, and by cautioning us not to point out flaws of others she was, in fact, pointing out our own flaws.

In light of the past couple of years dealing with Pope Francis I'd been reflecting on this and related issues and I keep coming back to the question: Why Do I Care?  Pope Francis is, rightly or wrongly, portrayed as an indulgent grandfatherly figure who can't really be bothered to call a sin a sin.  That's not true: he insults people all the time and he's always encouraging people to go to confession.  But it's clear that he has preached "mercy" to the point that a lot of people wonder if there are indeed any consequences of sin.

But why do I care about that?  He's the Pope. He has the power to bind and loose. He can say whatever he wants.  Why should I get worked up about it?

Two images come to mind.  My young niece and nephew (aged 2 and 3 at the time) were arguing and their mother was losing her patience and told my niece (who was instigating the conflict) that if "If you don't stop by the time I count to three, you're getting a spanking!"  In characteristic fashion, she counted to three very slowly. Too slowly for my nephew who finally exploded "Say 'three' and spank her!"  Do I secretly want the Pope to smack down those whose sins I don't approve of?  Do I want him to direct his considerable venom towards my political or cultural foes?  Am I, in fact, acting like a three-year old?

The other image that frequently comes to mind is actually my favorite parable:

Matthew 20:1-16New American Bible (Revised Edition) (NABRE)

The Workers in the Vineyard.^{[a] 1} “The kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out at dawn to hire laborers for his vineyard. ² After agreeing with them for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. ³ Going out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace, ^4 [b]and he said to them, ‘You too go into my vineyard, and I will give you what is just.’ ⁵ So they went off. [And] he went out again around noon, and around three o’clock, and did likewise. ⁶ Going out about five o’clock, he found others standing around, and said to them, ‘Why do you stand here idle all day?’ ⁷ They answered, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You too go into my vineyard.’ ^8 [c]When it was evening the owner of the vineyard said to his foreman, ‘Summon the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and ending with the first.’ ⁹ When those who had started about five o’clock came, each received the usual daily wage. ¹⁰ So when the first came, they thought that they would receive more, but each of them also got the usual wage. ¹¹ And on receiving it they grumbled against the landowner, ¹² saying, ‘These last ones worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us, who bore the day’s burden and the heat.’ ¹³ He said to one of them in reply, ‘My friend, I am not cheating you.^[d] Did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? ^14 [e]Take what is yours and go. What if I wish to give this last one the same as you? ¹⁵ [Or] am I not free to do as I wish with my own money? Are you envious because I am generous?’ ^16 [f]Thus, the last will be first, and the first will be last.”

I've always imagined that I'm one of the people chosen towards the end of the day, and I'm happy that I don't have to settle for just a small slice of heaven because of my late turn to the Lord.

In fact, I consider myself rather libertarian in my cultural outlook. I don't actually much care what people do for a living or how they live their lives.  I have a skill of minding my own business.  I like to think that I encourage people to be kind and generous through my own example, but I have to admit my track record of actual evangelization is pretty poor.  So if  I'm happy that I get to sneak in at the last minute, why should I care if the institutional Church seems to be giving a pass to other people?

Let's say Francis' critics are right: that he doesn't care about marriage and would prefer that annulments were automatic upon the grant of a divorce in civil courts.  For that matter, why get married at all?  He thinks people living together are just as married as people who stood before the altar to say "I do".  Even though he wrote a book called the Joy of Love, he doesn't see much joy in love and wants to make it as easy as possible to enter into a relationship and as easy as possible to get out of said relationship when the joy is gone.

Why do I care about that?  

By this time, you may be expecting a profound answer, but I'm actually still trying to figure it out. 

What our society consists of now is what H. Richard Niebuhr famously described as  “A God without wrath brought men without sin into a Kingdom without judgment through the ministrations of a Christ without a Cross.”  It is succinctly summarized by the post-modern phrase "spiritual but not religious".  God is great, if we even believe in Him, but it's simply enough to call on Him, if we believe in Him, during times of trial.  There's no commitment on our part is required. We don't have to go to Church, don't have to change our lives or anything.  Maybe we post a meme on Facebook once in a while to show we're spiritual. But if not, that's OK too.

That doesn't sound right to me. In my reading of the Bible, and the lives of the saints and my own life, I've concluded that conversion requires accepting Jesus and a change in your life.  I believe "repent" is one of the more common words on Jesus' lips and "repent" doesn't just mean saying "my bad" and going on, it means changing your life so as to not fall into sin again. 

It seems that the Church has stopped preaching that.  It seems that the Church, itself, is now "spiritual but not religious".

Part of me, it must be said, is jealous.  I changed my life, so other people need to change their lives too.  When my nephew said "Say 'three' and spank her" he was speaking as one who'd been spanked himself more than once and wanted the same punishment meted out to his sister.  I can say a lot of things like "justice requires this" and I can express a philanthropic wish that all men be saved and the way of salvation requires a change of heart and a change of heart is expressed through a change of life.  But the real reason is: I had to do it, you have to as well.

My life is a whole lot better since I turned away from my past sins, and I anticipate it will be better still when I turn away from my present sins.  And I do want everyone else to experience the joy that I have, and I do feel that this means changing your life.  "There's nothing worse than a reformed sinner" as they say.  So it's not totally wrong to say I am worried about the state of my neighbor's souls, but mostly I just don't want them getting off easy.

Another thing that strikes me is an idea that I picked up from the lives of the saints.  A sin is a sin.  The sin can be forgiven, but it's still a sin, and God doesn't like sins.  And I don't want God to be angry, especially not at me but also not at my neighbor.  When the lightening bolt hits him, I might get burned by the shrapnel.  By proactively dismissing or explaining away the presence of sin, I think the Church is welcoming towards people (in the sense of getting them in the door) but I think it is also getting very close to saying "this is not a sin" rather than "this is a sin that can be forgiven".

Another thing that strikes me is that in the parable above, the workers chosen at the last hour actually worked for an hour.  The land owner didn't just walk through the marketplace and say "Well, you didn't know I was hiring and that's not your fault, so here's a day's wages anyway."  No, (1) he called them and (2) they followed and (3) they did the work.  That makes sense to me.  Perhaps I'm too linear in my thinking.  To short circuit that and say "well, we didn't tell anyone about sin for the past few decades, so we can hardly blame them if they fall into sin" is to engage in a dangerous line of thought that Joseph Ratzinger dealt with in On Conscience.

I first became aware of the question with all its urgency in the beginning of my academic teaching. In the course of a dispute, a senior colleague, who was keenly aware of the plight of being Christian in our times, expressed the opinion that one should actually be grateful to God that He allows there to be so many unbelievers in good conscience. For if their eyes were opened and they became believers, they would not be capable, in this world of ours, of bearing the burden of faith with all its moral obligations. But as it is, since they can go another way in good conscience, they can still reach salvation. 

What shocked me about this assertion was not in the first place the idea of an erroneous conscience given by God Himself in order to save men by means of such artfulness—the idea, so to speak, of a blindness sent by God for the salvation of those in question. What disturbed me was the notion it harbored that faith is a burden that can hardly be borne and that was, no doubt, intended only for stronger natures—faith almost as a kind of punishment—in any case, an imposition not easily coped with. 

According to this view, faith would not make salvation easier but harder. Being happy would mean not being burdened with having to believe or having to submit to the moral yoke of the faith of the Catholic Church. The erroneous conscience, which makes life easier and marks a more human course, would then be the real grace, the normal way to salvation. Untruth, keeping truth at bay, would be better for man than truth. It would not be the truth that would set him free, but rather he would have to be freed from the truth. Man would be more at home in the dark than in the light. Faith would not be the good gift of the good God but instead an affliction.

If this were the state of affairs, how could faith give rise to joy? Who would have the courage to pass faith on to others? Would it not be better to spare them the truth or even keep them from it? In the last few decades, notions of this sort have discernibly crippled the disposition to evangelize. The one who sees the faith as a heavy burden or as a moral imposition is unable to invite others to believe. Rather, he lets them be, in the putative freedom of their good consciences.

Ratzinger, Joseph Cardinal (2010-11-19). On Conscience (Bioethics & Culture) (pp. 13-15). Ignatius Press. Kindle Edition.

But I do think Faith gives rise to Joy. I honestly can't explain why, anymore than I can explain why I love my wife.  But it does and to hear people mess around with that offends me in the way that someone might argue with me over a matter of mathematics or geography.  The facts are the facts.

Another thing, probably the most obvious thing, is that this world is awful.  As I write this the city of Dallas is still reeling from a sniper eager to start a race war who opened fire on an otherwise peaceful demonstration.  Before the bodies were cold, people were already spreading memes on Facebook and Twitter about how the shootings would impact the current president and the people running to replace him.  Yeah, five people lost their lives, but the real victim is Donald Trump, or Barack Obama.  I'd like to think that if the Church spent a little more time calling people to a holy life and a little less time looking for loopholes in the Church's teaching our world might be a little bit better.  It won't be paradise, but perhaps we can avoid some of the more egregious public displays of Original Sin. 

So there you have it.  Part of me is an immature three-year old and part of me is a disciple of a German Theologian who went on to be Pope and part of me wants relief from a society gone mad.