Confraternity of Penitents Monthly Newsletter -- July 2019

NO GREATER LOVE: THE WORD AS JUDGMENT

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When we contemplate the Word of God, it comes to us certainly as our salvation but also as our judge. This can be very uncomfortable. In his book Prayer, theologian Hans Urs Von Balthasar explains for us why this is true. What God tells us is his truth, not ours. It only becomes ours in so far as he speaks it and gives it to us, in so far as we submit to it. To the extent that we fail to submit to it and rebel against God, the word becomes our judgment. It is impossible, therefore, to enter into the truth of the word except as those who are judged, recognizing that our "being apart from the word" has been condemned and sentenced. This judgment takes place "once" (ἅπαξ) with an iron necessity, utterly fixed and unshakeable, at the point where God pronounces his condemnatory No to sin, to the old sinful aeon. The center of this No is the cross; all particular judgments, whether relating to individual men and women on their entry into the Church, or to particular phases of their earthly lives (in confession for instance), or to the believer's whole existence which is summed up after his death in a final conspectus (in the "particular" judgment) --- all these are only applications of that central judgment. There is only one economy of salvation and, in it, the cross (the sign of the Son of Man coming in the clouds) is the alpha and omega of all judgment.

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Von Balthasar next tells us what this means for each particular Christian. Confronted with the word of God, the Christian experiences a division within himself which shows up sin's self- contradictory character. As a baptized person he has undergone the judgment of the word of God; in principle he has abjured the dominion of the demons which lie under God's damnation, to which he formerly was subject; he has acknowledged God's truth to be his own, Christian truth in place of Satan's lie. But he cannot manage to keep this "baptismal vow" unbroken throughout his earthly life. He falls into sin, whether light or grievous, not merely through inadvertence or physical weakness but also, always, by spiritually rebelling against the truth of the word (otherwise we could not speak of moral guilt). If, where grave matter is concerned, he opposes his own word to God's word in complete free will, he commits mortal sin. If, however, he does this in a grave matter but not in a fully free and conscious way, or in a light matter (which he knows to be such), so that he does not reject the fundamental authority of the word in his life, his sin is only venial. Even here, however, he introduces a contradiction into his own existence; indeed, he contradicts his own word, for he maintains that he is a Christian and (in his baptismal vow) has actually sworn so solemnly. And since no one is without sin, and anyone who says he is, is deceiving himself and is outside God's truth (1 Jn 1:8), it remains a fact that, for every man, as long as he lives, the word of God which brings grace also presents the aspect of judgment. Here, Von Balthasar gives us the traditional teaching on mortal and venial sin which is certainly familiar to those of us who were Catholic in the period before Vatican II. This teaching, however, has been deemphasized or rejected by much of modern moral theology. One needs to make a “fundamental” decision against God in the depths of one’s being in order to lose one’s salvation. It is taught that a person cannot lose their salvation on the basis of an individual action. This “fundamental option” teaching was rejected by Pope John Paul II in his encyclical The Splendor of the Truth. However, it has not been abandoned by many in the Church.

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Theologian Von Balthasar also tells how all this relates to contemplation and especially our personal contemplation. This is particularly in evidence where man puts himself spiritually in the presence of God's word, as in contemplation. In everyday life he can banish the contradiction from his conscious mind or put off its solution to a more propitious time (which gives him a temporary sense of security); in contemplation he cannot do that. He must look the word in the eye, he must feel God's gaze upon his life, and he is obliged to condemn himself and acknowledge that God is in the right. This is one of the main reasons why people are so good at avoiding contemplative prayer; even if they affirm the necessity of it in general, they recoil from personal encounter with the word.

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It is impossible to contemplate the word without the serious intention of doing justice to it in practical behavior. It demands love for God and our neighbor, and does so with such immediate and unmistakable urgency that it is pointless even to pause before this demand unless we are willing to respond. It calls for prayer, unceasing prayer, and it is at bottom sheer stupidity to respond to this demand theoretically if we allow it no claim on our life. Theological reflection on the word without the accompanying readiness for repentance is bound to lead to a heightening of the existential contradiction; many Christians are aware of this and consequently, if they have decided that they are not going to make any decisive changes for the better in their lives, they are honest (in a way) in leaving contemplation alone.

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Finally, Von Balthasar tries to correct the contemporary image of Jesus as only the gentle Lamb of God but not the fiery judge as he is portrayed in the Book of Revelation. The contemplative must have the courage to face the Word's sharp sword and fiery appearance. Initially there seems to be a repetition of the Old Testament truth that no one can see God and live. To really see the Word of God in contemplation just as he is, undisguised and unveiled, without being shielded by sin and habit, must throw us to the ground "as though dead". The more insistently and mercilessly the full light of Truth approaches, the less we are able to bear it; for if the Word, "in the likeness of men" (Phil 2:7) is able to fill the full measure of love before our eyes, what excuse can we make to him and his love? And if God's love so humbles itself to become the human friend of all men, does it not become (by the same token) the most implacable "foe" (as Augustine insisted) of the sinner in his obstinate refusal to love? "I will come. . . and war against them with the sword of my mouth" (Rev 2:16). The visionary describes the Logos as he goes out to do battle, his eyes like flames of fire, with his robe dipped in blood and a sharp sword issuing from his mouth "with which to smite the nations, and he will rule them with a rod of iron; he will tread the wine press of the fury of the wrath of God the Almighty" (Rev 19:11-15). No one who prays can say that this form [Gestalt] of the Word does not apply to him, but only the gentle figure of Jesus the Redeemer. If we fail to let the word's sharp edge have its effect on us, we shall always be meeting a merely imaginary Redeemer; if we fail to face the judgment of Christ every time we contemplate, we shall not perceive the distinctive quality of divine grace. The consuming fire of crucified Love is both redemption and judgment; the two are inseparable and indistinguishable. It almost does not matter which word of holy scripture the contemplative chooses; the fire to which he exposes himself will not abate until it has penetrated his inmost being, provided that he yields to it and does not draw back. "For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart. And before him no creature is hidden, but all are open and laid bare to the eyes of him with whom we have to do" (Heb 4:12-13). This tremendous affirmation concerning the Logos applies not only to particular utterances, to occasional isolated actions on his part; it describes his very being. Every word of revelation, every word of the Old Covenant, the gospel, the epistles of the apostles and the Revelation to John clearly displays this characteristic of judgment. It will be experienced by anyone who is prepared to face it. Thus, contemplation is an anticipation of the fire of judgment, which is nothing other than the final and inescapable confrontation with the Word for all who have so far avoided it.

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The criterion for our own particular judgement will be the Word. When we contemplate the Word with the aim of conforming our lives to it, we are in a sense “studying” for that final “final exam” which no one is exempt from taking. When we do this honestly it will bring us great consolation, since what other criterion for our judgement can there be other than the Word? – Jim Nugent, CFP