First, God declares that the wicked person who turns away from wickedness and does justice will be forgiven and saved.
A lot of people would take issue with that. Has the wicked person really turned away from wickedness? What guarantees do we have that he’ll never sin again? Shouldn’t he be punished for his wickedness despite his apparent reform? Doesn’t letting him walk away Scot- free send the wrong signal to other wicked persons? What about reparation for his sins?
God seems to answer all these questions without directly addressing them. That is, his pleasure outweigh our concerns: Do I indeed derive any pleasure from the death of the wicked? says the Lord God. Do I not rather rejoice when he turns from his evil way that he may live?
Our virtuous person might decide to let that go. There’s no point in quarreling with God about his pleasure or his dealing with the wicked. That doesn’t concern me.
But if the virtuous man turns from the path of virtue to do evil, the same kind of abominable things that the wicked man does, can he do this and still live?
Finally the complaint of the virtuous bursts out of him, “The Lord’s way is not fair!” First he lets the wicked walk, and then he dooms the virtuous.
If it’s not clear what is going on here, let me explain it as I see it. The complainer in this story has claimed for himself the name and title of virtuous. Whether he deserves the name or not, he thinks he is virtuous. He thinks he can judge himself by God’s standards and he judges himself a pretty decent fellow – a virtuous man.
So in the role of a virtuous person, like an actor on stage who has forgotten that he is only playing the role of a virtuous person, he complains, “The Lord’s way is not fair!"
What about all the times I didn't run a red light? What about all the people I didn't cheat? When I could have, and gotten away with it!
He has essentially transferred his identity -- or given his soul -- to play-acting the role of an imaginary character called virtuous, and he expects salvation for this role. But “God cannot hear the prayers of those who do not exist.” The actor is real, but his role is fictional.
He has essentially transferred his identity -- or given his soul -- to play-acting the role of an imaginary character called virtuous, and he expects salvation for this role. But “God cannot hear the prayers of those who do not exist.” The actor is real, but his role is fictional.
Because he is so deeply committed to the appearances of virtue this fellow cannot see the evil he is doing and he cannot understand why God condemns him.
It might be helpful to ask myself, what roles do I assume in the presence of others, of God, of myself? For instance, as a priest, am I “The Priest” who dares to represent the judgment of God to the sinners around me, condemning them for their wrongdoing? It’s an easy role to play because some people expect it of me. They might think I am a bad priest if I don’t condemn certain people! Or do I acknowledge my sins and stand with others and say, “O God have mercy on us sinners?”
When I judge another as wicked or myself as virtuous, I have claimed to be a person equal to God. I do not exist; my prayer cannot be heard.
As Saint Francis of Assisi was fond of saying, “What a man is before God, that is what he is and nothing more.”
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.