Wednesday of the Second Week in Ordinary Time

Lake Mount Saint Francis

 Lectionary: 313

Blessed be the LORD, my rock,
who trains my hands for battle,
my fingers for war;
My safeguard and my fortress,
my stronghold, my deliverer,
My shield, in whom I take refuge,
who subdues peoples under me.

One of many slogans of the Twelve Step movement: "The efforts are ours; the results are God's." 

The spiritual life is often compared to combat. Medieval warriors, weary of warfare and its promises of glory, often retreated to the monastery to take up spiritual warfare. They practiced the disciplines of fasting, vigils, prayer, sacred study, and manual labor as if they could fight the Tempter with eternal vigilance. Their example still inspires Christians to keep watch over their selfish impulses by daily prayer and pious conversation. 

The gravest temptation is that of Pelagius, the fourth century English monk. The handsome, young preacher, arriving in Rome, taught gullible Christians that the Lord had finished his saving work when they were baptized. Blessed with restored innocence, they should maintain and defend it against every temptation. The popular heretic stressed human autonomy and freedom of the will. We can avoid sinning and freely choose to obey God's commandments. 

Nor should anyone expect a second chance. Pelagius regarded the Church's practice of restoring sinners to communion as cheap grace. God owes us nothing and will not condone softness. 

Saint Augustine had a much deeper experience of God's mercy and his own human weakness. He personally felt Saint Paul's anguish: 

I discover the principle that when I want to do right, evil is at hand. For I take delight in the law of God, in my inner self, but I see in my members another principle at war with the law of my mind, taking me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Miserable one that I am! Who will deliver me from this mortal body?

Pelagianism leads inevitably to pretense among Christians. Rather than admit their human weakness and  confess their sins to one another or the priest, they must hide and deny their slips, lapses, and outright deceptions. The American preoccupation with appearances is founded on this religious doctrine. We feel compelled to look good in front of others even as we condemn those who don't. Failure, poverty, disappointment, miscalculations: these and other human faults must be hidden lest people think we have lost God's favor. In that rigid way of thinking, God is humorless, arbitrary, and always looking for our picayune failings. 

The virtue of Penance teaches Christians -- and the Sacrament of Penance teaches Catholics -- to lighten up. We sin. We sin often. Our best intentions and sincerest intentions are often sabotaged by human weakness, miscalculation of our strength, and poor preparation. Discovering the love of God flickering in our hearts we throw sacrificial logs onto it, rather than kindling, and smother it. 

With the egg of guilt on our faces, we learn to laugh at our pretensions and accept -- again! -- God's compassionate embrace. Penance shows me the deep abyss of my human helplessness and the infinite depth of God's merciful kindness. 

Penance reminds me that my life is not about me! It's about the Lord. And my story is like David's slaying the giant Goliath, a mighty work.