Saturday, February 15, 2014

Fairy Tales


[The following essay was originally written for an online writing class I had to take in 2010, and so bears the marks of being a “school assignment”. Notwithstanding, it expresses some ideas I have not expressed elsewhere, and therefore I include it here.]

What is the most realistic type of fiction that has commonly been read or listened to by the majority of people throughout history? The answer to that question is easy enough to answer. Naturally, it would be fairy tales. It is true, as some may perhaps object, that one does not often in his daily experience come across pumpkins turning into coaches, or magic beanstalks, and so such people may question as to how realistic such stories actually are. However, I believe this shows a basic confusion as to what “realistic” should mean in this regard. These are only minor details, after all, of what is admittedly a fictional story. In details such as these, any fictional story is (by definition) not realistic, at least in the sense of narrating something that really occurred. (Of course, people often use the term “realistic” in a different sense, but for the moment I am simply going to the root of the word). However, in the more fundamental sense of dealing with truths which certainly are real and expressing them most strongly, it is difficult to come across a better vehicle of expressing these realities than fairy tales. An excellent example of one such tale that expresses important truths (in this case, the nature of true love), and which it would be valuable to analyze to demonstrate what I mean, would be “Beauty and the Beast.” Its depiction of love as well as the assumptions that such is based on go far in showing how true fairy tales really are.

Thus, in this classic, the truth about love is shown in its full beauty. Beauty, perhaps, is the perfect word to describe it. For in this fairy tale, beauty is shown for what it actually is, a quality of the soul, and not merely a matter of appearances. (Perhaps in no other story is the saying “Appearances can be deceiving” so perfectly portrayed.) The tale begins by mentioning three sisters, all three of whom are beautiful as far as outward appearances are concerned, but none so much so as the youngest, Beauty, who is beautiful in soul as well (in contrast to the other two sisters). As a consequence, her humility, love, and goodness enable her to have the wisdom to perceive where true beauty lies when she encounters the Beast. It is true that his external ugliness and apparent lack of sense are not qualities which help to attract her, and in fact she does not wish to marry him at first. However, his constant goodness of heart and patience more and more take the central place in her vision of him, and naturally her own wisdom reinforces her perception that this is a much deeper beauty. At the end, when she fears that the worst has occurred and that he may be dead, she realizes the extent of the love that she has for him, and finding him alive, expresses her wish to marry him. At this point, the Beast is no longer under the condemnation he had been placed under and is now shown to be a handsome prince, but this only externalizes the more important qualities that had lain within all along.

Naturally, such a story has much to teach us about what the basis of true love should be. In a world that so often places emphasis on superficialities such as looks or money, it expresses that such assumptions not only do not display deep love, but neither do they display deep thought. Attraction should not be based by simply noticing the outward qualities of others. If their souls are ugly, one soon ceases to notice even their outward appearances or wealth. Beauty’s sisters discovered this in the case of their own husbands, for instance. Moreover, such beauty as these people have will eventually fade, in any case. At that point, only the internal ugliness will remain. On the other hand, if one realizes, as did Beauty, that inner qualities of the soul are what should be sought for, then that person will discover what really strengthens true love. After all, at the end of the story, does anyone doubt that, even had the Beast remained as he had been before, that in Beauty’s mind he would still appear a handsome prince?

“Beauty and the Beast” is only one example among many that could be presented which show how fairy tales present the deepest of truths. Indeed, that fairy tales are the most realistic form of literature is shown by the fact that the same stories transcend cultures. They do so precisely because they express realities that are so fundamental that they are found in every culture, and are not limited to only one. Everybody should know the story of “Beauty and the Beast” naturally without having ever to hear it. The details might be different when one actually first reads a version of the story or sees a production of it (just as the details are different in the variations of the story found in other cultures), but the basic lesson it contains, which is the greatest part of the story, can be found in our hearts, if only we will listen. In that sense, fairy tales do not teach children about right and wrong. What they do is present to them concrete examples of what children already know. They give encouragement to them. Thus, when “Beauty and the Beast” shows them where true love is to be found, children do not in general criticize the story as being “unrealistic.” It is only later in life that people can come to such a cynical conclusion, after allowing themselves to be deceived by superficialities. If true love is indeed to be found, however, it is only because those involved have retained such childish wisdom. Perhaps this is an additional meaning of the saying that unless we become as a little child, we shall not enter the kingdom of heaven. Certainly, we shall not find a match made in heaven.

In any case, one can hardly find a more moving portrait of true love than that found in “Beauty and the Beast.” If its depiction of true love and the assumptions that underlie such a depiction seem silly to many, and unrealistic, then I can only say so much the worse for those people. It is a belief to which I cannot give my assent. To slightly alter the words of Scripture, the foolishness of fairy tales is wiser than the wisdom of “realistic” literature. Fairy tales deal with realities that all cultures find to be true. If the collective wisdom of mankind is to be despised, then at the least it is safe to say we are no longer democratic. However, the fact that such stories continue to be told fills me with hope that, despite all the challenges to the contrary from our culture, we have not lost this basic grasp of reality. We do not, admittedly, always act on such wisdom as is handed on to us. However, we have not forgotten lessons such as what constitutes real beauty and real love, even if for a time we ignore them, and live to regret it. May we all come to a deeper appreciation of the realistic nature of fairy tales, and be blessed by the lessons they teach.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

Confession

Objection: Why do Catholics confess their sins to a priest? Shouldn’t they go straight to God instead for forgiveness of their sins?

Before answering this question, it may be helpful to first explain the sacrament of confession a little, since there are quite a few misunderstandings concerning it among many non-Catholic Christians. One misconception many non-Catholics have, for example, is thinking that Catholics believe in “confessing one’s sins to a man instead of to God”. Naturally, therefore, they reject the practice since (as they very truly point out) a priest is a fellow sinner, and only God can forgive sins. That is absolutely true. But to think that this argues against the sacrament of confession would be to misunderstand what Catholics believe actually occurs during this sacrament.

For one thing, it should be stressed that Catholics can and should confess their sins in private prayer. For most sins, they can receive forgiveness in that way (for lesser sins, at least). But even when going to confession, a Catholic believes he is confessing his sins to God then as well. He is simply doing so through the instrumentality of a priest, and that God in turn forgives him through the priest. The priest is simply the "flesh", so to speak, that Jesus Christ employs on earth, as He Himself exercises His eternal priesthood in Heaven in reconciling us to His Father.

It is similar to how Christ worked through the Apostles, for instance, when they worked miracles. Even though, strictly speaking, only God can perform miracles, nevertheless one could say that in a secondary sense the Apostles “performed miracles” as well. But they did so only in the sense that Christ worked miracles through them (cf. Acts 3:12-16). The same is true when a priest "forgives" sins. It is only in the sense that Christ works through him, and so it is Christ to whom we confess our sins and who grants us forgiveness, though He uses a priest to do so. (Moreover, while one hopes that the priest is, by the grace of God, a holy man, still, it matters not his own spiritual state, even if he is a very great sinner. After all, it is the Second Person of the Trinity who is primarily forgiving sin, no matter through whom He acts. And God can act through anyone, even if he be such a corrupt man as Balaam or Caiaphas; cf. Nm 22-24; Jn 11:49-52).

Whether or not Catholics are right in believing that Christ so works through priests, of course, is another matter, something I hope to touch on in a minute. At the moment, however, I simply wish to point out that such a belief (whether right or wrong) is nevertheless quite different from a futile attempt to try to obtain forgiveness from a fellow sinner, as if the priest could, by his own authority, grant such forgiveness. (Rather, he stands in need of forgiveness just as much himself!)

So why do Catholics believe that priests have such authority to forgive sins (again, only in the sense that Christ works through them)? The short answer is because Christ granted unto His Apostles the authority to forgive sins as an essential part of their mission, and such power has been handed down to their successors. We read in the Gospel of John that Jesus appeared to his Apostles on the evening of that first Easter and gave them this power.
Then the same day at evening, being the first day of the week, when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the Jews, came Jesus and stood in the midst, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you. And when he had so said, he showed unto them his hands and his side. Then were the disciples glad, when they saw the Lord. Then said Jesus to them again, Peace be unto you: as my Father hath sent me, even so send I you. And when he had said this, he breathed on them, and saith unto them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost: Whoseover sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them; and whoseover sins ye retain, they are retained. (John 20:19-23)
As we see in the above passage of Holy Scripture, Jesus sends his Apostles on a mission, just as He himself had been sent by His Father. Included in this mission is forgiving (or, as the case may be, retaining) sins. Naturally, precisely because the Apostles were simply men, they could not forgive sins by their own power. Only God has the ability to forgive sins. But just as only God can work miracles, yet can employ men as His instruments in doing so by Himself working through them, the same is true when it comes to the forgiveness of sins. That is why Christ breathes on the Apostles first, and gives unto them the Holy Ghost, so that, working by the power of the Holy Ghost, they would have the ability to accomplish the mission He gave them, being the instruments Christ uses on earth to apply the merits of His exercise of His eternal priesthood in Heaven (the latter described in the book of Hebrews). What Paul wrote in another (admittedly different) context would nevertheless apply to confession as well:
And all things are of God, who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, and hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation; To wit, that God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them, and hath committed unto us the word of reconciliation. Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God." (2 Corinthians 5:18-20)
(Again, Paul was writing in a different context. For the present, however, it is enough to note a certain parallel between this passage and the one from John, since in both passages it shows that God reconciles us to Himself through the ministry of other human beings.)

Of course, for the Apostles (and in consequence their successors and to whomever such delegated their authority) to be able to know whether to “remit” sins, or whether instead to “retain" them, they would need to know the sins and the relevant circumstances, and whether the one seeking forgiveness was truly repentant of his sins. (After all, it is quite easy to say that we are "sorry" when speaking in a general way about our sins, and yet when it comes to specific sins, not necessarily be sorry for those in particular. Or perhaps we may rationalize them away. Yet repentance for any sin is necessary for it to be forgiven). Since God did not also grant the power of reading the minds of others to priests, naturally this implies the necessity of one to confess his sins in particular to the priest (not giving great detail; just the number and type, with only enough detail as is necessary) and to express sorrow for them, so the priest can make this decision. As can be imagined, it is only on the rarest of occasions that a priest would "retain" sins, and that only if it seems manifest that the person is not truly repentant. That very rarely occurs (since most people who would take all the trouble to confess a sin are not likely to do it unless they are repentant), but it can happen. For instance, a person may confess a sin, but try to rationalize it away, but it is simply a rationalization, and nothing more. The normal course, however, is that if a priest is going to err, he is going to err on the side of assuming that the person is truly repentant, not the other way. (In any case, if a priest, for whatever reason, "remits" sins to someone who is not repentant, or in very rare cases "retains" sins to someone who is repentant, God is not deceived. It is primarily God the sinner is confessing to, and He will forgive or retain accordingly, even if the one confessing may need to try to rectify the situation still.)

Needless to say, the problem of sin is one that afflicts every generation, and forgiveness of sins is something that people of every generation need. Christ died on the cross since we are all sinners, and not just the people in the Apostles’ time, and in the areas that they themselves visited. Consequently, the Apostles both delegated such authority to others as well as passed on such authority to future generations. Hence, why we see that from the earliest ages of Christianity, people availed themselves of this sacrament.

This does not mean the sacrament of confession is the only means for Christians to receive forgiveness of sins. First, we all commit venial (lesser) sins all the time. It would be impossible to confess all of those in particular. So for venial sins, confessing to God through regular prayer and receiving forgiveness by such means is sufficient. Rather, for the sacrament of confession, one need only confess their mortal (serious) sins, though confessing some venial sins, even those already forgiven, can be helpful. Certainly, for the practical necessity mentioned above, it is a reasonable interpretation of Jesus's words in John 20 to be understood as only referring to mortal sins as strictly necessary to be confessed (and such has been so understood by the historic Church).

Moreover, even for mortal sins, the Church has always understood that going to confession is only a normative necessity, not an absolute necessity, in order to receive forgiveness. For instance, if someone is about to die, but is not able to go to confession, then if they have perfect contrition (i.e., sorrow for sins, not simply because of fear of punishment, but out of a supernatural love for God, knowing that such sins offend Him), then God will forgive them. God obliges no one to the impossible. It is true repentance that He seeks most of all, of course. (In fact, that is the case for Catholics in any circumstances, not just when in danger of death: whenever a Catholic has perfect contrition, he is forgiven of all sins, even mortal sins, though it should be kept in mind that such contrition implies the will to do whatever God wills the person to do, including going to the sacrament of confession as soon as possible.)

The same thing would also apply to a non-Catholic. Generally speaking, non-Catholics are unaware of (or at least honestly unconvinced) of the necessity of the sacrament of confession, through no fault of their own. That being the case, they do not go to confession. Yet that does not mean they cannot have perfect contrition for their sins. Since that is what God looks for most of all, then if they do have such perfect contrition, He forgives their sins anyway, since they are in invincible ignorance of the necessity of confession.  (Of course, I do not mean to imply that it is a matter of indifference therefore as to whether one should be a Catholic since, among other things, one who does know that Catholicism is true is obligated to become Catholic, lest he sin mortally against conscience.)

In other words, this sacrament, while normative, is nevertheless not the only way to receive forgiveness of mortal sins. (After all, the sacrament of confession was made for man, and not man for the sacrament of confession.)

As to why Jesus instituted this sacrament, that is a matter of speculation. For a Catholic, the very fact that He did establish it is sufficient reason for us, even if we did not at all understand the reasons why He did so. Christ is God, and certainly knows what He is doing. Yet there are some very practical reasons I can think of as to why it is so valuable. First, there is one that I mentioned earlier: that in private prayer it is easy to rationalize sins away, obviously something that can be prevented when confessing to a priest. Second, hearing the words of God’s forgiveness in an audible manner is such a blessing, knowing that we are forgiven, in spite of what we may "feel" or "not feel", as the case may be. Our human nature was created by God in such a way that such a concrete form (an "Incarnational" form, one could say) is very helpful. Third, the priest is able to give us much practical advice on how to combat such temptations to sin in the future. (And, precisely because he is in a more objective position to give such advice, it is so often things we would have never thought of, because we are “too close to the situation”.) No doubt there are many other reasons as well.

This is simply a sketch of why Catholics go to confession, though it is possible to go into more detail. (Incidentally, it is not only Catholics that practice confession. Basically, all Christian groups except Protestants do so, such as the Orthodox, Copts, etc. And, in fact, even some Protestants do as well- C.S. Lewis, for example, went to confession to an Anglican priest. So it is not a distinctively Catholic practice, in other words.)

Saturday, January 4, 2014

Ideology

More and more in our polarized society, it seems, it is considered a sort of treason by some not to become a complete ideologue (even when such a position is not expressed in so many words). We see such Manichean thinking everyday. As a result, many otherwise sane people are often reduced to talking utter nonsense out of a sense of false loyalty to a particular viewpoint. Take the obvious question of whether one is in politics a "conservative" or a "liberal". I'll only briefly mention the fairly evident fact that such a question is a false dichotomy. (Quite apart from the existence of moderates, of course, which fact is recognized, there is the fact less remembered by some that such a question only makes sense in the context of a single issue, if always then, yet, needless to say, there are more issues than one which one can ask the question about. One can be, not only "conservative", but very conservative in the context of one issue, and simultaneously be not only "liberal", but very liberal, in the context of another issue, yet be perfectly consistent and have a perfectly coherent view of life, despite such “extremism”. And then there are some issues in which one does not even fall on the continuum, because one is approaching the question from a completely different plane. There can indeed be a general sense in which one is "conservative" or "liberal", I acknowledge- more on that below- but only when taking into account the preceding factors.) No, I wish to focus on the fact that it is even worse than a false dichotomy. Rather, it is a complete inability to grasp the relative importance of ends and means.

What, after all, is the purpose of politics, or, indeed, of life in general? There are many different answers that can be given to that question. But however one answers that question should also determine how he approaches other subordinate questions. Generally speaking, everybody wishes to progress in the sense that everyone wishes to reach a certain goal. Progress is a journey to a destination, and how well you progress depends on how closely you reach your goal. But like any other journey, there is usually not simply one direction in one's steps of approaching the goal. Even the best way of approaching it usually consists of many different turns. If I wish to go to a friend's house, for instance, and am given directions, it would be very unusual indeed to hear of directions that consisted entirely of "turn right" at every single intersection, or otherwise to "turn left” every time. That would basically consist of simply going in circles and never actually arriving at his house. Similarly, in politics, to "turn right" in the sense of turning to the Right, or "turn left" in the sense of turning to the Left, on every single issue, as a matter of principle, is insane.

It seems, however, that many have made such "directions" as goals in and of themselves, and have completely lost sight of the ends that they were wishing for. They are so focused on the means, that in consequence they forget the very ends they were seeking, and indeed are willing to sacrifice the ends they originally desired if only to continue with the means! They first seek some political perspective as the means to some vision of life. But soon they will sacrifice their vision of life, if only to be a better partisan! Now if that is not insane, what is?

That does not mean, of course, that one cannot generally be described with political labels. I myself, for instance, would no doubt be considered (generally speaking) as a "conservative". There are other people who would be, generally speaking, considered as "liberal". (While I would probably disagree with them concerning the primary question of the purpose of politics or life, and consequently their goals, still, given their own first principles, and the ends they are seeking, they could still be quite consistent, at least, even if mistaken). But the problem is that too many people have jettisoned their original goals, and have instead made being "conservative" or "liberal" as ends in themselves, rather than simply as means. That is the mark of an ideologue. I may be conservative generally (in the context of today's society), but I am not a conservative as an end in itself. Consequently, if I encounter a "conservative" position that contradicts my first principles, then I will sacrifice being a conservative in that instance, and not my first principles. Because conservatism was only a means, not a goal in itself.

In short, it is good to recall what Christ reminded the Pharisees: that the Sabbath was made for man, and not man for the Sabbath. Or, in other words, don't sacrifice the end to the means.