Bishop Barron: "Polishing the Diamonds" [with comments]

Polishing the Diamonds [link here]

By Bishop Robert Barron

There is a regrettable interpretation of the cross that has, unfortunately, infected the minds of many Christians. This is the view that the bloody sacrifice of the Son on the cross was “satisfying” to the Father, and appeasement of a God infinitely angry at sinful humanity. In this reading, the crucified Jesus is like a child hurled into the fiery mouth of a pagan divinity in order to assuage its wrath. 

[Really? Are there “many Christians” who believe this? Or is this a straw man? Say you get a crowd of 500 Christians and ask for a show of hands: “Who believes this?” I wonder how many hands would go up. (Very few, if any, I would guess.)]

But what ultimately refutes this twisted theology is the well-known passage from John’s Gospel: “God so loved the world, that he sent his only Son, that all who believe in him might have eternal life.” John reveals that it is not out of anger or vengeance or in a desire for retribution that the Father sends the Son, but precisely out of love. God the Father is not some pathetic divinity whose bruised personal honor needs to be restored; rather God is a parent who burns with compassion for his children who have wandered into danger. 

[Oops. Bishop Barron (because of his own twisted universalist theology?) is being not quite honest here. The well-known passage reads: “God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, so that all who believe in him might not perish, but might have eternal life.” Barron omits “might not perish” and fails to mention the immediately following caveat: “Whoso believes in him is not condemned; but whoso does not believe is already condemned, since he has not believed in the name of the only-begotten Son of God.” He talks only about ‘burning compassion’ and infantilizes sinners sinning (for Barron, we sinners are all just “children who have wandered into danger”), while ignoring the perfectly clear note of warning to those who do not believe. But the only-begotten Son is, of course, a sign of contradiction, destined precisely for the rise and the ruin of many.]

Does the Father hate sinners? No, but he hates sin. Does God harbor indignation at the unjust? No, but God despises injustice. Thus God sends his Son, not gleefully to see him suffer, but compassionately to set things right. 

[Okay, Bishop, but I wonder: Is sin really more hateful than a sinner? Is injustice really more hateful than an unjust person? Are particular acts of wickedness really more hateful than the source of wickedness, the heart from which wickedness comes (see, e.g., Mark 7:20)? In Revelation 3:16, does God threaten to vomit the lukewarm believer from his mouth, or just the sin of lukewarmness? How about this: Does the Father hate unbelievers? No – but he condemns them. Does the Father hate sinners? No – but he condemns them if they do not believe in his only-begotten Son. As for the claim that God does not send his Son “gleefully to see him suffer,” surely that is all-too-obvious; but Barron’s claim that instead he sends him “compassionately to set things right” seems to be also not correct, and certainly more of a trite platitude than a satisfying explanation of Christ’s mission and death by crucifixion.]

St. Anselm, the great medieval theologian, who is often unfairly blamed for the cruel theology of satisfaction, was eminently clear on this score. We sinners are like diamonds that have fallen into the muck. Made in the image of God, we have soiled ourselves through violence and hatred. God, claimed Anselm, could have simply pronounced a word of forgiveness from heaven, but this would not have solved the problem. It would not have restored the diamonds to their original brilliance. Instead, in his passion to reestablish the beauty of creation, God came down into the muck of sin and death, brought the diamonds up, and then polished them off. 

[It would be worth examining some actual Anselmian texts here. Again, however, this seems clearly not what God came to do: “re-establish the beauty of creation” – and if that was what God had wanted to do, Barron has still not at all explained why the awful, bloody cross was necessary for this, or even why it was helpful. We should also note that Barron gives no evidence of believing in original sin here: he claims that we have “fallen into the muck,” we have “soiled ourselves through violence and hatred.” This sounds like personal sin. But the first sin was a sin of pride and disobedience to God, and we are all “in the muck” not primarily because of our “violence and hatred” (personal sins), but because of the Fall: we universally inherit the fallen condition (our understanding, willing, and desiring are all more or less out of whack), that is, we inherit the original divine punishment of the original human sin against God. The prevalence and inevitability of our personal sins (violence, hatred, etc.) follow from our being in this penal state.]

In so doing of course, God had to get dirty. This sinking into the dirt—this divine solidarity with the lost—is the “sacrifice” which the Son makes to the infinite pleasure of the Father. It is the sacrifice expressive, not of anger or vengeance, but of compassion. 

[“In doing so of course, God had to get dirty.” Oy! What to say? Just, oy! This explains nothing! Why would his only-begotten Son’s “sinking into the dirt” give “infinite pleasure” to the Father? “Solidarity with the lost” sounds nice, but again, the bit about condemning unbelievers is conspicuously unaccounted for.]

Jesus said that any disciple of his must be willing to take up his cross and follow the master. If God is self-forgetting love even to the point of death, then we must be such love. If God is willing to break open his own heart, then we must be willing to break open our hearts from [for?] others. The cross, in short, must become the very structure of the Christian life.

[First, yes, Jesus said that. But secondly and thirdly, the two “if-then” statements that follow stand sorely in need of some explaining. Likewise, the cross is certainly a central symbol in Christian doctrine and life, but it’s not at all clear what it means to say that it “must become the very structure of the Christian life.” It is easy enough to see how various parts of Christian life need to be related to the cross, but very difficult to see how the cross itself could become the very structure of Christian life. Perhaps a better candidate for “the very structure of Christian life” would be just the Christian faith, in its entirety (belief, morality, prayer, sacraments, form of worship), as handed down through the apostles. (Of course ‘the cross,’ while not becoming the very structure, has an important place within this structure.)]