Christian Moralism and The Presidency of Donald Trump

“21 “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. 22 On that day many will say to me, ‘Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name?’ 23 And then will I declare to them, ‘I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness.’

Matthew 7:21-23

One of the most subtle and, therefore, most dangerous temptations in the Christian life is to judge for oneself who God has chosen to be a vehicle for His truth, His goodness, or His purposes. More egregious is to judge who God has chosen not just as a vehicle for His truth or goodness, but who God has chosen to be one of His own. For the two are not always the same. Various scriptures, known to all, present us with a paradox that does not allow for an easy answer to these questions. For example, in Matthew 7:21-23, Jesus announces with great force that there are many who we think are God’s servants in this life based either on their good works, or their religiosity, but who God knows are not true servants, and, being false believers, will consequently be cast from His eternal presence. Further along in Matthew’s gospel we find the parable of the weeds, where Jesus explains to His disciples that only at the end of days will it be revealed who was of God, and who of the evil one (see Matt 13:24-30). In this parable the implication is clear, neither the disciples, nor by extension their successors, are in a position to know who is a true follower of Christ, and who is not. That knowledge is reserved for the divine Mind only. It may very well turn out we find ourselves quite surprised (pleasantly I imagine) about who we bump into in the Almighty’s new creation.

However, on the other side of this attempt to discern spiritual good from evil, Christ does tell us there are some things we can know about people and their relationship to God. In Mark 9:38-41 Jesus tells the disciples that anyone who is not against Jesus is for Him, and that anyone who does mighty works in His name cannot afterward “speak evil of [Him].” So people who are not against Him, but maybe are not yet fully on board with Him, could yet be His in some way (a few very thoughtful atheist who often defend Christianity come to my mind rather quickly).

Also, in a passage highly favored by Christians skeptical of our current president, Jesus tells us straightforwardly that a tree is known by its fruit, Matthew 7:15-20. Passages like these appear to give us some criteria by which we can judge the moral and spiritual character of others. If people cast out demons in Jesus name, then maybe they are or soon will come to be His. If there is the fruit of good works in the life of a professed believer, then maybe they are also truly His. If the moral character of someone seems rotten however, then maybe we can rightly criticize them, or at least distance ourselves from these bad apples, even if we can not with certainty know the final status of their salvation.

However, that this task of spiritual discernment will be an easy one is never said to be the case. After all, what is “good” fruit and what is “bad” fruit may not always be clear to us. And, as is often the case, our own sin will inevitably prevent us from discerning correctly this moral and spiritual fruit of which Jesus speaks. This is why Jesus also gives us another command, one often taken too literally by the Christian antinomian: “Judge not, lest you be judged yourself.” So, the hard question of “can we know who belongs to Jesus?” is only partially answered for us. Ultimately we cannot know, but in the meantime we seem to be called to try and discern the best we can, and that based on the fruit of someone’s actions, which will potentially show their moral character, and maybe give us a glimpse of their spiritual estate, something not unimportant, since it also would function as an indicator to who is safe and trustworthy, and who is not.

Unfortunately, as we will see below, ultimate safety and trust can only be found in Christ alone.

Spiritual & Moral Judgment in Our Popular Culture

Today it is fashionable to judge people based solely on their public persona. Well, perhaps this has always been the case, but today it is easier to know a persona as opposed to an actual person. These personas we encounter through the various and manifold filters of social media. Very few of us have in fact any personal connection to the people whose moral and spiritual status we claim to know, and in knowing, claim to be able to properly judge. We receive minuscule amounts of data about all kinds of people: athletes, movie stars, epidemiologists, scholars, and yes, presidents who we claim to know. Further, we are quick to ascertain not just their beliefs about God, but also their moral and spiritual standing before Him. We fool ourselves in thinking we know them, perhaps even know them better than they themselves, or their close companions, or their family.

With regard to spiritual discernment, while in some cases it is clear that a person simply is not a believer in Jesus (or not yet), and therefore needs to receive the Gospel, in other cases it remains somewhat obscure. These cases, which would apply to men and women who profess Christ publicly and perhaps even lead some part of His Church, demand, therefore, that much more discernment, that much more prayer, and that much more careful and reflective thought before an adjudication is made about whether or not to trust them. However, in the era of the internet, to actually take the time for this kind of discernment has become an increasingly rare practice (myself included!). We move quickly in our judgments of others spiritual estate, before hardly enough evidence has been collected or prayers offered. As such, we have devolved into a church of satan, here understanding satan as what his Hebrew name actually means, the accuser. We are a church of spiritual accusers.

But then there is also the broader cultural problem of moral discernment. This, on the one hand is categorically easier than spiritual discernment, since it relates only to the moral fruit of a person’s life, and has nothing necessarily to do with one’s spiritual status before God. However, confusion can arise when Christians, who are interested in both the spiritual and the moral, begin to conflate the two, expecting that for any given Christian, there you will find a very moral person. A common error to all of us, and one rooted in a deep theological enigma: the fact of salvation vs. the reality of sanctification. However, it is not just that Christians can have expectations too high when it comes to the process of moral cleansing and perfection in this life. Rather, it is also the case that we have seen too many examples of Christians who on the outside have appeared to be quite moral indeed, only later to be revealed as something entirely different. It is in this sense that Christians must exercise caution and wisdom when trying to discern “fruit.” For moral rottenness does not necessarily translate into spiritual rottenness, as moral excellence, or the appearance of it, does not necessarily translate into spiritual purity.

Who God Chooses is Not Who You or I Would Choose

It simply is not the case that every good person will look or act like a Mother Theresa. This would be simplistic and reductionist discernment. It would also be foolish and naive. In the end there will be many who display all forms of moral failure, yet whose heart and will is more aligned with God’s heart and will than those whose outward personality seems pure and untainted. For every Mother Theresa there may be an Oskar Schindler, just as for every Mary there is a David, or a Samson.

Appearances, and even good works of a tremendous kind and variety, simply will not be sufficient for us to know with any certainty the true heart of another human being. This tragic reality became very real for many followers of the late Catholic missionary, Jean Vanier, whose life looked about as close to that of Mother Theresa, or John Paul II, or Jesus, as one could imagine. Yet this founder of L’arche, a ministry dedicated to the most vulnerable among us, was simply not what he seemed to be. Now many have had to backtrack and distance themselves from someone whose inner life was deeply disturbing and whose covert actions may have been more damaging to the witness of the Gospel than even all of his good works combined. While it is difficult to come to a final conclusion about such things, what is not difficult is to know that the entire legacy of Vanier and his ministry is now tainted, and that with a very dark tint indeed.

This lesson should hopefully act as a catalyst therefore to those who are perhaps too eager to criticize the outward character that is Donald Trump. A man who we know has been a great womanizer, a foul-mouthed and lavish philanderer, a crude jokester, and, although evidence is quite scant, even potentially a racial bigot. This is not to say that one cannot reasonably distance himself from such a person, and certainly it is not to say that one cannot criticize what is rightly worthy of critique. But, it is to say that one should tread very lightly, especially as a follower of Christ, about judging too precisely who God might decide to select to be His vehicle for truth, or His providence. We must beware of acting the Christian moralist, like those many Pharisees whose superiority was known only to themselves but not to the Lord of Glory, who is also the Lord of Mercy, and the God of Redemption. In the end God will choose Who He chooses, and it is not always the most palatable character to our sensibilities. In fact, it is often those who are most difficult to accept that God will have act on His behalf. The converse of course is to be careful of those whose character does seem quite palatable to us, but who God does not know.

Our New Redemption: Critical Theory as Theology Without “Theos”

There is one, almost singular, theological and philosophical problem that has haunted Western civilization since the rise of modern skepticism in the mid-17th century, i.e. since Descarte. It is a theoretical problem that has launched a thousand ships of philosophical speculation, all floundering on the open seas of human inquiry, and subject to the acidity of the rational mind reasoning about itself.1 Kristen Irwin expounds on the view of the early, modern philosopher Pierre Bayle, who questioned the reliability of reason, “The sense in which Bayle is a skeptic is not entirely straightforward, but what is clear is that Bayle exhibits a profound suspicion of reason’s ability to deliver certain knowledge. In Bayle’s view, reason seems to be useful in enabling us to draw conclusions about the world, but it runs into so many contradictions and yields so many paradoxes that it ultimately undermines itself, and thus cannot be trusted. Thus, Bayle’s skepticism is, minimally, skepticism about the reliability of reason.” in https://iep.utm.edu/bayle/#:~:text=The%20sense%20in%20which%20Bayle%20is%20a%20skeptic,ultimately%20undermines%20itself%2C%20and%20thus%20cannot%20be%20trusted. But, it is a theoretical problem that plays out in the everyday life of every man, woman and child; a theoretical problem that cannot be easily ignored (as Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems perhaps can be). That problem is how to think, speak, and act morally apart from any metaphysical grounds for moral values or moral duties. This problem, at first considered soluble if baptized in the waters of pure reason, a reason unadulterated by claims of divine revelation and church authority, quickly became an unassailable fortress against which no weapon formed by human heads seemed able to prevail. The Enlightenment, many now claim, failed to illuminate the issue of human morality, making it only more obscure to us than it was under the transcendent light of its predecessor, the Queen of the Sciences: Theology.

The existential void the Enlightenment left behind in western culture, in virtue of seeking after a universally applicable moral system grounded in reason alone, provided the seedbed for the emergence of a new kind of philosophy: Critical Theory. Early Critical Theory2 I am thinking here of Marx and The Frankfurt School in particular, along with all of its subsequent, social scientific subsets, e.g. Critical Race Theory, Gender Studies, etc., sought, and still seeks, to construct morality apart from anything ontological other than the human subject herself, and apart from any phenomena other than that of human experience. Critical theory as such is a purely empirical theory, but one where the human reasoner is himself part of the empirical data subject to social and historical analysis.

Where the enlightened modernists failed to successfully replace religious morality with Reason (capital “R”), the post-modern critical theorist now took up the mantel of moral progress. This new, critical philosophy consisted of Marx and his successors on the one hand, e.g. the cultural Marxists: Gramsci, Adorno, Marcuse, et al., and Nietzsche on the other (few have been willing to embrace Nietzsche as an ethicist worth emulating, but perhaps someone like Ayn Rand might fit the bill). Abandoning the first principles of metaphysics, and the classical theories of knowledge, the question of ethics was now placed squarely in the realm of the human will by both parties; either with the emphasis on its communal (Marx), or its individual (Nietzsche) forms.

However, while the moral axiom: “How now shall we live?” remains the question that motivates us all, at least as a culture, if not as individuals, the answer remains an elusive target. Further, it is a question that motivates us even apart from, and independent of, any religious commitments. For we cannot help but live in a society of peers, and we cannot help but have moral intuitions about our relations to each other, and to the environment in which we live, and move, and have our being. And, even if one were banished and isolated to the proverbial deserted island, moral questions about how to treat oneself would still be with us even there.

“How now shall we live?” seems, therefore, to be a question that cannot be answered with any kind of unifying consensus if there is no agreement about our religious commitments, and even if there is agreement in our total rejection of any religious commitments whatsoever. With our without acknowledgment of God, we seem lost to a never-ending series of speculation about what is “the good” and what is “the good life.” To have unity on moral values and duties we would seem to require a real, extant, and clear moral principle, or Person, to either guide us into the Good, or tell us about it, or even model it for us.

Otherwise, what do we really have to say about morality?

Critical Theory as The New Theology

In his chapter, “To Seek to Salvage an Unconditional Meaning Without God is a Futile Undertaking: Reflections on a Remark of Max Horkheimer” the prodigious, second-wave philosopher of Critical Theory Jürgen Habermas says this about a comment made by his predecessor and founder of the Frankfurt School of Social Research, Max Horkheimer:

“Horkheimer’s interest in the doctrines of Judaism and Christianity was spurred less by a concern with God as such than with the redemptive power of God’s will. The injustice that comes to pass in a suffering creature should not be permitted to have the last word. At times it seems as if Horkheimer wanted to put the religious promise of redemption directly at the service of morality.”3 in Religion and Rationality: Essays on Reason, God, and Modernity, 95

This passage, upon first reading, may seem obscure. However, once understood it can be shown that the idea contained herein, this notion of trying to realize the “redemptive power of God’s will” apart from any interest in God “as such,” is what lies at the heart of much, if not all, of the social justice movements that engulf and inflame our society today. It is the sentiment at the center of organizations like Black Lives Matter, and the fulcrum of initiatives that seek justice and the healing of division, yet attempt to do so without resort to a Divine Nature that grounds the apparently divine will found in traditional, religious texts. This, as we shall see, leads to a dangerous conflation: the confusion of the will of God with that of man; or the elevation of man to God rather than the descent of God to man.

First, however, what is Habermas saying about Horkheimer’s interest in “the doctrines of Judaism and Christianity?” Clearly, the critical philosopher, meaning Horkheimer, is presupposing “the death of God” as pronounced by Nietzsche, and assumed by Marx, as the inevitable consequence of the Enlightenment project of rationalization about religious belief. Thus, for all critical theorists, like Horkheimer or Habermas after him, that God is dead, meaning He never existed, is the starting point for any social theorizing, and any attempt to answer our question “How now shall we live?” Atheism is true, and we must simply get on with it.

Second, however, is the realization that we cannot seem to simply “get on with it!” The idea that the injustice that accompanies the suffering of sentient creatures, i.e. ourselves, animals, can be treated in a sterile, scientistic manner as mere “natural fact,” is simply unpalatable to the socially conscious, existentially sensitive human agent. How can we look at the long history of human and animal suffering, in all it horror, and say “well, that is just what molecules in motion do, and there is nothing more to say.” Certainly, there must be not only more to say, but also more to do! There must be a morality that gives us some meaningful context for that suffering, and that spurs us to some kind of ethical action. Stoic resignation is not an option for the critical theorist who seeks liberation from the oppression of such a woeful existence. In this sense, moral action becomes imperative for the critical theorist. For all critical theories, liberation from existential oppression is the focal point of all human thought and action.4 James Bohman writes in the Standford Encyclopedia of Philosohpy entry on Critical Theory, “In both the broad and the narrow senses, however, a critical theory provides the descriptive and normative bases for social inquiry aimed at decreasing domination and increasing freedom in all their forms.

However, as we have alluded to above, morality according to the post-modern critical theorists cannot really be considered an object of the intellect, i.e. as something capable of being grasped or discovered by the natural light of reason. After all, if God is dead, then there is no ultimate truth about morality to grasp, nor universal standard to be discovered. No abstract reasoning about abstract “truths,” no further scientific investigations of natural processes, and no theological commentary about supposed special revelations from above, e.g. the Bible, will give us any real moral content. For, where there is no moral law Giver, there really is no moral law.

In light of this “reality,” the novel proposal to the problem of dealing with moral sensibilities about perceived injustices, arises out of being pressed in between a modern rock, which says there are only natural facts about the world, no moral ones, and a post-modern hard place, which cries out that we need morality to live and to thrive as sentient and feeling creatures. The proposal of Horkheimer then, and several others, was to assume the moral content of Christianity, and his native Judaism, as descriptively true, yet without assuming its God as real. Horkheimer does not consider the moral content to be true in the sense of referring to an ultimate, non-physical reality (which would make it an object of the intellect to be grasped), rather he asserts it, morality, as being useful to us for the sake of functioning well (imposing function being an object of the will).

Third, then, is assuming the particular Judeo-Christian content of morality, in spite of rejecting the metaphysics of biblical and theological claims. What then for Horkheimer (the ethnic Jew) is central to biblical morality?— it is the “religious promise of redemption.” Redemption, even a redemption without a Redeemer, is still the only hope for modern man to get on with modern life. Habermas details this aspect of Horkheimer’s thinking,

“Once the rationality of the remorse experienced by a religiously tutored conscience is rejected by a secularizing world, its place is taken by the moral sentiment of compassion. When Horkheimer expressly defines the good tautologically as the attempt to abolish evil, he has in view a solidarity with the suffering of vulnerable and forsaken creatures provoked by outrage against concrete injustices.” (Habermas, 96)

In other words: even when we realize that religion is metaphysically false (and feel remorse because of it), we nevertheless recognize that our moral intuitions have been “tutored” by thousands of years of religious practice. And, even more, we still sense that those religious sentiments (even if they be only that, sentiments) are somehow correct, and worth defending. So, we feel compassionate in spite of the stark reality of a brute, naturalistic universe, a universe that is indifferent to us, and therefore are still moved to fight “evil” when we “see” it in the form of concrete injustices (knowing full well that there is no such thing as justice against which we can actually measure our feelings about the perceived injustice). Our outrage is stoked when we perceive these apparent imbalances in society, and our compassion demands we respond accordingly. Habermas goes on to tell us more about Horkheimer’s plundering of this particularly Christian moral content:

“The reconciling power of compassion does not stand in opposition to the galvanizing power of rebellion against a world devoid of atonement and reparation for injustice. Solidarity and justice are two sides of the same coin; hence, the ethics of compassion does not dispute the legitimacy of the morality of justice but merely frees it form the rigidity of the ethics of conscience.” (Habermas, 96)

But, now we come to the heart of the moral matter, if indeed God is not that heart. Having jettisoned religious belief as true but still finding that we have a conscience that has been trained in and molded by religious content, in particular that of Judeo-Christianity and the Bible, we are now told by the critical theorist that in a world where there is no “real” atonement and reparation for injustice, because there is no real God to do the atoning and repairing, our own “reconciling power of compassion” must be the vehicle by which “concrete injustices” are rectified. After all, if we are not going to be the ones to do the redeeming, then the redemption will not, cannot, come. Moreover, this immanent, and human-centered power of compassion, is not opposed to the “galvanizing power of rebellion,” but rather embraces it.5 one might think here of Saul Alinsky’s dedication in his classic work Rules for Radicals, where the author commends Lucifer for his rebellion, a rebellion that won him his own kingdom. In other words, if there is no God to atone for us, yet atonement is still necessary for us to live morally and to have an “unconditional” meaning that contextualizes our suffering, then in a world where there are concrete instances of things we perceive as unjust, and that “must” be made right for us to experience atonement, rebellion becomes a morally acceptable vehicle of redemption.

Compassion and rebellion are the new moral dynamo generating the new, moral society. This begins to look very familiar to what we see currently on our television screens and YouTube videos, where cries for justice and compassion are inevitably accompanied by acts of rebellion and revolutionary fervor. This is the politicizing of religiosity, the messianism of our times.6 Few journalist have done a better job of identifying and explaining the new religion of Social Justice than Andrew Sullivan, see here https://andrewsullivan.substack.com/p/the-roots-of-wokeness


But here is where those who identify themselves with “Christ” face the stark choice: We must decide whether the critical theorist is right in saying that religious belief itself is a mere product of man’s own making, and that its truth claims (like all others) are historically situated and thus unfixed from anything transhistorical, transfinite, or culturally transcendent. For if this is the case, then the redemption we need may tell us something about ourselves, our current “society,” but tells us nothing about anything beyond ourselves, or this latest version of ourselves. If Horkheimer is right, then Critical [social] theory is the new theology, in that it calls us to a form of moral life, even one replete with corporate atonement and communal redemption; however, it is a theology without a theos, or, at least, without a divine theos. It is religion “from below,” an earth without a heaven:

[Social theory] has superseded theology but has no new heaven to which it can point, not even a mundane one. Of course, social theory cannot completely efface [heaven’s] traces and hence is repeatedly questioned about how it is to be attained–as though it were not precisely the discovery of social [critical] theory that the heaven to which one can point the way is no heaven.” (Habermas, 98)

For in a world that is itself the sum of all reality, the new religion of social theory, with its hope for an immanent, social justice, the new heaven just is that culture which will result (perhaps for us, most likely for our children or grandchildren) if we were only to act now! What that new culture will be like, of course, is not something we can really say much about. You have to arrive in the “undiscovered country” before you can know what it will be like.

Alternatively to this New Theology, we can choose to believe that there is a something beyond ourselves, even a Someone, whose eternal life and transcendent nature is reflected in that which He has created. Further we can come to believe that our need for redemption tells us as much about the eternal Creator as it does of His temporal creatures. Instead of listening to the words of the critical theorist, we listen instead to the words of the critical realist, who says:

“The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of people, who suppress the truth by their wickedness, since what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.” (Romans 1:18-20)

Either those things that are called moral evils are, as the critical theorist says, the product of human construction, and, consequently, the redemption that they demand also the product of human construction; or, they are, as the Apostle Paul says, the product of human rebellion against ultimate reality, and, consequently, redeemable only through the reconstructive action of the author of that reality. In ontological terms, redemption is either a bottom-up struggle performed by purely accidental creatures, and which has included in it the creation of culturally relative theological concepts and religious practices that aid us in our survival; or it is a top-down event, one enacted by a necessary Creator who has given us reason that allows us to form ideas, concepts, and language to describe that which is ultimately and actually real.

Whichever we decide will make a world of difference in what happens “down here” and in our daily lives. For on the former view the only authority against which we rise up is that of men and women just like ourselves, yet who merely constructed morality in a different fashion than we do today, a dynamic which implies an endless process of doing the same deconstruction and reconstruction with every generation of human society. On the latter view, however, the authority we are rebelling against is not like us, because He is not us, and we are not Him. Moreover, in virtue of not being like us, He (or It) may have an actual answer to our moral problem, so long as we can have access to Him (or It). And, if we have access to Him, we may be able to change who we are, and if we can be changed, then so can our moral behavior. And, if our moral behavior can change, so to the society in which we live.

Conflating the Divine Will With Human Will: Black Lives Matter And the Doctrine of “Heal Thyself”

In paragraph four of their statement about “What We Believe,” the most powerful and dominant social justice movement of our time: Black Lives Matter, claims the following: “Every day, we recommit to healing ourselves and each other, and to co-creating alongside comrades, allies, and family a culture where each person feels seen, heard, and supported.”7 (https://blacklivesmatter.com/what-we-believe/) This doctrine of “self-healing” or “heal thyself” is fundamentally related to the above exposition of the early critical theorist, Max Horkheimer’s, notion of a theology without God. Upon further reading of the Black Lives Matter doctrinal statement, one will quickly discern that the moral and religious impulse is still there: human dignity is presupposed, redemption is what matters, and liberation is the key. The only problem is that we are the only agents of atonement (and, oh is there a process for how to atone!), as well as the only standard by which we name what is good “good”, and distinguish it from what is “evil.” Again, the determining factor of moral judgments no longer being the intellect seeking knowledge, but the will exercising power. Human power becomes the sole vehicle for societal change, because the human will is the sole determiner of moral “truth.”

In his short work Marxism and Christianity, former Marxist now Roman Catholic philosopher, Alasdair MacIntyre says this about the role of religion in the life of the individual agent:

“But religion is only able to have this latter transforming function because and insofar as it enables individuals to identify and to understand themselves independently of their position in the existing social structure. It is in the contrast between what society tells a man he is and what religion tells him he is that he is able to find grounds both for criticizing the status quo and for believing that it is possible for him to act with others in changing it.”

MacIntyre. Marxism and Christianity. Apple Books, 13.

MacIntyre wrote this in 1968, many years before his conversion to Catholicism. This is why the astute observer will take note of MacIntyre’s fundamental metaphysical flaw when he says “it is in the contrast between what society tells a man he is and what religion tells him he is.” At that time, MacIntyre, like so many social justice theorists and social justice activists of today, confused the dictates of religion with the reality of God. Still a metaphysical naturalist, religion for MacIntrye was, as it remained for Horkheimer, merely a set of descriptive, yet non-referring claims—a set of sociological constructs, not universal moral truths revealed by a divine will. At some point for MacIntyre that understanding of religion ended, and his attention, unlike Horkheimer, turned to God “as such.”

To turn to God “as such” is to recognize the reality of the Divine Nature, and come to understand the words of the Bible and the content of the Christian faith no longer as just highly compelling products of human sentiment, but as divinely revealed fixtures of an intricately designed cosmos. A cosmos replete with essences and natural kinds, with ontological realities that can be examined by reason, be experienced with the affections, and by which we can gauge our moral attitudes, harness the best of our moral intuitions, and help guide our moral actions.

To not see this objective, mind-independent, fabric of the universe; a fabric not woven by human brains, but by a divine Mind, is ultimately to conflate God’s will with our own. For to look at the Bible and think of it as merely a human book, as Horkheimer did, even if a book worthy of plundering for the cause of moral action and the execution of justice, is to conflate the human will with the divine. It is to grant divinity to ourselves, and to elevate our own goodness as we conveniently ignore all the evil that we have done, and will continue to do. It is to try and do Christianity without Christ. It is to “heal ourselves.”

For many Social Justice theorists and activists today, society is all there is, and it does “tell a man what he is,” or perhaps “what it is.” For them to change society is for them to change man. But for the Christian this is not so, nor is it, as the younger MacIntyre erroneously claimed, religion that tells a man what he is. It is God who tells us who we are, and that divine speech act of identity, that communication from above, can be found both in the careful observation of His creation, and in the direct revelation of His Word.

That is the Old Theology. Theology with theos.

Moral Decision Making and the Fear of the Lord

In his book, Ethics in the Conflicts of Modernity, Roman Catholic philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre says this about making moral decisions, “Participants in deliberation [about means to attaining goods] must make their decision because of how their practical reasoning went and not from fear or as a result of fraud or because they were bribed or seduced.”1MacIntyre, Ethics in the Conflicts of Modernity, Apple Books, 230. MacIntyre’s point here is that the morally responsible human being, when seeking to pursue an individual or common good, must make their moral decisions not based on fear, or fraud (deception), or because they “sold out,” or because they fell into temptation to pursue a merely perceived good. Rather, any decision to pursue any good (e.g. a marital relationship, children, an occupation, a skill), or make any moral decision (disciplining a child as opposed to letting her off the hook), must be born out of a careful application of prudential thinking. Prudence, of course, being the classical virtue which, according to Karen Swallow Prior, “measures the other virtues and determines ‘what makes an action good.’”2 Karen Swallow Prior, On Reading Well, 34-35.

Biblically speaking, prudence is what the Jewish or Christian man or woman might call proverbial wisdom— that wisdom about human affairs which we find in those books often referred to as “the Wisdom literature”: Proverbs, Psalms, Job, Ecclesiastes, and, yes, even Song of Songs. This special revelation of Scripture affirms the use of practical reasoning in the process of making good, moral decisions. While the Holy Spirit can directly transmit knowledge to us regarding particular moral decisions or judgments, most of the time God allows us to learn to make good decisions through a process of indirect, spiritual formation— meaning that He is not telling us at every moment, in entirely certain terms, everything we should do and how to do it. Instead he is allowing us, like Jesus in His human nature, to grow in wisdom and stature (Lk 2:52). Growing requires learning however, and learning requires us to make mistakes. Learning from our mistakes helps us become more prudent thinkers.

However, this kind of practical or prudential reasoning, according to the Bible, also has a fundamental starting point, one we dare not neglect. That starting point is this: “the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom” (Prov. 9:10). Thus, the act of rational thinking about what concrete goods to pursue in life, how to evaluate the process of attaining those goods, and why they should even be considered “good,” are all things that must be informed first and foremost by our understanding of, and relationship to, God. For any moral decision that is made apart from the “fear of the Lord” will indelibly contain an error. To not begin our practical decision making about a moral action with this fear of God is to inevitably wind up “missing the mark,” which is, in some real sense, just what sin is—morally irresponsible actions.

In this same passage, MacIntyre also alludes to four common, initial conditions from which we often do start our practical decision making; four conditions that are antithetical to the biblical starting point of “fear of the Lord.” They are: fear (human fear), fraud, bribery and seduction. If we do not start our moral deliberations with a consideration of the nature and will of God, then it is likely we will start from one of these four places. However, if we start from one of these places, our decisions will probably result in more human damage, even if that damage may be mitigated by other factors (e.g. the seriousness of the action taken, the simple grace of God, or maybe even the grace of an offended party). Nevertheless, it is worth considering each of these false starting points in order to train ourselves to think more prudentially, and more theologically, before taking any particular, moral action.

Acting From Fear

Possibly the most damaging starting point for any moral decision, especially a decision made by someone who claims faith in Christ, is that of fear. Fear is not a neutral starting point, even if a natural one. Biblically speaking fear is starting from a place of doubt, which is equivalent to a place of unfaithfulness. Doubt too may be natural to us, but for the Christian man or woman it entails a questioning of God’s Providence or of His Power (or possibly His existence). This is not to say that one, even the most mature and stalwart among us, will not have fears or experience doubt. After all, one cannot be rightly called “courageous” if there are no instances of fear to overcome. It is however to say that those fears cannot be what ultimately determines our moral decisions, and certainly it is to say that we should not start our process of decision making from a place of fearfulness, even if it is sometimes difficult not to start there.

There will be all kinds of practical concerns one has to weigh in life, many of them frightening to us: fears about death or injury, fears about loss of relationship, fears about loss of financial stability, etc. However, the final decision we make about a moral action cannot be based on the fear itself. One should not say simplistically then: “I am not going to do action X, because I am afraid I will die,” for example. For it very well could be the case that the moral action under consideration may warrant the risk to one’s physical existence, or, in special cases, the risk to the physical safety of another (that would be to say simplistically, “I am not going to do action X, because it may cause him or her to die.”).

For an example of the former think of a mother who is hemorrhaging during labor. She refrains from receiving medical treatment that might be necessary for her survival because it puts the life of her baby at risk. She may be afraid to die, but at the same time know that that fear cannot be what determines her decision about receiving the medical aid she needs. Hopefully, long prior to the labor and delivery, she has already contemplated deeply the intrinsic value of human life, and come to understand that if her starting point is “the fear of the Lord,” she may indeed be called to sacrifice her own life for the sake of another at some point. She may have come to understand, at the deepest level of her spiritual formation, that “greater love has no one than this: to lay down his [or her] life for his [or her] friends” is not simply a sentiment to be parroted on Sunday mornings, but an actual way of existing; an expression of ultimate reality, a divine command of God. If the mother’s prior starting point in her moral decision making, even before becoming pregnant, was “the fear of the Lord” then her action in the middle of trauma, i.e. her sacrificing medical treatment for the sake of the child, is one not born out of human fear, but one born out of moral goodness and Christ-like faithfulness. It becomes therefore an act of unconditional love, which is itself the greatest of the theological virtues (1 Cor 13:13).

For an example of the latter, however, now think of the mother who has natural fears for her older child. The mother fears intuitively for the safety of the child, and is often hovering to ensure that the child is not in any kind of immediate danger, danger either to their physical, or emotional, well-being. She stays close while the child does monkey bars on the playground; she teaches the child to look both ways, several times, before crossing the road; she makes sure the child always has their safety helmet on, perhaps even when on his tricycle. These are all fears that are in many ways justified. However, if the mother’s care for the child, and the daily moral decisions that go into that care, have as their starting point mere human fear, and not fear of the Lord, then the following kinds of sins can begin to emerge: the hovering over the child like a mother hen slowly transforms into a controlling act, one more suited to a Communist dictator than a caring mother. The child is stifled in their personal development, both in their physical development– never being allowed to challenge themselves by climbing the big tree at the park, the child’s muscles stay soft; and in their emotional and moral development– never being permitted to date, the child fails to grasp relational complexity and remains emotionally naive.

Even intellectual development can be stifled out of fear when challenges to the truth of the Christian worldview are barred entry into the life of the Christian family. This phenomena has been well documented recently: adults who have been Christians their entire life, even leaders in the Church, yet been kept in intellectual ignorance. The result is finding themselves intellectually shook to the core when first presented with even the mildest critiques of biblical truth or the Christian worldview. This has been a disturbing trend among so-called “celebrity Christians.

Further, and deeper still, is the hindering of spiritual development. If the now controlling mother, who operates out of human fear, keeps the child in a therapeutically sealed, existential bubble, then how, if not through real trials and struggles, can the child learn to become reliant on the Lord— on His goodness, His providence, and His strength? What, after all, would it have looked like if Rachel had prevented Jacob from allowing Joseph to go out and tend the sheep with his brothers? Joseph may have been spared much personal pain and sorrow, but at what cost to himself, his family, the nation of Egypt, and the people and plan of God? It seems incalculable.

In sum, life is full of problems, many of which cannot be avoided. As Christian psychiatrist M. Scott Peck once pointed out, it is the fear of problems, and the emotional pain they might cause, that preclude people from not only from becoming wise, but that facilitates mental illness:

“It is through the pain of confronting and resolving problems that we learn….It is for this reason that wise people learn not to dread but actually to welcome problems and actually to welcome the pain of problems. [However] Most of us are not wise. Fearing the pain involved, almost all of us, to a greater or lesser degree, attempt to avoid problems….This tendency to avoid problems and the emotional suffering inherent in them is the primary basis of all human mental illness.”

M. Scott Peck, The Road Less Traveled, 16-17.

Acting from Fraud

Fraud is deceit. To act from fraud may not be as egregious as acting from fear, because it assumes a more passive role by the moral decision maker. They are not acting intentionally out of a place of deception, rather they have been deceived and therefore are basing their moral decisions on false premises. However, while persons acting from fraud as their starting point for a moral decision may be somewhat less liable for their actions, this is not to say they are entirely without responsibility. After all, we have the prior, moral responsibility to do what we can to ensure we are not taken hold of by false beliefs, or given over to bad information. We are called to be watchful, careful, and discerning. Jesus said “Behold I am sending out as sheep among wolves, so be wise as serpents and gentle as doves” (Matt 10:16), knowing full well what kind of sin-fallen world He was sending His apostles into, and the kind of resistance that would meet the bearer of “Good News.”

Thus, it becomes incumbent on the Christian, especially in a day and age where dis- and misinformation abound, to be diligent in their collection of data, in their interpretation of that data, and in their decision making based off of relevant information. This information could be testimony about any kind of cultural issue: political, economic, educational, and yes, even scientific. Therefore, the Christian must avoid simplistic or reductionist thinking that simply grants authority to any “talking head” on TV, radio, or the internet, regardless of that person’s popularity, or the popular narrative that has been spun around them. It also means that as Christians we must have a healthy, but not exaggerated, skepticism about so-called “experts.” We must understand that human reason is flawed and that there is no such thing as “the science” that tells us anything, rather, there are “scientists” who interpret data and then tell us some things.

The Devil’s Role in Fraud

Behind any of these false starting points it is also worth realizing that there are other forces at work than simply our own sinful nature; there are spiritual forces seeking to deceive and destroy us through that deception. Yes, Virginia, there is a Devil!, and he is no simple metaphor, he is metaphysical. He is also said to be “like a roaring lion” looking to devour believers. Jesus makes it crystal clear that the Devil is a murderer, and has been from the beginning. But, how can a conscious, yet immaterial entity murder a physical being like us? The answer since Genesis 3 has always been the same: through deceit, “He [Satan] was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he lies he speaks out of his own character, for he is a liar and the father of lies.” (John 8:44). Since the Devil only in very rare occasions touches our physical nature (our bodies), his main weapon of choice is the lie, and lies come through words, and words are grasped cognitively. The battlefield of the mind, where truth is either recognized or repressed, is where the Christian must take “every thought captive to Christ” lest we be led down a path of making moral choices destructive both to our own person, and to others. Adam and Eve’s originating sin may have included an aspect of creaturely pride, as Augustine pointed out, but that pride was awakened by Satan’s deception. As Jesus tells us in no uncertain terms, Satan is, in his very nature, fraudulent. He is the great fraud, and his lies know no boundaries.

The counter to Satan’s lies has always been, and will be until Christ’s return, the Word of God, delivered to us both in the Person and work of Christ and in the words of the Holy Scriptures. For it is the Word of God that is sharper than any two-edged sword and that cuts between bone and marrow, soul and spirit, and discerns the thoughts and intentions of human hearts. To avoid fraud as our moral starting point, this is where we must turn. For it is the Word of God that judges the truth of statements that may appear morally correct, statements like “love is love,” but which ultimately are false. After all, it is God who is love, not human love that is god (1 John 4:8).

Ultimately, however, the devil’s best strategy is to stay away from questions of truth or falsehood entirely, and to misguide the moral decision maker by making all claims relative to something other than reason (something like human emotion or experience). C.S. Lewis alludes to this in his magnum opus on spiritual warfare, The Screwtape Letters:

“The trouble about argument is that it moves the whole struggle on to the Enemy’s [God] own ground. He can argue too; whereas in really practical propaganda of the kind I am suggesting He [God] has been shown for centuries to be greatly the inferior of Our Father Below [Satan]. By the very act of arguing, you awake the patient’s [the Christian man] reason; and once it is awake, who can foresee the result? Even if a particular train of thought can be twisted so as to end in our favour, you will find that you have been strengthening in your patient the fatal habit of attending to universal issues and withdrawing his attention from the stream of immediate sense experiences.”

C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters, Letter 1

In our current social climate, human emotions or personal experience have become the default starting point for most of our moral decision making. This places many of our moral actions on very unstable and shifting ground, a ground that the devil loves to play on. It should be no surprise then when we see dedications to him in books like Alinsky’s Rules for Radicals, a manuscript very popular with many political and social elitists.

Acting from Personal Gain (Bribery)

You cannot love both God and mammon, or so it has been said by, well, by God. One of Jesus’ earliest followers was inspired to write it this way, “love of money is the root of all evil” (1 Tim 6:10). The historical record is replete with man’s greediness for material wealth and voracious appetite for monetary gain. Nations have literally risen and fallen over the decadence of their rulers, just as local communities have suffered from corruption in their county and state governments. Households fall apart as well, as the thirst for money and luxury drive families to extremes which enslave them to the act of ‘money making.’

It is not money itself, however, that is evil. Rather, it is the disordered love of wealth that, if taken as one’s moral starting point, will inevitably lead to all kinds of evils. This love of money corrupts all aspirations to moral goodness, regardless of whether it be couched in a religious context, e.g. the Papacy of the Borgias or the Prosperity Gospel of today, or in a secular one, e.g. political cronyism or marketplace corruption. Christians should have no fear of earning money, even a lot of money, so long as the desire for it is rightly ordered and that, in their moral deliberations, the making of it or the keeping of it, is not the primary concern or ultimate goal. Money in the hands of the wise man can produce all kinds of social and even spiritual goods, and wealth in the possession of the righteous steward can serve many of God’s purposes on earth.

The love of money in the church however is a special kind of atrocity. Throughout its history money has bankrupted many a congregation. In Luther’s day doctrine was abused for the sake of sending riches to Rome for the building of St. Peter’s. While God ultimately used this abuse of indulgences to motivate a young Luther to nail his reformational theses to the Wittenberg door, the damage to human souls was nevertheless real, and the manipulation of doctrine tragic to the life and reputation of God’s Church. In recent times what was once a covert sin of Protestant churches (the pastoral love for money), has been made shamelessly explicit as “prosperity” and “health and wealth” preaching of a false christ, a christ who enters into the world not to suffer and die for the sins of mankind, but who pays sinners’ debt so they might become materially rich, now permeates the culture.

While there are practical concerns about money, and while any good steward of the material wealth God affords us will take those into consideration, to start with money, or comfort, as the impetus for moral decision making is to start from a place of inherent sinfulness. Fear of the Lord and the love of money (or fear of not having money) are, as Jesus warned us, mutually incompatible orientations of the soul. If the latter takes precedent over the former, only evil can ensue.

Acting from Seduction

No good moral choices can start from the desire to satisfy our flesh, especially in the form of our sexual appetites. That is not to say that sexual appetites are the only kind of bodily seduction: food and other substances (drugs, alcohol) can often be as destructive to ourselves, our families, and our community as the unfettered drive to satisfy sexual longings. However, that sexual lust assumes a fundamental role in the striving of human beings has been rather obvious, even long before Freud. What Freud would later describe anthropologically, Paul had already explained theologically:

Therefore God gave them up in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, to the dishonoring of their bodies among themselves, because they exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever! Amen.

For this reason God gave them up to dishonorable passions. For their women exchanged natural relations for those that are contrary to nature; and the men likewise gave up natural relations with women and were consumed with passion for one another, men committing shameless acts with men and receiving in themselves the due penalty for their error.

Romans 1:24-27

Making choices motivated by the desire to satisfy sexual longings has never gone well for God’s people, as the stories of men like Judah and King David clearly attest. The scene of Absalom raping David’s concubines from the very spot where his father fell into lust for Bathsheeba (2 Sam 16:20-22), should also serve as a warning that the sexual sins of the father, like so many other sins, are often passed down to the sons (and perhaps even daughters). Pursuing sensual pleasure leads to decisions that not only harm the body and soul of the decision maker, but also those closest to him or her—their progeny. For the male of the species especially, to start the process of moral reasoning at the point of libidinal urges is a very dangerous proposal. Unfortunately, it is also one of the most common starting points. One could plausibly argue that many who seem to have money as their starting point for making moral decisions, actually have sexual pleasure as their starting point; money being merely the instrument by which they can attain more of the latter.

That said, if the starting point for a moral decision is grounded in the Fear of the Lord first, then subsequent desires to fulfill sexual longings could very well lead to one of life’s most profound gestures of moral goodness, namely, the mutual self-giving of sexual pleasure within a loving and exclusive marital relationship. The act of fulfilling sexual desire in the appropriate, God-ordained context of marriage is commended to us by Scripture, both for the sake of the pleasure it brings our bodies (see Song of Songs), and for the Christ-like self-giving that it occasions (Ephesians 5:25-28). The moment of “transcendence” that comes when two lovers unite in sexual experience is something that God has clearly designed for the sake of His glory and our good. To spend those moments with anyone other than an exclusive confidant, friend, and spouse is to do an injustice to that design, an injustice that can engender a radical kind of evil to occur. Again, Peck points out how powerful the role of sex is to the human person:

“In itself, making love is not an act of love. Nonetheless the experience of sexual intercourse, and particularly of orgasm…is an experience also associated with a greater or lesser degree of collapse of ego boundaries and attendant ecstasy. It is because of this collapse of ego boundaries that we may shout at the moment of climax “I love you” or “Oh, God” to a prostitute for whom moments later, after the ego boundaries have snapped back into place, the may feel no shred of affection, liking, or investment.”

Peck, 96.

To make seduction our starting point for moral decisions is to put ourselves in the position of using others for the sake of experiencing something which is deeply relational and spiritual: the act of sex. It is perhaps the most powerful drive we have in this life outside of the longing of our heart for God Himself. It is also the one that is most abused in the course of human events, and that quickly devolves into the most wicked and vile forms of human behavior: rape, incest, polygamy, abortion, and child abuse.

Conclusion: The Fear of the Lord is the Beginning of Wisdom

Our prudential thinking, i.e. our moral decision making process, mirrors the pursuit of wisdom as found especially in the Wisdom books of the Bible. If we begin our moral decision making anywhere other than with “the Fear of the Lord” then we are bound to neglect God’s design for us and consequently, to some degree, fall into immoral activity. Beginning our moral decision making from other initial conditions, conditions like fear, fraud, love of money, or sexual seduction, breaks fellowship with God, and ultimately causes great damage to our selves, our relations, and our communities. To be prudent and to act wisely, we must be grounded in the Word and the will of God.

Satan’s Strategy: Social Justice, Sin and The Devil

In Chapter 25 of The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis describes a subtle, yet vulnerable, human dynamic the devil longs to exploit in order to trap his patient (i.e. the Christian man) into sin, and by doing so to cause division— division between the man and God, as well as division between man and his neighbor:

The use of Fashions in thought is to distract the attention of men from their real dangers. We direct the fashionable outcry of each generation against those vices of which it is least in danger and fix its approval on the virtue nearest to that vice which we are trying to make endemic. The game is to have them all running about with fire extinguishers whenever there is a flood, and all crowding to that side of the boat which is already nearly gunwale under.1Excerpt From: C. S. Lewis. “The Screwtape Letters.” Apple Books. https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-screwtape-letters/id360640935

In every generation, so it goes, the devil attempts to draw men’s attention away from those sinful dispositions that are real threats to their current culture. Satan does this first by focusing the cultural mood against a real vice— a vice, however, which is either not significantly present in the culture, or minimally presents no imminent danger to it. At the same time the devil works to tempt the culture to embrace a virtue that is very near to that vice which really does pose an imminent danger. In other words, the “shadow side” of a particular virtue being actively embraced by a society or nation in a particular cultural moment is what the devil wants to make “endemic” to that culture.

In Screwtape, written during WWII, Lewis does not have Screwtape specify which virtue of the day is in view for wartime Britain, and subsequently which vice (although Lewis provides a sustained attack against “Unselfishness” as a form of spiritual pride). It doesn’t really matter though, so long as whatever virtue is in view at any given cultural moment can be ultimately twisted into a widespread, societal vice. A vice that succeeds in tearing the culture apart, moving it from a higher form of human existence to a lower one. Screwtape suggests, therefore, that when a culture is really going in one direction, say giving itself over to Emotionalism, then this becomes the occasion for repeated warnings about being too rationalistic. On the flip side, when a culture has succumbed to a cold rationalism, it will be the emotions that are stigmatized, as if they might throw the nation into chaos. Either way, the real danger is never addressed, and a nation is left attempting to stem floodwaters with fire extinguishers:

The game is to have them all running about with fire extinguishers whenever there is a flood, and all crowding to that side of the boat which is already nearly gunwale under. Thus we make it fashionable to expose the dangers of enthusiasm at the very moment when they are all really becoming worldly and lukewarm; a century later, when we are really making them all Byronic and drunk with emotion, the fashionable outcry is directed against the dangers of the mere ‘understanding’.2Excerpt From: C. S. Lewis. “The Screwtape Letters.” Apple Books. https://books.apple.com/us/book/the-screwtape-letters/id360640935

But, how might this dynamic be playing out today in light of our own societal upheaval? Was Lewis’ theory correct, and, if so, is the devil still up to his same, old tricks?

A Word on Virtue Theory

In classical virtue theory, which Lewis is clearly referencing in this chapter, there is always an extreme side to any virtue, as well as a deficit side. For example, the classical virtue of courage, or the habits and dispositions that engender it, taken to an extreme would transform courage into a vice—too much courage morphs into something like brazenness or lack of restraint. It becomes an attitude and a behavior marked by recklessness and audacity, not by true fortitude in the face of unwelcome danger. A soldier who constantly rushes off into battle out of pure lust, never reflecting to count the costs associated with the fight, is disposed quite differently from the one who counts the costs of war, recognizes the horror associated with those costs, yet still goes off to do his duty. The first is impetuous, the second is brave.

On the flip side, too little courage would be simple cowardice, or spinelessness. Cowardice is a deficiency of courage, just as wantonness its excess. The goal is to find the right balance, the middle ground that is the virtue itself.

Aristotle in his Nichomachean Ethics calls this the “golden mean,” suggesting there are vices that can appear virtuous, in that they shadow or mirror a particular virtue, but, in the end, they are neither righteous nor good, but unjust and cruel. The mean is always the goal for the man seeking to be good, and to be genuinely happy (eudaimonia). Further, this finding of the “mean” is itself a virtue— the virtue of prudence. For it is the prudential soul that carefully weighs, assesses, and evaluates all other moral virtues, taking into account the nature of those virtues, and the moral context in which they need to be realized. The one who exercises prudence, will exemplify the golden mean in his life.

Evaluating Today’s Cultural Virtue

Justice is one of the four cardinal virtues: Prudence, Temperance, Courage and Justice. Justice, according to Karen Swallow Prior (paraphrasing Aristotle) is “the morality of the community”.3 Karen Swallow Prior, On Reading Well. 70 For justice inherently has to do with the proper balancing and harmonization of social interactions. When well-adjusted souls operate in harmony together, there is justice in society. When malformed souls act discordantly toward one another, there is injustice in the community. Fairness is also a form of justice, one that alludes to the aesthetic quality that accompanies a right ordering of things. When things are rightly ordered there exists a symmetry, a beauty in the world that can be experienced, even sensibly. The image of a mother lovingly coddling her newborn is a classic image of a just relationship, one that has the right proportionality between the subjects involved. The image of a mother throwing her child into an alley dumpster does not. One is beautiful, the other grotesque. The justice or injustice of the act is what makes it appear either fair (aesthetically so), or ugly.

To say that the virtue being pursued in our current, American culture is Justice seems almost too easy and too obvious to state. But, sometimes things really do lie right before our eyes, or under our noses. For clearly if there is one virtue that is mentioned more often than any other in our culture today, it is not the virtues of Chastity or Temperance, but that of Justice. The fashionable outcry for social justice places the quest for the virtue Justice at the center of our cultural conversation. This point requires no further elucidation, as we are figuratively and literally inflamed, or “in flames,” over the need, want, and desire for Justice.

But, if Justice is the virtue that is in view, and if Lewis’ theory holds water, then what is the vice nearest to Justice that is the real threat to our nation? Where are we particularly vulnerable to the Devil’s plot to engender a particular vice, a sin, in society that will further lead us down the road of separation from God and each other?

The Shadow Side of Justice: Vengeance

While the Bible may warn mankind that “vengeance is [the Lords]” (Deut 32:35, 41; Isa 35:4) and that His day of vengeance is a sealed promise (Isa 34:8; Psalm 58:10), it is not always the case that human beings display the patience required to wait on divine rectification. As broken and sinful men work toward justice, the temptation for that pursuit to spill over into vengeance is always present, and vengeance just is justice in extremis. It is the excess that runs over.

Vengeance, furthermore, is at bottom fueled by anger, but an anger that rejects the reality of divine providence, and that seeks retribution on its own terms. It goes against the warning of the Apostle Paul to “be angry and do not sin.” Sinful anger, unrestrained by the Spirit of God in man, eventually degrades into bloodlust and violence of various forms and types. What starts out, for example, as a noble, gallic revolution against real human injustice (like gross economic disparity and starvation), turns into “The Terror,” an ecstatic frenzy of political violence— symbolized by the awful image of the guillotine and scores of disembodied heads. Dickens describes it this way:

The men were terrible, in the bloody-minded anger with which they looked from windows, caught up what arms they had, and came pouring down into the streets; but, the women were a sight to chill the boldest. From such household occupations as their bare poverty yielded, from their children, from their aged and their sick crouching on the bare ground famished and naked, they ran out with streaming hair, urging one another, and themselves, to madness with the wildest cries and actions.4 Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities, 206 quoted in Karen Swallow Prior, On Reading Well, 77.

As we begin to see more concrete examples of actual blood lust in our cultural pursuit of justice, we must pause and consider whether we have lost our way in the pursuit of the Good and the Beautiful. For if we are lost, and it seems like we are as blood lust targets even the innocent, then the Devil has achieved, or is achieving, his ultimate goal. As we see attacks on authority mount, and protests turn into para-military style operations, it cannot hurt to step back and recall those disembodied heads, or the millions of ‘cracked eggs” that went into making the Marxist-Leninist omelette.

However, the examples of physical violence in the name of social justice still seem fairly limited in intensity and scope, thank God. While we can extend acts of physical violence to include things like the tearing down of statues and damaging of property (for certainly they are that), there are still other kinds of violence that are not physical. Acts that, although not attacking the person bodily, nevertheless target her soul. These non-physical attacks are just as detrimental, sometimes more so, than the dull blows that land on heads, or hands, or feet. Thus, vengeance has many ways in which it can be carried out, and as such, so too has Satan many paths to carry out his plan of dividing and conquering the human man, and of robbing his cultural storehouse.

Forgotten Sins: Calumny and Detraction As Means of Vengeance

Calumny is an older word for what we might today call slander. At the heart of of any act of calumny is always a lie— a lie not meant to keep concealed a surprise birthday party, or to hide a family of Jews from a Nazi search party, but rather a lie told purely for the sake of ruining someone’s good name. Any lie told to destroy a reputation, usually the reputation of someone seen as a social rival, a political threat, or perhaps a former oppressor, is a calumnious one. To commit calumny is to sin against God and man (Exodus 20:16; 23:1 & 23:7), for to attack a man’s name is no less harmful to an image bearer of God than an attack on his body. The ruining of a life can occur just as effectively through a well-placed and infectious lie, as through a gunshot to the belly. In fact, a ruined name can endure long past the physical death of the one whose name was ruined, prolonging suffering for those family and friends left behind with a tainted legacy.

While we do see calumny on display in our culture, especially on our social media sites, and most egregiously in our political sphere and the major news media, there is yet another sin of vengeance even worse than calumny. For it is at least possible that a false accusation against a person can be publicly retracted, or shown to be false by a court of law, or otherwise undone in a forensic and visible manner. Much damage will already have occurred, but if a lie is exposed, there is at least hope that through much time and effort the falsely accused can restore their good name. Detraction, on the other hand, does not allow for this possibility. For unlike calumny, the sin of detraction does not involve a lie, it entails a truth.

Detraction is the intentional, yet unjustified exposure of another’s sins or moral failures for the sake of ruining that person’s good name. The detractor destroys his victim by exposing their “dark secret,” a secret, however, which is true. Because this sin inherently involves a truth, it is something that once committed is almost impossible to recover from. As one Catholic theologian put it, detraction is like throwing a bag of feathers into the wind— good luck trying to collect them back up again.

That is not to say that there are not warranted exposures of sinful acts or intentions. Detraction may not relate, for example, to the parish priest who upon hearing a confession of a serial rapist, goes off and tells the police about the confessor’s future intentions. While those special cases can still be tricky for the Catholic priest, a more common example of a warranted exposure of another person’s sins might be telling a trusted friend or pastor that one’s spouse is a heavy alcoholic who desperately is in need of intervention. Such examples are justified exposures of another’s moral failures.

However, there is a good reason why in grade school the nuns chastised us for being a “tattle tale,” even though we really were reporting the actual breaking of the rules by our 3rd-grade classmate. For, to expose the sins of someone unjustly, and for the purpose of ruining their name, is what is entailed by detraction. That children are susceptible to such wicked intentions is obvious, as we all desire to look better than our classmate, or our workmate, or perhaps even our spouse.

Consider then, for example, a husband who has once cheated on his wife many years ago. He has duly repented, his wife has forgiven him, and they have lived happily in that place of forgiveness for many years. However, now that same husband decides to run for a local public office, and his political rival gets wind of his sexual past. You get the picture. This case should illustrate the clear difference between a justified and an unjustified exposure of sin, which is not to say that every case has such clarity.

Detraction is the sin that our culture swims in today. We are up to our necks in the unwarranted and unjustified exposure of other people’s sins. We play off of it. We feed off it. We get our social media kicks off of it. We call it “shaming,” and its effect on our otherwise noble pursuit for justice is exactly what the Devil has had planned for us all along: for in shaming and detracting our neighbor, we commit a whole new kind of injustice. And in our pursuit to rectify old injustices, like racial injustice, we create a new kind of unjust society, a new kind of injustice that itself needs correction.

Finally, as we see detraction carried out even against figures no longer with us: presidents, pioneers, and even actual saints, figures who left a historical mark significant enough so as to be memorialized with statues or inscriptions, we must again pause and realize the self-destructive nature of this sin of detraction. For one thing we all know is this: once the statue of one sinner has been torn down and tossed into the dustbin of history, there is no end to the exposure of new sins, and thus no end to the tearing down, and the throwing away. But, that is not even the worst of it. For the one who tears down today, is also the one who will be torn down tomorrow. Today’s saint is tomorrow’s sinner, and apart from a genuine appeal to Him who was without sin, every sinner will indeed be torn down.

Calumny and detraction are both violations against justice. Ultimately, both reject the reality of that which is most fundamental, most central, to the Christian message: grace. As such they are representative of that vice closest to justice: vengeance. They are the most common means by which we take part in vengeance, and they are the means through which we become eternally separated from God, and from our neighbor.

Conclusion: Satan’s Vengeance

In an earlier part of The Screwtape Letters, Lewis imagines what Satan’s ultimate goal is, putting that desired goal in the mouth of Screwtape, “To get the man’s soul and give him nothing in return—that is what really gladdens Our Father’s heart.” The “Father” for Screwtape is of course the devil himself. For Satan to destroy the human man is to take his own vengeance on his Creator.

The kind of vengeance culture we are seeing in America today is part of the devil’s plan for humanity— to take from man everything, and give nothing in return. Satan would rejoice to see us doing this to each other– becoming his pawns, in his infernal game. The tools he is using are the sins of calumny and detraction; sins now so commonplace we fail to think about them, and can hardly name them. Yet, all the while we go about spending precious resources on more futile attempts to rectify what is ultimately a problem of the heart, not one of the color of the skin (which really is only so deep).

If we ask ourselves the honest question of whether or not the attempt at Justice we are seeing in our country today is bearing good fruit, is actually moving us to a more just society, we dare not be unaware of the vices that accompany this naturally good desire. It may be good to hope for the “better angels of our nature” to win out, but it would be foolish to deny that the “vicious devils of our hearts” are not always at work.

Defending Christian Hope against Its Historical Contenders

In the preface to his 1968 book Marxism and Christianity, then atheist philosopher Alasdair MacIntyre1 MacIntyre eventual went on to convert to Roman Catholicism. opens with an incisive statement about the nature of Christian and Marxist beliefs:

“The second point worth remark is the extent to which Christians and Marxists both wish to exempt their own doctrines from the historical relativity which they are all too willing to ascribe to the doctrines of others. They thus fail to formulate adequately the task of discriminating between the truths of which their tradition is a bearer from what are merely defensive or aggressive responses to their social situation. But if they will not do this, then their critics have a duty to try to do it for them.”2MacIntyre. Marxism and Christianity, Apple Books. 8

In this part of the preface MacIntyre points out that both Christianity and Marxism share a fundamental commonality, they both make claims about their own systemic beliefs, their own “doctrines” that place the truth value of those beliefs outside the reach of the relative and contingent nature of historical and cultural conditions. They assert that their beliefs sit on a firm metaphysical (Christianity) or epistemic (Marxism) foundation, while the truth values of beliefs of other world views shift and move as historical currents ebb and flow. Christianity and Marxism make claims that seem to be untouchable by these shifting sands of social history, and act therefore as universal hermeneutical lenses by which all of human history can be properly interpreted, both at the cultural and individual level.

If this is the case, then for every generation of the Church it will be a fundamental task of the Christian apologist to answer the singular question that MacIntrye raises in this descriptive statement, namely, to what extent is Christianity, or more particularly Christian beliefs, the byproduct of cognitive reactions to particular historical and cultural conditions, and to what extent are Christian beliefs separate from or transcendent to those same historical or cultural conditions. In other words, if there are Christian truths, are they merely contingent ones that are valid perhaps only for a moment in time or for a particular culture in a certain place in time, or are they necessary truths that are valid regardless of any given historical or cultural situation. And, if there are such transhistorical truths, how does one discern or “discriminate” which ones are born by the actual Christian tradition, from those that are just beliefs conditioned by historical circumstances, and that can eventually be altered, amended, or even eliminated from the overall deposit of faith as the circumstances themselves change?3 one example of this might be the role of women in ministry vìs-a-vìs the doctrine of the Trinity.

This is a fundamental task for the Christian apologist trying to answer the skeptical voices of her day, whether that skeptical voice come in a rationalistic, modernistic tone, or in a post-modernistic, existential one. But, how we answer the rationalist and how we answer the existentialist will differ, and must differ, if we are going to successfully challenge the current Zeitgeist that seeks to undermine those transhistorical truths of the Christian tradition, as well as adapt our theology to meet its legitimate historical contentions. To answer the first type we must defend the truthfulness of Christian propositional claims, but to answer the latter type we will be required to defend the beauty of its vision.

Responding to Modernist Positivism & The Challenge from Science

For almost two and a half centuries, since perhaps the dawn of the Enlightenment with Rene Descarte, and through the advent of Darwinian Evolution in the late 19th century, Christianity has had to contend with one broad, yet very dominant philosophical view of reality: rationalism. Although other non-Christian intellectual movements were always afoot, e.g. 18th-19th century German Pantheism, rationalism has broadly shaped the course of Western culture, especially in Europe, the UK and the US for some time. More accurately though, it was not just the hegemony of human reason as the sole source of knowledge, but really the theories of empiricism that won the day, beating out its historical competitors, such as pure rationalism and philosophical idealism, to become the guiding light of modern social and political reality. While pure rationalism held that human reason alone, entirely apart from observation, could gain access to universal or necessary truths, and Idealism claimed that human consciousness was more fundamental than the matter it perceived; pure empiricism suggested instead that all knowledge arises out of experience, which means it arises through the senses.

This empiricism then, with the natural sciences operating as its functional arm, eventually culminated in what many philosophers know as “Logical Positivism” a philosophical view that asserted that any truth claim that could not be verified by scientific methods was essentially a meaningless claim. On the historical heals of David Hume’s skepticism and Immanuel Kant’s subsequent epistemic dismantling of metaphysical knowledge, logical positivism was the ultimate outworking of a rationalistic and hyper-empirical framework of knowing. Logical Positivists like A.J. Ayer sought for certainty about truth claims, and determined that only the methods of natural science and mathematical reasoning could deliver that certainty. This view effectively transformed most religious claims, and all kinds of other claims, into ones of a merely private and utterly mystical sort. Ultimately Logical Positivism fell apart as internal critiques mounted and as external critiques about the truth conditions of science itself were levied against it.4 see Thomas Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions.

With regard to the challenges that more modest forms of scientific empiricism have made to religious metaphysical and epistemic truth claims, these have been responded to for well over 50 years now. They have been met with robust philosophical and theological answers, and it is these interactions that most Christian apologists today are familiar with.5 A prime example would be debates such as William Lane Craig vs. Sean Carroll, or Craig vs. the late Christopher Hitchens, or John Lennox vs. Richard Dawkins. As the rise of analytic philosophy in the late 19th and early 20th century provided post-WWII Christian scholars with tools to redevelop in a fresh way many of the classical arguments for Christian theism, so now one can find Christian philosophical resources answering the challenges of scientific empiricism with relative ease. The big names in this field are easily recognized by Christians who dabble in theology, philosophy or even biblical studies: Swinburne, Plantinga, Craig, Pruss, Adams, Alston, Stump, Van Inwagen et al., are well known analytical philosophers of religion who have specifically engaged in the defense of either theistic belief broadly, or Christian doctrine more precisely.

This movement has even spawned a more focused inquiry in the area of Christian doctrine called Analytic Theology, where the tools of analytic philosophy of religion are pressed into service to more carefully articulate core Christian doctrines such as the Trinity or the Incarnation.

This scientific empiricism that has challenged and continues to challenge the historical deposit of the Christian faith one could label as Modernistic Positivism. It is modern in that it reflects the core tenets of the early modern period, which emphasized the use of human reason as the main tool for accessing truth about the world. It is positivist in that it seeks through verification principles a positive understanding and description of reality, one that human beings could hopefully take in, grasp, and build off of. Today, there are still well known modernists who despite their atheism or agnosticism on religious or metaphysical claims maintain their belief that there is objective truth that can be accessed by the means of science, and that there are law-like structures that can be discovered by human investigation. Some who have a modernist bent will even suggest that religious systems like Christianity make true claims when it comes to morality, even if its metaphysics is false. They are moral realists in the fullest sense, even if moral values find their grounding in some object other than the divine nature or will.

To this historically conditioned modernist positivist view, it seems now that not only is there a robust and fairly charitable, ongoing dialogue, but that Christianity now even has allied itself with some of modernism’s more rigorous defenders. The reason for this is the unity found in the use of reason as a means to access truth. Reason, for many modernists, is not historically situated, at least not entirely, and while there may not be a “viewpoint from nowhere” in the words of one atheist philosopher,6 This phrase is attributed to NYU philosopher Thomas Nagel there are views of reality that can be shown to be more legitimate than others, more accurate than not, and more true than false. While Christianity may have been reeling in the mid- 20th century to meet the challenge levied against it by modernist positivism, it seems now to have held its own with regard to defending the universal truths that are born by its Great Tradition: e.g. that God exists, that God is Triune, that Jesus is God, that He rose from the dead, etc.

Outstanding areas of debate of course still exist in many realms of inquiry, e.g. the historical Adam and Eve, the reliability of the Gospels, the transmission of the Old Testament manuscripts, and modernist positivists will always raise objections to objective claims about metaphysical and historical truths, especially in their demand for more concrete forms of evidence for those claims. For the modernist positivist, dialogue will still be primarily a matter of discussing evidence and using reason to adjudicate truth values of propositions. But, these demands and this method can at least be met with some measure of force today, even if they are never fully satisfied by the tools of reason alone.

The larger problem that now looms before many Christian apologists however is no longer how to respond to a subsection of Western culture that embraces these increasingly irrelevant 19th and early 20th century philosophical views, but how to respond to what is quickly becoming the dominant philosophical view of our times, a view I will call postmodern existentialism.

Responding to Postmodern Existentialism & The Marxist Challenge

“But the essence of man is no abstraction inherent in each separate individual. In its reality it is the ensemble of social relations.”

Karl Marx

Christian apologists may feel they have been by and large battling men in white lab coats and grizzled logicians in the Russellian tradition the last several decades. Men in this rationalist tradition, and only infrequently women, have pressed Christian defenders, always looking for more evidence and more verification for their claims. Today, however, the tide has shifted yet again, and apologists find themselves confronted with a different face of atheism, one that is far more subtle in its manifestations and far more willing to operate as a replacement for religion than its modernist predecessor.

While the modernist positivist often still believes in progress based on a persistent and rigorous investigation of nature and its laws, the postmodern existentialist differs drastically from the Enlightenment hanger-on in her rejection of the idea that objective truth is attainable. All claims to truth are tainted by human innovation and thought, and therefore the only area of inquiry worth putting to the test is human thought itself. The postmodern existentialist therefore places far less emphasis on putting microbes under microscopic scrutiny and instead puts the social conditions of the biologist herself under scrutiny, in the hopes of finding out why the biologist will make certain conclusions about said microbe and not other ones. On this view, society itself is the lab rat, and everything else, to include philosophy, theology and even the natural sciences, is downstream from culture. On such a view it will matter who examines the nature and effects of the Coronavirus, regardless of whether they have identical academic credentials. But, it will not be their reason that leads them to varying conclusions, it will be other sociological properties that differentiate them.

For the postmodern existentialist then it is the human agent herself that constructs the systems in which she lives and externalizes and reifies (makes real) her own identity and essence. Man is animal for the postmodern existentialist to be sure, but he is an animal of his own making. To engage with this kind of philosophical worldview puts the Christian apologist in a very different epistemic and social arena than when dealing with the aforementioned modernist, since the modernist positivist still has an outward looking view of truth, while the postmodern existentialist finds all truth, even those outside herself, as products of her own thinking. This marks the inward turn from truth as verifiable fact subject to reason, to truth as “lived experience” subject to social and cultural conditions.

At the outset of this essay I suggested that it would be the task of every generation of the Church to have to show how Christian truth claims (at least some of them) are not subject to the shifting sands of cultural development, or mere byproducts of social conditions, but rather are transcendent, universal, timeless, and perhaps even necessary, e.g. the belief that God exists. However, there is a second task that each new generation of the Church will face if MacIntyre’s opening statement is true, namely, Christianity will have to persistently counter the arguments of the other worldview that claims to provide a universal interpretive lens to human history: Marxism.

My goal here is not to retell the history of Marxism, which must be understood in light of Hegel’s phenomenology and his view of the history of philosophy. A history that Marx thought needed to move from the realm of the abstract to the concrete realities of life. Marxist philosophy is philosophy actualized. That is why Marx’s focus was to present history as not a history of abstract ideas like Hegel, but one of economic stages. For Marx, it is the lower rung of material conditions that shapes and molds the human animal, and in shaping and molding the human animal, the very thoughts that that animal has, to include her religious thoughts, are also shaped. Thus, to change the lower rung of material conditions, is to change the constitution of the thinking animal. And, to change the thinking animal is to change the abstract thoughts the animal has, i.e. to change philosophy itself. Change the abstract thoughts and you change the very possibility of thinking about God. And, if as Feuerbach argued, God just is a replacement for the wants and needs left unmet in the individual human animal, and if those wants and needs can be met by the reshaping of the lower rung of material conditions, then you have a means by which thinking about God can itself vanish into oblivion. This is why, “in the course of building a communist society, the Marxist must fight religion because it will inevitably stand in its path.” (MacIntyre, Marxism and Christianity, Apple Books 102).

As such, Postmodern existentialism is postmodern in that it claims (circularly) that human reason itself is shaped by the same lower level material and social conditions that Marx pointed out. And, because human reason is shaped by things like social location (e.g. poor or wealthy), or material composition (e.g. male or female, black or white) there are therefore multiple competing reasonings. And, if there is no transcendent Principle or Person by which to adjudicate these various human reasonings, then there is no way to really adjudicate which systems developed by different human groups or cultures are superior or inferior. Postmoderism essentially does away with normative claims in this regard. There just are systems of belief, grounded in different cultural ways of reasoning, and that is about all there is to say. This view accepts that history is fundamental, while philosophy and theology are contingent.

But because Marx also offered a practical theory of economics, Marxism becomes analogous to the natural sciences of the modernist. It provides the mechanism through which the postmodern utopian vision can be attained. That vision is conceptually however a Christian one. It is a vision of a Christian eschatology realized apart from the divine person of Christ:

“This belief [that communism is inevitable given the possibilities and resources of human nature] without which Marxism as a political movement would be unintelligible, is a secularized version of a Christian virtue.”

MacIntyre, Marxism and Christianity, 92

Where the hardcore modernist failed in offering a replacement to religious faith, the postmodern existentialist steps in. After all, the scientific empiricist simply gives an account of material facts, leaving the human person and the human society at a loss to relieve the existential angst that weighs him down. What postmodern existentialism with cultural Marxism as its operational arm does is try to fill the God-shaped hole caused by scientific rationalism (i.e. the Enlightenment project). It is in this sense that postmodernist existentialism is existential. As such the task of the Christian apologist now must be altered to meet this different challenge, for it is not as much about offering evidence for truth claims about Christian doctrines, as offering a vision of the Christian hope behind those claims. Or, as MacIntyre puts it:

“Only one secular doctrine retains the scope of traditional religion in offering an interpretation of human existence by means of which men may situate themselves in the world and direct their actions to ends that transcend those offered by their immediate situation: Marxism.” (12)

Reimarus, Lessing, Strauss, Bauer, Renan and their 20th-century analytical successors like Russell, Ayer, Mackie et. al., may have generated the rational critiques of Christianity and theism respectively, but they did not provide much of an alternative to fill the gap. Deism or a contentless atheism never finds much foothold in the throes of humanity’s masses. For that a religious replacement is always needed, and Marx knew this.

Conclusion

In sum, there are two different paradigms of thought that the Christian must contend with: something like modernist positivism with the natural sciences as its operative arm, and something like postmodern existentialism with social or cultural Marxism as its operative mechanism. To combat the former, Christians have drawn, and quite successfully so, from the reservoir of analytic Philosophy to defend classical Christian truth claims against their scientific despisers. This project has been successful enough that one well-known Christian philosopher has been able to call it a “renaissance of philosophy of religion”7 I attribute this to William Lane Craig who mentions it often in his public debates over the past several decades in the academy. However, to defend Christian truth claims against skeptics who tend to make no attempt at a constructive vision to replace the Christian worldview is qualitatively different from defending it against skeptics who do make an attempt to construct a replacement vision. After all, “both Marxism and Christianity rescue individual lives from the insignificance of finitude…by showing the individual that he has or can have some role in a world-historical drama.”(MacIntyre, Marxism and Christianity, 110)

What the Christian apologist must do therefore is not just defend its transhistorical propositional claims, but also be in the position to offer the postmodern existentialist, the one who sees cultural Marxism as the best (or only) medium for realizing an essentially Christian vision, a better eschatological view, both of society and of the individual. Again, however, MacIntyre points out a common problem in both of these systems that offer such “transcendent” claims about the human condition, namely, there inability to articulate what the solution to man’s condition ultimately looks like:

“But just as Christianity has been much better at describing the state of fallen men than the glories of redeemed men, so Marxism is better at explaining what alienation consists of than in describing the future nature of unalienated men.” (92)

The Christian and Marxist narratives both give an account of the fundamental problem of human existence: alienation. But for the Christian it is alienation from an actual Creator. For Marx it is alienation from one’s own nature (whatever that may be) and from one’s neighbor. For the Christian alienation from one’s self and from one’s fellow man ends when the alienation from God ends. For Marx, alienation from one’s self and from one’s fellow man ends when labor is eliminated and all people have the same material conditions. On Marxism the “transcendent” historical assertion is made: change the material conditions change the humanity, change the humanity change the human relations, change the human relations instantiate an abstracted heaven on a concrete earth. On Christianity the metaphysically transcendent truth claim is made: change the relation to God change the human person, change the human person change the human relations, change the human relations do the will of God on earth.

To this end, apologists must offer a better articulation of what the end goal of the Christian life is. We must give a better account of what it means to be united in and to Christ, to have a true communion of the saints, and to relish for eternity in the power and glory of the Creator. We must remind and bring to mind that justice will be done, and that all things made right, and good, and harmonious, but only if we subject our own desires for justice to the providence and Lordship of Christ. To do this we must draw from a different arsenal than that of analytic philosophy of religion, we must do imaginative apologetics. We must create a vision of the life that can in part be fulfilled here through the love of Christ working in people, but that will also be ultimately realized apart from our own efforts when Christ Himself does return. Moreover, we must understand the desires of men to have justice and beauty, and respond with examples of each.

Finally, to challenge this new wave of Marxist thought we must fight fire with fire: we must be active in our theologizing, the way Marx argued philosophy must become active. We must step out from the realm of the abstract and demonstrate concretely what the Kingdom of God on earth will look like. Our biblical call to justice must counter in concrete and visible forms those voices who would call for a justice apart from Him Who is just.

Without a positive, imaginative vision of what comes after the Fall and even our own individual salvation, we may well find ourselves overwhelmed once again by the swelling tides of history, and facing yet another dystopian collapse.

“Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power belong to our God, for his judgements are true and just; for he has judged the great prostitute who corrupted the earth with her immorality, and has avenged on her the blood of his servants….

Hallelujah, for the Lord our God, the Almighty reigns. Let us rejoice and exult and give him the glory, for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his Bride has made herself ready; it was granted her to clothe herself with fine linen, bright and pure”

Revelation 19:1-2; 6-8