MYSTERIUM INIQUITATIS

The darkest and most challenging article of faith for the Christian to ponder is that of sin. The reality of man’s obstinate rejection of the Divine Will seems to permeate the very fabric of humanity, although it contradicts the very purpose and essence of our created being—the end to which we were made, namely, to glorify God. Examining the world around us and, indeed, the world within us, the mystery of sin becomes clear, and reveals itself as an enigma of our reality as members of the human race. The “mystery” of sin lies within the fact that sin is, by all accounts, an illogical truth with no rational ground—it simply doesn’t make sense. Try as we might to explain the rationale of evil actions with physiological and evolutionary phenomenon, often pointing to some inherited trait or imbalanced regulatory hormone, the reality remains that no rational explanation for sin exists, for of its very nature sin is irrational. This becomes strikingly apparent to the Christian, who after examining his life with sober eyes, and accepting in his heart the gift of eternal happiness offered to him, realizes that so often he has responded to the God’s invitation to eternal fulfillment with willful rejection simply to promote his own will and ambitions. This truly self-destructive quality of man’s nature has been explored from multiple angles and points of reference. For the purposes of this treatise, the scriptural and traditional theology of sin will be explored—including many insights from the spiritual masters and doctors of the tradition—and then used in a logical and rational exploration of sin, where the mysterium iniquitatis will show itself as just that —a mystery, devoid of all reason. It is imperative to the integrity of this piece that the profession of Christ’s redeeming work be forefront and deeply reverenced as our salvation and deliverance from the grasp of sin and death. The faithful must hold fast to their confession of the redemptive act of Christ, who, by His incarnation, married humanity into His divinity and thus brought our fallen nature into communion with God once again. It is the purpose of this piece to foster a true and pure reverence for the redemption given to us by Christ by developing an understanding of our sinful nature, and the prison of that sin, which we have been freed from at the price of His Most Precious Blood.

A scriptural understanding of the dynamics of sin inevitably draws us to the event of the first sin, namely, the fall of the angels. The question may occur wherein someone may ask, “shouldn’t the matter of sin be addressed from the fall of man, and not of the angels?”. Recall the catechism’s statement: “Behind the disobedient choice of our first parents lurks a seductive voice, opposed to God, which makes them fall into death out of envy.” (CCC 391). Here, it becomes obvious that in order to begin to explore the nature and logic of sin in our own nature, we must begin with examining the first instance of sin. The sin of the demons was brought about by their own choice, born of free will, to “radically and irrevocably reject God and His reign.” (CCC 392). Of this, we can reasonably identify the sin of the fallen angels as that of pride and envy. The event of the fall gives justification to the age-old claim that pride is the “mother and root of all sin”, for in it, the destructive and damning capabilities of the vice are vividly displayed. Satan’s exclamation, “I will not serve!”, echoes through the sins committed everyday as men continue to declare their rejection of the Divine by their actions. Each time we close our eyes to the Will of God in submission to our own sensual appetites and egotistical wills, we find ourselves acting in participation with the pride of the fallen. The idea of pride as the root of sin has been explored by many notable figures, including Dante, who recognized that “pride and avarice and envy are the three fierce sparks that set all hearts ablaze.”, and in his magnum opus, Divina Commedia, Dante depicts pride on the mountain of purgatory as the steepest and widest portion of the hill to overcome—thus speaking to the overarching power of pride to bring about all other kinds and expressions of sin. The nature pride is characterized by a perverted distortion of the self as somehow being capable of deeming equality or authority over God, which is exemplified so clearly in the rejection of the demons who were, until the point of their fall, still in the presence of God Himself, but who still professed their rejection of the Divine and His sovereignty over them as created beings. The very ideology of pride testifies to the irrationality of sin as a whole, for it displays sin as a rejection of God’s offer to His creatures of eternal fulfillment and joy. The fall of the angels amplifies not only the irrationality of sin, but the power that sin can have over creation. An acknowledgment of the power of sin must therefore increase in us an even greater acknowledgment of the mercy and infinite power of God, for, “Once God has spoken; twice have I heard this: that power belongs to God.” (Psalm 63:11).

It is hardly shocking that the sin of the fallen angels is the same sin that tempted our first parents. The serpent’s seduction of Eve in the Garden of Eden bears a striking resemblance to his own fall from grace, and that of the other rebellious angels. It is apparent in the Genesis account of man’s fall that the serpent’s enticement towards Eve, “you will be like God”, parallels Lucifer’s own profession of renunciation, “I will not serve”. Both statements are virtually interchangeable, for they constitute the same principle—you are free to do as you wish without consideration of God’s law, you need not obey anyone, for, you are the god of your own person. The irrationality and illogicality of this principle reveals the true mystery of iniquity and evil, for in the deepest recesses of our being, we know that free will is a gift of God by which we are able to choose to love Him of our own volition, it is fitting that obedience be given to God and His commands since He alone possesses Divine Justice and knowledge of the truth in its entirety, and that no one is like God. Yet, we observe time and time again throughout the scriptures mankind struggle against evil and his own proclivity towards sin. In the garden, Adam and Eve lived in perfect harmony with God, but by the exhortation of the fallen angel, they fell into the mystery of sin, wherein the gift of free will, man’s relationship and belonging to God, and his recognition of himself as he truly is, was cracked and broken so that they could no longer live in communion with Him. Adam and Eve elected death over life, and suffering instead of eternal joy—of this, sin can only be characterized as mysterious and self-destructive.

To emphasize sin as man’s unique struggle on earth, the gospel offers us a pristine example of how unrelenting temptation and sin are by the example of St. Peter and his denials of Christ. Luke’s gospel account describes the Lord’s prophesy of Peter’s eminent denial in the following dialogue: “Simon, Simon, behold, Satan demanded to have you, that he might sift you like wheat, but I have prayed for you that your faith may not fail; and when you have turned again, strengthen your brethren.” And he said to him, “Lord, I am ready to go with you to prison and to death.” He said, “I tell you, Peter, the cock will not crow this day, until you three times deny that you know me.””. Notice Peter’s response to the Lord’s prophesy. In this moment, Peter was confused and allowed his vigilance to recede as he began to recognize what the Lord was suggesting he would do just hours later. However, when the time came, the gospel writer tells us: “Peter said, ‘Man, I do not know what you are saying.’ And immediately, while he was still speaking, the cock crowed. And the Lord turned and looked at Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said to him, ‘Before the cock crows today, you will deny me three times.’ And he went out and wept bitterly.””. In this passage, the reality of Peter’s own weakness revealed itself, and Peter undoubtedly felt the pain of his Lord who looked on as he denied Him. Bear in mind the context of these events—just hours prior, Peter had been ordained a priest, had his feet washed by his Master, and received his first Holy Communion. And yet, in the culmination of the Lord’s redemptive work unfolding before him, Peter denied Christ thrice—just hours after receiving the sacraments. We face this same reality each day—the reality of our own weakness, and our own rejection of God’s love and invitation for the sake of our own pride. Even after receiving the sacraments and so adamantly assuring himself that he would never deny his Lord, Peter fell into the very trap he professed his immunity from. But, knowing he would fall into the mystery of sin, Christ tells Peter, “I have prayed that your faith may not fail”, and then goes on to exhort him: “when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers”. Firstly, notice that Christ does not tell Peter, “I have prayed that you might not fail”, as if asking that Peter might not fall into the temptation to deny Him. Rather, Jesus says “I have prayed that your faith might not fail”. The Lord knew Peter would fall, but this is not the point He chooses to emphasize. He does not dwell so much on the fact that Peter would deny Him, but prays rather that his faith might remain solid so that he would have the strength to rise again, and “strengthen [his] brothers”. This is the expression that Peter saw when the rooster crowed and the Lord looked at him. Jesus did not look at Peter in disappointment and heartbreak, but with encouragement. When Peter recalled the Lords prophesy, he also recalled his exhortation to rise again and strengthen his brothers. This is precisely why Peter received primacy of all the apostles—because he trusted, and he was obedient. He often fell. In fact, there are more than a couple of instances where Peter’s actions are scrutinized—recall the time the Lord rebuked him, saying, “get behind me Satan!”—but Peter never failed to trust his Lord and obey His commands. It is only through the same redemptive act of Christ that Peter would bear testament to later in his ministry that we are able to understand our own weakness and the irrationality of our sin. It is inevitable that we will fall, this is in fact the driving force behind the mystery of sin—that we are guaranteed to experience it, irrational as it is. However, by the marriage of Christ’s divinity to humanity, the doors of redemption were opened, and communion with God became possible once more. Christ’s priesthood is eternal, and the marriage of His divinity and humanity allows us to find justification and freedom in Him and through Him.

The great spiritual masters and doctors of the church knew the mystery of iniquity well. Volumes upon volumes of texts from the likes of Aquinas to Merton, from Augustine to Dante exist, pointing to the fact that many of the great saints and theologians of the tradition have garnered an understanding of the nature of sin, and, inevitably saw the mystery of it. In his autobiography, Confessions, Augustine explains, “My sin was this: That I looked for beauty, pleasure and truth, not in Him, but in myself and in His other creatures.”. This inward examination of Augustine’s own sin gives revelation to a larger truth: that so often we seek the goods of the Creator in His creation—instead of seeking fruit from the Source, we seek fruit from fruit. Augustine came to the realization of the illogicality of his actions because he recognized that he sought beauty in the broken, pleasure in sorrow, and truth in lies. After seeing his actions with sobered eyes, Augustine came to the grand revelation: “Our hearts are restless, until they rest in You.”. Upon superficial examination, this statement seems rather obvious. It is only by facing the reality of our condition—that of being shrouded in the mystery of sin—that we are able to understand how truly grand and striking this revelation is. The grandeur of Augustine’s realization bears greater testament to the irrationality of sin, for, as created beings, it would seem that our hearts would know where they belong, and would choose to remain in their Creator. However, we also know that when we let temptation seep into our lives, and give in to sin, our minds are muddied and our hearts are dimmed so that the truth has difficulty “breaking through”. When the truth does break through, it is striking. St Paul alludes to this when he describes the truth as a “two-edged sword” and as “piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit”. Augustine knew this well, for he says, “The truth is like a lion. You don’t have to defend it. Let it loose. It will defend itself.”. The power of Augustine’s revelation is this: that by the irrationality of sin, we are dimmed and dumbed, but the truth frees us to see the obvious: that our hearts are restless, until they rest in their Source, purpose, and home—that is, God.

Dante understood the reality of sin’s ability to blind the mind and dim the heart clearly. In the first cantica of Divina Commedia, “Inferno”, Dante describes his journey as he slowly approaches the gates of hell: “''I found myself within a shadowed forest, for I had lost the path that does not stray. /Ah, it is hard to speak of what it was, / that savage forest, dense and difficult, / which even in recall renews my fear:/so bitter - death is hardly more severe!''. As Dante ventures closer and closer to the gates of hell, he finds that he is confused, as if his mind is bemused. He speaks of forgetting how he came to “enter the wood”, or when or how he ventured off “the path that does not stray”. The process that Dante describes as he approaches the gates of hell is that of temptation. Sin itself is illogical and irrational, and as rational creatures, a sort of incompatibility occurs when we are faced with sin. This is why temptation plays such a pivotal, if not entirely necessary, role in sin. By temptation, devils seek to confuse and wear the will down until the irrational—that is, the sinful act itself—begins to appear rational. If faced with a sin in its reality, that is to say, if a sin were to be put directly in front of us, the likelihood of us giving into that sin—provided full knowledge be present—would decrease dramatically. Temptation is the process by which the rational faculty of our nature is dimmed, so that the irrational— sin—appears rational. The process of temptation attacks the will and dulls the mind so that it might be open to the irrational justifications of performing a sinful action, until all at once, the will fails and we fall into sin. It is only when we rest secure in the truth—the knowledge that our hearts were made, ordained, and destined by and towards God—that we become able to approach the process of temptation soberly and strong enough to bear the temptations in front of us that seek to dull the mind and strip all rationality away from the will.

The great twentieth century theologian and writer, Thomas Merton, saw this process of stripping away rationality during the process of temptation through the lens of pride. Merton saw pride as being the root of sin, and thus, as rendering the person to a state of “self-proclaimed autonomy” that proves time and time again to be nothing but an illusion, for, “who is like God?”. Merton explains the phenomenon of the illusive path of temptation in these words: “All sin starts from the assumption that my false self, the self that exists only in my own egocentric desires, is the fundamental reality of life to which everything else in the universe is ordered.”. It seems that the phrase “root of all sin” can be applied to the process of temptation in the sense that pride is, in most cases, the initial temptation suggested to the person. After a person is enticed to become prideful, the individual experiences this self-proclamation of autonomy that is in itself irrational, so that, living in this illusive state of self-sovereignty, devils can begin to suggest justifications for other sinful actions. Perseverance on this path of false autonomy rationalizes virtually every action imaginable, for in the prideful mind, “you will be like God” (Genesis 3:5). This gives explanation to the classification of pride as not only a deadly sin, but perhaps the deadliest of sins. After all, “It was pride that made angels into devils” (Augustine). We must come to the realization that we are creations and not the Creator in order to recognize the temptation of pride brewing in us that precedes other sins.

In light of these great theologians’ perspectives, perhaps the most apt and relevant insight into the mystery of iniquity came from the prolific twentieth century poet, W.H. Auden, who, interestingly enough, was not writing on the topic sin when he made his insights. In his 1947 poem, “The Age of Anxiety”, Auden declares, “We would rather be ruined than changed / We would rather die in our dread / Than climb the cross of the moment / And let our illusions die.”. This short quote expresses the fundamental truths of the mystery of sin—namely, that every moment that passes by extends forth an invitation to the eternal feast that we are able to participate in by virtue of the redemptive work of Christ, and that so often we reject the invitation for the sake of pride. What Auden reveals to us is not only the irrationality and illogicality of sin, but also the paradox of it. In our denials of Christ’s invitation, we choose to suffer in vain, be ruined, and die, all for the sake of pride. Pride, of its nature, builds the illusion of autonomy within us so that sin is justified. By the very “mystery” of the mysterium iniquitatis, we reject God’s will, and choose to sacrifice ourselves on the altar of our own egotistical illusions. Auden makes clear the potency of pride and the rejection that it incites by asserting, ““We would rather die…[than] let our illusions die”. It becomes apparent through Auden’s words that sin is, of itself, a process of illusion that defiles our rationality until the rational seems rational; until we begin to believe that the lies we hear are the truth, and at its farthest extreme, we choose to die in our pride. Understanding this—the saddest and most sorrowful reality of our faith—our appreciation for Christ’s sacrifice on the cross becomes so very potent and alive. We are all the blind man that the Lord places His hand upon. If we but trust in Him, our eyes may remain open and vigilant. St. Benedict saw this reality when he wrote his powerful prayer: “Let the Holy Cross be my light, let not the dragon be my guide.”. We are not free from the mystery of sin—this is indeed a large facet of the mystery—but if we trust in Him, just as Peter did when he rose again after his denials, we rest secure in knowing that we will never be slaves to sin.

The scriptural and traditional theology of sin bears witness to the mystery that we have explored in this treatise. The mystery of sin lies in its irrational and illogical nature. Generations and volumes of books may pass by with great theological approaches to the mystery of sin, but in the end, sin strikes against all reason and logic in that it gives the self a sense of autonomy and authority over one’s own self, although we are but created beings in a created world. It is only by living in communion with God that we are able to see sin for what it is—a mystery.