Faith and Depravity

As an opening question to the often overlooked parable of the Pharisee and the publican, Jesus asks “when the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith on the earth?” He then goes on to compare a self-righteous Pharisee, who thanked God that he was better than other men, to a publican (a tax collector) who pleaded with God to “be merciful to me a sinner” (Luke 18:10-14). We are left to consider the great significance of the faith of a sinful man who seeks the mercy of Heaven.

For many Christian faiths – including Latter-day Saints – it is a troubling thought to imagine that we are so depraved. Yes, we recognize that the Lord is capable of saving us from our fallen and depraved condition. But we have no desire to dwell on our imperfect natures. Clearly we are better off enjoying the optimism of Christ’s “good news”. This parable, however, is a warning lest we deceive ourselves. Optimism is one thing, forgetting our dependence on Christ is something very different. When our optimism turns into self-justification – as evidenced by the Pharisee – it’s time to take a closer look at our faith. For this parable – shockingly – teaches us that the faith required for salvation is a faith that achingly recognizes our own unworthiness before God.

In this parable Jesus taught that the outwardly righteous Pharisee was not justified; whereas the humbled publican was. There is no statement indicating that the publican was really free of sin, or that he had only committed minor sins. We are left to conclude that he was, in fact, a sinner as he freely admitted. Nonetheless Jesus is clear in this particularly paradoxical case that, in the end, it is the humble that will be exalted.

And then, as if to answer Jesus’ initial question by implication, we ask ourselves how it is that a humble sinner has this kind of saving faith. And maybe more tellingly, we ask ourselves, how it is that a devoted religious man ended up lacking this faith.

It would seem that there is a particular kind of repentant self-abasement that wins the approval of Heaven? The self-possessed seem to lack this divine favor; whereas, the most disadvantaged among us often don’t. I am reminded of one line in my Grandmother’s favorite scripture: “And if men come unto me [meaning Christ] I will show unto them their weakness” (Ether 12: 27 – in the Book of Mormon). The scripture then goes on to show that weakness can lead to humility; which, when affected by Christian faith, can then lead to strength.

In both of these examples, it is our own deficiency and recognized dependence upon the grace of Christ that wins Heavenly favor. We seem to appreciate the comforting promises of God that come to those with faith. But this is a different sort of blessing. It is a promise that God will lead us to the point of failure if we are serious about following Him.  

This is a doctrine that is noticeably sequestered (or frankly denied) in most Christian congregations these days. I suppose this is indicative of the spiritually shallow world we live in. And I find it somewhat unfortunate considering the fairly unambiguous statements about human depravity and sin that are present in both the New Testament and the Book of Mormon. Among the religious descendants of Calvin it ought to be much more apparent - because the Geneva reformer had so much to say about human failings. Following is a typical statement of his regarding depravity and improper desire (concupiscence):

“...our nature is not only destitute of all good, but is so fertile in all evils that it cannot remain inactive. Those who have called it concupiscence have used an expression not improper, if it were only added, which is far from being conceded by most persons, that everything in man, the understanding and will, the soul and body, is polluted and engrossed by this concupiscence; or, to express it more briefly, that man is of himself nothing else but concupiscence.”

Part of our misunderstanding stems from doctrinal history and the confusion surrounding the idea of depravity and free will. Augustine, in his zeal against Pelagius, made much about the works needed for salvation. And it was the hopelessness of ever being able to overcome human depravity with works that ultimately lead Luther to his understanding of faith alone (sola fide) as the way to salvation.

This is a complicated issue over which much ink (and blood) has been spilt. I do not intend to recapture this doctrinal history here (I am not well-enough read to do so). But I do want to point out that this simple parable of the Pharisee and the publican obviates so much of the confusion over this issue. In spite of centuries of controversy, this parable makes clear that a particular kind of faith is necessary. It is the kind of faith that accepts God the Father and recognizes how utterly dependent we are on His grace for our very existence. It is a faith that is humbled before the majesty of the Father and the Son.

And yet, this humility before God can (and has) been grossly misunderstood. Our total dependence upon Him can be considered in a number of ways. For some, this dependence has been seen as the dependence of a puppet on a puppeteer. For others it is the relationship of a creature and its creator. For Latter-day Saints, the relationship is more appropriately that between a child and a loving Father.

There are differences, of course. Children grow up and become less dependent upon their parents. While there is no indication that our dependence upon the Father or upon the Son will ever be less than it is now. This should be something we think about a bit more than we do. In our focus upon overcoming the world – of keeping the commandments and our covenants – we very often forget that we still stand helpless before God.

This can begin to sound like we are mere puppets in the hand of God. And, in fact, it’s easy to see why many bright thinkers have fallen into this trap. There is no easy line to draw between an exalted view of man and the depravity of the publican. And yet both views are correct. This seeming conflict helps explain why we are forever coming up short - and why the need to be ever watchful lest we allow pride to blind us from our sin.  

In Shakespeare’s King Henry VIII, Cardinal Wolsey is forced to confront the grim reality of a lifetime of pride when his secretive scheming against the King, and even against the Pope himself, has finally been discovered. Says Wolsey:

Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:

I feel my heart new open'd. O! how wretched

Is that poor man that hangs on a prince's favours!

There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,

That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,

More pangs and fears than wars or women have;

And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,

Never to hope again.  

Hopefully, we have less to be worried about then conspiring against a king or a pope. But nowhere in scripture is there any indication that sinning against a high official is any less severe than sinning against our neighbor. The grim reality is that we are not capable of escaping the “wretched” world of our fallen existence. In fact, we can’t escape from it on any given day.

I know this sounds quite medieval – so contrary to our traditions of humanist emancipation. Our world has conveniently forgotten the sinful publican because he reminds us that happiness and sin cannot co-exist in the same soul. Our modern myth, on the other hand, is based on the fiction that they can.

We need Christ. He alone can make things right. He alone is the “High Priest of good things to come” (Hebrews 9:11). No, we never have been divine puppets. And we do have the potential of being like our Father in Heaven. Even so we are nothing without Him. Neither are we capable of anything at all without the mercy of Christ. We are so much more dependent on Them then we can possibly understand.

In the end, it takes faith to understand this. It sometimes takes a falling away from the light that is in Christ to recognize how much we need Him. But when we get to this point, it makes perfect sense that we would join the publican and beg for help – “again and again”. This, after all, is the kind of faith the Lord wants us to have.  

References

Cardinal Wolsey’s soliloquy is found in Shakespeare’s King Henry VIII (Act III, Scene 2). The quote from Calvin is from his Institutes, Vol. I, Bk. II, Chap. 1, Para. 8 – cited in: The Five Points of Calvinism by Herman Hanko, Homer Hoeksema, and Gise J. Van Baren, 1976 (Reformed Free Publishing Association). For a masterful discussion of “again and again” see Craig Cardon’s talk in General Conference (of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints – April, 2013).

Anya Knows

Little Anya came to stay

So beautiful and small

Upon our spinning vital earth

And learn about it all

It’s funny that the rest of us

Who think we know our way

Seem much less certain of the place

She left just yesterday

And I am left considering

How innocence like this

Can come into our fallen world

And fill it with such bliss

How to Be Happy

Children can teach us a lot of things. Before they begin to second-guess the world around them, they are amazingly innocent. They laugh when they are happy, cry when they are sad, and (despite our condescending habits) really pout when they are mad.

I have had the good fortune of being able to observe this very revealing childhood laboratory of human nature for a long time. My daughter Alicia (now 21 years old) has been a child for over two decades. She suffers from a form of epilepsy that has rendered her mind aphasic in many ways. She sees the world differently than most of us, and her emotional life is very basic. She can be very happy or sad but doesn’t get overly bothered by the moods of others.

One very noticeable part of her affliction is the lack of a sense of self. Alicia doesn’t care what she looks like or how she behaves. She has never worried about what others might think of her. It is very easy for those of us that live with her, to know how she feels. She is incapable of hiding anything.

When Alicia is happy she smiles and claps her hands. This isn’t a habitual token. It comes from her heart. And the applause isn’t intended for anybody else. It is an intense and rapid staccato that is sparked by her burst of emotional contentment. And it is quite interesting to see what makes her feel this way. Over the course of two decades, I have learned a lot about what makes her happy by trying to get her out of bad moods.

The best way to make Alicia smile is to tell her she has done a good job. It doesn’t matter too much what her accomplishment has been. Often we compliment her for reading a sentence correctly in a children’s book. Sometimes we compliment her on the way she sorts the spoons. She takes great satisfaction (and seems to be constantly clapping) when working on a jigsaw puzzle that she is good at. And she loves being recognized when she sings the right words of a song.

But more interesting to me is the other major reason that Alicia smiles. It happens when she makes other people happy. Many years ago, when she was a little girl, Alicia noticed how happy I was when she handed me a wash cloth after I brushed my teeth. She had watched me enough times to memorize my little routine, including the way I washed my face afterwards. On one particular day she decided to help. When I smiled and give her a kiss, she just bubbled with happiness and began clapping with real energy. I just had to give her a big hug.

Now, however, this fun little experience has become a good deal less entertaining. Alicia tries to help me in the same way every time she sees me brush my teeth. She has mastered all kinds of variations on the theme. Sometimes she throws me a towel. At other times she sneaks up behind me to surprise me. It has become annoying – as most things are after being repeated hundreds of times. But I don’t have the heart to let her know it bothers me. I still muster a smile and tell her how polite she is.

Alicia enjoys bringing you a glass of water as long as she knows it makes you happy. She will also willingly pass you a plate of food at dinner if you make sure to seem pleased. And she will watch a basketball game on TV (even though she doesn’t understand the game) and shout hooray if your team scores – when she sees that you are celebrating too.

I have also observed something very interesting about what fails to make Alicia happy. I mean her continuous need to acquire things. She can be annoyingly fixated on gathering the oddest objects. She will try and steal cups and water bottles in order to enhance her little backyard laboratory of bubble blowing. She will refuse to leave a parking lot if there are hair bands (however small) to be found. And if she thinks there are pennies nearby, she won’t stop looking until she finds one. More frustrating is the need she has to gather more and more books from the library shelves every time she visits (which she insists on doing almost every day).

Alicia acts out an extreme that the rest of us normally experience under better self-control. We know how fun it is to get a present or a bit of spending money. And so we believe that acquiring things is a way to become happy. Alicia’s experience is noteworthy: the psychological drive to acquire does not make us happy. In excess it can only lead to frustration. Yes, a thoughtful gift can make our day. But the belief that we constantly need more things is a childish error.

Just last week I was reminded of both of these truths in sharp contrast. I am in the process of moving my office to my home. I am now working out of my house. Part of this change involves buying several fairly expensive things. I got a new printer, new phones, other new electronic devices, even a company vehicle. It was getting quite a bit more than I ever get for Christmas or for my birthday. It was all nice, but left me none the happier. I still sought out time with my family and a good book at the end of the day.

On the other hand, I was thrilled by a note Kathy received at the same time I was buying all of these things. The note was from a friend in North Carolina (where we used to live) who had attended a class wherein students were asked to name some of the people that had made a difference in their lives. Many students mentioned bishops or school teachers. And apparently one of the students mentioned my name. When I learned this, I felt a real joy. It made me happy all week (and continues to do so as I write about it). It was a very clear example to me that helping others can make us much happier than can the acquisition of things.

We, in the Western World, are surfeited with these kinds of things. In any given week, the mere packaging of the things I might buy is of more value than all of the weekly purchases of a typical individual among the millions of the World’s poor. And yet, for those of us who have been privileged to visit these developing countries, it is obvious that we are no happier than they are. Very often the opposite is truer.

Go “sell all that thou hast, and distribute unto the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven: and come, follow me.” (Luke 18:22) Such a demand from the Lord was too much for the rich young ruler. And it is certainly too much to ask of most of us today. And yet the truth has never changed. If we should spend all our days serving others – even if we only manage to help a very few - “how great shall be your joy” (Doctrine & Covenants 18:15).  

What Will You Change For?

Some time ago, a friend of mine made a comment about the differences between men and women. He said that men find it easier to change. And he meant that men are more likely to repent when they make a big mistake than women are. He gave me a handful of examples and I could see his point. And yet, this claim has bothered me for several years – ever since I learned of it. Even so, I haven’t been able to put my finger on the reason I disagree with it. My friend is not inexperienced in the ways of men and women and I haven’t been willing to dismiss his claim outright. 

Then just recently I gained a bit more insight on the matter. It occurred to me that this very friend had in recent years disagreed with his wife on a handful of issues. Feelings were hurt and unfortunate things were said. After they got through the angst of it all (they are still happily married) it was obvious that it was my friend’s wife who was the most willing to change in order to improve their relationship. This struck me as an important observation because my friend has always been willing to change his life when he makes mistakes.

I have come to believe that men and women are both equally capable and willing (or perhaps unwilling, as the case may be) of making changes in their life. It’s just that the things we are willing to change are often (even inherently) different.

I remember when I was younger overhearing conversations between young married women lamenting the fact that their husbands hadn’t changed as they had hoped. I thought it was quite presumptuous of these women to assume that a man would completely change his life to accommodate his wife’s whims. Why doesn’t she change? I asked myself.

I have learned through the years that women often expect their husbands to change because they themselves are willing to change. Who wouldn’t be willing to change, the feeling seems to be, for the spouse they love more than anything?

The problem with this sort of thinking is that men are more likely to change for other things. Changing for a relationship might make a lot of sense to women (who through the millennia have often had to leave family and move to a husband’s home). But to men, it makes much less sense.

The man, in contrast, is much more philosophically minded. Ideas can motivate his entire life and many of the decisions that he makes. Most men, whether they realize it or not, are philosophers. They may not enroll in philosophy classes. But bringing up a discussion in the abstract is something they normally enjoy. Politics, the weather, even ancient Peruvian mysticism are all valid conversation pieces. There’s an important reason why the discipline of philosophy is almost completely comprised of men. (A professional woman philosopher is a rare bird.) Men are different than women.

With this manly love of philosophy comes an ability to steer one’s life by philosophical principles. If it becomes apparent to a man (whether it’s true or not) that the world’s economy will collapse in coming years, he will likely change his life to prepare for such a catastrophe.  In fact he may go to extremes – extremes that his wife (concerned as she often is with the more immediate challenges) may be concerned about.

A man thus philosophically minded might also be willing to change his life for religious reasons. If he experiences the change of heart that Alma describes so significantly (in the 5^th Chapter of the Book of Alma, in the Book of Mormon) he will very likely be motivated to repent. And very often men have sufficient things to repent of.

But women are also willing to change for religious reasons. When we understand the eternal significance of the family unit, it becomes apparent that sacrifices made to promote family unity become very much religious efforts. When a women makes behavioral sacrifices for her family (whether they be for the benefit of her husband, her children, or whomever) she is certainly making a religious sacrifice. Her change is just as significant as the change her husband makes (say in giving up an alcohol addiction) in order to be worthy of an eternal marriage.

Some of these differences can be magnified out of proportion when we fail to accept our God-given sexual differences. A recent study showing that men and women have inherently different abilities relative to fasting is a case in point. We have been aware for a long time that women (having a greater genetic propensity for storing adipose tissue) survive prolonged physical ordeals better than men. But it now becomes apparent that hungry men are better able to focus their minds off of food than hungry women are. Obviously a comparison of will-power is misplaced given this genetic reality.  

We certainly need more understanding about these differences between men and women. It can help us patiently understand each other’s foibles. Why can men be so unchangingly defensive in public over seemingly little issues – as if they didn’t mind being ornery? And why are women so likely to hold grudges (forever it seems) against other women over something as trivial as a wardrobe sleight?

We all have reasons to change – some of us more than others. But we should also be sensitive to the fact that men and women are made to change in some ways better than others. If you are a philosopher and your wife is a social-light, don’t be concerned. Let your differences complement each other. In the meantime, continue with a humble and a repentant attitude. This will lead each of us in different directions. It may even lead two of us struggling with the very same issue in different directions. Fortunately for all of us, the change will be just right, as long as it is right with God.

References

For the article on dieting differences between men and women, see Jeffrey Kluger’s article Why Men are Better Dieters than Women, in Time Magazine (Monday, Jan. 19, 2009).