The Word is the Last Word

He who spoke first also speaks last.

Gustave Doré (1832-1883), “The Nailing of Christ to the Cross”
Gustave Doré (1832-1883), “The Nailing of Christ to the Cross” (photo: Public Domain)

I recently wrote a blog about what is more dangerous than the coronavirus. In that piece, I reflected on a statement by Thomas Merton where he said that a single mortal sin is more destructive than a nuclear bomb. A single mortal sin, then, is also more dangerous than the coronavirus, and we ought to be as careful about our moral choices as we are about our hygiene and social distancing practices, both individually and as a society.

Let that destruction sink in. Hurricanes, tornadoes, floods, wars, pandemics, earthquakes, nuclear bombs, tsunamis. All terrible, tragic events. Destruction and loss of lives are ultimately incalculable in the wake of these occurrences. And yet, none of these events can damn someone’s soul. None of these things can separate us from the love of God, which is our ultimate good. All of these events can only separate us from secondary, temporal goods. I don’t intend to demean those goods. They are goods. We are body and soul, and bodily goods are absolutely important. But no amount of bodily goods, or lack thereof, can ever exceed our one, supreme good, Goodness himself.

How destructive, then, is our vice! Imagine what a town looks like after a tornado or a strong hurricane. The state of one’s soul is even worse after defying God. We wreck ourselves when we lash out to wreck God. This principle cannot be overstated.

I have heard it said that Christians sometimes talk too much about sin. If someone read parts of that other blog or the first half of this one and stopped before this point, he might say that he is justified in thinking that we are obsessed with guilt. But if we discuss the destruction and evil of sin, it is not for the sake of tearing ourselves down, it is because of the utter mercy of God. Our discussion of bad is not the destination; it is only a road sign meant to point to the good.

Lent begins on Ash Wednesday, a day when we are reminded in a literal in-your-face (rather… on-your-face) kind of way that we are sinners and that we will die one day. On the surface, it sounds like a guilt and scare tactic. It is not. Merton writes regarding the Ash Wednesday liturgy, “Nowhere will we find more tender expressions of the divine mercy than on this day.” The focus of Ash Wednesday is not sin and death. The focus is never on sin and death. It is on mercy. “The cross of ashes, traced upon the forehead of each Christian, is not only a reminder of death but inevitably (though tacitly) a pledge of resurrection.” Ash Wednesday seeks to wake us up from the nightmare of sin and death to the reality of mercy. Our penance and fasting is not about penance and fasting; our penance and fasting is about mercy, grace, truth, goodness, beauty and love.

If we meditate on the terrible nature of sin and its horrible consequences for the core of our very being, it is not for the sake of meditating on sin; it is for the sake of meditating on the awesome healing ability of our God. The really amazing thing about the horror and magnitude of wrong is the power that unmakes the evil in our souls. A mortal sin is more destructive than an atomic bomb, and the forgiveness and sanctification of one human is more miraculous than the complete restoration of a city destroyed by an atomic bomb. Such is the God that we serve.

The final word is this: there is no destruction that cannot be undone. Out of the infinite love and mercy of God, the tragedy of tragedies, the Cross, has wrought us anew. The storms of destruction cease, and miraculous healing takes place. His grace knows no end. The wreckage of our hearts will be recreated into something more beautiful than we can imagine and drenched in unfathomable joy. We will become, in the words of C.S. Lewis, “something which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship.”

Sin and destruction, vice and disease, tempest and waste do not have the last word. God does. Love does. He who spoke first also speaks last. The Word is the last word, the beginning and the end, the Alpha and the Omega. Out of the depths we cry, and he raises us to the heights in his tender care.