The Wages of Sin

As a side note: I have a disproportionately large amount of trust for bearded intellectuals. As in, I'm more likely to read your book if you have facial hair.

Abstract, spiritual truths have extremely practical, daily effects. For example, the arguably abstract concept that we are made in the image and likeness of God has the extremely tangible result of us applying the Spiritual to the world around us and going out stargazing.

I believe this same idea to be true of St. Paul’s warning to the Romans, that “the wages of sin is death.” Sweet, Paul! Very abstract, we can apply it to the supposed judgment of the afterlife; nothing more to see.

But hold up (wait a minute, put a little love in it). St. Paul was referring to something we can see and touch in this modern age. What are our big sins? Let’s list ‘em out, shall we?

Abortion. Now this might seem unbearably obvious – of course the wage of that sin is death; the death of a child! But the death of the unborn child is the intention of an abortion; it is the crime itself. What, then, is the wage of that crime? It’s not merely some vague idea of sorrow or guilt. It is death in the form of breast cancer. Abortion increases a woman’s risk for the most deadly type of breast cancer around.

Now to be absolutely clear, I’m not saying that breast cancer is some sort divine punishment for the sin of abortion. Rather, I aim to show that the moral law – that stodgy, embarrassing set of dogmas branded on every human heart – is there for a reason. It is there to protect us. When we ignore the moral law, we get hurt. The wages of sin is death, in the same way the wages of ignoring the commands of traffic lights is death.

We see a similar thing happening with Contraception. In an unforgivably unfashionable move, The Church upheld the moral law with Humanae Vitae and forbid the use of artificial contraception. “Aw, c’mon!” said the world. “It’s not gonna hurt anyone!”

“It will,” sayeth Lady Kirk, “It will hurt the human family. It will hurt you in ways we don’t know yet, for the wages of sin is death, remember?” And truly, the church couldn’t say much more than that, for the world had not experienced the effects of putting 80% of our women on birth control pills.

Well, know we now. Once again, risk for deadliest form of breast cancer is increased by our moral apathy. And isn’t this the saddest part of it all, that men seeking sex without consequences are the ones walking away unscathed, while women pay? The wages of sin is death.

Now there are hundreds of other sins I could mention. Drug abuse leads to death. Excessive anger and violence leads to death. Pornography leads to the death of marriages, the death of sexuality, and the death of excitement. This is all readily available to the eyes of believers and unbelievers alike. But what can we learn from this seemingly apparent truth of St. Paul?

It actually gives us a rather unique weapon. It gives the Christian the prophetic ability to ignore the cries of “it won’t hurt anyone!” that come with each new evil. With the knowledge the wages of sin is death, the Christian can instead affirm, “Yes, it will hurt some one. You just don’t know who yet.” Take for instance, the fact we have been injecting children with vaccinations made from the cells of aborted fetuses for quite some time now. Why not? says the world. The Christian, not knowing a single thing about the issue, can feel free to oppose on the basis that it will hurt someone; that it will lead to some sort of death, based on the obvious fact that the action is sinful, and on that universal truth that “the wages of sin is death.” And he’d be mocked, and then vindicated later on. For now there is evidence that these vaccinations are directly correlated to increases in instances of autism.

The Point: Following the moral law is not mere conformity to abstract commands that will attain you Heaven. Following the moral law is the surest way of living fully alive, here and now, on this earth, avoiding death and attaining life.

In Defense of Liturgy the Second

If, like I’ve shown, everyone practices liturgy, why then is there a distinction between liturgical denominations and Evangelicals? Why does the latter get grumpy with the former about all their rules, motions and symbols? Now, the common answer goes something like this: “Because, Catholic and Lutheran and all the rest, your ancient liturgy is overly complicated, elitist, snobbish, pretentious, and dripping with wealth. It is all high and detached, boring, old, stuck-in-the-pews, unrelatable to the modern age. The average human being must feel completely isolated amidst it all, as do the youth. It is a party for old, rich, white people, and one can get to God in easier, simpler ways.” Does that sound about right?

Good, because I agree with it completely. I just agree with it in reference to modern evangelical liturgy, not the Mass. Let’s pretend – for an instant – that we aren’t the spoiled, rich, and probably white, Internet-soaked children that we are, and that we actually are your average human being.



Now obviously, not all Evangelicals practice only lame liturgy. And there’s

all sorts of General Christian, Christian, Non-denominational Christian churches
that this applies to. So if your church looks like this…



…or this is your main form of Sunday worship…



…or this is mildly annoying, then I’m talking to you.

If your average human being - pagan, post-Christian or what have you - stumbles into a Catholic mass he will – to the most extent – understand the basics. He will understand that it is about Christ, by the crucifix. He will understand it is about worshipping that Christ by all the liturgical kneeling, bowing and genuflecting that goes on. He will understand that the bread and wine are important – by the candles that surround them, the precious metals they are contained in, by the incense and the bells; in short – by the liturgy that surrounds them. But it is a very good chance that he would not be as easily able to understand a prayer-circle, mega-church or non-denominational chapel. If modern evangelical liturgy is indeed simple and relevant, it is only because it is incomprehensible to those not “in the know”. Blanks walls are simply blank walls to those unaware of what goes on within them. An empty cross is empty. And while you might always walk into a church, you must be invited into a prayer-circle.

Though it secretly is, this is not to say one liturgy is better than the other – for truly, some of my most intimate encounters with God have been within circles of fellow Christians. Instead, this is to ask: Can you not see how evangelical liturgy – which falsely claims to be a lack of liturgy – is simply not enough? That the claim that ancient liturgy is elitist, irrelevant, and isolating is just silly? (Good, me too.) The Universal Liturgy, far from making worship elitist, makes worship public; available. Whereas Evangelical and non-denominational liturgy has effectively attempted to make the private, personal worship of the Christian the same as the public, and has thus limited the liturgy to those who have private, personal encounters with God in the first place, a thing that many of us, saints and sinners alike, have difficulty with. As an example, take the public confessing of sins that so many Evangelical churches include in their liturgy. This takes the personal and private confession of sin to God (or for the Catholic, the privacy of the confessional) and puts it in public liturgy. And thus, those most likely to take part in this public confession of sin are those who already practice the private confession of sin, while those who already find it difficult to confess their sins to God are ‘no way in hell’ going to stand up and tell everyone that they fornicate on the weekends.

Again, the problem is not confessing sins to one another. That is a very good and holy and helpful practice. The problem is the attempt to make that action liturgical, to make what is private worship public worship. The exact same thing – the public confession of sin – takes place at a Catholic Mass. Everyone, priest and congregation, says:

I confess to almighty God,
and to you,
my brothers and sisters,
that I have sinned through my own fault,
in my thoughts and in my words,
in what I have done,
and in what I have failed to do;
and I ask blessed Mary,
ever virgin,
all the angels and saints,
and you,
my brothers and sisters,
to pray for me to the Lord our God.

But what an immense difference! Here we see a prayer specifically designed as a public exclamation, as a universal claim, as a united recognition of our common failure. It is public worship pronounced publicly, not private worship rammed into a public affair. So that’s why I’m all about old-school liturgy; it makes worship truly available.

And this is a truth that we Catholics – I don’t know about the rest of you liturgical, but still heretical, denominations – often have trouble admitting to. See, there is a temptation to revel in the depth and sublime beauty of our faith, in it’s intricacies and secrets, and certainly; all these things are available. But the Liturgy is universal to the point of stupidity. (Maybe that’s what this post will be remembered for; Catholic liturgy is stupid.) Regard for instance, this conversation that never happened:

Maker of Liturgy: Alright, so the bread turns into Jesus. Awesome. How are we going to signify that? We need to let people know when it happens.
Intelligent Human: Well, we could have the congregation echo the words of the disciple Thomas, and the priest then -
Catholic: Bells!
Maker of Liturgy: I’m sorry?
Catholic: You know, bells? As in: Ding-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling, heeeere’s JESUUUUS!
Intelligent Human: Don’t You think that’s a little blatantly obvious?
Catholic: BELLS! BELLS! BELLS! BE-
Maker of Liturgy: Alright, alright. Uh, let’s move on, shall we? The priest needs to show his reverence for the altar, and thus for the sacrifice of the Eucharist. What should he do?
Intelligent Human: Well, in this case a cruciform blessing would be appropriate, perhaps with holy water, and then -
Catholic: Naw, just let him kiss it.
Maker of Liturgy: What?
Intelligent Human: Are you completely retarded?
Catholic: Just give it smooch, you know? Like: Hey altar, I like you!
Intelligent Human: Screw this, I’m becoming Amish.

And so on. In every aspect of the liturgy, you can almost guarantee that Catholics are performing the most human of responses to divine truths. The bread is God? Alright, let’s put it in a box made of gold. Mary is beautiful? Alright, let’s draw a picture of her. The ultimate example of this happy stupidity is a Monstrance. A Monstrance contains the Body of Christ and shows it to the people. What does the word ‘monstrance’ mean? Literally. a show-er. Goodness.

So there you have it. Ancient liturgy is the cat’s pajamas because it is not  - despite popular complaint – elitist, isolating, snobbish, pretentious or any of the rest. It is catholic in the true sense of the word. And this will all make even more sense in my next post, in which I reveal the third and oft’ forgotten definition of liturgy; the only definition worth following. Imma be late for work writing this!!!!