I'll spare you the usual Catholic speaker platitudes that jump right to, "We should have that same sacrificial love for each other!" No, we need to think about the Cross, before we try to apply it to our lives. The Protestant and Reformed error is to say that the Father is pouring out wrath upon his Son. I'm simply not going to waste any time refuting that on this occasion. On the other hand, all of us should rightly fear the idea proclaimed in some quarters that Jesus did not die for our sins, or that there is no hell. We do need forgiveness of sins, and the sacrifice of the Cross was the means by which it was accomplished. It is a picture of the Father's love, but it is not only a picture. There is also wide agreement--though it does not appear so at first--that we are not only saved by Jesus's death, but by his life.
Jesus made the enduring sin offering, and the reason the treasury of merits is inexhaustible is because Jesus is well-pleasing to the Father to the maximum degree. Indirectly, this is why forgiveness of sins can be really offered to the worst of sinners. In Christ, any person can become super-abundantly well-pleasing to the Father.
This is no easy universalism; you don't get the forgiveness unless you ask for it. Ironically, Calvinism and universalism agree on one point: we are not important enough to mess up God's alleged plan for our lives.
I think we as Catholics--even in preaching--jump right to, "let us do x." Do such and such with what power? Our own? Practically, we're often a bunch of Pelagians. In reality, we must contemplate Christ, before we seek to integrate his good news into the world. I must become him, and he must become me. When we are one, and he is in control, then I have something to offer. This is why we are a Eucharistic people, because we will become what we have consumed. "It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me."
Just because he doesn't need us doesn't mean we have no value. His generosity elevates us. This is the mystery we refuse to accept: God does not merely tolerate us; he adores us. It is also this love which prods us, if we should be standing outside of his friendship at any one moment. The offer of the gospel is this: do you want to accept this love, or to disdain it? When it is accepted, it grows and becomes more deeply personal, intimate on a level that often makes people uncomfortable. But the love also enlarges us to receive it, and not to draw back in fear from its advance.
Jesus made the enduring sin offering, and the reason the treasury of merits is inexhaustible is because Jesus is well-pleasing to the Father to the maximum degree. Indirectly, this is why forgiveness of sins can be really offered to the worst of sinners. In Christ, any person can become super-abundantly well-pleasing to the Father.
This is no easy universalism; you don't get the forgiveness unless you ask for it. Ironically, Calvinism and universalism agree on one point: we are not important enough to mess up God's alleged plan for our lives.
I think we as Catholics--even in preaching--jump right to, "let us do x." Do such and such with what power? Our own? Practically, we're often a bunch of Pelagians. In reality, we must contemplate Christ, before we seek to integrate his good news into the world. I must become him, and he must become me. When we are one, and he is in control, then I have something to offer. This is why we are a Eucharistic people, because we will become what we have consumed. "It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me."
Just because he doesn't need us doesn't mean we have no value. His generosity elevates us. This is the mystery we refuse to accept: God does not merely tolerate us; he adores us. It is also this love which prods us, if we should be standing outside of his friendship at any one moment. The offer of the gospel is this: do you want to accept this love, or to disdain it? When it is accepted, it grows and becomes more deeply personal, intimate on a level that often makes people uncomfortable. But the love also enlarges us to receive it, and not to draw back in fear from its advance.
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