Behold, Thou desirest truth in my innermost being: and shalt make me to understand wisdom secretly.
Thou shalt sprinkle me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, make me whiter than snow.
Open my ears and make me hear of joy and gladness: and my bones that have been humbled shall rejoice.
Turn away Thy face from my sins: and remember not all my misdeeds.
Create in me a clean heart, O God: and make anew a righteous spirit within my body.
Do not cast me away from Thy presence: and take not Thy holy spirit from me.
Restore unto me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit.
I will teach those that are unjust Thy ways: and sinners shall be converted unto Thee.
Psalms 51, Allegri, Misereri Mei Deus
The answer to both questions is in the Miserere Mei Deus more profoundly than I could ever express. If I could bring you here, we would sit on the porch of my barn as the sun rose and listen to this over and again, a copy of the Latin and English in our hands. I offer you a link and a prayer instead. Listen, read, and wonder about the truth of the creatures made Ad Imaginem Dei, who have been offered a share in the divine life as adopted children of the One God.
It is the strangest and most beautiful covenantal relationship no man could imagine. And yet it is. Suppose you reject the idea of moral absolutes in Catholic Moral theology. In that case, I submit that your eyes have landed on something short of eternity, short of the Truth of this relationship. “With the whole tradition of the Church, we call mortal sin the act by which man freely and consciously rejects God, his law, the covenant of love that God offers, preferring to turn in on himself or to some created and finite reality, something contrary to the divine will” (JP II, VS, 70).
There are no half-measures or bargaining points to be had by us who come as beggars to the table. Think of it this way: imagine coming to Jesus and saying, “I killed an innocent man to save a city”. An ethics class may suggest that calculus is a wise decision. Would our Lord, who suffered evil rather than committed it, share that perspective? He said, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it, you shall love your neighbor as yourself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets” (Matt 22:38-40). Clearly, this is not the same calculus. Not a calculus at all. It is Love. Someone tell Tina Turner we found the answer to her question, “What’s love got to do with it” …everything! Moral absolutes protect us from ourselves until we come home to our Lord in the good that will not be diminished. “Moral Absolutes, by excluding extrinsically evil acts, protect the inviolable dignity of human person and point the way toward fulfillment in Christ” (William May, An Introduction to Moral Theology, 176).
“It is precisely through his acts that man attains perfection as man, as one who is called to seek his Creator of his own accord and freely to arrive at full and blessed perfection by cleaving to Him” (JP II, VS 71). In the mystery of His redemption, I discover the “concrete” possibilities of myself (JP II, VS, 103). It is not enough for me to do good work. Less enough that I arbitrate my good acts on a scale of my own making for “Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me” (Rom 7:21) “For [my] works to be good and perfect, they must be done for the sole purpose of pleasing God” (St Alphonsus Maria De’Liguori, The Practice of the Love of Jesus Christ, VII, 3). The weight of that realization, combined with our darkened intellect and disordered will, can lead us to despair and misunderstand the gift of moral absolutes as a burden or a bridle to rebel against.
Here, we lean on the Church, reminding us of Our Lord’s words, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light” (Matt 11:28-30). For it is not we who must do this work. We do not build a ladder and mount the steps to heaven. We put our Faith in Him and allow Him to live in us. And when we fall, “we lift our hearts to the Lord,” and he picks us up, and we run a few steps more. Our expressions play out God’s story of the making of Man like miniature epic poems. Look …for it is quite something to behold. It can be witnessed on the faces of very young children learning to walk. They fall, and upon their faces move a momentary cloud until up they stand and lurch happily, arms outstretched to their parents. But also on the faces of penitents leaving the confessional, the lone athlete holding his hands aloft in prayer in the middle of the stadium going wild after a glorious win, and tourists on the edge of the Grand Canyon.
Thank you, Lord, for the hedge of protection around me in your wise restraints that will make me free. “Deal favorably, O Lord, in thy good pleasure unto Zion: build Thou the walls of Jerusalem” (Psalm 51:18), and I will stay inside them because if they are walls of your making, they are for my good.
Allegri, Gregorio. Miserere Mei, Deus. Performed by the Choir of New College, Oxford, directed by Edward Higginbottom, Erato, 2001. YouTube, uploaded by [HWFr], [10, February, 201], https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=36Y_ztEW1NE
John Paul II. Veritatis Splendor. Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 1993. Vatican.va, https://www.vatican.va/content/john-paul-ii/en/encyclicals/documents/hf_jp-ii_enc_06081993_veritatis-splendor.html.
Liguori, Alphonsus. The Practice of the Love of Jesus Christ. Translated by Eugene Grimm, vol. 7, Benziger Brothers, 1884.
May, William E. An Introduction to Moral Theology. 2nd ed., Our Sunday Visitor Publishing, 2003.