Author: Msgr. Charles Pope

Many of you know that I write the Question and Answer Column for Our Sunday Visitor on both their newspaper side and in their magazine, The Catholic Answer. Every now and then a question comes in that seems like a good topic for the blog.

The following question comes up frequently whenever I teach moral theology classes and we cover the issue of lying. In a way it is remarkable that the format of the question almost never changes, and that the usual (and I would argue questionable) answer has taken such deep root in Catholic thinking.

Here is the question followed by my answer to it. (Note that the answers I provide in that venue are required to be brief.)

Q. Is every lie intrinsically evil? I remember 60 years ago, when the Jesuits were still faithful teachers of Holy Mother Church, being taught that if a person was not entitled to the truth, one could, in fact, lead them away from the truth, by lying. For example, if I knew the hideout of Anne Frank and the Gestapo asked me if I knew her whereabouts, according to this theory, if I said I did not that would [not] be intrinsically evil. Ed S., Muscatine, IA

A: Permit a personal reply to this, with the understanding that reasonable people may differ with some aspects of my answer.

Unfortunately, the approach that you cite is a widespread notion related to a questionable concept called “mental reservation.” I call it “unfortunate” because it seems to say that a lie is not a lie.

But in the common example you cite, you clearly would be lying since it meets the definition of lying: speaking that which is untrue with the intention of deceiving. Indeed, the entire purpose of the lie is to deceive the officials by saying what is untrue.

It will be granted that the situation described is dreadful and fearsome. But I, like many moral theologians, am not prepared to say that it is not a lie simply because the situation is fearful and the authorities are bad people.

Perhaps the better approach is to say that it is a lie and that, as a lie, it is intrinsically wrong. However, when one is under duress or sees no clear way to avoid a consequent grave evil or injustice, one’s culpability for such a lie is lessened. It seems rather doubtful that God would make a big deal of the sort of lie you describe on Judgment Day.

But to call any lie good or justifiable is to harm a moral principle unnecessarily. Call it what it is: a lie. It is not good. And it is not permitted to do evil in order that good may come of it.

With this in mind it is better to say that what you describe would constitute a lie, lamentable but understandable. And given the gravity of the situation, there would not likely much if any blame incurred.

Life sometimes presents us with difficulties that are not easily overcome. But to adjust moral principles to accommodate anomalies is to engage in a kind of casuistry that does harm to moral principles. Sometimes the best we can do is to shrug humbly and say, “Well it’s wrong to lie, but let’s trustingly leave the judgment on this one up to God, who knows our struggles and will surely factor in the fearsome circumstances.”

So there’s my view, succinctly stated. There was no room in the column to address the questions that might arise based on my answer, but I will do so here:

1. Is this the case even if someone does not have the right to know the truth?
   1. I am not sure it is right to say that someone does not have the right to know the truth. Certain matters may be no one’s business, but if that is the case then you should respond, “This is not for you to know and I will not answer.” But lying to such a person would not make the lie something other than what it is: a lie.
2. What about state-sponsored lying in matters of national security?
   1. Don’t ask me to call it good or not a lie. But the fact that every nation knows that the others are lying is a factor. This does not make it good or not a lie, but would tend to make the practice less egregious and lessen the culpability of the officials who engage in it. In a big, bad world, permit me to shrug on this one—but don’t ask me to call it good, or virtuous, or not a lie.
3. What about undercover investigations by the police or journalists that use assumed identities or present false information or intentions?
   1. Here, too, don’t ask me to say that telling a lie is really telling the truth. The fact is, it’s a lie. One should always seek to gather information in a straightforward manner. In criminal investigations the lie may be less egregious since most criminals are on their guard for exactly these sorts of tactics. But here, too, I would request that you not insist I call such practices good or even justifiable. I just don’t like being asked to say that it is permissible to do evil in order that good may come of it. The best I can do is to shrug and say, “Even though we live in a big, bad world, this is still lying. But it may not be the most serious sort of lying given the circumstances.” We all know it goes on. Let’s not call it good, but other things being equal, let’s not lose a lot of sleep over it either. There are big lies that cause grave harm and there are smaller lies that cause less harm. Not every lie is a mortal sin or equally harmful.

OK, now it’s your turn. But before answering, remember your Catechism:

A lie consists in speaking a falsehood with the intention of deceiving … To lie is to speak or act against the truth in order to lead someone into error … The gravity of a lie is measured against the nature of the truth it deforms, the circumstances, the intentions of the one who lies, and the harm suffered by its victims. If a lie in itself only constitutes a venial sin, it becomes mortal when it does grave injury to the virtues of justice and charity (CCC 2482 – 2484).

For my first assignment as a priest I was sent to a large parish located in a suburb just inside the Washington Beltway. At the time it was flourishing, with four well-attended masses each Sunday. The people there loved their parish and spoke with devotion of the former pastor who, though he had died a dozen years before, loomed large in the memories of both Church and neighborhood. He was from that generation of pastors who had an almost kingly status. He stood 6’4” and his physical stature was matched by his personality. He was so strong a leader and had such a booming voice that people swore you could hear him from outside the Church when he preached. Parishioners loved or feared him; city/county officials respected him and knew that little would be politically feasible without his support.

When I arrived, the congregation consisted mostly of older families headed by World War II veterans, many of them retired. They had worked at blue-collar and white-collar jobs, government jobs and industrial jobs at the nearby Navy Yard. They were proud and remembered the sacrifices it had taken to build the parish “after the War.” Indeed, the parish was one of those “factories” we used to build. The grammar school, a three-story solid brick structure, had once been filled with 1500 children. The church seated over a thousand and in the halcyon days of late 1950s and early 1960s the rectory housed five priests; the convent was built for 25 religious sisters and was full. Right next door was the high school, staffed by another religious order. In all, the parish stretched two blocks along the main street of that town. Thousands moved through its facilities each day.

But by the time I arrived in the late 1980s an era was ending. The demographics of the neighborhood had already begun to change in the early 1970s. A white (Caucasian), blue-collar community became steadily black (African-American) and blue-collar. Many longtime parishioners began to locate south of the Washington Beltway into southern Prince George’s County and northern Charles County. Yet through the 1980s, even though they moved farther and farther away, older parishioners and even their children (now adults with families of their own) remained intensely loyal to the parish. They often drove past several other parishes to come back to the family parish. When I arrived in the late 1980s, the neighborhood was 90% African-American but the parish was 85% white.

I learned over the years that when a parish starts to rely on “commuter” parishioners instead of those who actually live within its boundaries, two things happen. First, necessary changes to reach new neighbors are resisted. Second, attendance erodes as older members die. And while the children of the founding families may still have some loyalty to the parish, it tends to fade when the matriarch or patriarch dies; and the loyalty is seldom shared by the grandchildren.

Add to all this the fact that during the 1970s and 1980s large numbers of Catholics fell away from the practice of the faith. With each passing year the numbers dropped significantly. By 1995 the average Sunday attendance had fallen below 1000 and the downward trend continued from there; today 400 is typical.

The scenario above has been repeated in countless congregations throughout the country, especially in the Northeast and Midwest where demographic shifts have been seismic.

Demographic shifts are generally not something that parishes can control. However, there are internal issues that can help or harm, especially when the issue is not depopulation but rather changing ethnicity or race in the neighborhood.

1. Avoid merely lamenting the passage of the “good old days.” Scripture says, “For here we have no lasting city” (Heb 13:14). Change is part of life. The parish may once have been Polish, or Italian, or black, or white, but now it is changing. One thing, however, has not changed: there are still human beings who need to hear the Gospel and be saved. No less than in the past, we need to go out and meet our new neighbors, welcome them, and proclaim the primordial call: Come to Jesus.
2. Catechesis is critical. Most Catholics have little instruction that the entire world is divided up into parishes. Every parish has a pastor and a territory. Since there is only once Church, the Pastor (together with his parish to help) is the shepherd of every human person within those boundaries: Catholic or Protestant, Christian, Muslim, Jew, or atheist. The parish has a responsibility to connect with every man, woman and child in their boundaries and invite them to know Christ, through his Word, Sacraments and his Body the Church.
3. Connecting with actual neighbors is crucial. In my own parish, due to demographic shifts involving race, we became very disconnected from our neighborhood. Most parishioners were “commuting.” Our actual neighbors knew little about us and we knew little about them. In order to try to address that, twenty teams of us went out to meet our neighbors and listen to them. It meant reaching across racial divides and generation gaps (most of the neighbors were young, single adults). Older African-Americans met with younger, single white neighbors and invited them to come and see our parish. One thing we learned was that our Mass schedule was not convenient for many of our new neighbors. In response, we added a Sunday evening Mass, which has become very popular and is growing. In so doing, we showed our neighbors that we heard their concerns and cared about them.
4. Challenges are not always bad; they can help people and parishes gain strength. I have seen parishes, including my own, rise to the challenges. We grew stronger in witness and we reached people we might never have reached had we not been called out our comfort zone. I know of one parish in nearby Maryland that became quite empty and sleepy when demographic change swept away many of its original members (blue-collar, ethnic whites). But today it is a bursting at the seams; there is standing room only at the main Sunday Masses and hundreds of children attend Sunday school. Parishes have lifecycles if they are willing to adapt, retool, reach out and welcome new members, speak new languages, and listen to the needs of new neighbors.
5. Organic change and growth is usually best. While parishes should not be overly resistant to change, it does not follow that radical change is healthy either. Adding new things that reach new people and groups need not mean neglecting those who have been the bread and butter of the parish. Respecting those who have loyally attended over the years is important. People matter, not just numbers. In my own parish, adding a new Sunday evening Mass has meant that the liturgical format at our principal Mass can continue as well.
6. Continuing to rely on “commuter parishioners” and niche marketing alone is not healthy. The genius of Catholicism, and its mainstay, has been geographically based parishes that minister to and are responsible for their neighbors. Some parishes can survive for a time on folks who have moved away but come back each Sunday, but they are living on the fumes of a receding past; I have never seen this model work for more than 15 – 20 years. Other parishes seek to survive through niche marketing; some examples of this are offering special forms of the Mass such as Latin, or Gospel Music, or certain special language or ethnic outreach. Here, too, such things seldom last and cannot survive personnel changes or further demographic shifts. The prevailing model has been and continues to be that parishes must be connected to neighborhoods. Since human beings have bodies, proximity matters. Getting to a distant parish becomes problematic over time and is affected by things like weather, age, gas prices, and the general hurried pace of modern life. There may always be some who willingly drive past five other parishes in order to come to their favorite one (with a liturgy or pastor they like), but in general this sort of model cannot sustain parishes for long.

I know that posts like this provoke controversy. People and priests get very attached to particular parishes and formats and to what is familiar. But after forty years of working in parishes as choir director, organist, seminarian, priest, and pastor, I can say that all of them have changed in profound ways over the decades. I have seldom found a parish locked in commuter mode or niche marketing that remains strong and healthy for long without deep connections to their actual neighbors.

It is true that certain parishes (e.g., shrines, or those in downtown settings with few Catholic residents) may have a stable focus or need to do specific things to attract congregations. But for most parishes the meat and potatoes is going to have to be the people who actually live in the area. They are, after all, the people a parish is supposed to reach. When a parish prefers to reach other people, or despairs of reaching its actual neighbors, it strays from the will of Christ, who bids us to go unto all people and nations and make disciples. And if a parish strays from its job as Christ has set it forth, can it expect to be blessed? Well, you decide.

I suspect that some of the comments to this post will be ones that defend a particular scenario that is at variance with the “neighborhood model.” You are free to do so, but at least factor in the traditional stance of the Church: divide the world into territorial parishes and ask each parish to tend to its particular vineyard first. Does your parish meet that goal? Even if you are from a “national parish” (which is rare today), the mandate to go into the whole world, starting at our front door, cannot be set aside. The Church should never be a “strange building” in a neighborhood. It is not an island set apart. Rather, it is an oasis in the desert of every neighborhood, deeply connected to its neighbors and their salvation.

In today’s gospel the Lord gives us a very practical reminder: “The measure that you measure to others will be measured back to you.” What does this mean?

Well, if you were on your way to court and you received advice as to how you could influence the judge to be less severe in your case would you not seriously consider following that advice? Surely you would—unless of course the “advice” involved bribery or some other corrupt activity.

And in fact Jesus, our judge, has described an upright way by which we can avoid severity on the Day of Judgment. Simply put, the way is for us to show mercy to others.

Now I don’t know about you, but I am going to need a lot of mercy on the Day of Judgment! So I am very glad that the Lord has shown us how we can positively influence the outcome on Judgment Day. Consider some of the following texts:

1. Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy (Matt 5:7).
2. For if you forgive men when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive men their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins (Matt 6:14-15).
3. Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. But mercy triumphs over judgment (James 2:12-13).
4. If a man shuts his ears to the cry of the poor, he too will cry out and not be answered (Proverbs 21:13).
5. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven (Luke 6:37).
6. For the measure with which you measure others, will be the measure by which you are measured (Mark 4:24).
7. And finally there is the terrifying parable (too long to quote here) of the man who owed a huge debt to the king that he could never repay. And although the king cancelled the entire debt, the man refused to cancel the debt of a man who owed him a smaller amount. To this unmerciful man the king then decreed: ‘You wicked servant,’ he said, ‘I canceled all that debt of yours because you begged me to. Shouldn’t you have had mercy on your fellow servant just as I had on you?’ In anger his master turned him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed. “This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother from your heart” (Matt 18:32-35).

So the basic point is clear enough: if we want to be shown mercy when we are judged (and trust me, we’re all going to need a lot of it), then we need to pray for a merciful heart.

Let’s even go so far as to say that if anyone is harsh, mean-spirited, unforgiving, hypercritical, or condemning, he is a fool. He is simply storing up wrath for himself on the Day of Judgment. Now why would anyone want to do that?

Mercy is our only hope of avoiding strict judgment. And these texts show us that mercy here in this world will lead to mercy on Judgment Day.

It is true that there are times in this world when punishments must be issued and penalties assessed. Further, correction must be given to those in error. But to the degree that these are made with an eye to correction and reform, they are part of love and relate to mercy. Fraternal correction is a work of charity. It is better to suffer punishment in this world that leads to reform, than to evade punishment here and possibly end up in Hell. Thus, not all punishment/correction is excluded by the edict of mercy, but let love and mercy be the sources from which it comes.

So here is some advice to the wise: bury the hatchet now. Ask the Lord for a merciful and forgiving heart or else suffer the full force of a strict judgment. Pay attention! The judge is willing to be influenced on our behalf and has told us what will move him in our direction. Why hesitate any longer? The merciful are blessed because will be shown mercy. And without mercy, we don’t stand a chance.

In this series of two posts, I ponder the glory of something we call order. I do this more in the form of a meditation than a treatise on the glory of order. In the first part (yesterday’s post) I set forth how the appreciation and understanding of order has suffered in the modern age. In this second part I want to meditate on the glory of order under four headings.

The English word “order” comes from the Latin ordo, which is a row or series ranked in some intelligible way. It indicates that something is arranged methodically toward some desired end or purpose. To give someone an order is to give authoritative direction for the purpose of attaining a willed outcome.

God has ordered all of creation. Things work together intricately to attain goals and fulfill purposes. And though this is evident to us who are believers, and should be evident even to those who do not believe in God, “order” can be a difficult thing to get our mind around. Therefore, permit me to paint four pictures or experiences of order drawn from the philosophical tradition. Again, my purpose is more meditative than intellectual. I hope to inspire in myself and in you, dear reader, a joy and serenity about the beautiful gift of order.

Here are four pictures of order:

I. Life is ordered energy. Consider the order of any living thing and be amazed. Some mysterious force we call “life” brings atoms, molecules, minerals, nutrients, tissue, and so forth together and organizes them with astonishing complexity (especially in higher life forms). Whole systems, macro- and micro-, interact in multiple ways and at many levels and thereby order (i.e., direct) living things to their purpose and goal. Life is ordered energy.

If you think you have life figured out, think again. Take a very simple example. Imagine an acorn. Now imagine a stone of similar shape and size. Externally they may look alike. But in the acorn is the mysterious spark we call life. Put the stone in the ground and years later nothing will have happened; it will still be a stone. But put the acorn in the ground and that mysterious spark we call life interacts with warmth and water. Years later the result will be a mighty oak tree with all of its complex processes up and running as it draws moisture and nutrients from the soil, and interacts with the environment around it through photosynthesis, pollination, and so forth. Life is ordered energy.

Take away that mysterious force we call life and disorder sets in almost immediately. I have experienced this mysterious departure of the organized energy we call life at more than a few bedsides. When someone breathes his last and the mysterious spark we call life departs with the soul, what exactly has happened? Scientifically, all we know is that the signs of life are gone. But the body does not weigh any less; we do not see a force lift up and move away. Something is gone, but not something that science can detect or measure. This is true even with the death of animals, trees, and plants.

Once that mysterious spark or force we call life departs, the body ceases to function in any orderly way. Processes stop, disorder and decay ensue, and the body (or life form) literally falls back to its basic elements. Life is ordered energy.

What a glorious thing is the order that life gives! The amazing interactions in our bodies at every level are simply astonishing. Life is ordered energy, but its origin is very mysterious. Surely it depends on the One who said, “I am life” (Jn 14:6), and who is existence itself. Surely someone sends life forth and summons it back. That someone we call God.

Of the LORD, Scripture says, See now that I myself am he! There is no god besides me. I deal death and I bring to life, I have wounded and I will heal, and no one can deliver from of my hand (Deut 32:39). The LORD brings death and makes alive; he brings down to the grave and raises up (1 Sam 2:6). Life is ordered energy.

Thank God for the mysterious and glorious order He gives to us that becomes life.

II. Beauty is the splendor of order. To see order and delight in it is to see a beauty beyond description, a beauty so vast and wide that our minds cannot comprehend it.

This is what we call the gift of wonder and awe, which is annexed to the gift of the fear of the Lord. We hold in awe the One who has done such things and established such order and purpose in all creation.

That order extends from the smallest units of matter outward and upward to the farthest reaches of the cosmos. Within our body, too, exists an order of multiple levels from the smallest parts of cells up through every structure and process of our body.

Order is beautiful and beauty is the splendor of order. Even in the narrower sense of human beauty and sexual attraction, the sense of beauty is connected to proportion, integrity, and clarity. In other words, we appreciate the way that different aspects of a person are integrated into the whole of who he/she is, how they are proportionate to each other, and the way that they allow the person’s humanity to shine forth physically in a way that attracts us.

All this, the beauty of the cosmos and the beauty of the human person, bespeaks order.

Yes, beauty is the splendor of order shining through! And thus we should bless the One whose beauty and order is reflected in what He has made! An old hymn says,

Lord of beauty, thine the splendor
shown in earth and sky and sea,
burning sun and moonlight tender,
hill and river, flower and tree:
lest we fail our praise to render
touch our eyes that they may see.

Beauty is the splendor of order.

III. Virtue is ordered love and desire. All of us are aware within ourselves of many passions, desires, and drives. They are more than just feelings; they are deep drives meant to orient us toward what is good and necessary, and cause us to seek such things.

Of themselves, the passions are good. However, since the fall of Adam and Eve our passions are unruly and often misdirected. As such, they are disordered.

To call them disordered means that they are not ordered (i.e., directed) to their proper end. This can happen in different ways. They can be disordered by excess. Desiring too much food can lead to the disorder of many health-related issues. Some passions become disordered by directing them to the wrong end. Sexual desire is meant to orient us toward a person of the opposite sex for the purpose of procreation and to develop the intimate bonds necessary to properly raise children. But many direct their sexual passions inappropriately through things like pornography, masturbation, fornication, and homosexual acts. Since these sorts of acts are not ordered toward the proper end, they are said to be “dis-ordered.”

Virtue is ordered love and desire. That is, virtues help us to properly order or direct our desires and loves toward the proper goal and to avoid excessive or disordered things. Natural virtues help us to gain self-mastery, by which we order our lives aright. Supernatural virtues help us to live under God’s authority and follow his godly order.

Virtues are the good habits that help us to order our lives, respecting our desires but understanding their true end or purpose. This leads to a life that is orderly, proportioned, and happier.

Vices, on the other hand, are those bad habits that introduce disorders into our life on the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual levels. They hinder us from our goals and our purposes. They do not order our life; they disorder it.

Yes, virtue is ordered love and desire.

IV. Peace is resting in order. This is another beautiful picture, a kind of “payoff” of order. Peace is the experience in one’s life that everything that should be in our relationship with God and others is there. It is the experience of order and the capacity to enjoy it with the stable, serene confidence that God’s order is beautiful, good, and true.

With the gift of peace, we see how true God is, how wonderful is His plan, and how beautiful is the order that comes from Him. By this comes a resting in this disposition that we call peace.

On the contrary, disorder introduces anxiety and many other negative thoughts and feelings that tear us apart and make us unstable and unhappy. Sin promises pleasure today, but the bill comes due tomorrow; there is always the bill to be paid. Knowing this deep down inside robs us of peace despite the momentary pleasures that sin offers. The unrepentant sinner finds little peace and growing anxiety.

God’s order gives peace, even if it challenges us to change. Peace is resting in order.

Allow these four pictures of order to fascinate you. See the beauty of order; orient your life toward it and to find peace through it.

God’s bestowal of order, too often dismissed by the modern world, is indeed a very great gift. Receive it with gratitude. “Order, order, order in the cosmos!” And in us, too.

Here is a beautiful hymn that sings of the order of the cosmos: