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In times like these, filled with moral confusion and acts of terrorism (including the recent murder of a French priest by self-proclaimed “soldiers of ISIS”), it is natural to cry out “How long, O Lord!” Indeed, among the struggles that many face in their spiritual lives are anger with God and feelings of discouragement due to the seeming lack of relief from Him.

The knowledge that God can prevent bad things often leads to the expectation that he should. And then when such expectations are not met, resentment, disappointment, or anger can follow.

Sometimes our anger at God is obvious to us. At other times, however, it can manifest itself more subtly: depression, spiritual sadness, avoidance of God and spiritual things, loss of hope, or a reduction in asking things of God in prayer. Sometimes, too, we like to minimize our anger by saying that we are merely “disappointed,” or “frustrated.”

But the reality is that at times we are angry with God, sometimes very angry. What to do about this anger?

God Himself seems to say over and over again in the Scriptures that He wants us to talk to Him about it, to tell Him that we are angry, and to pray out of this reality in our life.

God actually models this in the Scriptures. The book of Psalms is the great prayer book that God gave to Israel. In the Psalms is enshrined every sort of human experience and emotion: joy, exultation, hope, gratitude, dejection, hatred, despair, and anger—yes, even anger at God. God Himself, through the Holy Spirit, authors the very prayers of the Psalms. He tells us, in effect, that every human emotion is the stuff of prayer. He models for us how to pray out of our experiences, not only of joy and gratitude, but also of despair and anger. God says that whatever you’re going through should be the focus of your prayer.

Thus, God tells us that even if we are angry with Him, we should speak to Him about it. And He does not ask us to mince words, to minimize our emotions, or even to speak politely.

One of the most common expressions of anger toward God in the Scriptures appear in what might be called the “usquequo verses.” The Latin word usquequo is most literally translated “how long?” And thus, in the Psalms and in other verses of Scripture, will often come the question, “How long, O Lord?”

While the adverb usquequo can simply be part of a straightforward question such as “How long until lunch?” it is usually used in rhetorical fashion, such as when one asks “How long?” in a plaintive and exasperated tone, as in “How much longer?” It’s as if to say, “O Lord, why do you let this awful situation go on? Where are you?” Thus, the word bespeaks not only disappointment, but also a certain feeling of injustice that God would care so little about us that He would allow such terrible things to go on for so long.

God knows that we sometimes feel this way. And even if our intellect can supply some possible reasons that God would allow bad things to go on, or that He is not entirely to blame for the mess that we’re in, still it is clear that our feelings often are not satisfied with any rational explanation. And we simply cry out, “How long, O Lord?

God knows this about us. He knows that we are feeling like this and wants us to talk to Him directly about it, to articulate it, and to pray out of this experience.

Here are some representative passages from Scripture:

• Psalm 13:1-2 How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?
• Psalm 6: 3-6 My soul is in deep anguish. How long, Lord, how long? Turn, Lord, and deliver me, save me because of your unfailing love. Among the dead no one proclaims your name. Who praises you from the grave? I am worn out from my groaning.
• Psalm 10:1-2 Why, Lord, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble? In his arrogance, the wicked man hunts down the weak, who are caught in the schemes he devises.
• Psalm 35:17 How long, Lord, will you look on? Rescue me from their ravages, my precious life from these lions.
• Psalm 44:24 Awake, Lord! Why do you sleep? Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever. Why do you hide your face and forget our misery and oppression?
• Psalm 89:46 How long, Lord? Will you hide yourself forever? How long will your wrath burn like fire? Remember how fleeting is my life. For what futility you have created all humanity! Lord, where is your former great love, which in your faithfulness you swore to David?
• Psalm 79:5-7 How long, Lord? Will you be angry forever? How long will your jealousy burn like fire? Pour out your wrath on the nations that do not acknowledge you, on the kingdoms that do not call on your name; for they have devoured Jacob and devastated his homeland.
• Psalm 74:10-11 How long will the enemy mock you, God? Will the foe revile your name forever? Why do you hold back your hand, your right hand?
• Psalm 94:2-3 Rise up, Judge of the earth; pay back to the proud what they deserve. How long, Lord, will the wicked, how long will the wicked be jubilant?
• Lam 5:20 Why do you always forget us? Why do you forsake us so long?
• Habakkuk 1:1-4 How long, Lord, must I call for help, but you do not listen? Or cry out to you, “Violence!” but you do not save? Why do you make me look at injustice? Why do you tolerate wrongdoing? Destruction and violence are before me; there is strife, and conflict abounds. Therefore, the law is paralyzed, and justice never prevails. The wicked hem in the righteous, so that justice is perverted.
• Job 7:18-19 Will you never look away from me, or let me alone even for an instant? If I have sinned, what have I done to you, you who see everything we do? Why have you made me your target? Have I become a burden to you? Why do you not pardon my offenses and forgive my sins? For I will soon lie down in the dust; you will search for me, but I will be no more.

Thus we see modeled for us that God wants us to say what we are feeling, to give voice to our anger. Why is this? First of all, He already knows that we are angry. He doesn’t want our prayer to be suppressed, pretentious, or phony. If anger is the “elephant in the living room,” let’s admit it rather than trying to pretend it’s not there. Second, expressing our emotions aloud often helps to vent them or at least to reduce their power over us. Suppressed feelings often become depression if they are not given respect and a voice. 

The biblical texts also model a kind of Jewish insight and practice known as “taking up a rib” (pronounced “reeb”) wherein one argues, complains, contends, strives, or pleads a case with God. Even early on in Scripture we see Abraham and Moses in (sometimes tense) negotiations with God (e.g., Genesis 18:16ff,  Exodus 3, Numbers 14:10ff). And thus the psalms and similar texts model a kind of “rib” wherein one asks God to deliver on His promises and expresses exasperation at His apparent delay in doing so. God the Holy Spirit models and encourages this sort of prayer by including it in the inspired text.

Mysteriously, God does not often answer the “Why?” that is implicit in our groans. But He is most willing to hear them. And sometimes it is our very groans that yield the desired relief. Scripture says, I love the Lord, for he heard my voice; he heard my cry, my appeal. He turned his ear to me, and thus, I will call on him as long as I live (Ps 116:1-2). Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy (Psalm 126:5). St. Augustine said, More things are wrought in prayer by sighs and tears, than by many words (Ltr to Proba, 2).

Our groans and soulful protests do reach God’s ears.

At other times when we protest suffering or evil, God gives a Job-like answer (cf Job 38 ff), in which He reminds us of our inability to see the whole picture. His answer is a kind of “non-answer,” in which He reminds us that our minds are very small.

Nevertheless, the point is that God instructs us to ask, to protest, “How long?” This instruction is a sign of His understanding—even respect—for our anger and exasperation.

It is interesting to note that God oftentimes takes up the complaint “How long?” Himself! It ought not to surprise us that God is at times “exasperated” with us. In a kind of anthropomorphic turning of the tables, He sometimes laments, “How long?” Here are some of those texts:

• Psalm 82:1 God presides in the great assembly; he renders judgment among the gods: “How long will you defend the unjust and show partiality to the wicked?”
• Jer 4:21-22 How long must I see the battle standard and hear the sound of the trumpet? My people are fools; they do not know me. They are senseless children; they have no understanding. They are skilled in doing evil; they know not how to do good.
• Jer 23:26-28 I have heard what the prophets say who prophesy lies in my name. They say, “I had a dream! I had a dream!” How long will this continue in the hearts of these lying prophets, who prophesy the delusions of their own minds? They think the dreams they tell one another will make my people forget my name …
• Matt 17:17 Jesus replied, “Unbelieving and perverse generation, how long must I stay with you? How long shall I put up with you?” 

So it would seem that God is willing to admit into prayer both our anger and His. Where there is love there is also bound to be some anger, for when we love, things matter. God would rather have us speak openly and honestly of our anger toward Him. He also often reveals His anger toward us. Vituperative anger, name calling, and cursing are in no way commended, only honest airing of the fact of our anger and the basis for it.

There is an old saying, “No tension, no change.” The simple fact is that God allows some tension in our lives and in our relationship with Him. One reason for this is that tension helps to keep our attention and evokes change. In instructing us to cry out, “How long, O Lord?” He invites us to take up the energy and tension of our anger and make it the “stuff” of our prayer. In so doing, our prayer is more honest, and it soars on the wings of passion. It keeps us engaged and energized; it fuels a kind of insistence and perseverance in our prayer.

Within proper bounds, and with humility presumed, anger in prayer has a proper place. God Himself both prescribes it and models it for us in the Book of Psalms as well as in other texts. Be angry, but sin not (Eph 4:26).

The video below is a wonderful musical setting of Henri Desmarets’ (1661-1741) Usquequo Domine. It is rather long, so you might want to play it in the background.

The translation of Psalm 13 sung here is as follows:

How long O Lord will thou forget me, must thy look still be turned away from me? Each day brings a fresh load of care, fresh misery to my heart; must I be ever the sport of my enemies? Look upon me, O Lord my God, and listen to me; give light to these eyes, before they close in death; do not let my enemies claim the mastery, my persecutors triumph over my fall! I cast myself on thy mercy; soon may this heart boast of redress granted, sing in praise of the Lord, my benefactor.

https://youtu.be/ds42GmRDNJ4

Original sin is that first sin of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, committed when they ate the forbidden fruit of the Tree of the knowledge of good and evil (Gen 3:1-7). And while it clearly involved both of them, Scripture and Tradition refer to it formally as the “Sin of Adam” or “Adam’s Sin,” not the “Sin of Adam and Eve.” It is also described as coming to us “through one man,” not “through a man and a woman.” Consider the following quotes from Scripture and the Catechism:

1. Like Adam, they [Israel] have broken the covenant—they were unfaithful to me there (Hosea 6:7).
2. Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, … death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam (Rom 5:12, 14).
3. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive (1 Cor 15:22).
4. All men are implicated in Adam’s sin, as St. Paul affirms: “By one man’s disobedience many (that is, all men) were made sinner””: “sin came into the world through one man …” (CCC # 402).
5. Following St. Paul, the Church has always taught that the overwhelming misery which oppresses men and their inclination towards evil and death cannot be understood apart from their connection with Adam’s sin … (CCC # 403).
6. How did the sin of Adam become the sin of all his descendants? The whole human race is in Adam “as one body of one man.” By this “unity of the human race” all men are implicated in Adam’s sin, as all are implicated in Christ’s justice (CCC # 404).

Again, why just Adam?

I want to propose several answers, not all of them politically correct. I am not indicating that everything I am about to say is the formal teaching of the Church; some of what I present is speculative. Hence I hope you will feel free to critique, add to, or subtract from what I have written.

1. Parallelism – St. Paul makes it clear that we are saved by Christ alone. This is because sin came through “one man” and hence we are saved by “one Man,” the Lord Jesus Christ. Just as in Adam all die, so in Christ are all made alive (cf Rom 5:17; 1 Cor 15:22). Parallelism makes it fitting that because we were saved by one Man, we were steeped in sin through one man. This argument is ultimately unsatisfying because it amounts to a kind of post hoc/propter hoc argument. We’re starting with the conclusion (that we were saved by one Man) and then developing the premise (that it is because one man sinned). But the New Testament guides and influences our understanding of the Old Testament, and it should. Hence there are two Adams, a “man-for-Man” parallelism. In this sense the first sin is fittingly called the “Sin of Adam.”

2. The Headship of Adam – Scripture teaches of the headship of the husband in marriage (cf Eph 5:22; 1 Peter 3:1; Titus 5:2; Col 3:18). When God ordained marriage, He stated that “A man shall leave his father and mother and cling to his wife and the two of them shall be one” (Gen 2:24). It is the man who leads the marriage and is its head. But this makes him ultimately responsible for what takes place in that marriage.

Our modern age tends to think of headship as a privilege, but Scripture speaks of it more in terms of responsibility and service (cf Mark 10:41-45; Lk 12:48). Thus, the headship of the husband brings to him the ultimate responsibility for what happens under his roof. This does not mean that his wife is necessarily without guilt, but it does mean that he must answer for what happens.

I am the head of my parish. Now if some members of my parish or staff do something wrong, the bishop does not call them; he calls me and expects me to handle the matter. I am ultimately responsible for what happens in my parish and must account for it, correct it, and accept that I share responsibility for what has happened. This may be because I failed to teach properly, or to exercise sufficient oversight or due diligence. It may not be entirely my fault, but as head, I must answer for it.

Hence original sin is called the “Sin of Adam” because he was the head of that early household and bore ultimate responsibility for what took place. Notice that when God was looking for them in the Garden after they had sinned He did not say, “Adam and Eve, where are you?” He said, Adam, where are you? (Gen 3:9) It is Adam who must render an account. Eve is not without blame, but God calls out Adam. Adam had headship and in this sense the first sin is fittingly called the “Sin of Adam.”

3. The “Complexity” of Original Sin – When we think of the first sin, we tend to think of it as simply the eating of a forbidden fruit. But I suggest to you that it was a little more complicated than that and involved Adam a little more than is commonly thought.

Adam had been placed in the Garden prior to Eve’s creation and had been told to work the garden and keep it (Gen 2:15). (Some translations say that he is to work in it and guard it.) After the creation of Eve, she has something of a long conversation with the devil, during which he spars with her, tempting her and ultimately causing her to fall.

Now during this time where was Adam? One would think he was far away, because the text does not indicate that he said anything. But in fact the text discloses that Adam was standing right next to her the whole time she conversed with Satan! Why this silence from Adam? One would expect Adam to say to Satan, “Why are you talking to my wife? What are you saying to her? Why are you trying to mislead her?” One would further expect Adam to dispute what Satan was saying and to defend his wife from this temptation and error. Surely Eve should not have had to answer Satan all on her own. She does well at the outset, but then weakens under his onslaught. Why does Adam not step in to protect Eve and to bolster her strength? Why does he not assist her in this struggle and defend her against this threat? Is his silence not part of the first sin? Is his omission not integral to the fall of them both?

Adam had an obligation to rebuff Satan and to guard his wife and the garden, but he remained passive. As head of the house, Adam had the primary responsibility of defending his household from all error, sin, and threat. Eve should not have had to face Satan alone. Adam was worse than useless; his silence gave strength to Satan’s arguments. Eve was not without sin, but Adam failed to assist her and to provide her the support she needed and deserved.

Thus the first sin involved more than merely eating the fruit; that was its culmination. Adam’s complicit silence was integral to the fall as well. It set the stage for the first sin. In this sense the first sin is fittingly called the “Sin of Adam.”

Well, that’s enough from me. Have at it. Add other points. Distinguish what I have set forth or wholly reject it if you wish. But ponder with me why original sin is called “the Sin of Adam

Let’s ponder a significant yet often overlooked text from Hebrews, which describes our most basic and primal fear. Our inordinate fear of what people think of us is rooted in an even deeper fear, one which is at the very core of our being. The Hebrews text both names it and describes it as being the source of our bondage.  In order to unlock the secret of the text, I want to suggest to you an interpretation that will allow its powerful diagnosis to have a wider and deeper effect.

Consider, then, this text from Hebrews:

Since the children have flesh and blood, [Jesus] too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might destroy him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil— and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death (Heb 2:14-15).

Now this passage is clear enough that the origin of our bondage to sin is the devil. But it also teaches that the devil’s hold on us is the fear of death. This is what he exploits in order to keep us in bondage.

When I explore this teaching with people I find that it is difficult for many to understand it at first. For many, especially the young, death is almost a theoretical concept. It is not something that they fear on a conscious level. This is especially so today, when medicine has so successfully pushed back the boundaries. Every now and then something may shake us out of our complacency (perhaps a brush with death), but as a general rule the fear of death is not something that dominates our thoughts. So then what is meant by the fear of death and how does it hold us in bondage?

Well, what if we were to replace the word “death” with “diminishment”?  To be sure, this is an adaption of the text (the Greek text (φόβῳ θανάτου – phobo thanatou) is accurately translated as “fear of death”). But it can help us to see what the text is getting at in a wider sense. It doesn’t take long to realize that each diminishment we experience is a kind of “little death.” Diminishments make us feel smaller, less powerful, less glorious.

What are some examples of diminishments we might experience? On one level, a diminishment is anything that makes us feel less adequate than others. Maybe we think others are smarter or more popular. Perhaps we do not feel attractive enough; we’re too tall, too short, too fat, or too thin. Maybe we resent the fact that others are richer or more powerful. Perhaps we wish we were younger, stronger, and more energetic. Maybe we wish we were older, wiser, and more settled. Perhaps we feel diminished because we think others have a better marriage, a nicer home, or better children. Maybe we compare ourselves to a sibling who has done better financially or socially than we have.

Can see how the fear of diminishment (the fear that we don’t compare well to others) sets up a thousand sins? It plugs right into envy and jealousy. Pride comes along for the ride, too, because we seek to compensate for our fear of inadequacy by finding people to whom we feel superior. We thus indulge our pride or seek to build up our ego in unhealthy ways. Perhaps we run to the cosmetic surgeon or torture ourselves with unhealthy diets. Perhaps we ignore our own gifts and try to be someone we really aren’t. Perhaps we spend money we don’t have trying to impress others so that we feel less inadequate.

And think of the countless sins we commit trying to be popular and to fit in. Young people (and older ones, too) give in to peer pressure and sometimes do terrible things. Young people will join gangs, use drugs, skip school, have sex before marriage, pierce and tattoo their bodies, use foul language, etc. Adults also have many of these things on their list. All of these things are done in a quest to be popular and to fit in. This desire to fit in is all about not wanting to feel diminished. And diminishment is about the fear of death, because every experience of diminishment is like a small death.

Advertisers also know how to exploit the fear of death/diminishment in marketing their products. I remember studying this topic in business school at George Mason University. The logic goes something like this: You’re not pretty enough, happy enough, adequate enough, or comfortable enough; you don’t look young enough; you have some chronic illness (depression, asthma, diabetes)—but just buy our product and you will be; you won’t be so pathetic, incomplete, and, basically, diminished. If you drink this beer you’ll be happy, have good times, and friends will surround you. If you use this toothpaste, soap, or cosmetic product, you’ll be surrounded by beautiful people and sex will be more available to you. If you drive this car people will turn their heads and be impressed with you. The message is that you don’t measure up now (you’re diminished) but our product will get you there! Just buy it and you’ll be happier, healthier, and more alive.

Perhaps you can see how all this appeals to greed, pride, materialism, worldliness, and puts forth the lie that these things will actually solve our problems (they will not). In fact, appeals like this actually increase our fear of diminishment and death because they feed the notion that we have to measure up to all these false and/or unrealistic standards.

It is my hope that you can see how very deep this drive is and how it enslaves us in countless ways.

This demon (fear of death, of diminishment) has to be named. Once named and brought to the light, we must learn its moves and begin to rebuke it in the name of Jesus. As we start to recognize the thought patterns emerging from this most primal of fears, we can gradually, by God’s grace, replace this distorted thinking with proper, sober, and humble thinking—thinking rooted in God’s love for us and the availability of His grace and mercy.

The text from Hebrews above is very clear to say that this deep and highly negative drive is an essential way in which Satan keeps us in bondage. The same text says that Jesus Christ died to save us and free us from this bondage. Allow the Lord to give you a penetrating and sober vision of this deep drive, this deep fear of diminishment and death. Allow the light of God’s grace and His Word to both expose and heal this deepest of wounds.

This video pokes fun at our fad-centered culture, which is always trying to make us feel inadequate.

Our intellect is our greatest strength and one of our greatest blessings, yet almost nothing gets us into as much trouble. Our strength is also our struggle. We think we know a few things, and indeed we do—a very few things.

The greatest intellects, if they have wisdom and humility, know this. St. Thomas Aquinas famously said,

In finem nostrae cognitionis Deum tamquam ignotum cognoscimus. (At the end of our knowledge we know God as unknown.) (In Boetium de Trinitate, q. 1, a. 2, ad 1um)

Henri De Lubac, a great intellect of the twentieth century, lamented,

There is probably no thinking person today who does not feel the shallowness and impoverishment of a certain kind of intellectualism and the barrenness of a certain abuse of the historic discipline … The dust and must of rational or positive criticism. … We have believed in the light, [but] we are rather bad at finding it, perhaps because we have, in the end, sought it only in knowledge and interest (The Drama of Atheist Humanism, p. 85).

I suppose by “interest” he means self-interest. That is, we have sought the light of truth not for its own sake, but for what it can do for us. De Lubac longed and hope for a

… return to the golden age of medieval thought, that of St. Thomas and St. Bonaventure … restoring the climate of mystery that was eminently the climate of patristic thought … relearning, if not the use, at least the understanding of symbols … going back to the deep springs …  (Ibid).

And he advises, 

[We must be] cured of our infatuation for a world wholly explainable … (Ibid, p. 86)

And he warns,

As soon as man ceases to be in contact with great mystical religious forces, does he not inevitably come under the yoke of a harsher and blender force, which leads him to perdition? (Ibid, p. 90)

Indeed, welcome to the world of post-Christian secularism and atheism; usher in the tyranny of relativism, unmoored and drifting rapidly toward the abyss. Detached from God and the humility of mystery, we fall inexorably to our ruin, all the while arrogantly calling it progress.

As a final witness to the need for mystical silence before God, enter St. Bonaventure, whose feast we celebrated on Friday (July 15^th). Although he was a dogmatic theologian of the highest rank and would later be declared a doctor of the Church, St. Bonaventure held that our intellectual power, though always present, is inferior to that of the affections of our heart.

We see these insights on beautiful display in the following excerpt from his writings, featured in the Office of Readings for his feast day. As you read this, remember that St. Bonaventure was no anti-intellectual, just one who wisely and humbly recognized the limits of human thought.

Christ is both the way and the door …. A man … should gaze at him hanging on the cross, full of wonder and joy, marked by gratitude, and open to praise and jubilation.

Then such a man will make with Christ a “pasch,” that is, “a passing-over.” Through the branches of the cross he will pass over the Red Sea, leaving Egypt and entering the desert. There he will taste the hidden manna …

For this Passover to be perfect, we must suspend all the operations of the mind and we must transform the peak of our affections, directing them to God alone. This is a sacred mystical experience. It cannot be comprehended by anyone unless he surrenders himself to it. …

Seek the answer in God’s grace, not in doctrine; in the longing of the will, not in the understanding; in the sighs of prayer, not in research; seek the bridegroom not the teacher; God and not man; in darkness not daylight; and look not to the light but rather to the raging fire that carries the soul to God with intense fervor and glowing love. The fire is God. …

Let us … enter into the darkness, silencing our anxieties, our passions and all the fantasies of our imagination … saying: My flesh and my heart fail me, but God is the strength of my heart and my heritage forever. Blessed be the Lord forever, and let all the people say: Amen. Amen!

From The Journey of the Mind to God, by Saint Bonaventure, bishop (Cap. 7.1.2.6.6 Opera omnia 5, 312-313)

Once again, remember that St. Bonaventure was one of the great intellectuals of the Church and a great believer in doctrine. In this passage, his point is that doctrine without grace is just religious studies. Only by grace and humble silence can we pierce the clouds and see toward the purer light that is God.

Yet even our correction, that the intellect must be humble and balanced by mystical reverence, itself must come with a “warning label.”

Refuting the cynical agnosticism and atheism of the day, De Lubac says,

Contempt for truth can never be ours. … Our God is a hidden God indeed, but in himself he is light. “God is light, and in him there is no darkness” (1 John 1). So we refuse to make an idol of darkness (Op cit, p. 86).

We are not to be anti-intellectual. God reveals truths about Himself through creation and Scripture that can be known and must be insisted upon. But our acceptance of the darkness and the dark knowing of the mystical tradition is not an end in itself. For indeed the darkness will give way to the beatific vision, in which the glory of God will eternally unfold for us.

By the grace of faith, we know God, though for now it is in a mirror darkly (cf 1 Corinthians 13:12); we should admit this fact humbly. One day the darkness will fade and we will behold the Lord face to face. Now we know in part; then more fully, even as we have been fully known (Ibid).

Yes, our intellect is both our greatest gift and our biggest stumbling block. Only the humility and silence of the mystical tradition can unlock its greatest potential: moving toward God in deeper wisdom and understanding.

The LORD is in his holy temple: let all the earth keep silence before him (Habakkuk 2:20).