Our World

I have chosen you out of the world. Jn 15:19

Be not conformed to this world. Rm 12:2

Our world, the world we see, is a reflection of our self-image. We picture the world in the image we hold of ourselves. We see what we judge we are. We judge only our mirror. Our world is a world of judging; since judgment involves guilt, our world is a world of guilt.

We carry within us a massive amount of guilt, not only a behavioral guilt, but a more basic existential guilt — guilt not for our actions, but for our being. It is this primordial sense of guilt, not for what we have done, but for who we are, that colors all our relationships, shades everything we see.

Theologically, this fundamental guilt, this guilt we feel from the mere fact that we are human beings, is associated with original sin. This sense of guilt is based on the illusion of separation and alienation. And this illusion, namely that we are split off from God, is the basis for our dualistic thinking. It is the "bad dream" all humans dream. We mistakenly feel we are split off from God, others and even ourselves, and we are therefore not what we "should be"; we feel we are bad, wrong, inferior, guilty. To be more exact, this guilt could be called shame. It's our original shame.

Psychologically this phenomenon has been described in various ways. Alfred Adler saw all human beings as laboring under a burden of inferiority. Sigmund Freud saw human beings as burdened by the misunderstood or frightening sexual drives and experiences of childhood. But what is common to these explanations, be they theological or psychological, is an underlying sense of guilt and its accompanying fear of punishment.

* * *

We feel ashamed that we are not what we "should be," for we are just human beings. Our very humanness becomes a source of our guilt. We have opted to be like we "should be," that is, "like the gods," our idols ("eat the fruit and be like the gods").

Since our humanness falls short of our impossible goal (idols are never real), guilt and fear are our constant companions. It is through the lenses of this guilt and fear that we create the world we see. The outer world becomes merely a projection of our inner world. The world we see becomes nothing more than the reflection of the judgment we are placing on ourselves — "Guilty! Punishment due!"

We project onto others our interior split by which one part of us is judging the other part. People and situations become for us merely windows through which we see our inner division and alienation. Then we deceive ourselves into believing that our problems are outside of us.

But the conflicts we see as arising in other people and situations are a reflection of our self-condemnation, externalized onto other people and situations. The picture we take of others is the view we have of ourselves. When we see others are not what they "should be," it merely reflects what we feel — that we are not what we "should be."

So we see the world in terms of our dualistic, judgmental mind. Indeed, it is impossible for us to see the world in any way other than the way we see ourselves. The external world is our internal world. Since we are internally divided and separated we naturally see a divided and separated world. Since we place ourselves under judgment, we naturally place the world under judgment. If we see guilt and punishment as our due, we will automatically see the world as guilty and deserving of punishment. The world we see is definitely our world, for in it we behold ourselves.

* * *

Our world is the one we view from the perspective of our personal dividedness. We have invented an external world of conflict from our inner world of conflict. What we "should be" conflicts with what we are. Our internal dualism forms our model for judgment. Upon these scales we continually weigh what is right and good against what is wrong and bad. We carry around within us a paradigm of justice which we superimpose on everyone and everything. We have a definite game plan that encases all of reality, a certain set of rules that we lay on life.

Accordingly, we are continually judging others and situations: good/bad, right/wrong, innocent/guilty, should be/should not be, rewardable/punishable. This is the world we have created, a world of division and separation. We understand this world and feel at home in it. It makes sense to us.

Depending on our sphere of influence and our degree of power, we can manage and control our world to some degree. It may be stressful, even difficult at times, but it is at least understandable; it may be demanding, but it is workable. Workable, understandable, controllable, manageable — that's our world. That's the world that makes us feel secure. That's why we created it. That's the world we have made, the one we think "should be." It's a dualistic world of judgment and "should's," filled with guilt, fear and punishment, but it is the world we have chosen for the security it offers us.

Security and Fear

We created our world from what others told us, either through their words or actions; others who at one time provided our security. We are tied to our judgmental world with its guilt and punishment because we are tied to the people who formed us.

The basis for our judgments is founded on what we learned from these key people in our lives. These people make up "our gods." Parental gods, church gods, state gods, teacher gods, peer gods, friend gods. Eat the fruit and be "like gods" (Gn 3:5).

From these idols we developed our model of good and bad, of what "should be" and what "should not be." From them we developed our game plan, our set of rules which is the basis for all our judgments. These gods are now internalized; we carry them around in our head and look to them for support. Self-judging, with its guilt, fear and punishment, holds us and our world together. It ties us to our idols and keeps our relationship with the gods intact.

By judging ourselves we are obeying the gods. We are doing what they told us to do. We are knowing (judging) "the good and the bad." Judging is the very "stuff" of our security; it is the glue that bonds us to our guardians within. And no matter how painful or how destructive that bond may be, we don't want to undo it.

* * *

Closely connected with our need for security is fear. Fear arises whenever we feel we will be punished and/or abandoned by those whom we see as our protectors, our inner custodians. We are deathly afraid that in punishment for not being like we "should be," the bond with our idols will be broken and we will be abandoned, left to ourselves to face the harshness of life.

In the story of original sin, we see the connection between guilt, fear and sins in the sense that guilt and fear lead to our sins. Adam (literally, "the one from the earth"), in answer to God's question as to why he had hidden himself, said simply, "I was afraid" (Gn 3:10). Seeing himself as guilty and mistakenly thinking God would see him the same way, Adam became afraid and passed judgment on himself.

Adam (humanity) was afraid God would punish him for his "sin," so he hid himself. In other words, he moved against himself, he acted contrary to who he was. This destructive counter-motion is the root of sins. Each one of our sins is a going against our true selves. Moreover, our sins are begotten by feelings of guilt and fear.

* * *

Since there is a causal link between fear and sins, it follows that salvation, which is the removal of sins, must include the removal of fear. Accordingly, the Scriptures repeatedly describe salvation in terms of eradicating fear.

Salvation history began with the Old Covenant made with Abraham and God's words "fear not Abram" (Gn 15:1). When the New Covenant began, again the first words were "fear not": "Fear not, Mary" (Lk 1:30). Both the Old and New Covenants therefore began with "Fear not." When it came time for the birth of our Savior, an angel announced to the shepherds of Bethlehem, "Do not be afraid, for behold I proclaim to you good news of great joy" (Lk 2:10). And it was this "good news," or this gospel (since the words are synonymous), that Christ continually proclaimed during his public ministry.

In the four gospels there are approximately a dozen references where Jesus tells his hearers to "fear not." Of even greater significance is the frequency of "Do not be afraid," which is found in the post-resurrection appearances. "Do not fear" or its positive equivalent "Peace be with you" is the expression used to announce Christ's resurrection and the completion of our salvation. From even a cursory reading of the gospels, we learn that our salvation involves the elimination of fear. This is certainly good news!

* * *

It must be admitted, however, that there are certain verses of the Bible that speak of fear as good and even something to be desired. In the psalms we read: "The fear of the Lord is Holy" (Ps 19:10); "I shall teach you the fear of the Lord" (Ps 34:12); "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom" (Ps 111:10). But the fear that is spoken of in these psalms is not a servile fear; it is not the fear of punishment.

Rather this "fear of the Lord" is a profound reverence before God. It is respect tinged with awe, in beholding the goodness and love of God. Servile fear cannot exist with love, nor fear of punishment with friendship. Thus, shortly before the end of his earthly life, Christ told his followers: "I no longer call you servants ...but friends" (Jn 15:15). Christ sought to elicit love from his hearers, not fear; he wanted friends, not servants.

* * *

There is, nevertheless, one place in the gospels where it appears that Jesus is telling his hearers to fear God, or at least to fear the punishment of God. The gospel of Matthew (10:28) quotes Jesus as saying, "Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather be afraid of the one who can destroy both body and soul in Gehenna."

This statement raises the question as to whether or not God actually punishes us. In a later chapter we will discuss that question more thoroughly. May it suffice here to say that God is not mentioned at all in this verse. Jesus says only, "... be afraid of the one who can destroy both body and soul in Gehenna [hell]."

Most of us automatically assume that God is "The One who can destroy ..." This assumption says more about our mind-set than it does about God's revelation — for in the gospels, God is always depicted as the giver of life, not its destroyer. Besides, nowhere in any of the four gospels does Jesus tell us that we should fear God. On the contrary, rather than tell us we should fear God, Jesus boldly insisted that we call God "Abba." Although we translate "Abba" as "Father," it is, in fact, a nickname of tender affection more like our word "Daddy."

Of all the world's prophets and religious leaders, no one other than Jesus ever dared say that we should address God with such filial buoyancy and trust as "Abba" implies. To assume, then, that Jesus is identifying God, our "daddy," as "the one who can destroy both body and soul in hell" goes contrary to the whole tenor of his thought. This is especially true of what immediately follows those words.

There Jesus continues: "Are not two sparrows sold for a small coin? Yet not one of them falls without your Father's knowledge. Even all the hairs of your head are counted. So do not be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows" (Mt 10:29–31). The preceding verses (Mt 10:28) must be read in this context. To overlook this point by identifying God as our destroyer does violence to the very sense of the entire passage which is one of confidence in God's love along with fearless reliance on Divine providence. Abba is a life- giver, never a destroyer — one to be trusted, not feared.

* * *

We may question: "Whom shall we fear if not God?" Who is "the one"? Ourselves! We are to be watchful about ourselves! It is our own self- destructiveness that we must "fear," i.e., be on the alert about. For it is we alone who can destroy ourselves both physically and spiritually. We are to be on guard against deadly tendencies fermenting within us by which we truly can "destroy both body and soul in hell."

It is with this understanding of "fear" that we are to read these Matthean verses and also St. Paul's exhortation to the Philippians. "Work out your salvation with fear and trembling" (Ph 2:12). Again this does not mean we should be afraid of God. To so interpret "fear and trembling" would be to go contrary to the theme of this letter which has been called "the letter of joy." "Rejoice in the Lord, again I say rejoice" (Ph 4:4). "I rejoice greatly in the Lord" (Ph 4:10). Rather, "fear and trembling" is an Old Testament expression indicating "awe and seriousness in the service of God."

St. Paul is telling his new converts at Philippi that just as the true believers of the old dispensation lived their Mosaic law with watchful earnestness, so too the followers of Jesus are to take seriously their Christian vocation and pay diligent attention to the matter of their salvation. A Christian's joyful trust in God is meant to foster internal freedom, not be a cause for external laxity, and we have to be vigilant about that. We are therefore to work out our salvation with "fear and trembling."

* * *

Scripture's final word as to whether or not fear of punishment should be part of a Christian's attitude is found in the first letter of St. John, one of the latest works of the New Testament. In this letter, we find the most fully developed and mature understanding of Christian love vis-à-vis servile fear. "Love will come to its perfection in us when we can face the day of judgment without fear ... In love there can be no fear, but fear is driven out by perfect love ['Perfect love casts out fear' (RSV)] because to fear is to expect punishment and anyone who is afraid is still imperfect in love" (I Jn 4:17–18; emphasis added).

In the same letter is stated the reason there is to be no fear in a Christian's love for God. Immediately prior to the above we read, "We ourselves have known and put our faith in God's love toward ourselves. God is love and anyone who lives in love, lives in God and God in him" (I Jn 4:16 JB). To fear God would be a denial of God's love for us which, in effect, would be a denial of God, as "God is love." When we fear God we turn the true God into an idol; we turn our loving Abba into one of "the gods" whose function we feel is to judge and punish us.

And can there be any greater blasphemy? Is not to fear God and to separate ourselves from God's love the one "unforgivable sin" of which our Lord spoke? "Whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit [God's Love] will never have forgiveness but is guilty of an everlasting sin" (Mk 3:29). Our fear has made any forgiveness impossible because we don't believe in God's loving forgiveness. We don't believe God is love!

Conversely, and happily for us, to be free from fear is to be freed from the tyrannical lords of our own making. But as we have seen, there is a part of us that does not want to be freed from our idols and their "power." For the sake of our sense of security, we would rather live in guilt and fear before our "gods" than live in the freedom of God's love.

Because of our craving for safety, the path which leads from fear to freedom is difficult. So much so that in Christian spirituality the pathway to freedom is often referred to as the way of the cross.

The Cross

The cross frees us from our split judgmental world with its guilt, fear and self-punishment. The cross frees us from our inner alienation where the false self (who we think we "should be") punishes our true self (who we really are). The cross involves a refusal to move against ourselves, a refusal to punish or attack ourselves, a refusal to hold onto guilt and fear, and a refusal to stay in the hell of self-judgment.

The cross is the great paradox. It appears to symbolize pain, but actually the cross symbolizes the shedding of pain. Paradoxically, however, that shedding of pain is painful; letting go of suffering itself involves suffering.

How can the shedding of pain be painful? How can the refusal to hold onto suffering involve suffering? How can not hurting ourselves hurt so much? It is the same way that the shedding of the painful limitations of childhood (its dependence, anxieties, fears) and growing into the freedom of adulthood is painful. It is the pain associated with new life.