The Problem of Evil

Why the Problem of Evil Is Difficult to Answer

The problem of evil is one of the classic concerns/arguments raised against the existence of God.  "If God is all-powerful and all-good, how could there be evil and suffering in the world?  If God is all-powerful, he can eliminate the evil.  If he is all-good, he would want to.  So there should be no evil."  Personally, I do not find it to be a terribly difficult objection to deal with on an intellectual level, but it is very tough to respond to overall.  I think perhaps that one of the reasons for this is because it strikes hard on the emotional level.  The sufferings caused by the evils in this world are felt very deeply, and evil, as the hymn says, seems "oft so strong."  It is difficult, when one is the midst of experiencing great evil or suffering, to imagine how the allowance of such evils could be justified, or to see how any good could possibly counterbalance them.  Consider a novel as an analogy.  The characters in the novel, while in the midst of the apparent victory of evil (it is typical in a story for the power of evil to reach its greatest height, its victory apparently assured, right before the climactic "eucatastrophe"--as Tolkien called it--where good finally defeats evil), cannot imagine how evil could be defeated and good could possibly win.  (I think of Sam's great speech to this effect in The Two Towers movie.)  The end of the story is very difficult to conceive of from the vantage point of the middle of the story.

Because pain and wickedness are felt deeply, and because of the difficulty of envisioning the end from the middle, it is difficult for people oftentimes to give an unbiased intellectual hearing to answers to the problem of evil.  It feels like a betrayal or a trivialization of the greatness of the pain to hear someone make an argument for how the allowance of such evils in the world could be justified, or how the allowance of evil leads to a greater good.  No matter how intellectually convincing such arguments are, on an intuitive and emotional level, they feel woefully inadequate to the reality.

That is all very understandable, and yet, if we wish to get reality right, we must try to approach even this topic with sound, objective reason.  We must distinguish between what our feelings tell us and the intellectual merits of the arguments.  This is one place where the virtue of faith comes in.  Faith is believing to be true what one has good reason to believe to be true even when the appearances are against it.  I once heard the concept of faith illustrated by means of the idea of an airplane pilot flying through thick clouds.  The pilot's intuition, judging from the appearances out his window, keeps telling him that he is about to crash into a mountain, but his instruments tell him he is nowhere near the mountains and there is no danger on his current trajectory.  The pilot has to suppress his instincts and intuitions and trust his instruments.  (I have no idea if pilots actually experience situations like this, not having any experience with flying anything, but the analogy is still useful either way.)  That is how the virtue of faith works.  Our reason leads us to certain conclusions, and yet our instincts make these conclusions seem false.  We have to trust our reason over our intuitions and over the appearances.  But this can be very difficult, and we must be careful to give ourselves and other people what we and they need at the time.  The existence of evil poses intellectual challenges to the idea of God.  These challenges must be met by rational arguments.  But when people are in the midst of evil, they often need comfort, encouragement, pastoral care, and other kinds of personal and emotional support as much as or more than they need intellectual answers.  We cannot respond to the legitimate intellectual challenges by expressions of emotion or platitudes, nor can we properly comfort and encourage people simply by giving them intellectual answers to arguments.  Both of these have an essential role, but they must recognize their proper place.

A Response to the Problem of Evil

So here is how I think the Christian worldview can provide an intellectually-satisfying answer to the problem of evil:

God is the Supreme Being, the Creator.  He is also the Supreme Good.  He embodies the fullness of being, goodness, knowledge, wisdom, life, happiness, etc.  To know God is to know the fullness of joy and to be completely satisfied.  God himself exists as a Trinity of persons who delight in knowing and loving each other eternally.

God created the world in order to display and share his glorious perfections, to fill up the emptiness of the world with the joy of who he is.  As God's creatures, our ultimate happiness can come only from finally achieving the Beatific Vision - the joy of fully knowing God in eternal life, of which we only have a foretaste in this life.

But to know God fully, and to reach the joy of knowing God fully, one has to understand the nature of what God is not as well as what God is.  God is the fullness of being, life, goodness, wisdom, happiness, etc., so the absence of God, the opposite of God, entails emptiness, death, evil, foolishness, misery, etc.  That is why the opposite of God is hell, and hell is the destiny of beings who intentionally, with full understanding of what they are doing, cut themselves off from God (what Catholics call "mortal sin").  Hell is the natural as well as the just consequence of rejecting and opposing God, of not giving him the love that is due to him or finding our happiness ultimately in him.

In order for God to display and share his supreme goodness in and with the world, he has seen fit to allow evil and suffering to exist in the world.  Only by experiencing and understanding evil and suffering can we truly come to know God fully.  Evil and suffering are hateful to God, and yet he allows them to happen in the world to bring about the greater good of sharing the joy of who he is.  God is all-knowing and all-wise, so he knows what is best, and he only allows evil and suffering in the way and to the degree necessary to bring about the greatest good.  His plan for history, both in terms of the good he brings about and the evils he allows, is best suited to accomplish that greatest good.  The Supreme Good of who God is infinitely outweighs the worst evils that can happen in the universe, for while the evils and sufferings of this world are very great, God is infinitely greater.  We can understand this idea in general and see the reason behind it, but, with our limited knowledge, we rarely understand why God does or allows the particular things he does.  In fact, our own ignorance of the full meaning of what is happening is one of the things God allows in the world as part of his overall good plan.

God is not unjust in allowing the evils and sufferings he does.  None of us deserve any good from God, for everything we have, every aspect of our existence and life, is a free gift from him.  We are nothing in comparison to God or without God.  God is the supreme source of all being and goodness.  These things belong to him and to no one else.  God does not owe it to any being to bring it into existence, or to keep it from falling into evil or suffering when it does exist.  (Once God has freely brought us into existence, it is true that he naturally and justly respects and loves the existing beings he creates.  We are his works, and he owes love to us as such - not as if we own our own existence ultimately, but he loves that which he has freely made.  He loves the happiness of all beings and hates their suffering.  And yet our value as created beings does not give us a right to receive the ultimate goodness and happiness of the divine life.  God does not owe it to us to keep us from falling into sin and suffering.)  And not only that, but we are sinners.  Left to ourselves without his grace (the help that comes to us when God shares with us his own life and power), we inevitably fall into foolishness, weakness, wickedness, and misery.  Our first parents fell into mortal sin against God, and all their descendants come into this world following in their footsteps.  Only God's grace can turn us from mortal sin to supreme love to God.  God sent his Son--the Second Person of the Trinity--into the world in order to share with us his divine life and give us the means of deliverance from evil.  God the Son became a sharer in our humanity, uniting himself to us, so that he could absorb into himself all our emptiness, foolishness, weakness, sinfulness, and misery, sharing with us the fullness of his divine life, wisdom, power, goodness, and joy.  He has thus provided deliverance from our fallen condition, though the process of that deliverance takes place over a lifetime (and sometimes longer) and is usually painful (much like healing from a serious disease in a hospital is often a painful experience, though it leads to the revival of life rather than to death).  Left to ourselves, we are rebels against God and on the path to hell, but God in his grace gives us another path--the path back to him and to happiness.  Regenerated by his grace, in the end we will be full of God's goodness, beauty, and joy, and God will delight in our goodness and beauty as we receive a value infinitely above that which we have as mere creatures.  Thus God is not unjust in allowing the evils to come upon us that he does, and we must remember that he only allows those evils that are best for the overall good.  If we trust him in these things and follow him, though our way may be very painful, in the end it will lead us to what is best.

It also helps to remember that God is not oblivious to or aloof from our suffering.  He sees the bigger picture, but he also sees with absolute clarity all the smaller parts of that bigger picture.  Since he is fully aware of the feelings and experiences of all sentient beings, he experiences infinite empathy.  He is fully blessed and happy because he experiences the overall product of all his works, which is perfectly good and beautiful, but, unlike with us, his awareness of the whole does not cloud his full awareness of all the parts, and so he is fully with us in all our suffering.  This awareness is complemented by the Incarnation.  God became human and so has an added human capacity to empathize with us in our weaknesses and sufferings.  Christ himself took upon himself the full weight of human sin and suffering - and also overcame it through the power of his divine life.

I think the picture of reality described above shows how the existence of evil is not incompatible with the existence of an all-powerful and all-good God, and so answers the problem of evil.  The various points of this picture derive from the existence of the classical theistic God, and so if that God is shown to exist, these points all logically follow, as I have shown here (briefly) and here (more fully).

A Response to a Follow-Up Question

In order to shed further light on the problem of evil, I would like to follow up the above summary with my answer to a specific question regarding biblical morality which was asked of me in a different context.  Below is that question and my response to it.

“What about the killing of infants and animals in the Bible as they are swept up in God’s punishments.  For example, in response to the Amalekites’ attack on Israel a few hundred years earlier, God tells King Saul to wipe out all the Amalekites.  1 Samuel 15:1-3:  ‘Samuel also said unto Saul, "The Lord sent me to anoint thee to be king over his people, over Israel: now therefore hearken thou unto the voice of the words of the Lord. Thus saith the Lord of hosts, 'I remember that which Amalek did to Israel, how he laid wait for him in the way, when he came up from Egypt. Now go and smite Amalek, and utterly destroy all that they have, and spare them not; but slay both man and woman, infant and suckling, ox and sheep, camel and ass.’ "' How can this be just?”

It is easier to see why God brings strong punishments on wilful sinners, particularly those who commit mortal sins (which involve a knowing and willing rejection of God as one’s supreme good and a turning away fundamentally from him).  If God is the Supreme Being, he is the Supreme Good, the source of all being and goodness, and so he is supremely valuable (as I argued in my case for the existence of God and my case for Christianity which I wrote up with Robert).  Therefore, rejection of him or opposition to him or contempt for him will be supremely bad and will naturally and justly reap supremely bad consequences (in other words, hell).  It is not surprising, in light of this, that God brings strong penalties on sinners in the Bible.  When God punishes sin, his punishments are not arbitrary.  With God, there is no ultimate distinction between a punishment or a reward and a natural consequence, for nature itself comes from God and his will.  God’s punishments are not arbitrary, but are logical and rational, in accordance with his divine nature and the very nature of reality itself.  He simply allows the sin to reap what it truly and naturally deserves and brings upon itself.  And his punishments are not unjustly harsh.  An Atheist or an Agnostic might see God’s punishments (whether in nature, in Christian theology, or in the Bible) as harsh, but that, I think, is partly owing to their assumption that God doesn’t exist.  If God doesn’t exist, he is of no importance, and so sin against him is no big deal, and so it doesn’t deserve or warrant any serious punishment or consequences.  But if God exists, as I said above, he is supremely important, and so sin against him is supremely serious, and the consequences of sin supremely dire.

But what about when God brings serious negative consequences on those who do not commit mortal sin or are incapable of mortal sin--like infants and animals?  Is this just?  We have to keep in mind that God is the Supreme Being and the Supreme Good.  He possesses all being, goodness, value, and happiness.  They belong to him.  They are a part of his divine life.  No one possesses these things other than him.  Apart from him, they do not exist.  Apart from God, there is only non-being, emptiness, death, evil, and misery, as I argued in my case for Christianity.  If any being who is not God experiences happiness, it is only as an unmerited gift from God.  We have nothing of our own that naturally attains or merits or warrants the happiness that is part of God’s own life.  Everything we have is a gift of God, and what we have as mere creatures is infinitely inferior to God.  Without the unmerited gift of God’s own life (which is what theologians call “grace”), we are doomed to evil and misery.  Although infants and animals are not capable of personal sin, they are part of the created and fallen world.  They do not naturally possess happiness or a right to happiness.  They are naturally prone to suffering.  (As created beings, they have value and we ought to love and respect them, as God does as well, and yet their created value does not give them a right to ultimate happiness or to be kept from falling into the suffering involved in a fallen world.)  When our first parents fell into sin, they brought the whole human race along with them, and, as St. Paul says (Romans 8), the creation itself is subject to the bondage to decay until it shares in the liberation of the children of God which comes through Christ.  Although infants do not commit personal sin, they are fallen creatures who do not deserve happiness, and, not being God, they are naturally subject to evil and misery.  God, for good and just reasons in his overall plan, has allowed the consequences of the Fall of our first parents to come to them and cause them to be born into the world without the grace of what Catholics call “original justice”--that condition in which grace kept our first parents holy and happy before they rejected it.  As a result of this, they share in the misery of their first parents to the extent they are capable of it, even as infants.  But they are also sinners in embryo.  When they grow up and develop the capacity for moral action, they will, without grace, grow up into mortal sinners themselves.  So, being part of fallen humanity, they share in their own way in the lot of fallen humanity.  Their suffering, however, cannot be the same or at the same level with the suffering of those who commit personal mortal sin, for God punishes no one for that which they do not deserve.

In the case of the adult Amalekites in the text, they had not lived at the time the Israelites came out of Egypt, so why are they punished for what their ancestors did?  As with the infants, I don’t think we should think of what happened to them as a “punishment” in the strict sense--as if God were blaming them personally for something they didn’t do.  Rather, he was simply bringing the consequences of their ancestors’ behavior upon them.  These Amalekites were fallen human sinners.  As such, they were already subject to death and the sufferings of this life.  If God, in his providential plan of history, chose to allow that to manifest itself by means of a link between generations--so that one generation reaped the failures of an earlier generation--there is nothing that can be shown to be unjust about that.  It is very similar to the case of the infants mentioned in the previous paragraph, but with the added element that these were adults who were personal sinners themselves.  And there is no evidence that they had repented of their ancestors’ actions or regretted them at all, or had changed in their basic approach to life (attacking innocent people and killing them, etc.).  For this reason as well it was not inappropriate for God to bring upon them the consequences of their ancestors’ sins.  In general, God often allows our actions to affect others and their actions to affect us.  Human beings are often the recipients of the consequences of other human beings’ good or bad actions.  The ultimate examples of this are all of us inheriting original sin from Adam and Eve, and those who are saved receiving the benefits of Christ’s atonement.  But in everyday, ordinary life, we often see less dramatic versions of the same basic principle, especially with parents and children (as children often receive great harm or great good from the actions of their parents).

What about animals?  They, too, are creatures and are part of this fallen world, though, unlike human infants, they are not sinners in embryo.  They will never be capable of moral action.  That capacity is contrary to their nature.  Still, they are not God, and so they do not deserve happiness, and they are justly subject to share in the consequences of being part of a fallen world, though they cannot suffer the same way that those guilty of personal mortal sin can suffer.  If God. for good and just reasons, has chosen to allow them to share in the calamities of being part of our fallen world, we have no basis to declare this to be wrong or unjust.

We can even think of adult humans who committed no personal mortal sin.  Of course, there are not many of those.  We can think of Jesus and Mary.  They could not suffer exactly the same way that those guilty of personal mortal sin can suffer, but they did suffer.  They could suffer because they were human and so were finite creatures, and also because they lived in the context of a fallen world.  (Jesus was, of course, God as well as human, but he was [and is] fully human.  He took upon himself the fullness of our humanity along with its weaknesses and frailties and sufferings, though in him that humanity was united to the divine nature.)  In the case of Jesus and Mary, and indeed any of us fallen sinners who, by grace, have repented and chosen to turn to God, our suffering can take on a voluntary and redemptive quality.  That is, we can willingly accept the suffering God providentially brings into our lives and choose to embrace the good that it leads to for ourselves, for others, and for the glory of God.  Christ voluntarily accepted suffering in order to overcome it and liberate others from sin and its consequences, and we who are in Christ are given the privilege likewise of offering up for the good of others our suffering and the virtues that are involved in suffering in pursuit of God.  God can use our suffering to help others in many ways, and we can be a willing part of that.

A closing note in general on this whole discussion of God’s punishments and negative consequences in Scripture.  When we discuss these things, we must be careful not to give an unbalanced emphasis to some things in the Bible over others.  This is especially something to watch out for when we do not really know the Bible very well.  There are lots of Atheists, I suspect, who know virtually nothing about the Bible except the “harsh” passages Atheists like to throw around.  But anyone who knows the Bible holistically is well aware that to think of the Bible as if it solely consisted of these “harsh” passages is to grossly misrepresent it.  In fact, the emphasis of the Bible, and of the Christian worldview grounded in it, is quite the opposite.  God is love (1 John 4:8).  Love is the chief characteristic of his life.  The members of the Trinity delight in their love for each other.  Love is what created the world, as God chose to let that Trinitarian love overflow into creation.  We are saved by love.  Our salvation from sin and misery has come about because God the Son died on the cross to save us.  He gave his life out of love for us and love for his Father.  God is “merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy” (Psalm 103:8).  And when God allows evil and suffering to happen in the world, and when he allows and ordains in his providence that evil reap its just and natural consequences, he is not acting contrary to love, but according to it.  When we love someone or something, we hate that which would destroy or defame what we love and value.  God’s punishment of evil is simply the flip-side of the coin of his love.  (Again, Atheists and some others see God’s punishments as arbitrary and cruel because they do not interpret them in their proper context, taking seriously that God is the Supreme Good so that sin against him is the supreme evil and calamity.)  God only allows evil when he knows it will bring about a greater overall happiness in the ultimate view, as it allows his divine life to be experienced fully and so loved and delighted in to the happiness of all who choose to embrace it.  The Bible is full of beautiful exhortations to love our neighbors, to love our enemies, calls to social justice (think of Jesus and the Old Testament prophets), calls to fairness and equity among all, etc.  Some of the most beautiful passages advocating compassion are in the Law of Moses (Exodus 22:21-25; 23:1-12; Leviticus 19:9-18, for example), and many more in the prophets, in the New Testament, etc.  So let’s remember to keep a balanced view of the whole context of Scripture and the Christian worldview when discussing these matters.

For more general apologetics for Christianity, see here, here, and here.

ADDENDUM 1/4/25:  I wrote up a more extensive article on these matters, which you can find here.

A Narrative of the History of My Thinking Regarding the Doctrine of Justification

My views on the doctrine of justification, per se, have actually remained pretty consistent since at least 2000 or 2001, around twenty years ago.  During my earlier Christian years, back during high school (early to mid 90s), I know I held a basically Augustinian doctrine of justification, which is basically the doctrine of the Catholic Church (as can be seen here and here).  During college (1996-2000), after I became significantly influenced by Calvinism, I thought a lot about the doctrine of justification.  I remember holding a view that I thought was faithful to the Reformed doctrine of justification but which took seriously the concerns of the Augustinian view, but I don't remember precisely what that view was or to what extent it really differed in substance from my earlier or my later Augustinianism.

But in 2000 or 2001, I remember very clearly coming to realize that the Augustinian view of justification was correct, and that this would bring me into conflict with the Reformed doctrine.  At that time, we (my wife and first child) had recently moved to Utah and had joined the Orthodox Presbyterian Church.  I was a gung-ho Calvinist (at least in terms of the "doctrines of grace," though I disagreed with some other aspects of the Reformed system) and a staunch enemy of Arminianism.  As I very strongly identified as a Calvinist and considered the Calvinist doctrines of grace to be expressive of what I felt was at the core of my theology and worldview, I was not particularly interested in disagreeing with Calvinists over the doctrine of justification, which is a very important doctrine and one which Calvinists often see as a lynchpin of their whole worldview (so much so as to basically consider any theology that doesn't hold to their doctrine on the subject not really fully Christian at all).  Nevertheless, I was strongly convinced that the Augustinian view was correct and the Reformed doctrine wrong, and I was not going to pretend otherwise.  I informed our pastor of my position, and he made some weak attempts to persuade me out of it, but no real conflict or rift arose out of the matter.  I was a great fan of Martin Luther's book The Bondage of the Will, and I had noticed that Luther seemed to hold an Augustinian view of justification rather than the later merely-forensic Protestant view that later Lutherans and Reformed would accept.  I read some other places in Luther which seemed to confirm me in this impression, so I was very interested to make use of Luther (and, of course, of St. Augustine) as an ally in my attempts to defend my position to my pastor as truly Christian and biblical and not inimical to the heart of the Reformed worldview overall (and even as a position more consistent with that very heart).  During this time period, which lasted from 2000 or 2001 to 2003, I wrote a paper defending the Augustinian view and critiquing the Reformed view.  I wrote the paper either in 2001 or 2002.  I know it was completed by April of 2002.  I gave it to my pastor to read.  I am very grateful that I kept track of that paper, which I also published on my blog much later in 2015.

As I mentioned, I was very interested in avoiding a rift between myself and the Reformed world over such an important doctrine, and so I tried very hard to think of how I might make my position seem more palatable to Reformed sensibilities or even to reconcile the two positions.  In the summer of 2003, I thought of a way to reconcile the positions.  The Reformed view says that we are justified--made righteous before God--only by the righteousness of Christ imputed to us (credited to our account), while the Augustinian view says that we are justified by the righteousness of Christ being infused into us by the Holy Spirit, making us actually internally righteous.  In the Reformed view, Christ satisfies for our sins and merits righteousness for us, and his satisfaction and righteousness become ours by a legal imputation which is complete and sufficient for justification apart from any internal moral transformation of the sinner (though the Reformed say that a person who is justified will be internally transformed as an accompaniment of justification).  In the Catholic view, Christ satisfies for our sins and merits righteousness for us, and that satisfaction and righteousness become ours by the Holy Spirit infusing their virtue into our hearts, causing us to repent and turn from our sins and to love God and our neighbors.  But I figured out a way that I could interpret the Reformed view to be consistent with the Augustinian view:  I could think of "imputation" as Christ's righteousness being, as it were, "deeded over to us," made ours (much as one might sign a contract and thus come into possession of a house, or a car, etc.).  Then, that righteousness is infused into us, making us actually righteous.  Since the righteousness by which we are justified is Christ's originally and not ours, and becomes ours only by a gift of grace, we can only come into possession of it if God graciously transfers it to our ownership.  So I took "imputation" to be God's transferring Christ's righteousness to our ownership, while I took internal sanctification by the Spirit to be God's applying that transferred righteousness to our lives and thus making us experientially what imputation makes us legally.  Justification and sanctification, in this way of thinking, would be like the difference between coming to own a house and coming to actually move into the house.  Or, to use a better analogy, it is as if, in order to get into some fancy club, one were required to wear a tuxedo.  I don't own a tuxedo, but a friend gives me one freely.  His decision to transfer the tuxedo to my possession would be the equivalent of justification, while my actually putting on the tuxedo would be the equivalent of sanctification.  If I want to get into the club, I cannot simply legally own a tuxedo; I must be wearing it.  But I can only wear it because it was "imputed" to me; that is, its ownership was legally transferred to me.

I felt that this way of reading the Reformed view was faithful to that view while also reconciling it with the Augustinian view.  As I had previously interpreted the Reformed view, it seemed there was a rift because the Augustinians held that one becomes right before God by an actual inward transformation of the moral character while the Reformed held that one becomes right before God merely and solely by a legal imputation exclusive of inward moral transformation.  But in this new interpretation, the gap seemed to be bridged.  We could be said to have the legal basis to be right before God by mere imputation, because by imputation alone Christ's righteousness comes to be legally ours; but, in actual experience, we require that righteousness to be infused within us and transform us before we will be acceptable to God's moral view.  The legal is not enough, because the legal would be merely a dead fiction unless what is legal also becomes experientially real.  And yet the legal is fully sufficient, not experientially, but legally.  The house does me no good experientially until I actually move into it, and yet the house is legally mine purely by the legal contract that deeds it over to me.  Thus the Reformed concern that legal imputation alone be the legal basis of justification is preserved, and so is the Augustinian concern that our actually, experientially, being righteous in the sight of God be a product of our actual moral transformation.

So I felt from this time forward that I could consider the Reformed view my own and use the Reformed language to express it.  I went on to become a ruling elder in the Orthodox Presbyterian Church.  Occasionally, I would preach or lecture on the doctrine of justification, and in such sermons and lectures I would express my own theology on the subject (as I did, for example, in this sermon from somewhere around 2010).  I always felt less hostile towards the Catholic doctrine of justification than most of my Reformed companions, because I knew that I myself could express my own doctrine in their Augustinian terms, even though I could also express it in Reformed terms.  My reconciliation with the Reformed position did not come from any doctrinal change on my part from my Augustinian views, but only from my ability to interpret the Reformed view as consistent with the Augustinian view.  (You can see here some documentation that illustrates what I thought about the Catholic doctrine of justification during this time period.)  For most of this time period (2003-2015), I felt I totally agreed both with the substance and with the form of expression of the Catholic Augustinian view of justification per se (while disagreeing on some other matters related to the doctrine), and I sometimes felt annoyed that the Reformed had such an antipathy to the Catholic view that I could not freely express myself in Augustinian terms without setting off unnecessary alarm bells.  Towards the very end of this period, perhaps from about 2014 to 2015, I began to think that maybe the Reformed had a point in objecting to the Augustinian terminology (but not the substance of the Augustinian view).  Perhaps St. Augustine's language, by not clearly distinguishing between imputation and infusion, led to a misunderstanding in which people might think that they gained justification, not by a sheer act of God's mercy granting to us what is not our own, but by somehow earning it by cooperating with God's grace and doing good works.  But I never thought that that was what St. Augustine or the faithful Augustinians who followed him, including many Catholics, really believed.

In 2015, I become convinced of the truth of Catholicism over against Protestantism.  (You can read my whole narrative on this here.)  Obviously, this led to a significant revival of my interest in the relationship between the Augustinian and the Protestant doctrines of justification.  I found my old Augustinian paper and published it on my blog.  Over the past few years, I've written several articles on the doctrine of justification.  Justification posed no problem for me in becoming Catholic, for obvious reasons.  I had already had for decades an Augustinian view on the subject.  My views on the nature of justification, per se, didn't have to change at all in substance.  And now I could speak with less constraint about my views regarding the Augustinian form of the doctrine and examine more publicly and directly in writing and dialogue the compatibility or lack thereof between the Catholic and the Reformed doctrines.  I began to put forward two different interpretations of the Protestant doctrine of justification--the one I held to before I learned how I might reconcile the two positions, and the one that enabled me to find such a reconciliation.  I eventually started calling the former interpretation the Anti-Augustinian view and the latter the Pro-Augustinian view.  (I laid out the two positions and introduced this terminology for categorizing them in this article.)  And I have been trying for some time to get my Reformed friends and acquaintances to dialogue with me about these subjects, wanting to see what they have to say about these two different interpretations of their doctrine, although, for some reason, I have found generally what appears to be a lack of interest in doing so.  I do not know if this comes from their thinking me disingenuous in raising the issue, as if I was pretending to want to dialogue only in order to try to convert them to Catholicism (this is false), if they are reluctant to engage with this subject because they are unsure themselves what to think about it, if they are simply very busy (which is understandable!), etc.

My interest in dialoguing with Reformed people on this subject has increased over the past year or so, because I have increasingly been coming to suspect that my so-called Pro-Augustinian interpretation of the Protestant position is not really consistent with the original meaning of the Protestant language and with how Reformed poeple have typically understood their own position.  I am beginning to think that, when I developed this interpretation back in 2003, rather than coming up with a legitimate interpretation of the Reformed view that allowed me to reconcile it with the Augustinian view as I thought I was doing, all I did was figure out how to express the Augustinian view--which, in substance, is contrary to the Reformed view, as I had previously thought--in Reformed language, thus hiding what would be fundamentally objectionable to the Reformed mind if it was understood what I really meant by what I was saying.  But I am still uncertain on this point.  I also suspect that there is perhaps some greater nuance here:  While the Augustinian view might be at odds in substance with the Reformed view, perhaps Reformed people hold a genuine mix of Augustinian and Reformed ideas in their thinking--not taking the Reformed view fully to its logical conclusion but watering it down a bit with Augustinian ways of thinking.  Perhaps it is this Augustinian element in the Reformed psyche that has made it easier for me to see the Reformed view and the Augustinian view as reconcilable, even if, strictly speaking in terms of the doctrines themselves taken to their logical conclusions, they are not.  But, again, I am not entirely certain on these points.  I feel I would benefit greatly from some real, substantial dialogue with Reformed people on this subject.

ADDENDUM 1/13/22:  I recently came across an email conversation I had back in 2001 with a Latter-day Saint friend in which I was trying to explain to him certain aspects of classical Christian theology.  In that email, among other things, I articulate my view at that time of the doctrine of justification and the difference between the Protestant and the Augustinian doctrines.  Here is a snippet from that email, dated 4/29/01:

Let me explain a little more cleary how works fit into salvation in my theology and in the theology of most Evangelicals (including BSF'ers). First of all, you mention that you know Christians have some concept of reward that nobody has as yet been able to quantify for you.  Well, let me do a little long-needed quantifying :).  There are two different understandings of the reward issue which are connected with two different doctrines of justification, the Augustinian doctrine and the Protestant doctrine.  I am an Augustinian, while almost all Evangelicals hold the Protestant view.  The Protestant view is this:  We cannot earn God's favor by our works, either before or after being converted by God's grace, for two reasons: 1. Our works in this life are mixed with sin and therefore are judged insufficient by God's standards and merit his condemnation rather than his favor, and 2. Even if we could do perfect works (and we will in heaven), they would not pass God's judgement for reward because they are judged in the context of all of our works.  So if you sin once, you have forever lost all possibility of earning God's reward by your works, because the sin destroys the perfection of your slate, and perfection is the only thing God accepts.  So how do works fit in?  Well, those who are regenerated by God's grace have a new heart put within them which causes them to do good works.  That doesn't mean that good works just "happen" to us without our will, because the new heart produces good works in us by giving us a new will which desires to do good works and therefore does them.  The impartation of a holy character within us which drives us to obey God always accompanies the forgiveness of our sins; you never have one without the other.  Not only this, but God, having forgiven our sins, now gives our good works a gratuitous estimate.  In otherwords, while truly speaking, our good works do not deserve God's reward, yet they are seen outside of the context of our sins (because they are forgiven) and thus they are gratuitously estimated and granted the reward due to perfectly good works.  This is how works fit in in traditional Protestantism. 

Now for Augustinianism (my view):  Augustinians hold, like the Protestants, that we can do nothing to earn God's favor, because we are sinners by nature.  However, Augustinians equate justification with sanctification. That is, we believe that God justifies us, makes us worthy of God's favor, not by simply gratuitously estmating our works in light of forgiveness, but by giving us a new heart which truly is worthy of God's favor.  We believe that, by God's grace, we are given new hearts to do God's will (in this we say the same as the Protestant view), and that the righteousness which flows from our new heart IN FACT does merit God's approval and favor (in this we are different).  This does not give us a ground for boasting, because while we do gain God's approval by our righteousness, yet this righteousness was not produced from us or from our will but is totally the gift of God's unmerited favor.  It is like if someone puts their money in your bankrupt account, you really do have money in your account, it is your money, you can really buy things with it, and yet it is not there because you produced it by earning it but because someone gave it to you as a gift.  So ultimately it is not your money but your friends, and you do not attribute it to yourself but to your friend.  Also, while the regenerate do have a new, righteous heart, yet our nature is not perfectly renewed in this life.  We still have the remnant of the old sinful nature with which we wrestle all of our lives, so we cry out in groaning like Paul in Romans 7.  But the God who began his work in us when we were yet dead in sin will not be stopped by remaining imperfections (however ugly, and they are that!) but will complete what he has begun, and this is our hope.  We do not please God perfectly in this life, but we are going in the right direction and this pleases him, and he will someday complete his work in us and make us spotless images of his perfect Son.  And he will then have a perfect delight in his reflection in us to all eternity as we delight perfectly in him.  If this discussion raises any more questions, do not hesitate to ask.  It is hard to be thorough and completely clear in this context.

My father was also involved in this conversation, and in a reply email to me (same date) he had this to say about my comments on justification:

That's a really good response.  One thing that I haven't been quite aware of, though, I guess, is the distinction that you are making with the "Augustinian" vs. "Protestant" positions on justification.  The "Augustinian" position, as you describe it, sounds a lot like the traditional Catholic position, as I understand it.  I thought you probably did not agree with that, or at least didn't agree completely.  And in this context, I assume that Calvin probably held the "Protestant" position, or at least something close to it.  Correct me if I'm wrong.

ADDENDUM 6/30/22:  A few days ago, I found an old CD which turned out to contain, among other things, a collection of documents I wrote up back in 2003 while I was coming to the conclusion that the gap between the Augustinian and the Reformed doctrines of justification could be bridged.  The writings document my attempt to process this question from the beginning, where I seem skeptical that the gap could be bridged, to the end, where I was just about ready to conclude that it could be.  See here for those documents and my commentary on them.

Is "Legal Righteousness" Something Ultimately Distinct from "Moral Goodness"? A Response to Charles Hodge's Defense of the Protestant Doctrine of Justification

Charles Hodge was one of the best Reformed theologians of the past couple of centuries.  He was brilliant and perceptive, and his ideas often have nuances and insights that are unique and very helpful.  Therefore, it is not surprising that one of the most interesting defenses, in my view, of the Protestant doctrine of justification should be found in his writings.  Catholics have historically criticized the Protestant doctrine of justification (understood in an "anti-Augustinian" way) as being absurd because it teaches that, in justification, God regards us as righteous not because we are actually righteous, but because Christ is righteous for us and his righteousness is counted ours by a legal imputation.  Catholics have typically regarded this view as a kind of "legal fiction," for it seems to involve God pretending that we are something we're not.  God can see that we're not righteous, and that our moral character is actually hateful to him and deserving of his displeasure, but, by a kind of legal trick, he decides to treat us as if we were perfectly righteous, completely morally pleasing, and worthy of pleasure and acceptance.  To get a sense of this, picture, for example, someone trying to pretend that Adolf Hitler was Mother Teresa and treating him as if he were.  This doctrine seems to involve God acting as if he is blind, playing games with the truth, etc.

Well, here is one of Hodge's responses to this objection:

Another standing objection to the Protestant doctrine has been so often met, that nothing but its constant repetition justifies a repetition of the answer. It is said to be absurd that one man should be righteous with the righteousness of another; that for God to pronounce the unjust just is a contradiction. This is a mere play on words. It is, however, very serious play; for it is caricaturing truth. It is indeed certain that the subjective, inherent quality of one person or thing cannot by imputation become the inherent characteristic of any other person or thing. Wax cannot become hard by the imputation of the hardness of a stone, nor can a brute become rational by the imputation of the intelligence of a man; nor the wicked become good by the imputation of the goodness of other men. But what has this to do with one man’s assuming the responsibility of another man? If among men the bankrupt can become solvent by a rich man’s assuming his responsibilities, why in the court of God may not the guilty become righteous by the Son of God’s assuming their responsibilities? If He was made sin for us, why may we not be made the righteousness of God in Him? The objection assumes that the word “just” or “righteous” in this connection, expresses moral character; whereas in the Bible, when used in relation to this subject, it is always used in a judicial sense, i.e., it expresses the relation of the person spoken of to justice. Δίκαιος is antithetical to ὑπόδικος. The man with regard to whom justice is unsatisfied, is ὑπόδικος, “guilty.” He with regard to whom justice is satisfied, is δίκαιος, “righteous.” To declare righteous, therefore, is not to declare holy; and to impute righteousness is not to impute goodness; but simply to regard and pronounce chose [sic] who receive the gift of Christ’s righteousness, free from condemnation and entitled to eternal life for his sake.  (Charles Hodge, Systematic Theology: Volume III [Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1940], 175, found here on the website of the Christian Classics Ethereal Library.)

The fundamental problem with Hodge's response is that he tries--with a good degree of rhetorical effectiveness, certainly--to separate and distinguish what cannot be distinguished: "legal righteousness" and "moral goodness."  But, while it is true that one can look at moral goodness from the vantage point of different aspects of it, sometimes emphasizing its intrinsic nature, sometimes emphasizing its evaluation according to a standard of law, ultimately "legal righteousness" and "moral goodness" are the same thing.  There's no reasonable way to construe them to be something ultimately or fundamentally distinct.  This can be shown by looking both at Scripture and at reason.

If we look at Scripture, we find that God has a moral law which is the ultimate standard of "righteousness" and "sin."  We also find that the righteousness which meets the demands of God's moral law boils down to love--love of God supremely, and then following from that love of one's neighbor.  Christ himself, of course, sums up the law in these two greatest commandments (Matthew 22:35-40).  St. Paul, likewise, makes love the summary of the law (Romans 13:9-10).  And this idea, of course, is rooted in the Old Testament (see, for example, Micah 6:8).  And this makes perfect sense if we look at how righteousness and sin are viewed throughout Scripture.  The moral law determines what brings God's wrath and what brings God's pleasure and acceptance (Ephesians 5:1-10, and throughout Scripture).  And the subject matter of the moral law is obviously of supreme importance to God, since it determines whether a person receives eternal life or eternal death.  Righteousness is that of which the moral law approves and to which it pronounces the reward of eternal life.  Sin is that of which the moral law disapproves and to which it pronounces the punishment of eternal death.  And the moral law reveals what God loves (what pleases him) and what he hates (what brings his wrath).  So what is righteousness?  What is it that God loves so much as to make it the determining factor between eternal life and eternal death?  It is an attitude of love to God and neighbor.  It involves outward actions (works), but the outward acts are important only as an indicator of inward attitude.  For ignorance diminishes culpability (Luke 12:47-48; John 9:41; etc.)  Why?  Because ignorance implies less evil will involved.  And bad actions that involve no will at all (like simple accidents) have no culpability.  Actions done by inanimate objects are not subject to the moral law--because there is no will.  So it is the attitude of the will that matters.  At the judgment, we will be judged according to our works.  It is not our outward actions that are being judged by themselves; it is we who are being judged for doing them.  If I commit murder, it is not the event of someone being killed which is judged--for a tornado can kill a man, but this is not a matter of moral guilt--but it is evil will manifested which is being judged (which is why, for example, the Law of Moses does not condemn a person who kills purely accidentally).  This is why, when we repent of our sins, put them to death, and turn to God, seeking to make up for what we have done and restore our right relationship with him, he takes that into account in his judgment of us.  Repentant sinners are fundamentally different from unrepentant sinners, because the former have renounced sin and embraced supreme love to God, and this fundamentally changes God's judgment of them.  (See Ezekiel 18:26-30, for example.)

But if the righteousness that is the concern of the moral law--which is what justification is all about--is an attitude of love to God, this is indistinguishable from moral goodness.  Scripture nowhere makes any distinction between "righteousness" and "moral goodness."  This is simply a fiction of Hodge's imagination.  All that Scripture describes is a kind of attitude--leading to actions--that pleases God, that he considers good and worthy of reward, and a kind of attitude--leading to actions--that displeases him, that he considers bad and worthy of censure or punishment.  Justification, in Scripture, is all about getting out from under the wrath of God and becoming morally acceptable to him.  But this involves moving from being in a condition that he finds displeasing to being in a condition he finds pleasing.  And what conditions are these?  They are attitudes of the will--supreme love to God, or lack of supreme love to God (and loving something else supremely instead, which is idolatry).

This is how Scripture talks about "righteousness" or "moral goodness."  And reason agrees.  Remember, when we talk about righteousness, we're talking about something that is of the utmost importance to God, since it results in eternal life or eternal death.  Well, what could be that important to God?  God loves himself supremely, since he is the Supreme Being.  He is the fullness and source of all goodness and happiness.  Therefore, he is going to love love to himself supremely and see that attitude as fit and worthy to receive ultimate happiness, and a lack of supreme love to himself, which involves loving something else supremely, he is going to see as fit and worthy to receive ultimate misery.  This fits with what Scripture says--supreme love to God is the heart of the moral law, of what truly pleases God.

And reason also points out to us that, while we can talk about legal categories, ultimately nothing exists besides that which is real.  If a legal category is going to have any ultimate reality or meaning, it must be rooted in something real.  Hodge talks about money as something that can be transferred from one person to another, and he asks why we can't just impute someone's righteousness to someone else just like we impute money from one person's bank account to another person's bank account.  But this ignores the crucial difference between money and righteousness (or moral goodness).  Money in a bank account may be a mere conceptual reality--a sort of practical decision to say that a person can make purchases of a certain amount.  When money is transferred from my bank account to someone else's, the reality is the conceptual transfer itself.  Nothing physical is necessarily actually being moved.  The reality is simply the conceptual number attached to my bank account and the other person's.  A transfer of money means simply that we've transferred the abstract number from one account to the other.  So there's the reality in that case.  (Although, even here, the abstraction is rooted in the reality of what the society will allow a person to buy or not buy--the social interaction is the true reality.)  But other things are more concrete and less abstract.  If I have brown hair and someone else has blond hair, I can't "impute" my brown hair to the other person simply by changing things on a sheet of paper (or in a computer spreadsheet).  The only way for someone to get brown hair is by their actually coming to have brown hair.  Mere "imputation" won't cut it.  It would be simply a legal fiction.  But righteousness is like hair color in this sense.  As we've seen, it is an attitude of the will, an attitude of love to God, as both Scripture and reason testify.  So we can't simply "legally impute" one person's righteousness to another person.  The only way for God to see me as righteous is if I am actually righteous--that is, if I have an attitude of supreme love to God.  That's what God loves most, and the only thing he sees as warranting eternal life.  The will, good or bad, is the ultimate reality that legal categories of "sin" and "righteousness" are getting at.  In a financial judgment, the reality that the judgment is interested in is simply the number that occurs in our bank account (and the social meaning such a number has).  In moral judgment, the reality the judgment is interested in is the attitude of will that we have inside (and which is manifested by the course of our lives, by the record of our works--and not just individual works by themselves but the whole trajectory of our lives, including our repentance from sin and restoration to goodness, moving from an evil attitude at odds with God to a loving attitude which seeks supremely to please him).

The great Reformed theologian Jonathan Edwards understood this:

The thing which makes sin hateful, is that by which it deserves punishment; which is but the expression of hatred. And that which renders virtue lovely, is the same with that on the account of which it is fit to receive praise and reward; which are but the expressions of esteem and love. But that which makes vice hateful, is its hateful nature; and that which renders virtue lovely, is its amiable nature. It is a certain beauty or deformity that are inherent in that good or evil will, which is the soul of virtue and vice (and not in the occasion of it), which is their worthiness of esteem or disesteem, praise, or dispraise, according to the common sense of mankind.  (Jonathan Edwards, Freedom of the Will, Part IV, Section 1)

If Edwards is right, then there is no real distinction, ultimately, between "righteousness" and "moral goodness."  But Edwards's view is the view of both Scripture and reason.

So Hodge's argument here fails because he tries to distinguish what cannot be distinguished.  Scripture, reason, as well as the general concept of "morality" as the idea occurs in the general discourse of the human race, do not allow any kind of real, ultimate distinction between "righteousness" and "moral goodness."  And they agree that moral goodness is not simply a legal abstraction like money in a bank account, but is ultimately an attitude inherent in the will of a person and therefore an inward moral character trait.

For more thoughts on why we can't separate the legal from the real when it comes to righteousness and justification, see here.  For a couple of articles addressing further how our repentance from sin plays a positive role in God's judgment of us according to his moral law, see here and here.  For more arguments for the Catholic, Augustinian doctrine of justification in general and against the anti-Augustinian Protestant view, see here and here.

Published on the feast of St. Eusebius of Vercelli and St. Peter Julian Eymard

ADDENDUM 8/30/21:  A couple more thoughts to add:

1. Hodge's attempt to distinguish between "legal righteousness," which has to do with our justification, and "moral goodness" as an internal trait, which has to do with our sanctification, is problematic for the Anti-Augustinian doctrine of justification.  According to that doctrine, the thing which makes us right with God is fully and only the imputed righteousness of Christ--the "legal righteousness" Hodge describes above.  We're supposed to be fully acceptable to God and to merit heaven by means only of imputed righteousness.  But if this is the only thing that makes us right with God and his moral law, then what is the point of this other thing, "moral goodness," which Hodge distinguishes from legal righteousness?  Does God have two moral laws, one of which is concerned with "legal righteousness," and the other of which is concerned with internal moral goodness?  If that is the case, then it seems to call into question the idea that imputed righteousness is all we need to be right with God.  Apparently, being right with God involves two parts and two different kinds of righteousness--one legal and imputed and the other internal.  Or is imputed righteousness indeed all we need to be fully right with God?  If so, then internal moral goodness would seem to have no moral point.  If the moral law doesn't care about it, then it's not really a moral entity at all.

2. Hodge might respond to some of my comments in the article by pointing out that, in terms of the moral evaluation of one's moral status, one's internal moral condition is not enough.  One cannot commit a crime in the past, causing great harm, and get out of paying up on the consequences of that act simply by having an internal moral conversion.  Thus, there is a real distinction between "legal righteousness"--which includes what we owe to the moral law for things we've done in the past--and "internal moral goodness."  The latter category doesn't fully cover the former one.

It is true that, in the moral system God has created, there is a need to "satisfy" for previous offenses and acts.  This is evident to human moral intuition as well.  If I did something to hurt someone by my past acts, when I come to repent of the evil will that led to those acts, I also feel myself responsible to try to fix and make up for the harm I previously caused.  And we wouldn't think my repentance genuine if I wasn't concerned to fix the harm of my previous acts.  And God has designed things so that repentance and internal conversion involve a facing up to what one was previously and one's previous acts.  In the Catholic system, an essential part of repentance is the willingness to make "satisfaction" for one's past sins.  However, this does not imply that "legal righteousness" is something ultimately distinct from "internal moral goodness" in the way Hodge envisions.  While God takes into account my attempts to satisfy for or make up for or fix my previous evil acts, it is still the internal will that he is evaluating, not something external to the will.  "Satisfaction" is simply part of the process of conversion that turns a previous evil will into a good will.  God's design requires that that conversion involve a facing of what went before (which makes sense, since we are temporal beings whose lives are a narrative).  But, in terms of God's moral evaluation of us, it is our will to satisfy for our past acts that matters, not how successful we are in actually making up for particular things.  We reject our sins and put them to death, hating our previous life and choosing a new life.  This involves trying to fix the particular harms caused by past acts, but these acts are not always fixable.  We can't restore a life taken, or always recover a lost friendship or a destroyed reputation, or pay back all that was stolen.  But, reason says, if we choose to do what we can, our moral status is the same, regardless of what we are able to successfully accomplish.  I am not a worse moral person if I try to restore a ruined reputation and fail than if I try equally to do so and succeed.  And Scripture nowhere indicates that success at repairing past harms is, in addition to the conversion of the will, a requirement for making us right before God's moral law.  Scripture rather focuses on the conversion of the will, our sorrow for past sins, our choice and effort to put our previous evil life to death and be reborn to new life, our repentant heart, as that which matters.  (Again, see, for example, Ezekiel 18:26-30.)  It is always the will which is the dwelling-place of moral guilt or virtue.  Again, even though tornadoes are often more destructive than people, we don't say that therefore there is more moral blame.  There is no blame at all, because blame lies only in the will.  And it's the same with moral virtue.  Even if a tornado could somehow fix all the destruction it caused, there would be no moral satisfaction or virtue, because there is no will.  When a person makes up for past errors, it's in the repentant will that the moral virtue lies.  The moral evaluation is entirely concerned with the condition of the will, and outward acts are only important insofar as they manifest that.

So, again, there is no basis for the idea of "legal righteousness" as something fundamentally distinct from the internal moral character of the will.

ADDENDUM 3/11/22:  Following up with #2 in the previous addendum, I would note that Catholic theology gives us a perfect system for combining the two observations we've been discussing--that 1. there is no ultimate distinction between "legal righteousness" and "moral beauty of will," and 2. that there is a kind of satisfaction required even for converted beings who did evil previously.  It's the Catholic distinction between the eternal consequences of sin and the temporal consequences of sin.  When you are in a state of mortal sin, you are at enmity with God.  Your will is evil fundamentally.  You've rejected the Supreme Good.  This condition puts one on a road to hell, and hell will be the destination unless there is repentance.  The will is evil, and in that state it is morally ugly to God and deserving of punishment and misery (both the moral and the natural or logical consequence of a will that has rejected and opposed the Supreme Good).  And it will remain that way until it is converted and ceases to be morally ugly.  Mortal sin deserves and leads to eternal punishment.  But when a will is converted to a state of friendship with God, the moral ugliness is removed.  God now finds the will pleasing, and thus deserving of reward and happiness.  It no longer belongs in hell but in heaven, for it is full of God's goodness.  Nevertheless, there is a narrative continuity between the converted will and the previous unconverted will; the same person used to be at enmity with God and is now in friendship with God.  And therefore the converted will must own up to and face the consequences of that narrative continuity.  The will must sorrow for its previous sins and repent of them, putting them to death.  Only through that death can it rise into its new life.  The person must acknowledge his previous sins, ask forgiveness for them, and seek to satisfy for them, to make up for them, as best he can.  (And, although I'm oversimplifying here and imagining the converted will as if it were perfect in every way, in reality conversion is a lifelong process where the person, now in friendship with God, must unlearn bad habits, learn new good habits, grow in the practice of the virtues, and in general learn to overcome the effects of sin and the Fall upon himself, and this is all part of learning to live a holy life.)  Catholic theology calls these remaining consequences of sin and the need to face up to and work to satisfy for them the "temporal consequences of sin."

There is a fundamental difference between the temporal consequences and the eternal consequences of sin, or between temporal "punishments" and satisfactions and being out of friendship with God and under condemnation of eternal punishment.  The temporal consequences of sin do not indicate that God still finds the will morally ugly, as being under a sentence of eternal punishment does.  Nor is God treating the converted will as if it itself is evil.  Rather, these temporal consequences and the need to satisfy for them are simply an expression of the narrative continuity between the old state of the will and the new state of the will and are necessary for the new will to come into its own.  They do not indicate that there is some kind of righteousness or unrighteousness distinct from the actual moral beauty or ugliness of the will.  There is a parallel here to the concept of original sin.  The whole human race inherits the consequences of Adam's sin, and yet no one but Adam is actually blamed for Adam's particular sin.  God does not view my will as responsible for Adam's sin as if it was the source of it.  As a descendent of Adam, I simply inherit the consequences of his choice because of the narrative continuity between Adam and myself as I am a descendent of Adam.  (And this sort of thing manifests itself all over the place in human life, as we see people receiving the good or bad consequences of what other people have done--especially children inheriting good or bad from their parents or ancestors.)  The parallel breaks down somewhat in that there is an even stronger narrative connection between my later life and my earlier life, since both parts of my life are part of the narrative of me personally and are thus part of my larger identity, and yet the parallel is instructive, for it shows how a person can carry the baggage of previous choices and actions without being seen as the morally ugly source of those choices and actions.  My later converted will (especially when perfected in heaven) is not morally ugly but morally beautiful, and God does not attribute the moral ugliness of my unconverted will to my converted will, and yet my converted will carries baggage from its previous state of being and must deal with that.

In short, while eternal punishment for mortal sin involves God seeing fundamental moral ugliness in the will and treating it accordingly, temporal consequences and satisfaction for sin imply no such thing, but only a need to deal with baggage due to the narrative continuity between the old state of the will and the new state of the will.  Thus, the concept of temporal consequences and satisfaction for sin does not imply any ultimate distinction between "legal righteousness" and "moral beauty of the will."  In the (Anti-Augustinian) Protestant view, however, even the will in heaven perfected by grace is seen as still meriting eternal punishment in hell in itself apart from an additional legal, imputed righteousness.  This does imply that God still finds even the perfected will morally ugly--unless, as Hodge tries to do, we will make an ultimately meaningless and incoherent, and rationally and biblically groundless, distinction between "legal righteousness" and "moral beauty of will."  But this is meaningless, since both the biblical and the rational and intuitive concept of "righteousness" simply means nothing other than "moral beauty of will."  An ultimate distinction between "legal righteousness" and "moral beauty of will" is just as absurd as trying to make some ultimate distinction between being legally accounted physically beautiful and actually being physically beautiful.  Being legally accounted physically beautiful can have no real meaning apart from a reference to actual physical beauty, and so, if the former is separated entirely from the latter, it becomes nothing but a meaningless and absurd legal fiction.

ADDENDUM 6/4/22:  Another problem is that if we owe something to justice in terms of being sorry for and trying to make up for (repair the damage of) our past sins, this debt, by its very nature, is something that cannot be paid by someone other than ourselves.  It is not something someone else can do for us in place of our personally doing it.  If I have an obligation in justice to be sorry for my sins and to try as best I can to make up for them, precisely because they are my past sins personally, this is not going to be satisfied by someone else being sorry for my sins and trying to make up for them for me.  Imagine if I were to get to the seat of God's judgment, and God were to say, "Well, he wasn't himself actually sorry for his sins, nor did he try to make up for them, but Jesus did these things in his place, so that's OK.  His debt is fully paid."  This is absurd, because we recognize that the whole point is that my will--the actual will of the person who actually committed the crimes--has the obligation to face up to what it has done, be sorry, and try to make amends.  This is all about me, personally, acknowledging and facing up to the consequences of my actions and the harm I've done, personally hating and being sorry for those actions as my own past actions, and trying to fix what I have messed up precisely because I was the one who messed them up in the first place.  It's that attitude in my will that is important, because it is an essential part of moral goodness that we hate our past sins and try to distance ourselves from them and fix them.  Again, as we pointed out above, this is not really about what we can fix objectively, since we cannot always repair all the damage we've caused and this is not fully under our control.  What this is about is an attitude required in a converted will that has an evil past.  Jesus cannot have this attitude for me, because the whole point is that the person who committed the crimes must own up to them and take responsibility.  If I myself don't have this attitude, I'm not paying the debt I owe in justice.  So the aspect of "satisfaction" that comes along with conversion can no more be transferred from one person to another purely legally than can the moral goodness of the will in general.

Why Do Protestants Think the Catholic Doctrine of Justification Is So Terrible?

One thing I've never been able fully to understand is the typical Protestant (especially Reformed and Lutheran) antipathy to the Catholic doctrine of justification.  The big question between these two views is whether or not we are justified by Christ's righteousness merely imputed to us (legally counted ours), or whether we are justified by its being infused within us (actually changing us inwardly and making us righteous).  (I am assuming, here, an anti-Augustinian understanding of the Protestant view.)

Even granting that these two views are really different from each other, and that if one is right the other must be wrong, and that the Catholic view is wrong, I still don't see why Protestants think that this error Catholics supposedly make is so great that it overturns the very gospel itself.  Many Protestants historically have seen the Catholic error on this subject as so fundamental that they say it means that Catholics don't have the gospel at all.  They say that the very gospel of salvation by grace through Christ and his merits requires the imputation view, and that without the Protestant view of imputation there is no gospel at all, but merely a damning substitute that puts man's righteousness in place of God's.  But why see this difference in so extreme a manner?  Even if Catholics are wrong that we are justified by Christ's righteousness infused and not merely imputed, they are still saying that we are justified not by our own native righteousness but by the righteousness of Christ given to us as a free gift.  It is still salvation by grace through the righteousness of Christ.  How does the mere fact that it is infused righteousness rather than merely imputed righteousness mean that we've switched entirely from salvation by grace through Christ's righteousness to a system of salvation by personal merit through one's own righteousness?

I am concerned that Protestants are operating here under a prejudice that doesn't even make sense granting their own view of justification.  Is this something that modern Protestants have simply inherited from the past and keep up without any real, substantial reason?  If so, perhaps it's time to reconsider it in the interest of truth and justice.

To see some of my own views on the Catholic doctrine when I was a Protestant, see here.  (I always thought that if there was any fundamental or soul-endangering doctrine in Catholicism relative to justification, it was related to the issue of free will rather than to the infusion doctrine of justification.  But I've come to see that Catholicism doesn't have a free will problem.  Of course, I should add that I've never held to an anti-Augustinian reading of the Protestant doctrine of justification, as can be seen by a sermon on justification I wrote up and preached while a Presbyterian elder.  But even if I did hold to an anti-Augustinian interpretation of justification, I don't see why that would have entailed the kind of extreme antipathy to the Catholic view that a lot of Protestants hold.)

Could it be that the Protestant antipathy to the Catholic view of justification comes from the antinomian roots of the Protestant view, flowing from Luther's views?  Luther seems to have been very concerned about any doctrine that would make internal righteousness and good works to have any bearing on one's standing before God, or even any view that would say that internal righteousness and good works are required by God of us.  He wanted to say that God requires nothing of us but faith alone (not even faith plus charity, or love of God, but faith alone).  Could the Protestant antipathy to the Catholic view be flowing from a distaste for any idea that smacks of righteousness actually being required of us in order for us to be in favor with God?  (Even though the Reformed, in particular, have tried to distance themselves from antinomianism.)

Perhaps the Protestant antipathy to the Catholic view flows from the genuine and right feeling that no matter how righteous God's grace makes us, even when we are perfected in heaven, we will never have a foundation to boast before God as if we deserved his favor.  All our righteousness is a free gift to sinners and not something we have produced on our own, and so we will always stand before God with the consciousness that we are there by grace rather than by our own personal deserving.  Are Protestants concerned that the Catholic view is that we should be boastful before God, demanding of him by right that he accept us because of our internal righteousness?  If that is their concern, they can lay it to rest, for Catholics agree with them completely that all our salvation is nothing but a free gift which we cannot boast of.  When we stand before God, we will be fully aware that, although Christ blood applied to us by the Holy Spirit has truly made us morally pleasing to God, yet all this is a gift of grace, and that we can stand before God only by his mercy in Christ and have no basis to demand or boast of anything.  If God gave us what we personally deserve and have a right to, we would deserve hell and not eternal life.  We are sinners saved by grace.  And yet God's grace in us does truly make us pleasing to God.  Christ's merits have a powerful efficacy when applied within us by the Holy Spirit.  Catholics are concerned that the Protestant doctrine loses sight of that.  The Council of Trent put these two ideas together beautifully in this sentence:

Neither is this to be omitted,-that although, in the sacred writings, so much is attributed to good works, that Christ promises, that even he that shall give a drink of cold water to one of his least ones, shall not lose his reward; and the Apostle testifies that, That which is at present momentary and light of our tribulation, worketh for us above measure exceedingly an eternal weight of glory; nevertheless God forbid that a Christian should either trust or glory in himself, and not in the Lord, whose bounty towards all men is so great, that He will have the things which are His own gifts be their merits.  (Council of Trent, Sixth Session, Hanover College website, page number removed)

In general, you can see the Catholic view spelled out in the Sixth Session of the Council of Trent, as well as in the Catechism of the Catholic Church #1987-2029.

For a critique of the Protestant doctrine of justification (understood in an anti-Augustinian way) and a defense of the Augustinian view (which is the doctrine of the Catholic Church), see here.  For another good statement of how Catholics find the extreme Protestant reaction to the Catholic view baffling, see here.  For a fictional dialogue between a Catholic and a Protestant on the doctrine of justification, see here.

Published on the feast of St. Eusebius of Vercelli and St. Peter Julian Eymard

Suffering, Dying, and Rising with Christ: Between Protestantism and Pelagianism

What shall we say then? Shall we continue in sin, that grace may abound? God forbid. How shall we, that are dead to sin, live any longer therein? Know ye not, that so many of us as were baptized into Jesus Christ were baptized into his death? Therefore we are buried with him by baptism into death: that like as Christ was raised up from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life. For if we have been planted together in the likeness of his death, we shall be also in the likeness of his resurrection: Knowing this, that our old man is crucified with him, that the body of sin might be destroyed, that henceforth we should not serve sin. For he that is dead is justified from sin. Now if we be dead with Christ, we believe that we shall also live with him: Knowing that Christ being raised from the dead dieth no more; death hath no more dominion over him. For in that he died, he died unto sin once: but in that he liveth, he liveth unto God. Likewise reckon ye also yourselves to be dead indeed unto sin, but alive unto God through Jesus Christ our Lord. Let not sin therefore reign in your mortal body, that ye should obey it in the lusts thereof. Neither yield ye your members as instruments of unrighteousness unto sin: but yield yourselves unto God, as those that are alive from the dead, and your members as instruments of righteousness unto God. For sin shall not have dominion over you: for ye are not under the law, but under grace. What then? shall we sin, because we are not under the law, but under grace? God forbid. Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey; whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness? But God be thanked, that ye were the servants of sin, but ye have obeyed from the heart that form of doctrine which was delivered you. Being then made free from sin, ye became the servants of righteousness. I speak after the manner of men because of the infirmity of your flesh: for as ye have yielded your members servants to uncleanness and to iniquity unto iniquity; even so now yield your members servants to righteousness unto holiness. For when ye were the servants of sin, ye were free from righteousness. What fruit had ye then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed? for the end of those things is death. But now being made free from sin, and become servants to God, ye have your fruit unto holiness, and the end everlasting life. For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.

      ~ St. Paul (Romans 6)

There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus hath made me free from the law of sin and death. For what the law could not do, in that it was weak through the flesh, God sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh, and for sin, condemned sin in the flesh: That the righteousness of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit. For they that are after the flesh do mind the things of the flesh; but they that are after the Spirit the things of the Spirit. For to be carnally minded is death; but to be spiritually minded is life and peace. Because the carnal mind is enmity against God: for it is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be. So then they that are in the flesh cannot please God. But ye are not in the flesh, but in the Spirit, if so be that the Spirit of God dwell in you. Now if any man have not the Spirit of Christ, he is none of his. And if Christ be in you, the body is dead because of sin; but the Spirit is life because of righteousness. But if the Spirit of him that raised up Jesus from the dead dwell in you, he that raised up Christ from the dead shall also quicken your mortal bodies by his Spirit that dwelleth in you. Therefore, brethren, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live after the flesh. For if ye live after the flesh, ye shall die: but if ye through the Spirit do mortify the deeds of the body, ye shall live. For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, they are the sons of God. For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father. The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God: And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.

St. Paul (Romans 8:1-17)

The Catholic doctrine of salvation lies in between the two extremes of Protestantism on the one hand and Pelagianism on the other.  (When I talk about Protestantism here, I am primarily thinking of the classic "magisterial" Protestant traditions, and especially the classic Lutheran and Reformed traditions.  And I am interpreting the Protestant position in an Anti-Augustinian way.)

To put it very simply, without getting into the complexities and nuances of the various positions, Pelagianism holds that we don't need Christ and his supernatural grace in order to be righteous.  God has given us free will, and so we are able to choose good or evil.  To choose good is to be righteous.  Therefore, since we have free will and can choose good, we can be righteous.  We don't need any more help than this.  For the Pelagians, to say that we need extra-added supernatural grace from God to be righteous or to choose the good is to deny the truth of universal human free will.  So, at least when it comes to becoming the kind of righteous person we should be, it's all entirely up to us.  Christ does nothing (in terms of any added supernatural grace).

The Protestant view is the polar opposite.  The historic Protestant (that is, the historic Lutheran and Reformed) view is that, in salvation, we are never made personally righteous--at least not enough to meet the standards of God's law and be declared righteous by that law.  But Christ lived a life of righteousness for us, and by his death he paid the penalty for our sin.  When we trust in Christ (which trust is itself a gift of God), Christ's payment of our penalty (his satisfaction of justice for our sins) and his positive righteousness that he worked out in his life are imputed to us (legally credited to our account), and on account of that righteousness we are declared by God to be righteous and become acceptable to his moral law.  Nothing we actually are or do adds anything to this; it is entirely a matter of imputation.  Protestants will go on to add that if we have real faith and are really justified by imputed righteousness we will indeed be inwardly changed, begin to do good works in this life, and be perfected in holiness after this life, but they insist that this inward righteousness, even when it is perfected in heaven, will never add up to enough to warrant a declaration of righteousness by God's law and so can never be the basis of our acceptance before God as righteous.  This basis will forever be nothing but the imputation of Christ's righteousness.  So, to put it simply, in the Protestant view, we do nothing to be righteous.  Christ does everything.  We don't have to be righteous and we never will be righteous; Christ is righteous for us.

The Catholic view steers right through the middle of these two extremes, preserving what is good in both.  It preserves Protestantism's conviction that our justification is entirely gracious in character, something that is not earned by us or produced by our own natural merits or resources but which comes to us rather as a free gift of grace through the redemption of Christ.  But it also preserves Pelagianism's belief that we ourselves must be righteous by choosing what is right with our free will.

How does the Catholic view fit these two strands together harmoniously?  The answer is right there in the Bible.  You can see it in the two quotations from St. Paul at the beginning of this article.  The truth is not that we must be righteous on our own without Christ.  Nor is it that Christ is righteous for us so that we don't have to be righteous.  The truth is that Christ lived a life of righteousness for us and died for our sins so that, his merits being applied to our lives by the grace of the Holy Spirit, we ourselves might become actually righteous.

We can see this in terms of satisfaction for sin as well as in terms of positive righteousness and good works.  Let's look first at satisfaction for sin.  In the Pelagian view, at least taken to its logical conclusion (not claiming necessarily that the historic Pelagius had so little room for Christ's death in his system), if we've sinned, only we can fix it.  We have to use our unaided free will to repent of our sins, to make satisfaction to God's justice, to repair the damage caused by sin.  In the Protestant view, on the other hand, only Christ can make satisfaction for our sins, and everything we can do is entirely worthless in this regard.  Christ paid for our sins by his death on the cross.  We don't need to do anything at all in terms of satisfying for our sins--repenting, doing penance, etc.  (Again, Protestants say we will in fact repent and turn away from our sins if we have true faith in Christ, but they say this has no efficacy whatsoever in satisfying God's justice for those sins or making us any more acceptable to God's moral law.)  Christ does it all for us, and we don't have to do anything nor can we do anything.

In the Catholic view, however, Christ made satisfaction for our sins by dying on the cross, but he applies that perfect and sufficient satisfaction to us by working it out within us through the Holy Spirit.  Christ suffered and died for us not so that we would not suffer and die but so that we can suffer and die to sin with him and rise to new life in the Holy Spirit.  It is not that our suffering and dying to sin adds anything to what Christ has done, as if his satisfaction was insufficient and we must shore it up by adding our own.  Rather, our suffering and dying with Christ is the way in which his perfect satisfaction is applied to us and accomplishes its purpose--severing us from sin.  Christ faced our sin, took it upon himself, endured its consequences, overcame it and destroyed it.  He did this so that, through the application of his Passion to us by the Holy Spirit, we might face our sin, own up to its consequences, definitively reject it and repent of it, endure the healing sufferings that come from being weaned from sin and being restored to a right relationship with God, and rebuild and restore that relationship through our own life of penance.  This is why the Catholic Church speaks in terms of penance and satisfaction when she talks about how we turn away from sin and restore our relationship with God.  Protestants have historically hated this kind of language and accused Catholics of "works righteousness" and not trusting fully in Christ because of it, but this is because they are looking at the Catholic viewpoint from their own skewed perspective which places Christ's works and our works in competition with each other rather than seeing our works as the application of Christ's work in our lives.  If the restoration of our relationship with God that has been broken by sin consists solely in what Christ does for us to the exclusion of what we do in him, then any talk of penances or satisfactions will seem to take away from the work of Christ.  But if we see what Christ does in us as an application and fruit of what Christ has done outside of us, then there is no competition.  It is precisely because Christ's satisfaction was so perfect that we are able, in our actual lives and experience, to repent of our sins, wean ourselves from them, put them to death, and rebuild a right relationship with God.  In the Catholic view, when we truly repent and turn back to true love to God, our relationship with God is fundamentally restored, but the full rebuilding of that relationship is not yet complete, as there are still imperfections that hinder the full realization of that relationship which we must strive against by the grace of the Holy Spirit for the rest of our lives, until God brings to completion in us what he has begun after this life is over.

With regard to positive righteousness, we see the same dynamic.  In the Pelagian view, we are righteous because we produce our own righteousness by our own natural efforts and free choices apart from any supernatural grace from God.  In the Protestant view, Christ lived a righteous life for us, and that is imputed to us, so we don't need to live a righteous life ourselves in order to be righteous before God (though, again, Protestants will say that we will in fact live righteously if we have true faith, but this righteousness does not meet the standard to be considered "righteous" by God's moral law nor is it necessary to make us right with God, since Christ's imputed righteousness is fully sufficient on that score).  In the Catholic view, Christ lived a righteous life for us so that his merits could be applied to our lives by the Holy Spirit, causing us to become righteous and live righteous lives ourselves and thus be pleasing to God and his moral law.  At the end of our lives, say the Scriptures, we will be judged according to our works, and rewarded or punished accordingly.  And yet justification is a totally free gift which we receive by faith in Christ.  How can both of these things be true?  Because all our righteousness and good works (and this includes our repentance and getting back up again when we fall into sin--so a righteous life is not necessarily a perfect life, but it is a life lived fundamentally, ultimately, and with final perseverance in honor of God) are not something we've produced from ourselves by our own free will and natural resources without supernatural grace, as the Pelagians say, but they are the fruit of the gracious work of the Holy Spirit in our lives applying the all-sufficient merits of Christ to us.  So it is all grace, and yet that grace does not exclude but rather is the ground of our own works.

To put it all simply, when it comes to being freed from sin and becoming righteous before God, for the Pelagians (again, looking at the logical consequences of their position) it is "We can and must do it all and therefore Christ does nothing."  For the Protestants, it's "Christ does everything, and so we do nothing."  In the Catholic view, it's "Christ does everything, and so we do it too in him."  To close with an analogy, imagine a person sick with a fatal illness.  Another person comes along who has something special in his blood that can cure the illness.  But in order for the cure to be operative, he must take the sickness into himself so that his blood can do the work of curing it.  So he joins himself to the sick man, mingling their blood.  He gets the sickness from the sick man's blood so that they are both sick, but the the special element in his blood cures the blood of both of them.  This would be the Catholic view (though it's not a perfect analogy, of course--for example, Christ doesn't become personally sinful himself when he takes upon himself our sins, though he does suffer under their weight and consequences).  The Pelagian view would be as if the sick man needed no help.  His own blood has everything he needs.  The Protestant view would be as if the healthy man could simply inject himself with the sickness and allow his blood to cure it in himself, and then, without actually doing anything inside the sick man to make the sick man's blood actually clean, he simply declares by legal imputation that his wellness now legally belongs to the sick man.  In the Catholic version of the analogy, the fact that the healthy man had to take the sickness upon himself and overcome it in himself does not rule out the need to have that cure applied within the sick man as well.  The two men are united together, so that both receive the sickness and the cure is worked out within each of them.  And yet the cure of the sick man is entirely an act of grace, for the blood of the healthy man which cures the illness is given to him entirely gratuitously.  The sick man has no natural claim on it at all.  It is a gift to him.  But the fact that it is a gift does not rule out that the path of healing might be long and painful, nor does it exempt the sick man from undergoing those healing pains.  But there is a fundamental, night-and-day difference between the pains of a fatal illness leading to death and the healing pains of a person being cured of that illness.  And so, as St Paul said, we must "suffer with Christ that we may be also glorified together with him."  Or as Jesus himself said, "Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal. If any man serve me, let him follow me; and where I am, there shall also my servant be" (John 12:24-26).

For more, see here and here.  For more examples of the Protestant tendency to come to error by exaggerating true and important things or by holding them in an unbalanced way, see here.  See also the sections in the Catechism of the Catholic Church which treat of grace and justification and the sacrament of penance.

Published on the feast of St. Lawrence of Brindisi