Although often depicted as a courageous rebellion against forces of intolerance and persecution, relativism is really cowardice. Because truth requires something of us. Pontius Pilate knew this. To acknowledge the truth would demand that he release Jesus and incur the crowd’s wrath. So he chose to avoid the truth. Then he dressed up his cowardice in a pseudo-philosophical inquiry: “Ah, but what is truth?”

So also today. Truth requires something of us. It requires humility to admit that we do not define reality, self-denial to reject our disordered desires, repentance to confess our errors. The truth about language demands that we speak honestly and not lie. The truth about sexuality means that we strive for chastity and defend marriage. The truth about human life requires that we protect the unborn. Many find it easier to deny truth than to take up these challenges. And, like Pontius Pilate, they dress up this moral cowardice in pseudo-philosophical questions: “Ah, but who is to say what marriage is … what sexuality is … what words mean? After all, what is truth?”

Cowardice is a dangerous thing. Physical cowardice gets men killed in battle. Moral cowardice destroys the foundations of society. It has produced what Cardinal Ratzinger famously termed the “dictatorship of relativism.” Not content to live their own lives without meaning, relativists insist that the entire society reject any objective truth about life, sexuality and marriage. Moral cowardice can be lived comfortably only when no one else announces truth.

In the face of such cowardice and dictatorship stands Christ the King. He summarizes His life in reference to the truth: “For this I was born and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth” (Jn 18:36). Similarly, John Paul II remarked that the most important word in the Gospels is “truth.” Not love, peace, or joy, but truth. Truth is the context, the atmosphere — the operating system, if you will — that makes the others possible. It is the stable environment that enables the others to flourish.

Love depends on the truth because it seeks to be definitive. The language of love — always, forever, completely, entirely — must rest on a solid foundation, not shifting sands. Without the bedrock of truth love becomes mere sentimentality, subject to the vagaries of situations and emotions. Without truth you cannot have true love.

Likewise, genuine peace cannot exist without truth. Peace comes about by a common adherence to something impartial and objective — when disputing parties reconcile by acknowledging an authority independent of them. If we cannot refer to objective truth, then disputes can only be settled by power — fiscal, political or military. If there is no such thing as “right,” then we have only “might” to end disagreements.

Finally, joy cannot exist without truth. It always comes from the outside — from something beautiful and real that is unbidden and unexpected. The relativist never experiences such joy because he has defined all reality according to his small mind and even smaller heart. The one in love with the truth finds true joy — the joy of finding something more than oneself, more than our minds can construct themselves, more than our hearts can hold.

A bit of the relativist lurks in each of us. We all labor under a fallen human nature and tend to compromise the truth so that life might go a little more easily. To the extent we imitate Pontius Pilate in this way, our love becomes colder, our peace disturbed and our joy dreary. To the extent, however, that we submit to the King of Truth our love increases, our peace deepens and our joy radiates.

Mark pointed out to his reader that Scripture is clear on life after death and that Greek philosophy is not our source for it. And Mark is certainly correct about that.

But I think the reader was perhaps asking a different question from what the source of our doctrine is, or I might be reading a different question into it due to the wording – “build certain beliefs from.” That seems to be not merely asking for the source, but for why Greek philosophical terms and concepts seem to be built into Catholic theology. They are. And the why of that might be approached by means of an analogy.

Besides the construction of her theology and institutional organization, for what other constructions is the Catholic Church famous? I have chosen the words of the question with precision, so that for most of you, images of the great Cathedrals and St. Peter’s Square will spring instantly to mind. For when we speak of Catholic constructions, these marvelous edifices are the epitome. Now, of what are they built? For the most part, they are built of stone – fitting for both its versatility of application and permanence. And how are they built? By the methods of builders who build with stone, of course. And here is the pertinent question: Did the Catholic Church invent the art of building with stone? No. of course not. She built (and builds) her churches from materials that humans have been building with for millennia and she employs the very best of the methods for using those materials. The Church was born, so to speak, where the techniques of building with stone were already at their highest level of achievement, in the Roman-dominated Hellenic world, where great public buildings –- and the kinds of organization necessary to plan, finance, and accomplish their exquisitely-crafted construction — were a fixture of every city. In the course of her own life over the past 2000 years, the Church has added to the development of stone craft and architecture, creating soaring structures that elevate the human gaze and prompt reflection about our relationship to God.

I submit to you that the same thing is true of thinking systematically about doctrine. Greek philosophy is not any more necessary for an encounter with Christ, for he preaching of the Gospel, or for the operation of the Catholic priesthood than are the great cathedrals. But since faith seeks understanding, Catholics from the beginning have chosen to think systematically about their faith. And where the Church grew up there was readily at hand, as ubiquitous as granite, the most versatile and permanent construction blocks for thinking that had ever been created by human beings – the Greek language and Greek philosophy.

More though is at work here than mere happenstance. Never once from Abraham to Jesus’ birth did the physical location and cultural surroundings of the chosen people not interest the God who was preparing them to bear his Salvation to the world. The diaspora (dispersal) into Greek culture of the Jews was hardly some accident out of the providence of the God who “divided the nations” and “appointed the bounds of people according to the number of the children of Israel” (Deut 32:8, Douay-Rheims). Even the great Hellenizer of the ancient world, Alexander the Great, was prophetically ordained (Daniel 2:39; 7:6; 8:5-7; 11:3-4). And what of that Greek mastery of thought? Do we say with Matthew Arnold that there was in the nature of man, “something that inclined him to Greek”? Perhaps.

Or better, we acknowledge with St. John that the very Logos is “the true light, which enlighteneth every man that cometh into this world” (John 1:9, Douay-Rheims). Now, Romano Guardini would have it that the Greeks were particularly graced with this light and specially prepared in thought for the conception of The Word — that there was a dual preparation of this world for the coming of the Logos, in both the Old Testament people and the Greek language and philosophy:

In order that this conception of the Logos, idea and source of all ideas, stand ready to serve sacred Christology, Greek thought labored for six centuries (The Lord, p 538).

In the course of her own life over the past 2000 years, the Church has added to the development of philosophy, making it the handmaiden of theology — that most elevated of human enterprises — seeking to know God in Christ, building the structure of her knowledge from the solid, polished, and exquisitely-crafted thinking of the Greeks.

Searching through the cemetery today was like looking for a needle in a haystack. There were no headstones — only plaques on the ground. It was a painstaking process to brush the leaves off of each stone so that we could read the names, searching for one that might be familiar. We only looked through one section. Amazingly, we actually did find my husband’s great-grandparents. He was so excited to find the burial place of these people he had never met! He took a picture of our children next to the stone.

This search for our ancestors only leaves me wanting to know more. We have pages and pages of information — names and dates and places of birth for people going back to the 1600s, yet that is all we know. It is amazing to think that if any one of these people wasn’t in this listing, my husband and I and our children would not be here. It took that particular combination of genes and parental influence to create each one of us. Good or bad, these people have contributed to who we are. They each played a part in God’s plan. Yet, we know so little. They lived and breathed and worked and loved and raised their children. Their lives mattered, yet their stories are lost forever.

Walking through cemeteries also always reminds me of my own impending death. This week’s Gospel (Mark 13:24-32) speaks of the end of time: “But of that day or hour, no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” The same holds true for our own personal deaths. None of us knows the day or hour that will be our last. Tomorrow is never guaranteed. All we have is today to make the most of. How we choose to use that gift of time is of vital importance.

As I wiped the leaves off of those grave markers today, I knew that many of those people had not been thought of in years. They had long since gone to their eternal destinations. I offered up a silent prayer for their souls. I know that one hundred years from now, I, too, will have been forgotten. To this world, I will be just a name and dates on a gravestone. Yet, like those that came before me, I, too, am part of God’s plan, made to know, love, and serve Him. I pray to fulfill that role well and to make the most of the time that He has given me.

My friend is part of a Catholic “prayer shawl club.”  They make shawls for the suffering, the sick and the grieving and with each row, they say a new prayer for the person for whom the shawl is being made.  This person is given the shawl, with a little note, and they can literally “wrap” themselves in prayer.

Both these efforts are examples of how God comes into the service that we do for Him.  It is love for Christ that motivates these efforts.  In all Catholic service, He ought to be with us in our starting, our ending and everything in between.

Mother Teresa got that right.  This tiny woman did great things for God.  God’s will was her motivation.  But she never proceeded without prayer.  For each day of daily service, there were four hours of prayer.

In Catholic service, we ought to be like Mother Teresa.  It’s true that most of us can’t stop our day to pray four hours a day.  But prayer should be part of everything we do.  Pray without ceasing, 1 Thessalonians 5:17 tells us.  Sadly, very good Catholics can get very busy doing very good things, but somehow leave God and prayer out.  The concern with this is that after a while, one starts to wonder who one is working for.  Once that’s forgotten, discouragement can begin to loom over the horizon of our difficulty; and pride over the horizon of our success.  It is as easy to start thinking thoughts like “This will never work” as it is to say “look at me and how much I accomplished!”  Note the key word “I.”  In truth, none of us can do anything without God’s help.  Christ said: “Apart from me, you can do nothing.” (John 15:5) 

Whether in the local soup kitchen, or in the home, we should see Christ in those we serve.  We see Christ in the suffering and needy, and that is what motivates our reaching out to those who suffer or are in need.  And it is much easier to see Christ in the suffering when we attach our corporal works to spiritual ones.  Praying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, or a Rosary, a novena, or intercessory prayer before the Blessed Sacrament for those whom we serve, or simply offering a little prayer toward the saints in heaven as we serve, can help bring the richness of our Catholic heritage to our service, draw us closer to those we serve and draw us closer to God as well.  When packing food baskets for the needy this thanksgiving or wrapping gifts for them this Christmas, will we be praying for them too?

Making rosaries is one way to serve the church and Our Lady.  One woman I know prays for those who will receive the Rosaries she makes.  Some teach the poor to make Rosaries, which many Catholics happily purchase.  It is good to share the “15 promises of our Lady to those who pray the Rosary” with those taught to make Our Lady’s Rosaries, and with others too.

The poor, needy and suffering are often closest to our Lord.  We can humbly ask those we serve to pray for us.  Without prayer, no matter what we do, or what progress we may seem at some points to be making, sooner or later we are bound to mess things up.  And once we Catholics start messing up in service, we also start messing with the purity and the sanctification of the Catholic Church.  “… Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given unto you,” Mathew 6:33 reminds us.

Service is not always easy.  It may sometimes be our cross.  But even when it is a cross, it can still be good.  Just as the crucifixion lead to the resurrection, so the little crosses we endure in service ought ultimately to lead towards the sanctification of our own soul, and thus the sanctification of the Catholic Church.

Thy will be done Father.  Guide me as I serve.  Without You, I can do nothing.  But I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

With a clientele such as this, it is easy to see why the issue of Petrine Authority passed down through the Papacy is of vital importance. As Protestant clergy, many of their membership have had to struggle with this issue: did the commissioning of Peter by Jesus in Matthew 16 as the Rock upon whom Jesus would build the Church continue after Peter’s death, was it handed on to his successors?

For many of our separated brothers and sisters, Peter’s authority died with him. But for us, as Catholics, we believe that this authority is not connected just with Peter the man, but also with the office that he inaugurated: the Papacy.

We seem to take it for granted that Peter is the leader of the Twelve. This is not merely because we look back through two thousand years of history where this principal has long since been established. Rather, looking into the Scriptures, we never see his authority challenged; he is always clearly in charge, at least after the Resurrection.

Some modern scholars, especially in Protestant circles, argue that this is because those areas where Peter was challenged were whitewashed out of the Scriptures. The argument follows that as the Papacy became established, the popes had the Scriptures redacted to remove any objectionable aspects. If so, why did they keep the immediate follow-up to the Commissioning of Peter where Jesus calls him Satan? If the popes had the ability to cleanse the Scriptures, certainly they would have gotten rid of Matthew 16:23!

The fruits of modern biblical scholarship do not support this thesis, either. Critical editions of the Scriptures outline all the various versions that have come down to us through the ages. The oldest fragments of writings of the New Testament date from the middle part of the Second Century, and these ancient sources corroborate very well with the Scriptures as we have received them today. Simply, there is no evidence to support the various claims or redaction.

Rather, we can take it on faith that Peter assumed the leadership of the nascent Christian community right from the start. We have no record otherwise. But the interesting question that drove the conversation at the Conference was: “How did Peter assume this authority so quickly, and without challenge?”

To find this answer, we return to the passage in Matthew (16:13-20) where Jesus gives Peter the keys to the Kingdom of Heaven. When we think of keys, it is easy to think just of the small ring of keys that we keep in our pocket, keys to the house, the car and the office. But this was not so in the time of Jesus. The key to the Temple was massive, a three foot long beam with a few prongs on the end to reach through the door of the Temple and unlock the gates. It was carried on the shoulder of the one who had possession, and he served in the name of the king or High Priest, and shared in the authority by virtue of the office he had.

As the Disciples heard Jesus give Peter the Keys to the Kingdom of Heaven, this was the image that they conjured, very clearly having Peter take on the authority of leadership by virtue of his office and in the name of Christ. These Keys are then passed down throughout the generations, even to Pope Benedict.

We are then able to trust that God has not left us orphans, but has provided an office by which we can know for sure that He is still with us. Let us rejoice in the Lord that we have been given so great a gift as the Papacy and Magisterium to safeguard and transmit the deposit of faith over these last 2000 years.

The Church, following the Scriptures, indeed teaches that Jesus will return in glory and this world as we know it will indeed come to a screeching halt, but not before a fierce, cosmic battle in which the Enemy makes his final bid for world domination (CCC 675-677).

But the last battle will not be the only battle.

The truth is that though nature’s four seasons continue to cycle serenely throughout the ages, and men and women, as in the days of Noah, continue to marry and be given in marriage, there is at the heart of history a continual battle going on.  In fact, the battle began before human history, when Michael and his forces swept the legions of Lucifer out of heaven.  There is a reason that we never get tired of love stories — love is of the essence of human life.  There is also a reason that we never get tired of war stories — war has been our constant companion and will be so till the last trumpet.

Many are puzzled when trying to interpret passages like this Sunday’s gospel, not to mention the entire book of Revelation.  Are Jesus and the inspired writers referring to the end of the world, or rather to the events happening in their own day, such as the destruction of Jerusalem and the persecution of the Church by the pagan Romans?

The answer is not an either/or but rather both/and.  The Antichrist is a future figure who will come at the end.  But he has also worn various masks over the course of time such as the Emperor Nero, Adolph Hitler, and Josef Stalin.  Under the surface of history, the battle is raging.  At certain moments, the fight takes center-stage in the evening news and battlelines become very clear — as in World War II or today’s abortion holocaust.

There are two big mistakes we could make here.  One would be to smugly deny this view of things as just so much apocalyptic hysteria.  The other would be to preoccupy ourselves with speculation over the future battle while neglecting to engage in the battle at hand.  Innocent pre-born babies are being slaughtered on a daily basis; thousands of Christians are imprisoned and tortured worldwide because of their faith, millions are exploited economically, and a secularist propaganda machine mounts a relentless attack on marriage and chastity.  Are we combatants in this struggle or do we sit by the sidelines reading the headlines?

Apocalyptic speculation is a waste of valuable time and energy.  Jesus clearly says “as to the exact day or hour, no one knows it” (Mark 13:32).  It is futile to try to figure it out.  But denying the reality of the current conflict or leaving the combat to others is also a waste of precious time.

We pray for the glorious return of the Lord, for him to come and right all wrongs and bring deliverance and eternal reward.  But our second reading says that “now he waits until his enemies are placed beneath his feet.” (Heb 10:13).  Often a sneaky enemy will not show his true colors and unleash his full might until his back is up against the wall. The final victory will be something that only the Lord himself will accomplish.  But it would seem that he will only come for the coup de grace when we, the members of his body, by the power of his grace, have helped to paint the enemy into a corner through our evangelism, intercession, works of mercy, and social activism.

As we approach the end of the Church’s liturgical year, it makes sense that we focus in the liturgy on the end of the story of salvation. Next week we will ponder the consummation of the world and crown Christ as king of heaven and earth. This week, through the readings and the prayers of the Mass, we anticipate the end times.

The readings describe for us four interrelated realities: the end of the world, the second coming of Christ, the gathering of the saved and the condemnation of the damned. The evangelist Mark uses apocalyptic language to describe these events such as depictions of great earthquakes and famines, and the stars falling from the heavens. The Book of Revelation speaks of seven-headed beasts and angels with six wings and eyes all over. “Apocalyptic” is a special style of writing which uses wild images and vivid symbols in order to convey realities beyond our experience. The images are not meant to be taken literally, but they are still very important because they point to deeper truths.

What are the truths that these images are teaching us?

First of all, the world as we know and experience it is coming to an end. Jesus speaks clearly: “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” Thanksgiving dinners, naps in front of the fire, Redskins victories (already happening?), exquisite sunrises … all these things will come to an end. Not because this world is bad. God made it, and He proclaimed it good. It will end because the Father has a bigger purpose for us; He has something much greater in mind for us. The blessings of this world are only a prelude to the blessings that God has planned for us in the life to come. “Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, nor has it so much as dawned on man what God has in store for those who love him.”

Secondly, Jesus will come again. “Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.” Jesus said on more than one occasion, “My kingdom is not of this world.” His kingdom will be brought to completion at His second coming. The first time He came, it was in great simplicity and humility. Jesus refused to force His Kingdom upon any human being. He insists that it be our choice. At his second coming, Mark says that it will be “with great power and glory.” There will be no question who is King of kings and Lord of lords. No one will wonder about the identity of Jesus Christ at the second coming.

Thirdly, Jesus will gather the peoples of every time and place, render His final judgment upon them, and invite the redeemed to share in the very life that He shares with the Father and the Holy Spirit. Our Lord will call home those judged worthy of heaven. It will be a great and glorious day for His faithful followers. In Mark, Jesus says of the Son of Man, “He will dispatch his messengers and assemble his chosen … from the farthest bounds of the earth and sky.” The joy, peace and union with God will be beyond our wildest imagination.

Finally, for those people who chose until the last moment of their existence to refuse God’s offer of mercy, love and new life, they too will receive the reward of their labors. As we know from the famous parable in Mathew: “Then the king will say to those on his left, ‘Depart from me, you accursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was thirsty and you gave me no drink…”

When will this all happen? Tomorrow? 2012? 1000 years from now? Despite the messages of many prophets of doom, we do not know. Jesus makes it clear: “But of that day or that hour, no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, and not even the Son, but only the Father” (Mk 13:32). We should not be concerned with predicting the future as with living the Faith now.

A few years ago, I had a professional career planner come to lead a meeting with our students in campus ministry. He began by asking us three questions: What are your life goals? What are your five year goals? What are your one year goals? After some time to reflect quietly on all three, he posed another question: “If Christ said you had six months to live, what would change from that list?” It is this kind of reflection that the Church and the Gospels want to inspire today. If I knew that the end of my world was close at hand, what would I change? Would I go to confession? Repair a broken relationship? Finally figure out how to put God at the center of my life? Be more generous with the poor? Commit to a life of daily, serious prayer?

Let us all seek with renewed hearts to follow the path Christ has laid out for us in the Gospels, even if it means making hard choices or rooting out bad habits. Then, when He comes again, He will look into our eyes with warmth and joy, and say to us, “Well done, good and faithful servant! Come share your master’s joy!”

One of us will turn on the heat (due to a case of the chills) and the other will come along and flip the thermostat to AC (because the house suddenly feels really hot). Then, our bodies will reset, and we’ll each be dashing down the hallway to reverse our previous thermostat settings.

That is exactly how it is when Christians think they can go it alone, without Mother Church to set the standard.

If there is no deposit of the Faith, no true North Star, then we’re all just out there deciding for ourselves what seems right. What is right to believe. What is right to do. What is right to teach others.

It is a recipe for disaster. The thermostat keeps getting changed. How are we saved? When are we saved? Can we lose salvation once we have it? If we are to go to the church with our disagreements and have those differences resolved by the church, what church should we go to? Some say one thing on the cultural issues of the day. Others say the complete opposite.

What if they are all suffering from a classic case of spiritual flu? What if we can’t really rely on anyone to KNOW anything for certain?

That third pillar of the Protestant Reformation — the one called “Sola Scriptura,” which is really personal interpretation — opens the gates and lets almost anything in.

Everyone puts complete trust in feelings. I think that verse means thus and so. You’re crazy, it means this. And I can back it up. Look up this other verse over here. See where it says this?

Right now, I feel chills. I need to turn on the heater. My husband thinks it’s burning up in here. He’s ready for the AC. Neither one of us is right.

The thermostat is set at 70 degrees. And we know, regardless of how it feels, that 70 degrees is just about perfect. We’re the ones that are a little broken.

And that is how it is with the deposit of Faith.

Private interpretation cannot be trusted. The Church that is over 2000 years old can be trusted. The Church that goes back to Jesus and St. Peter and the Rock and the Keys - Her dial is set exactly right.

If something else seems to be the real deal, you might just have something out of whack with your personal thermostat.

There are over 33,000 denominations (and counting). They all teach something different even though Jesus said the Holy Spirit would lead the Church into perfect Truth.

What is your thermostat set on?

Mine is set on Mother Church.

Webster defines “wisdom” as “knowledge of what is true or right coupled with just judgment as to action; sagacity, discernment or insight.” There are two main components to that definition – knowledge and action. It is important to note that both are needed. One can not simply be aware of the right thing to do. One must also do it. A wise person lives an authentic life. He or she integrates belief and behavior so that there is no disconnect between the two.

The wisdom we seek is one based in God. As such, it often flies in the face of what the world considers wise behavior. Society at large measures wisdom (and so many other things) in terms of monetary success. For the Christian, Jesus is the ultimate model of wisdom. St. Paul emphasizes that in light of the cross, “God has shown up human wisdom as folly.” (1 Corinthians 1:17) We seek the wisdom that leads to eternal life, not the wisdom that leads to a large bank account.

The Book of Proverbs offers much instruction on what it means to possess this type of wisdom. It is a “how-to” manual on how to live wisely. According to Proverbs, wisdom begins with “fear of the Lord” (Proverbs 1:7). This type of fear is a profound reverence and awe of God the Creator. That awe leads to respect for all of God’s creation. Loving others as ourselves will flow naturally out of that respect. Caring for the environment will as well.

“The wise listen and learn more.” They seek out guidance. (Proverbs 1:5) A wise person is willing to put in the time and effort to discover what is right and true. One can not have right behavior without a well-formed conscience. There is a duty to learn what God teaches, and not simply rely on one’s own feelings and desires. A wise person is willing to acknowledge that others know more and to learn from them.

There is both and ethical and spiritual component to wisdom. The ethical aspect concerns the actions a person makes. It is perhaps how a wise person will be most recognizable. However, a wise person is also engaged in a relationship with God. We were made to know, love and serve God. A wise person will do all of those things. True wisdom comes from God and a person cannot be truly wise without acknowledging and submitting to that higher power and intelligence. May we always seek to become wise in the way of God.

With my ears tuned to arguments in the form of either/or as a result of that, I began to find many instances where this occurred. The phrase “pro-choice” is an example of either/or thinking in a more subtle way. It implies some people are in favor of freedom of choice while others are opposed to choice. But choice and freedom are not absolute goods. We can make bad choices and we can use our freedom in harmful ways. Making choice an absolute good, as an either/or question, eliminates the need to discuss which choices are good and which are bad.

Often we see the same confusion with the question of censorship, either you agree with censorship or you agree with freedom of expression. It may not be quite so simple. One could agree with both. This would require discussion about when and under what circumstances censorship would be the best choice, or when freedom of expression is legitimate and when it is not.

To be, or not to be, tolerant, that is the question, or so it often seems. One might think that even the Bible supports this when it states, “Judge not, that you be not judged.” (Matt 7:1.) But then later, in the same Gospel, it states, “If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone.” (Matt 18:15) How are we to “tell him his fault” without judging that a fault exists?

If we read the context around the quotations we understand that “judgment” is a complex issue. Sometimes we are called to judge some things, and sometimes we should refrain from any judgment. We can judge behavior when it is necessary and right to do so (as in the second quote above), but we should never judge people, that is, the condition of their soul (Catechism of the Catholic Church #1861). When we judge behavior, we are judging whether or not an action is morally sinful in an objective sense, what theologians call material sin. We are not judging subjectively whether or not a person has actually committed a sin, what theologians call formal sin. Only God can judge that. The Church has always taught, as did Jesus with His whole life and death, that we are to separate the sin from the sinner, to love the sinner while detesting sin.

But even when it comes to judging behavior, we are cautioned against rash judgement. As the Catechism of the Catholic Church says: “To avoid rash judgment, everyone should be careful to interpret insofar as possible his neighbour’s thoughts, words and deeds in a favorable way” (Catechism #2478). So, we should be tolerant, “insofar as possible” and yet we need to judge when it is necessary and right to do so. Clearly, to judge or not to judge is a complex question, not a simple either/or.

Jesus demonstrated that these either or questions can be traps and we are not to fall for them. When asked whether it was lawful to pay taxes to Caesar or not, He did not fall for the trap, but demonstrated that the flaw was in the reasoning of those who questioned Him (Matthew 22: 17-22).

Whether we should be tolerant of a particular behavior or not depends on many variables. It’s not a matter of always being tolerant of people and behavior or never being tolerant of people and behavior, even though that is how some issues are presented. The either/or argument for tolerance is often used to try to trap Catholics in discussing our Church’s stand against homosexual behavior.

These very comments of mine could become just another example of either /or thinking if I didn’t point out that some issues really are of the either/or variety. That is, it’s not simply a question of either using either/or arguments or not using them. There are times when it is appropriate, and necessary, to put questions in the stark choice of either/or. Since adultery is always a grave moral evil, to phrase the choice as “either adultery is always wrong or it is not”, is a correct way to state the choice because there is no other alternative. Therefore, it is crucial to differentiate between issues that are clearly either/or and those that are not.

We may desire simple choices, but either/or thinking does not always serve truth and justice. This can be frustrating and confusing at times, and it requires our patience, humility, and trust in God. We may be called to take positions on some issues or to make judgments, but, God willing, we will judge the issues or behavior, not the people. Instead of merely tolerant, we will be loving and truthful toward them.