Mercy and Remarriage

I am currently reading Fr. James Martin’s A Jesuit Guide to Almost Everything, and, in the opening pages, he presents his understanding of what makes Jesuit spirituality distinctive. He lists four characteristic traits: finding God in all things, becoming a contemplative in action, looking at the world in an incarnational way, and seeking freedom and detachment (5ff). In particular, Fr. Martin takes the characteristics of “finding God in all things” and looking at the world incarnationally to mean that we are called to meet people "where they are": in their concrete situations of mundanity or even sin.

Our first Jesuit pope is quite consciously applying these Jesuit characteristics in his own papal teachings. For instance, in his latest apostolic exhortation, Amoris Laetitia, the Pope tries very hard to find God in all circumstances, even the circumstances of those in an irregular state of marriage (namely, the divorced and civilly remarried). Pope Francis wants very much to affirm that the individuals in those relationships can still possess virtue and are beloved by God, and that their irregular relationships themselves contain elements of true love and goodness. Pope Francis, the bishop of mercy, wants very much to reach out to the people in these circumstances and offer them the aid of the church’s pastoral care.

These goals and intentions are very laudable and very necessary reminders in our hyper-judgmental age. Conservative Catholic rhetoric can easily sound as though there is no good at all in those who would "obstinately persist in their grave sin." But certainly just because one is living in an irregular marriage doesn’t mean that there is no virtue or goodness left in that person, or even that this irregular relationship doesn’t contain anything that is, in a very real way, good. And of course the Church should reach out to these people in every legitimate means available, recognizing and working with those seeds of goodness.

But when the question arises: should the divorced and remarried be admitted to communion? – Well, then it’s the “liberal” Catholic’s turn to be judgmental. For now we hear that denying communion to the divorced and remarried is “unmerciful.” But if “conservative” Catholics can be accused of being judgmental by denying the goodness of the divorced and remarried, then “liberal” Catholics are just as guilty when they assume a lack of mercy in the hearts of those who want to uphold Church teaching.

Amoris Laetitia (despite the infamous footnote) does not explicitly overturn CCC 1580 on this issue, but some have hoped, in the name of “mercy” that it tends in that direction. My question, though, is: should it? Would it be “merciful” to permit the divorced and remarried to receive communion? Should the Church, in the name of mercy, allow it? This is a question which I don’t think Fr. Martin’s four Jesuit characteristics can help us answer. Because while these four characteristics tell us how to engage with the world, they don’t tell us why – to what end are we engaging with the world? And on this point it becomes striking that Fr. Martin omitted the Jesuit motto itself from his list of Jesuit traits. For the motto is: ad maiorem dei Gloriam – for the greater glory of God. This is the goal of our interactions with the world.

Now, why does the notion of the greater glory of God make a difference in our understanding of how we are to approach the situation of those who are divorced? Because it implies that the story doesn’t end simply with our “meeting people where they are” and “finding God” even in the midst of their broken circumstances. That’s only the beginning of the journey. The goal is to then lead them from where they are to where they ought to be: to a situation that makes God’s glory manifest. And marriage, as a sacrament not only of the love between a man and a woman but also of the covenant between God and the Church and also of the eternal communion of the Triune God, is a very powerful means of making God's glory real and present in the world today.

It is not a mercy simply to tell people that it’s “good enough” to settle for their broken, sinful circumstances – that they don’t have to strive to attain the virtue for which they were made and to which they are called. Such a settling is not good enough for human beings, nor for the Church, nor for Christ who calls us to perfection (Mt 5:48). Mercy is only mercy when it frees us to do good, not when it allows us to remain trapped in sin.

Mercy can also never be contrary to truth. To allow the divorced and remarried to receive communion is, in effect, to declare that they are not in a state of “manifest grave sin” (because those in a state of manifest grave sin, according to Canon Law, are not permitted to receive communion). But objectively speaking they are living in a state of adultery, in a state of objective moral evil. They are living as though married to one person when, objectively speaking, they are indeed bonded to someone else in covenantal marriage. There is no getting around this objective truth unless we want to deny the truth of Christ’s teaching on marriage. This is not a judgment on the subjective state of their souls or the goodness of their intentions or the value of their new relationship. This is not about judgment of someone’s moral worth or virtue. This is the objective truth.

It is vitally important to remember this fact. Because, as I said before, the Church has been accused of being “judgmental” when it denies the divorced and remarried communion. But the Church, in her teaching on this matter, does not presume to see into a person’s conscience and judge her personal relationship with God. The Church is making a decision based on what, in the Church’s eyes, is an objective truth. Communion is not being withheld as punishment or as a "prize" withdrawn for lack of virtue. 

In this context, though, Jesus’ example of mercy towards the adulteress is often brought up in this context (John 8:2-11). How can we throw the first stone when so many of us sinners receive communion despite our sin?

There are two ways, as I see it, to reply to this argument. First, let’s look again at Jesus’ example: yes, Jesus forbade the throwing of stones. But he did not deny that the woman was an adulteress, or that her adultery was a sin. What he did deny was our right to condemn her to death for it. But denying communion on the grounds that a person is in a state of mortal sin is not to condemn that person to death. In fact, if we look to St. Paul in First Corinthians we find the opposite: it is death to receive communion unworthily (1 Cor 11:27-29). In a very real, very biblical sense, denying communion to those living in an objective state of adultery is an act of mercy. This isn’t some convoluted logic to justify unmerciful attitudes. This is Scripture.

But what about the argument that, well, who can be “worthy” of the Eucharist? Aren’t we all sinners? Here’s where the idea of the Eucharist as “medicine for the sick” is often invoked. But as canon lawyer Dr. Edward Peters points out, if we’re going to treat the Eucharist as medicinal we must also recognize that medicines aren’t to be used willy-nilly. They come with warning labels, caveats, and restrictions.

And the restriction here relates not only to the sinful state of adultery, but also to the very nature of marriage as a public sacrament. Causing public scandal is, in itself, a grave sin, and Canon 915 prohibits those who are persisting in a state of manifest grave sin from receiving the Eucharist. The “manifest” part means precisely public and visible. And marriage, in the Catholic viewpoint, is not a private expression of your devotion to another person but a public declaration made before God and the Church. But if you are living in a state that, objectively speaking, is a public repudiation of an eternally binding, public vow you made to another person before God and His Church, then you are in a state of manifest (i.e., public, visible, and "scandalous") sin – no matter how you look at it. Again, it’s not a matter of adjudicating the worthiness of your own conscience. In the eyes of the Church, it’s a matter of objective reality.

There are those who will not accept this. But to deny it is to deny Jesus’ teachings on the indissolubility of marriage, Paul’s teachings on the Eucharist, and the Church’s understanding of those teachings handed down through the ages. 

It is not an easy thing to hear. But the Christian life is not easy. That’s why so many people left Jesus. His teachings are hard. The path of virtue is hard. And our pastors should be walking it with us, not encouraging us to abandon it. This is true mercy: to meet sinners where they are, but for the purpose of drawing them to glory. As G.K. Chesterton put it, “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and not tried." But we have to try.  We must find practical, practicable ways for divorced people to understand and live their lives in ways that are both true to their vows and to the reality of their marriages, but respectful of their own dignity. We must uncover the beauty of the Church’s teachings on marriage in a way that draws people towards that beauty, rather than presenting Church teaching in a negative, prohibitory, and Pharisaical way (and in this regard, actually, I find Amoris Laetitia quite refreshing). We must help people “see God” in their situations, in the sense of helping them to discern how God is calling them to virtue through their difficult circumstances.

I speak from some personal experience here. When I was young my father was close to leaving my family: divorce papers were signed and in my mother’s hands. My mother has readily admitted that if it weren’t for her Catholic faith she would have agreed to a divorce immediately, and indeed in most Christian denominations she would have been seen as justified in doing so. It was (needless to say) a difficult time for both of them. And it was a difficult time for me, as a child who had to watch and wonder about the future of my family while all the time having absolutely no control over the situation.* 

My father came back, though, and my mother forgave him. And witnessing the way that they have rebuilt their marriage and our family over the past twenty-eight years has been truly inspiring. My mother’s capacity for forgiveness has been amazing, even though at times she has had to overcome the temptation to vindictiveness. My father’s capacity for repentance has been equally beautiful, even though at times he has had to overcome the temptation to resentment. Their relationship is not perfect (and indeed has many odd quirks that make me shake my head in bewilderment), and the road has been difficult, but they are both better people – wiser, humbler, and holier – for having walked it, and walked it together. And, in the strangest way, their marriage may actually be stronger now because of it.

I’m not saying that my parents’ solution is everyone’s solution. But I am saying that it is possible, with God’s grace, to bring goodness even out of a deeply troubled or broken marriage. It is possible, with God’s grace, to walk the difficult road of being called to celibacy if one is, by necessity, separated from his or her spouse – and of growing in virtue on that path. If you find yourself in this situation remember that you are being called to manifest God’s own patient, everlasting love with sinful humanity! How can it be unmerciful for the Church to help you answer this call?

It would, indeed, be unmerciful for humanity to be deprived of the beauty of our Church’s understanding of marriage as an eternal covenant that is absolutely unconditional and has an objective reality apart from any subjective or relative state in which you find yourself. The truth of your marriage doesn’t depend on your feelings towards your spouse, it doesn’t depend on where you are or anything you’ve done or anything you’ve failed to do, it doesn't depend on any perfection or lack thereof in you or your spouse. Your marriage has a truth and reality and meaning in God that transcends any human weakness or error or sin. Your marriage is held in the palm of God's hand. Given that only the Catholic Church explicitly holds to such an understanding, I think that perhaps it is one of our great gifts to the world. The fact that we as human beings have the grace-filled capacity to enter into such a covenant with each other, to create this reality with another person - a reality that that is then respected and treasured by God - this, in itself, is a remarkable gift. I pray that we don’t deprive ourselves of it.

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*And here I must add: the moral obligation of separated or divorced parents towards their children’s psychological and spiritual needs must absolutely be addressed in any discussion of pastoral care on this matter. Too often, far too often, children are told that the divorce has “nothing to do with them,” but although this may seem true to the adults, this is not how children experience separation or divorce. For children’s identities are intimately connected with their parents’ identities; children know intuitively that they have part of each of their parents literally enfleshed in their bodies, and one parent’s rejection of the other will necessarily feel to the child like a rejection of herself. I don't think nearly enough attention has been paid, in our culture of easy divorce, to the very real trauma this causes to children.