5th Catechesis by Christoph Cardinal Schönborn on Sunday, February
12th, 2006, St. Stephen’s Cathedral. Translated by Prof. John F. Crosby.
I
The poet and author Reinhold Schneider spent the winter of 1957-58 in
Vienna. It was his last winter, though he was just 55. He kept a diary
for the four or five months that he spent in Vienna. He was already
seriously ill and plagued by deep melancholy; he died at Easter, 1958.
Again and again he wrote about the terrors, the incomprehensible
cruelties of nature, of the "process of eating and being eaten" (Winter
in Wien, Freiburg, 1958, p. 184), and also about the senseless and
terrible human world full of suffering and war and unfathomable evil.
Had this sick and depressed poet, who had given encouragement to so many
people in the Nazi era, lost his faith? Did he revert to the tragic
world view that had characterized his thought before his conversion to
the Catholic faith? His reflections on and his consternation (verging on
despair) at the horrors of this world put into question his faith in a
good creator, in His meaningful plan, in His benevolent providence. Let
me quote three passages from his diaries.
1. On the occasion of visiting the Museum of Natural History Reinhold
Schneider notes: "If you once go through the Museum of Natural History,
you will see that God is just as close as He is distant. In the presence
of this inestimably large world of forms, this terrible abundance of
inventions, it is impossible to deny Him. I am thinking of the absurd
architecture of the dinosaur, a cathedral of meaninglessness, of the
will to live, though it cannot live; of the evil apparitions of Japanese
crabs, of long-legged mating insects as if from hell; of the octopus
with its eight tentacles. As I recall, the visitors to the Aquarium in
Hamburg were once entertained by watching an octopus encounter a giant
lobster. The event was surprising: the octopus wrapped itself around the
claws of the lobster, crushed them, and sucked the life out of the
shell. The sea star breaks open mussels, plunges its intestine inside
and drinks them out like an egg. I say nothing here of the sharks that
throw themselves onto walruses from the side, or of the defenselessness
of see otters and dolphins, and nothing of the struggle of the giant
jelly fish with whales, or of the frog which, standing like a human
being, is sucked out by the leech wrapped around him" (Winter in Wien,
129-130).
2. Why do parasites with their unimaginably cruel activity exist in a
good creation? Is it only our imagination that makes us shudder, or is
nature perhaps really without pity, without sympathy, "rotating hells,"
as Schneider says (p. 171)? Let us hear him again. "You have to pray,
even if you cannot. I can certainly pray for others, for priests,
scientists, statesmen, the people, creatures, the earth; for the sick
first of all, it goes without saying, and for the dead, which is the
silent confirmation of a mysterious connection. I have a deep need to do
this; it gives me support and calls me to church in the morning; but for
myself I cannot pray. The face of the Father has been obscured for me.
It is the terrible mask of the one who smashes, who treads the
winepress; I cannot really say ‘Father'... Let us just read some chapter
on parasites (in the works of Natzmer or von Bertalanffy or von Frisch,
a unique case of one who really looks with the eyes of love on lice,
bugs, and fleas). Let us just remember the everyday story, often told,
of the parasites living in the bowels of certain birds. The eggs of
these parasites contained in the bird feces get into snails, in which
they grow and move into the feelers of the snails; in the swollen
feelers they display attractive colors and movements that draw the birds
to pull off the feelers. Thus the parasites return to the birds. And
once again the snails grow their feelers and once again they are pulled
off. The snails produce the agents that destroy them and the birds. But
without providing a home for myriads of these destroyers and without
being used by them, none of the higher organisms could live; thus
without them even the spirit could not assert itself. What then are love
and beauty?" (Pp. 119-120)
Such examples can be multiplied ad libitum. Who has not heard of the
female praying mantis, who eats alive the male in the act of copulation?
Where is the "intelligent design" here? Where is a good and loving
creator who can say of His creation that it is good?
3. And finally what should we think about the never-ending chain of
human suffering? Schneider notes in his diary all that he read in one
day paging through the newspapers about the senseless and random
suffering of innocent children. "The age expresses itself most clearly
in its absurdities. I cannot omit collecting some of them. In Holland a
four-year-old girl was treated with a radioactive substance; the tip of
the needle broke off and remained unnoticed in her body. She got sick
with a highly contagious disease, which drove the good Haanschoten
family from their little home in Putten; even the garden was infected
and the adjacent walkway to a grammar school. In Vienna an
eight-year-old girl broke a tooth and died of trauma in the doctor's
office. In Oakland, California, a court acquitted the parents of two
children who suffered incurable paralysis and spinal deformation after
being inoculated with the Salk serum. Not far from Bari four children
died after health officials required them to be inoculated against
diphtheria with a substance that had not previously been used; fifteen
other inoculated children had to be hospitalized. In the hospital of the
University of Munich a nurse had the misfortune of injecting gasoline
instead of the appropriate narcotic into a young girl, who subsequently
died. And this is all the result of just one day of paging through the
newspapers." (pp. 126-127).
I could go on and on presenting things of this kind to you. In the many
letters that I have received in the last months I was often asked this
question: How do you find any rational plan of creation in a world full
of absurd random events? Let me quote from two typical letters. A
professor of genetics and developmental biology recently wrote me: "If
you have ever visited a home for incurable children and have seen, for
example, a hydrocephalic child with a balloon-like enlargement of the
cranium, just vegetating, or children whose eye sockets have no eyes,
you will have difficulties with the hypothesis of 'Intelligent Design.'"
A professor for medical computer science wrote me last fall: "The issue
of evolution did not command my attention until I began, some three
years ago, to learn about medical computer science and was drawn fairly
deep into research on the human genome. Nowadays you can see the entire
genome on any personal computer. Though I used to think that 'creation
is well ordered and that all disorder is just a deviation (whether with
or without guilt) from this good order,' I have in the meantime been
given an entirely opposite impression of absolutely unplanned steps in a
process: creation now appears as an accumulation of unplanned steps and
we see merely those 'products' that have survived (and display a certain
functionality). Some people interpret these as designed. It is as if
someone after winning the lottery were to call his win the result of a
designed process. Would we find that convincing? You can of course
always object that it looks unplanned only because we do not understand
the plan behind it. I wish I could accept this argument. Your Eminence,
you should take a look yourself at the genome. You will see how chaotic
everything is in it. It resembles a city that has been frequently
rebuilt by adding new things to the areas that have been wrecked. Real
and false copies are introduced in appropriate and inappropriate places.
No technician would ever plan such a mess. What we find in the genome
seems to be the very opposite of planning. As a Christian I was
astonished to learn this; I had expected things to be the other way
around. In the final analysis it seems to me to come to this: God has
used evolution to create all these things. But there you have the real
problem: how can God, who is merciful, allow all the trial and error and
the thousands that die in the process? How can He use such things as a
means for His intelligent creative activity? This contradicts the usual
image that we have of God (as transmitted by the Church). ... It is high
time to look closely at the world that God has made and to find out what
He has really intended to do. I don't think anyone as yet knows what He
has intended."
II.
Enough questions. Are there any answers? Let us say right from the
beginning: we must not give any overly hasty answer to the questions of
evil, suffering, of the origin of these and of their relation to God's
goodness and to the goodness of His creation and providence. On this the
Catechism of the Catholic Church (#309) says:
If God the Father almighty, the Creator of the ordered and good world,
cares for all his creatures, why does evil exist? To this question, as
pressing as it is unavoidable and as painful as it is mysterious, no
quick answer will suffice. Only Christian faith as a whole constitutes
the answer to this question: the goodness of creation, the drama of sin
and the patient love of God who comes to meet man by his covenants, the
redemptive Incarnation of his Son, his gift of the Spirit, his gathering
of the Church, the power of the sacraments and his call to a blessed
life to which free creatures are invited to consent in advance, but from
which, by a terrible mystery, they can also turn away in advance. There
is not a single aspect of the Christian message that is not in part an
answer to the question of evil.
St. Augustine wrestled intensely with this question: "I inquired into
the origin of evil but found no solution" (Confessions, VII, 7). After
long searching and after making various detours and false starts he
found the One who alone has conquered evil, sin, and death (cf. 385).
Centuries of Christian experience show one thing very clearly: the
deeper we are taken into the infinite mystery of God and the more lively
our communion with Christ the Redeemer and the more intimate our
familiarity with the Holy Spirit, then the more clearly does the question
about the evil in the world emerge. The more the sense of God wanes, the
more our understanding of evil is obscured. It becomes a senseless
scandal from which one can only flee whether in despair or in denial. A
person like Ivan Karamazov in Dostoevsky's novel flees into revolt. In
light of the suffering of children, Ivan reasons, the world and history
must be absurd. He wants to return his "ticket of admission." He says
that a God cannot exist who lets people suffer so senselessly.
Dostoevsky himself struggles with the question whether there is any
answer to the atheistic arguments that are based on the suffering of the
innocent. He says that an answer cannot be given on the level of
arguments but can be found only by changing one's point of view
entirely. In the figure of Fr. Zosima he portrays the answer to Ivan's
atheism of protest. Arguments do not in the end convince us that the
evils in the world are not just meaningless absurdity. It has always
been people who have lived the believable answer. A Mother Teresa was
such a "living answer" to the challenge of suffering and of evil in the
world.
And yet we have to make arguments. Reason wants to understand the truth
about evil in the world. The answer of the great Christian intellectual
tradition is so deep and so well thought-through that it is urgently
important for us to be better acquainted with it. The most important
points are recapitulated in the Catechism of the Catholic Church,
309-311. I will now try to give you some idea of them.
The Best of All Worlds?
Let us begin with one of the most common objections to the Creator and
His plan, His guidance, and His providence: "Why did God not create a
world so perfect that it could contain nothing evil?" (Catechism, 310)
I notice again and again how widespread a certain deep-rooted
misunderstanding is: if God has created this world, He can only have
created it as perfect. Any defect that is noticed seems to speak against
an "intelligent creator" and His intelligent plan. The chaos in the
genetic code is an example of this. One likes to say that no reasonable
engineer would construct a machine in this way. A classic example of
this argumentation is the human eye. Naive believer in creation that I
am, I would say that it is an incomprehensible wonder which makes us
marvel at the Creator. Not at all, say the experts in evolution: no
oculist would construct the lens, the reflection, etc. as we find it in
the present human eye. Before I go in to the underlying misunderstanding
let me offer one retort. It may be that the human eye could be put
together better. But it is thanks to this construction that we can
become oculists, engineers, and the like, indeed that we can all
experience the marvel of seeing (unless the defect of blindness hinders
us). And further: in spite of all our splendid technical prowess, no one
is capable of constructing a functioning, living human eye.
But let us come to the heart of the matter: must God, when He creates,
create a perfect world free of any defect? Do we face this alterative:
either there is a perfect creation or else there is a world that is the
product of sheer chance? When God creates does He have to create a world
that is already completely finished, a world in which everything
possesses from the beginning its perfect form, its unchangeable state of
actuality?
But what if creation involves a beginning that is followed by a process
of becoming and that finally reaches an endpoint? In this case the
Creator who "in the beginning made" the world has set it in motion along
a path on which it is still moving towards a goal that is not yet
reached. In such a world there would have to be constant becoming, which
would also involve a constant passing away. For nothing material that
comes to be and develops is able to last; it always passes away. It
necessarily follows that in a world of becoming there is perishing,
destruction, and death. The Catechism puts it like this: "With infinite
power God could always create something better. But with infinite wisdom
and goodness God freely willed to create a world 'in a state of
journeying' towards its ultimate perfection. In God's plan this process
of becoming involves the appearance of certain beings and the
disappearance of others, the existence of the more perfect alongside the
less perfect, both constructive and destructive forces of nature. With
physical good there exists also physical evil as long as creation has
not reached perfection (310)."
Let us look first at "physical evil," which in the discussion about
creation and evolution is a more prominent issue than the issue of moral
evil, which exists only in the realm of created freedom (human beings
and angels). I will deal with moral evil in the next catechesis. Can we
harmonize the words of Genesis, "God saw that it was very good," with
the fact of "eating and being eaten" throughout the world of living
beings? Let us try to approach this question in three steps?
a. "All that is, is good."
We will not be able to move forward here without achieving a certain
"fundamental metaphysical insight." This metaphysical principle says:
"All that is, is good for the reason that it is." Being is good. All
that is has being before it has other attributes and characteristics.
Natural science always deals with attributes such as size, quantity,
quality, origin, place, time. But here we are asking about that which
underlies all attributes and characteristics, about the fact that all
that is has being. This is something good! But now we have to say it
with greater precision: God has given being to everything. But this does
not mean that everything that is must therefore be the "best possible."
God could create a better world (cf. St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa
Theologiae, I, q. 25, a. 6, ad 1). He could do this if He wanted to.
Would He have to do this if He could? We are liable to be somewhat
scandalized here: why did He not create a better, more just, more loving
world if He can? Is He perhaps just too weak to make a better, more
purposeful world? Has the world slipped out of His grasp? Does He have
sufficient energy and power? Or is it just the case that everything runs
its random course, without meaning or purpose? Without a Creator?
b. "All that is, is good but limited."
Here is a comparison that will help us. As Michelangelo finished working
on his statue of Moses, he is said to have thrown his chisel at it and
cried out: "speak!" No work of art, not even the most perfect one, can
exhaustively express all that the artist envisions. The work will always
be only a limited expression as a result of the material setting that
sets a certain limit to all ideas and also as a result of the fact that
a work is always only a reflection of what the artists envisions in his
creative intuition.
This comparison should help us to understand that all creatures, good as
they are, are limited. None of them can entirely express the creator.
Even if the world were much better and much more perfect, it would still
not even approach the glory of God. It remains a reflection of the
greatness of the Creator. It can never perfectly reflect Him, and this
not only because all creatures are limited, but also because they are in
a state of becoming and have a beginning, a phase of development, and an
end.
The reason why the endless debate about "intelligent design" seems to be
going in a circle, is that whenever "design" or a "designer" is
mentioned nowadays, people spontaneously think of the "divine engineer,"
a kind of omnipotent technician who, being necessarily perfect, should
produce only absolutely perfect machines. Here is the deepest source of
so many misunderstandings, even from the side of the "intelligent
design" movement in the U.S.A. God is not a watchmaker, not a builder of
machines; He is the creator of natures. The world is not clockwork, not
a giant machine, not even a mega-computer; it is, as Jacques Maritain
put it, "a republic of natures" (Raison et raisons, Paris, 1947, 62).
If we are to speak meaningfully of the "design" of the Creator, we have
to recover the concept of nature that has been largely lost and has been
replaced by a technical and mechanistic understanding of living beings
To say that God creates "natures," "a republic of natures," is to say
that in His creation there is above all growth and becoming with all its
groping, attempting, failing, breaking through, with all its synergy and
struggle, its incomprehensible waste and unexpected and unintended
results, fortunate and unfortunate.
But there is something that is unmistakably proper to the natures,
namely their own power of acting that has been implanted in them by the
Creator and that enables them to grow and to act on their own so that
they can reach their end without being coerced from without but by way
of acting from the impulse of their own nature. Every being in nature
seems to know what it has to do. St. Thomas says that "nature" is an
"inner principle" on the basis of which each thing does what corresponds
to its nature. He traces this inner principle back to the ars divina,
the art of the Creator, who has "implanted" in creatures their
self-development and self-organization. (Cf. St. Thomas Aquinas, In
physicorum, lib. 2, lec. 14, n. 8)
But let us return to the question of waste in nature. The geneticist
whom I quoted at the beginning wrote me: "A spruce tree produces tons of
seeds in the course of its life, which often lasts for more than a
century. In the end only one seed will take root after a gust of wind
has blown over the old tree and cleared the ground for a new growth.
Until then the tree has produced with its seeds feed for birds or boars
or insects." This scientist added that this "principle of
overproduction" and all the destruction that goes with it "does not
speak well for God's activity in the world." But why not? For an
engineer it contradicts the principle of technical instrumental
rationality. But does it contradict the vitality and creativity of life?
This boundless waste certainly has something to do with providing for
survival, but it is also a sign of living being, which for all its
imperfection and transitoriness is yet a reflection of the inexhaustible
life of the Creator.
c. "He saw that it was good"—
including evil?
Of course the decisive question is still open: "whence comes evil?" as
Augustine put it. Though we can hopefully understand that creation is
good though imperfect, still we have to ask why there is so much
senseless destruction and cruelty.
Recent events have made us realize again how violent and destructive
"nature" can be. Earthquakes like the one that occurred off the coast of
Indonesia on December 26, 2004 can cause tremendous destruction in a
very short time. I read in a scientific report that it was a 9 on the
Richter scale and had the power of 23,000 atom bombs.
But powerful as this movement of the continental plates was, the planet
earth, our home in the universe, hardly took notice of it. The rotation
of the earth was slowed down by only 2 millionths of a second. Terrible
as the consequences were of the tsunami that was set off by the
underwater earthquake, this kind of earthquake activity follows from
something that is indispensable for life on our planet. Without the
mobility of the plates that form the crust of the earth there would be
no life on earth. Experts say that this mobility is one of the
conditions for the earth acquiring a stable average temperature, without
which there could have been no evolution of life (cf. Peter Ward and
Donald Brownless, Rare Earth, New York, 2000). The earth is the only
planet in the solar system that has this flexible geological structure.
It is the only place where higher forms of life were able to develop.
So we arrive at a paradox: what causes the earthquakes and again and
again leads to many deaths is at the same time one of the conditions for
us existing on earth along with all the complex forms of life.
What does this say to us? Marco Bersanelli, an Italian scientist, says
this:
A ripple in the ocean, or an imperceptible breath on the skin of our
planet, is enough to ravage our existence. Such phenomena show the
fragility and refinement of the world that we take for granted every
day. The normality of the universe is not at all a calm sea teeming with
life; rather, it is a boundless desert of still spaces, or the
unleashing of irresistible forces. The explosion of a nearby supernova
could cause our total extinction in an instant, but these same stellar
explosions in a distant past released the carbon, oxygen, and other
elements essential for us and for every organism. Terrestrial life
exists in an exquisitely delicate niche, prodigiously carved out,
exploiting the products of the entire history of the cosmos.
After the tsunami it was repeatedly said: how can a good Creator let
such a thing happen? Unfortunately I never heard anyone say: how can we
thank the Creator for giving us the magnificent beaches of Phuket? They
came about through the same history of the earth to which the tsunami
belongs. We live on a wonderful planet, but everything on it is
endangered and our life on it is entrusted to us "until further notice."
What holds on a large scale holds as well on the smallest scale. The
professor for medical computer science whom I quoted above introduced me
to his fascinating work. The thoughtful researcher can only be puzzled
by the unimaginably complex events in the genome that determine life in
all its forms. Why this susceptibility to mistakes? Why do misshapen
forms result from harmful mutations? Professor Wolfgang Schreiner,
mentioned above, says that one can speak of a "successful design," since
for those who survive it is successful. But it is not "careful design,"
as one can see from the many possible sources of mistakes, and it is not
"compassionate design." He says in conclusion: "We would expect
'intelligent design' to be everything," that is, to be successful,
careful, and compassionate.
III.
Let me try to point out two ways of answering these questions.
1. Evil is great, terrible, and not to be explained away. But the good
is nevertheless always greater and more powerful. That is a conviction
with absolute certainty. Evil in all its forms is always a lack of good,
a deficiency; though it can be great and terrible, it is in the end
never greater than the good which it distorts or robs. We can see this
at the smallest level: genetic defects can produce terrible
malformations. But these are always the exceptions. The amazing thing is
that this so tremendously complex structure of the genome functions at
all, and for the most part very well and right on target.
2. And yet: one handicapped child, even if it is just one among a
thousand healthy ones, is an unrepeatable being with its own destiny and
with that of its parents and siblings. "Why does God allow this?" Let us
take care to avoid glib answers. In response to the question of why, the
only response is that of solidarity. I could have been this handicapped
child. It has the same humanity and the same dignity that I have. It is
a living call to me: do unto me as you would want it done unto you if
you were in my place. How much love has come into the world by this way
of pain!
Finally there is the question of Reinhold Schneider that weighs on us,
the question why evil strikes so meaninglessly. "Design" cannot be
discerned here, we find instead the destruction of meaning and design.
The Bible knows that "the whole creation has been groaning in travail
together until now" (Rom. 8:22). It is wounded and marked by evil. It is
not just "subjected to futility" (Rom. 8:20). It is as if "the evil
power" had gained control. But there is also this promise: "creation
itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the
glorious liberty of the children of God" (Rom. 8:21). This "eager
longing of all creation" is directed to the "revealing of the sons of
God" (Rom. 8:19).
In the next catechesis we will deal with man as the "crown of creation"
and with the radical critique that has been made of this faith. And in
the catechesis after that we will deal with Christ the Redeemer, in whom
the sufferings of creation will find an end and in whom the new creation
will have its beginning and its goal.
(© Christoph Cardinal Schönborn )
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