Any self-respecting Christian will say that (s)he loves Jesus. The question is, how often do we betray that love for Jesus? The simple answer: Whenever we sin. Whenever we decide to disobey God's commandments in efforts to satisfy our own selfish ends — either by doing something we know to be wrong (sin of commission) or deliberately failing to do something we ought to (sin of omission) — we become like the duplicitous crowd. I have no doubt that any person other than Jesus would find such treachery virtually inconceivable to forgive. Thank God (quite literally) that the love and mercy of Christ are inexhaustible. But we can only receive that forgiveness if we are truly repentant; that is to say, we must strive with every fiber of our being to cast off the evils which plague us. The trouble is, sin (by its very nature) can be very tempting.
I have found a compelling metaphor for the destructive, parasitic power of sin in Sam Raimi's Spider-Man 3 (2007). (CAUTION: I will do my best to avoid spoiling the movie, but there are some significant elements that I will need to reference.) Now, by many accounts, the third film in Raimi's trilogy fell short of the expectations set by its predecessors. However, it contains some profound moral truths on the consequences of indulging in powers we cannot honestly hope to control. Take, for instance, the scene where Peter Parker falls under the influence of the alien symbiote...
Much like the symbiote slinking along the floor towards an unsuspecting Peter, sin creeps into our lives in the form of temptation, concealing the evil it comprises. The devil often tries to seduce us when we are in a weakened state — tired, frustrated, sad — just as the symbiote is drawn to Peter, who is clearly restless and agitated in the above scene. These are the times ripest for temptation, and the evil one makes certain to exploit our vulnerabilities. If we do not continuously guard against the allure of sin, then we are certain to fall.
When sin does take hold, it darkens our soul. While this darkening is not as visual as the transformation of the Spider-Man costume, it possesses a very real power over our physical and spiritual being. At its worst, sin can make us feel empowered, perhaps liberated from the limitations set by our conscience and sound moral reasoning. By embracing sin, we may feel like we are in control of it, master of its power, not unlike Peter. A particularly subtle example is a grudge: One might believe he is in control, but the fact of the matter is that those angry feelings will eventually become a greater and greater detriment to his inner peace. (Guilty. I blame my Italian/Irish/German roots.) And then the hammer comes down...
There is some superb symbolism here. To start with, the scene takes place in a church [a Catholic church, no less (inferred by the presence of the corpus on the crucifix)], God's dwelling place and a house of healing, where we come to seek forgiveness and reconcile ourselves with the Father. Peter has come to realize how he has become corrupted and enslaved by his newfound "power," and he now fights with all his might to extricate himself from the clutches of this evil controller. The symbiote is nothing short of resistant to this attempt; it takes the tolling of the bell — an audible representation for the glory of God — to weaken the creature enough for Peter to rend it off. Indeed, it takes deep strength and humility to recognize the negative impact of sin, to confess wrongdoing, and to struggle to remove and banish sinful tendencies from our lives. And yes, that struggle can be quite painful, leaving us feeling exhausted and perhaps beaten. But with the grace of God we can learn to combat temptation and become our fullest selves.
[I would also like to remark on Eddie Brock's fate. His is a reminder that we need to be mindful of how we pray. Without giving too much away, Eddie had legitimate grounds for being upset with Peter. He made a good first step by walking into a church and seeking God. Where he went wrong is that he prayed for Peter's (presumably agonizing) death. Jesus teaches us that we must love and pray for our enemies, as difficult as that is. (Consider Christ's prayer on Calvary in Luke 23:34.) When we instead wish ill upon them, even if the original offense was theirs, then we become like monsters, our humanity polluted by sin.]
Stripped of the "garments of evil," what are we to wear instead? The prophet Isaiah speaks of "garments of salvation" and "a robe of justice" (Isaiah 61:10). St. Paul instructs us to "put on the new self," renewed in the virtues of "heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience," forgiveness, peacefulness, thankfulness, wisdom, and above all love, "the bond of perfection" (cf. Colossians 3:10-16). This is alone made attainable by Jesus' sacrifice at Golgotha, the culmination of His Passion, which we memorialize and reenact in our celebration of the Easter Triduum. In an act of love impossible to fathom, Christ gave His life to destroy the eternal death warranted by our transgressions. By the shedding of His blood, our souls are cleansed. The obvious reference I can make is to the Elect in Revelation 7:9-17, who "have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." And while a white garment is a classic illustration of purity and freedom from sin, I would like to propose another article of "clothing" befitting the "new self..."
In his letter to the Ephesians (6:10-17), St. Paul urges his audience to defend itself not against "flesh and blood" but against "the world rulers of this present darkness, with the evil spirits in the heavens." To this end, he enjoins the people to don the "armor of God" in order to "stand firm against the tactics of the devil." In beautiful metaphorical language, St. Paul tells the people to equip themselves "with your loins girded in truth, clothed with righteousness as a breastplate, and your feet shod in readiness for the gospel of peace. In all circumstances, hold faith as a shield, to quench all [the] flaming arrows of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." The soldier in me finds this illustration quite captivating, and I deem it remarkably appropriate as a representation of the revitalized sense of mission we ought to feel upon reconciling ourselves to the Father. We are made strong in God's love, and no matter how many chinks we make in the armor or their size we can always return to Him to ask him to mend our broken selves. We are called to be warriors for Christ, and so Jesus, with a "refiner's fire" (cf. Malachi 3:2-3), is always willing to smith and repair our armor if we approach Him with contrite hearts and a loving spirit.
Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen once remarked, "Unless there is a Good Friday in your life, there can be no Easter Sunday." If we are unwilling to accept our failings and die to ourselves, we cannot experience the joy of the Resurrection. But as the prophet Joel says, "Rend your hearts, not your garments, and return to the LORD, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and relenting in punishment" (Joel 2:13). For the Lord will bestow on us a "new self," a self purified of sin and provisioned with the grace to "resist on the evil day and, having done everything, to hold your ground" (Ephesians 6:13). May God bless you upon the conclusion of this Lenten season, and may you have a glorious and Happy Easter!
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