In his encyclical on moral theology, Veritatis Splendor, Pope St. John Paul II writes:

“Judgments about morality cannot be made without taking into consideration whether or not the deliberate choice of a specific kind of behavior is in conformity with the dignity and integral vocation of the human person… In the case of the positive moral precepts, prudence always has the task of verifying that they apply in a specific situation, for example, in view of other duties which may be more important or urgent. But the negative moral precepts, those prohibiting certain concrete actions or kinds of behavior as intrinsically evil, do not allow for any legitimate exception. They do not leave room, in any morally acceptable way, for the “creativity” of any contrary determination whatsoever. Once the moral species of an action prohibited by a universal rule is concretely recognized, the only morally good act is that of obeying the moral law and of refraining from the action which it forbids… (79).

No room for creativity? Well, that’s not something we are used to hearing. It seems so confining. I mean, isn’t the most important 21st century skill heralded to be “creative problem solving”? Not so with God’s commandments, it seems. Certainly not with the negative precepts: “Thou shalt not…”

While there may be a variety of ways to accomplish a particular good (such as honoring your father and mother) and while the best way to do this given the concrete limitations of a given situation may involve a certain “creativity,” one may never freely choose evil or get “creative” with it. Evil, in fact, is never creative. It is only destructive.

In the Christmas classic, It’s a Wonderful Life, we see the young George Bailey, working at Mr. Gower’s pharmacy, asked to deliver a prescription to a local family. Mr. Gower, distraught by the news of his son’s sudden and tragic death, and drowning his sorrow in alcohol, inadvertently puts poison into the prescription bottle. When young George questions Mr. Gower, the pharmacist gets angry and tells him to go and do what he was told. What does George do? After an unsuccessful attempt to get his father’s advice, he chooses not to deliver the bottle. When he returns, he gets a beating for his disobedience, until George finally convinces Mr. Gower of his grave error, and Mr. Gower embraces him in gratitude and showers him with words and tears of contrition.

Did George obey the fourth commandment, which includes respect and obedience to all authority figures? I argue that he did. Not delivering the “prescription” was the best way to honor it. And he actually spared Mr. Gower from an even more devastating suffering than the loss of his son.

Yet, let’s take another instance from the movie. George, at the end of his rope and facing prison, financial ruin, and public disgrace for his Uncle Billy’s accidental loss of a bank deposit, likewise drowns his sorrows in alcohol. Then a thought occurs to him – due to his insurance policy, he is worth more dead than alive. He resolves to commit suicide. At least then, he thinks, his family would be spared financial hardship, if not scandal. The rest of the movie is an angel visiting George and trying to convince him that his calculations are wrong and that he really had a “wonderful life.”

George is getting creative here with evil, seeing all sorts of benefits from committing it (or at least believing it is the “lesser evil”). But the moral law does not permit such creativity, which really only amounts to a change in syntax.

Listen to these words of Pope St. Paul VI from his encyclical letter Humanae Vitae in which he reaffirmed the Catholic Church’s teaching on the intrinsic evil of contraception:

“Though it is true that sometimes it is lawful to tolerate a lesser moral evil in order to avoid a greater evil or in order to promote a greater good, it is never lawful, even for the gravest reasons, to do evil that good may come of it (cf. Romans 3:8) — in other words, to intend directly something which of its very nature contradicts the moral order, and which must therefore be judged unworthy of man, even though the intention is to protect or promote the welfare of an individual, of a family or of society in general” (n. 14).

The deliberate choice to do what is evil is never in conformity with the dignity of the human person, who is created in the image of God, or with his vocation to love as God loves. Acts which are evil “by their very nature” must be judged unworthy of man for they are incapable of bringing about our true good and full flourishing, or of being expressions of authentic love, regardless of the intentions or circumstances. They must be judged unworthy of man because they contradict the image of God that we are.

It is the “object” of the act – the “what” that is being freely chosen – that determines the uprightness of our will. As St. John Paul II continues in Veritatis Splendor: “The object of the act of willing is in fact a freely chosen kind of behavior. To the extent that it is in conformity with the order of reason, it is the cause of the goodness of the will; it perfects us morally, and disposes us to recognize our ultimate end in the perfect good, primordial love” (n. 81). This is precisely why the Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches that there are certain kinds of behavior that are always wrong to choose (see #1761). 

One of these kinds of behavior is contraception: “Neither is it valid to argue, as a justification for sexual intercourse which is deliberately contraceptive, that a lesser evil is to be preferred to a greater one, or that such intercourse would merge with procreative acts of past and future to form a single entity, and so be qualified by exactly the same moral goodness as these… it is a serious error to think that a whole married life of otherwise normal relations can justify sexual intercourse which is deliberately contraceptive and so intrinsically wrong” (Humanae Vitae, n. 14). Another one is abortion. St. John Paul II states that while different “in nature and moral gravity” than contraception, abortion is closely connected with it, as they are “fruits of the same tree” (Evangelium Vitae, n. 14). Both are always wrong to choose. Remember, evil leaves no room for creativity.

Thus, “If acts are intrinsically evil, a good intention or particular circumstances can diminish their evil, but they cannot remove it. They remain ‘irremediably’ evil acts; per se and in themselves they are not capable of being ordered to God and to the good of the person… Consequently, circumstances or intentions can never transform an act intrinsically evil by virtue of its object into an act “subjectively” good or defensible as a choice” (Veritatis Splendor, n. 81).  Let’s be clear: conscience can never condone and God will never approve such acts. They simply are not good – they are not good for us or for others; they are not good for societies or for nations – no matter how we creatively restructure the sentences. And not only can we never choose them ourselves, we can never approve them or support them or those that do. 

Could it be that the Evil One’s tactic is to convince us of our creativity? To entice us to engage in “problem solving” when the problem has already been solved? To get us to believe we need to decide what is good or evil and grasp at being “like God,” instead of recognizing that we are “like God,” as creatures made in His image, and that will live “like God” by leaving the Tree alone and conforming our behavior to what God says is good and evil?  I think so. And it is likely to come in the form of well-meaning advice from a seemingly compassionate voice telling you that “God understands.” 

God may understand, but He doesn’t accept it. Our Creator has too much compassion, cares too much about us, and is too good to do that.

David C. Hajduk, Ph.D. has over thirty years of experience in religious education and pastoral ministry, including youth, family life, and pro-life ministries. David did his doctoral work in Theology at Maryvale Institute in Birmingham, England, and wrote his dissertation on the thought of St. John Paul II. Since 1998, David has been a member of the Theology Department at Delbarton School in Morristown, New Jersey, and since 2002 has been the Director of Mission and Ministry. David also has served as an Adjunct Professor of Moral Theology at Immaculate Conception Seminary School of Theology at Seton Hall University since 2008. He is the Theological Programming Director for Array of Hope, a ministry in service of the “New Evangelization” that shares the beauty and truth of the Catholic faith through high quality media and events that are current, relevant, and engaging. 

David is an acclaimed and versatile speaker, having given keynote addresses at conferences, presentations to high schools and colleges, parish talks to youth groups, Confirmation classes, and parents, diocesan training workshops, and marriage preparation catechetical days. He is the author of God’s Plan for You: Life, Love, Marriage & Sex (Pauline Books & Media, 2006, 2018), a book for teens on the Theology of the Body, which received the Catholic Press Association of the United States & Canada Book Award in 2007. 

David resides in Belvidere, New Jersey. He and his wife, Shannon, have 11 children and homeschool.

There is a crucial difference between learning anything in a purely intellectual way and accepting something as a rule of life. We can read and hear many different ideas without embracing even one of them as our own personal philosophy – we do this every day. This is a great thing, because without this ability to discern different ways of thinking as right or wrong, we would be tossed back and forth by every new idea we are confronted with.

I learned the first rule of survival in an intellectual way the first time I read Hatchet by Gary Paulsen. This novel was first published in 1986 and has been a young adult classic ever since. In the story, the main character, Brian, is stranded in the wilderness after a plane crash. His life quickly becomes a series of unfortunate events. After he gets quilled by a porcupine, he has a moment of self-pity where he weeps about his current circumstances. It is then that the first rule is revealed to him. It is in that moment of absolute despair that he realizes that feeling sorry for yourself doesn’t work.

The author points out that it’s not that it was wrong to cry or to feel sorrow for the situation, it’s just that doing so doesn’t actually help to make things any better. In this dilemma, Brian was the only person who could improve his circumstances. He could lay there in his pain and misery, which would most likely lead to his death, or he could rise up and fight for his life.

I took that lesson in as I read the book, but I wouldn’t fully embrace the full truth of it until later in life.

When I was a teenager, I essentially prided myself on how difficult my life was. I was ready and willing to defend all of my bad behavior with explanations about the adversity and unfairness in my life. As I got older, I started to realize that the challenges I had to face really didn’t matter to the world. I was either going to take ownership of my life, or I was not – and that decision would be the one to make all the difference.

Some people have to take on some incredible challenges during their lifetimes. I’ve dealt with some myself. I come from a broken home, used drugs, sex, and alcohol as an escape from reality at an early age, and faced racism as early as elementary school. I’ve been heart broken, betrayed by friends, and questioned the existence and/or love of God. I’ve seen the ugliness that results from war firsthand in Afghanistan. Many people have faced much more traumatizing adversity than I have experienced, but this rule is a universal, unbiased truth. It’s not meant to moderate the harshness of one’s life, but to provide clarity on how to rise above the current difficulties one may be facing.

God has created each one of us to be stewards of our mind, body, and soul. We will ultimately be judged on the way that we developed and used the talents and resources He has given us in this lifetime. Think about your heroes. Whether they are saints, professional athletes, musicians, you name it, these are the people who rose faced their challenges head on and accomplished great things in spite of them. They aren’t remembered for feeling pity for themselves, but rather we admire the fact that they took ownership of who they were, what they had, and what they were here to do.

It is time that we, as the living members of the Body of Christ, stop feeling sorry for ourselves. God is calling each one of us to run to Him so that He can heal our every wound. He wants to make us whole so that we can be sent out into the world to bring the message of His great love to all people. Being sent out into the world isn’t some blissful experience consisting only of nice people, sunshine, and rainbows. The world can be an extremely tough and ruthless place, and it often is. Without the light of Christ, it is incredibly dark out there. Who among us will be willing to take this light out into the world? It must be you and me. There is no other way.

I pray you will join me on this great adventure of bringing the light of love, joy, and hope out into the world. As Jesus told His disciples, we are being sent out as sheep among wolves. We are to be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. If we are to survive out here in this dangerous place, it is paramount that we always remember that first rule of survival:  feeling sorry for ourselves does not work.

Nathan Crankfield was born and raised in Harrisburg, PA. He converted to Catholicism at age 13, becoming the first Catholic in his entire family. He graduated from Mount St. Mary’s University in Emmitsburg, MD in 2015. Upon graduation, he was commissioned as a US Army Infantry Officer. He served four years Active Duty during which he graduated from Airborne School, was awarded his Ranger Tab, and deployed to Afghanistan. Nathan now serves as a resident director at Benedictine College and is the founder of Seeking Excellence. His work can be found at https://www.thosewhoseek.org. 

“It’s not so much what you know, but who you know.”  Each of us has likely heard this maxim before, touted as the key to making real progress in your professional life. Well, in the Christian life, it’s actually what you know about who you know that is the key to making real progress.

The saints write about a two-fold knowledge without which we can never advance in the spiritual life or grow in Christian perfection: the knowledge of God and the knowledge of self.  If we get either wrong, we cannot move forward. In fact, since in the spiritual life there is only progress or regress – never stagnation – if we get either wrong we wind up heading in the wrong direction on a road paved with good intentions.

Yet, what we know about God and about ourselves are each twofold as well.

As for God, first we need to know that God is the almighty Creator of heaven and earth, who orders all things according to His providence, and will judge the living and the dead. He is the eternal, immeasurable, incomprehensible, infinite One, who is inexpressibly loftier than anything else which exists or can be imagined.  This should evoke in us a “holy fear” and impel us to offer fitting worship, adoration, thanksgiving, and praise to His great majesty, as well as to keep His commandments meticulously. Yet, in tension with this is a second truth about God. He is a Father who chose us from before the foundation of the world, who knows and cares for our needs, and who pays such careful attention to us that He has counted every hair on our heads. He is the God who is Love and whose name is Mercy, and who sends His only begotten Son to die on a cross so we can have forgiveness of sins and hope of Heaven. In the pierced hands, feet, and side of Jesus we see the length to which God will go to seek and save the lost.

We have also likely heard the Shakespearian verse: “Know thyself, and to thine own self be true.” Well, perhaps… if we recall that there are two sides to self-knowledge that likewise must be held in tension. First, we have an exalted dignity. We are created in the image and likeness of God, we are so valuable that we were bought at the price of the priceless blood of Jesus, we are the adopted sons and daughters of God, the King of Heaven and earth, and if a child, then an heir to the Kingdom. Yet, on the flipside, when we consider the heavens, the moon and stars, what are we that God pays us any mind? We aren’t even a sub-atomic particle in the great scheme of the universe. We are mere creatures, our lives a passing shadow, utterly dependent on God for our being and for our continuing in being. On top of that, we are sinful creatures. The dire reality of our metaphysical situation, as Dietrich von Hildebrand put it, is that no human force can heal the wound inflicted upon our nature by original sin – we are powerless to remove the guilt of sin, the inclination to sin, or the lust that is its inheritance (just read how St. Paul describes it in Romans 7:14-25). And sin is no small thing: it separates us from God and its payback is death. If you need more convincing about sin’s seriousness, look again at the pierced hands, feet, and side of Jesus.

Why is this twofold knowledge necessary for progress in our spiritual lives? This can be summed up in the words of the Devil to St. Catherine of Siena: “Damnable woman! There is no getting at you! If I throw you down in confusion, you lift yourself up to mercy. If I exalt you, you throw yourself down.” The fact is, if we were only to focus on God as the almighty Creator and Judge and on our own insignificance and sinfulness, we would be prone to despair.  If we were only to focus on God’s tender care and loving mercy, and on how “special” and “good” we are because of the dignity that has been bestowed on us (key word: bestowed), then we would be prone to presumption. Despair and presumption, incidentally, are the twin sins against the theological virtue of Hope.

To avoid these, we should do what St. Catherine did. When we are tempted with presumption, we need to remember that God is the almighty Creator and Judge and that we are pathetic sinful creatures incapable of saving ourselves. And when we are tempted with despair, whether due to the weight of our sins and our own feelings of insignificance, we need to remember God’s indomitable love and mercy, and that we are each God’s beloved son or daughter, of more value than the entire universe (as Venerable Fulton Sheen was fond of saying). On all counts, meditating on the pierced hands, feet, and side of Jesus will help to jog our memory.

In the end, what we need is a good dose of honesty. Honesty is acknowledging reality. The reality about us and the reality about God. Then, we will begin to make some real progress.

David C. Hajduk, Ph.D. has over thirty years of experience in religious education and pastoral ministry, including youth, family life, and pro-life ministries. David did his doctoral work in Theology at Maryvale Institute in Birmingham, England, and wrote his dissertation on the thought of St. John Paul II. Since 1998, David has been a member of the Theology Department at Delbarton School in Morristown, New Jersey, and since 2002 has been the Director of Mission and Ministry. David also has served as an Adjunct Professor of Moral Theology at Immaculate Conception Seminary School of Theology at Seton Hall University since 2008. He is the Theological Programming Director for Array of Hope, a ministry in service of the “New Evangelization” that shares the beauty and truth of the Catholic faith through high quality media and events that are current, relevant, and engaging. 

David is an acclaimed and versatile speaker, having given keynote addresses at conferences, presentations to high schools and colleges, parish talks to youth groups, Confirmation classes, and parents, diocesan training workshops, and marriage preparation catechetical days. He is the author of God’s Plan for You: Life, Love, Marriage & Sex (Pauline Books & Media, 2006, 2018), a book for teens on the Theology of the Body, which received the Catholic Press Association of the United States & Canada Book Award in 2007. 

David resides in Belvidere, New Jersey. He and his wife, Shannon, have 11 children and homeschool.

I almost always keep my iPhone on “do not disturb” mode. I’m easily distracted, so it helps guard my mind from the unending notifications coming from text messages, ESPN updates, news headlines, and the like. Luckily, though, Apple Inc. also gives me the option of putting contacts in my “Favorites,” allowing their calls to come through even when I’m on “do not disturb.” This is reserved for a select group of people. We all have people whose calls we would hate to miss. These are people who mean the most to me and will likely have something important that they need or want to say when they call. They have earned one of the greatest honors I have the power to bestow on people – the ability to interrupt me.

Interruptions come in many forms. I can think back to so many occasions where I’ve sat down to read and had a text notification come through on my watch. I think to myself that it will just take a second to respond, then unknowingly find that half my allotted reading time was just spent mindlessly scrolling memes on Instagram. With half of my time gone, it seems almost pointless to read now. Better that I put it off until later, when surely I’ll have more free time to focus and really dive deep into the book. We all know what happens later – an offer from a friend to hang out or an extra episode (or five) of The Office, and my reading time has now officially been moved to tomorrow.

Knowing we can all fall victim to such circumstances, we have to enact “do not disturb” mode, or similar tricks, to place boundaries around our time and attention. However, we also know these boundaries can become excessive when taken to the extreme, which is why we have things like the list of favorites in our contacts. We know that some things are worthy of breaking through our plans and taking our attention by force. Some things are just that important. Some people are just that important.

Is God that important to you?

Does Jesus have your permission to interrupt your day?

All too often, we try to avoid people who want something from us. This is likely why we strive to avoid eye contact with the homeless man on the street or the horribly annoying woman trying to get us to try some eye cream at a mall kiosk. We assume they just want to take our time and money, without giving anything desirable in return. I think people avoid contact with God for the same reasons. We often push God out of our lives because we know He will eventually demand something from us. He wants our time, our money, our talents. He wants our whole being to be dedicated to Him. That’s a large order. Because He wants all of these things, He doesn’t make it into most people’s list of Favorites.

I had this realization as I was watching a live stream of Pope Francis’s holy hour and his urbi et orbi blessing. To be honest, I had pretty much zoned out after about twenty minutes of the event. He was praying/speaking in either Italian or Latin, with no English subtitles or translation. I figured there wasn’t much for me to gain from it, so I began checking emails. About 15 minutes later, I finally realized that it had been silent for some time. I glanced at the screen and saw the Blessed Sacrament exposed in a beautiful monstrance, with the Holy Father in the background deep in prayer. I paused and sat there for a moment. I closed my laptop and just sat there and spoke with Jesus. I had already gone on a prayer walk that morning and planned to do a rosary and stations of the cross later that afternoon, so I really didn’t plan on sitting in silence during this thing, but I felt Jesus calling out to me to just spend some time with Him.

It was a beautiful experience. I sat there quietly, admiring Jesus along with Pope Francis and millions of other Catholics throughout the world. In that moment, I realized how badly God wants to interject Himself into our lives and how often we deny Him entry. I’ve invited many people to mass or to prayer with me over the years. Sometimes we have legitimate reasons to do something else, but other times you can tell that God just isn’t a priority to people. Our bosses, Instagram, emails, among many other things can always steal our time, but God? He’s going to have to wait. I don’t have time for Him right now. Work, grocery shopping, walking the dog, making dinner, or whatever task is currently at hand is far too important to stop and spend a moment with the Lord.

I stopped, then, and spent a moment asking God to make me aware of the times in my own life that I’ve failed to make time for Him or allow Him to interrupt my day. I often pray that my relationship with God will be the most important one in my life, and I do believe that can be measured by how much authority I give Him to interrupt my life.

The most important people in my life are given the most permission to interrupt me. This list is decided by a number of factors. My mom is on the list because she has known me and loved me longer and more deeply than anybody I know. My boss is always on the list because I desire his approval and want to be readily available to do what he needs done. But who has known me longer and loved me more than my God has? Do I not desire God’s approval above that of man? Do I want to be readily available to serve God as he sees fit?

This idea was solidified further when I dared to ask myself, what else do we do for those we love most?

We put pictures of them up in our house. We seek to stay in touch with them as often as possible through a number of different means. We buy them gifts and do whatever they need to be done through acts of service. We affirm them for their worth and express gratitude for having them in our lives. We seek to spend time with them in their physical presence. We desire what’s best for them to the point that we would sacrifice our own will and well-being in order to bring that to life.

How does what you do for God stack up against these, relatively common, acts?   

I have had many times where a boss, a girlfriend, a family member, or even a task, hobby, or TV show has been far prioritized over the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I do it almost every single day. I choose to watch YouTube or scroll the news before I pray or read some Scripture. I choose conversations with friends over time in the chapel. I choose to sleep in rather than show up to church early for prayer. I choose to make work more urgent and important than connecting with God.

I know that the extraordinary happens when God is brought into the ordinary. I know miracles take place when we fully trust in God and place Him first and foremost in our lives. I’ve heard the stories of Mother Teresa increasing the sisters’ prayer time from one hour to two in times of overwhelming workloads and pressure. I know she watched miracles happen as she gave more time to God and less time to the things of this world. But right now, I don’t need a miracle. Right now, I need to finish this project. I need to respond to this email. I need to text this person back. I need to watch just one more YouTube video. I need to make sure everything is just right. I don’t need to bring God into this moment. I just need some time to get things done. I can do this on my own. I’ll get to God later.

I don’t want to live like that. I have already learned the hard way that when Jesus said, “apart from me you can do nothing,” He meant it. I want Jesus to be the #1 person in my life. I want to display that both inwardly and outwardly. I want pictures of Him in my house. I want to stay in touch with Him as much as possible through a number of different means (prayer, the Bible, the sacraments, the Rosary, etc.). I want to present Him with gifts through my tithing and serve Him in whatever ways He wants. I want to express my gratitude and affirm His central position in my life. I want to prioritize spending time in His physical presence in tabernacles around the world. I want to sacrifice my own will and even well-being for the sake of His Kingdom.

Jesus is not some annoying mall salesman trying to get you to buy a facemask you’ll later regret spending $60 on. He does want your time and everything you’ve got, but what He promises to give in return is something far greater than we could ever imagine. He commands us to spend time with Him. He commands us to make Him the center of all that we do and all that we are. This demands sacrifice.

When was the last time you did something sacrificial for God?

If you believe Jesus suffered and died for you, give him the opportunity to interrupt you. Jesus is calling out to you, eagerly waiting to show you His great mercy and love.

Will you answer the call of Jesus today?

Nathan Crankfield was born and raised in Harrisburg, PA. He converted to Catholicism at age 13, becoming the first Catholic in his entire family. He graduated from Mount St. Mary’s University in Emmitsburg, MD in 2015. Upon graduation, he was commissioned as a US Army Infantry Officer. He served four years Active Duty during which he graduated from Airborne School, was awarded his Ranger Tab, and deployed to Afghanistan. Nathan now serves as a parish consultant at the Dynamic Catholic Institute and is the founder of Seeking Excellence. His work can be found at https://www.thosewhoseek.org.