WITH A GREAT DELIGHT

Tuesday after the Fourth Sunday in Lent

What we believe matters. The things we do, great and small, we do because we believe things. If I believe it’s possible for an individual to make a difference in our political system, I’ll vote. If I think the whole thing is rigged and my voice will never be heard, I’ll stay home on polling day. If I believe I’m the World’s Handsomest Man, I’ll save my money for a bus ticket to Hollywood and present myself at the main gate at Paramount Studios (where I can stand in line behind all the other men—they are legion—who believe the same thing). If I believe in God, I’ll act differently than if I don’t believe in Him. Of course, what I believe about the God I believe in matters, too.

So the Church has the Creeds; they tell us what Christians believe—and have believed—from the beginning. The Creeds are old—but that’s not why we believe ‘em—there are some creeds which most Christians have never heard of, which we DON’T believe. The Books of the Bible are old, too, but that’s not why we believe them. There are many, many old books that survive to us from ancient times—more than 40 books which claim to be Gospels!—that the Church has rejected. The Church long ago rejected those old creeds and gospels because She believes what they teach is untrue (you can still find some of those old books circulating under some title like “The Lost Books of the Bible Revealed!” They’re just collections of old stuff from the Church’s garbage can). She discarded them because they said things about God or Christ that are simply not true. Many books, for example, of the old Gnostic cult—one of Christianity’s oldest errors—teach that all created things, everything that has a material existence—is evil, created not by God but by His evil twin—to trick us. He (the God of the Bible) wants us to worship Him instead of the true Gnostic God; but if we memorize the right set of words and phrases, we can fool Him and go to the real Gnostic heaven when we die by knowing the Secret Words. If you are foolish enough to believe this mumjo-jumbo and spend a lot of your time memorizing secret words you will be in for a bit of an Eternal Shock when the times comes.

The Church enshrines her teaching in the Creeds and Scriptures because they are “for us men and for our salvation.” I want to discuss with you a word which isn’t secret—it is kind of fun—and it tells us something important about ourselves, God and Lent.

The word is concupiscence. Like a lot of words from Latin and Greek, it comes from mashing two words together. In this case, the word con—which means “with” (like “chili con carne”) and cupere—which means “desire” or “delight.” Concupiscence means “with a great delight”; it’s the Latin translation—used in the King James Bible—of the Greek word epithumia, which means “with a great and passionate longing.” St Paul, St John and St James repeatedly use this word to describe us—and how much we delight in sin.

Concupiscence isn’t the same as sin. Concupiscence is why we like—love—and delight in sin. It’s what makes sin so attractive. Each of us is concupiscent, each of us loves to sin, ever since Eve bit the apple and Adam said okay. You are and so am I. Here’s a way you can touch gently on your own concupiscence: picture somebody you really dislike. Once you have that person in mind, imagine that you’ve just learned the IRS is going to audit their taxes for the last seven years. That feeling you have now—that delight in what’s going to happen to them—that’s concupiscence.

It’s not sinful, but it takes us to the threshold of sin. Whenever you and I are tempted, we’re presented with a choice. The choice is hand-picked just for you. Like many men, I have no interest in how I look—it rarely occurs to me (that’s not to say I’m not vain, I am, but my vanity takes an intellectual form). A mirror holds little interest or temptation for me—but for some people, a mirror is a window of sensual delight; they fall into it entranced. We each have our favorite sins (teachers of the spiritual life call these our “besetting sins”). If you think you don’t have any, think again. If you actually intend to grow in your spiritual life with Christ, you need to know what they are, because they are the things which not only hinder your growth, they poison your life.

The tempter (who exists, regardless how smart or sophisticated we believe ourselves to be, and how “old-fashioned” we may think belief in the devil is) knows you better than you know yourself. He knows how to tempt you. He knows the bad stuff you love. So, when you’re primed, he presents something to you—something he knows you’ll be interested in. “Wilcox—hey—look over there. Is that—YES, IT IS—a beautifully bound set of Cicero’s Orations in Latin. Two hundred bucks. I know you’d set aside that two hundred fifty for charity—but hey—charity begins at home, huh? And look, even with taxes, you could buy those books—which you’ll own forever—and still have something to donate. Who’s ever to know?—and besides, buddy, you deserve it.” And so the door to hell is opened.

I haven’t yet sinned, but I’m sure wanting to. I ponder the books and the money. I’m in the middle of temptation. If I pull out my cash (which I’d already decided wasn’t my cash, but now my mind’s changed) and count it out, I’ve sinned. If I pull out my wallet, look at the money and remember I’ve already given it away and it’s no longer mine; if I realize I’m stealing, and put it back, I haven’t sinned. The sooner I get rid of that money and give it to charity, the better.

I delighted in the books, though, with a great delight. The problem isn’t the books, it’s me; the problem isn’t the delight in the books, either (how could such a thing be a sin?). The problem is that I put my desire and delight above what’s right. We do it all the time. Most of us don’t sin by holding up grandmothers on street corners or selling drugs to school kids, we sin by satisfying our desires at the expense of what is right and good.

St James the Apostle wrote: “When concupiscence has conceived, it gives birth to sin: and sin, when it is finished, delivers death.” This is at the heart of our Lenten combat. We’re fighting our concupiscence, our love and delight in sin. Tomorrow, we’ll talk about how we do that.

For today, keep putting one foot after the other. The desert doesn’t go on forever-and when it's passed, you're going to find every step worthwhile.