January 19, 2025
2nd Sunday in Ordinary Time
[…] “Everyone serves good wine first, and then when people have drunk freely, an inferior one; but you have kept the good wine until now.”
- John 2:10
And not wine simply, but the best. For such are the miraculous works of Christ, they are far more perfect and better than the operations of nature.
- St. John Chrysostom, Homily 22 on the Gospel of John
Once, I was asked by one of my atheist friends, “Why is Jesus called the Lamb of God?” I then explained to him the reference to the Passover lamb sacrifice, and the view that I had heard from many Christians—that his sacrifice was a necessary payment for the penalty of human sin. My atheist friend then voiced the question that also lurked in the back of my mind: “But if God’s the one who makes the rules, couldn’t He just forgive us by lifting the penalty, like a parent can spare a child from punishment?” After doing more research, I found that the view I had learned is sometimes called the theory of penal substitutionary atonement, which is held by many Protestants, and that the Catholic view is... not exactly that! To avoid deep diving into a whole theological lecture, I’ll simply say that the official Catholic view is that God in fact could have simply lifted the penalty (as my atheist friend said—He makes the rules!), but Jesus’ sacrifice is the specific way that God chose (among quite possibly an infinite number of other ways) to demonstrate His mercy, and that Jesus’ total obedience at every moment in his life up until his death achieves a superabundant merit that infinitely outweighs the stain of human sin (this is sometimes called the satisfaction theory, originating from St. Anselm and developed by St. Thomas Aquinas).
I say this because it ties in with the idea of supererogatory good, the fancy term that moral philosophers use for goodness that goes beyond the bare minimum. Say, if I buy a coffee at French Press (another one of my go-to places!), I should at least pay for it—an obligatory good which failing to fulfill would make me morally culpable. If I pay for it AND throw in a 30% tip, that would be a supererogatory good—something I could do even if I wouldn’t incur any moral culpability for not doing it. There are many instances in the Gospels where Jesus teaches supererogatory goodness, such as turning the other cheek, giving your coat in addition to your shirt, etc. Orthodox Christian philosopher Richard Swinburne would even say that when one pursues the Christian way, acts that would otherwise be supererogatory become obligatory, i.e. the bare minimum is raised. In this Sunday’s Gospel, the headwaiter notes the supererogatory good in Jesus’ first public miracle at the wedding at Cana.
And why all this talk of supererogatory goodness? Well, on New Year’s Day, I visited my newfound friend, who told me that she felt undeserving of so many blessings that God had given her. So, I invited my friend to sing with all her heart about the superabundant, supererogatory goodness of God in her life, as our music ministry will be using my favorite goodness-themed song—Goodness of God—at the 9:30, 11:00, and 5:00 Masses this Sunday. To keep the mystery, I won’t say which friend this is, or which Mass she’ll be at, but what I can say is… she plays a mean flute!
With my peace,
Carlo Serrano, Music Director
