Original Sin and the "New" Normal

If anyone asserts that the transgression of Adam injured him alone and not his posterity,[7] and that the holiness and justice which he received from God, which he lost, he lost for himself alone and not for us also; or that he, being defiled by the sin of disobedience, has transfused only death and the pains of the body into the whole human race, but not sin also, which is the death of the soul, let him be anathema, since he contradicts the Apostle who says: By one man sin entered into the world and by sin death; and so death passed upon all men, in whom all have sinned.

(Council of Trent; Session V "Decree Concerning Original Sin")

I was recently enjoyed a novel, and, in particular, a vignette involving a young man's feelings of bliss upon learning that the love of his life returned his affections and that the two would soon marry. The author detailed the overwhelming impact that new romantic love played at that moment in the young man's life. As any good novel should, this piece of fiction reminded me of my own life, of my own feelings at similar moments in time, when I believed that I had discovered a happiness that was so profound, so life-changing and so complete that I could not imagine ever experiencing a melancholy moment again. I thought specifically of my wife and how the much the moment that we were began a life together meant to me: how I pondered at the moment that all of the useless relationships, the mis-fires, the mistakes I had made seemed to be corrected in a relationship with this one person. I remember feeling that this young woman was everything I had ever wanted and was everything I would ever want. I could not imagine ever wanted anything else again.

Fast forward eighteen years: I am happily married to that same (not so) young woman. Six beautiful children has sprung from our union. It is no exaggeration that my wife and I literally grew up with one another -- we went from glorified adolescents to a creaky married mother and father. The time that separates those first exhilarating moments and today have been filled with joys and tears, with great triumphs and miserable failures -- they have been filled with the "stuff" of fallen human beings learning the hard way to "get on" in the world. It hasn't always been pretty, and it has always been filled with the unexpected, but we persevere together. Only God knows how difficult at times it has been, but the thing about our marriage is that we were uniquely situated -- by personality type, by past experiences, by present interests, by intellectual curiosities -- to find God with one another. Of virtually all of the women I could have married if life had taken just a slightly different trajectory, I am quite sure that I would have essentially rejected faith and its demands. For my wife, the same would seem to be true. But together -- and not in a neat line but rather in a jagged and often circuitous line -- we grew in faith. It is no accident, none at all, that I met my wife exactly when I did -- my literal salvation depended on her

But this point brings me back to the reason of this post: that we often have these moments, seminal moments, in which we are so happy, so complete, so satisfied that we cannot imagine unhappiness in any conceivable way. I think of the day that my first child was born -- what a new and completely unexpected experience. What joy I felt when I held for the first time a child of my own. I thought of the day that I graduated law school; surrounded by family and friends, it seemed on that bright sunny day in May that my whole future lay happily before me. I thought of other days as well.

These happy days, as we all know, give way to more sober and sometimes depressing days. How is it that I so quickly forget how thankful I was that God gave me a spouse that without I was so miserable? How is that the joy that God gave me on the day I became a father has been, more often than not, replaced with the frustration that accompanies being a father? Why, in the hum-drum ordinariness of my life, do I forget all of these things? Why do I so easily focus on those things that are both trivial and annoying but forget those weighty things that are gifts from a Loving God?

There are many anecdotal proofs for the reality of "original sin." That human beings, while not being wholly depraved, are incapable of getting things right -- in both small and big ways -- is so evident, so perceptive and so right that even atheists do not disagree.

It occurred to me that another proof of the manifestation of original sin occurs in what I would call acclimating to the "new" normal. Original sin is, of course, not that same as actual sin: it is not as if babies in a state of ignorance are culpable of sin. Rather, it is a nature, a fallen nature, that is inclined towards the sinful. Unadorned human experience testifies that man is pulled towards vice. He has to work diligently and carefully -- in what amounts to a lifelong task -- to overcome his disposition towards sinfulness. And, of course, that will not be enough. Without the grace of God, man cannot overcome his nature.

The certainty that man will forget his blessings and grumble in the face of them testifies to our fallen nature. For example, at one time of my life, I wanted meaningful companionship. When I was single, I thought about this and hoped for it. The elation in finding it with my future wife satiated that desire, and ever-so-slowly, the elation ebbed into the "new" normal. That need I once had was requited such that it was no longer needed or even, eventually, appreciated. I acclimated to my wife and imperceptibly took the gift that she was in my life for granted. I did the same -- often on a lesser scale -- with a thousand things. New ideas and new desires took hold of my imagination as they often do. "I would be so happy if I had X" and so on. Once the "new" normal takes hold, all of those previous blessings are forgotten and replaced with new wants.

Because we are fallen, none of us can know with certainty what the preternatural gifts of our first parents was like. Yes, we know certain things about them -- about the strength of the natural virtues, etc. but what it really meant to have preternatural gifts, how "we" would be different is difficult to imagine. One thing, it seems to me, that those gifts would confer is the ability to appreciate -- in perpetuity -- the gifts of God freely given that we desired. For example, before the fall, it must have been for Adam an ever-present recollection of how gracious God had been to give him a companion in Eve. He never acquired the "new" normal. The preternatural "normal" would have been an ever-present sense of thanksgiving. Think of what life would be like if we could recall -- if our natures would allow -- all of the good things that the Lord freely gave us. It would be vastly different than the one that we currently live

Resolutions: we often make them and upon reflection I make one now. I resolve to remember how good God was to give my wife, my children, my parents, my talents, and so on. All of the things that make my life what it is, I resolve to remember and appreciate and the next moment that the inevitable pang of dissatisfaction creeps into my mind, I resolve to meet it with an Act of Thanksgiving for all that God has given me. While we are prisoners, by our very nature, of the "new" normal and art of complaining, we can and should ask God to free us from our fallen natures. We should remember to confess all of those moments we have presumed on God's gifts, ignored them or even despised them. The fact that this happens should force us to our knees with contrition in our hearts.

May God help me keep this resolution.