Divine Orientation
De Lubac’s Balancing Act in Nature & Grace
When exploring sacramental theology, the avoidance of error necessitates an acute sense of balance. Heretical pitfalls abound. This balancing act applies to the underlying theological principles as well as to specific sacramental practices, for when it comes to the Holy Sacraments, principle and practice must operate in harmony. More than mere complements, the doctrinal and the practical, the macro and the micro are inseparable. As such, it is imperative that Catholics walk a tightrope between an overly broad metaphysical emphasis on sacramentality and an overly narrow materialistic focus on the Sacraments themselves. Overemphasizing one necessarily comes at the expense of the other; after all, “Christian faith does not exist piecemeal” (130).
We witness an ideal display of the requisite balancing act in Henri de Lubac’s A Brief Catechesis on Nature and Grace. As is the case with sacramental theology, when it comes to human nature, sin, and grace, the path of orthodoxy fixes its tightrope between two paradoxical endpoints. We are indeed fallen creatures, subject to concupiscence and death, and yet we are indeed intrinsically ordered toward God. Not one or the other — both. Peril lies in losing sight of their inseparability. It is now fashionable to picture ourselves living in a fully “graced” world, where everything is magic and nothing is profane. In this exaggerated hypothetical, however, we can see how such a misunderstanding would actually cause the opposite of the desired result. By imagining magic everywhere, we erode any substantial belief in the sacred. When everything is considered holy, nothing is.
In avoiding this accidental desacralization, we must be careful not to commit intentional desacralization — for there are ditches to our right and left. It is equally dangerous to lose sight of the heavenly among the mundane, rendering all that is sacred, profane. Such reductions cripple our understanding and arrest progress. De Lubac clarifies this dichotomy by unraveling the relationship between sin and grace: a person who “declares that he is allergic to ‘grace’, … is first allergic to the very idea of sin” (128). To proceed without falling, we must learn to distinguish between grace and sin, between the holy and the profane, noting where they intersect and where they diverge. The disordered overreactions reviewed earlier may result in opposing conclusions, but the mistakes that motivate them are closely related in kind. Each leans too far in one direction while losing sight of the other. As with all tightropes, we must remain fixed to both sides to maintain stability.
Turning back to de Lubac shows us the way forward. Without succumbing to the intrinsicist pitfall, he reinforces the intimate relationship between sinful nature and divine grace by highlighting the orientation of humanity. This “divine orientation” doesn’t diminish the need for grace to restore right relationship with God. On the contrary, it underscores the necessity of sacramental reconciliation. Not only does it point to our telos as divinely-oriented creations: it outlines the scope of privation in terms of fulfilling this innate purpose and related longing. It illuminates the grace-shaped chasm between God’s design and our reality. God formed us in such a way that our very existence calls us back to him. But in our fallen world, that future communion is yet to be realized. Grace bridges the gap.
In the previous example — as in my initial articulation of the dialectic between sacramentality and the Sacraments — we see that grace is not a stagnant state of being, but an active communication of and with the divine. We actually receive grace through the Sacraments. The incarnation of this grace-lined communication occurs most profoundly in the Sacrament of Sacraments, as St. Thomas Aquinas affectionately calls Holy Communion. Reflecting on the aforementioned divine orientation, coupled with the human condition of sin and death, reminds us that life is deeply interactive, created in statu viae. God invites us to actively participate in the divine economy through the Sacraments. It is a universal invitation to live in grace with particular applications of grace. That is why “sin is not the simple refusal to abide by a law, … but a refusal of God’s invitation to share his life” (169). We have to choose to accept the gift.
Controversy dogged Henri de Lubac for years, largely centered on his articulation of human nature as intrinsically ordered toward the divine. Critics accused him of cheapening grace, rather than prioritizing the gratuity of God’s gift. Some claimed he had ventured too far into Pelagian territory. I think such criticism is the result of an overly narrow, oftentimes cursory fixation on particular articulations, rather than a balanced analysis of his overall approach and theological underpinnings. De Lubac is in fact an ideal guide for our modern discourse on sin and grace precisely because he successfully navigates the narrow path between two extremes, embracing the mystical realities of our grace-infused world without forgetting that, “To be saved, man must first be freed from his own sins, liberated from himself” (160). He correctly observes the relevant points of tension with respect to nature and grace, but any perceived problems with his approach stem from paradoxes, not contradictions.
In his attempts to uphold orthodoxy while probing the boundaries of familiar concepts, de Lubac goes to great lengths to maintain balance and avoid letting paradoxes disintegrate into contradictions. De Lubac carefully delineates between nature and the supernatural by reiterating orthodox ideas of nature and grace, concupiscence and soteriology: any perceived overemphases should be filtered through this interpretative funnel. As we have seen, he neither downplays sin nor conflates the natural and supernatural, despite noting their close connection. Throughout Nature and Grace, de Lubac highlights the transcendence of God as well as his nearness to us. He continually underscores the importance of active participation in the divine calling; we are called to accept and embrace “this sharing in the divine life [that] was offered to man in Christ” (170). Human nature is indeed oriented toward God, but the journey to our heavenly home is anything but passive. Salvation depends on God’s gratuitous gift of grace. It materializes through our participation in the Sacraments.