Theology of the Body, Part 4: Faith in Analogies

Christopher West's Theology of the Body for Beginners: A Basic Introduction to Pope John Paul II's Sexual Revolution impresses me as a "typically Catholic" book, if only because it glories in analogies.

For example, West draws an analogy between the "one flesh" nuptial union that married couples seek here in this world, and the "divine reality" which we who hope to be saved can expect to enter into: direct, personal communion with God when this life is over and we are in heaven. Jesus accordingly taught, "In the resurrection they neither marry nor are given in marriage (Matthew 22:30; see pp. 55ff.). Along these lines, West tells us, "the 'primordial sacrament' [of God-ordained marriage here on earth] will give way to the divine reality" in an afterlife in which there is no longer any need for marriage, sex, and procreation as we know it (p. 56).

No sex in heaven, then, alas ... but still, here in this world, marriage and sex are fountains of earthly delight that, viewed aright, direct our gaze heavenward: "They help us set our sights on the union [with God] that alone will satisfy" (p. 57).

At the Bible's end, Christ as Bridegroom weds his church as Bride, and (says West, p. 61) throughout scripture, from Genesis on, "the nuptial imagery is unmistakable." At the same time, though, West makes clear that "when using nuptial union as an image of heaven, it's more important than ever to remember the inadequacy of analogies. Caution is necessary. Heaven is not some eternally magnified experience of sexual union on earth. As John Paul II observes, the union to come 'will be a completely new experience.' Yet 'at the same time,' [the Pope goes on], 'it will not be alienated in any way from the love that man and woman experienced in 'the beginning' and have sought to reclaim throughout history ... ."

Thus, the special value of analogies as images of divine realities. On the one hand, they are indispensible for providing us with some insight into mysteries, such as the nature of heaven, which we ordinarily couldn't fathom. On the other hand, every spiritual analogy has its limits, knowable to reason and common sense. We must be ever on guard against turning an "icon" — say, the God-ordained sexual union of a married couple, taken as an image of the communion of saints in heaven — into an "idol" that is sought after for its own sake, here in life on this earth. (See pp. 56ff. for more on the distinction between "icons" and "idols.")

This is the way we Catholics often look at theological matters: by virtue of conceptual analogies that are to be understood almost intuitively, but are also to be tested by reason and common sense. Notice that there is no assertion in the Catholic outlook concerning the afterlife that heaven will "really" be anything like what we know here and now. Just the opposite: as the late pope says, heaven will be "a completely new experience."


I contrast the profoundly analogical outlook in Catholicism with the worldview expressed by pastor Ted Haggard, President of the National Association of Evangelicals, on a recent TV special, Is Heaven Somewhere out There Beyond the Stars? Barbara Walters Takes Viewers on a Heavenly Journey. Walters interviewed all manner of "experts" on the subject of what heaven is and how we get there. Haggard, as a sort of stand-in for a "pope" of America's conspicuously popeless evangelical Christians, told Walters (among other things) that he personally thinks of heaven as having multiple "neighborhoods," since Jesus tells us right out it has many "mansions."

Presumably, if there are "mansions" in heaven, then there are "neighborhoods" around the mansions, or so Haggard's reasoning goes. In a very concrete sense, then, Hagggard's version of heaven is not a completely new experience. Instead, in many ways it's just like what we've already experienced here on earth ... without any of the bad stuff, of course.

What I detect here is a disinclination on Haggard's part to comprehend analogically. Rather, he seems to be saying that when we read the Bible, the most concrete and literal interpretation that immediately comes to mind is the one that is most assuredly right, since such an interpretation will be in no way "abstract," and therefore highly suspect.


It occurs to me that such an outlook is entirely consistent, may God bless it, with a faith tradition which has no central authority: no pope, no Vatican, no Curia, no magisterium or teaching authority, no hierarchy of priests, and no organized doctrine.

When Christians are called to read scripture and interpret it directly for themselves, as evangelicals are, then (it stands to reason) how do you expect them to agree on stuff? One answer to this conundrum seems to be to favor the strictly literal reading of the words of the Bible. To avoid abstraction, hence, is to skirt disunity.

The traditional Catholic approach is different: the individual Catholic is expected to read the Bible nowadays — yes; that revision to the everyday Catholic's lifestyle began at about the time of Vatican II — but always to interpret it with the help of the traditional magisterium of the church and all those lay explicators, such as Christopher West, who are in tune with it. The church over time accretes a reasoned, internally consistent, unabashedly analogical approach to understanding the whole Gospel message. That carefully worked out outlook informs us everyday Catholics in the pews of, among other things, when "caution is necessary" in order to avoid taking an analogical "icon" (e.g., married sex as a pointer to heavenly bliss) and making it into a concrete "idol" (sex as an end in itself).


This subject fascinates me, because I have to admit that the Catholic, "abstract," analogical approach thrills me to the marrow, spiritually speaking, while the evangelical, "concrete," literal approach leaves me cold. Yet I also have to admit that the deep cleft between Catholics and evangelicals strikes me as wrong. Christians are supposed to exhibit solidarity and brotherhood, not disharmony and discord.

West's book is a case in which I suspect Catholics and evangelicals would have no trouble agreeing on West's (and John Paul II's) conclusions about what is and is not morally right, sexually speaking. But I also suspect that many evangelicals, if they read this book at all, would be put off by West's extremely "Catholic" — i.e., analogical — way of reasoning to arrive at such conclusions. They would no doubt prefer to note the Bible passages which call homosexuality an "abomination," say, and then add, quite simply, "God said it. I believe it. That settles it."

Their evangelical faith is fully invested in God, Jesus, and the Bible ... and not, it seems, in analogies.