More on Sin from Balthasar by Oakes

"It is just that the saints are given to see without veils what the rest of us would just as soon not care to know."

Hans Urs von Balthasar makes this statement in his book on Karl Barth (The Theology of  Karl Barth, by Hans Urs von Balthasar, translated by Edward T. Oakes, Ignatius Press, 1992, p. 375.) Balthasar goes on to remind us of the communal nature of sin; something we intuitively know to be true, but somehow fail to keep in the fore when considering the behavior of our brethren. 

"Here we confront the mystery of man's solidarity in sin. Every personal sin is also a community sin: both in the sense of impairing the community but also being caused, to some extent, by the community’s sin. Far from circumscribing sin, it makes it weightier, putting new burdens of responsibility in the sinner. And since the effects of evil committed and good deeds left undone increase and multiply relentlessly, our debt is not paid off when our personal guilt is forgiven."

"The just man, to the extent that he shares an active portion in the holiness of the Redeemer, also receives a more active portion in the task of bearing a guilt not his own, thereby sharing in the very work of redemption. This finally reaches the point where he can no longer distinguish whether he is suffering for his own sins or for that of others. For Christ himself, when he was hanged on the Cross, no longer wished to make this distinction either. He endured God's malediction against sin, suffering vicariously for us all. And, because of Christ, the sinner who wants to share in the sufferings can no longer make this distinction either. The true follower of Christ joins Christ in that darkness that is all the more bitter because he knows he can never suffer alongside of Christ. No, this suffering highlights how deeply bound he is in solidarity with all his fellow sinners, who are jointly responsible for the cross of Christ."

Balthasar - A Dialectic Between Sin and the Cross

In the previous post Balthasar speaks of  our participation in the cross of Christ, "Such participation, as the Lord wishes, can go to the extremes of powerlessness, spiritual darkness, forsakeness and rejection; since these things are sharing in the cross ..." He here indicates the Ignatian roots of his spirituality. He goes on in the following to further delve into St. Ignatius' exercises as we contemplate our own sin and the sin of the world.

from pp. 298-300

But there is a dialectic in our contemplation of sin in the light of the cross: only by looking at my Redeemer can I understand the extent of what I have done. In the face of redeeming love I am pierced through by a nameless terror: I might be, indeed I am a murderer of Eternal Love; no excuses are of any avail; I deserve unconditional damnation. Beholding the handiwork of ultimate love between Father, Son and Spirit, performed for me, loveless as I am, I begin to understand that I do not belong among them, that I do not have love and thus I'm deserving of eternal wrath. Indeed, I merit destruction and banishment from the whole divine order:

"A shout of astonishment and profound love, as I think how every created thing has not refused to keep me alive. The angels, the sword of God's justice, have put up with me, protected me, prayed for me: the saints have gone on praying and interceding on my behalf: the sky, the sun, the moon, the stars, the natural elements, the fruits of the earth, birds, fish, the whole animal kingdom…; Why is not the very earth opened to swallow me, creating new hells for my eternal torment?" (Exercises, 60)  [St. Ignatius]… does not neglect to put the contemplation of general and personal sinfulness in the theological context of the redemption. Each individual reflection leads up to the Colloquies with the merciful Lord "hanging on the Cross before me", whose love shows me what I have (not) done for Christ, what I am (not) doing for Christ, and what I shall (not) do for Christ. And it is within this “kind of talk friends have with one another, or perhaps like the way a servant speaks to his master" (Exercises, 54) that I become aware that I have thoroughly deserved hell. Unless it acquires a profile by being contrasted with redeeming love, the idea of hell will remain fantastic and imaginary, impossible for us to take absolutely seriously in our prayer. But, once it has this firm outline, it is what "stops the mouth" (Rom. 3:10) of the sinner who is always trying to find some reason why God cannot really abandon a man.