On Snickering

Or, a Short Discourse on the Epistemic Consequences of Sin

I preached in chapel at United on Tuesday. A colleague who recently took my New Testament intro approached me afterward and said, “Dr. Watson, I came by to tell you about my disappointment with your sermon.” Fair enough. I can take it. She continued. “You didn’t mention the epistemic consequences of sin.” Then she snickered and walked off.

As they say in back Texas, “Dang.” She was like a cold-blooded assassin, hoisting me by the petard of my own lecture notes. Sure, from time to time I talk about the way sin affects our thinking. One might even say I address this topic frequently. But does that justify snickering? I could see the appropriateness of a sidelong glance, even a wry smile, but snickering is another thing altogether.

Still, while we’re on the topic of the epistemic consequences of sin, I do have a few thoughts.

A man lighting a petard to blow open a door. Also, my colleague, snickering at my sermon. Pearson Scott Foresman, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Look, all teachers have a few themes they emphasize again and again. I’m no different. One of the theological themes I see represented in the New Testament, especially in Paul’s letters, is the noetic effects of sin. This is a term theologians use to talk about sin’s impact on the mind. Sin isn’t just something we do. It is all the gone-wrongness of creation, and it comes to bear on what we do because it affects the way we think. Because of sin, we see the world in the wrong way. We want the wrong things. We think good is bad and bad is good.

Take the example of Romans 1. Paul doesn’t teach us here that God caused people to think the wrong way and want the wrong things. Rather, God “gave them up in the lust of their hearts to impurity” (1: 24). In other words, he simply let them coast ever deeper into the morass of sin. ln chapter 6 Paul warns readers not to let sin “reign” (basileuetō) in their mortal bodies (v. 12), and he reminds his readers that “you once presented your members as slaves to impurity and to greater and greater iniquity” (v. 19). In 2 Corinthians, Paul writes that the gospel is “veiled to those who are perishing” 4:3). The “god of this world” has “blinded the mind of unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God” (4:4).

Another way of talking about this is to say that sin has epistemic consequences. The word “epistemic” means “having to do with knowledge.” We know things in different ways, such as through deduction, induction, observation, and memory. As an example, consider the following statement: “On Tuesday, a colleague snickered at me because I talk too much about the epistemic consequences of sin.”

You might well respond, “How do you know?”

“Well, I remember the whole incident very clearly. How could one forget such a thing?”

In this case, my claim is that I know something because I remember it. This is a claim about knowledge, an epistemic claim.

Or, consider the statement, “My colleague is snickering at me.” How do I know this? I see her doing it. I’m claiming to know something through direct observation.

My interpretation of my memory or observation, however, could be incorrect. For example, let’s say that, because of something in my past, I’m particularly sensitive to snickering, and I often interpret innocent laughter as snickering. In that case, something has distorted my perception and given me an impression that I falsely interpret as knowledge. Or, let’s say that a practical joker put a hallucinogen in my coffee, and the whole incident was an illusion. Again, some factor caused me to perceive things incorrectly.

This is similar to the way sin works. Some thoughts, words, and deeds are consistent with God’s will. Others are not. What is consistent with the will of God is good. What is inconsistent with the will of God is sinful. (And some things are morally neutral, like whether I want mustard or ketchup on my hamburger.) Sin inhibits my ability to distinguish what is good from what is bad. John Chrysostom explains the matter with typical eloquence. I quote him at length here because he’s so doggone good. I urge you to take the time to read this passage carefully:

Christ has killed and buried your former transgressions, like worms. How then is it that you have bred others? For sins that harm the soul are more deadly than worms which harm the body. And they make a more offensive stench. Yet we do not even perceive their rankness, and so we sense no urgency to purge them out. So the drunkard fails to recognize how disgusting stale wine is, while one who is sober perceives the difference easily. So with sins: one who lives soberly sees easily the mire and the stain, but one who gives himself up to wickedness, like one made drowsy with drunkenness, does not even realize that he is ill. This is the worst aspect of evil, that it does not allow those who fall into it even to see the seriousness of their own diseased state, but as they lie in the mire, they think they are enjoying perfumes. So they do not have the slightest inclination to free themselves. And when full of worms they act like those who pride themselves in precious stones, exulting in them. For this reason they not only have no will to kill them, but they even nourish them, and multiply them in themselves, until they send them on to the worms of the age to come (The Epistle to the Romans, Homily 40, in Oden, Thomas C., and Hall, Christopher A., eds. Mark, Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture vol. 2, InterVarsity Press, 2005. comment on Mark 9:48a).

There is, however, a cure for sin, including its noetic effects: the Holy Spirit. If we think of sin like a disease, the Holy Spirit is divine medicine, and the means of grace are the sensitive instruments by which we receive this balm. God is a healer. As we pray, worship, receive the sacraments, fast, and search the Scriptures, we open ourselves to the redemptive work of God, who heals us of our sin. God, of course, doesn’t require any of the means of grace to act. God is sovereign and powerful and will work in ways that surprise us. The means of grace are simply time-honored practices, some of which are prescribed in Scripture, through which God works in the lives of those who seek him.

Proverbs 1:7 reads, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction.” We begin to open ourselves to the knowledge of God first by the fear of God. In this case, we might think of fear as honor, reverence, and awe. As we begin to contemplate the infinite goodness, love, power, and majesty of God, we will be overcome with wonder and begin to perceive the limits of our own existence. Even a glimpse of God’s goodness will help us to understand how far from him we are, how his ways are not our ways, nor his thoughts our thoughts. We begin to develop godly wisdom as we perceive ourselves rightly before our creator.

As we come to grips with the limits of our knowledge, wisdom, and strength, we may ask God to help us in our weakness. Paul teaches that “no one comprehends what is truly God’s except the Spirit of God. Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit that is from God so that we may understand the gifts bestowed on us by God” (1 Cor 2:11-12). In other words, we cannot rightly think about God or his will without his help. But the good news is, God wants us to know and love him, and he gives his Spirit generously to those who ask in repentance and humility.

We humans, then, don’t see the world rightly. Our understanding is distorted by sin. But the Holy Spirit, who is good and merciful and loving, heals our spiritual vision. We begin to see things in a new light. Paul speaks of this as the “renewing of your mind” (Rom 12:2) or having the mind of Christ (1 Cor 2:16; Phil 2:5). As God reshapes our thinking, we will speak and act differently. We will want different things. Our volitions will change. All this is a part of God’s new creation, where sin recedes into the past and the love of God shows through in our lives.

And there is no more snickering. Amen.