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Simply said, the Incarnation gives us permission to be human. That the Second Person of the Most Blessed Trinity is — and remains — divinity incarnate not only reassures us that our humanity is a fit dwelling place for God to dwell in, but that God’s “place” is permanently lodged within ours. As the Gospel of Saint John proclaims, “the Word was made flesh and dwelt” — literally, “pitched his tent” — “among us” (Jn 1:14). And this relationship is forever.

Think of this whenever the temptation comes to want to “give up” on the human race. Day in and day out, we hear of such terrible things happening in the world, the violence and cruelty that wounds and destroys innocent lives, even the natural disasters that, try though we might, we just cannot understand. We may look for someone to blame, and maybe we can find some strange solace in being able to pass judgment on a putative cause, but it will not alter the outcome. Sooner or later, we are going to run into the reality — or the reality will impose itself upon us — that sin of some sort is interwoven throughout most every disaster that human beings experience. Even if sanitized under the label of negligence, inadvertence or stupidity, our humanity constantly reminds us of our sins and follies.

It is an essential element of our Christian faith that “for us men and for our salvation” Jesus came down from heaven. In the Nicene Creed we profess that Jesus became incarnate, was crucified, died, buried and rose for the forgiveness of sins. But is that the only reason the Word became Flesh — that is, because we had sinned?

In the “Exsultet” each Easter Vigil, we hear the proclamation, “O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam, that gained for us so great a Redeemer!” So did somebody have to sin so that God would become so intimate with us? This so-called “soteriological” motive for the Incarnation is commonly held and, in particular, ascribed to St. Bona­venture, a Franciscan theologian (1217-1274). In other words, as the proclamation at the Easter Vigil implies, without the Fall there would have been no need for the Incarnation.

This can offer us great comfort — or is it excuses? — when we find ourselves falling for temptations and into sins and patterns of sin. Sins almost can be said to be “occasions” of grace because are they not conduits for the outpouring of God’s mercy if we are willing to acknowledge our need, our helplessness in saving ourselves, and our desire to be forgiven and healed? In that sense, we might say it is okay to be human, if by being human we mean being a sinner. I certainly would not disagree, especially being one myself.

I am afraid, however, that this can also lead to a certain laxity that diminishes what it means — or might mean — to be human, if we only equate “humanity” with our fallen state. After all, Jesus is fully human, yet not a sinner. So also is Mary fully human, but immaculate — free of sin — from the first moment of her conception. Many saints, though conceived with Original Sin, lived sinless lives. It may be that being human means something more than being a sinner, though to err and to sin are certainly marks of being human. 

Blessed John Duns Scotus (c. 1266-1308), a later Franciscan theologian, taught that the Incarnation was not dependent on sin. What he called the “absolute predestination of Christ” was God’s plan from all eternity to glorify himself by union with creation, regardless of the Fall. In other words, in the plan of God, divinity would bind itself to humanity simply out of love, a passion for us as human beings, sinful or not.

So, yes, God will love us even in, through and beyond our sins. The mercy of Christ, in redeeming us, gives great glory to God and reveals it through our humanity restored to its full dignity. Jesus never lost the glory either of his divinity or his humanity. At the same time, it is also perfectly fine to be holy and to live without sinning. Not only is it okay, it is even possible. 

More often than not, I find myself assuring sinners whose sins I feel so humbled and blessed to be able to absolve, that God fully understands that they are human and, therefore, subject to temptations and to falling into sin. It is so important that all of us, on the road to our heavenly home, realize and accept that God never tires of forgiving us. The mercy of Christ crucified is boundless. Without this encouragement we could easily fall into discouragement — the most diabolical of all temptations — and even despair.

There is also, however, an even more beautiful way of being human, and that is to strive to live a life of virtue, to accept the grace of forgiveness with firm purpose of amendment and the desire “to sin no more” as we recite in the Act of Contrition. We have permission to be human AND sinless, which will after all be our state once we have come to the fullness of our humanity in heaven. While I am running out of space — too little here to dwell on the topic — the need for some form of purification poses the question of the necessity of Purgatory for any unfinished business on our mission of becoming fully human. 

In summary, yes, we do not lose our dignity as human beings because we are prone to fall into sin and must confess when we have succumbed. It is also “perfectly human” to want to follow the call to “be perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect,” to be human in such a way that it can be truly seen that dignity is dwelling in our humanity. It is to live on earth as if already in heaven, a state of existence to which Jesus refers in the Beatitudes. 

Each and every one of us is called to be a saint, to live a life of holiness, beginning here on earth. We have permission to be human, which means to be a fit dwelling place for God on earth. We know that the Word became flesh and lived and ate with sinners, so that it can truly be said that as humans we are tabernacles of his Holy Spirit. That may seem like a very high ideal. It is also a reality that we are called to live.

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