First, it was a competently made thriller and not simply a stringing together of whiz-bang CGI effects. Secondly, it presented a positive image of a father. In a time when Homer Simpson and Peter Griffin are the norm for fatherhood in the popular culture, Brad Pitt's character, Gerry Lane, is actually a man of intelligence, deep compassion, and self-sacrificing courage.

But what intrigued me the most about World War Z is how it provides a template for thinking seriously about sin and salvation.

As the movie opens, an ordinary American family is alarmed by news of a mysterious contagion that is spreading quickly across the globe. In a matter of days, the disease has reached their hometown of Philadelphia, and they are forced to flee. It becomes clear that a virus is turning people into the walking dead, hungry for human flesh. What is particularly frightening about this iteration of the zombie myth is that the undead of World War Z are not the lumbering oafs that we've come to expect, but rather are fast-moving, teeth-grinding, extremely focused killing machines.

After a series of close calls, Gerry and his family manage to escape and make their way to a ship off the eastern seaboard. We learn that Gerry had been a special operative for the United Nations, skilled in fighting his way in and out of hot spots around the world. His superiors draft him back into service, charging him with the task of finding out how to contain the virus. Accompanied only by a small team of scientists and military personnel, Gerry wings his way first to Korea and then to Jerusalem, where, at least for the moment, the Israeli government has managed to keep the zombies at bay behind a high and thick wall. Now, when Jerusalem came into focus, I realized that the filmmakers perhaps had some ambitions beyond simply another ringing of the changes on the zombie story.

One of the more thought-provoking assertions of the sixteenth century Council of Trent is this: original sin is passed on from generation to generation, "propagatione et non imitatione" (by propagation and not by imitation). What the fathers of Trent meant is that sin is not so much a bad habit that we pick up by watching other people behave, rather, it is like a disease that we inherit or a contagion that we catch. A newborn inheriting a crack addiction from his mother would be an apt trope for the process. If it were simply a matter of imitation, then the problem of sin could be solved through psychological adjustment or mental conditioning or just by trying harder. But if it is more like a disease, then sin can be fully addressed only through the intervention of some medicine or antidote that comes from the outside. Moreover, if sin were just a bad habit, then it wouldn't reach very deeply into the structure of the self; but were it more like a contagion, it would insinuate itself into all the interrelated systems that make up the person. The fathers of Trent specify that sin causes a falling-apart of the self, a disintegration of mind, will, emotions, and the body, so that the sinner consistently operates at cross-purposes to himself.

Do you see now why the zombie -- a human being so compromised by the effects of a contagion that he is really only a simulacrum of a human -- is such an apt symbol for a person under the influence of sin? And do you see, further, why the erection of a mighty wall would be an utterly unsuccessful strategy against such a threat? Indeed, one of the most memorable scenes in World War Z is of the zombies swarming over the walls of Jerusalem.

A bad habit might be solved by a teacher, but a disease requires more radical treatment. I won't burden you with all of the plot details, but Brad Pitt's character figures out that the zombies are dissuaded from attacking if they sense in someone a deadly disease. Accordingly, he enters a lab, protected by a veritable army of zombies, in order to inject himself with a noxious contagion. Having done so, he is able to walk among the undead unmolested, and from his blood, an antidote can be produced for the world.

Now, one would have to be inattentive in the extreme not to notice the rather clear Christ symbolism at play here. Gerry does not fight the zombies on their own terms; rather, he enters courageously into their environment, takes on a deadly disease and then, through his blood, offers a cure to suffering humanity. St. Paul said that, on the cross, Jesus became sin so that "in him we might become the righteousness of God" (2 Cor. 5:21); and "in him we have redemption through his blood" (Eph. 1:7). Jesus becomes the healer (Soter in Greek, Salvator in Latin), precisely in the measure that he enters the world of sin, even to the point of shedding his blood, and explodes it from within.

The great story of salvation is still in the intellectual DNA of the West, and that is why it pops up so regularly in the popular culture. And perhaps this is happening precisely because the Christian Churches have become so inept at relating the narrative. To those who don't know this fundamental story well, I might recommend a thoughtful viewing of World War Z.
 

(If you can't see the video above, click here.)
 
 
Originally posted at Word on Fire. Text from Real Clear Religion. Used with author's permission.

Yesterday, the Internet buzzed about some recent remarks from Pope Francis. A headline at Huffington Post read: "Pope Francis Says Atheists Who Do Good Are Redeemed, Not Just Catholics". A similar Reddit article became yesterday's second most-shared piece.

But was the headline right? Did the Pope really suggest that all atheists are redeemed? And if so, is this a shift in Catholic teaching?

To answer those questions we must first note the Gospel passage Pope Francis preached on when he made the statement, Mark 9:38-40:
 

"John said to Jesus,
“Teacher, we saw someone driving out demons in your name,
and we tried to prevent him because he does not follow us.”
Jesus replied, “Do not prevent him.
There is no one who performs a mighty deed in my name
who can at the same time speak ill of me.
For whoever is not against us is for us.”"

 
Jesus' point here is that it's wrong to think people can't do good simply because they aren't Christian. As Pope Francis explained, “This [belief] was wrong...Jesus broadens the horizon...The root of this possibility of doing good—that we all have—is in creation."

From this passage and quote we discover that Pope Francis was primarily concerned with the possibility of goodness, not redemption. But then he continued:
 

"[A]ll of us have this commandment at heart: do good and do not do evil. All of us. ‘But, Father, this is not Catholic! He cannot do good.’ Yes, he can..."The Lord has redeemed all of us, all of us, with the Blood of Christ: all of us, not just Catholics. Everyone! ‘Father, the atheists?’ Even the atheists. Everyone!...We must meet one another doing good. ‘But I don’t believe, Father, I am an atheist!’ But do good: we will meet one another there."

 
What should we make of the claim that "The Lord has redeemed all of us...Even the atheists"? Well first, this is nothing new, and therefore hardly "news." The Catholic Church has maintained for two-thousand years that Christ's sacrificial death was for all (cf. 2 Corinthians 5:15 and 1 Peter 3:18.) As the Church teaches in the Catechism of the Catholic Church:
 

"At the end of the parable of the lost sheep Jesus recalled that God’s love excludes no one: “So it is not the will of your Father who is in heaven that one of these little ones should perish.” He affirms that he came “to give his life as a ransom for many”; this last term is not restrictive, but contrasts the whole of humanity with the unique person of the redeemer who hands himself over to save us. The Church, following the apostles, teaches that Christ died for all men without exception: “There is not, never has been, and never will be a single human being for whom Christ did not suffer.” — (CCC, 605)

 
However in Catholic thought, Christ's redemptive sacrifice on the Cross is not the same thing as salvation. Salvation is the result of accepting Christ's redemption and applying it to our lives. Catholics know that Christ died for our sins but that we must receive that free gift by trusting in him, accepting his proposal of love, and following him with our life.

So while it's true that Christ redeemed all people, even atheists, that doesn't mean all atheists have accepted this gift or will be saved.

Perhaps an example will help clarify the difference between redemption and salvation. Suppose you destroyed your friend's car causing $10,000 in damage. You're taken to court, and the judge sentences you to five years in prison for the crime. But then I burst in and tell the judge, "My name is Brandon Vogt. I'm this man's friend and I want to pay his penalty. Whatever it costs to fix the car and make things right, I'll pay it." The judge agrees.

Now even though I offer to pay the charge and "redeem" you, you still have a choice. You can either accept my offer and become a free man or you can reject my offer and choose to go to jail. The choice, of course, would be yours.

Christ's redemption of all mankind is analogous to me paying off your $10,000 charge (to "redeem" literally means "to buy back" or "to restore.") Catholics understand that Christ paid the debt for every person, but we still must choose whether to accept that act of redemption—it's not forced on you. You make your choice by whom you give ultimate allegiance: God or yourself, selfless love or self-imposed prison.

Finally, what about the last part of the HuffPost headline? Is it true that all who do good are redeemed? The answer, again, is "Yes" since all people are redeemed by Christ's sacrifice. Whether you live a good life is completely irrelevant to redemption. As Mark Shea writes:
 

"All who do good, and all who do evil, and all saints, and all Nazis, and pirates, and Communists and Mormons, Swedenborgians, and Satanists, and plumbers, and students who are getting Fs, and little kids and old coots, and profoundly brain-damaged folk and really brilliant scientists, and tall, and fat, and short people, and Muslims, and atheists, and Jews, and Buddhists and everybody else with a pulse are redeemed. Stalin is redeemed along with St. Damien of Molokai, Jack the Ripper and St. Francis of Assisi are both redeemed."

 
Catholics believe Jesus Christ died for every human being without exception. This redemption has nothing to do with our goodness, and everything to do with God's overwhelming generosity. Redemption is universal, salvation is not. Redemption is a proposal we must accept and salvation is the result.
 
 
(Image credit: PopeResigns.net)