Humanity and Tragedy
The Christian view of evil, fragility, and the only hope of redemption
Editor’s Note
In recent months – as in so many before them – public discourse has been shaken by repeated acts of violence and cruelty. These tragedies confront us with uncomfortable questions about human nature, moral responsibility, and the limits of our supposed ‘humanity’. This essay invites the reader to look beyond the surface of these events and to recover a theological understanding of sin, grace, and redemption. It is a call to realism – and to hope.
A World Wounded by Tragedy
Faced with yet another tragedy – another murder, another act of cruelty, another life extinguished by human hands – we are shaken. We ask how such evil is possible. We appeal to a vague ‘sense of humanity’, hoping it might restrain violence or restore dignity. Yet Christian theology offers a different lens: one that sees human nature not as inherently good but as wounded, fragile, and inclined to sin.
The Wound of Original Sin
From the earliest centuries, Christian thinkers have recognised that humanity is not merely imperfect but radically damaged. The doctrine of original sin affirms that the human condition is marked by a deep rupture: a loss of original righteousness and a turning inward toward self. Augustine of Hippo teaches that the fallen will cannot turn towards the good by its own strength; he likens this condition to a person trying to walk with broken legs, unable to rise without healing grace1. John Chrysostom warns of the passions that dominate the soul and distort judgment2. Thomas Aquinas affirms that while reason can discern certain goods, it cannot choose the ultimate good without grace3.
This view is not a denial of human dignity, but a sober recognition of its distortion. The image of God remains, but it is marred. Human beings retain the capacity for virtue, but it is fragile, partial, and easily corrupted.
The Bondage of the Will
The Protestant Reformers deepened this diagnosis. Martin Luther argues in De Servo Arbitrio that the will is not free in spiritual matters: it is enslaved to sin and cannot choose the good without divine intervention4. Luther’s argument, developed in direct response to Erasmus’s defence of free choice, insists that the human will cannot turn towards the good without grace. He does not deny that human beings can choose between earthly alternatives. What he denies is the capacity of the human person to orient itself spontaneously toward the good. The will is ‘bound’ not because it is externally coerced, but because it is inwardly inclined toward sin. Only grace liberates it, making it truly capable of the good.
John Calvin articulates the doctrine of total depravity, insisting that every faculty of the soul – intellect, will, affections – is corrupted by sin5. Ulrich Zwingli insists that righteousness cannot be achieved by human effort but only by grace6.
The Illusion of ‘Humanity’
In moments of crisis, we invoke ‘humanity’ as a moral resource. We speak of compassion, solidarity, decency. These are real and valuable. But they are not enough. Civic virtue may restrain evil temporarily, but it cannot redeem. Outward decency may preserve order, but it cannot heal the heart. To rely on ‘humanity’ alone is to misread the depth of the Fall. It is to hope for fruit from a tree whose roots are diseased.
The Horizontal Temptation
More troubling still is the tendency, even within religious communities, to place excessive trust in human capacity – in education, dialogue, activism – while neglecting the vertical dimension of grace, prayer, and divine intervention. When theology becomes merely horizontal, it loses its power to confront evil and offer redemption. Without the verticality of grace, faith collapses into moralism, and moralism into sociological analysis. And sociology does not save.
A Philosophical Note
Modern thinkers across the Christian traditions have echoed this realism. Garrigou‑Lagrange reaffirms that evil is a privation and that grace is necessary for every salvific act7. Maritain distinguishes between natural freedom and moral freedom, showing how sin wounds the latter8. Cornelio Fabro highlights the radicality of human choice and the abyss into which the will falls when it turns away from God9. Karl Barth insists on the utter dependence of humanity on divine revelation and grace10. Emil Brunner underscores the brokenness of human freedom and the necessity of God’s initiative11. John Stott, in a more pastoral key, reminds us that the cross reveals both the gravity of sin and the depth of grace12. Vladimir Lossky, from the Orthodox tradition, emphasises the tragic distortion of the image of God and the healing brought by participation in divine life13. These voices, diverse yet convergent, remind us that the human condition cannot be healed by human means alone.
Christ as the Only Answer
Theology teaches us that the answer to our tragedies is not more faith in human goodness, but a return to Christ. Only He – crucified and risen – restores what is broken, reconciles what is estranged, and renews what is corrupt. In Him we find forgiveness for our sins, strength to resist evil, grace to choose the good, and hope for a new creation.
Without Him, we remain trapped in cycles of violence and despair. With Him, we are set free. This is not a moral improvement plan. It is a radical transformation, a new birth, a resurrection.
Realism and Hope
So we must speak with both realism and hope. Realism, because we know the depth of human sin. Hope, because we know that in Christ alone lies redemption. The tragedies of this world are not surprising. They are symptoms of a deeper disease. But they are not the final word. Christ is.
For me, these reflections are not merely theological abstractions. They arise from the painful awareness of our fragility and the conviction that only grace can heal what is broken. To speak of sin and redemption is, therefore, to speak of our world today – and of the hope that remains.
Augustine, On Nature and Grace: on the bondage of the will and the necessity of grace.
John Chrysostom, Homilies on Romans: on the tyranny of the passions over the soul.
Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae I–II, q. 109: on the need for grace for any movement towards salvation.
Martin Luther, De Servo Arbitrio: on the bondage of the will in spiritual matters.
John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion II.i: on the corruption of the human mind and will after the Fall.
Ulrich Zwingli, Commentary on True and False Religion: on righteousness by faith and not by works.
Réginald Garrigou‑Lagrange, De Deo Uno: on evil as privation and the necessity of grace for salvific acts.
Jacques Maritain, The Degrees of Knowledge, Part IV: on natural and moral freedom and the wound of sin.
Cornelio Fabro, L’anima. Introduzione al problema dell’uomo, cap. II: on the ‘tendential activities’ and the nature and limits of human freedom.
Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics: on the dependence of humanity on divine revelation and grace.
Emil Brunner, Man in Revolt: on the brokenness of human freedom and the necessity of God’s initiative.
John Stott, The Cross of Christ: on the gravity of sin and the depth of grace.
Vladimir Lossky, The Mystical Theology of the Eastern Church: on the distortion of the image of God and its healing in divine life.