The following essay by Megan Heeder extends insights from her forthcoming article in the Journal of Moral Theology on the legacy of Veritatis Splendor in moral theology. Megan serves on the board of directors of New Wine New Wineskins, a fellowship of early-career moral theologians working in the Catholic tradition. Find out more information about the upcoming 2025 NWNW annual conference, held this July at the University of Notre Dame.
Imagine standing in front of Jesus and feeling seen–completely, perfectly, and fully. His eyes pierce, all-knowing and completely loving. He sees and knows your heart’s pains, sufferings, joys, and wonders in a way you cannot even grasp yourself. How glorious and terrifying, to imagine eyes that see beyond the walls put up to defend one’s heart from being known too well into the sin and suffering beyond. Yet what a gift it would be to be gazed into, seen and known, and simultaneously be wrapped in the mantle of being deeply loved.
The encounter between Christ and the rich young man–in which Jesus answers the rich young man’s questions about how to earn eternal life with a penetrating gaze–serves as the introduction to Pope John Paul II’s encyclical on moral theology, Veritatis Splendor. Setting out to “write an Encyclical with the aim of treating ‘more fully and more deeply the issues regarding the very foundations of moral theology,’” John Paul II chooses to begin with a biblical meditation (no. 5). He spends the first section of the encyclical with an exegesis of Matthew 19:16-26 that reads like the fruit of lectio divina, foregrounding an encounter with the person of Jesus as both the basis for the encyclical and for moral theology as a whole. Amidst the tumultuous debates on freedom, conscience, truth, proportionalism, and other hot-button issues, John Paul II’s framing of moral theology indicates that all good moral theology must flow from an encounter with Jesus.
For those who struggle with eating disorders, being seen is often a major hurdle–seen physically in the body in which one moves through the world, and seen with the wounds that drive and arise from living with an eating disorder. In addition, guilt and shame often weigh heavy on the consciences of those who struggle with eating disorders and disordered eating–not only because of the size or shape of their bodies, but because of their eating choices. There are moral valences associated with eating–resisting fatty, sugary foods is “good” while “caving” and ordering a burger instead of a salad is “bad.” People with eating disorders often have rules around eating, identifying foods based on the aforementioned categories of good and bad, and their own goodness and badness is to some degree connected to the choices they make about what to eat. Eating “well” in a way that makes them “good” means avoiding fat, sugar, “splurges,” or foods that delight the taste buds. They may or may not enjoy moments of deprivation, but the guilt of eating “badly” or binging and purging is a weight they would rather not carry, and so they consume far too few calories or battle their desire for particular foods. What is it, then, to “be good” and “eat well” where food is concerned, and how is this connected to their goodness as a person?
The rich young man asks a similar question, rooted not in food-rules but in moral codes. Having followed all of the rules laid out for him, the rich young man approaches Jesus and asks him what good he must do to earn eternal life (Mt 19:16). Jesus’ initial response is that only God is good, and that following the commandments are the way to heaven (19:17). However, the young man inquires again–he says that he has followed the rules of God established by the commandments. He desires perfection. The rich young man realizes that rules are not sufficient to earn perfection, much like someone on the road to eating disorder recovery. Eating “healthy” or “all the right things” is not enough to build a robust life, even if it keeps one’s weight in check or body the particular shape one prefers. One longs to be known and loved, at peace with one’s self. The anxiety, fear, and control that weight, food choices, and calories exert consume one’s focus, energy, and life. But Christ sees beyond that–when he looks at the rich young man, the Greek verb used in Scripture points to a manner of seeing that functions not to observe one’s physical characteristics, but rather to gaze into the heart. This is the same way of seeing that Jesus employs when he gazes upon St. Dismas on the cross, the gaze that sees beyond the appearance of a thief being tortured on the cross for his sins into his heart which recognizes Christ as the one whose own tortuous death will save the world. Like Dismas, the rich young man knows who Jesus is: he kneels before him, something no one else does in Scripture prior to the Resurrection, and he calls Jesus “good”–something used to describe God alone in the Jewish world. Jesus loves him for his faith and for the state of his heart, as he loved Dismas and as he loves each person striving to know and love him today. This way of knowing a person, and the love that underpins it, is the same knowing gaze that Christ offers those who struggle with eating disorders. He sees the degree to which people struggle with food, eating, and exercise. What may appear normal or in-control on the outside, Christ sees through. He sees the suffering, the wounds, the desire to be free, and all that people are ashamed and afraid of, and he gazes at them with love and responds. He becomes the “living and personal Law” (no. 15) that they are striving to find and follow through an intricate series of rules–food-wise, and otherwise.
In response to the rich young man’s query, Jesus tells the young man that there is only one thing left for him: to sell all the possessions to which he is attached, giving what he is concerned about to the poor, and to follow Jesus. In making this request, Jesus is asking the rich young man to walk away from what was societally perceived as indicators of his goodness and worthiness in the eyes of God. Those who were rich in Jesus’ time were understood to be blessed by God; the poor and ill were therefore being punished by God for their sin or the sin of their parents. Jesus shatters this theology, asking the rich young man to walk away from what offers him status and affirms his goodness and shocking those who hear by saying it is easier for a camel to pass through a needle’s eye than for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Jesus reinforces that no one can earn heaven; Jesus makes heaven possible by the gift of his life. We “earn” heaven not by what we do, but by receiving what Jesus wants to offer us. While riches offer independence, those without monetary riches rely on God for their daily bread and others for help. Material riches often encourage pride coupled with self-sufficiency, making it difficult to receive anything–including what God wants to offer us–or to be served. When Jesus looks into the rich young man’s heart, he sees what he loved: his wealth. Likewise, Jesus looks into each of our hearts, and the hearts of those who struggle to have a healthy relationship with food, eating, or exercise, and sees what we love while loving what he sees: us. Whatever it is that we love most in the world, Jesus wants us to sacrifice it for him. His encounter with the rich young man calls us to gaze honestly into our own hearts and identify what we love most and offer it to him out of love. This is the response of love to love, and one of the gifts we are called to receive is the strength we need from God to do this. Receiving the gift of God’s love by allowing Jesus to look into our hearts and offering that to which we are most attached–including eating “rules,” a desire to be a particular clothing size or number on the scale, an exercise routine that binds–is a terrifying proposition that will not only heal, but help set us onto the path that leads to the Kingdom of Heaven via an encounter with Christ, the Law that is living and personal.
Megan Heeder is Assistant Professor of Theology and Religious Studies at the University of Scranton.
