‘A corrupt man does not know he needs forgiveness. A sinner does’
Pope Francis explains the difference between a sinner and a corrupt man, saying that while a sinner knows he needs forgiveness, the corrupt man falls into the trap of believing he no longer requires it.
Corruption is the sin which, rather than being recognised as such and rendering us humble, is elevated to a system; it becomes a mental habit, a way of living. We no longer feel the need for forgiveness and mercy, but we justify ourselves and our behaviours. Jesus says to his disciples: Even if your brother offends you seven times a day, and seven times a day he returns to you to ask for forgiveness, forgive him. The repentant sinner, who sins again and again because of his weakness, will find forgiveness if he acknowledges his need for mercy. The corrupt man is the one who sins but does not repent, who sins and pretends to be Christian, and it is this double life that is scandalous. The corrupt man does not know humility, he does not consider himself in need of help, he leads a double life. In 1991, I addressed this theme in a long article that was published as a small book called Corrupción y Pecado (in the English version: The Way Of Humility: Corruption And Sin). We must not accept the state of corruption as if it were just another sin: even though corruption is often identified with sin; in fact they are two distinct realities, albeit interconnected. Sin, especially if repeated, can lead to corruption, not quantitatively – in the sense that a certain number of sins makes a person corrupt – but rather qualitatively: habits are formed that limit one’s capacity for love and create a false sense of self-sufficiency. The corrupt man tires of asking for forgiveness and ends up believing he doesn’t need to ask for it any more. We don’t become corrupt people overnight, it is a long, slippery slope that cannot be identified simply as a series of sins. One may be a great sinner and never fall into corruption. Looking at the Gospels, I think for example of the figures of Zacchaeus, of Matthew, of the Samaritan woman, of Nicodemus, and the Good Thief: their sinful hearts all had something that saved them from corruption. They were open to forgiveness, their hearts felt their own weakness, and that small opening allowed the strength of God to enter. When a sinner recognises himself as such, he admits that what he was attached to is false. The corrupt man hides what he considers his true treasure, but which really makes him a slave and masks his vice with good manners, always managing to keep up appearances.