Praise be Jesus and Mary, now and foerver. 
Today we celebrate the martyrdom of John the Baptist at the hands of Herod. There are several Herods in the Gospel. Today's Herod is specifically Herod Antipas, the son of the of the so-called Herod the Great. He, Antipas, was Tetrarch of Galilee from 4 BC until 39 AD, so he's also the one who judged our Lord and sent him back to Pilate. He had John the Baptist beheaded because John the Baptist preached to him to inherit the holiness of marriage. And since Herod was in a situation of adultery, he was displeased with what Herod, with what rather John the Baptist, had to tell him. 
Now today, there is a theological non-question that theologians are unfortunately posing as if it were a real question. I call it a non-question because we have an answer, and we don't need to pose it as if it were a real question, but nevertheless, theologians do that. 
The question is basically, does God ever permit us or even want us to knowingly and willingly commit intrinsically evil actions such as murder, let's say, or idolatry, or adultery, does God ever permit us or even want us to do so when something really good is at stake, when something really important is at stake? Does that change things? It's a non-question. Why? Because we have an answer from our Lord Himself. 
But again, it's being posed as if it were really a question. Well, we can actually ask it, and if we ask it enough, and if we pose it enough, and if we ask it in a different way, maybe the answer will be different. Maybe the answer will come out to be yes. When there's something really good to be gained that would otherwise seemingly be lost, and the only way to have it is to do something absolutely forbidden by God, because it is absolutely below our dignity, and it is absolutely below the holiness to which the sons and daughters of God are called. But when something really good is to be gained, does God actually want us or at least permit us to do intrinsically evil things such as adultery? 
And what about when it's not something good to be gained, some evil to be avoided? What if somebody's really afraid? We've all experienced fear. It's a terrible thing. So what about if we're afraid? And the only way to be freed from the fear is to knowingly and willingly do something absolutely forbidden by God, because God has promised us that He will give us the grace to overcome our fears. What if, however, we want to just get out of that fear, and the only way out of that fear is to do something absolutely forbidden by God? May we do that absolutely forbidden thing, such as adultery? Again, it's a non-question. Why?
Because we've been redeemed, and our Lord has answered this question once and for all. We have a dignity as sons and daughters of God. And St. John Paul II puts it well, kind of, you know, his theological language, but I think it's very simple here. He says, the negative moral precepts, those prohibiting certain concrete actions or kinds of behavior as intrinsically evil, do not allow for any legitimate exception. They do not leave room for the creativity of any contrary determination whatsoever. Once the moral species of an action prohibited by a universal rule is concretely recognized, the only morally good act is that of obeying the moral law and of refraining from the action, which it forbids. Whatever that evil action might be, whether it be idolatry or murder or apostasy or adultery, once the evil of the action is recognized, the only morally good act is that of obeying the moral law and refraining from the action which it forbids. 
Adultery in this case, specifically and concretely in its species, is what? Is knowingly and willingly engaging in sexual relations with a person that is already married in the eyes of God to somebody else. The only morally good act is to obey the moral law and to refrain from sexual relations with somebody who is already married to another person. There are no legitimate exceptions whatsoever. There is no room for creativity in this matter.
But theologians are good. They don't give up. Theologians can come up with examples that can make the non-question seem like a real question. 
And you know what? Real-life situations can be painful. And we're not talking about whether people are in painful situations in real life. We're talking about whether intrinsic evil, whether committing evil is actually going to help them in their situation or worse in their situation. We're not saying that people aren't in complicated situations and aren't suffering deeply. What we're simply asking is, will doing more evil help them or not? It's a non-question, because doing more evil never helps anybody. But theologians are good, and they come up with good examples to make it seem like, well, maybe doing evil is actually going to help some people. 
I just recently read a very good theologian, and this is the perplexing thing, a very good theologian nevertheless asked the question. And he gives an example. Suppose, and always the case of somebody who's married in the eyes of God, divorced, and then in a situation of so-called remarriage with a pseudo husband or a pseudo wife. So suppose it is just unrealistic. Suppose God's law, and I don't want to be sarcastic, suppose it is just somehow unrealistic. God's law is just somehow unrealistic. Suppose it is just unrealistic for a woman to be able to arrange to separate from her new husband since she and her children fall back into dire poverty, for example. And suppose it is also unrealistic at the moment to ask him to continue to live with her as brother and sister. After all, he might not be willing to put up with the new situation. He might not even be a Catholic. He might say to her, so now you are telling me our marriage was a mistake and even a sin and that you cannot sleep with me anymore. That's a betrayal of my love and of the promises you made to me, so I'm out of here. And so her children would now be abandoned a second time by their father figure. 
Should this penitent Catholic mother caught in the situation be forced to put her children at such extreme risk of poverty and fatherly abandonment? Or should she just commit adultery? Should she knowingly and willingly give in to this lustful, aggressive, oppressive man and satisfy his lust by knowingly and willingly having sexual relations with him? If there's something good to be gained, some great evil to be avoided, maybe the non-question is a question after all.
Theologians are good at coming up with these examples. I'll come up with an even better one, I think. You've probably never heard of this person, but a real-life person, somebody who really lived in history. Maria Walewska was a Polish noblewoman. Napoleon was enamored of her beauty and wanted her as a concubine.
There was a lot of pressure on her to accept this offer. Poland at that time was suffering under foreign occupation and repression. If she accepted, Napoleon would create an independent Polish state, and the whole country would benefit. Not just one person, not just three persons, not just ten persons, millions of persons would benefit. She accepted. So Napoleon used her for four years. When he was done with her, he went on to different women.
Didn't the welfare of the nation perfectly justify what she did? Wasn't it worth it for one person to allow herself to be treated like a toy, used until it was boring, and thrown away for someone else to play with, if the whole nation was going to benefit? Which is exactly what happened. She benefited. The nation benefited. Four years later, she was thrown away like a toy. Wouldn't it be heartless, merciless, rigid, and pharisaical to tell her that her dignity, her God-given dignity as a Christian woman, was worth more than even an independent Polish kingdom? Wouldn't it be pharisaical, rigid, heartless, merciless to tell her that nothing in the world can justify a Christian woman allowing herself to be treated like an object?
Maria Balewska was afraid to let this opportunity go by. Her diaries showed her soul was anguished, so she didn't let this opportunity go by. She knew exactly what she was doing, was very reluctant, and would have preferred not to have to do it. She nonetheless chose to do what she knew was wrong. She sinned less grievously than Napoleon himself. Let's not forget who the real culprit here is.
She certainly sinned less grievously than Napoleon, or the other concubines of Napoleon, who didn't have such pressure on them. But she nevertheless sinned and sinned grievously. She knew it, and her diaries show it. But nevertheless, it would have been better for her, for Napoleon, and for Poland had she not done so.
St. John the Baptist died to give witness that a non-question remains a non-question no matter how many times you pose it, no matter what examples he used to illustrate it, a non-question is a non-question. 
John Paul II, Martyrdom is an outstanding sign of the holiness of the Church. This witness makes an extraordinarily valuable contribution to warding off in civil society and within the Church a headlong plunge into the most dangerous crisis, which can afflict man, the confusion between good and evil, which makes it impossible to build up and to preserve the moral order of individuals and communities. By witnessing fully to the good, the martyrs are a living reproof to those who transgress the law, and they make the words of the Prophet echo ever afresh. Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter. Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light, light for darkness, bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter. 
Does God ever permit us or want us to do evil so that some great good will come of it? No matter how many times you pose them, non-questions are always non-questions. 
Praised be Jesus and Mary, now and forever.