St. Teresa On Community Drama

As I've mentioned, one of the joys of this little vacation, already almost at its end, has been the slow re-reading of St. Teresa's The Way of Perfection. Towards the end of the book, in chapter 36 on the petition of the Our Father, dimitte nobis debita nostra, Teresa has this wonderful section about one of the ways the devil tricks us religious into bringing the world into the cloister, as it were, stirring up the 'drama' which is such a persistent and enervating distraction in religious life:

God help us, how absurd it is for religious to connect their honour with things so trifling that they amaze me! You know nothing about this, sisters, but I will tell you about it so that you may be wary. You see, sisters, the devil has not forgotten us. He has invented honours of his own for religious houses and has made laws by which we go up and down in rank, as people do in the world. Learned men have to observe this with regard to their studies (a matter of which I know nothing): anyone, for example, who has got as far as reading theology must not descend and read philosophy— that is their kind of honour, according to which you must always be going up and never going down... 

The thing is enough to make one laugh—or, it would be more proper to say, to make one weep. After all, the Order does not command us not to be humble: it commands us to do everything in due form. And in matters which concern my own esteem I ought not to be so formal as to insist that this detail of our Rule shall be kept as strictly as the rest, which we may in fact be observing very imperfectly. We must not put all our effort into observing just this one detail: let my interests be looked after by others—I will forget about myself altogether. The fact is, although we shall never rise as far as Heaven in this way, we are attracted by the thought of rising higher, and we dislike climbing down. O, Lord, Lord, art Thou our Example and our Master? Yes, indeed. And wherein did Thy honour consist, O Lord, Who hast honoured us? Didst Thou perchance lose it when Thou wert humbled even to death? No, Lord, rather didst Thou gain it for all. 

For the love of God, sisters! We have lost our way; we have taken the wrong path from the very beginning. God grant that no soul be lost through its attention to these wretched niceties about honour, when it has no idea wherein honour consists. We shall get to the point of thinking that we have done something wonderful because we have forgiven a person for some trifling thing, which was neither a slight nor an insult nor anything else. Then we shall ask the Lord to forgive us as people who have done something important, just because we have forgiven someone. Grant us, my God, to understand how little we understand ourselves and how empty our hands are when we come to Thee that Thou, of Thy mercy, mayest forgive us.

(Text from the Christian Classics Ethereal Library)

Pope Francis's Exorcism

I saw what has been called the Holy Father's exorcism on Sunday and didn't take much note of it at the time, though inquiring minds would like to know what was in that folder. Since then, though, it's been coming back to mind. Maybe it's the strange progression of the story in the Italian media, though I have to admit that the grammar of Italian public discourse is somewhat opaque to me even at baseline.

Was it an exorcism? Spokescleric Fr. Lombardi says no. Apparently some experienced exorcists who watched said it certainly was. Another I heard speaking in private said no. In any case, as far as I'm concerned, it's none of my business. If the Holy Father knew by some means, natural or supernatural, that an exorcism was indicated and he did it, well, good for him.

What I do feel like saying, however--and this goes for both the more religious and less religious sorts of people--is that often when we get to talking about such things we don't take seriously enough that the devil is happy for us to do so, so long as our discussion, whether it be fearful or dismissive, bemused or pious, can be made to serve his purposes. The devil is happy to have us discuss things like demons, possession, exorcism, etc., so long as such conversations serve to make us dismiss religion or spiritual danger on the one hand, or to focus less on the love of God and the victory of Christ on the other. In other words, if the result of such talk is that we end up more dismissive of God and true religion on the one hand or more afraid and timid on the other, the devil wins.

In my opinion, we would do well to take Fr. Merrin's advice and be wary of demonic tactics that could be at work even in our conversations about such things:

"He is a liar. The demon is a liar. He will lie to confuse us. But he will also mix lies with the truth to attack us."

But we should also remember that the devil knows well our tendency to collect shiny things even when their edges cut us, and always tries to make us think that his primary efforts are the sorts of sensational things that make for tabloid sales and  'viral' videos. The comment of Jeffrey Burton Russell comes to mind:

"The Devil no doubt has some interest in cultural despair, Satan chic, and demonic rock groups, but he must be much more enthusiastic about nuclear armament, gulags, and exploitive imperialism . . ."

(Mephistopheles, 257, quoted from Arthur Lyons, Satan Wants You: The Cult of Devil Worship in America)

Diabolical Temptations

The world, the flesh, and the devil are the three classic sources of temptation. Sometimes in working with people at the parish the question would come up: Did I think a certain temptation was from the devil?

Most of the time I think the question is uninteresting and without spiritual utility. On one level it doesn't matter where temptations are from; they should all be treated the same. Most of the time acts of archaeology on them only serve to flatter them with more attention.

In some moments, however, I think it may be useful to recognize an affliction or temptation as possibly diabolical. For example, such a recognition might inspire more urgency and effort in the surrender to prayer and the help of God. Or, one could find that the recognition of a temptation as diabolical might actually be encouraging; this sign that the devil has something real to lose in our case shows that we have become someone noteworthy in the economies of grace.

For me--and this is only my reflection and not some kind of official teaching--I categorize temptations and afflictions according to two main types, according to the means they attempt to use in me. If the temptation attempts to make use of concupiscence or laziness, sensuality, anger, resentment, or any other disorder in the will, I'm pretty much certain that the temptation is from the flesh or the world, or both.

There are, however, other temptations and afflictions that attempt to instrumentalize not vice, but virtue. It is only in these that I sometimes suspect the devil. To take a couple of stock examples, consider someone who is tempted to neglect prayer because his ministry or other work for the Kingdom of God is so necessary or important. The temptation has made use of his zeal and talent to cut him off from his daily contact with God. Or consider someone whose devotion to the beautiful and correct celebration of divine worship gets in the way of his praying--or maybe even attending--an otherwise valid but imperfect Eucharist.

These are the sorts of situations in which I sometimes suspect the devil. They are truly insidious temptations in that good and devout values get twisted in such way as to either get someone to cut himself off from the sources of grace, or from the situations in which God might want to use him as a source of grace for others.

Ramblings on the devil

I was in a conversation yesterday in which someone asserted that he did not believe in the devil. Even though the Church clearly teaches the existence of Satan and the other fallen angels, (see Catechism of the Catholic Church, 391 and following) I think it's not unusual for us Catholics to see such doctrine as imaginary.

I have mixed feelings about this. Certainly we ought to believe in the devil and the fallen angels, not only because it is an article of the faith, but because it is the devil's will that we don't. On the other hand, our concepts of faith and belief are so fragile in our time that perhaps sometimes we're better off not believing in the devil, or at least not having any excuse to advert to his existence. Let me try to explain what I mean.

I think that most people believe in God in some fashion. People easily say that they believe or assent to the idea of a 'supreme being' or an 'intelligent designer' or some other human description of deity. What we fail to do is to believe God, that is to say assent to and believe what this God has said about himself through divine revelation. If God is indeed God, then his communication is primary by definition and demands our total and complete attention and response. Our failure at this, as individual Christians, as Church, and as humanity in general is what reveals our lack of genuine belief.

In fact, then, our society's manner of believing in God is often the way in which we ought to believe in the devil. We 'believe in God' but we do not always 'believe God.' Likewise, we should believe in the devil, but not believe him. For everything the devil says is a lie. Even when it contains something like the truth, is is framed in such a way to mislead us and introduce further misery into the world. Therefore I think the devil rejoices somewhat in the civil faith that posits supreme beings and intelligent designers, for such a faith allows us to think of ourselves as theists while simultaneously absolving us of the duty of religion. It gets us to the old assertion, 'I'm spiritual, but not religious.' That is to say that I am comforted and supported somewhat by something transcendent, spiritual, or supernatural, but am not challenged in any difficult way by what it demands. I am comforted but not converted.

On the other hand, my experience in the care of souls has convinced me that it can sometimes be quite unhelpful to give attention or thought to the devil. Classically, our temptations and difficulties arise from three sources: the world, the flesh, and the devil. My experience leads me to believe that diabolical temptations are the rarest. Indeed, I think it is one of the devil's standard victories to have us blame our worldly and fleshly temptations on him in such a way as to avoid our own responsibility to them. E.g. 'the devil made me do it.' No. I did it. Yes, my thoughts are confused and my will is wounded, but most of my temptations are from the occasions of sin that arise through my own fault, distraction, and spiritual torpor. So many times it turns out that blaming the devil for our temptations and sins is actually a distraction in itself and thus an oblique victory for the devil. This is not to say that there aren't actual diabolical temptations, but I think that they are rare. We are very good at displacing the source of our troubles when it comes to our spiritual life. 'Father, my husband has a drinking problem so I need you to put holy water on the house.' 'The brothers in this community keep me from having the prayer life I want.' 'How can someone be chaste in this culture.' There is no end to such examples.

So let's believe in the devil, but not believe him. Let us be quick to acknowledge his danger and influence, but recognize as a temptation the ease of allowing it to relieve us of our responsibility for ourselves.

Are You There, Lucifer? It's Me, Charles

I'm sure that I've shared in the singing of Dan Schutte's "City of God" more than any other single piece of church music, excepting perhaps the Sanctus from Marty Haugen's "Mass of Creation." With it's giddy activism and joyful sense of eschatological transformation, it's a classic. Besides, I'm pretty sure it substituted for the entrance antiphon (what a mercy from God was my ignorance of such things at the time!) at every Sunday Mass for the three semesters that I was a Catholic in college.

Singing it today at Morning Prayer, though, an uncomfortable lyrical parallel came to mind. Consider the second verse:

We are sons of the morning, we are daughters of day
The One who has loved us, has brightened our way.

Now consider some 'horror punk.' This is the beginning of the later Misfits song "Speak of the Devil:"

Traded in my bible for a little black cat
The time of Armageddon's here
Some call me the son of the morning
God knows I'm the angel of light

The reference is to Lucifer, who is indeed sometimes called the "Son of the Morning." This is an uncomfortable parallel for sure!

An Exorcist Tells His Story

Today I have finished reading Fr. Gabriele Amorth's An Exorcist Tells His Story, which I read on the advice of one of my favorite people, an extraordinarily devout layman. Frequently shocking and sometimes frightening, you have to admit that it's an entertaining read.

The book is a collection of several representative accounts of the possessions, obsessions, and supernatural illnesses that Amorth has encountered in his own ministry as exorcist, presented thematically so as to offer the reader what he has learned about the strategies and behavior of the devil and his demons. Along the way one realizes that the book is also an extended and sustained rant against the pastors of the Church for not taking the problem of supernatural evil seriously, and for not taking up Jesus' commissioning of his disciples to expel demons.

I have to say that I have mixed feelings about the book. On the one hand, I agree with the accusation that the church does not treat supernatural evil seriously. My own experience and my brief work in the care of souls have convinced me that struggles with demonic presences and diabolical temptations are not as unusual as you might think. People just don't talk about it much, and still less do they tell priests about it, which is surely a testament to their common sense.

On the other hand, it is also my experience that many times those who complain of supernatural evil do so in such a way as to absolve themselves of responsibility. It is much easier, for example, to blame troubles in one's marriage on the presence of imps or harpies hiding in the bedroom than on denial, addiction, or the unwillingness to communicate. I once asked a spiritual director if he thought a particular temptation I was going through was of diabolic origin. He said, "What does it matter where it's from? Your task is the same."

Above all, when we are reflecting on these questions, we must be careful of the temptation to imagine the universe in a Manichean way, as a kind of raging, balanced struggle between good and evil, both of which have being in their own right. One has to look to further than Star Wars to see how easily we are charmed by this model of reality. "The Dark Side of the Force is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural," said Chancellor Palpatine. Unnatural or not, this is not the conception of good and evil taught by Christianity. Evil does not to lead to any abilities at all, but only to misery, death, and non-being.

The good news of Christianity is that there is no cosmic battle between good and evil because it's over. The Resurrection is the revelation of the victory of divine humility over the arrogance of sin. The Resurrection not only awaits us as the final, blessed, victorious destiny of creation, but has broken backwards into history in the Resurrection of Christ to snatch up into the first fruits of the new age anybody who is willing. From now until then there are still skirmishes and even souls that are needlessly lost, but the struggle itself has already been won.


As we read in the Sayings of the Desert Fathers:

A brother asked Abba Sisoes, 'Did Satan pursue them like this in the early days?' The old man said to him, 'He does this more at the present time, because his time is nearly finished and he is enraged.'


P.s. As evidence of my earnestness in this matter, I bet I'm the only priest you know who has a copy of the new De exorcismis et supplicationibus quibusdam.

David, Goliath, and the Spiritual Combat

Today in the first reading we arrive at the famous scene of David's defeat of Goliath. I didn't preach on it for the 8:30 am crowd, but maybe I'll be feeling loose and wild enough to go for it by the 7:30 pm Mass tonight. There's an allegorical interpretation in there about the battle of the Church or the individual Christian with evil, temptation, and the devil. I'm not sure that I have it all together, but I've arrived at a few points.

• Confidence matters. David went out confident and trusting in the Lord. He dismisses Saul's warnings. He knows that God wants to give him victory. He knows that it is God's fight and not his.
  
• "The Philistine held David in contempt." We should always know that evil and the devil hate us and the good we are able to do with God's help. All the "empty promises" have this contempt behind them. Keeping this in mind can help us to see through the non-being and non-sense of evil and not be distracted by the glittering wisdom of the world.
• Taunting can help. Of course it's a standard part of warfare, and thus it appears in the story. Mocking and taunting demoralize the enemy and build up the confidence of the taunter. Sometimes it can be very helpful and liberating to mock our temptations and the world, flesh, and devil behind them.
• "Am I a dog that you come against me with a staff?" says Goliath. He doesn't see and is unaware of David's real weapon, the sling and stone. It is the nature of sin, evil, and the devil to be cut off from God and thus to be unaware of grace. This is why temptations and diabolical attacks can come upon us with such confidence that we will fold up and be ruined--they can't see the power of God that is with us. Knowing this can give us a lot of confidence for the spiritual combat.
• David defeats Goliath with sling and stone. It is a small, simple, and humble weapon, but one that requires skill. It also requires preparation; David had carefully selected the stones from the Wadi beforehand. So it is with us; our weapon in the spiritual fight is our simple faith and confidence that the battle is God's rather than our own. All we have to do is let God fight and win the battle on our behalf. Nevertheless, this surrender is so delicate and contrary to our wounded nature that it takes practice and preparation beforehand if we are to make it work at the critical moment of temptation or the attack of evil. The preparation is living a sacramental life of daily prayer, and the skill of the surrender is one that we must practice at each moment of the day.
  
• To kill the Philistine is not enough. His head must be cut off. In the same way, to allow God to defeat a temptation within us is a great work of obedience and religion, but we are not done. We must also cut off the sources of temptation in ourselves. Ripping out the selfishnesses and myopias from our hearts and souls with leave some very raw and confused spots inside us, but these are the sorts of wounds that can become openings to the grace of God. They can become our stigmata. "From now on, let no one make troubles for me; for I bear the stigmata of Jesus on my body." (Galatians 6:17)
  

On Accepting Redemption

One of the losses that comes with ordination is that you just don't hear a lot of homilies anymore. You read the classics, of course, and hear bishops, religious superiors, and even Popes preach at larger occasions, but most of the time you don't often hear the plain old day-to-day preaching that can be so honest and encouraging.

Here's a line from a daily Mass homily I heard today:

"We're like people sitting in jail. The bail has been paid and the gates have been opened, but we don't believe it."

Wow. That's the whole tragedy of my so-called spiritual life.


Like things often do, my confrere's words reminded me of a line from New Seeds of Contemplation:

"The devils are very pleased with a soul that comes out of its dry house and shivers in the rain for no other reason than that the house is dry."

Sanctity Against Bitterness

"It is not that someone else is preventing you from living happily; you yourself do not know what you want. Rather than admit this, you pretend that someone else is keeping you from exercising your liberty. Who is this? It is you yourself." (Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation, 110.)

One of the persistent temptations in the religious life is to give in to the unwillingness to take responsibility for our own mediocrity. You get into this life with a lot of pious imaginings and spiritual dreams all mixed up with a genuine desire for prayer and sacrifice. But eventually the disappointment comes. Sometimes it's just a mild malaise. In other cases it takes the form of a violent heartbreak. To be honest, I think the former is more dangerous on the spiritual level.

We are nagged by this feeling that our religious life isn't so different from secular life. Why don't I feel any holier or more religious? Sometimes we feel like the couple who let their engagement go on for too many years and then fall apart right after the wedding. We just felt more religious and devout before we lived under the same roof as the Blessed Sacrament. Many of us are better off now in terms of material comforts and securities than we were in the world, so how can we say that are poor?

The most dangerous temptation in all this is to blame somebody else. My lack of fervor is the fault of the brother who continually scandalizes me by walking into chapel and asking, "What week are we in?," announcing to all that he doesn't even bother to pray his breviary apart from the meager moments when we do it in common. I'm scattered and unrecollected because of the "culture" of the house or province, which I perceive as unprayerful and lax. It's brother grocery shopper's fault that I eat the wrong things, and the house's fault that I waste time watching TV or clicking around the internet. Back when I was in the world I didn't have to have TV or candy or beer in the house if I didn't want it, and I didn't have to deal with such distractions! Now it's the fault of these decadent brothers that I live in a state of dissipation and spiritual sadness!

This sort of thinking is a serious and dangerous temptation, because the decadent, lax, and unprayerful brother is you yourself. The devil is perfectly happy for us to be worked up about our sins and our faults, and even to be contrite and to experience something like compunction on a certain level, so long as we can do it in such a way as to absolve ourselves of any responsibility. Through this temptation the devil can turn perfectly laudable spiritual ambition into perfectly destructive interior acts of violence.

Are we annoyed that our daily world--even in religious life--is not set up to facilitate a life of prayer and virtue? Even worse, do we perceive that others are actively (though often not maliciously) working against spiritual values? Then we should surrender and join the club. It's called "the saints."

Memory, Childhood, Humanae Vitae, and Satan

Seven months ago, the always encouraging and erudite Ben left this instructive point in a comment:

As a person in the pews, I will let you in on a secret. The number one issue that divides the so-called conservative catholics like...and myself from the left-of center ones is not Vatican II, it is not liturgy, it is not social justice, it is not the abortion issue, it is not war or foriegn policy; it is the acceptance of so-called liberal Pope Paul VI's encyclical "Humanae Vitae". This short document determines the factions in this church.

To which I responded, in part:

Thanks, Ben. Good to hear from you. I remembering reading Humanae vitae in studies (in a theological school without any Christian "symbols" in the classrooms, by the way) and being so impressed.

For all who only remember it as being about artificial birth control, go back and read it. Take note of the warnings listed therein, note how they have come true, and let us ask ourselves if we can do better.

At the time this conversation in the comment box gave me that feeling that there was something I had read once upon a time that spoke to it rather sharply, but I couldn't remember what it was. Today I recalled the text I was thinking of, given to me by an earnest yet troubled missionary all the way back in the seventh grade. It's from The Satanic Bible, by Anton LaVey, first published in 1969. It's amazing how a text can lie hidden and quiet in the mind for 25 years:

Past religions have always represented the spiritual nature of man, with little or no concern for his carnal or mundane needs. They have considered this life but transitory, and the flesh merely a shell; physical pleasure trivial, and pain a worthwhile preparation for the "Kingdom of God". How well the utter hypocrisy comes forth when the "righteous" make a change in their religion to keep up with man's natural change! The only way that Christianity can ever completely serve the needs of man is to become as Satanism is NOW.

It has become necessary for a NEW religion, based on man's natural instincts, to come forth. THEY have named it. It is called Satanism. It is that power condemned that has caused the religious controversy over birth-control measures - a disgruntled admission that sexual activity, for fun, is here to stay.

It is the "Devil" who caused women to show their legs, to titillate men - the same kind of legs, now socially acceptable to gaze upon, which are revealed by young nuns as they walk about in their shortened habits. What a delightful step in the right (or left) direction! Is it possible we will soon see "topless" nuns sensually throwing their bodies about to the "Missa Solemnis Rock"? Satan smiles and says he would like that fine - many nuns are very pretty girls with nice legs.

Now there's a lot for discussion! I'm not sure what it all means, and I'll leave that to you. Oh, and in your charity say a prayer for the kid who put this text in my hands at the tender age of twelve. I don't know what became of him. I think his name was Rich.

Penitenziagite!

In these days in which I am studying the Mexican bishops' marriage ritual in preparation for a wedding in Spanish in two weeks, working through the 1962 Missale Romano-Seraphicum, and saying some of my Office from my Liturgia delle Ore Romano-Serafico each day for Italian practice, I'm starting to feel like Salvatore from The Name of the Rose:

Penitenziagite! watch out for the draco who cometh in futurum to gnaw your anima! death is super nos! pray the santo pater come to liberar nos a malo and all our sin! ha ha, you like this negromanzia de domini nostri jesu christi! et anco jois m'es dols e plazer m'es dolors...cave el diabolo! semper lying in wait for me in some angulum to snap at my heels. but salvatore is not stupidus! bonum monsasterium, and aqui refectorium and pray to dominum nostrum. and the resto is not worth merda. amen. no?

Or as he says in Ron Perlman's immensely entertaining portrayal:

Penitenziagite! Watch out for the draco who cometh in futurum to gnaw on your anima! La mort e supremos! You contemplata me apocalypsum, eh? La bas! Nous avons il diabolo! Ugly cum Salvatore, eh? My little brother! Penitenziagite!

SVILUPPO: Two years after this silly post, I find myself trying to read the book in Italian. So, arriving at this same section, how could I resist posting it?

Penitenziagite! Vide quando draco venturus est a rodegarla l'anima tua! La mortz est super nos! Prega che vene lo papa santo a liberar nos a malo de todas le peccata! Ah ah, ve piase ista negromanzia de Domini Nostri Iesu Christi! Et anco jois m'es dols a plazer m'es dolors...Cave el diabolo! Semper m'aguaita in qualche canto per adentarme le carcagna. Ma Salvatore non est insipiens! Bonum monasterium, et aqui se magna et se priega dominum nostrum. Et el resto valet un figo seco. Et Amen. No?

Sponsored Links

If you write a long email about the devil, the demons, and the practice and rite of exorcism and then look at the 'sponsored links' sidebar that Gmail generated from your message, you can almost despair at the confused and ignorant spiritual condition of the internet.

(No offense to you Gmail. You're the best, especially the way you fetch, archive, search, and make labels.)

Discerning the Diabolical

More often than you might think, people ask me whether or not I think their temptations and struggles are of diabolical origin.

Most of the time I don't think so, but I tend to take the practical approach: bracketing off the question of the devil's possible role, I ask whether or not guessing him to be involved will help someone take action. In other words, I ask myself whether the idea of the diabolical will tone someone up for fruitful spiritual combat or further absolve him from taking responsibility for himself.

That being said, there are a couple of cases of spiritual erring and sin where I am inclined, at times, to consider diabolical influence:

1. When someone is "inspired" to be intensely religious, but in such a way that is not about God, but about himself. I think it's a mistake for a devout person to think that the devil will try to tempt her to sin in ways that are obviously crude and worldly. It is the devil's joy to have us be as religious as could be, so long as we do it his way. So the diabolical attacks on devout people take the form of temptations to spiritual vanity, self-righteousness, abuse of church power and control of others, etc. To form a very religious person who only reflects on the sins of others and the punishment they have earned for themselves, a proud religious, or a priest who delights in vanities, power, or ambition, are examples of the devil's proud accomplishments.

2. In certain temptations that make a tricky inversion of self-indulgence and humility. Say someone is working hard at the spiritual combat against a habitual sin, like an addiction of some sort. A suggestion comes into his mind saying, "Just sin and get it over with, then you can at least pray in repentance." Of course this is a trick because the good of repentant prayer--which is a familiar place for our victim--is set up (falsely) as a way to get him to give up the fight. His greater familiarity--and hence comfort--with the state of praying as a repentant sinner is used to get him to give up the newer and much more awkward and uncomfortable position of being in the spiritual combat.


UPDATE: Credit where credit is due. Since this morning I have begun to suspect that I got at least the idea of 2. from Fr. Benedict Groeschel's The Courage to be Chaste. I can't check or give a citation because I gave away my copy some years ago. Nevertheless, it's a good book and I recommend it.

From My Confessor: Public Penance

Strong words from my confession today:

Christian perfection is the interior freedom to serve God completely and faithfully at every moment and in each circumstance. Therefore you must look at anything that distracts from or hinders this freedom as the work of the devil. Do I sound too serious? A religious, by public vows, has made their striving for Christian perfection a public property. Thus, any sin you commit, even if it be interior or secret, is a betrayal not only of God and your best self, but of everyone else too.

Penance: to offer a rosary in reparation for my sins.

(My long-standing (14 or 15 years) penance record still holds: to say 15 Our Fathers and then to pray Evening Prayer 'with great devotion')

Tricked

In my experience of religious life, the most basic trick the devil uses to get us off track is to convince us that everything is someone else's fault. For example, we get tricked into these kind of thoughts:

I'm unhappy because the house I live in is too loose or too strict. (I presume the latter thought is possible; would that I ever have such an experience!)

I'm miserable because the miserable state of religious life/regular observance/our ministry/the Catholic Church is making me miserable and preventing me from being the kind of religious or minister I want to be.

I'm depressed because I have to do all kinds of things that I didn't sign up for and have nothing to do with my vocation, e.g. in my case, fixing the PBX, reseting the T1, pumping rain water out of the church hall, etc. If only I was in a vibrant parish/province/order/church then I wouldn't have to worry about such things and could happily spend my time on better things.

All of these are examples of the same trick by which we lose sight of ourselves and blame everyone else for our unhappiness, depression, and misery. It works well because it relieves us of the spiritual responsibility of looking after the only person or thing around us that we can actually control: ourselves. When it gets really bad we just stop noticing or worrying about our own sins--which are the actual cause of our unhappiness--and take up the rotten pleasure of noticing what's wrong with everybody else.

This is why I consider John of the Cross to be one of the only sensible writers on religious life I have ever read (and I've read a few). In his Counsels to a Religious, he writes:

In order to practice the first counsel, concerning resignation, you should live in the monastery as though no one else were in it. And thus you should never, by word or by thought, meddle in things that happen in the community, nor with individuals in it, desiring not to notice their good or bad qualities or their conduct...you should engrave this truth on your heart: you have come to the monastery for no other reason than to be worked on and tried in virtue; you are like a stone that must be chiseled and fashioned before being set in the building. Thus you should understand that those who are in the monastery are craftsmen placed there by God to mortify you by working on you and chiseling at you.

My emphasis. Translation of Kavanaugh and Rodriguez.

Mocking The devil

I almost cracked up at Mass yesterday when we started singing Michael Joncas's well-worn setting of psalm 91, "On Eagle's Wings." You know it from funerals if nothing else.

I found it funny because this is the psalm quoted by the devil in the Gospel:

Then the devil took him to the holy city, and made him stand on the parapet of the temple, and said to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down. For it is written: He will command his angels concerning you and with their hands they will support you, lest you dash your foot against a stone.” Jesus answered him, “Again it is written, You shall not put the Lord, your God, to the test.”

It's always good to remember that the devil is perfectly happy for have us quote scripture and behave religiously, as long as we do it his way. So maybe it's good that we sang the psalm he quoted in order to redeem it for ourselves.