Scrupulosity in Anxious Times

Dominican Father Patrick Hyde (Twitter: @frpatrickop) recently tweeted:

For those desiring the Sacrament of Confession: Perfect contrition, flowing from love of God, expressed by a sincere request for forgiveness (like praying the act of contrition) & with the intention to go to sacramental confession as soon as possible, obtains forgiveness of sins.
“Upon the Sacrament being made available to you again, you should get to Confession as soon as possible and confess these sins. But, in this time of crisis and chaos, God’s mercy remains readily available. 

Father Hyde meant, and did, very well here. The drama of life, however, includes human anxiety, suspiciousness,  implications and inferences everywhere.

Cue the genuine concern of, or on behalf of, the scrupulous person, who questions whether his or her contrition is ever perfect.

Scrupulosity is Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder directed toward moral matters. It is fueled by anxiety, which I term “the allergies of mental illness” (along the same lines that depression is its common cold).

It’s fair enough to say that there is a truth to be known and a goodness to be done. But with scrupulosity, the feverish drive for exactness is operative. ”Did I just sin here? Did I confess this sin properly? Did I perform my penance precisely as given?” 

The fear of eternal damnation registers highly, as well as the oppressive sense of quotidian sinfulness that prior generations termed “Catholic guilt” and used sometimes as a red herring to justify their abandonment of the Catholic faith. 

Detractors suggest that their teachers, especially women religious, were encouraging scrupulosity—not intentionally, I’d hope. I trust they wanted their charges to be faithful Catholics and no more/less; why wouldn’t they? But be an impressionable child, be a hormonally-laden teenager, and your impression might be otherwise.

(Be a wounded and sinful adult, and the impression you give might be corrupt. I’d be foolish to exclude that likelihood in many cases; hence our current scandals.)

Faithful Catholicism, faithful discipleship, includes detesting sin and seeking virtue. Lacking the tools and relationship to cultivate the latter in many cases, it becomes easier to foster the former and hope for the best.

Somewhere in my diagnostic history I was told I had a mild OCD along with a mild to moderate depression. I think that still is the case. I have an addictive personality, by which I mean not that people easily become addicted to me, but I to whatever item, practice or person interests me. Since those earlier assessments I think I’ve qualified for ADHD. I don’t want to levy these terms indiscriminately.

To return to the original Tweetroversy (it wasn’t really an argument, thank God, it was more of a dialogue, though the original poster—wisely?—added nothing further; maybe he muted the conversation):

When someone mentioned the scrupulous person’s doubts regarding “perfection” in contrition, I returned to Father Hyde’s tweet: the act of perfect contrition “flow[s] from love of God.” The traditional Act of Contrition speaks to God as “All-Good, and deserving of all my love.” 

It does not, incidentally, affirm the praying person’s love for God, only God’s worthiness of it and my offense of God by sin. Love has its own “Act” prayer, worth investigating and offering.

After reading this conversation, I entered the Divine Conversation of the Liturgy, where I heard Jesus’ scathing rebuke of those Jews opposed to Him (typically referred to as “the Jews”). It included, “...I know that you do not have the love of God in you” (Jn 5:42). If that doesn’t turn one into a pillar of salt, what would?

Elsewhere Saint John declared, “Perfect love casts out all fear” (1 Jn 4:18). That takes us back to *perfect* contrition, and for that matter, the dominical command to be “perfect as your Heavenly Father is perfect” (Mt 5:48). Here perfect is not “flawless,” but rather “as intended, following form and intention” (Gk teleios).

The scrupulous person can affirm, even if shakingly and wobblily as human lovers do, that he or she loves God. “Well, I fear God more than I love Him,” one might retort. 

Pare it down: Do you love Him at all? Do you want to be His friend and not His slave (cf. Jn 15:15)? Do you love Him more than “these,” as Jesus asks Peter, where “these” usually is thought of as the apostles gathered with them both, but we can extrapolate it into earthly relationships and attachments. 

Do you love Me more than the thrill of alcohol, lust, drugs, gambling, acquiring and spending, oversatiety, trying to control others, you name it (and claim it!)

—The addict, deep down, especially the “recovering” one (the one wanting to change and grow), may say, “I love You, Lord; help me love You more than *these*!”

—The scrupulous, deep down, may say, “I love You, Lord; help me love You more than I fear the effects of turning away from You, or the uncertainties I have about my distance from You or Your love for me.”

If you can say you love God, that is, as one poster acknowledged, “a concrete first step.”

Maybe the first first step is as the addicts in recovery might frame it for the scrupulous: “I am powerless over my thoughts and feelings concerning sin and perfection; my life is unmanageable.” The second step: “I came to believe that a Power greater than myself could restore me to sanity.”

Then: I made a decision to turn my will and my life [thoughts and actions] over to the care of God as I understood Him.” Trust motivates that turning-over (surrender) of will and life. Trust is a ray from the sun of love.

* * *

Another tweeter returned the conversation in the direction intended by the OP (get it? Original Poster/Ordo Praedicatorum? I’ll show myself out, but not before finishing this thought):

Viz: The reaffirmation of the forgiveness God gives in response to the Act of Perfect Contrition (sorry because I love God, Whom my sins offend), coupled with the intention to confess appropriately at the first available opportunity.

These anxious times have everyone by the tissues, not just the diagnosed. Anxious because many parishes now offer Confession even less than they had before COVID-19. Anxious because here is a life-threat that discriminates not. Faithful and seasonal Catholics won’t likely participate in Easter Mass because this virus shows no signs of abatement, neither will the in-place restrictions (at least I hope not, @RealDonald...)

“I may not get to make my Easter Duty [Communion at least once from the start of Lent to Trinity Sunday, and Confession of serious sins before Easter if possible]!” If it doesn’t happen because of the in-place restrictions and the limits of local pastoral offering, it’s not your fault that you didn’t make it unless you never intended to. And even there, if God spares, there’s still a chance to go, and at least this priest happily would facilitate that.

* * *

Obiter dictum: I am not a mental health practitioner or theoretician. I do not possess a  degree in Moral Theology. I am a parish priest working with the best available knowledge that I have accessed. I dare not give specific advice online regarding “internal forum” (confessional-worthy or confessed) matters. Please refer to your regular/local for such.

For more information and support (again, not as a substitute for one’s Confessor and Spiritual Director, as it will insist): https://scrupulousanonymous.org/

The Stuff of Saints, Part the First

In an earlier post, patient reader (or should I call you Theophilus?), I mentioned that, on Monday the 28th, I would be speaking to young adults on the subject of "Becoming a Saint in the 21st Century." Only since Monday did I recognize that Friday is "All Saints Day." The topic of presentation was apropos of the upcoming Holy Day, so the timing is Godly!

(The Diocese of Allentown had something to do with it, I grant. The Diocese works for God...though, in a certain sense, God works for the Diocese!)

I broke the topic into two major segments: "Becoming a Saint" and "In the 21st Century," and I began with the latter. Everyone in the room was a resident of the 21st century for the same amount of time, which is more than I could say for some of the venues I work (e.g. our elementary school)!

The most important things I noted about being a resident in the 21st century were:

• Technology, as evidenced by the "smartphone." The sheer inescapability of it, the overwhelmingness, the thrill, the headaches of it! The instant access to information, true or false, helpful or baneful. The ability to connect with people through social media (or, perhaps, the ability to fabricate a profile by which one can "interact" with a similarly-fabricated profile).
• The importance of education, for purposes beyond the mere content, and the pressure to continue education beyond the high school and undergraduate levels.
• Openness to new ideas: "searching," viz. experimenting with and "sharing" philosophies, religions, relationships, in the hopes of furthering self-discovery.
• Mobility, local, social, occupational, et-ceteral.
• Fluidity that extends even to ideas, even to the point that what one person holds as true, another may not, without recrimination or scrutiny, which derives in part from
• Relativism, the idea that any idea (especially my idea) is as valid as others. Substitute "faith/religious practice" if you wish.

What to do, in this marketplace of ideas? Is there a manual? Is there any sort of standardization to us "seekers"? Catholicism and Orthodoxy persist in positing a human nature that is universal, with its faculties of intellect and will that God made to understand truth and pursue goodness. We aren't actualized unless we are intent on understanding truth and pursuing goodness.

There is a big emphasis today on uniqueness. Cherished Catholic figures have relevant quotations:

• "Be who you are and be that well." (St. Francis deSales)
• "Be who God meant you to be and you will set the world on fire." (St. Catharine of Siena)
• “To lift up the hands in prayer gives God glory, but a man with a dungfork in his hand, a woman with a slop pail, give Him glory, too. God is so great that all things give Him glory if you mean that they should." (Gerard Manley Hopkins), whose entire poetic corpus is relevant. Special emphasis on "As Kingfishers Draw Fire, Dragonflies Draw Flame," which I quoted in the talk. Hopkins reflected the post-Scholastic philosophical stress on the individuality, or "this-ness," of each created entity.

As for becoming a saint, I don't know if everyone gathered that evening had aspirations for sanctity. Sometimes I don't know if I do. The aggregate of saints, canonized and not, speaks to us about the desire for God that is written on the human heart. You may also call it the desire for self-transcendence--with which conscientious human persons of any or no religious persuasion will identify, though perhaps with a little bit of help.

It is crucial to admit the existence and relevance of anything outside of the self. The failure to do so may well epitomize the human condition. Recovering addicts speak of a God in terms of a "higher power," but is there an "other" power? Note that the Hebrew word for holy, qadosh, at its heart means "other." When the angels were declaring the thrice-holiness of God (cf. Is 6:3), they cried out, "Qadosh, Qadosh, Qadosh!" "Other, Other, Other!" To be holy, then, is to be set apart...unique!

Since this talk was intended for Catholic Christians of this or any century, we needed to cite certain transcendent characteristics of holiness:

Obedience to the Commandments. Stipulated by the Lord as a proof of one's love for Him (cf. Jn 14:15). Nobody likes to be told what to do and what to avoid, so maybe it would mollify us to hear the commandments described as "enshrinements of positive conduct that fosters a well-ordered society, a communion of persons like unto the Trinity."

Virtues: Stable dispositions to choose the good amid the various circumstances of life. Temperance, patience, kindness, humility, diligence, chastity, and charity: these are seven contraries to the “deadly sins."

Prayer: traditionally understood as “lifting heart and mind to God” (St. John Chrysostom). St. Teresa of Avila: “a friendly way of dealing, in which we find ourselves talking in private, with Him whom we know loves us." Dr. Ralph Martin recently defined prayer as “paying attention to God." Referring everyone and everything in our lives to God—in real time, when possible (and when isn’t it?). This, however, doesn’t preclude fixed, regular “sessions” of prayer, in which we engage the Lord through the Liturgy, the Scriptures, the Rosary, worthy reading, the events of the day, etc.

More later.

Eagle-Ear

The other day I had the privilege of attending and offering prayers for the "Court of Honor" (induction ceremony) for an Eagle Scout in our parish.  This young man assists us as a sacristan: he prepares the vessels and vestments for weekend Masses.  He began serving at the Altar a couple of years ago, and now his younger brother has followed suit.  (Incidentally, his two older brothers are also Eagle Scouts, and that younger brother undoubtedly is on the same path!)  We can rejoice in knowing that one more young man among us has proved worthy of this honor, and has placed himself at the service of his God and country.

As the Chartered Organization Representative for our parish units, I ensure that the troop and pack have a safe and welcoming place for their activities.  I also review and sign leadership applications, assist in counseling for religious awards, and stop in on events.

I can attest that our adults are competent leaders and--no surprise--our scouts are being formed in that vein.  Our troop turns out a number of Eagle Scouts each year, and the neighboring troop (to which the boy above belongs) does likewise.

I was never involved in scouting as a lad.  Separation anxiety got the better of me, along with a typical flare-up of "Why Even Try?" Syndrome.  Since that time, however, I gained profound appreciation for what the Boy and Girl Scouts do with our young people.  The seminary provides similar perks: discipline, practical skills, character formation, love of ritual, camaraderie, meals.  One way or another, I got what I needed!  

A number of our diocesan priests are Eagle Scouts.  In conversation with our scouts, it's always neat to bring out the connections between Scouting and the Priesthood; God knows that both "organizations" can use efforts for recruitment and retention.

Anyhow, here is a napkin from the Court of Honor, which features the Eagle medal and the twelve points of the Scout Law:

The question came to me, "What is the root of the word 'scout'?"  So I did what every word geek with a smartphone would do.

Curiosity Built The App

The deepest root, auscultare, immediately brought me back to the prologue of the Rule of St. Benedict:

Obsculta, o fili, praecepta magistri, et inclina aurem cordis tui, et admonitionem pii patris libenter excipe et efficaciter comple, ut ad eum per oboedientiae laborem redeas, a quo per inoboedientiae desidiam recesseras. (Text citation)

Listen carefully, my child, to your master's precepts, and incline the ear of your heart (Prov. 4:20).  Receive willingly and carry out effectively your loving father's advice, that by the labor of obedience you may return to Him from whom you had departed by the sloth of disobedience. (Text citation)

*(OK--so it starts "obsculta."  I'm no scholar, but I don't think there's much difference.  I'm not letting this whole article dissolve on account of a bloody particle.)

And what does "auscultate" mean?  Glad you asked.  To listen for the sake of making a medical diagnosis--ultimately, from the Latin auris (ear).  Listening in general is more than the "hearing" that children offer to their parents' call ("'Yeah, I hear ya!' Chris said, and summarily rolled over, to get as close to oversleeping as possible.")  Listening for diagnosis involves engagement of the whole self, intuition included: "What is really going on here?"

A scout's attentiveness enables him to "be prepared" for whatever instructions may follow, whatever nature sounds he may expect to hear, or which scout is out to capture the same flag as he is.  The constant next step of the scout's auscultation is, "What must I do now?"  The scout can have no desidia, no sluggishness that would hinder him from the prompt action that his goals require.

Who among us would not profit from a recommitment to kindness, thriftiness, cleanliness, reverence, loyalty, and all the rest?

We can take our cue from the scout, whose obedience to good direction sets him on the path to the twelve apostolic virtues that his Law dictates and to which his Oath forever binds him.

Holy Family Matters Worth Considering

In the beginning of the rite for baptism of a child, the priest or deacon asks the child’s parents two questions that seem unnecessary.  The second question is, "What do you ask of God's Church for [Junior]?"  Obviously not a haircut or college tuition!  

I don't prompt the answer beforehand.  Some people aren't sure how to respond.  Why are they here?  Family tradition?  The expectations that "this is just what we do"?  To make sure that the kid's OK "if, God forbid, something should happen" (as if God would turn His Face on him or her)?  It's a question worth asking not only in the ritual itself, but before and after the baptism.

The first question is, “What name have you given your child?”  We already know that answer, too; but posing the question reminds us that, in the poetic story of creation (cf. Gen 2:18-20), the man named the animals God made for him.  During the Name Game, the man was seeking a suitable helpmate.  At last a fellow human person was mystically presented and found suitable, and he named her “Eve.”  He named her: the privilege of naming a creature usually suggests some measure of authority over it or care for it.  Authority and care thus characterize the spousal union.

The stories of creation illustrate a marvelous use of words.  The man is named Adam, which originates in the Hebrew ‘adamah, “earth”; Eve comes from [c]hay, “life,” and firstborn Cain is a play on qaniti, “I have produced.”  The woman actually declares, “I have produced a man with the help of the Lord” (4:1).  From man’s beginnings we recognize that children are a gift from God in which parents cooperate.  The Church treats specific questions regarding the conception of children in light of God’s design of sexuality exercised within marriage.  It is far from arbitrary.  The act through which man and woman uniquely are bound together within the marital context provides material for the Creator to work with—the spouses’ own bodies, made fully available to each other and to God.  An offering of the body necessarily includes the soul, and presumes a partnership of the whole of life.  Children have a right to be born into, and nurtured by, a total, faithful, permanent, and generously fruitful partnership.

Can God work outside of that ideal context?  He certainly does; I don’t have to tell you that.  Not every child is conceived or born in marriage, or by natural means.  Not all spouses exercise fidelity, exclusivity, and openness to new life; not every marriage is marked by mutual respect and affection, all the time.  We are all afflicted by original sin and the resultant tendency to sin: the confusion of the emotions, the clouding of the intellect, and the weakening of the will.  The sad history of the human race testifies to this.  As our pastor's late grandmother used to say, “There’s smoke in every kitchen.”  And yet the cooking continues, as it must, until the last day.

Through the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, salvation came to the human race.  We therefore look to them with gratitude, and strive to imitate their virtues.  Perhaps the primary virtue is perseverance—perseverance in forming children in the ways of purity, kindness, and honesty, and seeking such formation for ourselves in the process.  Another virtue is detachment, “letting go” of the outcome in children’s lives.  With great care we form our children, and in time we must recognize their freedom.  To the consternation of His parents, Jesus' freedom seemed to come early; but with Mary and Joseph’s detachment He proceeded according to His Heavenly Father’s plan.  We recall that the virtuous pursuits of many saints met emphatic opposition from their closest relatives and friends.  How often have poor formation and excessive parental attachment thwarted solid vocations to marriage, consecrated life, or priesthood?  In this and every other respect we can only move forward; so resolve with me today to repent for our sins and to advance joyfully in the Way marked out by the Holy Family.

Good Stock

This past Sunday, on my way back to the sacristy, I stopped to say hello to one of our many true blue, Daily-Mass-attending ladies (whom I shall call Helen).  She was speaking to a few people about her coal-region hometown where, in her childhood, she would pick coal.  The practice of coal picking was not unlike "gleaning" in the Old Testament book of Ruth.  The harvesters would leave behind grain for the widow, foreigner, and orphan to take home (cf. Ruth 2).  With this I was familiar, as my own father picked coal for the house in Shenandoah.

Helen went on to mention an astounding fact.  Her mother, who also had picked coal, did so on the very morning that she took a bus to the hospital to give birth to her! 

This is the kind of stock from which she came; and for her part, Helen went on to marry, have two boys and a girl, work to support the home, become very much involved in her parish, and eventually care for her husband during his mental and physical decline.  Nearing 80, she has resumed membership in the choir (for which she and her husband had been singing until his dementia began), continues to attend daily Mass, and stays close to her kids as well as her older sister who lives back home.  She has her own share of physical ailments, perhaps more than the average; but undaunted, she presses on.

I mention this woman's story as a sort of ecclesial service announcement.  It's along the lines of the "Days of the Giants" narrative that every generation seems to take up in its time: "The kids today don't have it nearly as tough as we did," etc.  But I spin it thus: as the Church, as a parish, as communities and as families, we will have it much tougher than they did--because I don't see many of us turning out as determined, devout, and dedicated as Helen's generation.  Maybe it's too soon to tell, and maybe I'm more of a pessimist, but it's my current hunch.

I'd love to be proved wrong in time.  Meanwhile, I will thoroughly enjoy people like Helen, and pray that God will raise up priests, religious, spouses, and parents of like stock.  The current generations must ask themselves what they are doing to cultivate holiness and virtue in their charges.  What kind of example are we capable of offering them, in terms of our own fidelity to commitments, our religious and spiritual sensibilities?  Great athletes and great students, even great artists and musicians--spend however much time, energy, and money as you wish on such investments--but what about good churchgoers, from which arise faithful Catholics from vestibule to sanctuary?

In our time we scarcely can take for granted that ordinations, marriages, and baptisms will proliferate.  (Funny, how the word proliferate starts with "pro" and continues with "life.")

"Do not be afraid any longer, little flock, for your Father is pleased to give you the kingdom" (Lk 12:32).