Thursday, October 5, 2017

When You Throw A Book Across The Room...Pay Attention

I don't think there's anything more misunderstood in the life of faith for the Catholic today than the role of the conscience.

The Catechism states that

"Deep within his conscience man discovers a law which he has not laid upon himself but which he must obey. Its voice, ever calling him to love and to do what is good and to avoid evil, sounds in his heart at the right moment. . . . For man has in his heart a law inscribed by God. . . . His conscience is man's most secret core and his sanctuary. There he is alone with God whose voice echoes in his depths" (CCC 1776). 

Conscience is "a judgment of reason by which the human person recognizes the moral quality of a concrete act" (1796). It needs to be well-formed according to reason in conformity with the true good willed by the Creator. And the kicker: man must always obey the certain judgment of his conscience (1800).

We humans have an incredible ability for self-justification. St. Benedict writes of those detestable monks (Sarabaites) to whom

"the gratification of their desires is law unto them; because what they choose to do they call holy, but what they dislike they hold to be unlawful." (Rule, Chapter 1)

How easy it is to fall into this kind of rotten discernment without a guide. Thankfully we have a guide--Christ, Tradition, Scripture, the Magisterium. It's all right there. Even for pagans, the Natural Law is written on their hearts, as St. Paul writes:

"For when Gentiles who do not have the Law do instinctively the things of the Law, these, not having [c]the Law, are a law to themselves, in that they show the work of the Law written in their hearts, their conscience bearing witness and their thoughts alternately accusing or else defending them on the day when, according to my gospel, God will judge the secrets of men through Christ Jesus." (Rom 2:14-16)

So what does all this have to do with throwing books across the room? Well, let me relay an incidence that happened on two occasions where the Holy Spirit was ramming a finger into my ribcage.

When I was in college, my girlfriend at the time gave me a novel by a man named (its fortuitous I remember, that says something) Bud MacFarlane Jr titled Pierced by a Sword.  There's a bunch of random characters and it was kind of entertaining to read but I don't remember any of it really now. The only thing I remember, vividly, was a section of the plot in which one of the characters dies and goes to Hell and Satan says to the person, "Contraception has made you mine." I remember reading it to this day.

I read it and threw the book across the room.

Fast forward a few years later. I am visiting my friends Duncan and Cathleen in Phoenix and we are going to Mass. After Mass there is a bookstore in the giftshop and there was a book that (I can't remember) Cathleen bought me by Christopher West titled Good News About Sex And Marriage. Again, I read all about Pope John Paul II's "Theology of the Body" and the Church's teaching on the use of artificial contraception (it's a mortal sin).

I threw the book across the room.



Really, it's hard to communicate just how much I was pricked and raging against what I was reading. It was utterly ridiculous and antiquated, backwards and absolutely impractical, heavy burdens tied up and laid on shoulders. I didn't understand the Church's teaching and I didn't care to. All I knew was that it was stupid and I hated it. Hence the visceral book throwing.

But the reactions we have when we're pushed and pricked can hold a key to something if we consider them more closely. Why does the Protestant rail against Mary? Why does the atheist rage against the problem of evil? Why does the rich man push back hard against the Gospel's preferential option for the poor? Could it be because they know, deep down in their inner sanctuary, that the Church is right; that God exists; that the poor are Christ himself?

Our conscience--the law written on our hearts--is a profound gift. It is the gift of God that has its root in freedom; that is, our free will, our capacity to love and obey free of coercion--the gift we offer humbly back to our Creator. We have a responsibility to form it careful and it takes work and effort to do that, aided by grace and fostered by humility and openness. As Solomon prayed, "Give Your servant an understanding heart to judge Your people to discern between good and evil" (1 Kings 3:9).

It is a spiritual work of mercy to "Instruct the Ignorant." It is a work of great mercy but it is tough love, and one should be prepared for pushback. I'm grateful (now, in hindsight) for those people who gently pushed me into conviction, who didn't back down but spoke Truth unapologetically. It stings, it  really does. But the Lord is the Divine Physician, and sometimes what is good for our souls is not pleasing to our bodies, our senses, our situations.

Don't forget: this game of life is a high-stakes, one-and-done sojourn. There's no re-runs, no second-chances after we die. We have one soul, and that soul is going to be judged. So if a friend ever bursts your bubble of ignorance by gifting you with true Gospel teaching, rather than punch him in the face--thank him. You'll be happy you listened and changed course when you go before the Throne.

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