The Spectre of Death

I learned--inadvertently and unexpectedly by way of a second-hand tag--that a man I knew, had lived with and worked beside at The Catholic Worker 18 years ago, died this week in his early fifties. From what I gathered, it was by his own hand, and I was not surprised to learn from those in the community who knew him that he struggled with depression.

I don't feel comfortable or entitled to write about him in any kind of elegy fashion. It's a community committed to social justice in the far-left activist tradition that I no longer feel connected to. I have some fond memories of working in the community garden together, running around town in his old pick up truck picking up free food for the poor, attending Mass together across the street from where we lived, hanging anti-war and anti-capitalist messages hand painted on bedsheets out the bay window of our row house, and his tales of being arrested and protesting at the School of the Americas calling for demilitarization and nuclear disarmament. He was a difficult guy to live with temperament wise for me, but was true to his calling of radically living the Gospel message and embracing decentralized governance and voluntary poverty in the spirit of Dorothy Day and Peter Maurin. He was a one of a kind character for sure and dressed the part, with his gruff voice, barrel chest, overalls, and long nattled hair. Everybody in the 'hood knew and loved N.

I have written about suicide and resisting the allure of the phantasmal Noonday Demon here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here and here. It's no stranger, and though I may not feel entitled to write an elegy for N., the jarring reminder of the spectre of death that this demon brings on his back appeared when I read the news. No one, no family, is immune from it.

Our Lord says in scripture, "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full (Jn 10:10). This describes my view of suicide; it robs life. It is always tragic, especially for those who love the one robbed of life. Like the Devil himself, the promises of suicide are lies, the ultimate lies.

On the topic of suicide, the Catechism states:

2280 Everyone is responsible for his life before God who has given it to him. It is God who remains the sovereign Master of life. We are obliged to accept life gratefully and preserve it for his honor and the salvation of our souls. We are stewards, not owners, of the life God has entrusted to us. It is not ours to dispose of.

2281 Suicide contradicts the natural inclination of the human being to preserve and perpetuate his life. It is gravely contrary to the just love of self. It likewise offends love of neighbor because it unjustly breaks the ties of solidarity with family, nation, and other human societies to which we continue to have obligations. Suicide is contrary to love for the living God.

2282 If suicide is committed with the intention of setting an example, especially to the young, it also takes on the gravity of scandal. Voluntary co-operation in suicide is contrary to the moral law.
Grave psychological disturbances, anguish, or grave fear of hardship, suffering, or torture can diminish the responsibility of the one committing suicide.

It is often presumed that the Church says with unequivocally that those who have committed this sin have bought a one way ticket to Hell. Although we can reasonably speculate that Hell is not, in fact, empty--that many, many people go there--it is not in fact for us to speculate on those who go there. We may be certain of those in Heaven, the canonized saints. But as to the eternal fate of the large majority of us commonplace run of the mill sinners--God reserves the knowledge. It is not our place to judge souls.

The Devil wants us to despair. But its antidote--hope--is a powerful virtue. As the Catechism states,

2283 We should not despair of the eternal salvation of persons who have taken their own lives. By ways known to him alone, God can provide the opportunity for salutary repentance. The Church prays for persons who have taken their own lives.

We should be careful not to stand in judgment. What a terrifying prospect, this ricocheting bullet in scripture that threatens to rip through our own lips from which the judgment emminated: "For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you" (Mt 7:2). To consign someone to Hell and then find our own names on the ticket!

Hearing of suicides--friends, family, strangers, teenagers, elderly, those well off with everything and those struggling under the weight of despair, men, women, veterans, housewives--it always shakes me. Because the face of the spectre of death is not a figment, but a familiar visitor I have to continue to resist, having wrestled like Jacob on the edge of the abyss with the Angel of Death, my hip put out of joint as a reminder of the struggle. He flees for a time, and it is only the inoculation of grace, I believe, that keeps him at bay.

Please offer a prayer for N, for the repose of his soul. St. Dymphna, pray for us.

By Your Words You Shall Be Condemned

There is a story from the East I read years ago that has stayed with me over the years. It goes something like this:

"The Zen master Hakuin was praised by his neighbors as one living a pure life.  

A beautiful Japanese girl whose parents owned a food store lived near him. Suddenly, without any warning, her parents discovered she was with child.  

This made her parents angry. She would not confess who the man was, but after much harassment at last named Hakuin.   

In great anger the parents went to the master. "Is that so?" was all he would say.  

After the child was born it was brought to Hakuin. By this time he had lost his reputation, which did not trouble him, but he took very good care of the child. He obtained milk from his neighbors and everything else the little one needed.  

A year later the girl-mother could stand it no longer. She told her parents the truth--that the real father of the child was a young man who worked in the fishmarket.  

The mother and father of the girl at once went to Hakuin to ask his forgiveness, to apologize at length, and to get the child back again.  

Hakuin was willing. In yielding the child, all he said was: "Is that so?""

There is a similar story in the deuterocanonical 13th chapter of Daniel that gives light to living under false accusations from the vantage point of Susanna, the beautiful and God-fearing wife of Joakim, a rich and respected Jew.

In the story, two elders who have been appointed as judges and who were regulars at Joakim's house become enamored of his wife Susanna, and lust for her. It is interesting to note that "though both were enamored of her, they did not tell each other their trouble, for they were ashamed to reveal their lustful desire to have her" (Dan 13:10).

When the two lawless perverts go their separate ways but embarrassingly end up back at the same spot on account of their burning passion, they decide to conspire together to find an opportunity to make her the object of their lust. Susanna is cornered in the garden where she is bathing but cries out; in response to their thwarted desires, she is subsequently falsely accused by the wicked elders. The story is preposterous given Susanna's reputation; nonetheless, "the assembly believed them, since they were elders and judges of the people," and condemned her to death (13:41).

Susanna knows she has no recourse but to God alone, and cries out to Him aloud. And it is written, "the Lord heard her prayer" (13:44). He sends the young Daniel to speak out against the injustice, who sends the people back to court. Daniel separates the two elders, obtains conflicting stories and in the process exposes their lies. Susanna is vindicated and the lawless judges are put to death in accordance with the law of Moses.

I happened upon this story of Susanna by way of the inestimable St. Ambrose, who makes reference to her in his treatise "On The Duties of Clergy." Although covering various facets of the state of the ministerial office, it is his words on the virtue of holding silence that held me.

Why? Because I have a big mouth, that's why. Not only that, but those many hidden sins that we conveniently excuse ourselves from, or are not able to see but by grace, show us just how far we are from sainthood.


It Is Dangerous To Speak

Ambrose posits that there is more merit in keeping silent than in speaking, a virtue made all the more arduous to attain because of our sinful tongues and the temptations of the Enemy. He writes,

"What need is there, then, that you should hasten to undergo the danger of condemnation by speaking, when you can be more safe by keeping silent? How many have I seen to fall into sin by speaking, but scarcely one by keeping silent; and so it is more difficult to know how to keep silent than how to speak. I know that most persons speak because they do not know how to keep silent. It is seldom that any one is silent even when speaking profits him nothing. He is wise, then, who knows how to keep silent." (2.5)

Likewise, we see in the saints the model of holy silence. They eschewed in horror the occasions of sin, whether by fear, prudence, or recognition of their own weakness; we know that the tongue is no exception.

"Therefore the saints of the Lord loved to keep silence, because they knew that a man's voice is often the utterance of sin, and a man's speech is the beginning of human error. Lastly, the Saint of the Lord said: I said, I will take heed to my ways, that I offend not in my tongue. For he knew and had read that it was a mark of the divine protection for a man to be hid from the scourge of his own tongue, Job 5:21 and the witness of his own conscience. We are chastised by the silent reproaches of our thoughts, and by the judgment of conscience. We are chastised also by the lash of our own voice, when we say things whereby our soul is mortally injured, and our mind is sorely wounded." (2.6)

Our Lord says that we must give an account of every idle word uttered (Mt 12:36). What a frightening thought when your mouth is like the flapper of a toilet with a kinked chain that constantly gets stuck open.

Active and Idle Silence

Ambrose distinguishes between the holy and active silence of heroines like Susanna who stake their trust in God, and the lazy idle silence of those afraid to speak when speech is warranted. He extols the virtues of David who "enjoined on himself not constant silence, but watchfulness." In the story of Susanna, it is Daniel who is enflamed to speak, when he could have idly stood by and let an innocent woman be put to death. Our lips must be guarded in the way we guard our hearts, as he quotes the prophet "Hedge your possession about with thorns, and bind up your silver and gold, and make a door and a bar for your mouth, and a yoke and a balance for your words" (Sirach 28:24-25).


Words of Provocation

In the fourth chapter of his treatise, Ambrose lays out how the Enemy uses our passions and our words of expression against us through temptation. Social media, for all its merits, is often a fetid swamp of temptation to sins against the tongue, to uncharity, to rash judgment, and to passion contrary to reason. It takes a very restrained man to navigate it, and I am not one of those men, for in the virtues Ambrose extols--mildness, gentleness, modesty, temperance, patience--are sorely lacking in my character, and so his words serve as a searing indictment.

"If any one takes heed to this, he will be mild, gentle, modest. For in guarding his mouth, and restraining his tongue, and in not speaking before examining, pondering, and weighing his words — as to whether this should be said, that should be answered, or whether it be a suitable time for this remark — he certainly is practising modesty, gentleness, patience. So he will not burst out into speech through displeasure or anger, nor give sign of any passion in his words, nor proclaim that the flames of lust are burning in his language, or that the incentives of wrath are present in what he says. Let him act thus for fear that his words, which ought to grace his inner life, should at the last plainly show and prove that there is some vice in his morals. 

For then especially does the enemy lay his plans, when he sees passions engendered in us; then he supplies tinder; then he lays snares. Wherefore the prophet says not without cause, as we heard read today: Surely He has delivered me from the snare of the hunter and from the hard word. Symmachus said this means the word of provocation; others the word that brings disquiet. The snare of the enemy is our speech — but that itself is also just as much an enemy to us. Too often we say something that our foe takes hold of, and whereby he wounds us as though by our own sword. How far better it is to perish by the sword of others than by our own! 

Accordingly the enemy tests our arms and clashes together his weapons. If he sees that I am disturbed, he implants the points of his darts, so as to raise a crop of quarrels. If I utter an unseemly word, he sets his snare. Then he puts before me the opportunity for revenge as a bait, so that in desiring to be revenged, I may put myself in the snare, and draw the death-knot tight for myself. If any one feels this enemy is near, he ought to give greater heed to his mouth, lest he make room for the enemy; but not many see him." (4.14-16)

Not Ashamed To Become Dumb

The most convicting section in his treatise is chapter 5 in which the saint warns against the temptation to return abuse. It is a just man who hides his feelings. For someone who loves the power of expression, it can be a painful prospect to remain silent when you feel the urge to retaliate or defend yourself when spoke against, like trying to hold it in when you really have to go to the bathroom. I love the expression he uses "to preserve the fruit of a good conscience...to trust himself to the judgment of good men than to the insolence of a calumniator, and to be satisfied with the stability of his own character." This is the "Is That So?" opportunity, for according to Ambrose one should keep silence even from good words, since one who has a good conscience should not be troubled by false words. I recall Cardinal Sarah seeming to institute this by his dignified and humble silence when he was maligned by detractors. How much I have to learn under the tutelage of silence.

"But we must also guard against him who can be seen, and who provokes us, and spurs us on, and exasperates us, and supplies what will excite us to licentiousness or lust. If, then, any one reviles us, irritates, stirs us up to violence, tries to make us quarrel; let us keep silence, let us not be ashamed to become dumb. For he who irritates us and does us an injury is committing sin, and wishes us to become like himself.

Certainly if you are silent, and hide your feelings, he is likely to say: Why are you silent? Speak if you dare; but you dare not, you are dumb, I have made you speechless. If you are silent, he is the more excited. He thinks himself beaten, laughed at, little thought of, and ridiculed. If you answer, he thinks he has become the victor, because he has found one like himself. For if you are silent, men will say: That man has been abusive, but this one held him in contempt. If you return the abuse, they will say: Both have been abusive. Both will be condemned, neither will be acquitted. Therefore it is his object to irritate, so that I may speak and act as he does. But it is the duty of a just man to hide his feelings and say nothing, to preserve the fruit of a good conscience, to trust himself rather to the judgment of good men than to the insolence of a calumniator, and to be satisfied with the stability of his own character. For that is: To keep silence even from good words; since one who has a good conscience ought not to be troubled by false words, nor ought he to make more of another's abuse than of the witness of his own heart.

So, then, let a man guard also his humility. If, however, he is unwilling to appear too humble, he thinks as follows, and says within himself: Am I to allow this man to despise me, and say such things to my face against me, as though I could not open my mouth before him? Why should I not also say something whereby I can grieve him? Am I to let him do me wrong, as though I were not a man, and as though I could not avenge myself? Is he to bring charges against me as though I could not bring together worse ones against him?

Whoever speaks like this is not gentle and humble, nor is he without temptation. The tempter stirs him up, and himself puts such thoughts in his heart. Often and often, too, the evil spirit employs another person, and gets him to say such things to him; but do thou set your foot firm on the rock. Although a slave should abuse, let the just man be silent, and if a weak man utter insults, let him be silent, and if a poor man should make accusations, let him not answer. These are the weapons of the just man, so that he may conquer by giving way, as those skilled in throwing the javelin are wont to conquer by giving way, and in flight to wound their pursuers with severer blows." (5.17-20)

Silence and bridling of the tongue when faced with the temptation to return calumny blow for blow is a powerful weapon. We should not underestimate the power of such temptation either, for resisting the desire for revenge and the desire to speak when we should keep silent can press against us the way a man labors against lust; he suffers for it. It burns and presses against him, promising that it will never subside until satiated. It is during these times that we must pray, trust, and resist, holding fast to Christ and following his character. A man most chaste, meek and mild, who opened not his mouth and never let an idle word come to pass and who kept silence amidst fools.

When your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat, and if he is thirsty give him water to drink. This is the "active silence" of holy resistance, the heaping of coals upon your enemy's head (Prov 25:21-22). What enemy, you might ask? Our detractors? Perhaps. But we should not overlook the Enemy lurking in our hearts, from where all evil comes (Mt 15:19; Jer 17:9).

When faced with the prospect of offending the Lord and our neighbor by our tongue and careless words, or holding the burning coal of silence in our mouth, which sears our wicked tongue and blisters our sinful mouth, we should eschew the former and embrace the latter. It is the Lord who burns us, as he did Isaiah, who accused himself of being a man of unclean lips and the Lord in response touched his lips with a red hot ember (Is 6:5-7).

"But I tell you that anyone who is angry with a brother or sister will be subject to judgment. Again, anyone who says to a brother or sister, 'Raca,' is answerable to the court. And anyone who says, 'You fool!' will be in danger of the fire of hell." (Mt 5:22)

May the Lord sear our lips and seal the vault of our mouth to preserve us from blasphemy, from sin against our neighbor, and from the indictments we issue which condemn us to hell. And Lord, please start with me.