Online Communities Are Not Real Communities

 Recently I joined an online community as a way to connect with other Catholics, hopefully deepen my prayer life, and have some support in my spiritual journey. After twelve years on Facebook, I deleted my account two years ago after experiencing a growing dis-ease with both the platform and online interaction as a whole. And so there was some vacancy for me, both in terms of mental space and new-found time, that I found I had after giving up social media. Maybe it was time to revisit the online space and get engaged again?

I went through a kind of module orientation (virtual, of course) for this particular apostolate, watched the videos, learned the rules and etiquette of this particular community as well as its charism, and was a approved as a new member. The website was very well-done, professional and interactive; I made a profile, and within a few days my inbox was starting to be populated with "New Activity" or "New Discussion" notifications--people posting asking questions about prayer, or sharing something they had read, or bringing up topics for conversation. I joined in on a few discussions, even, and attended a Zoom meeting with hundreds of people involved in the apostolate to discuss a spiritual book.

After a few months, though, I started to feel the lack of real-world connection. My inbox filling up each day with people posting this or that, lots of topical 'activity' but no real meaningful connection with individuals, and just feeling like it had the potential to be a repeat of my years on Facebook--posting, checking, dinging, engaging, scrolling, and feeling ultimately unsatisfied and sometimes even agitated at the end of the day. I tried to remember the original reasons I got off in the first place, and saw that this was just a differently packaged experience from the same type of factory. 

Before I got off Facebook, the people I did stay in touch with I connected with and got their phone numbers before jumping ship. Some of these people became real-life friends, who I have met in person and/or talk or text with regularly. There are a few, though, that I find it strange I have no idea what they even look like in person, having never met them and the fact that they never had an online photo of themselves. I go back to this question of "what makes someone a true friend?" and, by extension, "what makes a bonafide community?"

I know for some people who are isolated, introverted, or geographically remote, online-internet-virtual communities may be a lifeline to assuage loneliness and feel connected with others of like-mind, even if it's through a strand of ethernet cable. They look forward to waking up and logging on to their computer and getting down to the business of posting, discussing, and engaging. 

I've thought about this a lot, and I keep coming back to this Matrix-like situation in which a collective of individuals online (on social media, in chat rooms, in online-only apostolates, etc) feel like it's so real, so true, and yet--it's still a mirage of reality. Pardon the crassness, but sex with a condom comes to mind. So close to what's real and true, and yet still a counterfeit separated from reality and fruitfulness by a fraction of a millimeter of rubber.

For someone like myself who is searching for deep, meaningful friendships that are of course Catholic, but even go beyond the topical to a kind of 'communing of souls' that St. Augustine writes so elegantly about, it's a constant source of frustration and disappointment. It reminds me of that film Her with Joaquin Phoenix in which he falls in love with an Operating System (OS), A.I. that seems to know him more intimately than anyone else. And yet, it's still the latex hangover of waking up and realizing that those feelings of intimacy are "always real, but never true."

I think Tommy Killackey in "Talking At Each Other" (Fraternus/Sword & Spade) nails it here:

"Friendships of virtue, by contrast, require a much deeper commitment and investment than those of utility of pleasure. The facade of the screen might not just limit things like physical encounter, but it also helps us avoid the vulnerability required of true friendship. [Roger] Scruton [in Confessions of a Heretic] again helps us here:

"By placing a screen between yourself and the friend, while retaining ultimate control over what appears on that screen, you also hide from the real encounter--forbidding to the other the power and freedom to challenge you in your deeper nature and to call on you here and now to take responsibility for yourself and for him" (Scruton, 96).

Put simply, intimacy and control cannot coexist. Social media always renders us in complete control, and whether we choose to click, scroll, watch, reply, like, or close our tab, we individually always have the power within our fingertips. Scruton goes on to say, 

"Risk avoidance in human relations means the avoidance of accountability, the refusal to stand judged in another's eyes, to come face to face with another person, to live yourself in whatever measure to him or her, and so to run the risk of rejection" (Ibid, 108). 

We might call this Scruton's warning against the risk of avoiding risk. The "risky" friendships that "call us out of ourselves [to] take up our crosses" were not built online, nor could they exist there exclusively. We may still interact online, but the soul of virtuous friendship where we risk encountering another can only occur offline. 

Friendships of utility may exist on LinkedIn, friendships of pleasure may exist in double-tapping our friend's latest post on Instagram, but as long as we maintain perfect control over the encounter, we cannot truly share life, encounter, risk, accompany, and be with anyone behind a screen, full stop." 

The maintaining of control, the lack of vulnerability, the inability to read body language, the unwillingness to engage outside the platform, absence of accountability--these are all things that I think lend credence to the position that online communities are not real communities. Or rather, maybe better stated, online communities are real but not true communities.

When I was quitting smoking I attended a Nicotine Anonymous meeting. I tried to find one in my area in person, but the lady who ran them formerly said there just wasn't enough interest in it in person. I went to a Zoom NA meeting instead. I can't describe it, but it left a lot to be desired, and I quit on my own without going to another one. Post-Covid, I have come to loathe Zoom for anything but the most utilitarian of work meetings.

Have you ever asked yourself why people are more lonely, more socially stunted (especially Millennials), more disconnected, more despairing today? You don't think maybe, just maybe, this type of contracepted "social" internet space contributes to that? Like, that your body could really use a hearty loaf of good bread to satisfy your hunger but instead you are sitting down with a bowl of Fruit Loops instead because that's what's in the pantry? We need to admit this "era of social media" was the Vatican II of social engineering, an novel experiment that was bad for society, failing to delivery on its promises and better suited for the scrap pile of history.

I feel like I have enough years--decades almost--of skin in this game and experience in the online world to be able to reflect on it with some street cred. I've played the game and been around the block, and I have nothing much to show for it, kind of like past one-night stands and and hookups where I was looking for connection, love, and yes, gratification and afterwards left emptyhanded. Always real, and never true. 

I don't know where this leaves me currently, only that my time in prayer and time with my family has become deeper, more heavy and yes, lonely at times, but in a good way--not empty, but real and painful because we are not meant solely for life here on earth but Eternity. I'm less willing to settle for counterfeits and Pavlov-like distractions now that I know what they promise and fail to deliver on, and I'm less inclined to try to fill up that loneliness with discussion/engagement/zoom/distraction for the sake of feeling connected to a ethereal community. 

The Horror of Famine

I had been listening to Eusebius' History of the Church on audiobook for my five hour drive for work yesterday and came upon this chapter describing the famine that occurred during the siege of Jerusalem in 70AD when Jews were "shut up as in a prison" within her walls. What follows is a most terrible account, but shows what men are capable of when they become insane with hunger. Let it be a warning to us all! 

Chapter 6. The Famine which oppressed them.

1. Taking the fifth book of the History of Josephus again in our hands, let us go through the tragedy of events which then occurred.

2. For the wealthy, he says, it was equally dangerous to remain. For under pretense that they were going to desert, men were put to death for their wealth. The madness of the seditions increased with the famine and both the miseries were inflamed more and more day by day.

3. Nowhere was food to be seen; but, bursting into the houses men searched them thoroughly, and whenever they found anything to eat they tormented the owners on the ground that they had denied that they had anything; but if they found nothing, they tortured them on the ground that they had more carefully concealed it.

4. The proof of their having or not having food was found in the bodies of the poor wretches. Those of them who were still in good condition they assumed were well supplied with food, while those who were already wasted away they passed by, for it seemed absurd to slay those who were on the point of perishing for want.

5. Many, indeed, secretly sold their possessions for one measure of wheat, if they belonged to the wealthier class, of barley if they were poorer. Then shutting themselves up in the innermost parts of their houses, some ate the grain uncooked on account of their terrible want, while others baked it according as necessity and fear dictated.

6. Nowhere were tables set, but, snatching the yet uncooked food from the fire, they tore it in pieces. Wretched was the fare, and a lamentable spectacle it was to see the more powerful secure an abundance while the weaker mourned.

7. Of all evils, indeed, famine is the worst, and it destroys nothing so effectively as shame. For that which under other circumstances is worthy of respect, in the midst of famine is despised. Thus women snatched the food from the very mouths of their husbands and children, from their fathers, and what was most pitiable of all, mothers from their babes. And while their dearest ones were wasting away in their arms, they were not ashamed to take away from them the last drops that supported life.

8. And even while they were eating thus they did not remain undiscovered. But everywhere the rioters appeared, to rob them even of these portions of food. For whenever they saw a house shut up, they regarded it as a sign that those inside were taking food. And immediately bursting open the doors they rushed in and seized what they were eating, almost forcing it out of their very throats.

9. Old men who clung to their food were beaten, and if the women concealed it in their hands, their hair was torn for so doing. There was pity neither for gray hairs nor for infants, but, taking up the babes that clung to their morsels of food, they dashed them to the ground. But to those that anticipated their entrance and swallowed what they were about to seize, they were still more cruel, just as if they had been wronged by them.

10. And they devised the most terrible modes of torture to discover food, stopping up the privy passages of the poor wretches with bitter herbs, and piercing their seats with sharp rods. And men suffered things horrible even to hear of, for the sake of compelling them to confess to the possession of one loaf of bread, or in order that they might be made to disclose a single drachm of barley which they had concealed. But the tormentors themselves did not suffer hunger.

11. Their conduct might indeed have seemed less barbarous if they had been driven to it by necessity; but they did it for the sake of exercising their madness and of providing sustenance for themselves for days to come.

12. And when any one crept out of the city by night as far as the outposts of the Romans to collect wild herbs and grass, they went to meet him; and when he thought he had already escaped the enemy, they seized what he had brought with him, and even though oftentimes the man would entreat them, and, calling upon the most awful name of God, adjure them to give him a portion of what he had obtained at the risk of his life, they would give him nothing back. Indeed, it was fortunate if the one that was plundered was not also slain.

13. To this account Josephus, after relating other things, adds the following: The possibility of going out of the city being brought to an end, all hope of safety for the Jews was cut off. And the famine increased and devoured the people by houses and families. And the rooms were filled with dead women and children, the lanes of the city with the corpses of old men.

14. Children and youths, swollen with the famine, wandered about the marketplaces like shadows, and fell down wherever the death agony overtook them. The sick were not strong enough to bury even their own relatives, and those who had the strength hesitated because of the multitude of the dead and the uncertainty as to their own fate. Many, indeed, died while they were burying others, and many betook themselves to their graves before death came upon them.

15. There was neither weeping nor lamentation under these misfortunes; but the famine stifled the natural affections. Those that were dying a lingering death looked with dry eyes upon those that had gone to their rest before them. Deep silence and death-laden night encircled the city.

16. But the robbers were more terrible than these miseries; for they broke open the houses, which were now mere sepulchres, robbed the dead and stripped the covering from their bodies, and went away with a laugh. They tried the points of their swords in the dead bodies, and some that were lying on the ground still alive they thrust through in order to test their weapons. But those that prayed that they would use their right hand and their sword upon them, they contemptuously left to be destroyed by the famine. Every one of these died with eyes fixed upon the temple; and they left the seditious alive.

17. These at first gave orders that the dead should be buried out of the public treasury, for they could not endure the stench. But afterward, when they were not able to do this, they threw the bodies from the walls into the trenches.

18. And as Titus went around and saw the trenches filled with the dead, and the thick blood oozing out of the putrid bodies, he groaned aloud, and, raising his hands, called God to witness that this was not his doing.

19. After speaking of some other things, Josephus proceeds as follows: I cannot hesitate to declare what my feelings compel me to. I suppose, if the Romans had longer delayed in coming against these guilty wretches, the city would have been swallowed up by a chasm, or overwhelmed with a flood, or struck with such thunderbolts as destroyed Sodom. For it had brought forth a generation of men much more godless than were those that suffered such punishment. By their madness indeed was the whole people brought to destruction.

20. And in the sixth book he writes as follows: Of those that perished by famine in the city the number was countless, and the miseries they underwent unspeakable. For if so much as the shadow of food appeared in any house, there was war, and the dearest friends engaged in hand-to-hand conflict with one another, and snatched from each other the most wretched supports of life.

21. Nor would they believe that even the dying were without food; but the robbers would search them while they were expiring, lest any one should feign death while concealing food in his bosom. With mouths gaping for want of food, they stumbled and staggered along like mad dogs, and beat the doors as if they were drunk, and in their impotence they would rush into the same houses twice or thrice in one hour.

22. Necessity compelled them to eat anything they could find, and they gathered and devoured things that were not fit even for the filthiest of irrational beasts. Finally they did not abstain even from their girdles and shoes, and they stripped the hides off their shields and devoured them. Some used even wisps of old hay for food, and others gathered stubble and sold the smallest weight of it for four Attic drachmæ.

23. But why should I speak of the shamelessness which was displayed during the famine toward inanimate things? For I am going to relate a fact such as is recorded neither by Greeks nor Barbarians; horrible to relate, incredible to hear. And indeed I should gladly have omitted this calamity, that I might not seem to posterity to be a teller of fabulous tales, if I had not innumerable witnesses to it in my own age. And besides, I should render my country poor service if I suppressed the account of the sufferings which she endured.

24. There was a certain woman named Mary that dwelt beyond Jordan, whose father was Eleazer, of the village of Bathezor (which signifies the house of hyssop). She was distinguished for her family and her wealth, and had fled with the rest of the multitude to Jerusalem and was shut up there with them during the siege.

25. The tyrants had robbed her of the rest of the property which she had brought with her into the city from Perea. And the remnants of her possessions and whatever food was to be seen the guards rushed in daily and snatched away from her. This made the woman terribly angry, and by her frequent reproaches and imprecations she aroused the anger of the rapacious villains against herself.

26. But no one either through anger or pity would slay her; and she grew weary of finding food for others to eat. The search, too, was already become everywhere difficult, and the famine was piercing her bowels and marrow, and resentment was raging more violently than famine. Taking, therefore, anger and necessity as her counsellors, she proceeded to do a most unnatural thing.

27. Seizing her child, a boy which was sucking at her breast, she said, Oh, wretched child, in war, in famine, in sedition, for what do I preserve you? Slaves among the Romans we shall be even if we are allowed to live by them. But even slavery is anticipated by the famine, and the rioters are more cruel than both. Come, be food for me, a fury for these rioters, and a bye-word to the world, for this is all that is wanting to complete the calamities of the Jews.

28. And when she had said this she slew her son; and having roasted him, she ate one half herself, and covering up the remainder, she kept it. Very soon the rioters appeared on the scene, and, smelling the nefarious odor, they threatened to slay her immediately unless she should show them what she had prepared. She replied that she had saved an excellent portion for them, and with that she uncovered the remains of the child.

29. They were immediately seized with horror and amazement and stood transfixed at the sight. But she said, This is my own son, and the deed is mine. Eat for I too have eaten. Be not more merciful than a woman, nor more compassionate than a mother. But if you are too pious and shrink from my sacrifice, I have already eaten of it; let the rest also remain for me.

30. At these words the men went out trembling, in this one case being affrighted; yet with difficulty did they yield that food to the mother. Forthwith the whole city was filled with the awful crime, and as all pictured the terrible deed before their own eyes, they trembled as if they had done it themselves.

31. Those that were suffering from the famine now longed for death; and blessed were they that had died before hearing and seeing miseries like these.

32. Such was the reward which the Jews received for their wickedness and impiety, against the Christ of God.

A Cradle Of Sophistry

Let me just say out of the gate that Matt even making the decision to host this debate on Pints With Aquinas was a bad idea at best and scandalous at worst.

I have written here about the time I came home with a pamphlet put out by Most Holy Family Monastery (MHFM) that I picked up at a Padre Pio shrine, felt something was off about it, and ended up throwing it in the trash so no one else would inadevertently find it and be led astray by its errors. What Matt is essentially doing with hosting and posting this debate is akin to fishing through the trash for it and making twenty thousand copies free of charge for sedes to distribute.

"Brother" Peter Dimond is not a canonical Benedictine monastic in any sense of the word, but the true definition of the detestable kinds of monks St. Benedict warns about in the first chapter of the Rule (emphasis mine):

"Third, there are the sarabaites, the most detestable kind of monks, who with no experience to guide them, no rule to try them as gold is tried in a furnace (Prov 27:21), have a character as soft as lead. Still loyal to the world by their actions, they clearly lie to God by their tonsure. Two or three together, or even alone, without a shepherd, they pen themselves up in their own sheepfolds, not the Lord’s. Their law is what they like to do, whatever strikes their fancy. Anything they believe in and choose, they call holy; anything they dislike, they consider forbidden."

First, why does this issue of a public debate even matter? Well, when I saw it come across my feed I instantly felt a kind of revulsion. MHFM operates by deception; you can read one father's account of how he lost (and eventually regained) his son to this cult here. And I thought to myself wearily, "how many well-intentioned but naive Catholics are going to click on this video and be swayed by the sedevacantist position away from the Truth?" 

As it turns out, my fears were not unfounded. I could only stomach about five minutes of the "debate" so I can't write the perspective of having viewed it in its entirety, but the comments section was revealing. First, it swelled more than with other PWA videos, and I presume because the sedes came out of the woodwork to rally in it. They are most at home and in their court in the online arena, and comment after comment was like this one that was posted:

"Incredible that someone could listen to this debate and walk away rejecting the sedevacant position. Literally Bro Peter proved that the sedevacatntist position ijs the only possible position a Catholic militant can hold and remain in the The Catholic Church. It's a matter of doctrine, and dogma, and after hearing the facts of the matter any other position held puts one outside of The One True Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church. A Catholic militant simply cannot logically reject the Sedevacantist position, and or esteem these heretical reprobate antichrist antipopes as Pope, and remain in The Bosom of The Catholic Church."

The consensus among almost all, even non-sedes and "normie" Catholics, was that Dimond mopped the floor with Cassman. This is problematic for a number of reasons, not just because Cassman "lost," but because you dont give a platform to sedes in the first place because a platform is what they want most online. The fact that PWA is a more-or-less normie Catholic platform is a thick notch in the bedpost for sedes like Dimond who usually subsist in the digital underground. And the fact that he makes what appears to be the case for the validity of the sede vacante position to unsuspecting but disenfranchised Catholics, it comes across like an effective ISIS recruitment video, pouring gasonline of the fire of defection. Peppered throughout were comments like this one:

"I've been on the fence for awhile. I think I might actually become a sedevacantist because of this debate. Big fan of your show, btw"

Protestantism is an error, but at least they don't pass themselves off as Catholics, unlike the so-called "Old Catholics" and Sedevacantists. I fear Matt has done a lot of inadvertent damage with videos like this one, and if it was for the purpose of driving more traffic to the PWA Youtube channel by way of salaciously clickable content, even more so. As I've said before with regards to Professional Catholic (TM) programming as a way of paying the mortgage: you're better off if you don't quit your day job.

I recall in reading The Confessions of St. Augustine as a young man being in those same formidable years of looking for truth as Augustine was when he fell in with the Mannicheans. He was taken by their seemingly convincing cosmology and way of living, but in earnestly desiring to know the Truth eventually woke up to the defects of their arguments, and that the Truth was not in them. I think one needs to consider the untenability and logical dead end of the sede vacante position objectively (not in this kind of one-two punch debate format, either). But one should also look at the rotten fruit that sedevacantism produces. 

I had the chance to talk with a friend and reader last night who lived for eighteen years in a sedevacantist sect on the West Coast. She detailed the mind-control, the ritual abuse, the sowing seeds of distrust that occurred and broke apart families and led to suicides. She has since left and come back to the true faith, as did these nuns, which is a cause for rejoicing.

When I reflect on the scriptures in Galatians--that the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control (Gal 5:22-23)--I do not see that evidenced in sedevacantism, regardless of how seemingly convincing their online screeds and diatribes are or how many debates they win with ill-prepared normie Catholics. Theirs is a hollow core, an empty gourd; and where the apples rot, the bees gather to sting.

Our current pontiff and the state of the Church do not make it easy to stay on the barque these days. Who wants to be part of a clown Church in its current state? If anything, it feeds this heterodoxy and fans the desire of those who are lured by the asceticism of Orthodoxy and the zealous crusading of Sedevacantism. PWA would have been wise to heed the words of St. Paul to Titus: "But avoid foolish controversies and genealogies and arguments and quarrels about the law, because these are unprofitable and useless."

And yet, here I am. Still. I don't know why, and I can't attribute it to anything apart from 100% pure undiluted grace. It's not the pope. It's not the hierarchy. To keep our eyes fixed on Christ when the world draws our eyes away from Him is a matter not only of focus, but of steadfast survival. The words of Fr. Lazarus El-Anthony, a modern anchorite in Egypt, came to mind: "Out here, no one speaks my language. I have no countrymen...I have no one, no one to help me. If I take my eyes off Christ for one moment, I am completely lost." In our domesticity, we tend to lose sight or forget the intensive spiritual battle for our souls going behind the scenes. The lubricating oil of sophistry greases the skids on chute to Hell, and those who are taken by it do so because they take their eyes off of Christ, the Way, the Truth, the Life. He will restore all things in His time. Until then, we must pray for the grace of patience, perseverance, fortitude, and the wisdom to know what is right and true and what is a lie.

Fruits Of Grace: The First Friday and First Saturday Devotions

 Like many Americans, I carry insurance on a number of different things--some because I'm legally obligated to, and some because I choose to as a matter of risk mitigation. I carry liability insurance for our two cars. I have health and long-term disability insurance through work for myself and my family, and my wife and I both have modest life insurance policies. We carry home insurance on our residence, and I also have an umbrella policy to supplement that as well. 

Paying insurance premiums each month seems like a complete racket...until you actually need it. We haven't had to file too many claims, but when we have, the majority of loss was fortunately covered without too much outlay on our part. I consider the premiums a sunk cost, but ones that provide some peace of mind to deal with the uncertainties of life. 

When I first started doing the Nine First Friday and Five First Saturday devotions a few years ago, I viewed it as a kind of "spiritual insurance policy." Our Lord and Our Lady made promises to those who observe and propagate these devotions as follows:

12 Promises of the Sacred Heart to St. Margaret Mary (First Friday Devotion):

I will give them all the graces necessary for their state of life.

I will give peace in their families.

I will console them in all their troubles.

I will be their refuge in life and especially in death.

I will abundantly bless all their undertakings.

Sinners shall find in my Heart the source and infinite ocean of mercy.

Tepid souls shall become fervent.

Fervent souls shall rise speedily to great perfection.

I will bless those places wherein the image of my Sacred Heart shall be exposed and venerated.

I will give to priests the power to touch the most hardened hearts.

Persons who propagate this devotion shall have their names eternally written in my Heart.

In the excess of the mercy of my heart, I promise you that my all powerful love will grant to all those who will receive Communion on the First Fridays, for nine consecutive months, the grace of final repentance: they will not die in my displeasure, nor without receiving the sacraments; and my Heart will be their secure refuge in that last hour.

The Promise of Our Lady to Sr. Lucia at Fatima (First Saturday Devotion):

"Behold, my daughter, my Heart encircled with thorns, with which ungrateful men pierce It at every moment by their blasphemies and ingratitude. Give me consolation, you, at least; and make known on my behalf that I promise to assist at the hour of death, with the graces necessary for salvation, all who on the First Saturday of five consecutive months confess their sins, receive Holy Communion, recite five decades of the Rosary, and keep me company for fifteen minutes meditating on the mysteries of the Rosary, with the purpose of making reparation to my Immaculate Heart.”

For reference, the conditions for the First Friday devotion are as follows:

Receive Holy Communion on each of the First Fridays;

The nine first Fridays must be consecutive;

They must be made in honor of and in reparation to His Sacred Heart. 

The conditions for the (Five) First Saturday devotion are as follows:

Go to confession;

Receive Holy Communion;

Say five decades of the Rosary;

Keep Our Lady company for 15 minutes, meditating on the mysteries of the Rosary;

Have the intention of making reparation to Our Lady for the offenses listed above.

It can be challenging sometimes for busy families with lots of activities and things to complete the consecutive requirements for these devotions. But it is not onerous, if one prioritizes it. I will sometimes go to noon Mass on campus on Fridays if I can't make the 6pm Latin Mass and benediction at our parish. One time we were traveling all day for vacation on a First Friday and we found a parish offering Mass along our route. I usually go to the 9am Saturday morning, but in a pinch one could do an evening vigil Mass to satisfy the requirement as well. Confession can take place eight days before or after the First Saturday as well, so there is some flexibility as well. 

These are the logistical things with regard to these devotions. But what I really want to focus on here is something else entirely: that commitment to these devotions are rooted in the trust of the penitent in God, and that the fruits of the grace bestowed upon the penitent become truly apparent in this spirit of devotion.

Let's begin with the spirit of trust needed for this devotion. 

When someone promises something, we consider the trustworthiness of the person making the promise. If we encounter a car salesman who promises we will be satisfied with the purchase of a new car that he is selling, what exactly would we base that trust on? Why should we trust them?

In contrast, for a faith to grow, we must have trust in God and believe that He is worthy of trust. And he is. If we hold back on that trust, we become like St. James says, "a man of two minds, unstable in all his ways" (Ja 1:8). To completely abandon ourselves in trust to Christ--to leave our fathers and mothers, our plows, our homes to follow him--and his promises testifies to the degree of our faith in him. A child-like trust in God is pleasing to Him, a worthy oblation. And we must become, as Christ said, "like children" in order to have this trust. The trust of a child is one who rests without fear in his father's arms and falls asleep at once; who believes his father will follow through on what he says. In essence, that our Father is who Christ says he is.

As to the second part, this trust is related to a belief that if the Lord promises certain graces in this devotion, those graces will, in fact, be given to the devotee. The Lord does not give us a scorpion when we ask for an egg (Lk 11:12), and we judge a tree by its fruit (Mt 7:16). 

I can honestly say there were periods in my life in which I felt I would never be free of the shackles of certain sins. To remain in a state of grace for any period of time seemed like a fantasy, an elusive state reserved for saints and people unlike myself. And yet, in large part due to the graces obtained from this devotion, the Lord freed me from one after another habituation and defects that I never thought would have been possible given how mired I was in them. And not only myself, but the grace of peace and consolation in our family has been apparent as well. It's hard to explain or point to one thing or another because the transformation was subtle. But without doubt, we were the recipient of many graces as a family that set us on a firm foundation. I attribute much of this to the First Friday and First Saturday devotion.

There is something else as well--we do not have to fear death, because of these promises of our Lord and our Lady. I trust--as an act of faith--that they will make good on these promises, provided I do my part in this life in co-operation with grace, and that I will not be abandoned to the depths at my hour of death. This is a supreme consolation that also allows us to live life more fully--a life lived in fear is stunted; a life lived free of fear allows one to be bold, to witness, to step out and take chances for the Gospel. It alleviates the anxiety that the prospect of death fills people with, because we know and trust that death has been conquered by Christ. It holds no power over us. 

It should not be overlooked that Our Lord and Our Lady do expect something in return from us, and that is that we complete the devotion in a spirit of reparation for offenses against the Sacred Heart and Immaculate Heart, and in reparation for the ingratitude of men. When we keep Our Lady company, we do so in a spirit of consolation, sharing in her sorrow and providing our small mondicums of comfort to her who suffered so much. In doing so, our own hearts are transformed and more disposed to the fruits of grace promised to us in these devotions.

Our Lord and Our Lady make these promises not because they have to, or because they are compelled to, but because of the overwhelming outpouring of their love and mercy to bring sinners to repentence and their final resting place. One can only be moved to repentance by grace; and yet, repentance itself is a great grace because it reveals to us our natural state. When we believe we stand justified by our works, or by our standing in society, or because we are "good people," we stand deluded. We stand there under the weight of an overwhelming debt we cannot pay and with no recourse. But when we recognize our sinful state and inability to be saved apart from God, we see reality as it really is, and not through a glass darkly (1 Cor 13:12). This is the fruit of grace.

Does our salvation depend on adherence to such devotions, and that those who do not take part in them have no hope of being saved? Of course not. The Lord has mercy on those whom He chooses to (Rom 9:18). His mercy is not bound by the sacraments or by the limitations of time and space either. He is the Lord, and He is sovereign.

We serve a just God, but we also are subject to a merciful One that does not wish anyone to be damned, but to come to repentance and be saved. Because of this, he gives us tangible gifts and graces to assist us in this arduous task, for his yoke is easy and his burden light (Mt 11:28-30). "The Lord delayeth not his promise, as some imagine, but dealeth patiently for your sake, not willing that any should perish, but that all should return to penance" (2 Pt 3:9). He does not "set us up for failure," but asks that we trust Him to do for us the impossible--that is, that which is not possible for us on our own. 

If you have not done the First Friday and First Saturday devotions, think about it and give it a go. The Lord does not renege on His promises, and you will see the fruits of grace sprout on the vine in due time. He is faithful, worthy to be trusted, and desires that all--including you--be with Him forever in Heaven. He does not leave us orphans.

"Thy Damnation Comes From Thee"

"[St. Vincent Ferrer] relates that an archdeacon in Lyons gave up his charge and retreated into a desert place to do penance, and that he died the same day and hour as Saint Bernard. After his death, he appeared to his bishop and said to him, "Know, Monsignor, that at the very hour I passed away, thirty-three thousand people also died. Out of this number, Bernard and myself went up to heaven without delay, three went to purgatory, and all the others fell into Hell" 

(from the sermon "The Little Number of Those Who Are Saved" by St. Leonard of Port Maurice)

A few years ago I saw a neat couple videos to give some perspective on our place in the universe and our time on earth in relation to eternity. Sometimes these visuals can help drive home how insignificant our lives are in the grand scheme of things. And yet, despite the relatively small role we play here on earth, our choices carry with them consequences of immeasurable effect. They mean the difference between an eternity of loving peace or tormented suffering and unending regret.

I know some people of sensitive composition get shook up by the reality of the fewness of the saved in both Scripture and Catholic doctrine. But it is something we have to face as a reality, not because of the holy fear and trembling it should rightfully inspire, but because God gives us no shortage of opportunities to repent (and grace, for those who ask) and be saved because He wants us to be saved. 

I don't really think about it until we venture out in a crowd among the general public, but we truly are in a little Catholic bubble here (I'm referring to our family, and families like ours). Consider these rough statistics:

• In a crowd of 1,000 people here in America, 210 of those people would self-identify as Catholic (Pew).
• Of those 210 Catholics,  43 attend Mass weekly (CARA).
• Of those 43, 4 believe the use of contraception is wrong (versus 39 who use and/or approve of it) (LiturgyGuy/Pew) 

I could keep drilling down, but you soon run into percentages of a person. The point, however, stands--if you had to put down a wager,  it should be a given that more souls are lost than are saved. Scripture supports the view; St. Peter for one: "And if the just man shall scarcely be saved, where shall the ungodly and the sinner appear?" (1 Pt 4:18). 

"What do you think?," asks St. John Chrysostom, "How many of the inhabitants of this city may perhaps be saved? What I am about to tell you is very terrible, yet I will not conceal it from you. Out of this thickly populated city with its thousands of inhabitants not one hundred people will be saved. I even doubt whether there will be as many as that!" 

St. Jerome is even less optimistic: “Out of one hundred thousand sinners who continue in sin until death, scarcely one will be saved.” 

There is no shortage of quotes by the saints affirming the same (my friend A.G., here, for one).

But what is St. Leonard the great preacher trying to instill in us--defeat and despair at our sinfulness, and a loss of hope that salvation is even possible, no less probable? No! The words of our Lord:

"Those interior inspirations, that clear knowledge, that constant remorse of conscience, would you dare to deny them? All of these were so many aids of My grace, because I wanted to save you. I refused to give them to many others, and I gave them to you because I loved you tenderly. My son, My son, if I spoke to them as tenderly as I am speaking to you today, how many others souls return to the right path! And you... you turn your back on Me. Listen to what I am going to tell you, for these are My last words: You have cost Me My blood; if you want to be damned in spite of the blood I shed for you, do not blame Me, you have only yourself to accuse; and throughout all eternity, do not forget that if you are damned in spite of Me, you are damned because you want to be damned: 'Thy damnation comes from thee.' "

To think of souls "falling into hell like snowflakes," to use the words of Our Lady and St. Teresa of Avila, should fill us with horror and sadness at those lost, but we should also not be scandalized, for God is a just judge. "Will He be angry every day?" (Ps 7:11). "As a father has mercy on sons, the Lord has mercy on those who fear Him." (Ps 103:13). "The eye of the Lord is on those who fear Him, on those who hope in His mercy" (Ps 33:18). "The Lord taketh pleasure in them that fear him: and in them that hope in his mercy" (Ps 147:11). See a theme here?

Fr. Ripperger recently said in an interview that there were only two times he was scared as an exorcist: the first time he performed one, and during one exorcism in which he asked God to punish a particular demon "in a way he had never been punished before" and God manifested the power of his justice. "The fear wasn't in relation to the demons, since they are on a short leash. What I was looking at was the severity of God's punishment for those who don't obey him and reject him." 

"And if that doesn't strike the fear of God in you...nothing will."

Does this mean our chances of being saved are in the ballpark of becoming a pro-athlete, maybe .0001%? Becoming a professional athlete depends on a lot of things: natural ability, skill, hard work, training, ability to suffer, and luck, to name a few. 

But our ability to become a saint depends on one thing one thing only: our love of God and neighbor, and our trust in Him. It doesn't take skill, it doesn't mean having a reserved spot on the A-list. It is within the natural realm of all the baptized! God does not make himself out to be a hoity Manhatten director or judge on America's Got Talent trying to weed out the losers as fast as possible. He is trying to bring in as many people under His roof as possible--but nobody is listening! They are all just going their own way, choosing to drown rather than grab the hand of grace which is being extended to them. Is that God's fault, or ours?

To quote someone somewhere, "if we do not become a saint, it is because we did not want to become one." It's true, saying Yes to God in order to achieve that salvific vision necessitates saying "no" to other things--like the world, the flesh, and the devil and all his empty promises. And yes, you must be part of God's family (ie, baptized) to enter into that conduit channel of grace that makes salvation possible. 

But aside from that, YOU CAN BE SAVED, and our good and merciful God ACTUALLY DESIRES IT. He MAKES IT POSSIBLE in the bloodbath His Son cleanses us by. When you know love, you will know the fear of God. And when you fear God, you will rightly love Him. And when you love Him, you will never want to be apart from him as a slave to sin. For "if the Son sets you free,

you will be free indeed" (Jn 8:36)

Religion Is Not A Dirty Word

 One of the things I love most about Catholicism is the "both/and" (rather than "either/or") approach to things. Faith and works do not stand in contradiction, as it is written "Do you see that by works a man is justified, and not by faith only?" (Ja 2:24). Likewise, faith and reason "are like two wings on which the human spirit rises to the contemplation of truth" (Fides et Ratio). Great doctors of the Church like Augustine and Aquinas did not shed the philosophies of old completely but baptized them in Christ. We fast and we feast. We abstain and we imbibe. 

So, when I see Protty reductionist posturing like this, I can't help but roll my eyes a bit:

It smacks of the upcoming generations of young adults in Europe and even here in America who do not see the legal and sacramental bonds of marriage as a necessary pre-requisite for a life-long partnership with another person or for having children. In these instances, the attitude is "I don't need a peace of paper (a certificate of marriage) to prove my love for so-and-so. We know in our hearts we are committed to one another." And so on.

But the fact is, you do need vows to sustain a relationship, you do need legal recognition as marriage is a common good, and you need public witness in addition to private commitments. 

Like many anti-reason, anti-intellectual, and anti-works Protestant lines of thinking, the "It's a relationship, not a religion" is the either/or, reductionist approach to faith. It sees "religion" as a sullied thing, a dirty word, unworthy to be yoked to the Savior's redeeming cross. And it downplays St. Paul's admonition to the Thessalonians to "stand fast; and hold the traditions which you have learned, whether by word, or by our epistle" (2 Thess 2:15)

I have used this example many times, but can you imagine a body that was "all heart" or "all head" without the benefit of a skeleton? There would be no structure, no form, not ability to move. The body would puddle on the ground in a pile of skin and organs. The skeleton provides the necessary protection of organs, form for the muscles to operate in, and the ability to move about. If "relationship" is entering into the heart of God, religion is that composition of bones which protects it.

In fact, in the first part of the second epistle to the Thessalonians, Paul preaches against the "Man of Lawlessness" (2 Thess 2:1-12). What is a man of lawlessness but one who lives by his own standard, his own canon, deceiving with disorder and anarchy against the law which has been established by God (the natural law and the moral law)? Like Satan, he says, "I will not serve," I will not abide by a standard which is not my own. Like the sarabaites that St. Benedict spoke of so detestably in his Rule, "Their law is what they like to do, whatever strikes their fancy. Anything they believe in and choose, they call holy; anything they dislike, they consider forbidden." (Rule Ch 1.6-9)

Protestantism is reactionary in its founding. It reacted against the abuses within the Church by throwing out the baby with the bathwater. Christians who attempt to do the same with regards to holy religion set themselves up as holy sarabaites with no need for the law of God beyond what they interpret themselves apart from tradition. 

Of course, we should not be like "white washed tombs" that our Lord warns about, washing the outside of the cup while the inside remains filthy--the detestability of empty religion. And yes, we must work for justice for the widows and orphans, to hold the "true religion" St. James speaks about (Ja 1:27).

But to live the Christian faith--especially when doctrine is challenged and defrauded by the coming man of lawlessness and in times of persecution--necessitates holding fast to tradition (ie, the religion of our fathers) and it's holy doctrine. It becomes too easy to justify stepping on the fumie, renouncing the faith, when we reason "God will forgive me...after all, we are in relationship. He will understand." Religion is like a vow--it protects the hearts of the treatise holders, it is the rope binding us to the mast, it allows us to live with integrity when we are clouded by doubt of what is true and right--a compass in a tempest. 

Why would anyone other than a fool throw religion overboard in a storm? Holding to religion and being in relationship with Christ are not mutually exclusive things. Like a marriage contract, a legal vow, a covenant between man and wife, it protects and gives form to the essence of that bond--the love and commitment rooted in the vow to be true til death. 

No, religion is not a dirty word; don't let any well meaning evangelical with no tradition to stand on and no fathers in the faith convince you otherwise. 

"Do You Love Me Still?"

My wife and I are attending a weekend marriage retreat in a couple months; it will be the first one we've done in our twelve years of marriage, so I'm hoping it's a good opportunity to have some time together and maybe work on underlying issues we're not aware of. 

Twelve years is not a long time in the grand scheme of things, but it's long enough where you've gotten comfortable, somewhat mechanical, and--let's be honest--lazy. It's easy to take your spouse for granted, but as the years go on you assume they'll always be there, always love you, always do the dishes or change the oil. 

It's a dangerous assumption, to be quite honest. I find that the times I fall into sin in general are the times I rest my eyes rather than remaining vigilant. The times of relative peace and complacency, as when King David should have been in battle with his men but remained at the palace instead (2 Sam 11:1)

It's easy to love someone when you know they love you. But the real work of sanctification comes when the person you pledged your life to (and vice versa) actually despises you, has betrayed you, or no longer loves you. "If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you?," our Lord says (Lk 6:32). 

I'm not sure you can have any kind of authentic love without suffering. That is why the love of Christ is so complete, so full, so redeeming--because he did not fail to suffer for us. He did not stand afar off, but entered into our existence to give meaning to our suffering and to redeem us through it. 

My wife told me about a friend who was struggling to come to terms with the fact that her father has picked up a girlfriend when that friend's mother came down with Alzheimer's. It filled me with a kind of indignation towards this man that I didn't even know--"you don't DO that to a person!" How could he? But it is more common than we think--when our needs are not being met, or we make our vows conditional, we start to look for loopholes. So as not to suffer.

I was thinking about this as I was kneeling on the floor without a kneeler at Mass. The first ten minutes or so, I was caught up in praise of the Lord and thanksgiving. But as the minutes rolled on, and the pressure on my knees grew, it sobered up my spirit and I got into squirmy discomfort mode. I imagined the Lord saying,

"If I willed you to remain kneeling for an hour, a day, a week...would you still love me then? Can you love me only when it is comfortable for you?"

The Lord caused Peter pain when he asked him three times, "Simon, do you love me more than these?" Peter felt hurt, as the Lord did not appear to hear that Peter responded affirmatively, "you know that I love you, Lord." And it was true. He did love the Lord. But Jesus addended his admonition to "feed my lambs" with this passage I have gone back to on many occasions:

"I tell you the truth, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go" (Jn 21:18).

Isn't that marriage? Isn't that being a father? Doing that which you don't want to do, going where you don't always want to go? But that is how we prove our love, to show that we are not fair-weather partners. 

As Christians, Christ baptizes our suffering with meaning and purpose. There is a kind of faith in that which is needed to keep us from nihilism--that it is not wasted, not meaningless, not for naught. Christ could not have done that without the cross, and we can't either if we are honest in following him, as he says, "anyone who does not take up his cross and follow me is not worthy of me" (Mt 10:38). 

But we also operate on the faith that there is nothing that can separate us from the love of Christ (Rom 8:35-39), that Christ never stops loving us, and that his love is trustworthy. Therefore, we don't have to operate in fear and uncertainty that we cannot lean on him, that he will abandon us, because even when he appears to withdraw for a time, it is for our ultimate good; He does not abandon us.

Just as gold is proved in a furnace (Wis 3:6), our love for the Lord is refined not by what He gives us but by what we are willing to endure for Him. We can apply this to our spouses as well--they are not servants, or business partners, or conditional friends, but spouses for life. They could be taken from us tomorrow, or we could live with them for another twelve years, or twenty, or fifty. 

So, let our love be proven by what we are willing to suffer for it, and let our sanctification not come without scars. 

St. John Cassian: On Pride

 On Pride 

"Our eighth struggle is against the demon of pride, a most sinister demon, fiercer than all that have been discussed up till now. He attacks the perfect above all and seeks to destroy those who have mounted almost to the heights of holiness. Just as a deadly plague destroys not just one member of the body, but the whole of it, so pride comipts the whole soul, not just part of it. Each of the other passions that trouble the soul attacks and tries to overcome the single virtue which is opposed to it, and so it darkens and troubles the soul only partially. But the passion of pride darkens the soul completely and leads to its utter downfall. 

In order to understand more fully what is meant by this, we should look at the problem in the following way. Gluttony tries to destroy self-control; unchastity, moderation; avarice, voluntary poverty; anger, gentleness; and the other forms of vice, their corresponding virtues. But when the vice of pride has become master of our wretched soul, it acts like some harsh tyrant who has gained control of a great city, and destroys it completely, razing it to its foundations. The angel who fell from heaven because of his pride bears witness to this. He had been created by God and adorned with every virtue and all wisdom, but he did not want to ascribe this to the grace of the Lord. He ascribed it to his own nature and as a result regarded himself as equal to God. The prophet rebukes this claim when he says: 'You have said in your heart: "I will sit on a high mountain; I will place my throne upon the clouds and I will be like the Most High." Yet you are a man, and not God' (cf Isa. 14:13-14). And again, another prophet says, 'Why do you boast of your wickedness, mighty man?' and he continues in this same vein (Ps. 52:1). Since we are aware of this we should feel fear and guard our hearts with extreme care from the deadly spirit of pride. When we have attained some degree of holiness we should always repeat to ourselves the words of the Apostle: "Yet not 1, but the grace of God which was with me' (1 Cor. 15:10), as well as what was said by the Lord: 'Without Me you can do nothing' (John 15:5). We should also bear in mind what the prophet said: 'Unless the Lord builds the house, they labor in vain that build it' (Ps. 127:1), and finally: 'It does not depend on-man's will or effort, but on God's mercy' (Rom. 9:16). 

Even if someone is sedulous, serious and resolute, he cannot, so long as he is bound to flesh and blood, approach perfection except through the mercy and grace of Christ. James himself says that 'every good gift is from above' Jas. 1:17), while the Apostle Paul asks: 'What do you have which you did not receive? Now if you received it, why do you boast, as if you had not received it?' (1 Cor. 4:7). What right, then, has man to be proud as though he could achieve perfection through his own efforts ? 

The thief who received the kingdom of heaven, though not as the reward of virtue, is a true witness to the fact that salvation is ours through the grace and mercy of God. All of our holy fathers knew this and all with one accord teach that perfection in holiness can be achieved only through humility. Humility, in its turn, can be achieved only through faith, fear of God, gentleness and the shedding of all possessions. It is by means of these that we attain perfect love, through the grace and compassion of our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom be glory through all the ages. Amen." 

St. John Cassian: On Self Esteem

 On Self-Esteem 

"Our seventh struggle is against the demon of self-esteem, a multiform and subtle passion which is not readily perceived even by the person whom it tempts. The provocations of the other passions are more apparent and it is therefore somewhat easier to do battle with them, for the soul recognizes its enemy and can repulse him at once by rebutting him and by prayer. The vice of self-esteem, however, is difficult to fight against, because it has many forms and appears in all our activities - in our way of speaking, in what we say and in our silences, at work, in vigils and fasts, in prayer and reading, in stillness and long-suffering. Through all these it seeks to strike down the soldier of Christ. When it cannot seduce a man with extravagant clothes, it tries to tempt him by means of shabby ones. When it cannot flatter him with honor, it inflates him by causing him to endure what seems to be dishonor. When it cannot persuade him to feel proud of his display of eloquence, it entices him through silence into thinking he has achieved stillness. When it cannot puff him up with the thought of his luxurious table, it lures him into fasting for the sake of praise. 

In short, every task, every activity, gives this malicious demon a chance for battle. He even prompts us to imagine we are priests. I remember a certain elder who, while I was staying in Sketis, went to visit a brother in his cell. When he approached his door, he heard him speaking inside: thinking that he was studying the Scriptures, he stood outside listening, only to realize that self-esteem had driven the man out of his mind and that he was ordaining himself deacon and dismissing the catechumens. When the elder heard this, he pushed open the door and went in. The brother came to greet him, bowed as is the custom, and asked him if he had been standing at the door for a long time. The elder replied with a smile: 'I arrived a moment ago, just when you were finishing the dismissal of the catechumens/ When the brother heard this, he fell at the feet of the elder and begged him to pray for him so that he would be freed from this delusion. I have recalled this incident because I want to show to what depths of stupidity this demon can bring us. 

The person who wants to engage fully in spiritual combat and to win the crown of righteousness must try by every means to overcome this beast that assumes such varied forms. He should always keep in mind the words of David: 'The Lord has scattered the bones of those who please men' (Ps. 53:5. LXX). He should not do anything with a view to being praised by other people, but should seek God's reward only, always rejecting the thoughts of self-praise that enter his heart, and always regarding himself as nothing before God. In this way he will be freed, with God's help, from the demon of self-esteem. "

St. John Cassian: On Listlessness

On Listlessness 

"Our sixth struggle is against the demon of listlessness, who works hand in hand with the demon of dejection. This is a harsh, terrible demon, always attacking the monk, falling upon him at the sixth hour (mid-day), making him slack and fall of fear, inspiring him with hatred for his monastery, his fellow monks, for work of any kind, and even for the reading of Holy Scripture. He suggests to the monk that he should go elsewhere and that, if he does not, all his effort and time will be wasted. In addition to all this, tie produces in him at around the sixth hour a hunger such as he would not normally have after fasting for three days, or after a long journey or the heaviest labor. Then he makes him think that he will not be able to rid himself of this grievous sickness, except by sallying forth frequently to visit his brethren, ostensibly to help them and to tend them if they are unwell. When he cannot lead him astray in this manner, he puts him into the deepest sleep. In short, his attacks become stronger and more violent, and he cannot be beaten off except through prayer, through avoiding useless speech, through the study of the Holy Scriptures and through patience in the face of temptation. If he finds a monk unprotected by these weapons, he strikes him down with his arrows, making him a wayward and lazy wanderer, who roams idly from monastery to monastery, thinking only of where he can get something to eat and drink. The mind of someone affected by listlessness is filled with nothing but vain distraction. Finally he is ensnared in worldly things and gradually becomes so grievously caught up in them that he abandons the monastic life altogether. 

The Apostle, who knows that this sickness is indeed serious, and wishes to eradicate it from our soul, indicates its main causes and says: 'Now we command you, brethren, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to withdraw yourselves from every brother who lives in an unruly manner and not according to the tradition which you have received from us. For you yourselves know how you ought to imitate us: for we ourselves did not behave in an unruly manner when among you, nor did we eat any man's bread as a free gift; but we toiled strenuously night and day so that we might not be a burden to any of you: not because we do not have the right, but so as to give you an example to imitate. For even when we were with you, we gave you instructions that if anyone refuses to work he should have nothing to eat. For we hear that there are some among you who live in an unruly manner, not working at all, but simply being busybodies. Now we instruct such people and exhort them by our Lord Jesus Christ to work quietly and to eat their own bread' (2 Thess. 3:6-12). We should note how clearly the Apostle describes the causes of listlessness. Those who do not work he calls unruly, expressing a multiplicity of faults in this one word. For the  unruly man, is lacking in reverence, impulsive in speech, quick, to abuse, and so unfit for stillness. He is a slave to listlessness. Paul therefore tells us to avoid such a person, that is, to isolate ourselves from him as from a plague. With the words 'and not according to the tradition which you have received from us he makes it clear that they are arrogant and that they destroy the apostolic traditions. Again he says: 'nor did we eat any man's bread as a free gift; but we toiled strenuously night and day'. The teacher of the nations, the herald of the Gospel, who was raised to the third heaven, who says that the Lord ordained that 'those who preach the Gospel should live by the Gospel' (ICor. 9:14) - this same man works night and day 'so that we might not be a burden to any of you'. What then can be said of us, who are listless about our work and physically lazy - we who have not been entrusted with the proclamation of the Gospel or the care of the churches, but merely with looking after our own soul? Next Paul shows more clearly the harm bom of laziness by adding: 'not working at all, but simply being busybodies'; for from laziness comes inquisitiveness, and from inquisitiveness, unruliness, and from unruliness, every kind of evil. He provides a remedy, however, with the words: 'Now we instruct such people ... to work quietly and to eat their own bread ' But with even greater emphasis, he says: 'if anyone refuses to work, he should have nothing to eat'. 

The holy fathers of Egypt, who were brought up on the basis of these apostolic commandments, do not allow monks to be without work at any time, especially while they are young. They know that by persevering in work monks dispel listlessness, provide for their own sustenance and help those who are in need. They not only work for their own requirements, but from their labor they also minister to their guests, to the poor and to those in prison, believing that such charity is a holy sacrifice acceptable to God. The fathers also say that as a rule someone who works is attacked and afflicted by but a single demon, while someone who does not work is taken prisoner by a thousand evil spirits. 

It is also good to recall what Abba Moses, one of the most experienced of the fathers, told me. I had not been living long in the desert when I was troubled by listlessness. So I went to him and said: 'Yesterday I was greatly troubled and weakened by listlessness, and I was not able to free myself from it until I went to see Abba Paul' Abba Moses replied to me by saying: 'So far from freeing yourself from it, you have surrendered to it completely and become its slave. You must realize that it will attack all the more severely because you have deserted your post, unless from now on you strive to subdue it through patience, prayer and manual labor.'"  

St. John Cassian: On Dejection

 On Dejection 

"Our fifth struggle is against the demon of dejection, who obscures the soul's capacity for spiritual contemplation and keeps it from all good works. When this malicious demon seizes our soul and darkens it completely, he prevents us from praying gladly, from reading Holy Scripture with profit and perseverance, and from being gentle and compassionate towards our brethren. He instills a hatred of every kind of work and even of the monastic profession itself. Undermining all the soul's salutary resolutions, weakening its persistence and constancy, he leaves it senseless and paralyzed, tied and bound by its despairing thoughts. 

If our purpose is to fight the spiritual fight and to defeat, with God's help, the demons of malice, we should take every care to guard our heart from the demon of dejection, just as a moth devours clothing and a worm devours wood, so dejection devours a man's soul. It persuades him to shun every helpful encounter and stops him accepting advice from his true friends or giving them a courteous and peaceful reply. Seizing the entire soul, it fills it with bitterness and listlessness. Then it suggests to the soul that we should go away from other people, since they are the cause of its agitation. It does not allow the soul to understand that its sickness does not come from without, but lies hidden within, only manifesting itself when temptations attack the soul because of our ascetic efforts. 

A man can be harmed by another only through the causes of the passions which lie within himself. It is for this reason that God, the Creator of all and the Doctor of men's souls, who alone has accurate knowledge of the soul's wounds, does not tell us to forsake the company of men: He tells us to root out the causes of evil within us and to recognize that the soul's health is achieved not by a man's separating himself from his fellows, but by his living the ascetic life in the company of holy men. When we abandon our brothers for some apparently good reason, we do not eradicate the motives for dejection but merely exchange them, since the sickness which lies hidden within us will show itself again in other circumstances. 

Thus it is clear that our whole fight is against the passions within. Once these have been extirpated from our heart by the grace and help of God, we will readily be able to live not simply with other men, but even with wild beasts, job confirms this when he says: 

'And the beasts of the field shall be at peace with you' (Job 5:23). But first we must struggle with the demon of dejection who casts the soul into despair. We must drive him from our heart. It was this demon that did not allow Cain to repent after he had killed his brother, or Judas after he had betrayed his Master. The only form of dejection we should cultivate is the sorrow which goes with repentance for sin and is accompanied by hope in God. It was of this form of dejection that the Apostle said: 'Godly sorrow produces a saving repentance which is not to be repented of (2 Cor. 7:10). This 'godly sorrow' nourishes the soul through the hope engendered by repentance, and it is mingled with joy. That is why it makes us obedient and eager for every good work: accessible, humble, gentle, forbearing and patient in enduring all the suffering or tribulation God may send us. Possession of these qualities shows that a man enjoys the fruits of the Holy Spirit: love, joy, peace, long-suffering, goodness, faith, self-control (cf. Gal. 5:11). But from the other kind of dejection we come to know the fruits of the evil spirit: listlessness, impatience, anger, hatred, contentiousness, despair, sluggishness in praying. So we should shun this second form of dejection as we would unchastity, avarice, anger and the rest of the passions. It can be healed by prayer, hope in God, meditation on Holy Scripture, and by living with godly people. "

St. John Cassian: On Anger

 On Anger 

"'Do not let the sun go down upon your anger: and do not make room for the devil' (Eph. 4: 26-27), by which he means: 'Do not make Christ, the Sun of righteousness, set in your hearts by angering him through your assent to evil thoughts, thereby allowing the devil to find room in you because of Christ's departure.' God has spoken of this Sun in the words of His prophet: 'But upon you that fear My name shall the Sun of righteousness arise with healing in His wings' (Mai. 4:2). If we take Paul's saying literally, it does not permit us to keep our anger even until sunset. What then shall we say about those who, because of the harshness and fury of their impassioned state, not only maintain their anger until the setting of this day's sun, but prolong it for many days? Or about others who do not express their anger, but keep silent and increase the poison of their rancor to their own destraction? They are unaware that we must avoid anger not only in what we do but also in our thoughts: otherwise our intellect will be darkened by our rancor, cut off from the light of spiritual knowledge and discrimination, and deprived of the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. 

It is for this reason that the Lord commands us to leave our offering before the altar and be reconciled with our brother (cf Matt, s: 23-24), since our offering will not be acceptable so long as anger and rancor are bottled up within us. The Apostle teaches us the same thing when he tells us to 'pray without ceasing' (1 Thess. 5:17), and to 'pray every where, lifting up holy hands without anger and without quarrelling' (1 Tim. 2:8). We are thus left with the choice either of never praying, and so of disobeying the Apostle's commandment, or of trying earnestly to fulfill his commandment by praying without anger or rancor. 

We are often indifferent to our brethren who are distressed or upset, on the grounds that they are in this state through no fault of ours. The Doctor of souls, however, wishing to root out the soul's excuses from the heart, tells us to leave our gift and to be reconciled not only if we happen to be upset by our brother, but also if he is upset by us, whether justly or unjustly: only when we have healed the breach through our apology should we offer our gift. 

We may find the same teaching in the Old Testament as well. As though in complete agreement with the Gospels, it says: 'Do not hate your brother in your heart' (Lev. 19:17); and: "The way of the rancorous leads to death' (Prov. 12: 28. LXX). These passages, then, not only forbid anger in what we do but also angry thought. If therefore we are to follow the divine laws, we must struggle with all our strength against the demon of anger and against the sickness which lies hidden within us. When we are angry with others we should not seek solitude on the grounds that there, at least, no one will provoke us to anger, and that in solitude the virtue of long-suffering can easily be acquired. Our desire to leave our brethren is because of our pride, and because we do not wish to blame ourselves and ascribe to our own laxity the cause of our unniliness. So long as we assign the causes for our weaknesses to others, we cannot attain perfection in long- suffering. 

Self -reform and peace are not achieved through the patience which others show us, but through our own long- suffering towards our neighbor. When we try to escape the struggle for long-suffering by retreating into solitude, those unhealed passions we take there with us are merely hidden, not erased: for unless our passions are first purged, solitude and withdrawal from the world not only foster them but also keep them concealed, no longer allowing us to perceive what passion it is that enslaves us. On the contrary, they impose on us an illusion of virtue and persuade us to believe that we have achieved long-suffering and humility, because there is no one present to provoke and test us. But as soon as something happens which does arouse and challenge us, our hidden and previously unnoticed passions immediately break out like uncontrolled horses that have long been kept unexercised and idle, dragging their driver all the more violently and wildly to destruction. Our passions grow fiercer when left idle through lack of contact with other people. Even that shadow of patience and long-suffering which we thought we possessed while we mixed with our brethren is lost in our isolation through not being exercised. Poisonous creatures that live quietly in their lairs in the desert display their fury only when they detect someone approaching, and likewise passion-filled men, who live quietly not because of their virtuous disposition but because of their solitude, spit forth their venom whenever someone approaches and provokes them. This is why those seeking perfect gentleness must make every effort to avoid anger not only towards men, but also towards animals and even inanimate objects. 

I can remember how, when I lived in the desert, I became angry with the rushes because they were either too thick or too thin; or with a piece of wood, when I wished to cut it quickly and could not; or with a flint, when I was in a hurry to light a fire and the spark would not come. So all-embracing was my anger that it was aroused even against inanimate objects. If then we wish to receive the Lord's blessing we should restrain not only the outward expression of anger, but also angry thoughts. More beneficial than controlling our tongue m a moment of anger and refraining from angry words is purifying our heartfrom rancor and not harboring mahcious thoughts against our brethren. The Gospel teaches us to cut off the roots of our sins and not merely their fruits. When we have dug the root of anger out of our heart, we will no longer act with hatred or envy. 'Whoever hates his brother is a murderer' ( 1 John 3:15), for he kills him with the hatred in his mind. The blood of a man who has been slain by the sword can be seen by men, but blood shed by the hatred in the mind is seen by God, who rewards each man with punishment or a crown not only for his acts but for his thoughts and intentions as well. As God Himself says through the Prophet: 'Behold, I am coming to reward them according to their actions and their thoughts' (cf Ecclus. 35:19); and the Apostle says: 'And their thoughts accuse or else excuse them in the day when God shall judge the secrets of men' (Rom. 2:15-16). The Lord Himself teaches us to put aside all anger when He says: 'Whoever is angry with his brother shall be in danger of judgment' (Matt. 5:22). This is the text of the best manuscripts; for it is clear from the purpose of Scripture in this context that the words 'without a cause' were added later. The Lord's intention is that we should remove the root of anger, its spark, so to speak, in whatever way we can, and not keep even a single pretext for anger in our hearts. Otherwise we will be stirred to anger initially for what appears to be a good reason and then find that our mcensive power is totally out of control. 

The final cure for this sickness is to realize that we must not become angry for any reason whatsoever, whether just or unjust. When the demon of anger has darkened our mind, we are left with neither the light of discrimination, nor the assurance of true judgment, nor the guidance of righteousness, and our soul cannot become the temple of the Holy Spirit. Finally, we should always bear in mind our ignorance of the time of our death, keeping ourselves from anger and recognizing that neither self-restraint nor the renunciation of all material things, nor fasting and vigils, are of any benefit if we are found guilty at the last judgment because we are the slaves of anger and hatred."

St John Cassian: On Avarice

 On Avarice

"Our third struggle is against the demon of avarice, a demon clearly foreign to our nature, who only gains entry into a monk because he is lacking in faith. The other passions, such as anger and desire, seem to be occasioned by the body and in some sense implanted in us at birth. Hence they are conquered only after a long time. The sickness of avarice, on the contrary, can with diligence and attention be cut off more readily, because ft enters from outside. If neglected, however, it becomes even harder to get rid of and more destructive than the other passions, for according to the Apostle it is 'the root of all evil' (1 Tim. 6:10).

Let us look at it in this fashion. Movement occurs in the sexual organs not only of young children who cannot yet distinguish between good and evil, but also of the smallest infants still at their mother's breast. The latter, although quite ignorant of sensual pleasure, nevertheless manifest such natural movements in the flesh. Similarly, the incensive power exists in infants, as we can see when they are roused against anyone hurting them. I say this not to accuse nature of being the cause of sin - heaven forbid! - but to show that the incensive power and desire, even if implanted in man by the Creator for a good purpose, appear to change through neglect from being natural in the body into something that is unnatural. Movement in the sexual organs was given to us by the Creator for procreation and the continuation of the species, not for unchastity; while incensive power was planted in us for our salvation, so that we could manifest it against wickedness, but not so that we could act like wild beasts towards our fellow men. Even if we make bad use of these passions, nature itself is not therefore sinful, nor should we blame the Creator. A man who gives someone a knife for some necessary and useful purpose is not to blame if that person uses it to commit murder.

This has been said to make it clear that avarice is a passion deriving, not from our nature, but solely from an evil and perverted use of our free will. When this sickness finds the soul lukewarm and lacking in faith at the start of the ascetic path, it suggests to us various apparently justifiable and sensible reasons for keeping back something of what we possess. It conjures up in a monk's mind a picture of a lengthy old age and bodily illness; and it persuades him that the necessities of life provided by the monastery are insufficient to sustain a healthy man, much less an ill one; that in the monastery the sick, instead of receiving proper attention, are hardly cared for at all; and that unless he has some money tucked away, he will die a miserable death. Finally, it convinces him that he will not be able to remain long in the monastery because of the load of his work and the strictness of the abbot. When with thoughts like these it has seduced his mind with the idea of concealing any sum, however trifling, it persuades him to learn, unknown to the abbot, some handicraft through which he can increase his cherished hoardings. Then it deceives the wretched monk with secret expectations, making him imagine what he will earn from his handicraft, and the comfort and security which will result from it. Now completely given over to the thought of gain, he notices none of the evil passions which attack him: his raging fury when he happens to sustain a loss, his gloom and dejection when he falls short of the gain he hoped for. Just as for other people the belly is a god, so for him is money. That is why the Apostle, knowing this, calls avarice not only 'the root of all evil' but 'idolatry' as well (Col. 3:5).

How is it that this sickness can so pervert a man that he ends up as an idolater? It is because he now fixes his intellect on the love, not of God, but of the images of men stamped on gold. A monk darkened by such thoughts and launched on the downward path can no longer be obedient. He is irritable and resentful, and grumbles about every task. He answers back and, having lost his sense of respect, behaves like a stubborn, uncontrollable horse. He is not satisfied with the day's ration of food and complains that he cannot put up with such conditions for ever. Neither God's presence, he says, nor the possibility of his own salvation is confined to the monastery; and, he concludes, he will perish if he does not leave it. He is so excited and encouraged in these perverse thoughts by his secret hoardings that he even plans to quit the monastery. Then he replies proudly and harshly no matter what he is told to do, and pays no heed if he sees something in the monastery that needs to be set right, considering himself a stranger and outsider and finding fault with all that takes place. Then he seeks excuses for being angry or injured, so that he will not appear to be leaving the monastery frivolously and without cause. He does not even shrink from trying through gossip and idle talk to seduce someone else into leaving with him, wishing to have an accomplice in his sinful action.

Because the avaricious monk is so fired with desire for private wealth he will never be able to live at peace in a monastery or under a rule. When like a wolf the demon has snatched him from the fold and separated him from the Hock, he makes ready to devour him; he sets-him to work day and night in his cell on the very tasks which he complained of doing at fixed times in the monastery. But the demon does not allow him to keep the regular prayers or norms of fasting or orders of vigil. Having bound him fast in the madness of avarice, he persuades him to devote all his effort to his handicraft.

There are three forms of this sickness, all of which are equally condemned by the Holy Scriptures and the teaching of the Fathers. The first induces those who were poor to acquire and save the goods they lacked in the world. The second compels those who have renounced worldly goods by offering them to God, to have regrets and to seek after them again. A third infects a monk from the start with lack of faith and ardor, so preventing his complete detachment from worldly things, producing in him a fear of poverty and distrust in God's providence and leading him tobreak the promises he made when he renounced the world.

Examples of these three forms of avarice are, as I have said, condemned in Holy Scripture. Gehazi wanted to acquire property which he did not previously possess, and therefore never received the prophetic grace which his teacher had wished to leave him in the place of an inheritance. Because of the prophet's curse he inherited incurable leprosy instead of a blessing (cf. 2 Kgs. 5:27). And Judas, who wished to acquire money which he had previously abandoned on following Christ, not only lapsed so far as to betray the Master and lose his place in the circle of the apostles; he also put an end to his life in the flesh through a violent death (cf. Matt. 27:5). Thirdly, Ananias and Sapphira were condemned to death by the Apostle's word when they kept back something of what they had acquired (cf. Acts 5:1-10). Again, in Deuteronomy Moses is indirectly exhorting those who promise to renounce the world, and who then retain their earthly possessions because of the fear that comes from lack of faith, when he says: 'What man is there that is fearful and faint-hearted? He shall not go out to do battle; let him return to his house, lest his brethren's heart faint as well as his heart' (cf. Deut. 20:8). Could anything be clearer or more certain than this testimony? Should not we who have left the world learn from these examples to renounce it completely and in this state go forth to do battle? We should not turn others from the perfection taught in the Gospels and make them cowardly because of our own hesitant and feeble start.

Some, impelled by their own deceit and avarice, distort the meaning of the scriptural statement, 'It is more blessed to give than to receive' (Acts 20:35). They do the same with the Lord's words when He says, 'If you want to be perfect, go and sell all you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come and follow Me' (Matt. 19:21). They judge that it is more blessed to have control over one's personal wealth, and to give from this to those in need, than to possess nothing at all. They should know, however, that they have not yet renounced the world or achieved monastic perfection so long as they are ashamed to accept for Christ's sake the poverty of the Apostle and to provide for themselves and the needy through the labor of their hands (cf. Acts 20:34); for only in this way will they fulfill the .monastic profession and be glorified with the Apostle. Having distributed their former wealth, let them fight the good fight with Paul 'in hunger and thirst . . . in cold and nakedness' (2 Cor. 11:27). Had the Apostle thought that the possession of one's former wealth was more necessary for perfection, he would not have despised his official status as a Roman citizen (cf. Acts 22:25). Nor would those in Jerusalem have sold their houses and fields and given the money they got from them to the apostles (cf. Acts 4: 34-35), had they felt that the apostles considered it more blessed to live off one's own possessions than from one's labor and the offerings of the Gentiles.

The Apostle gives us a clear lesson in this matter when he writes to the Romans in the passage beginning, 'But now I go to Jerusalem to minister to the saints', and ending: 'They were pleased to do it, and indeed they are in debt to them' (Rom. 15:25-27). He himself was often in chains, in prison or on fatiguing travel, and so was usually prevented from providing for himself with his own hands. He tells us that he accepted the necessities of life from the brethren who came to him from Macedonia (cf. 2 Cor. 11:9); and writing to the Philippians he says: 'Now you Philippians know also that . . . when I departed from Macedonia no church except you helped me with gifts of money. For even in Thessalonica you sent me help, not once but twice' (Phil. 4:15-16). Are, then, the avaricious right and are these men more blessed than the Apostle himself, because they satisfied his wants from their own resources? Surely no one would be so foolish as to say this.

If we want to follow the gospel commandment and the practice of the whole Church as it was founded initially upon the apostles, we should not follow our own notions or give wrong meanings to things rightly said. We must discard faint-hearted, faithless opinion and recover the strictness of the Gospel; In this way we shall be able to follow also in the footsteps of the Fathers, adhering to the discipline of the cenobitic life and truly renouncing this world. It is good here to recall the words of St Basil, Bishop of Caesarea in Cappadocia. He is reported once to have said to a senator, who had renounced the world in a half-hearted manner and was keeping back some of his personal fortune: 'You have lost the senator and failed to make a monk.' We should therefore make every effort to cut out from our souls this root of all evils, avarice, in the certain knowledge that if the root remains the branches will sprout freely.

This uprooting is difficult to achieve unless we are living in a monastery, for in a monastery we cease to worry about even our most basic needs. With the fate of Ananias and Sapphira in mind, we should shudder at the thought of keeping to ourselves anything of our former possessions. Similarly, frightened by the example of Gehazi who was afflicted with incurable leprosy because of his avarice, let us guard against piling up money which we did not have while in the world. Finally, recalling Judas' death by hanging, let us beware of acquiring again any of the things which we have already renounced. In all this we should remember how uncertain is the hour of our death, so that our Lord does not come unexpectedly and, finding our conscience soiled with avarice, say to us what God says to the rich man in the Gospel: 'You fool, this night your soul will be required of you: who then will be the owner of what you have stored up?' (Luke 12: 20)."