Your Secrets Will Eat You Alive

 

For all my many faults and sinfulness, one thing I hope I cannot be accused of is being dishonest. This is as much an issue of pragmatism for me as it is morality--I simply cannot keep a secret. Part of that is due to having a horrible short-term memory, and not being able to remember things; to compensate, I respond to emails and texts right away lest I forget, and have to rely on my wife to let me know events of even a day or two ago. I would be horrible on the stand during a trial. "Where were on the night of June 12, yesterday?" I don't remember! Ha.

Knowing this about myself, however, I have always tried to tell the truth, even from a young age. I still remember when I was caught in a white lie, when I was around eleven years old and my parents asked me if I was on the phone with a girl and I told them I wasn't when I was. I was so eaten up by it I probably vowed from that point on just to always tell the truth about things to make my life not easier, but simpler.

A few years before my wife and I met, she was in a relationship with a compulsive liar. He would lie about even the most trivial of things, in a pathological fashion. I also had a friend years ago who was also involved with a pathological liar. The thought of having to keep that complex web of stories and scenarios straight wearies me just thinking about it.

I think it was on my second date with my now-wife that I confessed a secret to her--not one of a moral nature, but deeply embarrassing (to me). It was much too forward for a second date, but in my mind I discerned that she was completely trustworthy (my instincts were right on that one) and I wanted her to know that I had no intentions of keeping things from her should our relationship progress more seriously. I think she was both amused and touched. 

While I strive to be a trustworthy person as a matter of personal integrity, and it affects me deeply in the heart when I feel I fall short of that or even remotely betray trust, I also hold that regard for those I meet. 

This weekend we were at a social function, and a man whom we had been acquainted with a few years ago was there. I recounted this initial encounter in my post You Are Being Used from a couple years ago:

I'll never forget my wife being approached by a friendly young woman our age at our former parish who wanted to "connect." We were new to the parish and were happy to make some friends; that is, until we realized she was connecting with us as part of her network to sell essential oils. 

The same thing happened to us when a man from my bible study invited my wife and I out to coffee with him and his wife. So friendly, took an interest in us, asked us questions about our faith and family. After the second meeting (which we had gotten a baby sitter for, and driven half an hour to meet them), I surmised from the vagueness of his talk about his "mentor" and "opportunities for growth" and "financial security," that something was off. It turned out to be an Amway pyramid-scheme pitch. I felt completely used, and foolish. 

I remembered the man, and instantly felt unease in my gut. He was very pleasant and smiled a lot, but I still avoided him remembering this encounter. I don't even know if it even registered for him; perhaps he did not feel like he did anything wrong, that his motivations were pure or whatever. But I imagine if our radars did not go off and we dropped a few grand on this "opportunity" and were left holding the bag, if I would have felt even more betrayed. Thankfully, I listen to my gut and intuition when things seem 'off.' To be trite, I can forgive such things, but that doesn't mean you forget. 

With the news of Fr. Jackson's sentencing, and in the wake of other clerical predators like McCarrick et al, I'm reminded again of the awful spectre of skeletons in one's closet. I could never run for public office given my past (I'd be raked over the coals by the press), but even for those who seem squeaky-clean, there is always a part of us we keep tucked away from sight--not only the embarrassing, but the immoral. This is why the sacrament of Confession is so healing and psychologically healthy--we were not meant to live double lives. 

Even the noble, though, fall and can also be accused of duplicity to boot. Think of King David--before Nathan called him out for his sinful transgressions against Uriah, was he striding around the palace as if he did nothing wrong? Was he unaware, and/or rationalized it? Would he have kept his sins hidden as long as possible before the Lord sent the prophet to accuse him?

To a degree, we all keep some secrets. We cannot and should not be a completely open book to all those we meet. But I don't know how people walk around and go about their lives with such heinous sins hidden and still be able to function. It is almost a kind of cognitive dissonance and pathology.

Even when some religiously noble and high ranking folks fall, they think, "This can't get out--what will people think? The reputation of the [family/order/party] will be compromised." There are so few who are honest enough to confess and apologize publically, and the temptation to stuff things away out of view is so strong. 

We watched a French film (didn't finish it, but got about halfway through) called Les Innocents (2016), about a group of cloistered nuns who were raped by Soviet soldiers in Poland during World War II and subsequently found themselves pregnant. They were not culpable for this crime, obviously, but whether out of shame or pragmatism, the Mother Superior ordered the event be kept a secret, that the sisters go on with their daily lives, and even stories made up when the babies were given up. While not judging the circumstances of her decision, the weight of this secret takes its toll on the community, leading to a loss of faith, suicide, and other unfortunate outcomes. The trauma is bad enough from such an egregious act, but the weight of keeping it hidden can be psychologically even heavier. 

If you demand honesty from others, you must live honestly yourself. We don't have to walk around without a filter, telling everyone what we think of them even when it is hurtful. The truth doesn't always have to delivered cold and brash; it must be tempered with the herbs and garnish of charity. 

And one must have a degree of sensitivity and incisive intuition, to pay attention to the gut when 'bad man' signals go off. Even that, however, is no guarantee. The fact that so many degenerate predators could play the act and charismatically gain the trust of so many despite their double lives speaks to how intricately pathological liars and men of duplicity will keep their skeletons hidden, and the lengths to which they will go to conceal sins. 

The only antidote I can see, as much as I can see, is to prioritize honesty and trustworthiness, even at the expense of reputation or stature. Act like an oncology surgeon with your sins, lest they mestasise, turning them over to the Lord and making restitution publically. Better, though, is as St. Peter says to keep, "a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander. For it is better, if it is God’s will, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil" (1 Pt 3:16-17).

Your secrets will eat you alive if you are not careful. Even though man does not see, God sees all things, and all things hidden will be brought into the light, if not in this world, in the next (Lk 8:17). Walk in the light, as children of light, and shun the works of darkness (Eph 5:8)