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Some of you who follow me on Facebook know that I just lost a beloved pet, Daniel, our rectory cat. Losing a pet is not to be equated with losing a spouse, sibling, or friend, but it remains a painful loss. Part of the reason for this, I am convinced, is that we cannot communicate with animals as we do with one another. We cannot know what they are experiencing “inside” and so cannot reassure them or be reassured by them that they are still well despite the suffering that dying brings. We have to make decisions for them without really knowing much about what they are experiencing. At any rate, Daniel’s journey and sufferings are over. Mine will linger a little longer, but I am well and content that we did what we could for him.

Permit me, then, to republish a prior article in today’s post. It is about St. Thomas Aquinas’ remedy for sin. I have newer pieces in the hopper but it will take me a day or two to get back up to speed. Meanwhile, I pray that you will find this article from my “best of” file helpful in your own sufferings.

One doesn’t usually go to the St. Thomas Aquinas’ Summa Theologica for advice on emotional matters. Yet in this post we shall indeed go there to seek advice on sorrow and consider some of St. Thomas’ remedies for it. (His advice is contained primarily in the Prima Secundae questions 35 – 37.)

St. Thomas follows some of the Eastern fathers in naming four kinds of sorrow (cf I IIae 35:8): anxiety, torpor, pity, and envy. Let’s look at each before examining some of the remedies he suggests:

1. Anxiety – This is a kind of sorrow that emerges when the mind is so weighed down by something that escape seem impossible. St. Thomas’ definition is likely rooted in the Latin word angustia, which is a narrow pass or straight. And thus anxiety tends to arise when we experience stress over a situation and find no room to maneuver, no way out. Anxiety tends to pertain to the future, in contrast with pain, which generally pertains to the present. With pain, one can suffer about a situation in the moment yet recognize that it will pass. Anxiety arises when we sense no definitive end to the painful situation.

St. Thomas calls anxiety a form of sadness. In modern culture we often link anxiety and depression. This is because anxiety, as a sorrow, weighs us down. And just as joy and hope tend to expand and lighten, the sorrow of anxiety tends to crush and turn us inward. It makes us feel limited, hemmed in, confined, and heavily weighed down.

Someone once said that depression is anger turned inward. This makes sense because anger results from fear and anxiety, and anger that cannot be expressed or managed becomes like a heavy weight or depression.

2. Torpor – This word is not used very frequently today. Literally, it refers to slowness of movement. When one is sorrowful or depressed, one is less motivated to move. St. Thomas says, “If, however, the mind be weighed down so much, even the limbs become motionless, which belongs to ‘torpor’” (I IIae 35.8). Even ordinary conversation with others, which is a kind of movement, can seem difficult. The sorrow we call torpor slows us down and makes us feel rundown and sluggish.

Inactivity tends to build. The less motivated we feel, the less we move; the less we move, the less motivated we feel. It’s a kind of downward spiral.

This is why those who are experiencing depression are often encouraged to find friends that will make them move, make them go places—even if they don’t feel like it. This helps to stave off the downward spiral that torpor can cause.

The second two types of sorrow (pity and envy) relate more to our experience of other people’s circumstances.

3. Pity – This is the sorrow that we feel for the evil or misfortune endured by another person. But it is deeper than mere regret or perturbation. Pity is experiencing the misfortune of another as though it were our own.

Pity, therefore, implies a felt relationship. Perhaps it involves a close friend or family member, but it can also be the felt relationship of common humanity with the one who suffers.

Of itself, pity is a proper and good sorrow born out of love. And yet, like any common human emotion or passion, it can be tainted by sinfulness. For example, sometimes pity results more from egotistical needs, wherein one develops a sort of condescending attitude, needing to see others as beneath him or worse off than he is.

And thus what masquerades as pity is too easily merely the drive to be in a superior position with respect to another person. Patronizing attitudes are a misguided form of pity such that we do for people what they should rightfully do for themselves, thus robbing them of their dignity and their call to live responsible lives.

Hence pity, like any sorrow, has to be moderated and helped by reason and by the understanding that it is not always possible or even helpful to assist everyone in every circumstance simply because we feel sorrow for their condition. Sometimes the best we can do is to listen to them and pray for them.

Properly understood, pity is a very beautiful emotion rooted in love for others.

4. Envy – On the other hand, envy is a very dark sorrow and is rooted in sin. I have written more extensively on envy here: Envy Is a Diabolical Sin. For this reflection, however, I will just summarize by saying that envy is a form of sorrow or anger at the excellence of another person, because I take it as lessening my own.

Envy is a particularly dark sin because it seeks to destroy the goodness in others rather than to celebrate it. If I am jealous of you, you have something I want. But when I am envious of you, I seek to destroy that in you which is good. That is why St. Augustine called envy the diabolical sin.

While discussing these four types of sorrow, St. Thomas also discusses some ways to overcome them. We will look at remedies for all four of them. Because envy stands apart from the other sorrows due to its sinful quality, the remedies for it are quite different. The remedies for envy are the gifts of joy and zeal. When someone else possesses goodness or excellence, the proper response is to rejoice with them and for them, as members of one body. When one member is praised, all members are praised; when one member is blessed, all members are blessed. This is rational and reasonable; we should seek from God the gift of joy at the goodness or excellence of another person. We should also seek from God the virtue of zeal, wherein we seek to imitate, where possible, the goodness or excellence we observe in others.

Remedies – As for the other forms of sorrow (anxiety, torpor, and pity), St. Thomas advises some of the following remedies:

1. Weeping – St. Thomas makes the very interesting observation that where there is laughter and smiling there is increased joy. But weeping, rather than increasing sorrow, actually diminishes it. How is this? He says, “First, because a hurtful thing hurts yet more if we keep it shut up, because the soul is more intent on it: whereas if it be allowed to escape, the soul’s intention is dispersed as it were on outward things, so that the inward sorrow is lessened” (I IIae 38.2). Thus tears are the soul’s way to exhale sorrow. For when we weep, we release sorrow. Tears have a way of flushing it from our system.

It is a rather beautiful and freeing insight, especially for some of us who were raised with more stoic sensibilities. Many of us, especially men, were told not to cry, not to show our emotions. But of course such an approach seldom works, for the more we shut up our sorrow, the more the mind ruminates on it. Better to weep and let it run out through our tears.

2. Sharing our sorrows with friends – Scripture says, Woe to the solitary man, for if he should fall, he has no one to lift him up (Eccl 4:10-11). Aristotle also said, “A sorrow shared is a sorrow halved.”

The danger to avoid in sorrow is turning in on ourselves. We often need the perspective of others. And even if they don’t have many answers to give us, simply talking to them about our sorrow is itself a form of release. St. Thomas also adds, when a man’s friends condole with him, he sees that he is loved by them, and this affords him pleasure… [and] every pleasure assuages sorrow (Ibid).

3. Contemplating the truth – The word philosophy literally means “the love of wisdom,” and for those schooled in it, it can provide great consolation. St. Thomas says, the greatest of all pleasures consists in the contemplation of truth. Now every pleasure assuages pain … hence the contemplation of truth assuages pain or sorrow, and the more so, the more perfectly one is a lover of wisdom (I IIae 38.4).

This is even more so with the contemplation of sacred truth, wherein we are reminded of our final glory and happiness if we persevere. We are given perspective and reminded of the passing quality of sorrow in this life, that “trouble don’t last always,” and that the sufferings of this world cannot compare with the glory that is to be revealed.

4. Pleasure – We have already seen that St. Thomas says, “pleasure assuages pain.” If one is physically tired, then sleep is a solution. If one is in pain or sorrow, pleasure is also helpful remedy.

In sudden and heavy loss or sorrow, some period of quiet convalescence maybe called for. But there comes a time when one must go forth and savor the better things in life once again.

The Book of Psalms says, When sorrow was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul (Ps 94:19). In the midst of pain, God will often send consoling pleasures, which should be appreciated and savored (with proper moderation, of course).

As a priest, I sometimes minister to those who have suddenly lost a spouse or other beloved family member. In these situations, I find that some of those who mourn feel almost guilty about venturing out into the world again to enjoy the better things: laughter, good company, entertainment, etc. But for the survivors to cease living does little to honor those who died. There comes a time, after a suitable period of mourning, when one must go forth and reclaim the joy of life again.

5. A warm bath and a nap – This is a rather charming remedy recommended by St. Thomas. And it is actually very good advice, for we are not simply soul; we are also body. And our body and soul interact with and influence each other. Sometimes if the soul is vexed, caring for the body will bring soothing to both body and soul. St. Thomas says, Sorrow, by reason of its specific nature, is repugnant to the vital movement of the body; and consequently whatever restores the bodily nature to its due state of vital movement, is opposed to sorrow and assuages it (I IIae 38.5).

We live in a culture that tends to overindulge the body. And yet to do so is not really to care for it. Frankly, some of our overindulgence actually stress the body, which thereby vexes the soul.

Surely what St. Thomas has in mind here is the proper care of the body. Whether that means a warm bath, a leisurely walk, or a nap, the soothing care of the body can help to alleviate sorrow.

Sorrow! It does find us. But in the midst of it, there are still some gifts. Learning these simple truths can be a gift:  that tears are the soul’s way to exhale, that we ought to reach out and stay in communion with others who can help us, that meditating on eternal truth is important, and that proper soothing care of ourselves has its place.

Sorrow also reminds us that this world is not our home, that we ought to set our gaze on the place where joy shall never end, even as we must journey through what is often a “valley of tears.” And finally, the Book of Revelation reminds us to regard what the Lord will do for those who die in Him:

He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning, crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away (Rev 21:4).

Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!

The Catechism of the Catholic Church states the following regarding moral acts:

The object, the intention, and the circumstances make up the “sources,” or constitutive elements, of the morality of human acts (CCC # 1750).

Note, therefore, that in assessing a particular moral act we must look not only to what is done, but also to the circumstances under which it is done, and to the intention of the one doing it.

For example, to steal is wrong. However, one’s culpability can be lessened if one is starving and takes food from another person who has more than enough. This does not make stealing good or virtuous, but it can lessen the blame, at times reducing it to a minimum. Acting out of grave fear (such as death), or acting when under great duress, pressure, or strong influence of the passions and the force of evil may, at times, lessen guilt. Further, invincible ignorance, error, or confusion about the facts of a situation or how the moral law applies may, at times, lessen guilt.

Another example would be failing to attend Mass on Sunday or a Holy Day of Obligation. Of itself, such an omission is taught to be a grave sin (see Catechism # 2181). This is so because of the gifts one misses (e.g., Holy Communion and instruction in the Word of God), the duty that is set aside (e.g., the obligation to praise and thank God), and the failure to fulfill the commandment to keep holy the Sabbath. However, three feet of snow, or serious illness, or the care of the sick, can be circumstances that would reduce guilt or the obligation to attend significantly if not entirely. Further, given the ignorance of many due to poor catechesis and the hindrances of secular culture (which often requires work and other activities), a person’s guilt may be less than mortal in missing Mass. Thus, while failing to attend Mass without a serious reason remains a grave sin, it does not necessarily follow that everyone who missed Mass this past Sunday is in a state of mortal sin.

So in assessing a moral act, as the Catechism and long-standing Catholic teaching assert, we cannot as a general rule look merely to what is done, but must also assess, in so far as possible, the intention of the one doing it, and the circumstances under which it was done.

However, as the Catechism states quite clearly, as does the moral tradition of the Church:

It is an error to judge the morality of human acts by considering only the intention that inspires them or the circumstances (environment, social pressure, duress, or emergency, etc.) which supply their context. There are acts which, in and of themselves, independently of circumstances and intentions, are always gravely illicit by reason of their object; such as blasphemy and perjury, murder and adultery. One may not do evil so that good may result from it (CCC # 1756).

It is very common today for moral assessments to focus merely on the intentions and feelings of the person involved. What is actually being done seems less significant; as long as a person “means well” or feels that the act is right then it is OK for them and we should make no further moral discernment.

But as the Catechism states, such criteria are not enough. Moral uprightness consists in doing well, not just meaning well, or feeling good about one’s actions. Intentionality and circumstances are not wholly insignificant, especially when it comes to assigning a level of culpability, but they cannot be the only determining factors in assessing the morality of an act. We must look at the act itself as the primary consideration in assessing its morality. We cannot simply say that something is good, it must actually be good.

Let me provide a few examples in which the actual, concrete act is essential and, in a way, overrules whatever feelings or intentions we have:

1. Intentions alone do not turn locks, keys do. Every day I move between the buildings that make up our parish complex. Going in and out of buildings requires the use of keys. Now many of these keys look alike. As I approach the Church door, I take out my keys and put what I think is the Church key into the lock. I do this with best of intentions. I think that I am doing what is right. I feel that what I am doing is right. But if I actually put the rectory key into the Church lock, despite my good intentions, despite the fact that I think and feel that I am doing what was right, the lock won’t turn.

All the good intentions, thoughts, and feelings in the world will not make that lock turn. I actually have to do what is right to get the proper result. The right key has to go in the right lock to get the right result. What I actually do is the determining factor. Feelings, thoughts, and intentions cannot win the day.

2. Good intentions alone do not get me there, following the directions does. To get to your house you tell me to turn right on Park Ave., but instead I turn left. I may think that you said left. I may sense or feel that I’m going in the proper direction. I may intend to be doing what is right. But none of that is going to change the fact that I’m heading in the wrong direction and won’t get to your house until I actually do what is right.
3. Accidents happen, but there’s still a mess. There is a can of paint on the floor in the hallway. I kick the can of paint over and paint spills all over the floor. Whether I did so intentionally or not does not change the fact that there’s now paint all over the floor that needs to be cleaned up. What I intended is important in determining how blameworthy I am. If my act was purely accidental (perhaps I was unaware that the hallway was being painted and could not see the can as I rounded the corner) then my culpability is probably very low if not nonexistent. But if I knew that there was painting going on and failed to exercise proper caution, then I kicked the can of paint over through carelessness and so bear some blame. Now suppose that I saw the can of paint and (perhaps out of anger) deliberately kicked it over; in this case my blame is full.

So intentions, knowledge, and feelings are important in assessing a person’s culpability. But these things cannot render a bad thing good. Regardless of my intentions, thoughts, or feelings, there is still a big mess to clean up. The objective truth is that there is paint all over the floor. Simply saying that I had good intentions or didn’t know any better doesn’t make the mess go away.

Rectitude is tied to reality. Too many people today use flawed or incomplete reasoning in assessing the morality of acts. While good intentions, how a person feels about his actions, and what he thinks or knows, can all affect culpability, they cannot make a bad thing good. They cannot make an evil act upright. They cannot remove the harm or negative result of an incorrect, bad, or evil act: there is still paint to clean up; there is still a U-turn to be made; there is still a proper key to find. Reality sets in.

So, there is a lot of flawed moral reasoning today around the issue of intentionality, feelings, and thoughts. Important though these factors are, they cannot undo reality. They cannot alone and apart from the act itself form the basis for judging its uprightness or wrongness.

Such factors are important, though, in dealing with people who have sinned, struggle with sin, or are in sinful situations. Assisting a person in extricating himself from such situations is an essential act of mercy. Condemnations that look only to the sinful act without regard for the circumstances or intentions (even if flawed) may fail pastorally to help people. Sympathy, understanding, and love for the sinner are often essential in bring healing to him and in helping him to do better and get better.

However, having no regard for the sinfulness the act itself is not a proper pastoral stance either. Doing so would be like a doctor denying the existence of disease and limiting himself to reassuring people or telling them that they were good and decent people. Meanwhile, the disease (which does actually exist despite his denials) continues to grow and get worse. Such a doctor lacks true compassion and is guilty of malpractice. Such is also true of those who would deny that sin is sin. Despite their false reassurances the actual damage that sin and error cause continue, because good intentions cannot make a bad act good, or an error true. Lies, flattery, and illusion are never good pastoral practices.

There may be some who have sought to read the recent synodal exhortation apart from the Catholic framework from which it emerges. This is an error. One cannot and should not interpret the Pope’s appeal for good pastoral practice apart from the long-standing Catholic understanding of how to assess moral acts. It is this tradition from which the Pope speaks. Intentions and circumstances are important, especially as regards culpability. They are an important part of pastoral practice. Pastors and confessors must work carefully with each penitent, guiding him to ever greater fidelity and conformity to moral truth. It is a delicate work that requires patience and persistence. It requires a compassion that considers the person’s intentions and circumstances, but does not ignore the act itself or “recast” it based simply on good intentions or difficult circumstances. Morality consists in doing well, not just meaning well. We are summoned to actually do what is right not just think or feel right. True compassion leads people to greater conformity to God’s design.

The commercial in the video below is a strange one. But what it promises, only God can deliver. In this fanciful ad, Nike claims that it collects the “air” of the best athletes in the world and makes it available to you in their Nike Air shoes. But what it promises is something that only God can deliver.

Unfortunately, as Scripture rightly notes, our air or breath is passing: What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes (James 4:14).

In contrast, God’s breath sustains and gives life:

1. The Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being (Gen 2:7).
2. The Spirit of God has made me; the breath of the Almighty gives me life (Job 33:4).
3. This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these dry bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life (Ez 37:5).
4. And when Jesus had said this, He breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, their sins have been forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they have been retained” (John 20:22-23).
5. But after three and a half days, God breathed life into [the two slain witnesses], and they
   stood up! Terror struck all who were staring at them (Rev 11:11).
6. All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, for reproof, … (2 Tim 3:16).
7. By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, and by the breath of his mouth all their host (Ps 33:6).

What this Nike ad promises, only can God deliver. He is the true “Nike.” (In Greek mythology, Nike was a goddess who personified victory.) His breath gives us new life and empowers us to new things. Ruah Adonai (the Breath of God): it gives life, empowers us, and bestows upon us new strength. Come, Holy Spirit; Come, Holy Breath of God!

Nike makes fine shoes, but God is the author of all that is fine.

A big problem today is that of rampant boredom. One would think, with all the diversions available to us, we would be one of the least bored generations in history. There are various forms of entertainment available to us quite literally at our fingertips: television, radio, the Internet, Netflix, video games, and more.

Yet it still seems that we moderns are often bored. The reason for this, I think, is that we are overstimulated.

The loud and frantic pace of even our recreational activities leaves most of us incapable of appreciating the subtler, gentler, and more hidden things of life.

Dale Ahlquist, the great commentator on G.K. Chesterton, writes,

There is no excuse for being bored. … And yet the modern world is bored. … Our entertainment grows louder, flashier, and more bizarre in ever more desperate attempts just to keep our attention.

As G.K. Chesterton proclaims (in Tremendous Trifles, p.7): “The world will never starve for want of wonders; but only for want of wonder.” There are no dreary sites, he declares, only dreary sightseers (Common Sense 101, p. 27).

Boredom is a problem on the inside. And happiness, too, is an inside job. We should all seek the great gifts of wonder and awe. We should strive to appreciate God’s glories and wonders, which are on display at every moment: in everything we see and in everyone we encounter.

But the gift of wonder also depends on other gifts, in particular, humility and gratitude.

Ahlquist further writes,

The key to happiness and the key to wonder is humility. … Humility means being small enough to see the greatness of something and to feel unworthy of it, and privileged to be able to enjoy it (Common Sense 101, p. 33).

Consider well the meaning of this wonderful yet simple reflection, and the relationship between humility, wonder, and gratitude. Yes, to be humble is to feel unworthy of the glories that are ever before us, to wonder at them and to feel privileged just to be permitted to enjoy them.

Indeed, even the word “consider” invites us to a kind of awestruck and grateful mysticism. The word “consider” comes from the Latin words cum (with) and sidera (stars), so that its literal roots convey “with the stars.”  In other words, to consider something is to think upon it, regard it, and gaze upon it with the wonder with which one would look at the night sky filled with stars!

So, “consider” well the glories that are on display for us every moment and behold them with humility, wonder, and gratitude.

One of the strong traditions of Scripture is of the great reversal that will one day come for many. I have often been sobered by it when I consider how blessed I have been in this life. I have also been consoled by it when I struggle to understand why some people in this world seem to suffer so much more that I do, or others do.

Life seems a very uneven proposition if we only look at this side of the equation. Only God sees the whole picture, but to some extent, he has revealed that those who have suffered much in this life will be more than rewarded in the life to come and that there will be a great reversal.

The theme of the great reversal is most fully developed in the New Testament where the understanding of the life to come is also most developed. Consider the following texts:

1. But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first (Matt 19:30, Mark 10:31).
2. He has cast down the mighty from their thrones but lifted up the lowly. The hungry he has filled with good things; but the rich he has sent away empty (Lk 1:52-53).
3. Abraham replied [to the rich man], “My child, remember that you received what was good during your lifetime while Lazarus likewise received what was bad; but now he is comforted here, whereas you are tormented …” (Luke 16:25).
4. Blessed are you who are now hungry, for you will be satisfied. Blessed are you who are now weeping, for you will laugh. Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude and insult you, and denounce your name as evil on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice and leap for joy on that day! Behold, your reward will be great in heaven. For their ancestors treated the prophets in the same way. But woe to you who are rich, for you have received your consolation. But woe to you who are filled now, for you will be hungry. Woe to you who laugh now, for you will grieve and weep. Woe to you when all speak well of you, for their ancestors treated the false prophets in this way (Luke 6:21-26).
5. Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more (Luke 12:48).
6. I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us (Rom 8:18).
7. For this momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to what is seen but to what is unseen; for what is seen is transitory, but what is unseen is eternal (2 Cor 4:17-18).

There are other examples, and I invite you to add to this list. But, for now, let these suffice. As I have said, I am both challenged and consoled by these texts.

I am consoled because I have suffered and experienced setbacks in this life, as I’m sure have you. But the Lord promises that if these are endured with faith, they ultimately lead to profit, not loss. And while much of this benefit may wait until Heaven, sufferings endured with faith are like treasure stored up in Heaven. First the cross, but then the crown. Hallelujah!

I am also consoled on behalf of others. I know many people who have suffered far more than seems fair. They have experienced loss after loss: lost health, lost jobs, lost homes, lost family members. My humanity recoils at this and I often cry to God on the behalf of these people who seem to suffer so much more than others. Why, O Lord?

But I am also challenged. I am certainly among those who are first. What does this say for me in the great reversal that is coming upon this world? My health is good; I enjoy bountiful blessings. I am more blessed that I deserve. I live in the richest and most powerful country in the world. My needs are largely provided for. I am here in my temperature-controlled room with plenty of time to write and to ponder things. I live far above mere subsistence level. I am surely among the first, the rich. Even the poorest in this country are blessed compared to many in other parts of the world.

Where shall I be when the first trumpet sounds, when the great reversal sets in?

Not everything is as it appears. We crave wealth, power, and access, considering those to be blessings. We want to be first. But God warns that it may well be a curse:

Those who want to be rich are falling into temptation and into a trap and into many foolish and harmful desires, which plunge them into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is the root of all evils, and some people in their desire for it have strayed from the faith and have pierced themselves with many pains (1 Tim 6:9-10).

Even though we are familiar with texts like this we still want to be rich, on top, first. We are very obtuse!

And so I am challenged. I am not, however, defeated or fatalistic. God has not utterly forsaken those who are first. He has left us a way. He has given us instruction on how to avoid the “curse” of our wealth and good fortune: use our position as “first” in order to bless others; place our many gifts at the service of the human family. A few texts come to mind:

1. I tell you, make friends for yourselves with deceitful wealth, so that when it fails, they [likely the poor whom we befriended] will welcome you into eternal dwellings (Luke 16:9).
2. Tell the rich in the present age not to be proud and not to rely on so uncertain a thing as wealth but rather on God, who richly provides us with all things for our enjoyment. Tell them to do good, to be rich in good works, to be generous, ready to share, thus accumulating as treasure a good foundation for the future, so as to win the life that is true life (1 Tim 6:17-19).

And so it is that the Lord instructs those who are cursed to be first to store up our true treasure in Heaven (Matt 6:19). Of course we do not store up our treasure in Heaven by sending it up in a balloon or rocket! Rather, we store it up by generously dispensing it to the poor and needy. We may do this through a simple gift. Perhaps we provide jobs and economic opportunity for others. Maybe we share our knowledge, talents, or time. In doing such things, perhaps our curse of being among the first will be overcome.

The great reversal is coming! Where will I be when the first trumpet sounds?

This Chant of the Funeral Mass refers to the great reversal but prays that the deceased will be found with Lazarus, who once was poor. The text says, In paradisum deducant te Angeli; in tuo adventu suscipiant te martyres, et perducant te in civitatem sanctam Ierusalem. Chorus angelorum te suscipiat, et cum Lazaro quondam paupere æternam habeas requiem. (May the angels lead you to paradise and at your coming may the martyrs receive you and may they lead you into the Holy City Jerusalem. May a choir of Angels receive you and with Lazarus who once was poor, may you have eternal rest.)

Here in the Western world, we live in a culture that tends to treat anger as taboo. A common tactic to unsettle an opponent today is to accuse him or her of being angry. It is amazing how easily humiliated and/or defensive an adversary can become in response to such an accusation. Yes, it is remarkable how quickly the one accused of anger can feel the need to resort to denials such as these:

1. I am not angry! (Note that this is usually said angrily, thus demonstrating its falsehood.)
2. I’m not angry; I’m just frustrated. (Note that frustrated is just a nicer way of saying angry.)
3. I’m not angry; You’re the one who’s angry! (Note that the “terrible” charge of being angry is denied instead of owned and appreciated as an expression of passion for something that matters.)
4. Of course I’m angry, but who wouldn’t be angry when talking to an idiot! (Note that in saying this, one is tacitly accepting the accusation while at the same time excusing it.)

Rare indeed in the West is someone who will respond in a way that both admits anger and owns it as something positive and important. One way to do this would be to say, “You’re right; I am angry. I’m angry because I really care about this matter; I’m not just a neutral observer. I fully admit that I have an agenda, an agenda I believe in passionately. I experience grief and anger when what I value is disparaged. Yes, I’m angry; I care about this.”

Of itself, anger is just a passion, an energy that is aroused in us when we sense that something is wrong or that something is threatening us. This anger energizes us for action, mental and/or physical. The body becomes involved in this as adrenaline is released into our system.

The Bible does condemn vengeful anger, but it also describes anger that is not sinful: Be angry, but sin not (Eph 4:26). The sinless Jesus exhibits quite a bit of anger in several Bible passages (e.g., Luke 11; Mark 10; Matthew 17:17; Matthew 21:15; Matthew 26:8; Mark 10:14; Mark 14:4; John 2; and John 8). His indignation shows us that anger is sometimes an appropriate response.

Despite this, we seem to be felled quite easily by the charge that we are angry. We live in soft, thin-skinned times. The pervasive relativism of today suggests that even if we are going to believe in something, we ought not to believe in it too strongly, because that might mean that we have an “agenda,” that we think there is an objective truth to be upheld and insisted upon. And according to modern “rules,” having an “agenda” (i.e., thinking that certain things are surely true) is wrong with a capital ‘W.’ There is also today an inordinate emphasis on tolerance, a necessary component in a pluralistic setting but not an absolute virtue.

Whatever the reasons, anger, an ordinary and necessary human passion, is humiliating to most modern Westerners. The response of most to the charge of being angry is to try to squirm out of it.

And yet I say that we need more of it. Now I’m not talking about fisticuffs coming in a violent outburst, nor am I referring to the ugliness and personal disrespect rampant on the Internet (usually issued from behind the anonymous safety of a personal computer). Rather, I speak of an anger rooted in love and a deep commitment to the truth, an anger that arises from seeing the harm caused by lies, deception, error, sin, and injustice.

Lovers fight. Lovers get angry; and well they should. For when love is in the mix, things matter. Truth matters; error and harm matter. Lovers want what is best for their beloved, not merely what is expedient or convenient.

Author Dale Ahlquist expresses a lot of this better than I can. In his recent book The Complete Thinker, where he analyzes the thoughts of G.K. Chesterton, Ahlquist writes,

Chesterton illustrates the point about “the twin elements of loving and fighting.” … Modern philosophies have tried to do away with this paradox … but fighting and loving actually go together. You cannot love a thing without wanting to fight for it. … To love a thing without wishing to fight for it is not love at all. …

The connection between two such apparent opposites points to the idea that truth is always an amazing balancing act. … If we lean too far in one direction or the other, we lose our balance. Thus, both militarism and pacifism represent a loss of balance.

Militarism is simply bullying, the strong having their own way. Pacifism is a lack of loyalty, a promise not to defend the innocent, the helpless, the defenseless.

The Church has always had to maintain the precarious balance of truth, whether in war or in anything else. …

Sometimes the only way to stop the fighting is to fight. Sometimes the only way to end a war is to win it—but only as an act of defense, not as an act of aggression. …

The sword is an important symbol of Christianity. It is not only in the shape of a cross; it is the scriptural symbol of truth, which cuts both ways—because error comes from opposite sides.

Chesterton also says he likes swords because “they come to a point,” unlike most modern art and philosophy.

Yes, lovers fight and get angry. And the anger of the greatest lover of them all, God, is evident in the downward thrust of the cross into the soil of this world, with its manifold lies and half-truths. The cross is the downward thrust, like that of a sword, of God’s non placet to the rebellion of this world and to the error it holds so arrogantly.

And yet that downward thrust is also open in love, as can be seen in the outward arms of the cross, the outstretched arms of Christ. At the very center of the cross, where anger and love unite, is the heart of Christ.

Yes, love and anger are closer to each other than we moderns often realize or admit. Love says that there are certain things worth fighting for and being angry about. But the anger coming from love is not egocentric, it is “other-centric.” It is focused on God, the truth, and the dignity of those who are meant to walk in truth. Ahlquist says, “In loving our enemies, we want to convert them so they are not our enemies anymore. Ultimately, we want to get our enemies to join our side.”

Yes, some things are worth fighting for and about. Ahlquist continues,

No sane man has ever held, that war is a good thing. … But the … occasion may arise when it is better for a man to fight than to surrender …. War is not the direst calamity that can befall a people. There is one worse state, at least: the state of slavery.

While a good peace is better than a good war, even a good war is better than a bad peace.

[And thus the] Church on earth is called the Church Militant. War is a metaphor, and it would not work as a metaphor if it were not a reality, a reality that we have to live with.

This life of ours is a very enjoyable fight, but a very miserable truce.

That last line is a very telling description of the modern age: a miserable truce. Everyone is walking on eggshells, afraid of offending anyone, and suppressing the truth on account of this fear. And thus our anger gets suppressed, renamed, and turned inward. It has been said that the definition of depression is “anger turned inward.” That’s not a bad definition in times like these, when large numbers of people are on anti-depressants and other psychotropic medicines to manage the “miserable truce” that is the false peace of these times. It is a peace rooted not in the truth, but in the compelled silence of political correctness and under the cloak of euphemisms and thinly veiled politeness.

Perhaps that is why such ugliness erupts from time to time, especially in relatively anonymous settings like social media and blog comment boxes. Here, we, who have forgotten how to have a good argument in person or how to manage and appreciate our anger in normal ways, can resort to the ugliness of savage and unkind personal attacks.

This sort of anger, often seen in political settings as well, is not about truth or love. It is about scoring points; it is about winning with little regard for truth or love. But the Church Militant without love is not the Church.

At the end of the day, though, anger has its place in the context of love. Decent, fair fights are necessary for those who love. Without a proper appreciation for these, we end up with the gray fog of a “miserable truce” that is evident in the modern West.

Just for fun, here’s a music video of the Bobby McFerrin song “Don’t Worry Be Happy.”

 

Most people associate the word “vanity” with an excessive concern or pride in one’s appearance or sometimes in one’s qualities. But at its root, vanity refers to emptiness. To say that someone is vain is to say that it he or she is empty or largely lacking in meaning, depth, or substance.

It makes sense that people get worked up about externals when there isn’t much happening on the inside. And thus it makes sense that we connect emptiness (vanity) with excessive show.

There are many expressions that enshrine this connection:

All form and no substance

That Texan is all hat and no cattle

All bark and no bite

All booster, no payload

All foam, no beer

All sizzle and no steak

All talk

Show me the money

The Wisdom Tradition in the Bible, especially the Book of Ecclesiastes, speaks of vanity at great length. In it, the word is usually used to refer to the ultimate futility of what this world offers because the world itself is ultimately empty and vacuous.

• Then I considered all that my hands had done and the toil I had expended in doing it, and behold, all was vanity and a striving after wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun (Eccl 2:11).
• He who loves money will not be satisfied with money, nor he who loves wealth with his income; this also is vanity (Eccl 5:10).

The world, which so mesmerizes our senses, shows itself ultimately to be empty of power or any lasting substance.

• We have here, no lasting city (Heb 13:14).
• As for man, his days are like grass: or as the flower of the field. Behold, he flourishes. But the wind blows and he is gone; and his place never sees him again (Ps 103:15-16).

I thought of these notions of vanity when I saw this admittedly very funny commercial. It shows a man concerned only with his appearance. Actually, he’s even more vain than that: it’s how he smells that concerns him (this is an Old Spice commercial, after all). He is so vapid, so vain, that he thinks that even if he doesn’t look good, well at least he smells like someone who looks good!

As he moves through the scenes of the commercial he becomes increasingly devoid of substance (literally!).

Symbolically, we can see him as the vain person who goes through life carelessly, paying no attention to the way in which the world, the desires of the flesh, and the devil strike at and eat away at him. But he doesn’t worry about that because at least he smells like someone who looks good! His only real substance is to be lighter than air, a whiff. It is form over substance, impression over reality. It is empty show; it is vanity on steroids.

Here is a humorous look at vanity, a vanity so extreme that it goes beyond appearance and extends into the vapid, vacuous, and vaporous vanity of merely wanting to smell like someone who looks good. It is a remarkable portrait of the empty show that vanity ultimately is. Enjoy!