The Deadlies: Pride

             

           When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom. 

Proverbs 11:2

Pride, at the root of the first sin, is often what underlies all others. Pride is fundamentally refusal to submit to God, and the Fall in genesis is illustrative of that. We know what happened to Adam and Eve, the disgrace that follows pride.

Saint Gregory the Great wrote "Pride, the queen of vices, when it has vanquished and captured the heart, forthwith delivers it into the hands of its lieutenants the seven principal [i.e. deadly] vices, that they may despoil it and produce vices of all kinds." (Morals xxxi, 45) It is the insidious general sin that lurks inside and manifests in many ways.

Humility is the antidote. The Catechism of the Catholic Church teaches "humility is the foundation of prayer." (CCC 2559) When we prostrate ourselves in adoration, we place ourselves in right relationship to God. It is a basic act of humility.

In practical terms, the deep desire to be in control conflicts with humility. Jesus has given us the best example. It isn't an accident that the temptations in the desert (Luke 4:1-13) come right after His baptism by John. The devil prods him, "IF you are the Son of God" to test whether or not He is and whether or not he can be bent to the enemy's will. Jesus doesn't bite. He answers every offer remaining obedient to his father's will and reminding all of us, "Him alone shall you worship."

The entire arc of the spiritual life could be described as the gradual emptying out of self in order to be filled with God. Wait? Isn't that the temptation in the Garden again? No. We are called to be like God and with God but not to BE him or to be above him.

The temptation lurks and often becomes even more insidious as we progress in virtue. To take pride in our virtuous acts as if we are the author of them, rather than that they are powered by God's grace acting through us is one way the enemy uses pride to undermine goodness.

And yet, God gives us gifts, prosperity, and talents for his own reasons and for his service. Gratitude is one way to remember that our success are not ours. We aren't asked to hide our gifts under a bushel but to remember where they came from. True humility is to say my voice glorifies Him in song because He wills it. Or my business has prospered by his grace and He shows me how to use it for good. Or I must write the best stories I can and use His gift as effectively as I can for His service.

It's complicated. If you want a detailed picking apart of pride, humility, and the pitfalls, try Saint Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae, Secunda Secundae Partis, Question 162.

Catherine of Siena is reputed to have heard God tell her, "I am He who is God. You are she who is not."  Sometimes just remembering that helps. I am she who is not.

GRAPHIC: Adam and Eve Temptation by the Serpent mediaeval painted panel on wood nave ceiling Ely Cathedral Photograph by David Lyons

The Deadlies: Envy

 

You shall not covet...anything that is your neighbors'.

Exodus 2:17, Deuteronomy 5:21

 

 

 An earlier post listed the seven deadly sins in rough order from least to most harmful. Envy resides near the bottom; it is one of the worst. Only pride is more insidious and harmful to the spiritual life than envy.

The scriptures' list of the things we ought not covet focuses on belongings: their house, their fields, their servants, their ox, and of course their wife. Alas, in ancient times, the wife was often considered as much a belonging as the herds, or close to.

In fact, envy can infest every part of our life. We may envy belongings, career, success, travel, position in the parish or company, popularity, fame, rewards, and so on. Worse, we  may envy romantic relationships or apparently successful marriages. We may come to envy families that appear to be happier or healthier than our own. We may envy others' dedication to exercise, healthy diet, or volunteer work. We may, in fact, envy virtue. It is an insidious trait.

Saint Augustine rated it as particularly diabolical. He wrote, "From envy are born hatred, detraction, calumny, joy caused by the misfortune of a neighbor, and displeasure caused by his prosperity."

Envy is one of those sins that embeds itself deep in the soul where it festers and grows before it even comes to our attention in the form of specific behaviors or resentments. Like all the deadly sins, it may grow unnoticed, damaging us from within.

The catechism teaches that envy is a form of sadness, and therefore a refusal of charity. When it reaches the point it causes us to actively wish harm on another, it has become truly mortal to the soul.

What is the cure? Repentance, of course. Reconciliation when needed. Then active charity. Turn to the sixth chapter of Luke. "Do good to those who hate you." Hate you? Do good to all. Go out of your way to do good to someone when resentment towards them builds up in your heart. If you've harmed them, make restitution. Pray for them.

The green eyed monster graphic is by Polina Sokolvav, Creative Commons 3.0 license, via Wikimedia Commons

 

The Deadlies: Sloth

Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down 

and thrown into the fire.

                 Matthew 7:19 

 

This one took considerable thought, especially in my current situation. Images of sloth often show a man on a hammock ostensibly doing nothing. That man, however, might well be deep in prayer, busy working out a problem, or giving his system much needed rest in order to carry out his responsibilities. On the other hand his super busy neighbor might use work to avoid doing the spiritual or temporal good he is called to do.

In my current situation resting is what I need to do. The trauma of a double grief requires healing and rest, but that doesn't mean I'm neglecting prayer—at least I'm trying not to. Nor is it an excuse to neglect kindness when I have an opportunity to do it.

Aquinas wrote that sloth destroys the spiritual life because it stands in opposition to love--to charity. It is a sin of neglect, causing us to fail to do the good we're called to do. 

Sloth could be defined as wasting time that could be given to God. As some writers have indicated it is a sin of omission, the failure whether through laziness or fear to do good. 

 Neglect can take many forms—failure to pray, failure to take part in sacrament, failure to do domestic responsibilities, failure to care for others. Lying under it is a failure to rely on God's strength and grace, to be trapped in your own "woe is me." The Catechism of the Catholic Church says that spiritual sloth can go so far as to refuse the joy that comes from God!

In that sense, it sounds more related to depression, or more accurately, to refuse God's help when in the throes of clinical depression. I've been there too.

In the end I think it is "deadly" because of the good it causes us to neglect. Matthew 25 tells us quite clearly that at the last judgement we will be accountable for the good we do, and what we fail to do. The failure is sloth.

 

 

Grief Six: a Step Back

 

Your word is a lamp to my feet...

                        Psalm 119 

 Check up today:

Prayers — going well

Remembering God's presence—yes 

Daily Bible—fair

Sleep—moderately good

Depression—still there but mild

Energy—meh

Motivation—none (see below)

Walking—going well

Writing—up and down

Hip stretching—er...not so good

Reading—lots

Video Games—had to cut back

House keeping—not terrible

Not much else to report. File the rest under "Be kind to yourself." 

There will be no vegetable garden this year. Hired someone to help clean up flower beds. Plan to do some planting. I would like to do a Swedish Death Cleanse and get rid of half my belongings, but perhaps not this year. The basement files are begging for attention. Some things boxed for church rummage sale. Thinking about jumping in the car and going to visit Pam in Columbus. May do it.

Stay with me Lord for I am small and alone and there is darkness.

Grief 5: Peace

 As soon as I lie down, I fall peacefully asleep, for you alone, O LORD, bring security to my dwelling.

Psalm 4 

 

 

 

 

 

Perhaps it is the glorious sunshine, or the warmth in the air. Perhaps it is my beautiful daffodils—or the music of Easter—but today is a joyful one. OR maybe the privilege of being a Eucharistic minister today.

My last counseling session was simple and good. I think I've come to terms with the nature of grief.  It isn't collapsing in pain or uncontrollable tears. There is some sadness, yes, but not a debilitating amount. Regret? Not over my marriage, but I'm letting go of some over parenthood.

 

My grief is more general malaise and weariness as I adjust to new realities and expectations. It is an inability to imagine the future, which is undoubtedly a good thing. It is work, but it is manageable and it will pass. For now—one day at a time, one step at a time.

 

And I'm remembering His "word is a lamp unto my feet."

Grief 4: Life and Death

 

We had a glorious Easter—Alleluias, soaring music, sunshine, flowers, and warmth. I was reminded, though, that in order to have Easter, you must have Good Friday first. As CS Lewis famously said, "The pain I feel now is the happiness I had before. That is the deal."

My readers are probably aware this has been a difficult year. You may not know I lost both one of my daughters and my Beloved of 54 years in a space of three weeks at the beginning of the year. It is a lot to swallow. It will take a good long year of mourning before I can approach normal, if then.

This weekend I discovered the concept of "widow brain," a state that includes brain fog and fatigue. there is a growing body of science about the impact of loss on brain function. My whole brain is building new pathways and struggling with old ones. It explained a lot. Every thing I do from the time I get up until i go to bed (and especially then) is new and different. Expected stimuli are missing, new ones forming. No wonder I'm exhausted.

I continue to write daily, or try at least. This week I'm flying off to visit family. They live at an airport in a condo facing a pond visited by migrating birds. It will be a good break. This morning, I have to pack. And write. But first, coffee!

(This was originally posted on Caroline Warfield's blog. Caroline is Carol's pseudonym for novel writing.)

The Deadlies: Wrath

Put away from you all bitterness and wrath and anger and wrangling and slander,    together with all malice...  

                                                                                    Ephesians 4:31

I am skipping Sloth for now because this one has been with me during my Lenten pondering this year. What is wrath? Though it is a synonym for anger, it is sometimes defined as forceful, vindictive anger. It implies resentment and vengeance.

It struck me recently that it is a good example for explaining the difference between petty sins and big sin. It is one thing to confess, time after time, "I snapped at my sister-in-law at a gathering" or "I yelled at my husband three times." It is quite another to dig out deep-seated long-term resentment and anger that lies under those frequent sins and pull it up by its roots. Without God's help, we have no hope of doing that. The snapping and yelling are manifestations of the sin we may be harboring.

Saint Gregory of Nyssa wrote about the origin of sin by saying anger produces murder and therefore it should be killed when it starts to avoid growing into the greater evil. We have to root it out.

the producer of evil gives birth to lust before adultery and anger before murder, in destroying the firstborn he certainly kills along with it the offspring which follows. (Nyssa, The Life of Moses)

To pull out anger and resentment, to foster forgiveness and love, is to contribute to the store of peace in the world. To harbor it is to contribute to the store of wrath. As I write this war is raging in Israel and Gaza, in Ukraine, in central Africa, in Haiti, and threatening in many other places as if Wrath is unleashed and the Enemy has free rein. We can pray for peace, and we can work for it too.

Grief 3: Alone

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Psalm 23:4

I've never lived alone before. The quiet is deafening, hence the need for the TV to be on. I'm talking to Ambrose, the bear every day. SIGH.

It occurred to me yesterday that I am reluctant to wake up in the morning. I get a decent night's sleep, wake at 7:30 or 8, and then roll over, letting melatonin hangover drop me back into dreams. I've been sleeping until 10! I may be using my need for sleep after hospice (which is very real) as an excuse to avoid getting up to an empty house.

I've also been pondering advance grief. Is it possible I'm finished already? I was relatively calm when the decision for hospice was made because Greg and I had had suspected heart failure all along. Dr. Yasmajian thinks not. She suspects that caregivers frequently experience relief in the immediate aftermath of death that masks other things and grief can come in a wave later. Everyone grieves differently. We'll see.

Meanwhile, I walk with God every day. I'm not alone.

Two Hours Later...

Walking out on a nippy afternoon, I thought about something else, the hermit saints. Starting with Anthony of Egypt to Thomas Merton we have a whole history of people being called to solitude. I am not one of them. I've never felt a strong contemplative call. I was called to marriage and family. So what are God's plans for me in widowhood? I'll find out eventually.