Glad you opened with that quote from St. Paisios. It's been a go to for me ever since I came across if a couple of years ago. I go to it because it gets at an important distinction, a distinction I'd learned elsewhere and which it reinforced.
I don't know I'd ever relayed this story to you, Michael, but in the course of obtaining my bachelor's degree in physics, I learned one of the most valuable life lessons that, until that time, I'd never given any thought to, however obvious it sounds when stating it.
I was about halfway through the degree, studying for my final exam in my "Methods of Theoretical Physics" course (it was just a math course). On the study guide, there was an equation I simply couldn't solve. I'd tried for days. I eventually went to my professor and showed him where I was getting stuck. He told me that my final step was mathematically true, but wasn't helpful as it led me down a wrong path. He showed me a different mathematical statement that was just as true but led me down a different, helpful path. After that, I could see the remaining steps to do and the problem resolved itself.
Ever since then, it has stuck with me that there is a world of different between the merely true and the actually helpful. Whatever is actually helpful will be true in some way, but whatever is true is not necessarily helpful depending on the context. And that distinction, between true and helpful, is what that quote by St. Paisios is getting at.
And that's why I've so enjoyed these past couple of posts, because you're hammering home that difference. There are times when not being nice is the most helpful thing we can do, but most often, the opposite is the case. And most of us, most of the time, aren't able to discern when which would be most helpful so it's always better to err on the side of mercy.
At the end of the day we must ask ourselves why we're so focused on denigrating niceness. I genuinely think it's because this ridiculous culture war has only served to make us angry and we're trying to give ourselves moral permission, as Christians, to give in to the desire to hate the people on the other side.
"We have to proceed when trying to [spiritually] help others like a person crossing a ford: if we find a good passage, or a path or hope that some benefit will follow, we press on; but if the ford is choppy, and people will be scandalized by the good works in question, we always have to rein in, looking for the season or the hour that will be more appropriate for speaking" (St. Ignatius Loyola, Letter to Teresa Rejadell, 1536).
"[I]t is not necessary for salvation to confess one's faith at all times and in all places, but in certain places and at certain times, when, namely, by omitting to do so, we would deprive God of due honor, or our neighbor of a service that we ought to render him ... [And] [t]here is nothing commendable in making a public confession of one's faith, if it causes a disturbance among unbelievers without any profit either to the faith or to the faithful" (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae II-II, 3, 2, resp. & ad. 3).
Recently I came across a useful prayer suggestion. Pray that someone else, not yourself, would correct a person you love who is mired in trouble. The advice was for the case where a direct confrontation from you either has not solved the issue or is unlikely to solve the issue. I believe it was over at Catholic Answers.
A very popular Catholic blogger, Ann Barnhardt, regularly refers to gay men as “faggots”. And even though I am a gay man who attends Courage and is embracing traditional Catholic teaching on same-sex attraction, I find it hard not to take offense over this (still, we are talking about a woman who, with a straight face, posts photos of herself posed with a pink-colored AR 57). Keep fighting the good fight though, Michael, you more than make up for creeps like dear Ann, and I have already linked In Defense of Humanity (an instant classic, IMHO) to the Rod Dreher commentary diaspora on Discord. Leave the insults to the saints among us; the rest of us should just focus on those roof beams stuck under our eyelids.
Interesting essay and mostly I agree with you. I disagree, though, about "refusing even to sit at table" with people whose sins we consider to be worse than our own. A holy person knows that there is no such thing as a sinner whose sins are greater/worse than his own. The more aware we become of our own sins the more inclined we must become to show the utmost kindness and courtesy -- not, though, conviviality -- to those whose sins, though perhaps more obvious to us, are clearly not yet obvious to them. A sinner turns a blind eye to the moral implications of his/her choices and decisions; s/he must do so or s/he could not continue to indulge in and commit them. The more we see of our own inner selves the more we ought to be able to see within others. Love is what saves us; love alone can save the others. Love sees and does not condone but love also does not condemn.
Thank you for this thoughtful post MWD, I will need to spend some time digesting this. I suppose another way to say this might be (to paraphrase St. Paul) anything undertaken in true charity (i.e. love for the other person and a desire for their communion with God prompted by the Holy Spirit) is permissible--against such things there is no law. But...one must be so very close to God oneself to act out of such Charity.
Something to add to my Lenten confession, this post caused me to think of a particular example from my youth of which I had largely forgotten, when I had approached someone with (what I thought then) to be a pious rebuke, but upon later reflection, realized it was primarily an exercise in vanity. It is all too easy to do! To have the discernment of a St. Paisios, there is no logical proof or worldly codex that will ever get one there. The only thing is to know Christ so well, that we might see with the eyes of the Holy Spirit and not our own.
I love the way you have portrayed the strength of weakness here. It is always an edifying pleasure to read your words.
There are two important points to be made. First, whether a hardened sinner receives a stern rebuke with docility or resists it, depends to a great on his temperament and his relationship to the one correcting him. Ironically, it is often, though not always, those of a more choleric temperament who accept harsh words better. And he is always more likely to be docile if he already respects his corrector. Second, even if the sinner needs to hear harsh words, the corrector may not benefit from speaking those harsh words, unless he speaks them in a spirit of true humility.
There is a story about St. Francis de Sales--I wish I could remember where I read it but I think it comes from Jean Pierre Camus--about a correction he received as a boy. Even though St. Francis is known as being among the meekest and kindest of the saints, he confided many times to his friends that he had struggled for years to conquer the deadly sin of wrath. Even until the end of his life, he used to scratch the underside of his desk when he felt himself becoming annoyed so as to avoid losing his mild composure. In any event, as a choleric boy he benefited from harsh treatment at the hands of his father. St. Francis had stolen a valuable item from a household servant, not because he needed money, but simply for the thrill of stealing. Suspicion fell on another servant and the innocent servant was at the point of being punished. St. Francis's conscience was pricked and so he confessed his sin to his father. His father, however, perceiving a deep pride that he wanted to root out as thoroughly as possible, then gathered the entire household and gave a thrashing to his son. Later, St. Francis said that this punishment was the best lesson he had learned from his father.
However, even if St. Francis learned humility from this lesson, it seems that his father did not. For years St. Francis's relationship with his father was strained because his father's ambition was for him to become a great statesman and they barely spoke after St. Francis renounced his inheritance to become a priest.
I think it’s dangerous for any Christian to get in the habit of using insults but, knowing myself, I think it’s particularly dangerous for me to do it. I am someone who has a sharp tongue (and pen) and I know that I am tempted to use both to prove I’m right. And the sense of self-satisfaction and self-righteousness I get from writing or saying something witty when refuting (and often really insulting) is definitely bad for my soul. I don’t know you in real life but I sense from your writings you struggle (or at least used to struggle) with this same tendency. Thanks for writing this! We’re learning to be kinder together. I know I need it!
"Only a Sith deals in absolutes..." Sorry, couldn't help myself. An important exegetical principle, I am not Jesus! I'm the sinner, the leper, the blind man in the story. It's so hard to keep my eyes on my own sins and desperate need. It's deeply uncomfortable. Whereas, focusing on others allows me a convenient distraction. "I thank you Lord that I am not like that guy over there!" It's the old "log and spec" situation.
I'm reminded of a quote from Rumi,
"Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates:
Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind?”
Seems like a solid standard by which to determine if something needs to be said or not.
Mostly when we criticize others it’s to make ourselves look better in comparison. If we do it in a real spirit of love and concern for the other, it may be justified. But, as you wrote, discernment is tricky unless one is well on the way to sainthood!
What are you trying to alleviate in your readers, or perhaps yourself, with this ignoble gem?
“… No offense, dear reader! It’s just that living saints are few and far between these days, and they probably wouldn’t waste their time reading my Subtack.”
Seems to be out of harmony with your thesis. Can’t see how pleasing God is found within this. And for saints what really distinguishes when they were breathing from after that stopped?
You do consider the saints you have referenced intercede on our behalf? Do you realize that means that they are surely a part of your greater audience?
Just with that in mind, that these saints to whom we look for guidance are hearing us, could make the helpful insult more affable.
Strictly speaking God may not "need" anyone or anything, but it is is true that God acts through his creation, which may include us too at times. We cannot and should not just sit around on our diffs waiting for gaudy miracles.
Glad you opened with that quote from St. Paisios. It's been a go to for me ever since I came across if a couple of years ago. I go to it because it gets at an important distinction, a distinction I'd learned elsewhere and which it reinforced.
I don't know I'd ever relayed this story to you, Michael, but in the course of obtaining my bachelor's degree in physics, I learned one of the most valuable life lessons that, until that time, I'd never given any thought to, however obvious it sounds when stating it.
I was about halfway through the degree, studying for my final exam in my "Methods of Theoretical Physics" course (it was just a math course). On the study guide, there was an equation I simply couldn't solve. I'd tried for days. I eventually went to my professor and showed him where I was getting stuck. He told me that my final step was mathematically true, but wasn't helpful as it led me down a wrong path. He showed me a different mathematical statement that was just as true but led me down a different, helpful path. After that, I could see the remaining steps to do and the problem resolved itself.
Ever since then, it has stuck with me that there is a world of different between the merely true and the actually helpful. Whatever is actually helpful will be true in some way, but whatever is true is not necessarily helpful depending on the context. And that distinction, between true and helpful, is what that quote by St. Paisios is getting at.
And that's why I've so enjoyed these past couple of posts, because you're hammering home that difference. There are times when not being nice is the most helpful thing we can do, but most often, the opposite is the case. And most of us, most of the time, aren't able to discern when which would be most helpful so it's always better to err on the side of mercy.
At the end of the day we must ask ourselves why we're so focused on denigrating niceness. I genuinely think it's because this ridiculous culture war has only served to make us angry and we're trying to give ourselves moral permission, as Christians, to give in to the desire to hate the people on the other side.
"We have to proceed when trying to [spiritually] help others like a person crossing a ford: if we find a good passage, or a path or hope that some benefit will follow, we press on; but if the ford is choppy, and people will be scandalized by the good works in question, we always have to rein in, looking for the season or the hour that will be more appropriate for speaking" (St. Ignatius Loyola, Letter to Teresa Rejadell, 1536).
"[I]t is not necessary for salvation to confess one's faith at all times and in all places, but in certain places and at certain times, when, namely, by omitting to do so, we would deprive God of due honor, or our neighbor of a service that we ought to render him ... [And] [t]here is nothing commendable in making a public confession of one's faith, if it causes a disturbance among unbelievers without any profit either to the faith or to the faithful" (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae II-II, 3, 2, resp. & ad. 3).
Rebukes usually only work coming from a friend or respected elder. And there's a difference between a pointed rebuke and mere name-calling.
Christ, of course, is the rightful Lord of all. He also tells us we are in danger of hell if we so much as call our brother a fool.
Recently I came across a useful prayer suggestion. Pray that someone else, not yourself, would correct a person you love who is mired in trouble. The advice was for the case where a direct confrontation from you either has not solved the issue or is unlikely to solve the issue. I believe it was over at Catholic Answers.
A very popular Catholic blogger, Ann Barnhardt, regularly refers to gay men as “faggots”. And even though I am a gay man who attends Courage and is embracing traditional Catholic teaching on same-sex attraction, I find it hard not to take offense over this (still, we are talking about a woman who, with a straight face, posts photos of herself posed with a pink-colored AR 57). Keep fighting the good fight though, Michael, you more than make up for creeps like dear Ann, and I have already linked In Defense of Humanity (an instant classic, IMHO) to the Rod Dreher commentary diaspora on Discord. Leave the insults to the saints among us; the rest of us should just focus on those roof beams stuck under our eyelids.
Interesting essay and mostly I agree with you. I disagree, though, about "refusing even to sit at table" with people whose sins we consider to be worse than our own. A holy person knows that there is no such thing as a sinner whose sins are greater/worse than his own. The more aware we become of our own sins the more inclined we must become to show the utmost kindness and courtesy -- not, though, conviviality -- to those whose sins, though perhaps more obvious to us, are clearly not yet obvious to them. A sinner turns a blind eye to the moral implications of his/her choices and decisions; s/he must do so or s/he could not continue to indulge in and commit them. The more we see of our own inner selves the more we ought to be able to see within others. Love is what saves us; love alone can save the others. Love sees and does not condone but love also does not condemn.
Thank you for this thoughtful post MWD, I will need to spend some time digesting this. I suppose another way to say this might be (to paraphrase St. Paul) anything undertaken in true charity (i.e. love for the other person and a desire for their communion with God prompted by the Holy Spirit) is permissible--against such things there is no law. But...one must be so very close to God oneself to act out of such Charity.
Something to add to my Lenten confession, this post caused me to think of a particular example from my youth of which I had largely forgotten, when I had approached someone with (what I thought then) to be a pious rebuke, but upon later reflection, realized it was primarily an exercise in vanity. It is all too easy to do! To have the discernment of a St. Paisios, there is no logical proof or worldly codex that will ever get one there. The only thing is to know Christ so well, that we might see with the eyes of the Holy Spirit and not our own.
I love the way you have portrayed the strength of weakness here. It is always an edifying pleasure to read your words.
Nor do I want to be.
There are two important points to be made. First, whether a hardened sinner receives a stern rebuke with docility or resists it, depends to a great on his temperament and his relationship to the one correcting him. Ironically, it is often, though not always, those of a more choleric temperament who accept harsh words better. And he is always more likely to be docile if he already respects his corrector. Second, even if the sinner needs to hear harsh words, the corrector may not benefit from speaking those harsh words, unless he speaks them in a spirit of true humility.
There is a story about St. Francis de Sales--I wish I could remember where I read it but I think it comes from Jean Pierre Camus--about a correction he received as a boy. Even though St. Francis is known as being among the meekest and kindest of the saints, he confided many times to his friends that he had struggled for years to conquer the deadly sin of wrath. Even until the end of his life, he used to scratch the underside of his desk when he felt himself becoming annoyed so as to avoid losing his mild composure. In any event, as a choleric boy he benefited from harsh treatment at the hands of his father. St. Francis had stolen a valuable item from a household servant, not because he needed money, but simply for the thrill of stealing. Suspicion fell on another servant and the innocent servant was at the point of being punished. St. Francis's conscience was pricked and so he confessed his sin to his father. His father, however, perceiving a deep pride that he wanted to root out as thoroughly as possible, then gathered the entire household and gave a thrashing to his son. Later, St. Francis said that this punishment was the best lesson he had learned from his father.
However, even if St. Francis learned humility from this lesson, it seems that his father did not. For years St. Francis's relationship with his father was strained because his father's ambition was for him to become a great statesman and they barely spoke after St. Francis renounced his inheritance to become a priest.
I think it’s dangerous for any Christian to get in the habit of using insults but, knowing myself, I think it’s particularly dangerous for me to do it. I am someone who has a sharp tongue (and pen) and I know that I am tempted to use both to prove I’m right. And the sense of self-satisfaction and self-righteousness I get from writing or saying something witty when refuting (and often really insulting) is definitely bad for my soul. I don’t know you in real life but I sense from your writings you struggle (or at least used to struggle) with this same tendency. Thanks for writing this! We’re learning to be kinder together. I know I need it!
"Only a Sith deals in absolutes..." Sorry, couldn't help myself. An important exegetical principle, I am not Jesus! I'm the sinner, the leper, the blind man in the story. It's so hard to keep my eyes on my own sins and desperate need. It's deeply uncomfortable. Whereas, focusing on others allows me a convenient distraction. "I thank you Lord that I am not like that guy over there!" It's the old "log and spec" situation.
I'm reminded of a quote from Rumi,
"Before you speak, let your words pass through three gates:
Is it true? Is it necessary? Is it kind?”
Seems like a solid standard by which to determine if something needs to be said or not.
Great post. Thanks, Michael.
Mostly when we criticize others it’s to make ourselves look better in comparison. If we do it in a real spirit of love and concern for the other, it may be justified. But, as you wrote, discernment is tricky unless one is well on the way to sainthood!
So glad you started this project, Michael. It's always thought-provoking. God bless.
What are you trying to alleviate in your readers, or perhaps yourself, with this ignoble gem?
“… No offense, dear reader! It’s just that living saints are few and far between these days, and they probably wouldn’t waste their time reading my Subtack.”
Seems to be out of harmony with your thesis. Can’t see how pleasing God is found within this. And for saints what really distinguishes when they were breathing from after that stopped?
You do consider the saints you have referenced intercede on our behalf? Do you realize that means that they are surely a part of your greater audience?
Just with that in mind, that these saints to whom we look for guidance are hearing us, could make the helpful insult more affable.
Strictly speaking God may not "need" anyone or anything, but it is is true that God acts through his creation, which may include us too at times. We cannot and should not just sit around on our diffs waiting for gaudy miracles.