Mea Maxima Culpa

One of my favorite religious sisters of all time told me last year that a good way to see how you're doing as a Catholic is to read 1 Corinthians 13, and replace "love" with your name. She said that that's how she gauges how she's doing specifically in her treatment of others, and it gives her a bit of perspective on ways she could do better. I've tried it a few times, and I must say, it's a very humbling experience to start off, "Christina is patien- no she's not... Christina is ki- not really... She is not jeal- who am I kidding here?" I've only done the exercise a few times, mostly because I don't think to do it, but many times because I don't want to face the truth that I likely wouldn't make it past "patient" about 75 or 80% of the time. There is no better reminder of how much you need to improve as a person, especially as a Catholic or other type of Christian, than trying to edit your own name into that chapter.

This was brought to my attention tonight at the Vigil Mass as our Newman Center's chaplain preached to us about speech and its power. Good speech, virtuous speech, carries with it tremendous power. Think of the most moving speech you've ever heard, or a passage from your favorite book, or a line from a movie that you would love to have the chance to say for real one day; these are examples of speech that have the power to make the human soul aspire to the highest imaginable heights. These are the things that make you want to go out and make a difference in the world, to leave it a better place than you found it, and to fulfill that mission you know God destined you for. On the contrary, speech can also have negative power. Think of the last stinging insult you received, a rumor you've heard about yourself, or even editorial remarks you received on a paper at school or a presentation at work; these are things that can not only ruin your day, but can even make you question what you're doing with your life and why you are where you are.

The specific topic of the homily was gossip, which our Newman Center has unfortunately struggled with this year. Our chaplain mentioned that there are many, many references in the Bible to the effects of malicious speech, and that it is strongly condemned in all of them. He specifically mentioned the third chapter of the letter of St. James, which has extremely intense language dealing with speech. St. James literally says, "If anyone does not fall short in speech, he is a perfect man, able to bridle his whole body also." The impulse to say something can indeed be that strong, and if you don't know that, take it from someone who has often been reviled for her big mouth that controlling one's tongue is much more an exercise in willpower than any sort of physical restraint.

James continues to expand upon the idea of controlling one's tongue, and the power it has when he says, "...the tongue is a small member and has great pretensions. Consider how small a fire can set a huge forest ablaze. The tongue is also a fire. It exists among our members as a world of malice, defiling the whole body and setting the entire course of our lives on fire, itself set on fire by Gehenna." For anyone who thinks that is an exaggeration, consider how fast gossip and rumors spread anywhere. There's a good reason we say it spreads like wildfire, and if we're not careful it can consume our lives. Four years ago this month, I had just begun reconciling with some of my friends after six months because of the widespread rumors that they had started about me. My reputation, which was also being trashed at the local public school, would never quite recover from the blow it was dealt then, although what had been said about me was patently false.

Along this same vein, returning to tonight's homily, our chaplain spoke about how we all have been guilty of using our tongues to tear other people down for our own sakes. He noted the gossip, detraction, and calumny that have been going around the Newman Center, not just about students, but about himself. Rumors which, regardless of whether or not they're true, have chased people away from the Catholic community on campus. People hold us to a high standard because of our declarations of belief in Christ crucified and risen, and in the way He taught his followers to live. We call ourselves the city on the hill, but our light is the fire of malicious gossip which has consumed us. He told us, though it should have gone without saying, that this is unacceptable. He took responsibility as the leader of the Newman Center, but did not spare us from remembering our rightful share in the blame for, "...bless[ing] the Lord and Father, and with it [the tongue]... curs[ing] human beings who are made in the likeness of God."

In his discussion of gossip and slander, one of the most shocking things I'd never considered was the statement that gossiping about or slandering a priest is to do the same to Christ Himself. The priest being the alter Christus, this makes perfect sense. I don't know about anyone else in the room, but I was immediately overcome with immense shame for all the times I knew I had disrespected, gossipped about, or slandered a priest. It was a hard pill to swallow, and I hope and pray God that it will make me stop and think before I ever do it again, thoughtlessly as I have done it in the past.

It was a tough homily to hear, even though I was already well aware of all that had been going on to cause our chaplain to preach on the topic. It was a ringing "J'accuse!" from which almost nobody I know of was exempt, and from which no one who hears it tomorrow night will be able to escape his or her share in the guilt. Though it is excruciatingly difficult to accept, I do not want to run from my guilt. I want to take it upon myself and acknowledge that I have been as guilty as any other guilty party in these affairs. It humiliates me to realize that I would never dream of attempting the 1 Corinthians 13 test on myself now, because it would only serve to make me laugh out loud to know how completely I have failed it, and then cry to realize that I'm still celebrating Christ's triumph over the agonizing death He suffered to save me from these sins He knew I'd commit.

However, there is some good news to be had. Namely, that like Christ and in Him I can triumph over my sins, and so can everyone else who has ever partaken of them. In fact, if one can say this about any sin, these have had fortuitous timing. Tomorrow is Divine Mercy Sunday, and anyone who attends Mass tonight for the vigil or tomorrow may gain a plenary indulgence by confessing, receiving the Eucharist, and praying for the Pope within the coming week. I will most certainly avail myself of the opportunity to gain this indulgence, and I hope that everyone reading this blog (especially those who have committed the sins I mention herein) will do so, as well. Normally I try to find someone else to apply plenary indulgences to, since I cannot imagine a nicer surprise than being sprung from purgatory to heaven a little early, but I think this time I will apply it to myself in the hope that considering it necessary will be enough to make me rethink doing this again.

At the end of the verses in which St. James deals with the sins men commit with their tongues and the consequences of those sins, he reminds us that what he has said need not be so. We can change, and indeed we must if we intend to stop committing these sins. He asks, "Does a spring gush forth from the same opening both pure and brackish water? Can a fig tree, my brothers, produce olives, or a grapevine figs? Neither can salt water yield fresh." In short, we cannot expect to produce different fruits if we do not change our fundamental nature in order to do so. Fortunately, it is not so hard for us to hold our tongues as it is for a fig tree to become an olive plant or a grapevine to become a fig tree. With God's mercy and grace we can achieve anything, and there will never be a better time than now to try.