Films can jar the memory

The problem with being a film buff, the more if one's preference is drama, is that some of the best acted presentations can jar deep memories. Yesterday, I saw "The Magdalene Sisters," undoubtedly one of the best-acted and most horrifying films in recent years.

I shall not comment here about the details of the Magdalene laundries - that misery is amply documented elsewhere. Yet, for all that my life is quite different from the unfortunate women who were housed there, certain religious themes presented were all too familiar to me. (In fact, the Order which educated me staffed some of the reformatories and 'penitent' houses in Ireland - though the attitude was hardly exclusive to those in such apostolates.) The idea that one can never atone enough for one's own sins, that suffering and sacrifice (by which I mean that beyond what one encounters naturally in life) is the way to holiness, and the general image of an angry God who must punish us to purge our weakness, is a grim memory I can never seem to shake.

Oddly enough, this in no way corresponds to what I believe, let alone to my intellectual convictions about the faith. But the emotional goblins, introduced at such a young age, indeed do reappear from time to time. I knew full well, viewing "The Magdalene Sisters," that, horrid though the abuse these girls received was, the lives of the nuns were probably no better. The headmistress (I am not about to say warden) reminded me vividly of nuns I knew in youth - capable of charm, humour, and engaging ways, yet brutal. I doubt this was born of hatred. I think those who behaved in this fashion genuinely believed they were saving others from going wrong - perhaps even from hell. Convent life, too often, equally was a way of personal 'redemptive suffering.'

Perhaps that today, when it seems that self-esteem reigns, one's personal desires are exalted, and we have little sense of personal sin at all, it is, at least in part, an over-reaction to the ways that were still popular only a few decades ago.

Franciscans stress 'penance' a good deal, yet, for all that Francis could torture himself (without imposing the same practises on the others), true penance is beautiful - a continuous metanoia. The difference between self-torture and genuine penance are as vast as those between a destructive storm and a peaceful, refreshing bath (heavy on the aromatherapy oils for me, please.) Penance is not inflicting pain. It consists of, first, acknowledging that actions have consequences. Oh, all of us are aware of natural consequences - but, even when there are few or none for an action, the spiritual consequences remain - the intimacy with God is hampered (and not because of a lack of initiative on His part.) Beyond this, it essentially consists in seeking to conform one's life to the gospel.

Is it ever possible to strike the proper balance...