I'm happy to see February nearly at an end - and hoping that warmer weather is ahead very soon. My brain will need at least a month to thaw... in fact, I cannot even remember which popular (and rather silly, IIRC) song contained the line I used as header for this post.
I had previously written of my struggling with the philosophy of religion, enriching and necessary though I find this study. Heaven knows, I have written far more often of how I loathe pop psychology. Today, my circuits having been rather overloaded by reviewing philosophy notes (these related to prayers and miracles), my random thoughts will contain a few reflections on memories which came to me - far from philosophical, I might add.
It is interesting how, as one grows older, one remembers much from the past - but can forget details, and factors which made a past idea, decision, whatever, very reasonable in the context of the 'moment,' even if it's hard to remember those elements clearly now. When I was reviewing the 'miracles' section, it suddenly struck me that, deeply religious though I always was, generally the attitude toward the miraculous was that physical healing (or rising someone from the dead a la Lazarus) was more or less reserved to the New Testament and causes for beatification. (I'll save my experiences from my charismatic days, when there were testimonies to physical healings - none of which would meet Rome's or Hume's definition - at weekly prayer meetings, and when I once saw a perfectly sane and sincere priest try to raise his nephew from the dead... a task all the more difficult to contemplate since his nephew was embalmed.) Anyone of my age or older will remember stories of miracles - but probably only those very devout will have taken them to heart from the beginning. The miracles (in a manner similar to those in anecdotes of the Servant of God Fulton J. Sheen, whom I mentioned in an earlier post) generally were about conversion, not anything defying the laws of nature.
During the 1980s, a small monastery with which I had some connection had Vespers each Sunday, followed by a film presentation of some sort (not Hollywood variety - more filmstrips and little religious subjects, such as one might have seen in the classroom during my youth.) Odd that this should have sparked a memory, but I recall one regarding the green scapular. In this filmstrip, a child whose father was somehow troubled (one is not told how - but he wasn't a churchgoer) confided her worries to a religious Sister, the latter of whom provided her with a green scapular which she placed under her dad's mattress. His conversion was fairly rapid afterward.
I'm not one to oppose devotions by any means! I know there are many people who have great devotion, and express this, in part, by using sacramentals such as scapulars. But, today, I see a very "magical" element to such a story as was in that film. Still, it reminds me of a powerful idea to which the very devout were often exposed, whether in sermons, lectures, articles, books, and the like. The power of Christ can lead to great transformation in a life. (And I believe that wholeheartedly!) The other element was that He often can use individuals as instruments (which I'm not about to question, essentially, either - there certainly have been influential people in my own life.) These ideas, fine in themselves, could lead to difficulties if one would, for example, meet the con man, the psychopath, the hardened criminal, the habitual liar...
I read this so many years ago that I cannot even recall the book's title, but it was one of a genre very popular in recent decades: the "I was rescued from Christianity" sort (and these had the greater bestseller potential if the author had been a priest or Religious.) The author, whom I believe was called Carol, had belonged to a religious community which had visiting people in their homes as their apostolate. From her writing of the days she spent with them, I gathered that the principal intention of their visits was to reach out to those who were not practising Catholics. Though the Sisters made reports of where they visited, and I believe might refer unusual cases to other sources, most of their contact consisted of informing those who were not churchgoers of Mass schedules (I'm sure neither the Sisters nor those whom they met thought a lack of same was the reason anyone did not attend church, but it had its welcoming side), or enquiring about whether children had been baptised, made first communion, and so forth.
Carol expressed certain frustration - which I can well understand. (Though, as I'll get to in a moment, I equally understand her congregation's care about not getting too involved with those whom they visited, and having prohibitions on the circumstances in which a Sister could meet others.) I would imagine that, during her visits, she met people who were very troubled, perhaps longing for spiritual guidance which Carol could not provide - nor did she have anyone to whom to refer them. It must have been difficult, hearing people raise legitimate questions, but knowing one could only repeat the teachings (at most.) I can see where, if someone seemed to be a huge mess but leaning towards conversion, one might shake one's head to think that all with one could provide him was a schedule of services.
In the course of her ministry, a young man named Manuel, a clearly rough sort (to put it mildly - he once tried to attack Carol in a hallway), asked Carol for a personal meeting. He seemed interested in Christ and the Church, and I would bet my last penny, if I had one, that Carol hoped she had been an instrument of Christ's boundless power, and that Manuel was on verge of conversion. Though meeting in this fashion was against the rules of her institute, she agreed, and was to see him the following Wednesday.
Apparently, in Carol's community, which did not staff institutions, transfers at any time were common enough. On Friday, she received word that she was being sent to another house the following day. Carol was troubled that her meeting with Manuel would not happen, the more because she could not contact him, nor have anyone else inform him that she would not be there (given that it was against the rules for her to attempt this meeting at all.)
Far be it from me to ever think the voice of a superior is a voice of God (well, at least not any more than any of us ever are) - but this is one situation where I think the Holy Spirit may have given Carol's superior a nudge. Several months later, when Carol was on a visit, she saw a newspaper - and Manuel was in the headlines. He was a gang leader, arraigned on multiple murder charges.
God only knows what pop psychology (or even psychiatrists - see my previous post about Karen Armstrong's work) would make of this, but one who has always been devout, always anxious to be an instrument, might understand Carol's initial reaction to that headline. No - it was not "thank heavens I never met with Manuel privately - he may have cut my throat, since he was quite good at doing that elsewhere." She was pained, thinking that Manuel had been on the verge of conversion, and that, had she had a chance to meet with him, perhaps these crimes would never have happened.
Of course, there are many factors here. Carol had no experience dealing with criminals, and I would imagine that, though her community had rules restricting meetings, she may well have never been given an explanation of the important reasoning behind such rules beyond "that is what we do." In my own experience, though I fortunately have not dealt with too many sociopaths and criminals (...and have great scars from the few I did meet), some of the most dangerous people on earth are capable of enormous charm, warmth, and seeming sincerity. Indeed, there are many people (perhaps a majority of the devout) who do desire solid spiritual guidance - and many who have had experiences of conversion which they will always cherish. It is a shame that those who have been burnt by the sociopaths too often retreat to a cave (speakign figuratively) and tell others needing help to join groups or go to therapy...
Certainly, part of spiritual maturity is realising our own limitations. God indeed can use us as instruments (though I doubt we know it at the time), but zeal and charity require a balance of prudence and discernment. Yet I am mentioning this incident because the devotees of the pop psychology could assume that those like Carol had no good in their actions (and the psychiatrists can convince them later that they were totally selfish, deluded, thinking themselves saviours, and so forth. To believe in God, or even to be a churchgoer, is acceptable because it fits in with convention. Anything beyond that is an 'obsession' or symptom.)
Carol's degree of naivete is hardly universal amongst the devout, but neither is it unusual. I have known people, in many different situations (by no means only nuns!), who have been used, swindled, lied to, and so forth, when they were seeking to practise virtue. Yet they should not be assumed to be crazy, or to be thinking of themselves as powerful. It was Christ's power they saw as infinite - and, with all the tales of miraculous conversions of which we heard (not just those of, let us say, Francis, Augustine, or oneself - but of the uninterested who had the good luck to have daughters who placed scapulars under their mattresses), we saw such miracles as not only possible but likely, and hoped our desire to be there for others would lead them to the Christ for whose sake we were doing this.
And now, good readers, you probably have a vague idea of why I've been an utter fool many times in my life... and why I don't have a penny (the reason not solely being that what one gives in tithes is not returned a hundredfold...) ... and why I keep my reflections to blogs and now restrict my ministry, such as it is, to liturgical prayer and occasional essays. :) I've met a few Manuels in my day (though even I, admittedly, never met with anyone who'd tried to physically attack me). I care about them, but I'm not the one to serve them - I'm far too innocent, and have no gift for discernment in the least.
Yet I have never been the sort who could just keep to placing green scapulars under mattresses... ;)
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