I love Pope Francis, and I pray for him. I do not particularly follow news from the Vatican or pay attention to any intrigue in the hierarchy. I know that we have some drama going on, but that is Our Lord’s, Saint Joseph’s, and the hierarchy’s to sort out.
Just as the bishops are the successors to the apostles, I am the successor to the peasant women who had no idea what was going on in the temporal part of the central Church. They just sanctified themselves and their families as best they could. They lived their faith as best they could. Catholicism is perfect, though “us Catholics” are not. We have the fullness of the Truth. I try not to be distracted from that fact. Where else would I go?
I’m not judging others who spend time on those issues. Judging the state of others’ souls is not part of my peasant Catholic life. My life is about trying my best to grow in faith, hope, and charity and assisting as many people as I can into heaven through prayers and mortifications.
If I look, there are a myriad ways I am the successor to the peasant women who have lived their faith throughout Church history. When I garden, I can imagine I am doing so in rural Bavaria or Ireland from whence my people came. I shop at the farmer’s market among women who tend their homes and children as we have for generations. I know from whom I buy my food, and they know me. I visit with a beloved friend once a week, and we discuss how our families are doing and offer prayers for all our intentions. The only difference is that I talk to her via video chat rather than across our back fence. My daughters and I write letters, longhand, to each other.
But we live in the Internet age. Information, much of dubious quality, is passed among large groups at lightning speed. The dopamine hits people get from the constant pings from cell phones remind me of the drug “soma” in Brave New World which controls the population. Videos come across my feed regularly that state that someone “owned” someone else in a debate. Commentators make fun of people rather than ideas. Cancel culture runs rampant and is only occasionally checked by sanity. Outrage online sometimes seems like the default position of much of the population.
The primary way that the medieval women might have been tempted toward the modern sin of social media outrage was through gossip. Gossiping gives one a dopamine hit and also allows a person to feel morally superior to those about whom we share information. Even calling it sharing information can undermine our understanding of how toxic this vice can be. Is what we “know” actually true? Is it helpful? Will it damage a friendship or especially faith?
“But I know things!” cries my pride. “Really?” Answers my humility. Am I tempted to make pronouncements? Do I allow news of the Church or the state of our country to unsettle me? Do I read stories online when I should be doing laundry? Do I fret during my prayers?
In short: yes.
What I see in the news about the hierarchy is, I imagine, a very small percentage of what is actually happening and what any member of the clergy is saying. I also do not speak the primary languages of most of the members of the hierarchy, so I am counting on the members of the news media to translate correctly. Who knows; they might be trusting Google translate.
Staying in my lane requires fortitude, and the current barrage of low-quality, digital information does not help. The more junk I allow into my brain, the more difficult it is to resist distractions and despair. As the matriarch of a large, busy, happy Catholic family I have many blessings to count and much work to do each day. Yet, it would be really easy for me to be sucked into my cell phone regularly. I get many messages through Facebook messenger and Instagram from my loved ones. It’s fun to read them and reply. We laugh a lot. But other things also show up in my feed. The current insanity wishes to take all of us with it. When contemplating whether we are fully insulated from it, I remember a meaningful interaction from the miniseries “Apparitions”.
“You’re an atheist, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“That won’t save you. Something terrible is coming, and it’s coming for all of us.”
Resisting this temptation and making sure that I primarily look at messages at designated times throughout the day rather than any time I hear a ding, requires fortitude. The specific sub-virtue I focus on is longanimity. This at its essence is the ability to wait for God’s goodness. It is depriving ourselves of some temporary pleasure in order to have greater pleasure in the long run.
When I first read about this sub-virtue, I pondered the first descriptor which is “longness of soul.” Hmm. For some reason when I read this Saint Joseph appeared in my imagination. There he was at his work bench. Then he was sleeping. He’s one of the most important figures in salvation history, but he never utters a single word in scripture. As far as I know there have been no apparitions where he spoke either. What does he wish to tell me about the longness I need in my soul? More patience? Obviously. More willingness to work in the quiet of the day? Naturally. More silence? Of course. And with that thought I saw myself in Adoration, completely silent.
I appreciate, and I’m sure my husband appreciates even more than I, the irony of me writing an essay about how I should talk less. Yet here we are.
Perhaps the images mean that I need more of my life to be like my life when I am in Adoration. First, I should always see myself as being in the presence of Our Blessed Lord. Second, I should be still and be absolutely certain that He is God. Finally, I should ignore or avoid any near occasion of sin that would undermine my ability to live both of the great commandments. While I must vote and engage with the culture to the extent that it can matter for the most vulnerable among us, especially the unborn, it must always be with my eyes firmly on the longness of soul that is our eternity. I must work out my salvation, that of my family, and as many of those around us with as much fortitude as I can manage.
Of course, no meditation on fortitude and the state of the world would be complete without contemplating mortifications. I saw a headline the other day about “mortification hacks”. I didn’t click on it because no matter how well intentioned the writer, I am not sure, at this point, that I wouldn’t use it as a way to try to wiggle out of genuine mortifications in my life.
Perhaps that’s because one of the most important things I’ve learned about mortifications over the years is that I need to focus on and fully embrace the ones that God sends me rather than the ones I choose for myself. Yes, I should fast. Yes, I should remove small pleasures sometimes to remind myself of His suffering. But the mortifications that have been outside my control have been the least welcome and the most fruitful. When I don’t want to drop everything and deal with a particular problem that has arisen is when I most need to be obedient and docile. It’s when I most need to engage my fortitude to do His will in my life. I need to be generous and gentle and filled with joy. I need to make everything Adoration. Be still and know that He is God.
Resisting gossip can be a mortification, especially in a world that never stops talking. It’s possible to have nonstop news and fiction blaring into one’s ear 100% of the time. Let’s place ourselves in the presence of Our Blessed Lord at all times and see if that affects how we hear the news of the world.
