What is a person? We will begin our response to that important question with a negative reply. A person is not a gift of the state. It is not within the power of the state, or of any other human institution, to confer personhood, the status of being a human person, on whomever it may choose. For any state to suppose it has such power is for it to assume a stance of the most wanton kind of arrogance. It is to perform an act of supreme recklessness and gross injustice. And yet that is precisely what the Supreme Court of the United States did in 1973. In a dark masterpiece of Orwellian logic, the court, after claiming that it was not within its competence to make any pronouncements as to when human life begins, then, by the actual judgment it made, arbitrarily precluded the possibility that human life could begin before the birth of a child.

Since that fatal decision we have gone even farther down the road of mindless nihilism. The court, by legalizing abortion on demand, has effectively invested every adult citizen with the specious right of deciding who is and who is not a human person. And now, not only do we assume the power to confer or withhold personhood, we take it upon ourselves to withdraw it as well. Woe to the deathly sick and the maim and the mentally retarded, for they stand in constant danger of being declared non-persons, and therefore subject to extermination, because they fail to qualify as persons according to standards which are purely utilitarian.

Personhood begins at the very beginning, at the moment of conception. And it is indeed conferred. It is a gift, but a gift of God, not of man. The fact is indisputable that as soon as sperm conjoins with ovum and that minute cell called the zygote comes into being, there is genetically a new human being. That it is a human being cannot be disputed, for what other kind of being could ever be generated by human parents? And it is a human being who is in no way to be confused with the human being who is the mother or with the human being who is the father.

So, from the moment of conception we have dwelling within the mother what is incontestably a distinct, individual human being, a human being minuscule in size, but a human being who has, at that moment, encompassed within its tiny physical self, everything it takes to be an adult human being. It all begins right there, and it is all there right from the beginning. It might be helpful to apply here the philosophical concept of potency. There are two ways of being, actual and potential, and they are both real. An acorn is an actual acorn, but it is also a potential oak tree. To call an acorn a potential oak tree is not simply to wax poetical and indulge in metaphorical language. It is literally true that an acorn is right now potentially an oak tree, meaning that, properly planted, and all conditions subsequently being favorable, it will in fact one day be an oak tree.

The tiny human being dwelling within a woman’s body at the very beginning of its life is chock full of potential. But note very carefully what must be understood about that tiny being’s potential. It is by no means a potential human being. It is an actual human being ab initio, right from the beginning. The potential of that tiny creature is with respect to its adulthood. Though at the moment it is at the humblest and most precarious stage of its life, bearing the rather unprepossessing name of “zygote,” it is nonetheless, at that moment, potentially an adult. That is the thunderously astonishing reality. Every adult human being now living began nowhere else but right there. That is where Dante and Shakespeare and Mozart began. That’s where Our Lady began. That’s where Christ Our Lord began. We have to impress upon ourselves the surpassing importance of this critical fact: potential being is real being. The adult human being is there, in potentia, potentially real, right from the beginning.

But one might say: I agree, given everything that we now know about genetics, that it cannot be denied that what we have from the moment of conception is a human being and nothing else. But we are concerned here with personhood. It is one thing to say that a human being is there right from the beginning, but can we say that a human person is there right from the beginning?

To which I would reply: What else could we say? How could one possibly divorce the notion of human being from human person? What would it mean, in philosophical or theological terms, to be (a) a human being, and (b) not a human person? In fact, as I hope will be made clear by what I will have to say in the following article, the two simply cannot be divorced without lapsing into incoherence. A human being is either at one and the same time a human person, or it is in fact not a human being at all.

If one is going to take the position that it is possible that the tiny zygote must necessarily be recognized as a human being, but not necessarily recognized as a person, then one has a very large difficulty on one’s hands. One is conceding that there exists a tiny creature who is, here and now, a potential adult human being but not a person. What then? The answer would doubtless be: a potential person. The idea is that we are human beings right from the beginning, but not human persons right from the beginning. Personhood is something we grow into. We become persons. Personhood is not a gift, but an accomplishment.

But this line of reasoning won’t do. Recall that the potential with which the tiny zygote is invested is with respect to its adulthood, not with respect to its status as a human being. It does not grow into a human being; it is a human being who grows. To claim that human personhood is not there right from the beginning, that it is something the human being grows into, is to make personhood something apart from a flesh and blood human being. In philosophical terms, it would make of personhood an accidental feature of humanness, rather than something that is essential to it. In other words, it would make personhood an element that is added on to human nature, rather than being, what in fact it is, an integral and inextricable part of it.

And of course if one does not concede that personhood is there right from the beginning—because to be a human being means to be a person—then there arises the insuperable problem as to when a human being becomes a human person. If a human being is not a person from the first moment of conception, if a human being only develops into the status of personhood, then where is the magic line that is crossed from mere human being to human person, and, more pointedly, who draws that line?

As soon as personhood is divorced from human nature as such, a Pandora’s box of evils is opened. When personhood is not accepted as a “given,” as that which is present from the beginning, then personhood becomes a status which is arbitrarily conferred, or withheld, by those with power over this tiny human creature, and according to criteria that have nothing to do with the ontological realities of the situation. “Choice” becomes a matter of choosing who is and who is not a human person. And those who are not so chosen are condemned to death at the very dawn of their lives.

Dr. Dennis Q. McInerny’s articles have been published in the FSSP North American District Newsletter many times through the years and will soon be published in the upcoming book Perennial Wisdom Volume II by Fraternity Publications.

March Reflection
by Fr. Eric Flood, FSSP District Superior

Throughout the liturgical year of the Church, the life of Christ is presented to our minds and hearts so that we are inspired to revolve our life around the life of Our Lord. The glorious feasts of Our Lord, like Easter and Christmas, we celebrate with joyful festivities, but the joy of being Catholic should resound the entire year. During Lent while we remember the sufferings and trials of Our Lord, our joy must radiate amidst our fasting, and no greater day does our heart resound with joy than on the day Our Lord resurrected from the dead.

This joy should permeate our entire lives and overflow into all our actions. Whatever happens throughout the day, we remain content, serene, and joyful. Those who traveled with the great pioneer Priest, Fr. De Smet, said that they never saw him become dismayed at bad weather, harsh conditions, or adversities. He accepted all as coming from the providential hand of God. As a result, his days were filled with peacefulness, even though he witnessed atrocities around him. We learn from Fr. De Smet that if our lives conform to God’s holy will, our reward will be a joy and peacefulness which resides deep in our Soul.

This joy, however, can be destroyed by anger, resentment, and bitterness—especially if these feelings have dwelt in our heart for years. Holding on to grudges and dislikes, harboring vengeful thoughts, and being contentious will take their toll on our Soul. The end result is that the person lacks peace and joy in his life, and he is like a wounded soldier in the Church Militant which only charity can repair.

There is no greater bulwark for our joy than our Catholic Faith. To suffer and to undergo the temptations of this life lose their value if they are not endured out of love for God, our neighbor, or our self. How can we imitate Christ if we live without suffering? How can we imitate Christ if our sufferings are not accompanied with joy? St. Paul reminds us that “whatever shall befall the just man, it shall not make him sad” (Rom. 8:28). Those who love God will remain content and joyful because their entire happiness rests upon the fulfillment of the will of God, even in adversities.

Our role, then, is to have joy not only in our hearts, but to radiate this joy outwardly in our attitude, expressions, and relations with other people. As God’s providential hand is multiplying the number of Latin Masses around the globe, we rejoice that the traditional liturgy can be more easily attended by those desiring to worship the Triune God in this form of Holy Mass.

There are still many faithful clamoring for the Latin Mass in their area, but our hope remains firm that the Latin Mass and the Church’s traditions will regain their vigor in God’s time. It gives those places with the Latin Mass, a reason to rejoice, for it is victory over the evil one every time a Priest ascends the steps of the altar. Likewise Mass is a source of joy for the Souls in attendance as the greatest of all the Sacraments— Holy Eucharist—is the fountain of joy for the Soul. St. Thomas Aquinas teaches that a person is joyful when he is in possession of what he loves, and the end-result for those who love God above all things is that they possess joy in their Soul. So let our joy be seen by all men.

This article originally appeared in the March 2008 North American District Fraternity Newsletter. Click here to receive our free newsletter by mail.

Television is not a true relief.

Parents be wary

Sense Overload

For Immediate Release

Press Release
Special EWTN Live Interview with the Priestly Fraternity of Saint Peter

DENTON, Nebraska – February 1st , 2010 – On Wednesday night, February 24th, EWTN favorite, Fr. Mitch Pacwa, will be interviewing two members of the Priestly Fraternity of Saint Peter, Father Calvin Goodwin and Deacon Rhone Lillard.

The topic of the interview will be the Pontifical Consecration of the Fraternity’s newly built chapel at Our Lady of Guadalupe Seminary which EWTN is televising live on Wednesday, March 3rd at 11:00am (EST). His Excellency, Bishop Fabian Bruskewitz of Lincoln, Nebraska , will celebrate the Pontifical Consecration and Mass according to the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite.

The ancient ceremony will be in the presence of William Cardinal Levada, Prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. Joining Cardinal Levada, will be several bishops from around the United States.

Watch EWTN Live online on Wednesday, February 24th at 8:00PM (EST)!
www.ewtn.com/audiovideo

Media Contact
Father Joseph Lee, FSSP
Our Lady of Guadalupe Seminary
7880 West Denton Road
Denton, Nebraska 68339
phone (402) 570-2707
emailjlee@gmail.com

About the Priestly Fraternity of St. Peter

Established in 1988 by Pope John Paul II, the Priestly Fraternity of Saint Peter is a Society of Apostolic Life of Pontifical Right. The Priestly Fraternity of Saint Peter strives to serve the Catholic Church by means of its own particular role, the sanctification of priests through the faithful celebration of the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite. Through the spiritual riches of the Church’s ancient Roman liturgy, the priests of the Fraternity seek to sanctify those entrusted to their care. The Priestly Fraternity instructs and trains its priests to preserve, promote, and protect the Catholic Church’s authentic liturgical and spiritual traditions in over 16 countries worldwide. The Fraternity has over 200 priests and 125 seminarians studying in its two international seminaries in Bavaria, Germany and Denton, Nebraska.

About EWTN

Founded by Mother Angelica, the EWTN Global Catholic Network, now in its 28th year, is available in more than 150 million television households in more than 140 countries and territories. EWTN is the largest religious media network in the world.

On the Fridays of Lent, The faithful receive a plenary indulgence, if they recite the prayer before a crucifix, the indulgence is a partial indulgence any other time.

In addition, on any of the Fridays of Lent, one can devoutly recite after Communion the prayer “En ego, O bone et dulcissime Iesus” before a crucifix. From the context, it is imperative to do so after receiving Communion, during thanksgiving, to receive the plenary indulgence.

In Latin

En ego, o bone et dulcissime Iesu,
ante conspectum tuum genibus me provolvo,
ac maximo animi ardore te oro atque obtestor,
ut meum in cor vividos fidei,
spei et caritatis sensus,
atque veram peccatorum meorum paenitentiam,
eaque emendandi firmissimam voluntatem velis imprimere;
dum magno animi affectu et dolore tua quinque
vulnera mecum ipse considero ac mente contemplor,
illud prae oculis habens,
quod iam in ore ponebat tuo1 David propheta de te,
o bone Iesu: Foderunt manus meas et pedes meos:
dinumeraverunt omnia ossa mea.
Amen.

In English

Look down upon me, good and gentle Jesus,
while before Thy face I humbly kneel and,
with burning soul,
pray and beseech Thee
to fix deep in my heart lively sentiments
of faith, hope and charity;
true contrition for my sins,
and a firm purpose of amendment.
While I contemplate,
with great love and tender pity,
Thy five most precious wounds,
pondering over them within me
and calling to mind the words which David,
Thy prophet, said of Thee, my Jesus:
“They have pierced My hands and My feet,
they have numbered all My bones.”
Amen.

Alternate Version

Behold, O good and sweetest Jesus,
I cast myself upon my knees in Thy sight,
and with the most fervent desire of my soul
I pray and beseech Thee to impress upon my heart
lively sentiments of faith, hope and charity,
with true repentance for my sins
and a most firm desire of amendment.
Whilst with deep affection and grief of soul
I consider within myself and mentally contemplate
Thy five most precious wounds,
having before mine eyes that which David,
the prophet, long ago spoke concerning Thee,
“They have pierced My hands and My feet,
they have numbered all My bones.”
Amen.

Detraction
February 2004

It is no small offence to deprive a man of his good name, but that is precisely what we do when we commit the sin of detraction. Saint Thomas captures the essence of that sin with a crisp two word Latin phrase, mordere famam, which could be rendered fairly accurately as “chewing up a reputation.” The detractor’s unseemly intention is to attack the good name of his victim, and thereby to lower the man’s estimate in the eyes of others.

To fill out the definition of detraction we need to add the element of secrecy. The detractor sets out to defame another in secret. What this means, specifically, is that (a) the victim of the detraction is absent, and (b) he is ignorant of what is being done to him in his absence. Detraction is secret, then, only with respect to its victim. Beyond that, it can be very much a public affair. Given the realities of modern communication, someone may be detracted before an audience numbering in the thousands or even the millions. Saint Thomas explains that one of the reasons the detractor goes about his detracting business in the absence of his victim is that he lacks the courage to denigrate the man to his face.

It is just the fact that a man’s reputation is attacked in his absence that distinguishes detraction from contumely. In spelling out that distinction in precise terms, St. Thomas calls attention to two ways by which we can wound people by our words. We can do so behind their backs: that is detraction. Or we can do so to their presence: that is contumely.

Quite often, when people are called to task for detracting someone, they will defensively retort by saying, “But it’s true!”—as if that somehow justified what they were doing. It doesn’t. The fact that the bad things we say about others in their absence are true does not mean that our saying them does not constitute detraction. Granted, we can detract people by lying about them, in which case we would only be compounding the evil we are perpetrating, but usually the information which is grist for the mill of detraction is true information. And it is just that which makes it so damaging.

Regarding detraction in terms of its effects, the principal one to be considered is the harm which is done to the good name of the person who is the victim of the detraction. Just what is this “good name” (“nomen bonum,” in the Latin of St. Thomas) that the detractor seeks to undermine, and which suffers damage at his hands? We say that every man is entitled to his good name. This means, at the most basic level, that every person deserves to be given the benefit of the doubt. In other words, every person should be able to expect, in justice (i.e., with regard to what is due to him as a person) to be regarded by others as possessed of elemental human integrity and common decency, and to be respected accordingly. Any person living and working in a public forum of one sort or another (and that would include every one of us), is entitled to assume that others think well of him. A man’s good name guarantees his status as a respected member of a community.

All of us, or some of us at any rate, have things that are very much part of our factual history, that are considerably less than edifying, and that we would very much prefer not to be made public. If the things in question are serious enough, the fact of their being made public could reduce our moral standing in the eyes of the people with whom we deal on a daily basis, and that, in turn, particularly if we hold a position of authority to which important responsibilities are attached, could diminish the effectiveness of our work.

It was especially because of its potential for adversely affecting the detracted person’s ability to continue to function productively in society that prompted St. Thomas to regard detraction, taken in itself, as a serious sin. If I deprive a man of his good name by revealing something about him which should not be revealed, I can, because of my disclosures, prevent him from effectively fulfilling the duties which accompany his state in life. Generally speaking, detraction has the effect of disrupting the peace of a community, because it sets people against one another. It brings about alienation and even hatred. Saint Thomas uses rather strong language is discussing these effects, comparing a detractor to a murderer. The detractor kills friendships; he poisons goodwill.

I directly commit the sin of detraction when I speak ill of a person with the specific intention in mind of either tarnishing, or destroying, the reputation of that person. But I can also commit the sin of detraction indirectly. I do that when I find myself in a situation where an absent party is being roundly detracted and I sit there with a sinister glint in my eye, maintaining, as St. Thomas pointedly puts it, “a malicious silence.” If the reputation of a person is being wantonly attacked in my presence, I have an obligation to come to the defense of that person’s reputation. Sometimes it is simply cowardice that explains my silence, which is bad enough. But if I am silent because I share the attitude of the detractor toward the one being defamed, then I am complicit in the sin.

To be sure, bad-mouthing people behind their backs is not always a serious sin. There might not be the kind of malice in such talk which would qualify it as genuine detraction. Saint Thomas acknowledges that we human beings have very loose tongues, and we love to gossip. How easily we talk about people in their absence—in itself not a bad thing—and how often that talk tends to be negative rather than positive! Saint James is to be carefully heeded as he warns us of the multitude of difficulties our wagging tongues can get us into.

Does it always constitute a case of detraction if we reveal something bad about a person in that person’s absence? No. In fact, there might be circumstances which positively demand that we do so. Saint Thomas speaks of the requirements of public justice in this respect. For example, if someone knows that an acquaintance of his is engaging in clandestine criminal activity, he has a responsibility to bring that to light. But the point to be made here is that such revelations should be made to the proper authorities, those who are in a position to do something about the information that is given them. It would be wrong to disseminate such information indiscriminately.

Why do we succumb to the sin of detraction? Apart from simply referring the whole matter to the mystery of evil, we could suggest a more concrete explanation by taking note of St. Thomas’s description of detraction as “the daughter of envy.” More times than not, I seek to drag down the reputation of another person through detraction because I am envious of that person’s reputation, and believe that somehow it takes away from my own. In my envy, I manage to convince myself that if I should succeed in lowering his reputation, my own would by that very fact be increased. Of course, such thinking is wonderfully irrational. And it could not be otherwise. As St. Thomas never tires of reminding us, sinful behavior is at bottom irrational behavior. Detraction, like every other sin, is a direct affront to reason.

Dr. Dennis Q. McInerny’s articles have been published in the FSSP North American District Newsletter many times through the years and will soon be published in the upcoming book Perennial Wisdom Volume II by Fraternity Publications.

Hypocrisy
by Dr. Dennis Q McInerny
January 2004

To bring up the subject of hypocrisy is almost automatically to bring up the subject of the Pharisees, for it was the Pharisees whom Our Lord roundly castigated again and again for their hypocritical behavior. Indeed, so close is the connection in our minds between hypocrisy and the Pharisees that we regularly use the term “pharisaical” as a pointed synonym for “hypocritical.”

When we consult St. Thomas Aquinas’s treatment of hypocrisy, we discover that he sees it, regarded generally, as virtually identical with what he calls simulatio. My Latin dictionary provides an illuminating list of definitions for that word, as follows: “a falsely assumed appearance,” “a false show,” “feigning,” “shamming,” “pretence,” “insincerity,” “deceit.” The sum total of the meaning conveyed by that list gives us, I think, a pretty good idea of the nature of the subject which is before us.

We are all capable of acting hypocritically at times, which is just how we act when we attempt to put ourselves forward as something which we are not. But the hope is that none of us are full-time hypocrites. A person who qualifies for the undesirable status of hypocrite would be someone who has become habituated to deceitful behavior. It is a way of life for him. Those who are acquainted with the very high regard St. Thomas had for truth will not be at all surprised to learn that he unhesitantly identifies hypocritical behavior as sinful behavior. Hypocritical behavior is not necessarily mortally sinful, but it can be so. What makes all hypocritical behavior sinful, either mortally or venially, is the fact that it is in its essence an affront to the truth. The hypocrite is, at bottom, a liar.

A lie, St. Augustine tells us, consists in a radical discrepancy between what a man knows and what he says. The liar knows X is Y; he says X is not Y. The hypocrite lies not only with his tongue, but with all of his actions. We can say without being melodramatic about it that the hypocrite’s whole life, everything he does, represents an ongoing lie. The purpose of lying is to deceive. The purpose behind the hypocrite’s elaborate program of calculated deception is to make people believe that he is someone other than he truly is. And, of course, the deceit is aimed in only one direction: the hypocrite intends that people should think him better than he truly is. No hypocrite pretends to be worse than he actually is. To be sure, some people do pretend they are worse than they actually are, but that represents an altogether different problem, which is called false humility.

All sin is sad, but there seems to be something especially sad about the sin of hypocrisy, for it amounts to being nothing more than a concentrated and sustained exercise in shallowness. The committed hypocrite is singularly lacking in depth. There is not much inwardness at all to him. His every effort is dedicated to preserving surface realities, to maintaining a fake facade. He is a consummate actor, but he performs in a drama which, if played out to the end, can be counted as nothing other than a tragedy. For the hypocrite, the show must go on, because, for him, the show is all there is. In castigating the Pharisees, Our Lord called them “whited sepulchres.” They appeared beautiful from the outside, but inside there was but dead men’s bones—that is to say, spiritual lifelessness.

Can a person be designated a hypocrite if he sincerely believes himself to be what in fact he is not? For example, am I a hypocrite if I sincerely believe myself to be a saint, and conduct myself according to that belief, when, in fact, I am the farthest thing from being a saint? According to St. Thomas’s interpretation of the nature of hypocrisy, that would seem not to be an instance of the sin. To understand his reasoning here we must recall that one of the definitions for simulatio which we cited above was insincerity. So, if I sincerely suppose myself to be a saint, I am certainly sorely deluded on that score—and that in itself brings with it a whole host of problems—but I would not be a hypocrite.

For St. Thomas, the genuine hypocrite is one who knows that he is not what he publicly purports to be, and who knowingly sets out to deceive. The hypocrite is devious, but he is not deluded as to the true state of his soul. We can better appreciate this point by keeping in mind the fact that the hypocrite is essentially a liar. That is the core of his identity. A liar cannot really be a liar if he thinks, when he lies, that what he is saying is the truth. Just as the actor on the stage who is playing Hamlet knows that he is not really Hamlet, so the hypocrite, who, let us say, is acting the role of a virtuous person, knows that he is not really a virtuous person. But just as a talented actor can convince an audience that he is really Hamlet, so a dedicated hypocrite can convince the people with whom he associates that they are dealing with a really virtuous person.

The simple fact that there is not perfect harmony between one’s external behavior and one’s inner moral state does not in itself make one a hypocrite. It is only with the perfect that there is perfect harmony between the internal and external man. In discussing this point, St. Thomas suggests the example of a young man who is new to the monastic life and whose edifying external behavior does not reflect his still quite imperfect internal state. But he is not trying to deceive anyone by behaving as he does. Rather, he intends that the systematic efforts he gives to the performance of praiseworthy external actions will have a salutary effect on his internal actions. In other words, he acts as virtuous people act because he earnestly wants to become virtuous himself. To imitate virtuous behavior in order to gain virtue is not to act hypocritically. In fact, it is to act prudently. This way of proceeding was to be highly recommended by the French philosopher Blaise Pascal, some 400 years after the time of St. Thomas.

We are all very alert to the hypocrisy we perceive in other people, considerably less so to the hypocrisy that resides in ourselves. But our reaction in this respect is scarcely limited to the sin of hypocrisy. We typically have eagle eyes for the failures of our fellows, but turn into veritable bats when it comes to seeing how we ourselves fall short of measuring up to the mark. This observation is not to be taken as an invitation to complacency with regard to the real existence of hypocrisy, nor to the very great danger it poses, especially for the Church. But we should have a lively awareness of the large difficulties that attend the accurate identification of hypocrisy. It is one thing to know the correct definition of hypocrisy, it is quite another to be able to specify with certitude an actual instance of it.

To see how that is so, let us remind ourselves that hypocrisy is essentially lying. To know with certainty that a liar is a liar, we have to know that the liar knows that what he is saying is not true. In other words, we have to be able to read minds as well as lips. Reading the minds of others is not only very tricky business but, from a spiritual point of view, extremely risky business. And, in the final analysis, it is not the kind of business any of us should ever want to get into. We would all do well to follow the sage advice of St. John of the Cross, and devote our energies toward the difficult task of developing within ourselves a permanent attitude of tranquil unconcern about the state of soul of other people. Each of us has a full-time job on his hands just trying to keep his own house in order.

Dr. Dennis Q. McInerny’s articles have been published in the FSSP North American District Newsletter many times through the years and will soon be published in the upcoming book Perennial Wisdom Volume II by Fraternity Publications.

(Originally in the February 2010 Newsletter)

During the holy season of Lent, Holy Mother Church encourages us to spend forty days growing in knowledge of ourselves, so that, by our penance, we may better understand the exalted value of the soul over the body. By means of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, the desires of the body are placed in subjection to the higher faculties of the intellect and will: By prayer we elevate our minds to God, by fasting we lessen our desire for pleasure, and by almsgiving we curb our love of money.

By fasting forty days in the desert, Our Lord, too, showed that there are benefits of denying the senses and appetites what is morally permitted them. Furthermore, the saints have testified that the detachment from creation (possessions, people, enjoyments) is absolutely necessary to arrive at perfection, for it is typical that God completes the purification of the soul only after it has expended great time and effort doing so by ordinary means. Thus, it is our obligation to mortify our senses and passions so that the soul’s capacity for her Creator is not otherwise occupied with His creation.

It should be noted that “to mortify” does not mean that we annihilate our senses, appetites, or passions; rather, we practice self-denial or privation in order to orient all desires and appetites towards God and make Him the sole desire (object) of our heart, mind, body, and soul.

Besides the senses and appetites of the body, the higher faculties of the intellect and will must also be purified. The intellect apprehends the true and presents it to the will as a good thing to pursue out of love. Thus, the action of the will is to love what the intellect says is good. But since the fall of Adam, the intellect has been darkened and the will has been weakened to the point where the will is inclined to selfishness and seeks to love that which the intellect can erroneously perceive as a good.

The superiority of the soul over the body means that the mortification of the will—the rational appetite—is even more important than the mortification of the body.

Contrarily, when the will embraces that which it should not, this turning away from God and towards creation is called sin. As sin resides in the will, it is the home of our faults and needs to be purified in order to regain strength to love purely the One Who is All-good, God.

When the free will is not properly ordered, the person lives for himself, seeking his own gratification in this world. Excessive self-centeredness subdues the soul so that sufferings and hardships are not willingly endured; fraternal correction and advice are not heeded; and pride, disobedience, and impatience develop deep roots in the soul. This inordinate self-love causes the person to abhor mortification. To express it in scientific terms, the person thinks that the world is not geocentric or  heliocentric, but rather egocentric.

Hence, it is extremely important to mortify the will to combat pride and to lessen excessive love of self. Ultimately, the more the intellect understands the baseness of anything temporal (for example, the body) compared with the importance of the eternal (our soul, God), the greater the will turns to God in love. For it is only in her humility that the soul recognizes that without God, she is nothing.

As Lent is upon us, the resolution to maintain a stricter guard over our appetites ensures that the intellect and will are properly maintained as the sovereign faculties. In closely examining the giving up of some food, we recognize that there will be a corresponding suffering in the body. The growth in sanctification from this mortification is not so much in the pain itself; rather, it is in the intention of the will to embrace the suffering out of love for God. And such is the power of love (charity): it takes a finite act and produces an infinite value. Hence, in all that we do in daily life, if borne out of love for God or in union with Christ Crucified, the action produces a hundred-fold merit, based upon the charity God sees in our intention. This is why the
widow who gave two mites gave more than all others: it is because she gave out of charity.

But great pain can reside in the will, more so than pain in the body. If a person were to hit us, the physical pain may subside in a few minutes, but deep down inside, the will can hold onto the emotional or intellectual pain. At times, the mind can take this memory and actually increase the suffering so that by recalling the incident, the person increases his pain. If that pain continues to grow in one’s mind or heart, and the will decides to remain offended instead of forgiving, then the mental, emotional, or spiritual health of that person is at risk.

We witness this phenomenon in the Western world: The notion of “I do what I want” is so prevalent that when we have to do something or endure something which we do not want to do, we feel violated or helpless. Such feelings, if not dealt with properly, remove joy from a soul, replace it with anger, bitterness, and even hatred towards other people—or even God. Ultimately, a society which overly emphasizes doing one’s will produces a culture which abhors authority, whether parental, governmental, or ecclesiastical.

For how dare another tell me what I should do? “I have my own will.” This rebellion to get our own way is readily seen in most children in their first years of life. When a child does not get his way, he throws a tantrum. Thus, it is incumbent upon parents to admonish, teach, and lead by example that there are many times in life when we have to do things which we prefer not to do. By such instruction, children will grow up to better respect proper authority, such as their parents and the Church, and thereby to use their will properly to choose good and avoid evil.

Because we live in a world where temptations abound, we are further required continually to monitor our will, chastise it when disordered, and re-direct it to the good when it fails. As this requires mortification, we annually employ the Lenten days of penance to maintain the will within its proper boundaries.

Furthermore, a pure motive for our penitential practices is also necessary for perfect union with God. Penance can be performed for less noble purposes, such as to lose weight or to seek the praise of others, or out of some Stoic attitude that emotions are beneath us. Yet, penance is more meritorious if done for the greater glory of God, or to conform our will to His Divine Will, or to strengthen the will over the senses, appetites, and passions of the body. The renewal of our pure motive will most likely have to be done throughout Lent in order to persevere in our good intention.

Lent is a time of not seeking or wishing anything other than to follow Christ Crucified and to give honor and glory to His Name, for the salvation of souls. So let us follow the advice of St. John of the Cross: “In order to arrive at having pleasure in everything, desire to have pleasure in nothing.”

Recent events at North American Martyrs Parish,  the Fraternity’s apostolate in Seattle, WA, included Confirmation in the traditional Roman rite in mid-December, the first time in the archdiocese in over 40 years! Archbishop Alex Brunett confirmed 28 of the parish’s youth.

Christmas Midnight Mass drew over 400 people and was preceded by a candlelight service of lessons and carols with the blessing of manger. Two weeks later, the parish enjoyed its first wedding of the year with a Solemn High Mass. Prayers and efforts continue to find a permanent home for the parish. Holy Mother of God, pray for us!

This article an excerpt from the upcoming March 2010 issue of the FSSP North American District Fraternity Newsletter.  To receive our free monthly newsletter by mail and see more photos and articles please visit our newsletter page.