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Fear

Fear is the body reading a threat as near — the breath shortens, the skin tightens, the attention collapses onto the single thing that might do harm. It arrives faster than thought and is rarely wrong about the fact of danger, only sometimes about its size. Vela reads fear as a primary emotion, distinct from the anxiety it shades into, and follows the writers who have written from inside it rather than about it from a safe distance.

Working definition · Threat-focused arousal—danger, loss, or harm feels proximate or plausible.

10570 passages · 1 Vela essay · in 1 cluster

Vela’s read on this emotion

Fear is one of the few emotions the body insists on before the mind has a vote, and that priority is the first thing the reading respects. Fear is not cowardice and not weakness; it is the oldest of the alarm systems, and the writers worth following have treated it as testimony rather than as something to be talked out of.

The reading is densest where fear has been lived under, not merely felt. Anne Frank's diary keeps fear as a daily condition — the specific dread of the footstep on the stair — held alongside the ordinary business of being fifteen. Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning reads fear inside the camps without flattening it into a lesson. The literature of illness and the body — the memoir written from inside a diagnosis — holds the particular fear of one's own body becoming the threat. The contemplative inheritance treats fear as a serious subject across centuries: the fear of the Lord in the Hebrew scriptures is closer to awe than to terror, and the distinction is one the reading keeps.

Fear is not the same as anxiety, dread, or terror. Fear has an object the body can point to; anxiety is fear without a fixed address, braced against what might come. Dread is fear stretched forward in time, waiting. Terror is fear past the point where action remains possible. The four are kin and the reading keeps them apart, because the difference is the difference between what the body can do and what it can only endure.

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Long-form guide in the magazine

An essay on how this word lives in language, in the tagged corpus, and in figurative art when curators pair passage with image — not a list of stages, not permission to feel.

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Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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10570 tagged passages

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    AUGUSTINE. (Tr. xliv. 8) Here he is like one anointed, but unable yet to see: he preaches, and knows not what he preaches. BEDE. Thus he represents the state of the catechumen, who believes in Jesus, but does not, strictly speaking, know Him, not being yet washed. It fell to the Pharisees to confirm or deny the miracle. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lvii. 2) The Jews, whom they asked, Where is He? were desirous of finding Him, in order to bring Him to the Pharisees; but, as they could not find Him, they bring the blind man. They brought to the Pharisees him that aforetime was blind; i. e. that they might examine him still more closely. The Evangelist adds, And it was the sabbath day when Jesus made the clay, and opened his eyes; in order to expose their real design, which was to accuse Him of a departure from the law, and thus detract from the miracle: as appears from what follows, Then again the Pharisees also asked him how he had received his sight. But mark the firmness of the blind man. To tell the truth to the multitude before, from whom he was in no danger, was not so great a matter: but it is remarkable, now that the danger is so much greater, to find him disavowing nothing, and not contradicting any thing that he said before: He said unto them, He put clay upon mine eyes, and I washed, and do see. Ho is more brief this time, as his interrogators were already informed of the matter: not mentioning the name of Jesus, nor His saying, Go, and wash; but simply, He put clay upon mine eyes, and I washed, and do see; the very contrary answer to what they wanted. They wanted a disavowal, and they receive a confirmation of the story. Therefore said some of the Pharisees. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. xliv. 9) Some, not all: for some were already anointed. But they, who neither saw, nor were anointed, said, This man is not of God, because he keepeth not the sabbath day. Rather He kept it, in that He was without sin; for to observe the sabbath spiritually, is to have no sin. And this God admonishes us of, when He enjoins the sabbath, saying, In it thou shall do no servile work. (Exod. 20:10) What servile work is, our Lord tells us above, Whosoever committeth sin, is the servant of sin. (c. 8:34) They observed the sabbath carnally, transgressed it spiritually.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    AUGUSTINE. (Tr. xciii) But what evil was it to the Apostles to be put out of the Jewish synagogues, which they would have gone out of, even if none had put them out? Our Lord wished to make known to them, that the Jews were about not to receive Him, while they on the other hand were not going to desert Him. There was no other people of God beside the seed of Abraham: if they acknowledged Christ, the Churches of Christ would be none other than the synagognes of the Jews. But inasmuch as they refused to acknowledge Him, nothing remained but that they should put out of the synagogue those who would not forsake Christ. He adds: But the time cometh, that whoever killeth you, will think that he doeth God service. Is this intended for a consolation, as if they would so take to heart their expulsion from the synagogues, that death would be a positive relief to them after it? God forbid that they who sought God’s glory, not men’s, should be so disturbed. The meaning of the words is this: They shall put you out of the synagogue, but do not be afraid of being left alone. Separated from their assemblies, ye shall assemble so many in my name, that they fearing that the temple and rites of the old law will be deserted, will kill you, and think to do God service thereby, having a zeal for God, but not according to knowledge. These who kill, are the same with those who put out of the synagogues, viz. the Jews. For Gentiles would not have thought that they were doing God service, by killing Christ’s witnesses, but their own false gods; whereas every one of the Jews, who killed the preacher of Christ, thought he was doing God service, believing that whoever were converted to Christ, deserted the God of Israel. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxxxviii) Then He consoles them: And all these things will they do unto you, because they have not known the Father nor Me. As if He said, Let this consolation content you. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. xciii) And He mentions these things beforehand, because trials, however soon to pass away, when they come upon men unprepared for them, are very overwhelming: But these things have I told you, that when the hour shall come, ye may remember that I told you of them: the hour, the hour of darkness, the hour of night. But the night of the Jews was not allowed to mix with or darken the day of the Christians.

  • From Great Authors of the Western Literary Tradition (2004)

    228 Lecture 32: Petrarch On Illustrious Men was begun about the same time and reveals the same kinds of historical interests. Petrarch completed 24 lives of Romans, from Romulus to Julius Caesar, then added biblical and mythical fi gures. Once again, he drew moral examples from actual accounts of people’s lives. Books That Must Be Remembered is a philosophical essay structured as a “temple of Wisdom” and aiming to comment on the cardinal virtues. He completed only the introduction and three books on prudence. Once again, the work is full of moral examples. Petrarch also complains about works that have been allowed to disappear or that were neglected. His Guide to the Holy Land is a practical guide for pilgrims but bristles with literary allusions. Petrarch wrote several deeply personal treatises, including The Solitary Life, Religious Leisure, Penitential Psalms, and the Remedies of Good and Ill Fortune. Petrarch’s greatest, most intimate treatise, the Secret Book, was written after a number of crises in his life. Petrarch never published the work, but posterity has esteemed it. The book purports to be three days of discussions between Petrarch and Augustine. The dialogues treat the need to prepare for eternal life, an examination of the deadly sins (and the degree to which Petrarch committed them), and the reasons that Petrarch cannot meditate properly on love and death. Augustine tells him that Petrarch’s love for Laura diverts him from the creator to the creation and that he is too eager for worldly glory. Petrarch argues that Laura is his inspiration and ideal and that there is a place for worldly glory. Petrarch also wrote several harsh invectives, the most famous of which ( On His Own Ignorance and That of Many Other Men ) is his attack on Aristotelian philosophers, scholasticism, and dialectical reasoning. Finally, there are Petrarch’s hundreds of letters. He arranged his collections as follows: Letters on Familiar Matters (350), concluding with his letters to ancient fi gures; Letters of His Later Years (125); Various Letters (57); and Metrical Letters (100+), letter-poems in hexameters. Petrarch continually revised his letters—as he did all his works— and used them to create and “manage” his own autobiography. Essentially, the letters reveal three things about Petrarch: his concern with style (and he was a master stylist); his

  • From Great Authors of the Western Literary Tradition (2004)

    448 Lecture 66: Gustave Flaubert The surrounding context sets this lyrical dialogue in a world of reality. We already know that Rodolphe has a mistress in Rouen. Even as we hear Rodolphe’s enchanting words, we also hear the stale rhetoric of the public offi cial. Even as Rodolphe squeezes Emma’s hand, we hear about the hands of a little old woman awarded a medal for 54 years of service: hands so fi lthy they can never be cleaned. We hear many different voices in the chapter—all of which shed some light on Emma’s situation. Like the chapter on the fair, Flaubert’s organization of the novel as a whole allows us to see many different relationships as well as the complexity of the heroine’s situation. Cutting back and forth between one conversation and another, Flaubert anticipates modern fi ction and even cinema. Flaubert used this kind of jump-cutting to combat his own tendencies toward Romantic subjectivity. He thought the author should be like God, omnipresent and invisible. The novel juxtaposes the sacred with the sexual and the profane. At one point, Emma prays to God as if he were her lover. While Leon waits for Emma in church, the church seems to him like a gigantic boudoir. As he gets into a cab with Emma to seduce her, a guide begs them to see the biblical sculptures on the north door, including, ironically, the Last Judgment. Emma’s death reveals the helplessness of doctors and the absence of any assurance of salvation but also—once again—the intermingling of dreams and ordinary life. When Emma poisons herself, not even the best doctor available can cure her. Emma’s death is described with a combination of lyrical poignancy and clinical precision. As Emma dies, she overhears a bawdy song that suggests the grim reaper. The song is sung by a blind man she has seen on the road earlier. She sees The novel juxtaposes the sacred with the sexual and the profane. At one point, Emma prays to God as if he were her lover. While Leon waits for Emma in church, the church seems to him like a gigantic boudoir. 449 the beggar’s face as a fi gure of terror. Her fi nal dream springs not from something fantastic but from her response to the ordinary life around her. Thus, Madame Bovary fuses the Romantic imagination with the commonplace facts of ordinary life. ■ Flaubert, Madame Bovary, translated by Francis Steegmuller. ———, The Temptation of St. Anthony, translated by Lafcadio Hearn. Lottmann, Flaubert: A Biography. Vargas-Llosa, The Perpetual Orgy: Flaubert and Madame Bovary, translated by Helen Lane. 1. What is the relation between Emma’s piety and her adulterous urges? 2. How does her affair with Leon differ from her affair with Rodolphe? Essential Reading Supplementary Reading Questions to Consider

  • From Great Authors of the Western Literary Tradition (2004)

    220 Lecture 31: Dante Alighieri—The Divine Comedy “Midway through life’s journey” (that is, at the age of 35—Dante is alluding to Psalm 90: “seventy is the sum of our years”), Dante was wandering in a dark and terrifying forest when he encountered the Roman poet Virgil. Virgil agrees to guide Dante out of the dark forest and far beyond, too. Worried that he is merely brash, Dante asks how he can be worthy: “I am not Aeneas, I am not Paul.” Virgil tells him that he must be, will become, brave, perseverant, and rational. We get a fi rst hint that the poet will destroy his former self. Dante and Virgil approach the mouth of Hell, where they read the inscription: “Abandon hope all you who enter here.” A great irony presents itself: The sinners in Hell—those who died unrepentant—can never leave, but Dante, though a sinner, can amend his ways and escape. Dante also for the fi rst time sees God as a judge, not only as a miracle-worker and creator. Hence, the Comedy will turn on themes of divine justice. Dante and Virgil fi rst encounter those eternally unnamed persons who refused to take chances, to take stands, during their lives. They were never really alive. Then they encounter the righteous pagans—this is the realm where Virgil spends eternity. These people are just in every way except that they do not know God. Dante’s sense of justice is, therefore, absolute. In Canto 5, the intrepid travelers enter Hell and encounter Paolo and Francesca, perhaps the most famous of the denizens of Hell. The Dante protagonist at fi rst is sorrowful at Francesca’s fate, but Virgil steadies him. Francesca’s sin seems small on human terms: Spurred by a French romance, she stole a kiss. But the larger point here is that she subjected reason to passion and degraded the divine spark in her. The Hell of Dante’s imagination is a pit that descends into the earth in a series of concentric circles. Once Dante and Virgil enter Hell proper, the circles represent various kinds of sins. In general, the categories of sins are incontinence, violence, and deception. On a moral scale, Dante encounters those who succumbed to human appetites, then gradually, those who willed evil. Dante’s way of imagining sins is intriguing. Among the violent, we fi nd tyrants, thugs, and brigands but also heretics, blasphemers, sodomites, and

  • From Great Authors of the Western Literary Tradition (2004)

    517 In “The Second Coming,” written in 1920, he reads this con fl ict as a sign that a great cycle of history—a “gyre”—is coming to an end. As prophesied by John’s Book of Revelation, the second coming of Christ is a time of destruction and renewal heralded by the advent of a gigantic beast—the beast of the apocalypse. The Byzantium poems and such poems as “The Circus Animals’ Desertion” further demonstrate the power of Yeats’s vision in the later years of his life. In “Sailing to Byzantium,” (1927), Yeats imagines leaving behind the sensual music of “these dying generations” and losing himself in “the artifi ce of eternity”—works of mosaic art. In “The Circus Animals’ Desertion,” he chides himself for the vanity of his poetic metaphors and freshly resolves to school himself in the gritty facts of life here on earth. In the body of work Yeats has left us, he reveals the undying life of his self- renewing imagination. ■ Yeats, Yeats’ s Poetry, Drama, and Prose, edited by James Pethica. Jeffares, W. B. Yeats: A New Biography, rev. ed. Ellmann, Yeats: The Man and the Masks. 1. Taken together, what do “September 1913” and “Easter 1916” tell us about Yeats’s response to Irish nationalism? 2. What do Yeats’s late poems reveal about his conception of himself? Questions to Consider Supplementary Reading Essential Reading

  • From The Unexpected Legacy of Divorce: A 25-Year Landmark Study (2000)

    But when we talk to them, they’re profoundly distressed. In addition to their concern over the suffering of one or both parents and their resentment at having to take care of a grieving or angry parent, the divorce sends shock waves through their world. Suddenly they are propelled into examining their own relationships and into wondering and worrying what and who they can rely on and for how long. This is another way that the high incidence of divorce affects us all. In the absence of a long remarriage, children of divorce don’t get to see married people struggle over the life course. Most have no experience in observing their parents as a couple reacting to illness or helping buffer each other from the stresses of work and home or the changes of getting older. It is an additional loss that is hardly ever noted. I AM GRATEFUL to both Karen and Gary for sharing their stories with such honesty and integrity. By telling us about their lives for the last twenty-five years, they paint a vivid portrait of what it was like to come of age in America’s crazy divorce culture. The fact that both are in stable marriages, raising children as a priority in their lives, bodes well for a society that is so often worried about its future. As we are about to see in coming chapters, other children of divorce and others raised in intact marriages have had very different experiences from Karen’s and Gary’s, with very different outcomes. PART TWO The Legacy of Violence: Larry and Carol P SEVEN The Wages of Violence eople commonly think there is a “his” divorce and a “her” divorce—two versions of the same events that hardly seem alike. But there is a third version, as valid and divergent as the others. It’s the “child’s view” of divorce. The child’s experience would astonish both parents ... if they knew. LARRY REMEMBERS the last night of his parents’ marriage in violent fragments, as if the memories had been cut into sections with a sharp knife and inserted deeply into his brain. He was not quite seven years old, small enough to crouch under the stairwell but big enough to realize what was happening. His father, who was drunk, followed his mother from room to room, slapping her across the face and upper body, screaming at her for sins Larry could not comprehend. The beatings had been going on for three years until that night, when his mother decided she had had enough. After her husband stomped out, she scooped up Larry and his younger sister and went to spend the night at a motel.

  • From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)

    She wasn’t a large woman, but there was something commanding about her presence—I couldn’t help but watch her as she moved carefully through the doorway toward the metal detector. She walked more slowly than everyone else, but she held her head high with an undeniable grace and dignity. She reminded me of older women I’d been around all my life—women whose lives were hard but who remained kind and dedicated themselves to building and sustaining their communities. Mrs. Williams glanced at the available rows to see where she would sit, and then turned to walk through the metal detector—and that’s when she saw the dog. I watched all her composure fall away, replaced by a look of absolute fear. Her shoulders dropped, her body sagged, and she seemed paralyzed. For over a minute she stood there, frozen, and then her body began to tremble and then shake noticeably. I heard her groan. Tears were running down her face and she began to shake her head sadly. I kept watching until she turned around and quickly walked out of the courtroom. I felt my own mood shift. I didn’t know exactly what had happened to Mrs. Williams, but I knew that here in Alabama, police dogs and black folks looking for justice had never mixed well. — I was trying to shake off the dark feeling that the morning’s events had conjured when the officers brought Walter into the courtroom. Because there was no jury, the judge had not permitted me to give him street clothes to wear, so Walter was wearing his prison uniform. They allowed him to be in the courtroom without handcuffs but had insisted on keeping his ankles shackled. Michael and I conferred briefly about the order of witnesses as the rest of McMillian’s family and supporters slowly filed through the metal detector, past the dog, and into the courtroom. Despite the State’s early-morning maneuvers and the bad omen of the dog and Mrs. Williams, we had another good day in court. Evidence from the state mental health workers who had dealt with Myers after he initially refused to testify in the first trial and was sent to the Taylor Hardin Secure Medical Facility for evaluation confirmed Myers’s testimony from the day before. Dr. Omar Mohabbat explained that Myers had told him then “that the police had framed him to accept the penalty for the murder case that he is accused of or ‘to testify’ that ‘the man did.’ ” Mohabbat reported that Myers “categorically denied having anything to do with the alleged crime. He claimed, ‘I don’t know the name of this girl, I don’t know the time of the alleged crime, I don’t know the date of the alleged crime, I don’t know the place of the alleged crime.’ ” Mohabbat testified that Myers had told him, “They told me to say what they wanted me to say.” Evidence from other doctors further confirmed this testimony.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    Objection 2: Further, by the gift of fear we fear either to be separated from God, which pertains to “chaste” fear—or to be punished by Him, which pertains to “servile” fear, as Augustine says (In Joan. Tract. ix). But Christ did not fear being separated from God by sin, nor being punished by Him on account of a fault, since it was impossible for Him to sin, as will be said ([3941]Q[15], AA[1],2). Now fear is not of the impossible. Therefore in Christ there was not the gift of fear. Objection 3: Further, it is written (1 Jn. 4:18) that “perfect charity casteth out fear.” But in Christ there was most perfect charity, according to Eph. 3:19: “The charity of Christ which surpasseth all knowledge.” Therefore in Christ there was not the gift of fear. On the contrary, It is written (Is. 11:3): “And He shall be filled with the spirit of the fear of the Lord.” I answer that, As was said above ([3942]FS, Q[42], A[1]), fear regards two objects, one of which is an evil causing terror; the other is that by whose power an evil can be inflicted, as we fear the king inasmuch as he has the power of putting to death. Now whoever can hurt would not be feared unless he had a certain greatness of might, to which resistance could not easily be offered; for what we easily repel we do not fear. And hence it is plain that no one is feared except for some pre-eminence. And in this way it is said that in Christ there was the fear of God, not indeed as it regards the evil of separation from God by fault, nor as it regards the evil of punishment for fault; but inasmuch as it regards the Divine pre-eminence, on account of which the soul of Christ, led by the Holy Spirit, was borne towards God in an act of reverence. Hence it is said (Heb. 5:7) that in all things “he was heard for his reverence.” For Christ as man had this act of reverence towards God in a fuller sense and beyond all others. And hence Scripture attributes to Him the fulness of the fear of the Lord. Reply to Objection 1: The habits of virtues and gifts regard goodness properly and of themselves; but evil, consequently; since it pertains to the nature of virtue to render acts good, as is said Ethic. ii, 6. And hence the nature of the gift of fear regards not that evil which fear is concerned with, but the pre-eminence of that goodness, viz. of God, by Whose power evil may be inflicted. on the other hand, hope, as a virtue, regards not only the author of good, but even the good itself, as far as it is not yet possessed. And hence to Christ, Who already possessed the perfect good of beatitude, we do not attribute the virtue of hope, but we do attribute the gift of fear.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    PSEUDO-CHRYSOSTOM. Not Christ only is led into the desert by the Spirit, but also all the sons of God who have the Holy Spirit. For they are not content to sit idle, but the Holy Spirit stirs them to take up some great work, i. e. to go out into the desert where they shall meet with the Devil; for there is no unrighteousness wherewith the Devil is pleased. For all good is without the flesh and the world, because it is not according to the will of the flesh and the world. To such a desert then all the sons of God go out that they may be tempted. For example if you are unmarried, the Holy Spirit has in that led you into the desert, that is, beyond the limits of the flesh and the world, that you may be tempted by lust. But he who is married is unmoved by such temptation. Let us learn that the sons of God are not tempted but when they have gone forth into the desert, but the children of the Devil whose life is in the flesh and the world are then overcome and obey; the good man, having a wife is content; the bad, though he have a wife is not therewith content, and so in all other things. The children of the Devil go not out to the Devil that they may be tempted. For what need that he should seek the strife who desires not victory? But the sons of God having more confidence and desirous of victory, go forth against him beyond the boundaries of the flesh. For this cause then Christ also went out to the Devil, that He might be tempted of him. CHRYSOSTOM. But that you may learn how great a good is fasting, and what a mighty shield against the Devil, and that after baptism you ought to give attention to fasting and not to lusts, therefore Christ fasted, not Himself needing it, but teaching us by His example. PSEUDO-CHRYSOSTOM. And to fix the measure of our quadragesimal fast, he fasted forty days and forty nights. CHRYSOSTOM. But He exceeded not the measure of Moses and Elias, lest it should bring into doubt the reality of His assumption of the flesh.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    It is enjoined upon the faithful to pray that the kingdom of God may come, namely, that they subject themselves completely to Him. But it is a terrible thing for sinners, because for them to ask the coming of God’s kingdom is nothing else than to ask that they be subjected to punishment: “Woe to them that desire the day of the Lord!” By this prayer, too, we ask that death be destroyed. Since Christ is life, death cannot exist in His kingdom, because death is the opposite of life: “And the enemy, death, shall be destroyed last.” “He shall cast death down headlong forever.” And this shall take place at the last resurrection: “Who will reform the body of our lowness, made like to the body of His glory.” In a second sense, the kingdom of heaven signifies the glory of paradise. Nor is this to be wondered at, for a kingdom (“regnum”) is nothing other than a government (“regimen”). That will be the best government where nothing is found contrary to the will of the governor. Now, the will of God is the very salvation of men, for He “will have all men to be saved”; and this especially shall come to pass in paradise where there will be nothing contrary to man’s salvation. “They shall gather out of His kingdom all scandals.” In this world, however, there are many things contrary to the salvation of men. Hence, when we pray, “Thy kingdom come,” we pray that we might participate in the heavenly kingdom and in the glory of paradise.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    On the third point: one who receives faith from God without receiving charity is not entirely healed of infidelity, since the guilt of his former infidelity is not removed. He is healed partially only, so that he ceases from such sin. For it often happens that a man desists from one act of sin through God causing him to do so, but is prevented from desisting from another by the impulsion of his own iniquity. Thus God sometimes gives a man the gift of faith without the gift of charity, just as he gives to some men the gift of prophecy, or something similar, without charity. QUESTION SEVEN THE EFFECT OF FAITHWe must now consider the effects of faith, concerning which there are two questions, 1. Whether fear is an effect of faith. 2. Whether purification of the heart is an effect of faith. ARTICLE ONE Whether Fear is an Effect of Faith1. It seems that fear is not an effect of faith. For an effect does not precede its cause. But fear precedes faith, since it is said in Ecclesiasticus 2:8: “ Ye that fear God, believe in him. ” Hence fear is not an effect of faith. 2. Again, the same thing is not the cause of contrary effects. Now it was said in 12ae, Q. 23, Art. 2, that fear and hope are contraries, and the gloss on Matt. 1:2, “ Abraham begat Isaac, ” says that “ faith begets hope. ” It follows that faith is not the cause of fear. 3. Again, one contrary is not the cause of another. Now the object of faith is something good, namely, the first truth. But it was said in 12ae, Q. 18, Art. 2, that the object of fear is something evil, while it was also affirmed in the same passage that actions take their species from their objects. It follows that faith is not the cause of fear. On the other hand: it is said in James 2:19: “ the devils also believe, and tremble. ”

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    2. Again, initial fear fears punishment, which is the object of servile fear. Thus it seems that initial fear is the same as servile fear. But servile fear is other than filial fear. Hence initial fear is substantially other than filial fear. 3. Again, a mean differs equally from both extremes. Now initial fear is a mean between servile fear and filial fear. It therefore differs from both of them. On the other hand: the perfect and the imperfect do not diversify the substance of a thing. Now as Augustine explains (Tract. 9 in Joan.), initial and filial fear differ in respect of the perfection and the imperfection of charity. Hence initial fear does not differ substantially from filial fear. I answer: fear is said to be initial because it is a beginning. Both servile fear and filial fear may in a manner be called initial, since each of them is in a manner the beginning of wisdom. Initial fear is not so called because it is distinct from servile and from filial fear. It is so called because it applies to the state of beginners, in whom filial fear is begun through the beginning of charity, but is not in them perfectly since they have not yet attained to the perfection of charity. Initial fear thus bears the same relation to filial fear as imperfect charity bears to perfect charity. Now perfect and imperfect charity do not differ in their substance, but only in their state. We must therefore say that initial fear, as we here understand it, does not differ substantially from filial fear. On the first point: as Augustine says (Tract. 9 in Joan.), the fear which is the beginning of love is servile fear, which introduces charity, as the bristle introduces the thread. If this refers to initial fear, it means that fear is the beginning of love not absolutely, but in so far as it is the beginning of the state of perfect charity. On the second point: initial fear does not fear punishment as its proper object. It fears punishment because something of servile fear is conjoined with it. When its servility has been removed, the substance of servile fear remains, together with charity. The act of servile fear remains, together with imperfect charity, in one who is moved to do well not only by love of justice, but also by fear of punishment. But this act ceases in one who has perfect charity, since “ perfect love casteth out fear ” (1 John 4:18). On the third point: initial fear is a mean between servile and filial fear as the imperfect is a mean between perfect being and not-being, as it is said in 2 Metaph., text 7, not as a mean between two things of the same genus. Imperfect being is the same in substance with perfect being, but differs altogether from not-being. ARTICLE NINE

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    (3.) In the third place, that we similarly walk in the midst of three pits. (1) Woman, or luxury: “The mouth of a strange woman is a deep pit: he that is abhorred of the Lord shall fall therein,” Prov. 22:14. Gloss., the “abhorred of the Lord” is the son of wrath. He who embraces the words or kisses of a strange woman knocks as at the door of an abyss, and unless he draws back his feet, restraining his members, he will fall into that penal pit into which none except the son of wrath falls down. (2) Gluttony and drunkenness: “Who falls into pits,” Prov. 23:29, Vulg. “Who hath redness of eyes? They that tarry long at the wine, they that go to seek mixed wine,” Prov. 23. (3) The grief of the hypocrites and evil-doers: “There shall the great owl make her nest” [Vulg. “hole”], Isa. 34:15, Gloss. The owl signifies the double dealers, who hide intentions under the thorns of duplicity. “The foxes have holes,” &c., S. Matt. 8:20. On account of the danger of snares, we ought ever to walk cautiously before the Lord, that He Himself may draw our feet out of the trap. S. Augustine says, “I resist the seducers that my feet may not be entangled by which I walk in Thy way, and I will lift up to Thee the invisible eyes that Thou mayest draw my feet out of the snare. Whence dost Thou draw them, for if they seek Thee Thou ceasest not to lift them up. But I, therefore, run where the snares are scattered abroad.” On account of the danger of robbers we ought to walk cautiously, armed for walking with all spiritual arms. “Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand in the evil day, and having done all to stand,” Ephes. 6:13. On account of the dangers of pitfalls, we ought to walk cautiously, ever walking with gravity and by the light of grace: “Let us walk honestly as in the day,” Rom. 13:13. HOMILY XL THE LORD’S ARMIES AND THEIR WORK TWENTIETH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.—(FROM THE GOSPEL)“He sent forth His armies and destroyed those murderers.”—S. Matt. 22:7. IN these words the Lord speaks in a parable of the perdition of the ungodly which is about to be in the judgment, and marks here three things. Firstly, the great power of God: “He sent forth His armies.” Secondly, His severe justice: “He destroyed His murderers.” Thirdly, the perverse wickedness of the reprobate: “those murderers.”

  • From Collected Essays (1998)

    Owing to the way I had been raised, the abrupt dis comfort that all this aroused in me and the fact that I had no idea what my voice or my mind or my body was likely to do next caused me to consider myself one of the most depraved people on earth. Matters were not helped by the fact that these holy girls seemed rather to enjoy my terrified lapses, our grim, guilty, tormented experiments, which were at once as chill and joyless as the Russian steppes and hotter, by far, than all the fires of Hell. Yet there was something deeper than these changes, and less definable, that frightened me. It was real in both the boys and the girls, but it was, somehow, mor e vivid in the boys. In the case of the girls, one watched them turning into matrons before they had become women. They began to manifest a curious and really rather terrifYi ng single-mindedness. It is hard to say exactly how this was conveyed: something im placable in the set of the lips, something farseeing (seeing what?) in the eyes, some new and crushing determination in the walk, something peremptory in the voice. They did not tease us, the boys, any more; they reprimanded us sharply, saying, "You better be thinking about your soul !" For the girls also saw the evidence on the Avenue, knew what the price would be, for them, of one misstep, knew that they had to be protected and that we were the only protection there was. They un derstood that they must act as God's decoys, saving the souls of the boys for Jesus and binding the bodies of the boys in marriage. For this was the beginning of our burning time, and "I t is better," said St. Paul-who elsewhere, with a most unusual and stunning exactness, described himself as a "wretched man"-"to marr y than to burn ." And I began THE FIR E NE XT TIME to feel in the boys a curious, wary, bewildered despair, as though they were now settling in for the long, hard winter of life. I did not know then what it was that I was reacting to; I put it to myself that they were letting them selves go. In the same way that the girls were destined to gain as much weight as their mothers, the boys, it was clear, would rise no higher than their fathers. School began to reveal itself, therefore, as a child's game that one could not win, and boys dropped out of school and went to work.

  • From Collected Essays (1998)

    Their silence frightened me. Martin Luther King, Jr., had promised to have a car meet me at the airport. There was no car in sight, but I had the phone number of the Montgomery Improvement Association-if I could find a phone, if I could get past the men at the wire. It was eerie and instructive to realize that, though these were human beings like myself, I could not expect them to respond to any TAKE ME TO THE WATER 401 human request from me. There was nothing but space behind me, and those three men before me: I could do nothing but walk toward them. Three grown men: and what was the point of this pathetic, boys-together, John Wayne stance? Here I was, after all, having got on a plane with the intention of coming here. The plane had landed and here I was-and what did they suppose they could do about it now? short, of course, of murdering every black passenger who arrived, or bombing the airport. But these alternatives, however delectable, could not lightly be undertaken. I walked past them and into the first phone booth I saw, not checking to sec, and not caring whether I had entered the white or the black waiting room. I had resolved to avoid incidents, if possible, but it was already clear that it wouldn't always be possible. By the time I got my number, they watching me all the while, the MI A car drove up. And if the eyes of those men had had the power to pulverize that car, it would have been done, exactly as, in the Bible , the wicked city is leveled-I had never in all my lif e seen such a concentrated, malevolent poverty of spirit. The Montgomery blacks were marching then, remember, and were in the process of bringing the bus company to its knees. What had begun in Montgomery was beginning to happen all over the South . The student sit-in movement has yet to begin. No one has yet heard of Jamcs Foreman or James Bevel. We have only begun to hear of Martin Luther King, Jr. Malcolm X has yet to be taken seriously. No one, except their parents, has ever heard of Hucy Newton or Bobby Scale or Angela Davis.

  • From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)

    When he woke up, he was in an upside-down car on the side of the road. He went home that night and never sought medical assistance. His girlfriend later told his family that at first he just seemed a little off. Then he started hallucinating and exhibiting increasingly bizarre and erratic behavior. He stopped sleeping regularly, complained about hearing voices, and on two occasions ran out of the house naked because he thought he was being chased by wasps. Within a week of the accident he had stopped speaking in sentences. Just before his mother, who lived in Montgomery, was summoned to help persuade him to go to a hospital, George boarded a Greyhound bus in the middle of the night. He traveled as far as the money he had in his pocket would take him. Disoriented and uncommunicative, he was forced off the bus in Hurtsboro, Alabama, after unnerving some passengers by talking loudly to himself and gesturing wildly at objects he imagined were flying around him. The bus had gone through Montgomery, where he had family, but he stayed on until he was thrown off, with no money and wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and no shoes in the middle of January. He wandered around Hurtsboro and eventually stopped at a house. He knocked on the door, and when the homeowner opened it, George walked inside without being invited and roamed around until he found the kitchen table, where he sat down. The alarmed homeowner called her son, who came and physically removed George from the house. George went to another home owned by an older woman and did the same thing. She called the police. The officer who responded had a reputation for being aggressive, and he forcefully removed George from the home. George started resisting while being pulled to the police car, and the two men began wrestling and fell to the ground. The officer pulled his weapon and the two were grappling over the gun when it discharged, shooting the officer in the stomach. He died from the gunshot wound. George was arrested and charged with capital murder. While in the Russell County jail, he became acutely psychotic. Officers reported that he wouldn’t leave his cell. He was observed eating his own feces. His mother visited him, but he didn’t recognize her. He couldn’t speak in complete sentences. The two lawyers who were appointed to represent him at his capital trial were primarily concerned that only one of them would be paid the $1,000 for out-of-court time that Alabama provided lawyers appointed in capital cases. They began squabbling with each other, and one filed a civil suit against the other about who could claim the money. Meanwhile, the judge sent George to Bryce Hospital in Tuscaloosa for a competency examination.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    On the contrary, It is written in praise of certain men (2 Macc. 15:18): “Nicanor hearing of the valor of Judas’ companions, and the greatness of courage [animi magnitudinem] with which they fought for their country, was afraid to try the matter by the sword.” Now, only deeds of virtue are worthy of praise. Therefore magnanimity which consists in greatness of courage is a virtue. I answer that, The essence of human virtue consists in safeguarding the good of reason in human affairs, for this is man’s proper good. Now among external human things honors take precedence of all others, as stated above [3348](A[1]; [3349]FS, Q[11], A[2], OBJ[3]). Therefore magnanimity, which observes the mode of reason in great honors, is a virtue. Reply to Objection 1: As the Philosopher again says (Ethic. iv, 3), “the magnanimous in point of quantity goes to extremes,” in so far as he tends to what is greatest, “but in the matter of becomingness, he follows the mean,” because he tends to the greatest things according to reason, for “he deems himself worthy in accordance with his worth” (Ethic. iv, 3), since his aims do not surpass his deserts. Reply to Objection 2: The mutual connection of the virtues does not apply to their acts, as though every one were competent to practice the acts of all the virtues. Wherefore the act of magnanimity is not becoming to every virtuous man, but only to great men. on the other hand, as regards the principles of virtue, namely prudence and grace, all virtues are connected together, since their habits reside together in the soul, either in act or by way of a proximate disposition thereto. Thus it is possible for one to whom the act of magnanimity is not competent, to have the habit of magnanimity, whereby he is disposed to practice that act if it were competent to him according to his state. Reply to Objection 3: The movements of the body are differentiated according to the different apprehensions and emotions of the soul. And so it happens that to magnanimity there accrue certain fixed accidents by way of bodily movements. For quickness of movement results from a man being intent on many things which he is in a hurry to accomplish, whereas the magnanimous is intent only on great things; these are few and require great attention, wherefore they call for slow movement. Likewise shrill and rapid speaking is chiefly competent to those who are quick to quarrel about anything, and this becomes not the magnanimous who are busy only about great things. And just as these dispositions of bodily movements are competent to the magnanimous man according to the mode of his emotions, so too in those who are naturally disposed to magnanimity these conditions are found naturally.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    Objection 2: Further, whosoever exposes himself to danger sins. But he who renounces all he has and embraces voluntary poverty exposes himself to danger—not only spiritual, according to Prov. 30:9, “Lest perhaps . . . being compelled by poverty, I should steal and forswear the name of my God,” and Ecclus. 27:1, “Through poverty many have sinned”—but also corporal, for it is written (Eccles. 7:13): “As wisdom is a defense, so money is a defense,” and the Philosopher says (Ethic. iv, 1) that “the waste of property appears to be a sort of ruining of one’s self, since thereby man lives.” Therefore it would seem that voluntary poverty is not requisite for the perfection of religious life. Objection 3: Further, “Virtue observes the mean,” as stated in Ethic. ii, 6. But he who renounces all by voluntary poverty seems to go to the extreme rather than to observe the mean. Therefore he does not act virtuously: and so this does not pertain to the perfection of life. Objection 4: Further, the ultimate perfection of man consists in happiness. Now riches conduce to happiness; for it is written (Ecclus. 31:8): “Blessed is the rich man that is found without blemish,” and the Philosopher says (Ethic. i, 8) that “riches contribute instrumentally to happiness.” Therefore voluntary poverty is not requisite for religious perfection. Objection 5: Further, the episcopal state is more perfect than the religious state. But bishops may have property, as stated above ([3791]Q[185], A[6]). Therefore religious may also. Objection 6: Further, almsgiving is a work most acceptable to God, and as Chrysostom says (Hom. ix in Ep. ad Hebr.) “is a most effective remedy in repentance.” Now poverty excludes almsgiving. Therefore it would seem that poverty does not pertain to religious perfection. On the contrary, Gregory says (Moral. viii, 26): “There are some of the righteous who bracing themselves up to lay hold of the very height of perfection, while they aim at higher objects within, abandon all things without.” Now, as stated above, ([3792]AA[1],2), it belongs properly to religious to brace themselves up in order to lay hold of the very height of perfection. Therefore it belongs to them to abandon all outward things by voluntary poverty.

  • From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

    AUGUSTINE. (Tr. xxviii. 5) They gave Him advice to pursue glory, and not allow Himself to remain in concealment and obscurity; appealing altogether to worldly and secular motives. But our Lord was laying down another road to that very exaltation, viz. humility: My time, He says, i. e. the time of My glory, when I shall come to judge on high, is not yet come; but your time, i. e. the glory of the world, is always ready. And let us, who are the Lord’s body, when insulted by the lovers of this world, say, Your time is ready: ours is not yet come. Our country is a lofty one, the way to it is low. Whoso rejecteth the way, why seeketh he the country? CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. xlviii. 2) Or there seems to be another meaning concealed in the words; perhaps they intended to betray Him to the Jews; and therefore He says, My time is not yet come, i. e. the time of My cross and death: but your time is always ready; for though you are always with the Jews, they will not kill you, because you are of the same mind with them: The world cannot hate you; but Me it hateth, because I testify of it, that the works thereof are evil: as if He said, How can the world hate them who have the same wishes and aims with itself? It hateth Me, because I reprove it. I seek not then glory from men; inasmuch as I hesitate not to reprove them, though I know that I am hated in consequence, and that My life is aimed at. Here we see that the hatred of the Jews was owing to His reproofs, not to His breaking the sabbath. THEOPHYLACT. Our Lord brings two arguments in answer to their two charges. To the charge of fear He answers, that He reproves the deeds of the world, i. e. of those who love worldly things; which He would not do, if He were under the influence of fear; and He replies to the charge of vain glory, by sending them to the feast, Go ye up unto this feast. Had He been possessed at all with the desire for glory, He would have kept them with Him: for the vain glorious like to have many followers. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. xlviii. 2) This is to shew too, that, while He does not wish to humour them, He still allows them to observe the Jewish ordinances. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. xxviii. 5. 8) Or He seems to say, Go ye up to this feast, and seek for human glory, and enlarge your carnal pleasures, and forget heavenly things. I go not up unto this feast; CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. xlviii. 2) i. e. not with you, for My time is not yet full come. It was at the next passover that He was to be crucified.

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