Pride As Defense

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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• From The Best American Erotica 2001 (2001)

  WADE KRUEGER That's Awful, That's Nothing xj p on deck for a smoke break, we'd taken up the topic of aggression between brothers. It was the four of us: Birnauer, Hampton, Foster and I. A homely bunch of E-ls off the coast of Crete, our first Med cruise. The talk was charged with the heat of masculine competition. To have suffered the most un der a brother was to have an edge on the others. Plus, we’d de cided to make it interesting. Whoever won, we’d buy him drinks the whole time on the island. It had been decided, for no particular reason, that I should go first. “My brother had access to sausage,” I said. “Not patties but links. He worked in an Italian place. He’d bring home great long hoses of meat.” “What I wouldn’t give for some sausage,” said Hampton. “Fry it up in a big black skillet,” dreamed Foster. “Poke it with a fork.”

• From The Folding Star (1994)

  "Yes, I do," I said, with a relieved smile that he turned for a second to see, and thought perhaps was satirical. "Oh, I daresay it's very routine to you. I believe it's very busy, what's the word, very cruisy these days." "It's not part of my routine. I've been there once and got completely lost and freezing cold and had . . ."—well, I mustn't mistake brutality for honesty. "I had a hopeless time. I've sometimes thought of going back in the daylight, just to look at the trees, but I've never quite got round to it." "It is a lovely park. There's only a fragment of the Hermitage itself left, very badly restored"—his confidence quickened with that professional phrase—"but fine avenues and a canal, and the remains of a round garden with a basin that is fed by a natural spring, and alcoves of yew—it's like a three-dimensional Fragonard." "Yes, I think I saw all of that on my, probably rather drunken, peregrinations." "I just heard someone mention it at school," said Paul, with a swift compression of time that it took me a moment to catch up with. "I pretended to take no notice, but like a lot of the boys I was fairly preoccupied with all that. This boy said that someone in the town, a shopkeeper who was very obliging to the Germans, was always going there in the evening. He went on with quite a detailed account, until he started to get funny looks—You know, it seemed he knew too much." He gave me a quick smile that was all at odds with the expression of his eyes. "Anyway, the idea took hold with me. I became somewhat obsessed with the Hermitage, though I knew I would never dare ask about it directly; I used to provoke other people into mentioning it, and then make a great thing about how I'd never want to go there. Which, of course, is what I finally did, one Saturday evening in early May of 1944; and not before establishing elaborate alibis to Maurice and Lilli and stuffing my head with excuses in case I should meet anyone I knew. As I told you before, we all found we were quite brave in the war, but I had only been brave up to then in obvious common causes—never for myself. I was almost running up to complete strangers to explain what I was pretending to be doing." I laughed and thought of running out late to Dawn, under the wood's edge; I felt a certain delicacy, as if the tables were turned, and held back from contributing my own oddly similar anecdotes in support of what he said. I thought I'd quite like to see photographs of him at that age. There was something of the same self-conscious bravery in him now.

• From The Best American Erotica 2001 (2001)

  Several people spoke at once. Fatefully, it was Jennifer who raised her voice and continued to speak. “How can you think a woman could really enjoy something like that? How would you like performing oral sex on a dozen women you hardly know, one right after the other?” I felt a little lurch in my stomach. Back then, I had a sort of policy of always speaking my mind and telling the truth, no matter what. I think I was under the influence of some subver sive writer. Walt Whitman, or maybe it was Ayn Rand. “I’d love it,” I said. “This may shock you, but that happens to be a deep dark fantasy of mine.” There was a predictable round of laughter. They all thought I was kidding, except for Seth, who isn’t easily fooled. “It might be dark, but it isn’t deep anymore, Steve-O,” said Seth. “It’s right up here on the surface where we can poke it.” “Very funny, Steve,” said Amira in her faint Hindi accent. “But really, come on.” “I’m serious,” I said. “Really. So it doesn’t seem so odd to me that a woman might fantasize about the same thing.” In a loud voice, Jennifer said, “You’re telling me, you would go up to one of the bedrooms right now, and we could go an nounce to everyone you were going to ... going to do a ...” “Taco train?” suggested Brad. “Oh, very nice, Brad. A cunnilingus train, and you would service any woman who went up there?” “Sure,” I said. “But no women would go for it. You chicks are all so dainty and refined. Only men have the sturdy men tal outlook required to take advantage of free, no-strings- attached sex.” “You’re lying,” said Amira. “I bet you wouldn’t do it.” Her voice was accusing, but I noticed a twinkle in her brown eyes. “Oh, I bet he would,” said Seth, winking at me. “Don’t un derestimate our Steve. He’s right, though. None of you women

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

  The twelve degrees mentioned by Bernard are reckoned by way of opposition to the twelve degrees of humility, of which we have spoken above ([3612]Q[161], A[6]). For the first degree of humility is to “be humble in heart, and to show it in one’s very person, one’s eyes fixed on the ground”: and to this is opposed “curiosity,” which consists in looking around in all directions curiously and inordinately. The second degree of humility is “to speak few and sensible words, and not to be loud of voice”: to this is opposed “frivolity of mind,” by which a man is proud of speech. The third degree of humility is “not to be easily moved and disposed to laughter,” to which is opposed “senseless mirth.” The fourth degree of humility is “to maintain silence until one is asked,” to which is opposed “boasting.” The fifth degree of humility is “to do nothing but to what one is exhorted by the common rule of the monastery,” to which is opposed “singularity,” whereby a man wishes to seem more holy than others. The sixth degree of humility is “to believe and acknowledge oneself viler than all,” to which is opposed “arrogance,” whereby a man sets himself above others. The seventh degree of humility is “to think oneself worthless and unprofitable for all purposes,” to which is opposed “presumption,” whereby a man thinks himself capable of things that are above him. The eighth degree of humility is “to confess one’s sins,” to which is opposed “defense of one’s sins.” The ninth degree is “to embrace patience by obeying under difficult and contrary circumstances,” to which is opposed “deceitful confession,” whereby a man being unwilling to be punished for his sins confesses them deceitfully. The tenth degree of humility is “obedience,” to which is opposed “rebelliousness.” The eleventh degree of humility is “not to delight in fulfilling one’s own desires”; to this is opposed “license,” whereby a man delights in doing freely whatever he will. The last degree of humility is “fear of God”: to this is opposed “the habit of sinning,” which implies contempt of God. In these twelve degrees not only are the species of pride indicated, but also certain things that precede and follow them, as we have stated above with regard to humility ([3613]Q[161], A[6]). Whether pride is a mortal sin?Objection 1: It would seem that pride is not a mortal sin. For a gloss on Ps. 7:4, “O Lord my God, if I have done this thing,” says: “Namely, the universal sin which is pride.” Therefore if pride were a mortal sin, so would every sin be. Objection 2: Further, every mortal sin is contrary to charity. But pride is apparently not contrary to charity, neither as to the love of God, nor as to the love of one’s neighbor, because the excellence which, by pride, one desires inordinately, is not always opposed to God’s honor, or our neighbor’s good. Therefore pride is not a mortal sin.

• From The Swimming-Pool Library (1988)

  ‘Thank you, my dear. No, no, no. On the gay thing’ (he unselfconsciously brought it out, seizing a lot of sugar again) ‘they were completely untroubled—even to the extent of having a slight preference for it, in my opinion. Quite unlike all this modern nonsense about how we’re security risks and what-have-you. They had the wit to see that we were prone to immense idealism and dedication.’ Charles sipped his tea excitedly. ‘And of course in a Muslim country it was a positive advantage …’ We laughed at this, though the implications were not quite clear. ‘I’m sure you weren’t such innocents as you make out,’ I said. ‘You must have been trained, after all.’ ‘We read a book about the sort of crops and stuff, and did a bit of Arabic.’ Charles shrugged. ‘And then they sent us up to the Radcliffe Infirmary to watch the operations. The idea was that if you saw a lot of blood and severed limbs and so on it would prepare you in some mysterious way for the tropics. They’d bring in chaps who’d been run over, or undergrads who’d tried to do themselves in, and we all had a jolly good look. Fascinating, in a way, but of no obvious benefit for a career in the Political Service.’ Charles was in knowingly good form. ‘So you simply followed your instincts much of the time?’ ‘Mm—up to a point. There was a tendency to treat Africa as if it were some great big public school—especially in Khartoum. But when you were out in the provinces, and on tour for weeks on end, you really felt you were somewhere else. If you’d had the wrong sort of character you could have gone to the bad, in that vast emptiness, or abused your power. I expect you know about the Bog Barons in the south—truly eccentric fellows who had absolute command, quite out of touch with the rest of the world.’ ‘It sounds like something out of Conrad.’ ‘So it is often said.’ ‘I must say, I see you as more of a Firbankian figure—or at least that’s how you seem to see yourself.’ ‘I don’t know about that …’ Charles rumbled. ‘It’s this idea that rather appeals to me, of seeing adults as children. His adults don’t have any dignity as adults, they’re all like over-indulged children following their own caprices and inclinations …’ ‘Well, I don’t know!’ Charles gave a brusque laugh of disagreement. ‘Don’t you feel that, though? I’m always being struck by it, especially with very grand and humourless people who can’t afford to see that they’re behaving just like prefects. And men are often like that together—I don’t mean … gay men particularly, but the sense I have that men don’t really want women around much. I think most men are happiest in a male world, with gangs and best friends and all that.’ ‘I believe I’ve always conducted myself with dignity,’ said Charles.

• From From Shame to Sin: The Christian Transformation of Sexual Morality in Late Antiquity (2013)

  The crisis that swept across the former territories of Roman rule, progressing from northwest to southeast, carried in its train unpredictable consequences for erotic life. Perhaps the reverberations of the crisis were least felt inside the monastery, which possessed the cultural resources to maintain ancient styles of moral philosophy indifferent to the transformations of the external world. In the ascetic literature we find an ethics of the sexual body that, despite its novelty, seems to extend backward in time across the centuries. Here we encounter the vital legends of the monastic fathers, like Paphnutius, who once believed that he had vanquished the demonic impulses that tempted his flesh. His pride earned him a visitation from an angel of the Lord, who warned him how incomplete his spiritual transformation remained. “Go, take a most beautiful naked virgin, and if holding her you feel that the tranquility of your heart remains undisturbed and your peace is untouched by fleshly burnings,” then only might he vaunt his spiritual accomplishment. If this was an unusual proposal for an angel to make, we are quickly informed that it worked its effects without having to be tried literally, as the humility of Paphnutius was restored. In stories like these we see how intimately the array of cosmic beings had settled into ancient conversations about sexual desires; but the psychological assumptions and moral imagination of such lore draws on centuries of tradition. We remember that Epictetus had imagined a philosopher confronted with the temptations of a willing girl; the Stoic imagined victory in such a scenario as a rational decision to discount the impulses of pleasure. Epictetus frankly admitted that you could cut off the penis but never cut out desire. In the ascetic literature of late antiquity, we see the fulfillment of the trajectory promised already by Clement of Alexandria, that Christian sexual morality, in its purest expression, would not conquer desire but eliminate it.2

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

  GREGORY. (in Hom. 36. in Ev.) By the bodily senses also because they cannot comprehend things within, but take cognizance only of what is without, curiosity is rightly represented, which while it seeks to shake off a life which is strange to it, not knowing its own secret life, desires to dwell upon things without. But we must observe, that the one who for his farm, and the other who to prove his five yoke of oxen, excuse themselves from the supper of their Inviter, mix up with their excuse the words of humility. For when they say, I pray thee, and then disdain to come, the word sounds of humility, but the action is pride. It follows, And this said, I have married a wife, and therefore I cannot come. AUGUSTINE. (ubi sup.) That is, the delight of the flesh which hinders many, I wish it were outward and not inward. For he who said, I have married a wife, taking pleasure in the delights of the flesh, excuses himself from the supper; let such a one take heed lest he die from inward hunger. BASIL. But he says, I cannot come, because that the human mind when it is degenerating to worldly pleasures, is feeble in attending to the things of God. GREGORY. (Hom. 36.) But although marriage is good, and appointed by Divine Providence for the propagation of children, some seek therein not fruitfulness of offspring, but the lust of pleasure. And so by means of a righteous thing may not unfitly an unrighteous thing be represented. AMBROSE. Or marriage is not blamed; but purity is held up to greater honour, since the unmarried woman careth for the things of the Lord, that she may be holy in body and spirit, but she that is married careth for the things of the world. (1 Cor. 7:34.) AUGUSTINE. (ubi sup.) Now John when he said, all that is in the world is the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, (1 John 2:16.) began from the point where the Gospel ended. The lust of the flesh, I have married a wife; the lust of the eyes, I have bought fire yoke of oxen; the pride of life, I have bought a farm. But proceeding from a part to the whole, the five senses have been spoken of under the eyes alone, which hold the chief place among the five senses. Because though properly the sight belongs to the eyes, we are in the habit of ascribing the act of seeing to all the five senses. CYRIL OF ALEXANDRIA. But whom can we suppose these to be who refused to come for the reason just mentioned, but the rulers of the Jews, whom throughout the sacred history we find to have been often reproved for these things?

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

  Hence, it is evident, that elevation to the episcopate assumes perfection in the person thus honoured; and that it would be the height of presumption, for any man to consider himself perfect. Even St. Paul says, “Not as though I had already attained or were already perfect” (Philipp. 3:12). Again, in the same chapter, he adds, “Let us, therefore, as many as are perfect, be thus minded.” To desire perfection, and to strive to follow after it, is not presumption. It is that holy zeal to which St. Paul exhorts us, saying, “Be ye, therefore, zealous for the better gifts” (1 Cor. 12:31). Hence, it is praiseworthy to wish to embrace the religious life, although a desire for the episcopate is gross presumption. St. Gregory says, in his pastoral, “He who has refused a bishopric has not completely resisted it; and he who has willed to be raised to it, has first seen himself cleansed by the stone of the altar.” By these words we are to understand, that a man, chosen for the episcopate, should not absolutely refuse this honour. Nor yet should he aspire to it, unless he knows that he be cleansed in preparation for it. Nor should anyone, who is not thus purified, dare to approach the sacred mysteries. Neither, if he be chosen by divine grace, for this dignity, ought he, through pride disguised as humility, to decline to accept it. But, as it is exceedingly difficult for any man to know whether he be purified or not, the safest course is to decline a bishopric. Another point must be considered in our comparison between the religious and episcopal state. The religious life implies a renunciation of earthly possessions; whereas a bishopric is accompanied by great additional wealth. They who become religious give up all they possess, thus showing that they seek not temporal but spiritual goods. They who undertake the episcopal office are frequently wont to think more of temporal, than of eternal riches. St. Gregory says in his Pastoral, “that the truly praiseworthy condition under which to accept a bishopric, would be, if a man were to know, as a certainty, that such an office would involve severe torture.” Again, he says, “It is not every man who loves the sanctity of the episcopal office. But that sanctity is completely ignored by those, who, aspiring to such a dignity, are entranced by the idea of having others subject to them, are rejoiced at the thought of being praised, set their hearts on being honoured, and rejoice at the prospect of affluence. In such a case as that, men are coveting worldly advancement under the disguise of an office, in which it is their duty to try to extirpate earthly ambition.”

• From From Shame to Sin: The Christian Transformation of Sexual Morality in Late Antiquity (2013)

  The crisis that swept across the former territories of Roman rule, progressing from northwest to southeast, carried in its train unpredictable consequences for erotic life. Perhaps the reverberations of the crisis were least felt inside the monastery, which possessed the cultural resources to maintain ancient styles of moral philosophy indifferent to the transformations of the external world. In the ascetic literature we find an ethics of the sexual body that, despite its novelty, seems to extend backward in time across the centuries. Here we encounter the vital legends of the monastic fathers, like Paphnutius, who once believed that he had vanquished the demonic impulses that tempted his flesh. His pride earned him a visitation from an angel of the Lord, who warned him how incomplete his spiritual transformation remained. “Go, take a most beautiful naked virgin, and if holding her you feel that the tranquility of your heart remains undisturbed and your peace is untouched by fleshly burnings,” then only might he vaunt his spiritual accomplishment. If this was an unusual proposal for an angel to make, we are quickly informed that it worked its effects without having to be tried literally, as the humility of Paphnutius was restored. In stories like these we see how intimately the array of cosmic beings had settled into ancient conversations about sexual desires; but the psychological assumptions and moral imagination of such lore draws on centuries of tradition. We remember that Epictetus had imagined a philosopher confronted with the temptations of a willing girl; the Stoic imagined victory in such a scenario as a rational decision to discount the impulses of pleasure. Epictetus frankly admitted that you could cut off the penis but never cut out desire. In the ascetic literature of late antiquity, we see the fulfillment of the trajectory promised already by Clement of Alexandria, that Christian sexual morality, in its purest expression, would not conquer desire but eliminate it.2

• From Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood (2016)

  I didn’t feel bad about it at all. I still don’t. The lawyer in me maintains that I am completely innocent. There were matches and there was a magnifying glass and there was a mattress and then, clearly, a series of unfortunate events. Things catch fire sometimes. That’s why there’s a fire brigade. But everyone in my family will tell you, “Trevor burned down a house.” If people thought I was naughty before, after the fire I was notorious. One of my uncles stopped calling me Trevor. He called me “Terror” instead. “Don’t leave that kid alone in your home,” he’d say. “He’ll burn it to the ground.” My cousin Mlungisi, to this day, cannot comprehend how I survived being as naughty as I was for as long as I did, how I withstood the number of hidings that I got. Why did I keep misbehaving? How did I never learn my lesson? Both of my cousins were supergood kids. Mlungisi got maybe one hiding in his life. After that he said he never wanted to experience anything like it ever again, and from that day he always followed the rules. But I was blessed with another trait I inherited from my mother: her ability to forget the pain in life. I remember the thing that caused the trauma, but I don’t hold on to the trauma. I never let the memory of something painful prevent me from trying something new. If you think too much about the ass-kicking your mom gave you, or the ass-kicking that life gave you, you’ll stop pushing the boundaries and breaking the rules. It’s better to take it, spend some time crying, then wake up the next day and move on. You’ll have a few bruises and they’ll remind you of what happened and that’s okay. But after a while the bruises fade, and they fade for a reason—because now it’s time to get up to some shit again. [image file=image_rsrc2TT.jpg] I grew up in a black family in a black neighborhood in a black country. I’ve traveled to other black cities in black countries all over the black continent. And in all of that time I’ve yet to find a place where black people like cats. One of the biggest reasons for that, as we know in South Africa, is that only witches have cats, and all cats are witches. There was a famous incident during an Orlando Pirates soccer match a few years ago. A cat got into the stadium and ran through the crowd and out onto the pitch in the middle of the game. A security guard, seeing the cat, did what any sensible black person would do. He said to himself, “That cat is a witch.” He caught the cat and—live on TV—he kicked it and stomped it and beat it to death with a sjambok, a hard leather whip.

• From Bad Behavior (1988)

  There was a tenacious sense of defended pride in the room, which Stephanie felt both distant from and very much a part of. She thought of how pathetic this pride would seem to someone like Sandra, who had once disgustedly described a brief stint as a cocktail waitress as making her feel “like a whore.” The buzzer rang and Bernard the lawyer appeared, hands in his pockets, a sophisticated fellow playing the part, with mild amusement, of the casual businessman about to enjoy himself with a cheap woman. Stephanie smiled at him and sank back into the couch, feeling she was a sophisticated woman playing cheap. Soon they were back in the Shadow Room. “Do you remember those cartoons in Playboy?” she asked as they lay, not yet touching, on the bed. “The ones about prostitutes with the same faces and bodies lying on pillows, wearing lacy nighties? And the men who were standing with flowers and chocolates in their hands?” “Yes, of course.” “It’s funny, because I used to look at those things when I was ten and eleven years old and—well, I didn’t really know what prostitutes were, but it looked like a good thing from what I could see in Playboy. They were beautiful and they didn’t have to do anything but sit on cushions and men loved them. So I told my mother I wanted to be a prostitute when I grew up.” “That’s fabulous.” He smiled as though this was the most entertaining thing he’d heard all week. “Naturally she freaked out, and my parents sent me to a psychiatrist.” “Oh, good Lord.” “But after a few visits the psychiatrist decided I was normal. I mean, I had good grades and friends and everything, so I didn’t have to go anymore.” She shrugged. “My poor sister wasn’t so lucky. He had her on lithium by the time she was eleven.” “But the psychiatrist was wrong about you, wasn’t he?” She laughed, but she thought: He was not wrong. I am actually pretty normal. “So that’s what you’re doing. You’re playing prostitute.” He stroked her face and hair. She was startled that he seemed to be thinking in the same terms as she had been downstairs. She pictured him with his orange-haired, chain-smoking performance artist, and she had an almost visual sense of his delight in this educated woman who flew in the face of society, deliberately taking on a role that he probably considered demeaning, and then analyzing it. “Actually, I’m not playing. This is for real. I’m not going to give you your money back.” “You know what I mean.”

• From Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood (2016)

  I didn’t feel bad about it at all. I still don’t. The lawyer in me maintains that I am completely innocent. There were matches and there was a magnifying glass and there was a mattress and then, clearly, a series of unfortunate events. Things catch fire sometimes. That’s why there’s a fire brigade. But everyone in my family will tell you, “Trevor burned down a house.” If people thought I was naughty before, after the fire I was notorious. One of my uncles stopped calling me Trevor. He called me “Terror” instead. “Don’t leave that kid alone in your home,” he’d say. “He’ll burn it to the ground.” My cousin Mlungisi, to this day, cannot comprehend how I survived being as naughty as I was for as long as I did, how I withstood the number of hidings that I got. Why did I keep misbehaving? How did I never learn my lesson? Both of my cousins were supergood kids. Mlungisi got maybe one hiding in his life. After that he said he never wanted to experience anything like it ever again, and from that day he always followed the rules. But I was blessed with another trait I inherited from my mother: her ability to forget the pain in life. I remember the thing that caused the trauma, but I don’t hold on to the trauma. I never let the memory of something painful prevent me from trying something new. If you think too much about the ass-kicking your mom gave you, or the ass-kicking that life gave you, you’ll stop pushing the boundaries and breaking the rules. It’s better to take it, spend some time crying, then wake up the next day and move on. You’ll have a few bruises and they’ll remind you of what happened and that’s okay. But after a while the bruises fade, and they fade for a reason—because now it’s time to get up to some shit again. [image file=image_rsrc2TT.jpg] I grew up in a black family in a black neighborhood in a black country. I’ve traveled to other black cities in black countries all over the black continent. And in all of that time I’ve yet to find a place where black people like cats. One of the biggest reasons for that, as we know in South Africa, is that only witches have cats, and all cats are witches. There was a famous incident during an Orlando Pirates soccer match a few years ago. A cat got into the stadium and ran through the crowd and out onto the pitch in the middle of the game. A security guard, seeing the cat, did what any sensible black person would do. He said to himself, “That cat is a witch.” He caught the cat and—live on TV—he kicked it and stomped it and beat it to death with a sjambok, a hard leather whip.

• From Bad Behavior (1988)

  Brett had been in “the business” for ten years, since she was seventeen, and she said she was ready to leave. She told story after story about how customers were always trying to take advantage of her, humiliate her or intrude on her sympathies in some grotesque way. “It was just awful,” she said, concluding a particularly obnoxious story. “It was as if he’d done it almost, having to listen to him say it, you know?” She leaned forward for a handful of french fries, stuck some in her mouth and chewed meditatively. “When I was younger I had more energy to fight them off. No matter what they said or did, I could keep them away from my real self. But it gets harder and harder and I don’t know how much longer I can go on. I want to do something else anyway. I’m bored.” The other women began to talk about the terrible things men had done or tried to do, and how they’d thwarted them or gotten them back. There was a tenacious sense of defended pride in the room, which Stephanie felt both distant from and very much a part of. She thought of how pathetic this pride would seem to someone like Sandra, who had once disgustedly described a brief stint as a cocktail waitress as making her feel “like a whore.” The buzzer rang and Bernard the lawyer appeared, hands in his pockets, a sophisticated fellow playing the part, with mild amusement, of the casual businessman about to enjoy himself with a cheap woman. Stephanie smiled at him and sank back into the couch, feeling she was a sophisticated woman playing cheap. Soon they were back in the Shadow Room. “Do you remember those cartoons in Playboy ?” she asked as they lay, not yet touching, on the bed. “The ones about prostitutes with the same faces and bodies lying on pillows, wearing lacy nighties? And the men who were standing with flowers and chocolates in their hands?” “Yes, of course.” “It’s funny, because I used to look at those things when I was ten and eleven years old and—well, I didn’t really know what prostitutes were, but it looked like a good thing from what I could see in Playboy . They were beautiful and they didn’t have to do anything but sit on cushions and men loved them. So I told my mother I wanted to be a prostitute when I grew up.” “That’s fabulous.” He smiled as though this was the most entertaining thing he’d heard all week. “Naturally she freaked out, and my parents sent me to a psychiatrist.” “Oh, good Lord.” “But after a few visits the psychiatrist decided I was normal. I mean, I had good grades and friends and everything, so I didn’t have to go anymore.” She shrugged. “My poor sister wasn’t so lucky. He had her on lithium by the time she was eleven.” “But the psychiatrist was wrong about you, wasn’t he?”

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

  Reply to Objection 3: Although the devil assailed man unjustly, nevertheless, on account of sin, man was justly left by God under the devil’s bondage. And therefore it was fitting that through justice man should be delivered from the devil’s bondage by Christ making satisfaction on his behalf in the Passion. This was also a fitting means of overthrowing the pride of the devil, “who is a deserter from justice, and covetous of sway”; in that Christ “should vanquish him and deliver man, not merely by the power of His Godhead, but likewise by the justice and lowliness of the Passion,” as Augustine says (De Trin. xiii). Whether Christ ought to have suffered on the cross?Objection 1: It would seem that Christ ought not to have suffered on the cross. For the truth ought to conform to the figure. But in all the sacrifices of the Old Testament which prefigured Christ the beasts were slain with a sword and afterwards consumed by fire. Therefore it seems that Christ ought not to have suffered on a cross, but rather by the sword or by fire. Objection 2: Further, Damascene says (De Fide Orth. iii) that Christ ought not to assume “dishonoring afflictions.” But death on a cross was most dishonoring and ignominious; hence it is written (Wis. 2:20): “Let us condemn Him to a most shameful death.” Therefore it seems that Christ ought not to have undergone the death of the cross. Objection 3: Further, it was said of Christ (Mat. 21:9): “Blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord.” But death upon the cross was a death of malediction, as we read Dt. 21:23: “He is accursed of God that hangeth on a tree.” Therefore it does not seem fitting for Christ to be crucified. On the contrary, It is written (Phil. 2:8): “He became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross.” I answer that, It was most fitting that Christ should suffer the death of the cross. First of all, as an example of virtue. For Augustine thus writes (QQ. lxxxiii, qu. 25): “God’s Wisdom became man to give us an example in righteousness of living. But it is part of righteous living not to stand in fear of things which ought not to be feared. Now there are some men who, although they do not fear death in itself, are yet troubled over the manner of their death. In order, then, that no kind of death should trouble an upright man, the cross of this Man had to be set before him, because, among all kinds of death, none was more execrable, more fear-inspiring, than this.”

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

  PSEUDO-CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. de Divite.) There is a certain erroneous opinion inherent in mankind, which increases evil and lessens good. It is the feeling that all the good things we possess in the course of our life we possess as lords over them, and accordingly we seize them as our especial goods. But it is quite the contrary. For we are placed in this life not as lords in our own house, but as guests and strangers, led whither we would not, and at a time we think not of. He who is now rich, suddenly becomes a beggar. Therefore whoever thou art, know thyself to be a dispenser of the things of others, and that the privileges granted thee are for a brief and passing use. Cast away then from thy soul the pride of power, and put on the humility and modesty of a steward. BEDE. (ex Hieron.) The bailiff is the manager of the farm, therefore he takes his name from the farm. But the steward, or director of the household, (villicus œconomus) is the overseer of money as well as fruits, and of every thing his master possesses. AMBROSE. From this we learn then, that we are not ourselves the masters, but rather the stewards of the property of others. THEOPHYLACT. Next, that when we exercise not the management of our wealth according to our Lord’s pleasure, but abuse our trust to our own pleasures, we are guilty stewards. Hence it follows, And he was accused to him.

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

  I answer that, Christ willed to be born in Bethlehem for two reasons. First, because “He was made . . . of the seed of David according to the flesh,” as it is written (Rom. 1:3); to whom also was a special promise made concerning Christ; according to 2 Kings 23:1: “The man to whom it was appointed concerning the Christ of the God of Jacob . . . said.” Therefore He willed to be born at Bethlehem, where David was born, in order that by the very birthplace the promise made to David might be shown to be fulfilled. The Evangelist points this out by saying: “Because He was of the house and of the family of David.” Secondly, because, as Gregory says (Hom. viii in Evang.): “Bethlehem is interpreted ‘the house of bread.’ It is Christ Himself who said, ‘I am the living Bread which came down from heaven.’” Reply to Objection 1: As David was born in Bethlehem, so also did he choose Jerusalem to set up his throne there, and to build there the Temple of God, so that Jerusalem was at the same time a royal and a priestly city. Now, Christ’s priesthood and kingdom were “consummated” principally in His Passion. Therefore it was becoming that He should choose Bethlehem for His Birthplace and Jerusalem for the scene of His Passion. At the same time, too, He put to silence the vain boasting of men who take pride in being born in great cities, where also they desire especially to receive honor. Christ, on the contrary, willed to be born in a mean city, and to suffer reproach in a great city. Reply to Objection 2: Christ wished “to flower” by His holy life, not in His carnal birth. Therefore He wished to be fostered and brought up at Nazareth. But He wished to be born at Bethlehem away from home; because, as Gregory says (Hom. viii in Evang.), through the human nature which He had taken, He was born, as it were, in a foreign place—foreign not to His power, but to His Nature. And, again, as Bede says on Lk. 2:7: “In order that He who found no room at the inn might prepare many mansions for us in His Father’s house.” Reply to Objection 3: According to a sermon in the Council of Ephesus [*P. iii, cap. ix]: “If He had chosen the great city of Rome, the change in the world would be ascribed to the influence of her citizens. If He had been the son of the Emperor, His benefits would have been attributed to the latter’s power. But that we might acknowledge the work of God in the transformation of the whole earth, He chose a poor mother and a birthplace poorer still.”

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

  Secondly, because just as He took upon Himself the death of the body in order to bestow spiritual life on us, so did He bear bodily poverty, in order to enrich us spiritually, according to 2 Cor. 8:9: “You know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ: that . . . He became poor for our [Vulg.: ‘your’] sakes that through His poverty we [Vulg.: ‘you’] might be rich.” Thirdly, lest if He were rich His preaching might be ascribed to cupidity. Wherefore Jerome says on Mat. 10:9, that if the disciples had been possessed of wealth, “they had seemed to preach for gain, not for the salvation of mankind.” And the same reason applies to Christ. Fourthly, that the more lowly He seemed by reason of His poverty, the greater might the power of His Godhead be shown to be. Hence in a sermon of the Council of Ephesus (P. iii, c. ix) we read: “He chose all that was poor and despicable, all that was of small account and hidden from the majority, that we might recognize His Godhead to have transformed the terrestrial sphere. For this reason did He choose a poor maid for His Mother, a poorer birthplace; for this reason did He live in want. Learn this from the manger.” Reply to Objection 1: Those who wish to live virtuously need to avoid abundance of riches and beggary, in as far as these are occasions of sin: since abundance of riches is an occasion for being proud; and beggary is an occasion of thieving and lying, or even of perjury. But forasmuch as Christ was incapable of sin, He had not the same motive as Solomon for avoiding these things. Yet neither is every kind of beggary an occasion of theft and perjury, as Solomon seems to add (Prov. 30:8); but only that which is involuntary, in order to avoid which, a man is guilty of theft and perjury. But voluntary poverty is not open to this danger: and such was the poverty chosen by Christ. Reply to Objection 2: A man may feed and clothe himself in conformity with others, not only by possessing riches, but also by receiving the necessaries of life from those who are rich. This is what happened in regard to Christ: for it is written (Lk. 8:2,3) that certain women followed Christ and “ministered unto Him of their substance.” For, as Jerome says on Mat. 27:55, “It was a Jewish custom, nor was it thought wrong for women, following the ancient tradition of their nation, out of their private means to provide their instructors with food and clothing. But as this might give scandal to the heathens, Paul says that he gave it up”: thus it was possible for them to be fed out of a common fund, but not to possess wealth, without their duty of preaching being hindered by anxiety.

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

  “But the weak things of the world hath God chosen, that He may confound the strong” (1 Cor. 1:27). And therefore, in order the more to show His power, He set up the head of His Church in Rome itself, which was the head of the world, in sign of His complete victory, in order that from that city the faith might spread throughout the world; according to Is. 26:5,6: “The high city He shall lay low . . . the feet of the poor,” i.e. of Christ, “shall tread it down; the steps of the needy,” i.e. of the apostles Peter and Paul. Whether Christ was born at a fitting time?Objection 1: It would seem that Christ was not born at a fitting time. Because Christ came in order to restore liberty to His own. But He was born at a time of subjection—namely, when the whole world, as it were, tributary to Augustus, was being enrolled, at his command as Luke relates (2:1). Therefore it seems that Christ was not born at a fitting time. Objection 2: Further, the promises concerning the coming of Christ were not made to the Gentiles; according to Rom. 9:4: “To whom belong . . . the promises.” But Christ was born during the reign of a foreigner, as appears from Mat. 2:1: “When Jesus was born in the days of King Herod.” Therefore it seems that He was not born at a fitting time. Objection 3: Further, the time of Christ’s presence on earth is compared to the day, because He is the “Light of the world”; wherefore He says Himself (Jn. 9:4): “I must work the works of Him that sent Me, whilst it is day.” But in summer the days are longer than in winter. Therefore, since He was born in the depth of winter, eight days before the Kalends of January, it seems that He was not born at a fitting time. On the contrary, It is written (Gal. 4:4): “When the fulness of the time was come, God sent His Son, made of a woman, made under the law.” I answer that, There is this difference between Christ and other men, that, whereas they are born subject to the restrictions of time, Christ, as Lord and Maker of all time, chose a time in which to be born, just as He chose a mother and a birthplace. And since “what is of God is well ordered” and becomingly arranged, it follows that Christ was born at a most fitting time. Reply to Objection 1: Christ came in order to bring us back from a state of bondage to a state of liberty. And therefore, as He took our mortal nature in order to restore us to life, so, as Bede says (Super Luc. ii, 4,5), “He deigned to take flesh at such a time that, shortly after His birth, He would be enrolled in Caesar’s census, and thus submit Himself to bondage for the sake of our liberty.”

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

  AUGUSTINE. (Quæst. Ev. i. 8.) So that in these words the Lord signifies that some shall so believe, as not to have strength for the work of continence, and shall return to the world. He taketh unto him other seven, is to be understood that when any has fallen from righteousness, he shall also have hypocrisy. For the lust of the flesh being cast out of its wonted works by penitence, when it finds not any delights in which it may rest, returns the more greedily, and again takes possession of the soul, if carelessness has ensued, and there has not been introduced as the dweller in the cleansed abode the word of God in sound doctrine. And as he will not only have the seven vices which are the contraries of the spiritual virtues, but will hypocritically feign that he has the virtues, therefore his old lust, taking to itself seven other worse, that is, this seven-fold hypocrisy, returns to him so as to make the last state of that man worse than the former. GREGORY. (Mor. vii. 17.) For it often happens that the soul in the commencement of its progress is lifted up, and prides itself on its virtues, that it opens an entrance to the adversary who is raging against it, and who shews himself the more violent in breaking into it, by how much he was grieved at being cast out, though but for a short space. 12:46–5046. While he yet talked to the people, behold, his mother and his brethren stood without, desiring to speak with him. 47. Then one said unto him, Behold, thy mother and thy brethren stand without, desiring to speak with thee. 48. But he answered and said unto him that told him, Who is my mother? and who are my brethren? 49. And he stretched forth his hand toward his disciples, and said, Behold my mother and my brethren! 50. For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother, and sister, and mother. HILARY. Because He had spoken all the aforesaid things in the power of His Father’s majesty, therefore the Evangelist proceeds to tell what answer He made to one that told Him that His mother and His brethren waited for Him without; While he yet spake unto the people, his mother and his brethren stood without desiring to see him. AUGUSTINE. (De Cons. Ev. ii. 40.) We are to understand without doubt that this happened close upon the foregoing; for he begins to tell it with the words, And while he yet spake. What can that yet mean but that it was at the very time He spake the foregoing things? Mark also follows up that which He had said concerning blasphemy against the Holy Ghost, by saying, And there came his mother and his brethren. (Mark 3:31) Luke has not observed the order of action here, but has placed this earlier as he happened to recollect it.

• From The City of God

  41 Lecture 2 Transcript—Who Was Augustine of Hippo? role, and once that was over, his decks had been cleared to begin writing The City of God in late 411 or 412, and he kept at it, although often distracted by other work, until he completed the whole thing 15 years later, in 426 or 427. The last few years of his life were just as busy as the earlier ones, and he kept on writing, teaching, and even occasionally preaching up to a few weeks before his death on August 28, 430, with the Vandals besieging Hippo. And it is here, in his dealings with the Donatists and the Pelagians and his overall practice in the office of Bishop, where his critics find warrant for their charge that he is a fundamentally antidemocratic thinker; in fact, an authoritarian who gave the highest moral and theological imprimatur for the practices of coercion popular in the Middle Ages. And we will see again in these lectures, as in the accusations of his metaphysical anti-worldliness and his moral- psychological promotion of a guilt morality, that his reputed political authoritarianism is vastly overdrawn. In fact, in his role as a leader of the Latin Christian churches, he was anything but authoritarian. As a Bishop, he was more than just a religious leader; he was a political actor and a judicial figure, as well. Moreover, he became, as the historian Peter Brown has put it, a sort of one-man brain trust for the churches of Africa. Although his labors earned him great respect and veneration from others, he continued teaching what was effectively an anti-authoritarian vision of the Gospel, one that was quite suspicious of figures such as he was becoming. And he wasn’t afraid of attacking himself in this way. In one sermon, he said, and this is a quote: Don’t even think of regarding as canonical scripture any debate, or written account of a debate by anyone. If I have said something reasonable, then follow, not me, but reason itself; if I’ve proved it by the clearest divine testimonies, then follow, not me, but the divine scripture. I get angrier with that fan of mine who takes my book as