Remorse

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 Wrestler: A Life of Passion and the Pursuit of Greatness (2016)

  If I could do it all over again, I would smile a little brighter and walk a little taller, because I would be a part of the oldest and greatest sport on earth. But the truth is...I can’t do it all over again. The time is gone and the regrets are plenty. But perhaps my regrets will lose their sting as I encourage current wrestlers to learn from my mistakes and take advantage of the time they have. If I could do it all over again, I would...and in a heartbeat. Don’t let my regrets be yours. This sport is just too great to not enjoy all that is available within it. As the famous Dan Gable has said, “Once you’ve wrestled, everything else in life is easy.” ABOUT THE AUTHOR Michael Fessler is a writer, speaker, and the author of Faith and Wrestling and They’re Just Not Interested. He was a wrestler for many years and has served as a wrestling coach as well. Fessler lives in Minnesota with his wife and two children. He has a BA in Biblical and Theological Studies (Bethel University), and an MA in Communications (Concordia University – Saint Paul). Contact the author: Michael Fessler mrfess@hotmail.com Praise for Faith and Wrestling: How the Role of a Wrestler Mirrors the Christian Life The Bible tells us that believers are transformed by the renewing of their minds. Another way of putting this is ... taking into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ. This means learning how to think of all of life, including sport, from a biblical perspective. Michael Fessler’s book is drenched in Christian worldview. Those who wrestle with its truths will be richer for it. I wish that I had been able to drink from its wisdom as a young man but am grateful to be able to do so as an old(er) one. – Jack Spates, MDiv Baptist Bible Seminary, and former Head Wrestling Coach at the University of Oklahoma

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  The distinction between the middle class and the ghetto population continued within the camp. Of course, the soldiers made no distinctions and manhandled and degraded all the workers alike. But the men grinned when they saw a middle-class son arrive, caught in a raid or requested by name by the Germans, for they were sure he would not stay long. Nor were they wrong: as soon as he had been forgotten by the Germans, the middle-class boy went home in the convoys of the sick and the fathers of large families, or became a driver or nurse who, one day, on a trip to town, just disappeared. I found that the scouts, who slept apart, were also left outside all the little intrigues of the camp. Besides, the rejection was mutual. When they started confiding in me, they admitted they had invited me so as to avoid a disaster: the head of the camp had asked them to take one or two more men in their tent, but they had feared they would not be able to command the same cleanliness and discipline in the others. It was certainly too late now for me to indulge in remorse . All through the long monotonous days in the camp, I still tried to force the confidence of the men. Today, the spring that drove me is broken and I’m amazed at my decision to go to camp and at my naiveté, as though they were foreign to me. What innocence, what fervor, but also what self-sufficiency I must have had to believe I would be welcomed by the others merely because I had gone to them, full of faith and goodwill! In spite of the difficulties, I thought I was succeeding. The men, covered with lice, no longer fought disease. I discovered a barber among the workers. He had brought his tools with him, but he was called upon only on the eve of a day of leave. Together, we organized a little plot which would also be profitable for him. The following Sunday, rather ostentatiously, in the middle of the camp, I had my whole head shaved. After a few ironic comments, a few men followed my example when I explained that this would help protect me from lice. After that, the barber held his sessions every Sunday. I even became almost popular when I succeeded in obtaining an extra day of rest through a new system of rotation in our duties. A Jewish doctor had been specially appointed to the camps and came around once a week. We also had a permanent nurse, a former pharmacist who had no medical training. Only the more clever had managed so far to be reported sick. I persuaded the doctor, who pretended he was happy to speak at last to an intellectual, that it was necessary to grant a rest to those men who threatened to break down.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  But I was stubborn, slung my school satchel over my shoulder, and left the house. When I reached the end of the street, I heard her calling me, so I turned back with some ill will, dragging my feet, to receive from her my two pennies and an unexpected piece of bread crust. She had certainly borrowed it from Joulie, and this gesture made my vague remorse weigh all the more heavily on my conscience. The day had been spoiled for me, by my empty stomach and my confused conscience. I reached the old iron gate of the school, of course, too early. Birdie’s head, with his humble expression, his heavy eyelids that were always lowered, scarcely rose above a compact group of school children, while the other hucksters managed to attract only a few customers. One of them, a new trader, was giving us the old blarney to build up his trade. I noticed Saul as he detached himself from Birdie’s group: he was my rival and had thus come to be my first comrade. Our teacher in the first grade used to make us sit in the classroom by order of merit, so that Saul and I occupied the first row almost all year round. Comrades in the front row, we soon became friends by force of habit, though there was some irony to this as Saul was the son of a rich merchant in the covered bazaar, a fact that was each day more noticeable to me. Beneath his black apron that always seemed new, he wore fine cloth pants with mother- of-pearl buttons on the side, which had long aroused my curiosity: what could possibly be the use of buttons without any buttonholes? I had often made fun of them and Saul never knew what to answer. One day, as I repeated my taunts, he took on a superior manner: his mother had explained to him certain facts that he could not reveal to me. In spite of my exasperation and insistence, he absolutely refused to speak. In addition, he always smelled good, every day of the week, which impressed me very much. I went toward Saul, this particular morning, and greeted him. He smiled amiably, but seemed preoccupied. The news was indeed serious: one of the older boys, the elder of the Garsia brothers, claimed that the Nestlé firm had set the end of the month as the deadline for the set of pictures to be completed, and that a new album was being launched for the following month. Saul was furious for he would never be able to complete his set in time. I watched the whole excited crowd like a spectator who is not involved in what is happening on the race track.

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  She pretended to be sick, sent for some worthy wo- men of the city to visit her, and they came the more willingly as they hoped to make her illness instrumental towards bringing her back from her vicious ways. To this end each of them addressed the best remonstrances she could to her, and the seemingly dying woman lis- tened to them with tears, confessed her sin, and played the part so well, that the whole company had pity on her, believing her tears and her repentance to be sin- cere. They tried to console the poor penitent, told her that God was not so terrible by a great deal as some indiscreet preachers represented him to be, and assured her He would never withhold his mercy from her ; and then they sent for a good man to hear her confession. Next day the priest of the parish came and administered to her the holy sacrament, which she received with so much devotion that all the good women of the town who were present were moved with tears, and praised the divine goodness for having had pity on the poor crea- ture. Afterwards, upon her feigning that she could no longer swallow food, the priest brought her extreme unction, which she received with many fine signs of de- votion ; for she could hardly speak, at least so it was believed. She lay a long while in the same state ; but at last the spectators imagined that she gradually lost her sight, her hearing, and her other senses, whereupon everybody began to cry, "Jesus! Lord! have mercy!" Night being now at hand, and the ladies having some way to go, they all retired. As they were leaving the bouse, word was brought them that she had just ex- 476 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE INovelbo. pired. They said a De profimdis for her, and went away. The priest asked the chanter where he would have her buried. He replied that she had expressed a wish to be buried in the cemetery, and that it would be ad- visable under the circumstances that the interment should take place by night. The unfortunate woman was laid out for burial by a servant, who took good care not to hurt her ; and then she was carried by torchlight to the grave which the chanter had caused to be dug. When the body was carried past the houses of those who had seen the deceased receive extreme unction, they all came out and accompanied her to the grave, where the priests and the women left her, but the chanter remained after them. The moment he saw that the company were far enough oft, he and his servant woman lifted the pretended dead woman out ot the grave more alive than ever, and took her back to his house, in which he kept her long concealed.

• From I'm Not a Mourning Person (2023)

  There was just one problem: Dad wasn’t up for any of it. The debilitating treatments and side effects he was already experiencing were all he could handle. But he didn’t want to seem ungrateful or to let anyone down, so he’d act like he was interested in what we had to offer him. Then, when it came time to actually go to the acupuncturist or eat the carefully curated diet, he’d decline, saying, “Not right now.” At first, his rain checks didn’t faze me. But as they began to pile up, I realized that “not right now” was Dad’s way of saying he’d had enough. In reality, Mom was over capacity with his round-the-clock needs, too. Plus, she was experiencing her own fear, anxiety, and caregiver fatigue. But instead of pausing and honoring where they were at, my anxiety drove me to keep searching, trying, pushing. I’ll never forget the look on their faces when we met the nutritionist assigned to us at the local hospital where Dad got his follow-up treatments. “Wait, are you Kris Carr ? Who wrote all those books about cancer? Wow, OK, just do whatever she says, you’re in great hands!” This was the last thing either of my parents wanted to hear. It reminded me of my first Thanksgiving after going vegan as part of my cancer-fighting regimen. I couldn’t stop yammering about the benefits of a plant-based diet. As always, my parents were troupers. They even made a bunch of vegan dishes to share. All was well until an actual cooked turkey came out. Suddenly, the newbie vegan activist in me decided it was the perfect time to preach a sermon on the intersection of health, ethics, and the environment. Why my lecture fell flat was a mystery to me. “Love,” Dad said, “I know you’re passionate about this stuff, and we’re on board and even willing to try it ourselves—I mean, not all the way, but a lot. But if you want your message to resonate with people, you can’t pound them over the head. Ease up. You have to meet them where they are.” Translation: don’t be a dick and ruin Thanksgiving. He was right. Nobody wants to be told how to live—and they definitely don’t want to be forced to change. In fact, the only time you can change someone is when they’re in diapers. Yet there I was, wagging my finger about how superior my compassionate choices were, while failing to extend that same compassion to my family.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  In short, I brought my bag over to the scouts, and thus began a retreat which was to have important consequences. The distinction between the middle class and the ghetto population continued within the camp. Of course, the soldiers made no distinctions and manhandled and degraded all the workers alike. But the men grinned when they saw a middle-class son arrive, caught in a raid or requested by name by the Germans, for they were sure he would not stay long. Nor were they wrong: as soon as he had been forgotten by the Germans, the middle-class boy went home in the convoys of the sick and the fathers of large families, or became a driver or nurse who, one day, on a trip to town, just disappeared. I found that the scouts, who slept apart, were also left outside all the little intrigues of the camp. Besides, the rejection was mutual. When they started confiding in me, they admitted they had invited me so as to avoid a disaster: the head of the camp had asked them to take one or two more men in their tent, but they had feared they would not be able to command the same cleanliness and discipline in the others. It was certainly too late now for me to indulge in remorse. All through the long monotonous days in the camp, I still tried to force the confidence of the men. Today, the spring that drove me is broken and I’m amazed at my decision to go to camp and at my naiveté, as though they were foreign to me. What innocence, what fervor, but also what self-sufficiency I must have had to believe I would be welcomed by the others merely because I had gone to them, full of faith and goodwill! In spite of the difficulties, I thought I was succeeding. The men, covered with lice, no longer fought disease. I discovered a barber among the workers. He had brought his tools with him, but he was called upon only on the eve of a day of leave. Together, we organized a little plot which would also be profitable for him. The following Sunday, rather ostentatiously, in the middle of the camp, I had my whole head shaved. After a few ironic comments, a few men followed my example when I explained that this would help protect me from lice. After that, the barber held his sessions every Sunday.

• From Christianity and the Social Crisis (1907)

  The outcome of these first historical chapters is that the essential purpose of Christianity was to transform human society into the kingdom of God by regenerating all human relations and reconstituting them in accordance with the will of God. The fourth chapter raises the question why the Christian Church has never undertaken to carry out this fundamental purpose of its existence. I have never met with any previous attempt to give a satisfactory historical explanation of this failure, and I regard this chapter as one of the most important in the book. The fifth chapter sets forth the conditions which constitute the present social crisis and which imperatively demand of Christianity that contribution of moral and religious power which it was destined to furnish. The sixth chapter points out that the Church, as such, has a stake in the social movement. The Church owns property, needs income, employs men, works on human material, and banks on its moral prestige. Its present efficiency and future standing are bound up for weal or woe with the social welfare of the people and with the outcome of the present struggle. The last chapter suggests what contributions Christianity can make and in what main directions the religious spirit should exert its force. In covering so vast a field of history and in touching on such a multitude of questions, error and incompleteness are certain, and the writer can claim only that he has tried to do honest work. Moreover, it is impossible to handle questions so vital to the economic, the social, and the moral standing of great and antagonistic classes of men, without jarring precious interests and convictions, and without giving men the choice between the bitterness of social repentance and the bitterness of moral resentment. I can frankly affirm that I have written with malice toward none and with charity for all. Even where I judge men to have done wrong, I find it easy to sympathize with them in the temptations which made the wrong almost inevitable, and in the points of view in which they intrench themselves to save their self-respect. I have tried—so far as erring human judgment permits—to lift the issues out of the plane of personal selfishness and hate, and to put them where the white light of the just and pitying spirit of Jesus can play upon them. If I have failed in that effort, it is my sin. If others in reading fail to respond in the same spirit, it is their sin. In a few years all our restless and angry hearts will be quiet in death, but those who come after us will live in the world which our sins have blighted or which our love of right has redeemed.

• From The Pillar of Salt (1953)

  When I think how little I foresaw at the time what was about to come and actually did come, how politically ignorant I was, I cannot understand why I still suffer such confused remorse, so much repressed self-criticism and dissatisfaction with myself. Perhaps because I might have acted more wisely, perhaps because the acute self-awareness that I have since contracted like a disease does not allow me now to recognize the young man that I was at that time. My whole conduct was based on impulse. I lived through that period like any mediocre imbecile, stunned by hunger and exhaustion, believing any piece of gossip and reacting exactly like all the others. Or is it simply that I feel indebted to my age for not having been carted off to hell or had my nails torn out of my fingers or lost a leg or an arm in a slave-labor camp? This is required by the times, whether one be the hangman or the victim. I don’t feel victimized enough, and it tortures my conscience. Historians today tell how, one afternoon, as the red and purple dusk lingered on, the big Junker planes of the Nazis started landing on El-Aouina Airfield. I did not see the aircraft, and nobody told me about it. I believe that I was reading my newspaper that evening, just as I am today. Later, I learned that a few wise people had left the country in time; the army, it seems, had arranged a train service for those wishing to join the Allied Forces. I never had any connections in the army and was living in the closed world of the Jewish artisans. But even if I had known of the Junkers’ landing, I would not have realized the necessity of escaping. In fact, I understood so little that I was convinced that, between the Jews, the Germans, and the French, it was all a matter of pride. When Pétain came to power in France, the new anti-Semitic laws were applied to us but with some delay. When the decrees were published, I was not so much struck by the material side of the catastrophe as disappointed and angry. It was the painful and astounding treason, vaguely expected but so brutally confirmed, of a civilization in which I had placed all my hopes and which I so ardently admired. With a crash, the reassuring idea that colonial Frenchmen and those from metropolitan France were not the same was now demolished. The whole of Europe had revealed its basic injustice. I was all the more hurt in my pride because I had been so uncautious in my complete surrender to my faith in Europe.

• From Chéri and The Last of Chéri (1920)

  “ It serves me right. At my age, one can’t afford to keep a lover six years. Six years! He has ruined all that was left of me. Those six years might have given me two or three quite pleasant little happinesses, instead of one profound regret. A liaison of six years is like following your husband out to the colonies: when you get back again nobody recognizes you and you’ve forgotten how to dress.” To relieve the strain, she rang for Rose, and together they went through the contents of the little cupboard where she kept her lace. Night fell, set the lamps blossoming into light, and called Rose back to the cares of the house. ' “To-morrow,” Lea said to herself, “I’ll order the motor and drive out to SpeleiefF’s stud-farm in Normandy. I’ll take old La Berche, if she wants to come: it will remind her of the past glories of her own carriages. And, upon my word, should the younger SpeleiefF cast an eye in my direction, I’m not saying I...” She carefully smiled a mysterious and provocative smile, to delude what ghosts there might be hovering round the dressing-table or 112, round the formidable bed, glimmering in the shadows. But she felt entirely frigid, and full of contempt for the pleasures other people found in love. She dined off grilled sole and pastries, and found the meal a recreation. She chose a dry champagne in place of the Bordeaux, and hummed as she left the table. Eleven o’clock caught her by surprise, still taking the measurements of the space between the windows in her bedroom, where she planned to replace the large looking-glasses with old painted panels of flowers and balustrades. She yawned, scratched her head, and rang for her maid to undress her. While Rose knelt to take off her silk stockings. Lea reviewed her achievements of the day already slipping into the pages of the past, and was as pleased with her performance as if she had polished off an imposition. Protected for the night against the dangers of idleness, she could look forward to so many hours of sleep, so many when she would lie awake. Under cover of night, the restless regain the privilege of yawning aloud or sighing, of cursing the milkman’s cart, the street-cleaners, and the early morning sparrows. During her preparations for the night, she thought over a number of mild projects that would never come into being.

• From My Life and Loves, Vol. 1 (of 4) (1922)

  “On Monday,” I replied, and her dear eyes grew sombre and her lips quivered. “You’ll write?” she asked, “please do, Frank! No matter what happens I shall never forget you: you’ve helped me, encouraged me more than I can say. Did I tell you, I’ve got a place in Crew’s bookstore? When I said I had learned to love books from you, he was glad and said ‘if you get to know them as well as he did, or half as well, you’ll be invaluable’; so you see, I am following in your footsteps, as you are following in Smith’s.” “If you knew how glad I am that I’ve really helped and not hurt you, Rose?” I said sadly, for Lily’s accusing voice was still in my ears. “You couldn’t hurt anyone,” she exclaimed, almost as if she divined my remorse, “you are so gentle and kind and understanding.” Her words were balm to me and she walked with me to the bridge where I told her she would hear from me on the morrow. I wanted to know what she would think of the books and cape. The last thing I saw of her was her hand raised as if in benediction. I kept the Sunday morning for Sommerfeld and my friend Will Thompson and the rest of the day for Sophy. Sommerfeld came to the office before nine and told me the firm owed me three thousand dollars: I didn’t wish to take it; could not believe he had meant to go halves with me but he insisted and paid me. “I don’t agree with your sudden determination,” he said, “perhaps because it was sudden; but I’ve no doubt you’ll do well at anything you take up. Let me hear from you now and again and if you ever need a friend, you know where to find me!” As we shook hands I realised that parting could be as painful as the tearing asunder of flesh. Will Thompson, I found, was eager to take over the hoardings and my position in Liberty Hall; he had brought his father with him and after much bargaining I conveyed everything I could, over to him for three thousand five hundred dollars, and so after four year’s work I had just the money I had had in Chicago four years earlier! I dined in the Eldridge House and then went back to the office to meet Sophy who was destined to surprise me more even than Lily or Rose: “I’m coming with you,” she announced coolly, “if you’re not ashamed to have me along; you goin’ Frisco,—so far anyway—” she pleaded divining my surprise and unwillingness. “Of course, I’ll be delighted,” I said, “but—” I simply could not refuse her. She gurgled with joy and drew out her purse: “I’ve four hundred dollars”, she said proudly, “and that’ll take this child a long way.”

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  [Lev 24:16 ; Num 14:6 ] 66 “What do you think?” They answered, “d He deserves to be put to death.” 67 Then they spat in His face and struck Him with their fists; and some slapped Him, [Is 50:6 ] 68 saying, “e Prophesy to us, You Christ (Messiah, Anointed); who was it that struck You?” Peter’s Denials 69 Now Peter was sitting outside in the courtyard, and a servant-girl came up to him and said, “You too were with Jesus the Galilean.” [Mark 14:66–72 ; Luke 22:55–62 ; John 18:16–18 , 25–27 ] 70 But he denied it before them all, saying, “I do not know what you are talking about.” 71 And when he had gone out to the gateway, another servant-girl saw him and she said to the bystanders, “This man was with Jesus the Nazarene.” 72 And again he denied it with an oath, “I do not know the man.” 73 After a little while the bystanders came up and said to Peter, “Surely you are one of them too; for even your [Galilean] accent gives you away.” 74 Then he began to curse [that is, to invoke God’s judgment on himself] and swear [an oath], “I do not know the man!” And at that moment a rooster crowed. 75 And Peter remembered the [prophetic] words of Jesus, when He had said, “Before a rooster crows, you will deny Me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly [in repentance]. Matthew 27 Judas’ Remorse 1 W HEN IT was morning, all the chief priests and the elders of the people (Sanhedrin, Jewish High Court) conferred together against Jesus, [plotting how] to put Him to death [since under Roman rule they had no power to execute anyone]; 2 so they bound Him, and led Him away and handed Him over to Pilate the governor [of Judea, who had the authority to condemn prisoners to death]. 3 When Judas, His betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he was gripped with remorse and returned the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders, [Ex 21:32 ] 4 saying, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” They replied, “What is that to us? See to that yourself!” 5 And throwing the pieces of silver into the temple sanctuary, he left; and went away and a hanged himself. 6 The chief priests, picking up the pieces of silver, said, “It is not lawful to put these in the treasury [of the temple], because it is the price of blood.” 7 So after consultation they used the money to buy the Potter’s Field as a burial place for strangers. 8 Therefore that piece of ground has been called the Field of Blood to this day.

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  his wife and mother-in-law, he was received by ihem both with the most contumelious reproaches, and that, unable to endure his shame and remorse, he died a few days after. That is not true. The battle of Pavia was fought on the 24th of February, 1525, and the Duke of Alen^on did not die until the nth of April, that is to say, more than a month after his arrival in Lyon. It appears from the testimony of an eye-witness, brought to light by the last editors of the Heptameron, that he was carried off by a pleurisy in five days, that he was comforted on his death-bed by his wife and her mother, that he spoke with profound re^et of the king's misfortune, but that nothing escaped his own lips or those of the two ladies to indicate the faintest idea on either side that he had not done his duty at Pavia. The first five years of Margaret's wedded life were passed in privacy in her duchy of Alengon, but from the date of her brother's accession to the throne, in January, 1515, her talents were employed with advantage in affairs of state. " Such was her discourse," says Brantome, "that the ambassadors who addressed her were extremely taken with it, and gave a high character of it to their countrvmen on their return, and by this she became a good assistant to the king her brother \ for they always waited on her after their principal audience, and frequently, when he had affairs of importance, he referred them entirely to her determination, she so well knowing how to engage and entertain them with her fine speeches, and being very artful and dexterous in pumping out their secrets : these qualifications the king would often say made her of great use to him in facilitating his affairs. So that I have heard there was an emulation between the two sisters who should serve her brother best ; the one — the Queen of Hungary — her brother the emperor, the other, her brother King Francis ; b ;t the former by war and force, th.: latter by the activity of her fine wit and complaisance. . . . During the imprison- ment of the king her brother, she was of great assistance to the regent her mother in governing the kingdom, keeping the princes and grandees quiet, and gaining upon the nobility ; XXIV MEMOIR OF MARGARET, for she was of very easy access, and won the hearts of al! people by the fine accomplishments she was mistress of." *

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  In one of the best towns of France after Paris there was a hospital richly endowed — that is to say, with a prioress and fifteen or sixteen nuns, and a prior with seven or eight monks, who lived opposite in another building. The latter performed service every day, and the nuns, contented themselves with saying their pater- nosters and the hours of Our Lady, because they had enough to do in attending the sick. One day there died a poor man, about whom all the nuns were assembled. After administering all the remedies for his bodily health, they sent for one of their monks to confess him. Then, seeing that he was sinking, they gave him extreme unc- tion, and shortly afterwards he lost his speech. But as Eishth day ] Q UEEN OF NA VARRE. 5 5 1 he was a long time dying, and it was thought he could still hear, each of the nuns busied herself in saying to him the best things she could. This continued so long that at last they grew tired, and, as it was night and late, they went to bed one after the other. One of the youngest alone remained to lay out the body, with a monk of whom she stood in more awe than of the prior or any other, on account of his great austerity both in life and in conversation. After these two had shouted three hours loud and long into the poor man's ear, they were sure he had breathed his last, and they laid him out. Whilst performing this last act of charity, the monk began to talk of the wretchedness of life and the blessed- ness of death ; and half the night was spent in this pious discourse. The poor girl listened with great attention, and gazed at him with tears in her eyes. This gave him so much pleasure that, whilst speaking of the life to come, he began to embrace her as if he would fain have carried her in his arms straightway to Paradise ; she listening to him always with the same rapt spirit, and not venturing to gainsay one whom she believed to be the most devout man in the convent. The wicked monk seeing this, and talking always of God, accomplished the work which the devil had suddenly put in their hearts (for previously there had been no question of this), as- suring her that a secret sin met with impunity before God ; that two persons who have no ties cannot sin in that way, provided no scandal comes of it, and to avoid any she was to be careful not to confess to anyone but himself. They separated at last, and as she passed through a chapel dedicated to Our Lady, she wished to offer her orison as usual; but when she came to utter the words Virgin Mary, she recollected that she had lost her vir- 552 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE Navel 72

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

  ORIGEN. Let the propounders of those fables concerning intrinsically evil naturesa answer me here, whence Judas came to the acknowledgment of his sin, I have sinned in that I have betrayed righteous blood, except through the good mind originally implanted in him, and that seed of virtue which is sown in every rational soul? But Judas did not cherish this, and so fell into this sin. But if ever any man was made of a nature that was to perish, Judas was yet more of such a nature. If indeed he had done this after Christ’s resurrection, it might have been said, that the power of the resurrection brought him to repentance. But he repented when he saw Christ delivered up to Pilate, perhaps remembering the things Jesus had so often spoken of His resurrection. (John 13:27.) Or, perhaps Satan who had entered into him continued with him till Jesus was given up to Pilate, and then, having accomplished his purpose, departed from him; whereupon he repented. But how could Judas know that He was condemned, for He had not yet been examined by Pilate? One may perhaps say, that he foreboded the event in his own mind from the very first, when he saw Him delivered up. Another may explain the words, when he saw that he was condemned, of Judas himself, that he then perceived his evil case, and saw that he himself was condemned. LEO. (Serm. 52, 5.) When he says, I have sinned, in that I have betrayed innocent blood, he persists in his wicked treachery, seeing that amid the last struggles of death he believed not Jesus to be the Son of God, but merely man of our rank; for had he not thus denied His omnipotence, he would have obtained His mercy. CHRYSOSTOM. Observe that he repents only when his sin is finished and complete; for so the Devil suffers not those who are not watchful to see the evil before they bring it to an end. REMIGIUS. But they said, What is that to us? that is to say, What is it to us that He is righteous? See thou to it, i. e. to thy own deed what will come of it. Though some would read these in one1, What must we think of you, when you confess that the man whom yourself have betrayed is innocent?

• From Paul and Palestinian Judaism (40th Anniversary Edition) (2017)

  The view that repentance wipes out any number of sins is brought into connection with the view that God's justice requires him to deal with a man in strict accord with his sins in this passage from Sifre: 1 51 The sages say: God never reverses ('they never reverse') innocence into guilt nor guilt into innocence, but he gives the gift of the reward for [the fulfilment of] mitsvot and he punishes for transgressions. So why does Scripture teach, 'Let Reuben live, and not die'? Because Reuben made repentance. The point appears to be that a strict reckoning would have had Reuben die, but repentance created a new situation, one in which his disobedience no longer counted against him. It is perhaps noteworthy that the biblical accounts do not mention his repenting (presumably for incest; see Gen. 35.22 and 49.4); the Rabbis supposed that since Deut. 33.6 said that he should live and not die, he must have repented. This indicates how thoroughly repentance was the Rabbinic doctrine of salvation. 152 Repentance, like obedience, is best undertaken simply from love of God; but even repentance made from fear is better than none at all. The Rabbis do not praise it, but they do not deny its efficacy. 153 To the mind sensitized to the question by centuries of Lutheranism, even repentance may appear as a legalistic performance to earn God's mercy. The Rabbis can in fact state the matter in su~h a way as to make man's initiative in repenting the absolute condition of God's mercy. That is, it will 147 Buchler, Sin and Atonement, pp. 331ff. As R. Tarfon said, however, even though a man may not fulfil the law perfectly, he is not free to desist from trying (Aboth 2.16). 148 Thus Mek. Mishpatim 18 (313; III, 141f. [Nezikin 18]; to 22.22(23]): when R. Simeon and R. Ishmael were going to be executed, the former could not think what sin he was being punished for. R. Ishmael suggested that he might at some time have delayed giving a judgment until he sipped his cup, tied his sandals or put on his cloak The point is that such a sin might account for his premature death. (On the identity of this R. Simeon, see Finkelstein, Akiba, pp. 268, 316f.) For another instance, see Buchler, Sin and Atonement, p. 347. See also Buchler, Types, pp. 17f., where examples ofnear perfection are cited from Rabbinic and other literature. 149 Gted above, section 6 n. 17; cf. n. 23. 150 Rosh Ha-Shanah 18a (ET, pp. 7of.) 151 Sifre Deut. 347 (404f.; to 33.6) 152 Cf. Moore, Judaism I, p. 500: repentance and its other side, remission of sins, 'may properly be called the Jewish doctrine of salvation'.

• From Giovanni's Room (1956)

  I was thinking, when I told Hella that I had loved her, of those days before anything awful, irrevocable, had happened to me, when an affair was nothing more than an affair. Now, from this night, this coming morning, no matter how many beds I find myself in between now and my final bed, I shall never be able to have any more of those boyish, zestful affairs—which are, really, when one thinks of it, a kind of higher, or, anyway, more pretentious mastur- bation. People are too various to be treated so lightly. I am too various to be trusted. If this were not so I would not be alone in this house tonight. Hella would not be on the high seas. And Giovanni would not be about to perish, sometime between this night and this morning, on the guillotine. I repent now—for all the good it does—one particular lie among the many lies I've told. GIOVANNI'S ROOM 11 told, lived, and believed. This is the lie which I told to Giovanni but never succeeded in mak- ing him believe, that I had never slept with a boy before. I had. I had decided that I never would again. There is something fantastic in the spectacle I now present to myself of having run so far, so hard, across the ocean even, only to find myseK brought up short once more be- fore the bulldog in my own backyard—the yard, in the meantime, having grown smaller and the bulldog bigger. I have not thought of that boy—Joey—for many years; but I see him quite clearly tonight. It was several years ago. I was still in my teens, he was about my age, give or take a year. He was a very nice boy, too, very quick and dark, and always laughing. For a while he was my best friend. Later, the idea that such a person could have been my best friend was proof of some horrifying taint in me. So I forgot him. But I see him very well tonight. It was in the summer, there was no school. His parents had gone someplace for the week- end and I was spending the weekend at his house, which was near Coney Island, in Brooklyn. We lived in Brooklyn too, in those days, but in a better neighborhood than Joey's. I think we had been lying around the beach, swimming a little and watching the near-naked girls pass, whistling at them and laughing. I am sure that if any of the girls we whistled at that day had shown any signs of responding, the

• From How to Deal with Angry People (2023)

  If you are able to say to yourself, “Their anger is fair even thought their behavior is not,” you can move forward to try and resolve both issues by conveying that (1) you made a mistake you wish to resolve and (2) you expect better treatment moving forward. Second, the opposite of this last point is also true. While you should not discount their feelings because you don’t approve of or appreciate their behaviors, you should not let their justified feelings serve as an excuse for them to treat you poorly. I’ve heard people say, for instance, things like, “I deserved that after what I did to them” as a way of explaining away cruelty. It is totally reasonable to convey to someone that while you recognize the harm you may have caused them and that they should be angry, you are unwilling to tolerate their cruelty. As is always the case, you can walk away from toxic people and toxic situations in your life. How to Apologize So what can you do in those moments when you’ve decided their anger is justified and that you have done something wrong you wish to make up for. We can’t always right the wrongs we’ve caused, but we can take steps to do what is possible. Those steps will likely start with an apology. Even once you’ve removed defensiveness from the equation, apologizing can be difficult for people. It’s a really important thing to do, though, as it can help repair the damaged relationship and open the door to a meaningful resolution regarding the specific situation where you are in error. There is also the added benefit that it can help you experience less guilt over the mistake because you’re taking steps to address it. With all that in mind, here are three important steps to apologizing: First, take responsibility for what you did and make sure that is reflected in the language you use as you apologize. Saying “I’m sorry, but…” or “I’m sorry if…” doesn’t necessarily reflect a true and sincere apology. But saying, “I’m sorry I [hurt your feelings/didn’t finish that report/forgot to call you]” does acknowledge that you made a mistake and you’re taking responsibility for it. Second, make sure they know you feel remorse or sadness over what you did. Again, this can be reflected in the language you use when you apologize by saying things like, “I really regret having done this” or “I feel sad for having made you feel this way.” Third, make an attempt, or at least offer, to fix the parts you are able to fix. If you didn’t get something done at work they are counting on, help problem-solve with them to minimize the impact. If you broke their trust, tell them you will work to avoid doing that in the future.

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

  AMBROSE. For he preferred to deny himself rather than Christ, or because he seemed to deny being of the company of Christ, he truly denied himself. BEDE. In this denial then of Peter we affirm that not only is Christ denied by him who says that He is not Christ, but by him also, who, being a Christian, says he is not. AMBROSE. He is also asked a third time; for it follows, And about the space of one hour after, another confidently affirmed, saying, Of a truth this fellow also was with him. AUGUSTINE. (de Con. Ev. ut sup.) What Matthew and Mark call after a little while, Luke explains by saying, about the space of one hour after; but with regard to the space of time, John says nothing. Likewise when Matthew and Mark record not in the singular but in the plural number those who conversed with Peter, while Luke and John speak of one, we may easily suppose either that Matthew and Mark used the plural for the singular by a common form of speech, or that one person in particular addressed Peter, as being the one who had seen him, and that others trusting to his credit joined in pressing him. But now as to the words which Matthew asserts were said to Peter himself, Truly thou art one of them, for thy speech bewrayeth thee; as also those which to the same Peter John declared to have been said, Did not I see thee in the garden? whereas Mark and Luke state that they spoke to one another concerning Peter; we either believe that they held the right opinion who say that they were really addressed to Peter; (for what was said concerning him in his presence amounts to the same as if it had been said to him;) or that they were said in both ways, and that some of the Evangelists related them one way, some the other. BEDE. But he adds, For he is a Galilæan; not that the Galilæans spoke a different language from the inhabitants of Jerusalem, who indeed were Hebrews, but that each separate province and country having its own peculiarities could not avoid a vernacular tone of speech. It follows, And Peter said, Man, I know not what thou sayest. AMBROSE. That is, I know not your blasphemies. But we make excuse for him. He did not excuse himself. For an involved answer is not sufficient for our confessing Jesus, but an open confession is required. And therefore Peter is not represented to have answered this deliberately, for he afterwards recollected himself, and wept. BEDE. Holy Scripture is often wont to mark the character of certain events by the nature of the times in which they take place. Hence Peter who sinned at midnight repented at cock-crow; for it follows, And immediately, while he yet spake, the cock crew. The error he committed in the darkness of forgetfulness, he corrected by the remembrance of the true light.

• From Speak, Memory (1966)

  … Beneath the sky Of my America to sigh For one locality in Russia. The general reader may now resume. 6I was nearing eighteen, then was over eighteen; love affairs and verse-writing occupied most of my leisure; material questions left me indifferent, and, anyway, against the background of our prosperity no inheritance could seem very conspicuous; yet, upon looking back across the transparent abyss, I find queer and somewhat unpleasant to reflect that during the brief year that I was in the possession of that private wealth, I was too much absorbed by the usual delights of youth—youth that was rapidly losing its initial, non-usual fervor—either to derive any special pleasure from the legacy or to experience any annoyance when the Bolshevik Revolution abolished it overnight. This recollection gives me the sense of having been ungrateful to Uncle Ruka; of having joined in the general attitude of smiling condescension that even those who liked him usually took toward him. It is with the utmost repulsion that I force myself to recall the sarcastic comments that Monsieur Noyer, my Swiss tutor (otherwise a most kindly soul), used to make on my uncle’s best composition, a romance, both the music and words of which he had written. One day, on the terrace of his Pau castle, with the amber vineyards below and the empurpled mountains in the distance, at a time when he was harassed by asthma, palpitations, shiverings, a Proustian excoriation of the senses, se débattant, as it were, under the impact of the autumn colors (described in his own words as the “chapelle ardente de feuilles aux tons violents”), of the distant voices from the valley, of a flight of doves striating the tender sky, he had composed that one-winged romance (and the only person who memorized the music and all the words was my brother Sergey, whom he hardly ever noticed, who also stammered, and who is also now dead). “L’air transparent fait monter de la plaine.…” he would sing in his high tenor voice, seated at the white piano in our country house—and if I were at that moment hurrying through the adjacent groves on my way home for lunch (soon after seeing his jaunty straw hat and the black-velvet-clad bust of his handsome coachman in Assyrian profile, with scarlet-sleeved outstretched arms, skim rapidly along the rim of the hedge separating the park from the drive) the plaintive sounds Un vol de tourterelles strie le ciel tendre, Les chrysanthèmes se parent pour la Toussaint reached me and my green butterfly net on the shady, tremulous trail, at the end of which was a vista of reddish sand and the corner of our freshly repainted house, the color of young fir cones, with the open drawing-room window whence the wounded music came.

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

  This Argument is Equally Fallacious As Applied to Penitent SinnersFINALLY, let us see whether penitent sinners, who are not yet exercised in observing the Commandments, are to be excluded from religious life. The example of St. Matthew is germane to our question. Our Lord called him from the profits of a custom collection to be His follower; and Matthew, although not at once admitted to the number of the Apostles, immediately embraced the perfection of the counsels, for, “leaving all things he rose up and followed him” (Luke v. 28). “He who had robbed others abandoned his own possessions,” says St. Ambrose. From this example, it is abundantly evident that penitents may, even after most heinous sins, enter on the observance of the Counsels. In fact, we may go further, and say that it is fitting that such repentant sinners should embrace a life of perfection; for, as St. Gregory says in his comment on the words of Luke iii., “Bring forth therefore fruits worthy of penance”: “He who has committed no unlawful act may rightfully be granted the enjoyment of lawful things. But he who has fallen into sin, ought to deprive himself of lawful goods, in proportion as he is conscious of having committed unlawful deeds.” Again, he says: “It is fitting that if a man has impoverished himself by sin, he should so much the more eagerly seek by penance the riches of good works.” Since then in the religious life men abstain even from lawful things, and seek the treasure of perfection, it is reasonable that they who abandon sin (whereby they have been exercised, not in the practice, but in the transgression of the Commandments) should walk in the way of the Counsels, by entering religion, which is the state of true penance. Again we find, in quaest. XXXIII. cap. II. Admonere, that Pope Stephen, addressing a certain Astulphus, who had been guilty of great sins, says: “May our advice be pleasing to you. Go into a monastery: humble yourself to the Abbot; and, helped by the prayers of many brethren, perform in simplicity of heart whatever may be enjoined upon you.” “But,” he continues: “if you prefer to remain in your house or in the world and there to do public penance (which will be far more onerous and painful for you), we will tell you how you are to act.” The Pope then imposes severe penances upon him, telling him at the same time that it would be better and more advantageous for him to go into religion.