Shame

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 Go Tell It on the Mountain (1953)

  She told herself that it was foolish and sinful to look backward when her safety lay before her, like a hiding-place hewn in the side of the mountain. ‘Sister,’ he asked one night, ‘don’t you reckon you ought to give your heart to the Lord?’ They were in the dark streets, walking to church. He had asked her this question before, but never in such a tone; she had never before felt so compelling a need to reply. ‘I reckon,’ she said. ‘If you call on the Lord,’ he said, ‘He’ll lift you up, He’ll give you your heart’s desire. I’m a witness,’ he said, and smiled at her, ‘you call on the Lord, you wait on the Lord, He’ll answer. God’s promises don’t never fail.’ Her arm was in his, and she felt him trembling with his passion. ‘Till you come,’ she said, in a low, trembling voice, ‘I didn’t never hardly go to church at all, Reverend. Look like I couldn’t see my way nohow—I was all bowed down with shame… and sin.’ She could hardly bring the last words out, and as she spoke tears were in her eyes. She had told him that John was nameless; and she had tried to tell him something of her suffering, too. In those days he had seemed to understand, and he had not stood in judgment on her. When had he so greatly changed? Or was it that he had not changed, but that her eyes had been opened through the pain he had caused her? ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I done come, and it was the hand of the Lord what sent me. He brought us together for a sign. You fall on your knees and see if that ain’t so—you fall down and ask Him to speak to you to-night.’ Yes, a sign, she thought, a sign of His mercy, a sign of His forgiveness. When they reached the church doors he paused, and looked at her and made his promise. ‘Sister Elizabeth,’ he said, ‘when you go down on your knees to-night, I want you to ask the Lord to speak to your heart, and tell you how to answer what I’m going to say.’ She stood a little below him, one foot lifted to the short, stone step that led to the church entrance, and looked up into his face. And looking into his face, which burned—in the dim, yellow light that hung about them there—like the face of a man who has wrestled with angels and demons and looked on the face of God, it came to her, oddly, and all at once, that she had become a woman. ‘Sister Elizabeth,’ he said, ‘the Lord’s been speaking to my heart, and I believe it’s His will that you and me should be man and wife.’ And he paused; she said nothing. His eyes moved over her body. ‘I know,’ he said, trying to smile, and in a lower voice, ‘I’ma lot older than you.

• From Love & Sex: A Christian Guide to Healthy Intimacy (2018)

  Shame kept her from moving forward. She realized now her shame had been paralyzing her. When she told James last night she compared herself to the porn stars and had body image issues, just telling him that somehow freed her up to pursue the healing she needed. Her trust had been broken. James betrayed her. She was lied to, manipulated, and years were stolen. Today she felt the courage to say enough. Whatever it took, even if it meant telling a group of women how bad things had become in her marriage—Kaycie no longer cared. DESPISING THE SHAME A day earlier, Kaycie found a moment without the boys and she opened her Bible to Hebrews 12:1. She recalled how it said Jesus despised shame. She pondered how Jesus was betrayed by His disciple, Judas Iscariot. He was stripped naked, beaten, spit on, had a crown of thorns dug into his scalp, was crucified on a cross (a death reserved for the lowest of society), and He decided to despise the shame. It gave her courage to think that if He could reject shame under those circumstances then so could she. She would despise all of the shame and get real with a group of women she probably didn’t even know. At this point of her healing journey, Kaycie trusted Olivia, but she wondered if she could trust other women. She had to admit she had a lot of jealous feelings toward women. When James was caught up in his addiction, she saw how he lingered a little too long when he saw a gorgeous woman. She also saw how he flirted with other women right in front of her, as if she wasn’t in the room. Her blood still boiled at those memories. But with the memories came the determination she wasn’t going to stay in this place any longer. Enough! Olivia called her back and said, “Kaycie, I have one spot left, but here’s the deal—the group starts today at one. Is there any way you can make it?” “Let me see what I can do.” Kaycie hit the end call icon and called James. “Come on, James, answer the phone,” she said to no one. “James, glad you answered. I called Olivia this morning and left her a message saying I was ready to do her group. She just called me back and has one spot left. Here’s the deal: the group starts today at one. I know this is crazy last minute, but this is really important to me—to us. Can you come home and take care of the kids for me?”

• From Buddenbrooks: The Decline of a Family (1901)

  He even pointed his index finger to where to start... And Hanno stared at it and began to read. With a trembling voice and furrowed brows and lips, he read of the golden age that had first sprouted and cultivated loyalty and justice without avenger, of free will, without the rule of law. "Punishment and fear were absent," he said in Latin. 'Neither were threatening words read upon affixed tablets of bronze, nor did the pleading company shrink from the face of their judge...' He read with a tortured and disgusted expression on his face, reading badly and incoherently with will, deliberately neglecting individual ties which were penciled in Kilian's book spoke erroneous verses, faltered and worked his way forward with difficulty, always aware that the Ordinary would discover everything and pounce on him ... The thieving pleasure, seeing the open book in front of him made his skin tingle; but he was full of repugnance and cheated as badly as possible on purpose just to make the cheating less mean. Then he fell silent, and there was a stillness in which he dared not look up. This silence was terrible; he was convinced that Dr. Mantelsack had seen everything, and his lips were quite white. Finally the Ordinary sighed and said: 'O Buddenbrook, si tacuisses! You'll excuse the classic you for once!... Do you know what you did? You've dragged beauty into the dust, you've behaved like a vandal, like a barbarian, you're an amused creature, Buddenbrook, you can tell by the look of your nose! When I am wondering whether you were coughing all this time or whether you were uttering lofty verses, I incline more to the former view. Timm has developed little rhythmic feeling, but compared to you he's a genius, a rhapsode... Sit down, wretched man. You have learned, of course, you have learned. I can't give you a bad reference. You must have tried your best... Look, don't people tell you that you're musical, that you play the piano? How is that possible?... Well, it is good, sit down, you may have been industrious, it is good.” He wrote a satisfactory note in his paperback and Hanno Buddenbrook sat down. As it had been before with the rhapsodist Timm, so it was now. He couldn't help but feel genuinely struck by the praise that had been contained in Doctor Mantelsack's words. At that moment he was seriously of the opinion that he was a somewhat untalented but diligent student who had come out of the matter relatively with honors, and he clearly felt that all his classmates, not excluding Hans Hermann Kilian, held the same view. Something like nausea stirred inside him again; but he was too exhausted to think about what was happening. Pale and trembling, he closed his eyes and sank into lethargy... Dr. Mantelsack, however, continued the lesson. He proceeded to the verses to be prepared for today and called Petersen up.

• From Love & Sex: A Christian Guide to Healthy Intimacy (2018)

  Evan, Emily’s husband, spoke up, “Well, my story is a little different. Emily had to force me to get help. I was about to lose everything—my wife, my kids, my future—if I didn’t do something. She reached her limit of my emotional distance and checked my internet history to see what I was looking at. I blamed her for our sexual problems, when, truth be told, I was the one avoiding her, because I felt guilty for what I was doing behind her back. It wasn’t until I went and saw a therapist that I started to unpack my story. It’s still hard to talk about.” “Do you want to tell us more?” Olivia invited. “Yeah, it’s good practice, and what I have noticed is the more I tell it, the less shame I feel about it. So, I had an older cousin and he introduced me to porn and then wanted me to do some of the stuff to him we saw. It was exciting, but also revolting, so sex got really confusing for me. This went on for three years. Even with Emily, I wanted her, but I also felt anxious about getting that close to her. “After what happened with my cousin, I just started to shut down and not let people get too close to me. Porn felt okay, because it met my need for sex without letting another human in. Since I started seeing a therapist, I have worked through the sexual abuse with my cousin and I am working on learning how to let Em in. It is a journey and I hope she will stay with me long enough for us to see if we can form a secure attachment to each other. I don’t blame her for being angry with me. She has put up with a lot.” You could see Emily soften as she reached over and took Evan’s hand. “Emily, what are you experiencing right now?” Olivia wondered. “Hearing Evan’s story gives me empathy for him—something I had lost. I feel closer to him, because he is letting me in and telling me his story,” she said. Evan replied, “Yeah, it’s the weirdest thing. I thought if she knew the real me she would run like crazy to get away from me. Instead, telling her my story has created a bond we have never experienced.” “Is anybody identifying with Evan and Emily?” Yeses could be heard and people could be seen in the room connecting to their story. “Isn’t it true, emotional vulnerability builds an emotional connection? Telling our stories helps connect us to ourselves, God, and others, and it builds shame resiliency. In other words, shame loses much of its power when we share our experiences.” HEALING IN PROCESS

• From What Belongs to You (2016)

  I grew up at the height of the AIDS panic, when desire and disease seemed essentially bound together, the relationship between them not something that could be managed but absolute and unchangeable, a consequence and its cause. Disease was the only story anyone ever told about men like me where I was from, and it flattened my life to a morality tale, in which I could be either chaste or condemned. Maybe that’s why, when I finally did have sex, it wasn’t so much pleasure I sought as the exhilaration of setting aside restraint, of pretending not to be afraid, a thrill of release so intense it was almost suicidal. As I sat flipping through brochures, waiting for someone to collect and usher me elsewhere, I remembered the first time I was tested, in my last year of high school, at a free clinic in Michigan. I had left my hometown two years before, and in that time news had reached me of friends falling ill. I knew I must have been exposed to it, I had been extravagantly reckless; and as I waited for the nurse to call my name, two weeks after the test, I was sure of the news she would bring. My best friend was beside me, and I held his hand as the woman read me the results and I felt not relief, exactly, but disappointment, or something so bewilderingly mixed I still have no good name for it. Maybe it was just that I wanted the world to have a meaning, and that the meaning I wanted it to have was chastisement. For the first time since I had arrived, the clinic door opened, and the nurse I had spoken with that morning came in. She was moving slowly, holding between two fingers of one hand a thin plastic cup of coffee, the bottom sagging, distended with heat. Hello, she said in her strange accent, are you here for your results, and when I told her that I had been waiting for some time, that I was beginning to feel forgotten, her face darkened in sympathy. Well, she said, let’s see what we can do, and she turned and began speaking quickly to the receptionist. She referred to me as gospodinut , the gentleman, which surprised me; older people here usually call me momcheto , the boy, a friendly term I like more. Come with me, she said, turning, and I followed her to the room she had taken me to before, a strange weightlessness in my abdomen. I’ll be just a moment, she said, wait here, and then she knocked sharply on the laboratory door and opened it without waiting for an answer. She left the door ajar, and I could hear something of the conversation she had, or at least her voice, which was louder than the other and tinged with something like rebuke.

• From The Spiral Staircase: My Climb Out of Darkness (2004)

  But there was a third factor. Every time we visited the Western Wall, my eyes were drawn upward to the golden Islamic dome on the site formerly occupied by Herod’s temple, which had been destroyed by the Romans. The Dome of the Rock, I was told, was the first major building to be constructed in the Muslim world. Here was another faith that, in its earliest days, had been proud to declare to the world that it was firmly rooted in Judaism. Ahmed and his family took me up to the Dome one Saturday, and I stared at the rock from which the prophet Muhammad was said to have ascended to heaven. It was also the rock on which the prophet Abraham had offered his son to God, Ahmed explained. Again, I felt ashamed of my ignorance. I knew nothing—nothing at all— about any of these traditions. I had had no idea that Muslims venerated Abraham, but now Ahmed told me that the Koran revered all the great prophets of the past, even Jesus. And when we visited the Mosque of al-Aqsa at the southern end of Herod’s huge platform, I felt immediately at home. There were light, space, and silence. A bird flew in from outside: the mosque seemed to be inviting the world to enter, instead of shutting the profane world out. I watched Muslims sitting on the floor, studying the Koran— looking remarkably like the Jews studying Torah in the yeshiva as their lips mouthed the sacred language. This, I realized, was a form of communion. By repeating words that God had in some sense spoken to Muhammad, Muslims were taking the Word of God into their very being. By doing what God had somehow done, they were symbolically positioning themselves in the place where God was.

• From The Spiral Staircase: My Climb Out of Darkness (2004)

  John and I decided that we would call the series The First Christian. After only a few weeks’ exposure to modern New Testament criticism, I realized that I needed an expert adviser. I was completely unschooled, and in my zeal to expose the truth as I saw it, I could easily make serious mistakes. After some inquiries, John produced Michael Goulder of Birmingham University, a charming and learned scholar who had recently resigned his Anglican orders because he no longer believed in God. John assumed that he would, therefore, be a kindred spirit, but Michael quickly joined the ranks of those who thought that I should not be writing this series, because, he said, I simply did not know enough. And of course, he was quite right. He wrote John a long and extremely scathing letter about me, which John airily cast to one side. Michael was very, very tough. As I produced my draft scripts, he ripped them apart verbally over the telephone, sentence by jejune sentence, line by naïve line, and page by uninformed page. I needed this, and I learned fast. By the end we had become friends, and one of the best moments of the whole project was when Michael viewed the final version of the film and agreed to allow his name to appear alongside mine among the credits, saying that, much to his surprise, he could find no errors of fact. It was a baptism of fire, but I shall always be grateful to Michael for showing me not only how important it was but how rewarding it could be to insist on absolute accuracy in theological matters.

• From What Belongs to You (2016)

  For a moment, as I let my head fall until my forehead lay next to my arm, before I could feel anything else I was grateful to Mitko. He stayed with me a little longer, wrapping his arms around me more tightly, as if he were holding me in place; and then there was a last pressure of his lips on my neck and he was gone. I left my head resting on the tile, taking deep breaths, feeling my organism settle with a sensation like the clicking of metal as it cools. Without opening my eyes, I pulled on the lever to flush the urinal, then again, and then a third time. I was used to feeling regret in such moments, of course, sometimes I thought it was part of my pleasure, like a bitter taste making a flavor more rich; but I felt something stronger now, I was sick, I was infectious, and children came here, I thought, remembering that locked room as I flushed the urinal again and again. Then I stepped into the stall and unwound a mass of toilet paper, which I wet at the sink and used to wipe down the lever I had just touched, as well as the wall where I had braced myself, though there could be no danger there; and then I began wiping down the porcelain itself, inside and out. I knew the whole performance was excessive, I was wiping surfaces unlikely ever to be touched, but I kept at it as the paper dissolved in my hand. Finally I carried the wet mass to the toilet, and then I stood for some time at the sink, washing my hands. Only then did I let myself think of R., as I looked at myself in the mirror, my face still flushed. He loves you, I said, whispering the words out loud. And then I said it again. I saw that Mitko had cleared the table when I stepped out of the bathroom. Only the paper cup of the milkshake was left, and he leaned over it with his elbows planted on the table, looking at me with his head quizzically cocked. He looked like a child, I thought, as I had so often before. He watched me with a kind of guarded expectancy, as if he knew he hadn’t acted strictly as he should, but thought he had been so charming he could still expect a reward. When he asked me if everything was all right, I said Yes yes, everything was fine.

• From What Belongs to You (2016)

  It had been a long, anxious weekend, and I had hardly needed to exaggerate when I wrote to my department chair that I was too ill to come in, freeing the next day for the clinic. I was caught up again in the poetry of the illness, as it were, that aura or miasma of shame; I felt unclean, I wanted to hide myself away, feeling, for all I had learned of the disease, that even touching someone might contaminate them. I washed my hands compulsively, and made obsessive use of the little bottles of antiseptic gel that most teachers keep close by. I stayed at home as much as I could, and when I had to go out I shied away from any kind of contact, careful not to bump or nudge into people on the street or in the grocery store, which is difficult to avoid here, where there’s such a different idea of personal space. I had been sick before, of course, but this felt like more than sickness, like a physical confirmation of shame. I told R. everything on Friday night. I called him on Skype as soon as I saw him online; I had been waiting for a while, he had been out with friends and got home later than planned. He was still in his street clothes when his image filled my screen, his hair mussed from the hat he had just pulled off. He was already in the middle of a sentence when his voice came through, apologizing for being so late, and it took him a moment to notice that something was wrong. What is it, he said, what happened? I couldn’t bring myself to speak for a minute and then I spoke like a child, I said I have to tell you something, I’m sorry, please don’t get mad. What is it, he said again, a little frightened now, just tell me. And I did, watching his face as I told him about Mitko’s visit and the clinic and what they had said. I didn’t know how he would respond; I thought he would be angry, I was even afraid he might end everything between us. But he only took a somewhat deeper breath and said All right, I’ll get tested, it’s not a big deal, right, the worst case is a shot. Calm down, he said, and I was flooded with gratitude and relief.

• From What Belongs to You (2016)

  Though I can’t remember the season or year or anything that was said, I remember the room, the ornamental bulbs and the tile and the water already running, the mirror obscured with fog; and I remember my father, his body large and bare, the fascination of it and its availability in the small space where, laughing, we wrestled to stay beneath the hot stream of water. I was old enough to wash myself but we still touched each other; he would ask me to wash his back, which was difficult for him to reach, and then he would wash mine in turn. Though he was often severe and sometimes cruel he was gentle with me there; if the soap ran into my eyes he would rinse them, tilting my face up with his hand, a kind of physical care he seldom undertook. We had stepped out of the water onto the tiles, which could be slick, he reminded me each time, Be careful, he said, and then I approached him, not with any specific intent but perhaps not innocently either, I can’t be sure after so many years, as I can no longer recall whether he was facing me or looking away, though he must have been looking away or he would have stopped me or avoided my touch. Or maybe it’s more true to say I was innocent but not without intent, what was it but an intention that drove me, a bodily intention; I wanted to touch him, not with an outcome in mind but with an ache, perhaps not an intention but an ache, which drove me to him and which he felt, too, when I put my arms around him and pressed my body to his and he felt my erection where it touched him. That was the end of care, he thrust me away without a thought for the slickness of the tiles; and when I looked at his face, which was twisted in disgust, it was as if I saw his true face, his authentic face, not the learned face of fatherhood. He covered himself quickly and left the room, saying nothing, but his look entered me and settled there and has never left, it rooted beneath memory and became my understanding of myself, my understanding and expectation. From that day, all the ease we had enjoyed together was gone.

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

  AUGUSTINE. (Tr. cxiii) But what wonder, if God foretold truly, man presumed falsely. Respecting this denial of Peter we should remark, that Christ is not only denied by him, who denies that He is Christ, but by him also who denies himself to be a Christian. For the Lord did not say to Peter, Thou shalt deny that thou art My disciple, but, Thou shalt deny Me. (Luke 22:34) He denied Him then, when he denied that he was His disciple. And what was this but to deny that he was a Christian? How many afterwards, even boys and girls, were able to despise death, confess Christ, and enter courageously into the kingdom of heaven; which he who received the keys of the kingdom, was now unable to do? Wherein we see the reason for His saying above, Let these go their way, for of those which Thou hast given Me, have I lost none. If Peter had gone out of this world immediately after denying Christ, He must have been lost. CHRYSOSTOM. (Serm. de Petro et Elia.) Therefore did Divine Providence permit Peter first to fall, in order that he might be less severe to sinners from the remembrance of his own fall. Peter, the teacher and master of the whole world, sinned, and obtained pardon, that judges might thereafter have that rule to go by in dispensing pardon. For this reason I suppose the priesthood was not given to Angels; because, being without sin themselves, they would punish sinners without pity. Passible man is placed over man, in order that remembering his own weakness, he may be merciful to others. THEOPHYLACT. Some however foolishly favour Peter, so far as to say that he denied Christ, because he did not wish to be away from Christ, and he knew, they say, that if he confessed that he was one of Christ’s disciples, he would be separated from Him, and would no longer have the liberty of following and seeing his beloved Lord; and therefore pretended to be one of the servants, that his sad countenance might not be perceived, and so exclude him: And the servants and officers stood there, who had made a fire of coals, and warmed themselves; and Peter stood with them, and warmed himself. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. cxiii) It was not winter, and yet it was cold, as it often is at the vernal equinox. GREGORY. (ii. Mor. c. 11) The fire of love was smothered in Peter’s breast, and he was warming himself before the coals of the persecutors, i. e. with the love of this present life, whereby his weakness was increased. 18:19–2119. The high priest then asked Jesus of his disciples, and of his doctrine. 20. Jesus answered him, I spake openly to the world; I ever taught in the synagogue, and in the temple, whither the Jews always resort; and in secret have I said nothing.

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

  50. And he said to the woman, Thy faith hath saved thee: go in peace. BEDE. Having said just before, And the people that heard him justified God, being baptized with the baptism of John, the same Evangelist builds up in deed what he had proposed in word, namely, wisdom justified by the righteous and the penitent, saying, And one of the Pharisees desired him, &c. GREGORY OF NYSSA. (Hom. de Mul. Peccat.) This account is full of precious instruction. For there are very many who justify themselves, being puffed up with the dreamings of an idle fancy, who before the time of judgment comes, separate themselves as lambs from the herds, not willing even to join in eating with the many, and hardly with those who go not to extremes, but keep the middle path in life. St. Luke, the physician of souls rather than of bodies, represents therefore our Lord and Saviour most mercifully visiting others, as it follows, And he went into the Pharisees’ house, and sat down to meat. Not that He should share any of his faults, but might impart somewhat of His own righteousness. CYRIL OF ALEXANDRIA. A woman of corrupt life, but testifying her faithful affection, comes to Christ, as having power to release her from every fault, and to grant her pardon for the crimes she had committed. For it follows, And behold a woman in the city, which was a sinner, brought an alabaster box of ointment. BEDE. Alabaster is a kind of white marble tinged with various colours, which is generally used for vessels holding ointment, because it is said to be the best sort for preserving the ointment sweet. GREGORY. (in Hom. 33. in Ev.) For this woman, beholding the spots of her shame, ran to wash them at the fountain of mercy, and blushed not at seeing the guests, for since she was courageously ashamed of herself within, she thought there was nothing which could shame her from without. Observe with what sorrow she is wrung who is not ashamed to weep even in the midst of a feast! GREGORY OF NYSSA. (ubi sup.) But to mark her own unworthiness, she stands behind with downcast eyes, and with her hair thrown about embraces His feet, and washing them with her tears, betokened a mind distressed at her state, and imploring pardon. For it follows, And standing behind, she began to wash his feet with her tears.

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

  24. The Son of man goeth as it is written of him: but woe unto that man by whom the Son of man is betrayed! it had been good for that man if he had not been born. 25. Then Judas, which betrayed him, answered and said, Master, is it I? He said unto him, Thou hast said. JEROME. The Lord had above foretold His Passion, He now foretels who is to be the traitor; thus giving him place of repentance, when he should see that his thoughts and the secret designs of his heart were known. REMIGIUS. With the twelve, it is said, for Judas was personally among them, though he had ceased to be so in merit. JEROME. Judas acts in every thing to remove all suspicion of his treachery. REMIGIUS. And it is beautifully said, When even was come, because it was in the evening that the Lamb was wont to be slain. RABANUS. For this reason also, because in Christ’s Passion, wherein the true sun hasted to his setting, eternal refreshment was made ready for all believers. CHRYSOSTOM. The Evangelist relates how as they sat at meat, Jesus declares Judas’ treachery, that the wickedness of the betrayer may be more apparent from the season and the circumstances. LEO. (Serm. 58.3.) He shews that the conscience of His betrayer was known to Him, not meeting his wickedness with a harsh and open rebuke, that penitence might find a readier way to one who had not been disgraced by public dismissal. ORIGEN. Or, He spoke generally, to prove the nature of each of their hearts, and to evince the wickedness of Judas, who would not believe in One who knew his heart. I suppose that at first he supposed that the thing was hid from Him, deeming Him man, which was of unbelief; but when he saw that his heart was known, he embraced the concealment offered by this general way of speaking, which was shamelesness. This also shews the goodness of the disciples, that they believed Christ’s words more than their own consciences, for they began each to say, Lord, is it I? For they knew by what Jesus had taught them that human nature is readily turned to evil, and is in continual struggle with the niters of the darkness of this world; (Eph. 6:12.) whence they ask as in fear, for by reason of our weakness the future is an object of dread to us. When the Lord saw the disciples thus alarmed for themselves, He pointed out the traitor by the mark of the prophetic declaration, He that hath eaten bread with me hath wantonly overthrown me. (Ps. 41:9.)

• From What Belongs to You (2016)

  I was helpless, I wanted to take care of him but I didn’t know how, and when he was calm again I asked him what he wanted. I want to go home, he said, still on his hands and knees, and so I left him there to go find my father. I knew he was already awake, I had heard him moving on the floor above us, and when I opened the door at the top of the stairs I found him in the kitchen alone. He was standing at the sink with his back to the door, and though he must have heard me coming up the stairs he didn’t turn to greet or acknowledge me, not even when I began to speak. It was barely dawn, he was watching the first light rise through the window above the sink, a moment of quiet I interrupted when I told him that K. was sick, that he needed to go home. Could he drive us, I asked, and then I added as I always did with my father a kind of apology, so that even before he answered I had apologized for asking. All right, he said, and though he didn’t move from the window or turn around I understood that I should hurry to get us ready, that having disturbed my father I shouldn’t also make him wait. I went back downstairs to K., who was calmer now; he had risen from his knees to the edge of the bed, where he was bracing himself with his hands. He thought he would be all right on the ride, he said, he just wanted to be home, he would feel better there. I took towels from the bathroom and began to clean up his mess, which shamed me somehow, I didn’t want my father to see it. When K. moved as if to help me I motioned him back, though I could see that he was ashamed too, that he was mortified to have me clean up after him. Please, he said, but I motioned him back, I couldn’t say exactly why, I told him to get his things together instead.

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  The rest of the night was spent by the discomfited gallant in such reflections as these, mingled with tears^ groans, and wailings indescribable. In the morning he feigned illness, to conceal the mangled state of his coun- tenance, pretending all the while the company remained in the house that he could not endure the light. The lady, who was convinced that there was no one at the court capable of so audacious an act except the man who had the boldness to declare his love to her, searched the chamber with the lady of honour; but not finding a pas- sage through which anyone could have entered, she broke into a towering passion. " Be assured," she said to the lady of honour, " that the lord of this mansion is the man, and that I will make such a report to-morrow morning to my brother that the culprit's head shall bear witness to my chastity." "I am delighted, madam," said her wary attendant, who saw what a transport of rage she was in — " I am delighted that honour is so precious in your eyes that, for its sake, you would not spare the life of a man who has put it in jeopardy through excess of love. But in this, as in every other matter, one may fall backwards when thinking to advance. Therefore, tell me, madam, the plain truth. Has he had anything of you .'' " " Nothing, I do assure you," replied the princess, '' besides scratches and cuffs ; and unless he has found a very clever surgeon, I am sure he will show the marks cf them to-morrow." " That being the case, madam, it strikes me you ought rather to praise God than think of vengeance First day.\ QUEEN OF NA VARRE. 3g

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

  I answer that, Since reproach is opposed to honor, just as honor denotes attestation to someone’s excellence, especially the excellence which is according to virtue, so too reproach, the fear of which is shamefacedness, denotes attestation to a person’s defect, especially that which results from sin. Hence the more weighty a person’s attestation is considered to be, the more does he make another person ashamed. Now a person’s attestation may be considered as being more weighty, either because he is certain of the truth or because of its effect. Certitude of the truth attaches to a person’s attestations for two reasons. First on account of the rectitude of his judgement, as in the case of wise and virtuous men, by whom man is more desirous of being honored and by whom he is brought to a greater sense of shame. Hence children and the lower animals inspire no one with shame, by reason of their lack of judgment. Secondly, on account of his knowledge of the matter attested, because “everyone judges well of what is known to him” [*Ethic. i, 3]. In this way we are more liable to be made ashamed by persons connected with us, since they are better acquainted with our deeds: whereas strangers and persons entirely unknown to us, who are ignorant of what we do, inspire us with no shame at all. An attestation receives weight from its effect by reason of some advantage or harm resulting therefrom; wherefore men are more desirous of being honored by those who can be of use to them, and are more liable to be made ashamed by those who are able to do them some harm. And for this reason again, in a certain respect, persons connected with us make us more ashamed, since we are to be continually in their society, as though this entailed a continual harm to us: whereas the harm that comes from strangers and passersby ceases almost at once. Reply to Objection 1: People of the better sort make us ashamed for the same reason as those who are more closely connected with us; because just as the attestation of the better men carries more weight since they have a more universal knowledge of things, and in their judgments hold fast to the truth: so, too, the attestation of those among whom we live is more cogent since they know more about our concerns in detail. Reply to Objection 2: We fear not the attestation of those who are connected with us in the likeness of sin, because we do not think that they look upon our defect as disgraceful. Reply to Objection 3: Tale-bearers make us ashamed on account of the harm they do by making many think ill of us.

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

  Reply to Objection 4: Even those among whom we have done no wrong, make us more ashamed, on account of the harm that would follow, because, to wit, we should forfeit the good opinion they had of us: and again because when contraries are put in juxtaposition their opposition seems greater, so that when a man notices something disgraceful in one whom he esteemed good, he apprehends it as being the more disgraceful. The reason why we are made more ashamed by those of whom we ask something for the first time, or whose friends we wish to be, is that we fear to suffer some injury, by being disappointed in our request, or by failing to become their friends. Whether even virtuous men can be ashamed?Objection 1: It would seem that even virtuous men can be ashamed. For contraries have contrary effects. Now those who excel in wickedness are not ashamed, according to Jer. 3:3, “Thou hadst a harlot’s forehead, thou wouldst not blush.” Therefore those who are virtuous are more inclined to be ashamed. Objection 2: Further, the Philosopher says (Rhet. ii, 6) that “men are ashamed not only of vice, but also of the signs of evil”: and this happens also in the virtuous. Therefore virtuous men can be ashamed. Objection 3: Further, shamefacedness is “fear of disgrace” [*Ethic. iv, 9]. Now virtuous people may happen to be ignominious, for instance if they are slandered, or if they suffer reproach undeservedly. Therefore a virtuous man can be ashamed. Objection 4: Further, shamefacedness is a part of temperance, as stated above ([3464]Q[143]). Now a part is not separated from its whole. Since then temperance is in a virtuous man, it means that shamefacedness is also. On the contrary, The Philosopher says (Ethic. iv, 9) that a “virtuous man is not shamefaced.” I answer that, As stated above ([3465]AA[1],2) shamefacedness is fear of some disgrace. Now it may happen in two ways that an evil is not feared: first, because it is not reckoned an evil; secondly because one reckons it impossible with regard to oneself, or as not difficult to avoid. Accordingly shame may be lacking in a person in two ways. First, because the things that should make him ashamed are not deemed by him to be disgraceful; and in this way those who are steeped in sin are without shame, for instead of disapproving of their sins, they boast of them. Secondly, because they apprehend disgrace as impossible to themselves, or as easy to avoid. In this way the old and the virtuous are not shamefaced. Yet they are so disposed, that if there were anything disgraceful in them they would be ashamed of it. Wherefore the Philosopher says (Ethic. iv, 9) that “shame is in the virtuous hypothetically.”

• From What Belongs to You (2016)

  It was almost empty, I saw with relief; an elderly couple occupied one bench, a teenage boy another. At the far end there was a door that led outside, and above the last office on the left I saw a sign for registration. The door to the office was closed, but at my knock a voice called for me to come in. A middle-aged woman was sitting at a desk with a newspaper spread in front of her, her right hand resting by a cup of coffee, clearly absorbed in a morning routine. She didn’t look up as I entered, her eyes still scanning the page, and turned to me only as I spoke, with an interest sparked, I suspected, by my accent. She returned my greeting and then looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to explain why I was there. I’ve received a positive result on a test, I said, handing her the note I had been given by the other clinic, I’m here for a second one to confirm it. All right, she said, rising slowly from the desk, as if loath to leave her coffee; have you had any symptoms, she asked, any sores, using the word rani , wounds, and when I said that I hadn’t, or none I had noticed, I knew they could be painless and small, she asked why I had gotten tested in the first place, whether I had any reason to think I might be infected. I hadn’t anticipated the question, and I paused before responding. A friend came to see me, I said finally, he told me that he had this sickness, he said that I should be tested. She raised her eyebrows just slightly at this, and then she said So you had contact with this person, using that word, which is the same in the two languages, kontakt ; and I repeated it back to her, looking her directly in the eyes, Yes, I had contact with him. I wouldn’t accept the shame she seemed to want me to feel, and she acknowledged this, I thought, dropping her gaze as she reached past me to open the door. Dobre , she said, all right, follow me. She made quick work of me in a room across the hall, not speaking as she swabbed and drew blood, and once again I was surprised by the lack of gloves. Then she ushered me out with the promise that someone would see me when I returned that afternoon for my results. I couldn’t bear the thought of spending hours in that long hallway with its bare benches, still occupied by the same patients, or would-be patients, who hadn’t moved and seemed resigned to a long wait.

• From Heptaméron (1559)

  " You may say what you please," replied Oisille, "but parental authority mu.st be obeyed, and if there be no father or mother, the will of the other relations must be respected. Otherwise, if everyone was free to marry according to fancy, how many cornuted marriages would there not be .'' Can anyone imagine that a young man and a girl from twelve to fifteen years of age know what is good for them ? Anyone who should carefully ex- amine would find that there are as many unhappy mar- riages among those made for love as those made by con- straint. Young people who do not know what they want take the first they meet without inquiry ; and then, when they come gradually to know the mistake they have committed, this knowledge leads them into still greater errors. Those, on the contrary, who have not been married voluntarily, have entered into that engage- Fifth Jay. -\ QUEEN OF NAVARRE. 389 ment by the advice and at the solicitation of persons who have seen more and possess more judgment than themselves : so that, when they come to experience the good they did not know, they enjoy it much better, and embrace it with much more affection." " Ay, madam," said Hircan, " but you forget that the girl was of ripe years and marriageable, and that she knew the injustice of her father, who let her vir- ginity grow musty for fear of rubbing the rust off his crown pieces. Do you not know that nature is a frisky jade ? She loved, she was loved, she found what she wanted ready to her hand, and she might call to mind the old proverb : ' She that will not when she may, when she will she shall have nay.' All these considera- tions, added to the promptitude of the assailant, left her no tim.e to defend herself. It has been remarked, too, that immediately afterwards a great change was noticed in her countenance. This change was the result of her dissatisfaction at having had so little time to judge whether the thing was good or bad : accordingly, she did not require very long coaxing to prevail on her to make a second trial." " For my part," said Longarine, " I should not think her excusable but for the good faith of the young man, who, acting like an honest man, did not forsake her, but to(^k her such as he had made her ; for which I think him the more deserving of praise, as youth in these days is very corrupt. I do not pretend for all that to excuse his first fault, which virtually amounted to rape with re- gard to the daughter, and subornation with regard to the mother." " Not at all, not at all," interrupted Dagoucin ; " there was neither rape nor subornation, but all hap- pened voluntarily, both on the part of the mothers, who

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

  Further, Cyprian says (Ad Pompon, de Virgin., Ep. lxii), “By their very intercourse, their blandishments, their converse, their embraces, those who are associated in a sleep that knows neither honor nor shame, acknowledge their disgrace and crime.” Therefore by doing these things a man is guilty of a crime, that is, of mortal sin. I answer that, A thing is said to be a mortal works. /sin in two ways. First, by reason of its species, and in this way a kiss, caress, or touch does not, of its very nature, imply a mortal sin, for it is possible to do such things without lustful pleasure, either as being the custom of one’s country, or on account of some obligation or reasonable cause. Secondly, a thing is said to be a mortal sin by reason of its cause: thus he who gives an alms, in order to lead someone into heresy, sins mortally on account of his corrupt intention. Now it has been stated above ([3537]FS, Q[74], A[8]), that it is a mortal sin not only to consent to the act, but also to the delectation of a mortal sin. Wherefore since fornication is a mortal sin, and much more so the other kinds of lust, it follows that in such like sins not only consent to the act but also consent to the pleasure is a mortal sin. Consequently, when these kisses and caresses are done for this delectation, it follows that they are mortal sins, and only in this way are they said to be lustful. Therefore in so far as they are lustful, they are mortal sins. Reply to Objection 1: The Apostle makes no further mention of these three because they are not sinful except as directed to those that he had mentioned before. Reply to Objection 2: Although kisses and touches do not by their very nature hinder the good of the human offspring, they proceed from lust, which is the source of this hindrance: and on this account they are mortally sinful. Reply to Objection 3: This argument proves that such things are not mortal sins in their species. Whether nocturnal pollution is a mortal sin?Objection 1: It would seem that nocturnal pollution is a sin. For the same things are the matter of merit and demerit. Now a man may merit while he sleeps, as was the case with Solomon, who while asleep obtained the gift of wisdom from the Lord (3 Kings 3:2, Par. 1). Therefore a man may demerit while asleep; and thus nocturnal pollution would seem to be a sin.