Shame
Shame travels through the body before it reaches language — the head drops, the chest contracts, the eye refuses contact. Vela treats it as a primary emotion in its own right, not a flavor of guilt, and pays attention to how rarely it stays alone: it arrives bundled with anger, with exposure-dread, with the temptation to hide and the temptation to perform.
Working definition · The sense that the self, not only the act, is flawed, exposed, or unworthy.
5329 passages · 5 Vela essays · in 1 cluster
Vela’s read on this emotion
Shame is one of the emotions Vela returns to most often, because the writers who have written most honestly about being human keep coming back to it.
The reading is primarily through memoir. Mary Karr returns to shame across her body of work — the alcoholic father, the mother who left, the long re-encounter with her own younger self. Carmen Maria Machado, in *In the Dream House*, writes about shame inside intimate-partner abuse in a register the genre had not previously held: the shame of staying, the shame of having seen, the shame of needing to tell. The testimony of the AIDS years — the personal essays and oral histories that came out of ACT UP, the activist coalition that confronted the early epidemic — keeps shame as a constant under-tone, alongside the rage.
Shame also runs through the Christian theological inheritance. Augustine of Hippo, writing the *Confessions* in the late fourth century, installed a particular shape of shame in the Western conscience — and almost every Christian thinker since has inherited that installation, ratified it, or argued against it. The lineage runs carefully through the reading.
Shame is not the same as guilt. Guilt is about an act — *I did a bad thing.* Shame is about the self — *I am a bad thing.* The two often arrive together, but they cost the person carrying them different things, and Vela reads them separately.
Shame travels in a family. Humiliation, mortification, embarrassment, exposure-dread, chagrin — each has its own pitch, but the family resemblance is unmistakable.
What is intentionally light here is the contemporary clinical literature. The choice is editorial: testimony is more textured than measurement. *On Shame* — the slower companion essay in the magazine — tracks the word's history and weight; this page opens onto the passages, the pairings, and the writers who have made shame a serious subject.
Study and magazine
Long-form guide in the magazine
*On Shame* — the slower companion essay. How the word lives in language, how it travels in the passages Vela reads, and how it differs from its near cousins. The historical pillar *Augustine, or How the West Learned to Be Ashamed* tracks the installation of the Western inheritance.
Read the guidePassages
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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5329 tagged passages
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.
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
I answer that, To speak so as to belittle oneself may occur in two ways. First so as to safeguard truth, as when a man conceals the greater things in himself, but discovers and asserts lesser things of himself the presence of which in himself he perceives. To belittle oneself in this way does not belong to irony, nor is it a sin in respect of its genus, except through corruption of one of its circumstances. Secondly, a person belittles himself by forsaking the truth, for instance by ascribing to himself something mean the existence of which in himself he does not perceive, or by denying something great of himself, which nevertheless he perceives himself to possess: this pertains to irony, and is always a sin. Reply to Objection 1: There is a twofold wisdom and a twofold folly. For there is a wisdom according to God, which has human or worldly folly annexed to it, according to 1 Cor. 3:18, “If any man among you seem to be wise in this world, let him become a fool that he may be wise.” But there is another wisdom that is worldly, which as the same text goes on to say, “is foolishness with God.” Accordingly, he that is strengthened by God acknowledges himself to be most foolish in the estimation of men, because, to wit, he despises human things, which human wisdom seeks. Hence the text quoted continues, “and the wisdom of men is not with me,” and farther on, “and I have known the science of the saints” [*Vulg.: ‘and I have not known the science of the saints’]. It may also be replied that “the wisdom of men” is that which is acquired by human reason, while the “wisdom of the saints” is that which is received by divine inspiration. Amos denied that he was a prophet by birth, since, to wit, he was not of the race of prophets: hence the text goes on, “nor am I the son of a prophet.” Reply to Objection 2: It belongs to a well-disposed mind that a man tend to perfect righteousness, and consequently deem himself guilty, not only if he fall short of common righteousness, which is truly a sin, but also if he fall short of perfect righteousness, which sometimes is not a sin. But he does not call sinful that which he does not acknowledge to be sinful: which would be a lie of irony. Reply to Objection 3: A man should not commit one sin in order to avoid another: and so he ought not to lie in any way at all in order to avoid pride. Hence Augustine says (Tract. xliii in Joan.): “Shun not arrogance so as to forsake truth”: and Gregory says (Moral. xxvi, 3) that “it is a reckless humility that entangles itself with lies.”
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
I answer that, Disgrace is seemingly opposed to honor and glory. Now honor is due to excellence, as stated above ([3449]Q[103], A[1]), and glory denotes clarity ([3450]Q[103], A[1], ad 3). Accordingly intemperance is most disgraceful for two reasons. First, because it is most repugnant to human excellence, since it is about pleasures common to us and the lower animals, as stated above ([3451]Q[141], AA[2],3). Wherefore it is written (Ps. 48:21): “Man, when he was in honor, did not understand: he hath been compared to senseless beasts, and made like to them.” Secondly, because it is most repugnant to man’s clarity or beauty; inasmuch as the pleasures which are the matter of intemperance dim the light of reason from which all the clarity and beauty of virtue arises: wherefore these pleasures are described as being most slavish. Reply to Objection 1: As Gregory says [*Moral. xxxiii. 12], “the sins of the flesh,” which are comprised under the head of intemperance, although less culpable, are more disgraceful. The reason is that culpability is measured by inordinateness in respect of the end, while disgrace regards shamefulness, which depends chiefly on the unbecomingness of the sin in respect of the sinner. Reply to Objection 2: The commonness of a sin diminishes the shamefulness and disgrace of a sin in the opinion of men, but not as regards the nature of the vices themselves. Reply to Objection 3: When we say that intemperance is most disgraceful, we mean in comparison with human vices, those, namely, that are connected with human passions which to a certain extent are in conformity with human nature. But those vices which exceed the mode of human nature are still more disgraceful. Nevertheless such vices are apparently reducible to the genus of intemperance, by way of excess: for instance, if a man delight in eating human flesh, or in committing the unnatural vice. OF THE PARTS OF TEMPERANCE, IN GENERAL (ONE ARTICLE)We must now consider the parts of temperance: we shall consider these same parts (1) in general; (2) each of them in particular. Whether the parts of temperance are rightly assigned?Objection 1: It would seem that Tully (De Invent. Rhet. ii, 54) unbecomingly assigns the parts of temperance, when he asserts them to be “continence, mildness, and modesty.” For continence is reckoned to be distinct from virtue (Ethic. vii, 1): whereas temperance is comprised under virtue. Therefore continence is not a part of temperance. Objection 2: Further, mildness seemingly softens hatred or anger. But temperance is not about these things, but about pleasures of touch, as stated above ([3452]Q[141], A[4]). Therefore mildness is not a part of temperance. Objection 3: Further, modesty concerns external action, wherefore the Apostle says (Phil. 4:5): “Let your modesty be known to all men.” Now external actions are the matter of justice, as stated above ([3453]Q[58], A[8]). Therefore modesty is a part of justice rather than of temperance.
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
AUGUSTINE. (Tr. xii. c. 6) What think we? that our Lord wished to insult this master in Israel? He wished him to be born of the Spirit: and no one is born of the Spirit except he is made humble; for this very humility it is, which makes us to be born of the Spirit. He however was inflated with his eminence as a master, and thought himself of importance because he was a doctor of the Jews. Our Lord then casts down his pride, in order that he may be born of the Spirit. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. xxvi. 2) Nevertheless He does not charge the man with wickedness, but only with want of wisdom, and enlightenment. But some one will say, What connexion hath this birth, of which Christ speaks, with Jewish doctrines? Thus much. The first man that was made, the woman that was made out of his rib, the barren that bare, the miracles which were worked by means of water, I mean, Elijah’s bringing up the iron from the river, the passage of the Red Sea, and Naaman the Syrian’s purification in the Jordan, were all types and figures of the spiritual birth, and of the purification which was to take place thereby. Many passages in the Prophets too have a hidden reference to this birth: as that in the Psalms, Making thee young and lusty as an eagle: (Ps. 102:5) and, Blessed is he whose unrighteousness is forgiven. (Ps. 31:1) And again, Isaac was a type of this birth. Referring to these passages, our Lord says, Art thou a master in Israel, and knowest not these things? A second time however He condescends to his infirmity, and makes use of a common argument to render what He has said credible: Verily, verily, I say unto thee, We speak that we do know, and testify that we have seen, and ye receive not our testimony. (ver. 11) Sight we consider the most certain of all the senses; so that when we say, we saw such a thing with our eyes, we seem to compel men to believe us. In like manner Christ, speaking after the manner of men, does not indeed say that he has seen actually, i. e. with the bodily eye, the mysteries He reveals; but it is clear that He means it of the most certain absolute knowledge. This then, viz. That we do know, he asserts of Himself alone. HAYMO. (Hom. in Oct. Pent.) Why, it is asked, does He speak in the plural number, We speak that we do know? Because the speaker being the Only-Begotten Son of God, He would shew that the Father was in the Son, and the Son in the Father, and the Holy Ghost from both, proceeding indivisibly.
From What Belongs to You (2016)
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. I was surprised he took it so calmly, more calmly than I had; I was usually the more dependable one, older and more settled, and after we logged off Skype I wondered if his calm would last, or whether he was just shocked at what I had told him, experiencing a kind of blankness before worry set in. And I was right, the next morning I woke to find my in-box full of e-mails he had sent through the night, each more anxious than the last. He had just graduated university and was still without a job, entirely dependent on his parents; he would have to ask them for money, he wrote, which would mean telling them the whole story.
From Heptaméron (1559)
The prior, having, as he thought, such a great hold on Sister Marie, went to Gif, where the abbess his creature never disputed a word that fell from, his lips. He began by exercising his authority as visitor, and summoned all the nuns one by one, that he might hear them in chamber in form of confession and visitation. Sister Marie, who had lost her good aunt, having at last appeared in her turn, he began by saying to her, " You know, Sister Marie, of what a crime you are accused ; and conse- quently you know that the great chastity you affect has availed you nothing, for it is very well known that you are anything but chaste." " Produce my accuser," replied Sister Marie, un- dauntedly, " and you will see how he will maintain such a statement in my presence." " The confessor himself has been convicted of the fact, and that must be proof enough for you," returned the prior. 222 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE \Nffvel 22. " I believe him to be such a good man," said Sister Marie, " that he is incapable of confessing such a false- hood. But even should he have done so, set him before me and I will prove the contrary." The prior, seeing she was not daunted, said, " I am your father, and as such I wish to be tender with your honour ; I leave the matter between you and your con- science, and will believe what you shall tell me. I con- jure you then, on pain of mortal sin, to tell me the truth. Were you a virgin when you entered this house } " " My age at that time, father, is warrant for my vir- ginity. I was then but five years old." " And since then, my daughter, have you not lost that fair flower .''" She swore she had not, and that she had never un- dergone any temptation except from him. " I cannot believe it," the hypocrite replied ; " it remains to be proved." " What proof do you require } " "That which I exact from other nuns. As I am the visitor of souls, so am I also of bodies. Your abbesses and prioresses have all passed through my hands, and you must not scruple to let me examine your virginity. Lay yourself on that bed, and turn the front of your robe over your face." " You have told me so much of your criminal love for me," replied Sister Marie, indignantly, "that I have reason to believe vour intention is not so much to ex- amine my virginity as to despoil me of it. So be assured I will never consent." " You are excommunicated," returned the prior, " to refuse obedience ; and unless you do as I bid you, I will dishonour you in full chapter, and will state all I know of you and the confessor."
From What Belongs to You (2016)
He looked up and smiled when he caught me watching him, and I smiled back. I asked him how he had passed the last two years, whether he had been in Varna, whether he had found work. He looked at me, briefly silent, and then, For a while I was in a bad place, he said and paused, as if unsure how to continue, or as if waiting for me to draw him out. What do you mean, I asked, what kind of place, and he set down his fork, which he had been holding in the palm of his hand like a child, all five fingers circled around the handle. I did some bad things, he said, and I was caught, and they put me away for a year. In prison, I asked stupidly, what else could it be, and he wagged his head yes. What did you do, I asked, remembering of course our scene in Varna, the face he had shown that seemed capable of so much, and that was so different from the face I looked at now. Mitko made a dismissive gesture with his shoulders, shrugging as he picked up his fork again. It was a job, he said, I worked for a guy in Varna. He helps people, he gives them money, if you need something you can go to him. But you can’t just take somebody’s money, he said, almost as if I had challenged him, you have to pay it back. And if somebody didn’t pay it back, he would send us. You would hurt them, I said, and he shrugged again. Malko , a little, but never too badly, and then, as if affronted, I never hurt anyone badly, I’m not that kind of person, there are people who do that but not me. He lowered his fork to his plate and pushed his food around a bit. And then, Mitko went on, if they still didn’t pay, we would go where they lived and take everything, and here he gestured around the room, as if imagining it stripped bare, the television, the computer, the furniture, we’d take all of it, he wouldn’t have anything left. But that’s normal, he said, again as if defending the justice of it, you can’t take somebody’s money and not pay it back. I didn’t challenge this statement or agree with it, I watched him without saying a word. And that’s it, he said, I had worked for him before, on and off, but this time I got in trouble, I had to go away. It wasn’t nice there, it’s a bad place, I won’t tell you what it was like.
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
BEDE. (in loc. c. 1) He calls Himself the light, whereof the Evangelist speaks, That was the true light; whereas sin He calls darkness. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. xxviii. 2) Then because it seemed incredible that man should prefer light to darkness, he gives the reason of the infatuation, viz. that their deeds were evil. And indeed had He come to Judgment, there had been some reason for not receiving Him; for he who is conscious of his crimes, naturally avoids the judge. But criminals are glad to meet one who brings them pardon. And therefore it might have been expected that men conscious of their sins would have gone to meet Christ, as many indeed did; for the publicans and sinners came and sat down with Jesus. But the greater part being too cowardly to undergo the toils of virtue for righteousness’ sake, persisted in their wickedness to the last; of whom our Lord says, Every one that doeth evil, hateth the light. He speaks of those who choose to remain in their wickedness. ALCUIN. Every one that doeth evil, hateth the light; i. e. he who is resolved to sin, who delights in sin, hateth the light, which detects his sin. AUGUSTINE. (Conf. l. x. c. xxiii. [34.]) Because they dislike being deceived, and like to deceive, they love light for discovering herself, and hate her for discovering them. Wherefore it shall be their punishment, that she shall manifest them against their will, and herself not be manifest unto them. They love the brightness of truth, they hate her discrimination; and therefore it follows, Neither cometh to the light, that his deeds should be reproved. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. xxvii. 2) No one reproves a Pagan, because his own practice agrees with the character of his gods; his life is in accordance with his doctrines. But a Christian who lives in wickedness all must condemn. If there are any Gentiles whose life is good, I know them not. But are there not Gentiles? it may be asked. For do not tell me of the naturally amiable and honest; this is not virtue. But shew me one who has strong passions, and lives with wisdom. You cannot. For if the announcement of a kingdom, and the threats of hell, and other inducements, hardly keep men virtuous when they are so, such calls will hardly rouse them to the attainment of virtue in the first instance. Pagans, if they do produce any thing which looks well, do it for vain-glory’s sake, and will therefore at the same time, if they can escape notice, gratify their evil desires as well. And what profit is a man’s sobriety and decency of conduct, if he is the slave of vain-glory? The slave of vain-glory is no less a sinner than a fornicator; nay, sins oven oftener, and more grievously. However, even supposing there are some few Gentiles of good lives, the exceptions so rare do not affect my argument.
From What Belongs to You (2016)
I was reassured, as I opened the door to the clinic, by a waiting room that wouldn’t have been terribly out of place in America. There were a number of women bustling behind the long counter in the aggressively heated room, which was already full, even though I had arrived shortly after they opened. I was nervous as I entered, and annoyed with myself for being nervous. For all its literary horror I knew syphilis was easily treated, I would only need antibiotics, probably a single shot. It was stupid to be embarrassed, I said to myself, it was an infection like any other. But as I stepped up to the counter none of this eased what I felt, which was strong and deep-seated, part of that larger shame of which my whole story with Mitko, from our first encounter to this deferred consequence, was merely the latest iteration. One of the women looked up, her fingers pausing at the keyboard, and my tension was relieved by a brightness of welcome I had grown unaccustomed to. She looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to speak, and when I asked in Bulgarian if she spoke English she seemed genuinely sorry that she didn’t, no, not a word. She turned to the other women behind the desk, all of whom confessed a similar helplessness. Wait just a moment, she said, picking up the phone, we’ll find someone, and as I stood I glanced around the waiting room, relieved that none of the eight or ten people sitting in the plastic chairs, none of them visibly ill, seemed to have paid us any mind. Here, the woman behind the desk said, standing now and leaning forward to point down a hallway lined with examination rooms, this woman can help you. I looked over to see a large and much older woman walking toward us, dressed in the formless uniform of an orderly or nurse, her thinning blond hair styled severely in a masculine cut. There was something severe in her face as well, for all its heavy roundness, a tightness about the lips suggesting not just a difficult morning but a more fundamental fatigue. Good morning, she said, a plummy British accent coming through the Balkan, what can we do for you today? She spoke more loudly than necessary, showing off her English, as people often do here, where the language when spoken well confers some prestige, and I realized I had already taken a dislike to her. Yes, I said, speaking not quite furtively but at a much lower volume, I would like to get a full set of tests, and then I paused, realizing I wasn’t sure of the words even in English, a full screening, I said finally, for STDs, thinking then that maybe the acronym would be lost on her, that I should have spoken the words in full.
From Heptaméron (1559)
370 THE HEPTAMERON OF THE {Nmel 43 " He is the more to be esteemed," replied Longarine, " because he overcame the evil disposition common to men. Blessed, unquestionably, is he who has it in his power to do evil yet does it not." "You put me in mind," said Geburon, "of a woman who was more afraid of offending men than God, her honour, and love." " Pray tell us the story,"' said Parlamente. " There are people," he continued, " who own no God, or who, if they believe there is one, think him so remote that he can neither see nor know the bad acts they com- mit ; or if He does, they suppose Him to be so careless and indifferent to what is done here below that he will not punish them. Of this way of thinking was a lady, whose name I shall conceal for the honour of her race, and call her Jambicque. She used often to say that to care only for God was all very well, but the main point with her was to preserve her honour before men. But you will see, ladies, that her prudence and her hypocrisy did not save her. Her secret was revealed, as you shall find from her story, in which I will state nothing but what is true, except the names of the persons and the places, which I shall change." NOVEL XL. Hypocrisy of a court lady discovered by the denouement of her amours, which she wished to conceal. A PRINCESS of great eminence lived in a very hand- some chateau, and had with her a lady named Jambicque, of a haughty and audacious spirit, who was, nevertheless, such a favourite with her mistress that she did nothing Fifth day \ QUEEN OF NAVARRE 37 1 but by her advice, believing her to be the most discreet and virtuous lady of her time. This Jambicque used to inveigh loudly against illicit love ; and if ever she saw- that any gentleman was enamoured with one of her companions, she used to reprimand the pair with great bitterness, and tell a very bad tale of them to her mis- tress, so that she was much more feared than loved. As for her, she never spoke to a man except aloud, and with so much haughtiness that she was universally regarded as an inveterate foe to love ; but, in her heart, she was quite otherwise. In fact, there was a gentleman in her mistress's service with whom she was as much in love as a woman could be ; but so dear to her was her good name, and the reputation she had made herself, that she entirely dissembled her passion.
From What Belongs to You (2016)
She had always been driven; as a child she worked harder than any of the rest of us in school, she excelled at sports, she was the president of her class, in everything she did she was exceptional. She questioned all of it now, she said, everything she had done, everything she had wanted, not just these public ambitions but also more private needs. We had never talked about sex before; she was so much younger and I had always shied away from it, though she knew something about my own history from the poems I had published, which she searched out and read with an attention they seldom, probably in no other case received. I just wanted to get it over with, she said about the first time she had sex, it was a relief, I didn’t want it to be a big deal. She was fourteen when she started sneaking out at night, she told me, boys would wait for her, their cars running on the next street over; they were always older guys, she said, first seniors at her school and then college students she met at parties. I’d lie about my age, she said, I’d say I was sixteen or seventeen and they’d believe me, or maybe they just pretended to believe me. It’s not like there were that many of them, she said, seeing the dismay I felt, I didn’t even have sex with all of them, I just liked being with them, I liked the attention. I don’t know why I cringed at her stories, when I had done so much worse at her age, having sex in parks and bathrooms, dangerous and indiscriminate sex; but I was troubled that her history seemed to parallel my own, that we shared what I had thought of as my own gnawing affliction. And I knew she would outgrow the satisfactions she had found, that soon she would desire other and more intense experiences, drawn forward by those appetites we share, that humiliating need that has always, even in my moments of apparent pride, run alongside my life like a snapping dog. Even these desires, I thought as I listened to my sister, seemed to descend from my father like an inherited disease. It was my father we spoke of that night after our party, as we always did when we were together; but now my sisters’ anger had changed, their mother had told them about my father’s cruelty, about his many affairs and her sense of abandonment. But G. already knew about those affairs, she said, she had known about them for a long time.
From What Belongs to You (2016)
She was very young, she told us, when she discovered my father’s infidelities, which already were unsettling her life, accounting for so much of the tension and noise around her, her parents’ incessant quarrels. She was thirteen or fourteen when she came upon the cache of Internet sites and chat rooms he visited; he hadn’t even bothered to hide them, my sister said, there wasn’t any password to crack, she had found them really without looking, less curious than bored as she clicked through files. It was his computer, but she was allowed to use it from time to time, so it wasn’t exactly forbidden territory she wandered when almost by accident she stumbled upon images he had saved, hundreds of them, she said, showing men with women, or two women alone. It was as though he had filed them by some logic of progression, the images growing ever more obscene and upsetting, little pageants of submission and need. It never occurred to her to go to her mother with what she had found, she said; she had already been enlisted in her parents’ battles, subjected to the cruelty of sparring adults in relation to their children, a cruelty that reduces those children to tools or weapons, to weapons of a particularly brutal kind. He had made her his partisan, her first thought was to protect him, and so she wasn’t only aware of what he was doing but implicated in it, that was the word she used, implicated. But it wasn’t only that, I imagined, it wasn’t just keeping his secrets that implicated her; I thought there must have been another fascination too as she told us how she went back again and again to his store of images, tracking how it changed, its additions and substitutions. And soon she wanted more, she became devious, she installed a program on his computer that recorded everything he typed. What, she said, seeing my surprise, it’s easy, there are a million of them, you just download one from the Internet, and I had to laugh, despite her story and the disquiet I felt. She could follow his tracks now, she went on, she had the passwords for the pages that had been locked, chat rooms and hookup sites, and not only that; in these new records she could pull up transcripts of his conversations, or not conversations exactly, since she could only see his side of them, a solitary voice calling out its desires. She read his profiles, the various selves he fashioned, all of them a mixture of the real and the ideal. Sometimes he said he was single, sometimes he lied about his age, in one he used a picture that was a decade old.
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
On the part of sin, there are two things which may withdraw man therefrom: one is the inordinateness and shamefulness of the act, the consideration of which is wont to arouse man to repentance for the sin he has committed, and against this there is “impenitence,” not as denoting permanence in sin until death, in which sense it was taken above (for thus it would not be a special sin, but a circumstance of sin), but as denoting the purpose of not repenting. The other thing is the smallness or brevity of the good which is sought in sin, according to Rom. 6:21: “What fruit had you therefore then in those things, of which you are now ashamed?” The consideration of this is wont to prevent man’s will from being hardened in sin, and this is removed by “obstinacy,” whereby man hardens his purpose by clinging to sin. Of these two it is written (Jer. 8:6): “There is none that doth penance for his sin, saying: What have I done?” as regards the first; and, “They are all turned to their own course, as a horse rushing to the battle,” as regards the second. Reply to Objection 1: The sins of despair and presumption consist, not in disbelieving in God’s justice and mercy, but in contemning them. Reply to Objection 2: Obstinacy and impenitence differ not only in respect of past and future time, but also in respect of certain formal aspects by reason of the diverse consideration of those things which may be considered in sin, as explained above. Reply to Objection 3: Grace and truth were the work of Christ through the gifts of the Holy Ghost which He gave to men. Reply to Objection 4: To refuse to obey belongs to obstinacy, while a feigned repentance belongs to impenitence, and schism to the envy of a brother’s spiritual good, whereby the members of the Church are united together. Whether the sin against the Holy Ghost can be forgiven?Objection 1: It would seem that the sin against the Holy Ghost can be forgiven. For Augustine says (De Verb. Dom., Serm. lxxi): “We should despair of no man, so long as Our Lord’s patience brings him back to repentance.” But if any sin cannot be forgiven, it would be possible to despair of some sinners. Therefore the sin against the Holy Ghost can be forgiven. Objection 2: Further, no sin is forgiven, except through the soul being healed by God. But “no disease is incurable to an all-powerful physician,” as a gloss says on Ps. 102:3, “Who healeth all thy diseases.” Therefore the sin against the Holy Ghost can be forgiven.
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
Whether it is right that schismatics should be punished with excommunication?Objection 1: It would seem that schismatics are not rightly punished with excommunication. For excommunication deprives a man chiefly of a share in the sacraments. But Augustine says (Contra Donat. vi, 5) that “Baptism can be received from a schismatic.” Therefore it seems that excommunication is not a fitting punishment for schismatics. Objection 2: Further, it is the duty of Christ’s faithful to lead back those who have gone astray, wherefore it is written against certain persons (Ezech. 34:4): “That which was driven away you have not brought again, neither have you sought that which was lost.” Now schismatics are more easily brought back by such as may hold communion with them. Therefore it seems that they ought not to be excommunicated. Objection 3: Further, a double punishment is not inflicted for one and the same sin, according to Nahum 1:9: “God will not judge the same twice” [*Septuagint version]. Now some receive a temporal punishment for the sin of schism, according to[2659] Q[23], A[5], where it is stated: “Both divine and earthly laws have laid down that those who are severed from the unity of the Church, and disturb her peace, must be punished by the secular power.” Therefore they ought not to be punished with excommunication. On the contrary, It is written (Num. 16:26): “Depart from the tents of these wicked men,” those, to wit, who had caused the schism, “and touch nothing of theirs, lest you be involved in their sins.” I answer that, According to Wis. 11:11, “By what things a man sinneth, by the same also he should be punished” [Vulg.: ‘he is tormented’]. Now a schismatic, as shown above [2660](A[1]), commits a twofold sin: first by separating himself from communion with the members of the Church, and in this respect the fitting punishment for schismatics is that they be excommunicated. Secondly, they refuse submission to the head of the Church, wherefore, since they are unwilling to be controlled by the Church’s spiritual power, it is just that they should be compelled by the secular power. Reply to Objection 1: It is not lawful to receive Baptism from a schismatic, save in a case of necessity, since it is better for a man to quit this life, marked with the sign of Christ, no matter from whom he may receive it, whether from a Jew or a pagan, than deprived of that mark, which is bestowed in Baptism. Reply to Objection 2: Excommunication does not forbid the intercourse whereby a person by salutary admonitions leads back to the unity of the Church those who are separated from her. Indeed this very separation brings them back somewhat, because through confusion at their separation, they are sometimes led to do penance
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
For the operation of the happy must be without any defect: and this knowledge is subject to an admixture of many errors. Some believed that there is no other ordainer of mundane things than the heavenly bodies; wherefore they said that the heavenly bodies are gods.—Some ascribed this order to the elements and to the things generated from them; as though they deemed the movements and natural operations thereof, not to be due to another ordainer, and the order in other things to be caused by them.—Some, deeming human acts not to be subject to any but a human ordinance, declared that men who cause order in other men are gods.—Accordingly this knowledge of God is not sufficient for happiness. Moreover. Happiness is the end of human acts. But human acts are not directed to the aforesaid knowledge as their end: indeed, it is in everyone almost from the very beginning. Therefore happiness does not consist in this kind of knowledge of God. Again. No one appears to be blamed for lacking happiness: nay, those who have it not and seek it are praised. Whereas he who lacks the aforesaid knowledge of God, is seemingly very much to be blamed: since it is a very clear sign of a man’s dullness of perception, if he fail to perceivesuch evident signs of God’s existence: even as a man would be deemed dull who, seeing man, understood not that he has a soul. Hence it is said in the Psalm (13:1–52:1): The fool hath said in his heart: There is no God. Further. Knowledge of a thing in general only, and not in respect of a property thereof, is most imperfect; for instance knowledge of man from the fact that he is moved, for this is a knowledge whereby a thing is known only potentially: because the proper is only potentially contained in the common. Now happiness is a perfect operation: and man’s supreme good must needs be in respect of what he is actually, and not in respect of what he is only potentially: since potentiality perfected by act has the aspect of a good. Therefore the aforesaid knowledge of God is not sufficient for our happiness. CHAPTER XXXIX
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
Reply to Objection 3: Nothing hinders two vices being contrary to one another. Wherefore even as detraction is evil, so is flattery, which is contrary thereto as regards what is said, but not directly as regards the end. Because flattery seeks to please the person flattered, whereas the detractor seeks not the displeasure of the person defamed, since at times he defames him in secret, but seeks rather his defamation. Whether flattery is a mortal sin?Objection 1: It seems that flattery is a mortal sin. For, according to Augustine (Enchiridion xii), “a thing is evil because it is harmful.” But flattery is most harmful, according to Ps. 9:24, “For the sinner is praised in the desires of his soul, and the unjust man is blessed. The sinner hath provoked the Lord.” Wherefore Jerome says (Ep. ad Celant): “Nothing so easily corrupts the human mind as flattery”: and a gloss on Ps. 69:4, “Let them be presently turned away blushing for shame that say to me: ’ Tis well, ’ Tis well,” says: “The tongue of the flatterer harms more than the sword of the persecutor.” Therefore flattery is a most grievous sin. Objection 2: Further, whoever does harm by words, harms himself no less than others: wherefore it is written (Ps. 36:15): “Let their sword enter into their own hearts.” Now he that flatters another induces him to sin mortally: hence a gloss on Ps. 140:5, “Let not the oil of the sinner fatten my head,” says: “The false praise of the flatterer softens the mind by depriving it of the rigidity of truth and renders it susceptive of vice.” Much more, therefore, does the flatterer sin in himself. Objection 3: Further, it is written in the Decretals (D. XLVI, Cap. 3): “The cleric who shall be found to spend his time in flattery and treachery shall be degraded from his office.” Now such a punishment as this is not inflicted save for mortal sin. Therefore flattery is a mortal sin. On the contrary, Augustine in a sermon on Purgatory (xli, de Sanctis) reckons among slight sins, “if one desire to flatter any person of higher standing, whether of one’s own choice, or out of necessity.”
From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)
On the contrary, It is written (I, qu. i, cap. Si quis Episcopus): “He that has been ordained shall profit nothing from his ordination or promotion that he has acquired by the bargain, but shall forfeit the dignity or cure that he has acquired with his money.” I answer that, No one can lawfully retain that which he has acquired against the owner’s will. For instance, if a steward were to give some of his lord’s property to a person, against his lord’s will and orders, the recipient could not lawfully retain what he received. Now Our Lord, Whose stewards and ministers are the prelates of churches, ordered spiritual things to be given gratis, according to Mat. 10:8, “Freely have you received, freely give.” Wherefore whosoever acquires spiritual things in return for a remuneration cannot lawfully retain them. Moreover, those who are guilty of simony, by either selling or buying spiritual things, as well as those who act as go-between, are sentenced to other punishments, namely, infamy and deposition, if they be clerics, and excommunication if they be laymen, as stated qu. i, cap. Si quis Episcopus [*Qu. iii, can. Si quis praebendas]. Reply to Objection 1: He that has received a sacred Order simoniacally, receives the character of the Order on account of the efficacy of the sacrament: but he does not receive the grace nor the exercise of the Order, because he has received the character by stealth as it were, and against the will of the Supreme Lord. Wherefore he is suspended, by virtue of the law, both as regards himself, namely, that he should not busy himself about exercising his Order, and as regards others, namely, that no one may communicate with him in the exercise of his Order, whether his sin be public or secret. Nor may he reclaim the money which he basely gave, although the other party unjustly retains it. Again, a man who is guilty of simony, through having conferred Orders simoniacally, or through having simoniacally granted or received a benefice, or through having been a go-between in a simoniacal transaction, if he has done so publicly, is suspended by virtue of the law, as regards both himself and others; but if he has acted in secret he is suspended by virtue of the law, as regards himself alone, and not as regards others.