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 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.

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

  AUGUSTINE. (Tr. xv. c. 15–18) Or thus; The woman as yet understands Him of the flesh only. She is delighted to be relieved for ever from thirst, and takes this promise of our Lord’s in a carnal sense. For God had once granted to His servant Elijah, that he should neither hunger nor thirst for forty days; and if He could grant this for forty days, why not for ever? Eager to possess such a gift, she asks Him for the living water; The woman saith unto Him, Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, neither come hither to draw. Her poverty obliged her to labour more than her strength could well bear; would that she could hear, Come unto Me, all that labour and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you. (Mat. 11:28) Jesus had said this very thing, i. e. that she need not labour any longer; but she did not understand Him. At last our Lord was resolved that she should understand: Jesus saith unto her, Go call thy husband, and come hither. What meaneth this? Did He wish to give her the water through her husband? Or, because she did not understand, did He wish to teach her by means of her husband? The Apostle indeed saith of women, If they will learn any thing, let them ask their husbands at home. (1 Cor. 14:35) But this applies only where Jesus is not present. Our Lord Himself was present here; what need then that He should speak to her through her husband? Was it through her husband that He spoke to Mary, who sat at His feet? CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. xxxii. 2) The woman then being urgent in asking for the promised water, Jesus saith unto her, Go call thy husband; to shew that he too ought to have a share in these things. But she was in a hurry to receive the gift, and wished to conceal her guilt, (for she still imagined she was speaking to a man:) The woman answered and said, I have no husband. Christ answers her with a seasonable reproof; exposing her as to former husbands, and as to her present one, whom she had concealed; Jesus said unto her, Thou hast well said, I have no husband. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. xv. c. 20) Understand, that the woman had not a lawful husband, but had formed an irregular connexion with some one. He tells her, Thou hast had fire husbands, in order to shew her His miraculous knowledge.

• From Collected Essays (1998)

  This is not so when we try to deal with the present, or attempt spec ulations about the future. Immediately after the failure, last Ju ne, of Montgomery's case against him, King returned to Atlanta. I entered, late, on a Sunday morning, the packed Ebenezer Baptist Church, and King was already speaking. He did not look any older, and yet there was a new note of anguish in his voice. He was speaking of his trial. He de- MAR TIN LUTHER KING 65 1 scribed the torment, the spiritual state of people who arc com mitted to a wrong, knowing that it is wrong. He made the trials of these white people far more vivid than anything he himself might have endured. They were not ruled by hatred, but by terror; and, therefore, if community was ever to be achieved, these people, the potential destroyers of the person, must not be hated. It was a terrible plea-to the people; and it was a prayer. In Va rieties of Religious Experience, William James speaks of vastation-of being, as opposed to merely re garding, the monstrous creature which came to him in a vision. It seemed to me, though indeed I may be wrong, that something like this had happened to young Martin Luther that he had looked on evil a long, hard, lonely time. For evil is in the world: it may be in the world to stay. No creed and no dogma are proof against it, and indeed no person is; it is always the naked person, alone, who, over and over and over again, must wrest his salvation from these black jaws. Perhaps young Martin was finding a new and more somber meaning in the command: "Overcome evil with good." The command does not suggest that to overcome evil is to eradicate it. King spoke more candidly than I had ever heard him speak before, of his bitterly assaulted pride, of his shame, when he found himself accused, before all the world, of having used and betrayed the people of Montgomery by stealing the money they had entrusted to him. "I knew it wasn't true but who would believe me?" He had canceled a speaking trip to Chicago, for he felt that he could not face anyone. And he prayed; he walked up and down in his study, alo ne. It was borne in on him, finally, that he had no right not to go, no right to hide.

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

  12. Christ, when He sent forth His disciples to preach, said to them: “Into whatever city or town you shall enter, enquire who in it is worthy “ (Matt. x. 11). The Gloss says on this verse, “We must choose our host by the testimony of his neighbours, lest his bad life should cause our preaching to be neglected.” Again, “He is worthy to entertain us, who understands that thereby he receives, rather than confers, a favour.” Hence it is highly reprehensible for preachers to condescend to wealthy sinners, and to those who do not esteem their abode with them to be a favour. 13. He who barters a spiritual for a temporal good commits the sin of simony, whether, like Giezi, he asks for a gift, or whether a gift be offered to him, like that which Elisha refused to accept from Naaman (4 Kings v.). The sin is equal, whether it be before or after the work that the gift is accepted (I, q. I. cap. Eos). Now he who preaches to the people exercises a spiritual ministry towards them. Hence a preacher should not accept their temporal gifts, whether he asks for them, or whether they offer them without being asked. 14. St. Paul says: “From all appearance of evil refrain yourselves” (1 Thes. v. 22). The Gloss adds: “If something appears to be wrong, although it be not actually wrong, do not do it impulsively.” Now it has a bad appearance for a preacher to seek material assistance from those to whom he preaches. Hence St. Paul said: “I seek not those things which are yours, but you” (2 Cor. xii). For, as the Gloss observes, “ the Apostle, lest he might seem to sell the Gospel, desired not gifts, but fruit.” In like manner, preachers ought not to beg for a livelihood from those to whom they preach. Our opponents, also, attempt to prove that alms ought not to be given to religious. 1. They, quote the words from Luke (xiv. 13), “When you make a feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame and the blind.” “From whom,” as the Gloss says, “there is nothing to be expected.” But you might gain something from strong and healthy beggars, who are often the parasites of rich men. Therefore, we ought not to give to the latter class of mendicant. 2. St. Augustine writes to Vincent the Donatist that “it is better to deprive a hungry man of food, than to give bread to one who, being sure of a livelihood, will forsake justice. For by succouring such a one, we connive at his evildoing.” Now he who will not work for his living when he is able, or he who can get food in a lawful manner without begging and yet prefers to beg, acts unjustly. Hence alms should not be bestowed upon him.

• From The Swimming-Pool Library (1988)

  It did not do so at first, it is true. It was something deeper than articulate thought—a twilight luxuriance of my own, a heretical fantasy. I did not even put up much of a fight when other men commented on our being together, & called him cruel, unthinking names. Perhaps I did not even want them to share the secret or to know how wrong they were. And the manners that were making us men kept the boys from insulting him to his face. Webster himself was scrupulously courteous, & considerately friendly to mild men who spoke to him. By a strange coincidence, the incursion of this black-skinned boy into my life was paralleled by the quartering of a goodish number of American soldiers at Winchester in the last year of the war, among them a squad of negroes. They excited a great deal of comment, appearing as they did in the profession which at that time we venerated above all others. One night in my last term I had gone on a secret escapade with some friends to the Willow Tree, & several of the soldiers were in the bar. They were noisy, but not I suppose dangerous or even unfriendly. After a while a tall, burly negro in the group came over & asked if we knew where he could get a girl for the night. We were all awed by his colour and his quiet but resonant voice, & we said we were sorry, we had no idea. ‘Well, what do you do?’ he wanted to know. There was something sarcastic beneath his respectful tone, and we blustered priggishly & inadequately. I suddenly thought how strange it was for a working man from America to be faced with these effete, distinguished youngsters of another colour, almost another language. I doubt if any of us, despite hints some of us put about, had ever had a girl anyway. He nodded at us contemptuously & said ‘I know what you fucking do.’ It was a word we sometimes used, but to hear it used against us by someone from the class where rough language (& ‘fucking’ itself) were known to thrive, was a shocking & belittling experience.

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

  When I was a boy, my mother took me to church. When I was about ten years old, I was outside of our church with my friends, one of whom had brought a visiting relative to the service. The visiting child was a shy, skinny boy about my height who was clinging to his cousin nervously. He didn’t say anything as the group of us chatted away. I asked him where he was from, and when this child tried to speak he stumbled horribly. He had a severe speech impediment and couldn’t get his mouth to cooperate. He couldn’t even say the name of the town where he lived. I had never seen someone stutter like that; I thought he must have been joking or playing around, so I laughed. My friend looked at me worriedly, but I didn’t stop laughing. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mother looking at me with an expression I’d never seen before. It was a mix of horror, anger, and shame, all focused on me. It stopped my laughing instantly. I’d always felt adored by my mom, so I was unnerved when she called me over. When I got to her, she was very angry with me. “What are you doing?” “What? I didn’t do…” “Don’t you ever laugh at someone because they can’t get their words out right. Don’t you ever do that!” “I’m sorry.” I was devastated to be reprimanded by my mom so harshly. “Mom, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.” “You should know better, Bryan.” “I’m sorry. I thought…” “I don’t want to hear it, Bryan. There is no excuse, and I’m very disappointed in you. Now, I want you to go back over there and tell that little boy that you’re sorry.” “Yes, ma’am.” “Then I want you to give that little boy a hug.” “Huh?” “Then I want you to tell him that you love him.” I looked up at her and, to my horror, saw that she was dead serious. I had reacted as apologetically as I possibly could, but this was way too much. “Mom, I can’t go over and tell that boy I love him. People will—” She gave me that look again. I somberly turned around and returned to my group of friends. They had obviously seen my mother’s scolding; I could tell because they were all staring at me. I went up to the little boy who had struggled to speak. “Look, man, I’m sorry.” I was genuinely apologetic for laughing and even more deeply regretful of the situation I had put myself in. I looked over at my mother, who was still staring at me. I lunged at the boy to give him a very awkward hug. I think I startled him by grabbing him like that, but when he realized that I was trying to hug him, his body relaxed and he hugged me back. My friends looked at me oddly as I spoke.

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

  Adultery is forbidden both to the wife and the husband. We shall first consider the adultery of the wife, since in this seems to lie the greater sin, for a wife who commits adultery is guilty of three grave sins, which are implied in the following words: “So every woman who leaves her husband,... first, is unfaithful to the law of the Most High; and secondly, she has offended against her husband; thirdly, she has fornicated in adultery, and hath gotten her children of another man” [Sir 23:32-33]. First, therefore, she has sinned by lack of faith, since she is unfaithful to the law wherein God has forbidden adultery. Moreover, she has spurned the ordinance of God: “What therefore God has joined together, let no man put asunder” [Mt 19:6]. And also she has sinned against the institution or Sacrament. Because marriage is contracted before the eyes of the Church, and thereupon God is called, as it were, to witness a bond of fidelity which must be kept: “The Lord hath been witness between you and the wife of your youth whom you have despised” [Mal 2:14]. Therefore, she has sinned against the law of God, against a precept of the Church and against a Sacrament of God. Secondly, she sins by infidelity because she has betrayed her husband: “The wife does not have power over her own body: but the husband” [1 Cor 7:4]. In fact, without the consent of the husband she cannot observe chastity. If adultery is committed, then, an act of treachery is perpetrated in that the wife gives herself to another, just as if a servant gave himself to another master: “She forsakes the guide of her youth, and has forgotten the covenant of her God” [Prov 2:17-18]. Thirdly, the adulteress commits the sin of theft in that she brings forth children from a man not her husband; and this is a most grave theft in that she expends her heredity upon children not her husband’s. Let it be noted that such a one should encourage her children to enter religion, or upon such a walk of life that they do not succeed in the property of her husband. Therefore, an adulteress is guilty of sacrilege, treachery and theft.

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

  II. On the second head it is to be noted, that a threefold evil comes through much speaking—(1) The evil of sin: Prov. 10:19, “In the multitude of words there wanteth not sin.” (2) The evil of punishment: Ecclus. 20:8, “He that useth many words shall hurt his own soul.” (3) The evil of infamy. Prov. 18:13, “He that answereth a matter before he heareth it, it is folly and shame unto him.” Of these three: S. James 3:6, “The tongue is a world of iniquity;” behold the first. “The tongue is an unruly evil, full of deadly poison;” behold the second. “The tongue among our members defileth the whole body;” behold the third. III. On the third head it is to be noted, that a threefold advantage flows to him who hears much and speaks little—(1) The good thing of grace: Ecclus. 32:9, “Hear in silence, and for thy reverence good grace shall come unto thee.” (2) The good thing of wisdom: Ecclus. 6:34, “If thou wilt incline thine ear thou shalt receive instruction, and if thou love to hear thou shalt be wise.” (3) Happiness and tranquillity of mind: Prov. 21:21, “Whoso keepeth his mouth and his tongue keepeth his soul from troubles,” &c. HOMILY X THE CONVICTION OF THE WORLD FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER EASTER.—(FROM THE GOSPEL)“And when He is come He will reprove the world of sin, of righteousness, and of judgment.”—S. John 16:8. IN these words three things are laid down, concerning which the Holy Spirit will reprove the world. Firstly, He will reprove of sin, because men ought not to commit it. Secondly, of righteousness, because men ought to perform it. Thirdly, of judgment, because men ought to fear it. I. On the first head it is to be noted, that sin is to be avoided for many reasons, but chiefly for three great evils which it brings to man—(1) Because it places man here in many miseries: Prov. 14:34, “Sin is a reproach to any people.” (2) Because it deprives man of eternal glory: Isa. 26:10, “In the land of uprightness will he deal unjustly, and will not behold the majesty of the Lord.” (3) Because it leads man to eternal punishment: S. Matt. 25:46, “These shall go away into everlasting punishment.” II. On the second head it is to be noted, that righteousness is chiefly to be followed for three reasons—(1) Because it places man in many joys: Ps. 19:8, “The statutes of the Lord are right, rejoicing the heart.” (2) Because it liberates man from perpetual death: Prov. 11:4, “But righteousness,” i.e., the works of righteousness, “delivereth from death,” i.e., eternal. Prov. 21:25, “He that followeth after righteousness and mercy findeth life.” (3) Because it leads man to eternal joys: S. Matt. 25:46, “The righteous into life eternal.”

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

  II. In like manner the trust of the wicked consists in seven things, which are to be gathered from the text. (1) In riches, Jer. 49:4, “Wherefore gloriest thou in the valleys, thy flowing valleys, O backsliding daughter? that trusted in her treasures.” (2) In stupidity and maliciousness, Isa. 47:10, “For thou trusted in thy wickedness: thou hast said, None seeth me. Thy wisdom and thy knowledge, it hath perverted thee; and thou hast said in thine heart, I am, and none else besides me.” (3) In the false array of the powerful, “Isa. 30:1, 2, 3, “Wo to the rebellious children … To strengthen themselves in the strength of Pharaoh, and having trust in the shadow of Egypt; therefore shall the strength of Pharaoh be your shame, and the trust in the shadow of Egypt your confusion.” “Pharaoh” is the prince of this world, “the shadow of Egypt” the power of this world. He is rightly called “confusion,” because often when help is looked for destruction follows; as also the shadow of the power of this world ends in ignominy. According as Isaiah says, 42:17, “They shall be turned back, they shall be greatly ashamed that trust in graven images”—i.e., in the appearance of power and in the powerful. (4) In the vain beauty of the flesh, Ezek. 16:15, “But thou didst trust in thine own beauty, and playedst the harlot because of thy renown, and pouredst out thy fornication upon every one that passed by.” (5) In the fortification of towers and walls, Deut. 28:52, “And he shall besiege thee in all thy gates until thy high and fenced walls come down wherein thou trustedst in all thy land.” (6) In the invocation of demons, Deut. 32:37, “Where are their gods, their rock in whom they trusted?” (7) In intercourse with that which is outward and unreal, Job 8:13, “The hypocrite’s hope shall perish; whose hope shall be cut off, and whose trust shall be a spider’s web.” From which trust may Christ deliver us. HOMILY XXIV THE SINNER HEALED TWELFTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.—(FROM THE GOSPEL)“They bring unto Him one that was deaf and had an impediment in his speech, and they besought Him to put His hands upon him.”—S. Mark 7:32. IN this Gospel three points are characteristically noted. Firstly, that the infirmity of every sinner is great and manifold, “Deaf and had an impediment in his speech.” Secondly, the means which are necessary for the healing, “And they besought Him,” &c. Thirdly, the varied benefit that results from his being healed, “His ears were opened and the string of his tongue loosed.”

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

  I. On the first head, the Apostle assigns in this Epistle four reasons through which sin should be avoided. (1) Because sin pollutes the mind “to uncleanness.” Hosea 9:10, “Their abominations were according as they loved.” (2) Because by sin man ignominiously subjects himself to servitude, “When ye were the servants of sin.” S. John 8:34, “Whosoever committeth sin is the servant of sin.” (3) Because great confusion flows from sin, “What fruit had ye then in those things whereof ye are now ashamed?” Jeremiah 17:13, “O Lord, all that forsake Thee shall be ashamed.” (4) Because by sin man is led to eternal death, “The wages of sin is death.” Psalm 33:22, Vulg., “The death of the wicked is very evil.” II. On the second head, it is to be noted, that likewise four reasons are given why good should be chosen. For men acquire four great things from the choice of that which is good. (1) Purity of the mind or sanctification, which is cleansing, S. Matt. 5:8, “Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God.” (2) Justice of the will “to righteousness.” For righteousness is a right will, S. Ansel., “Justice is rectitude of the will preserved on its own account.” (3) Liberty of the spirit, “Ye were free from righteousness.” 2 Cor. 3:17, “Where the Spirit of the Lord is there is liberty.” S. John 8:36, “If the Son, therefore, shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.” (4) Man by doing good obtains eternal life, “The gift of God is eternal life.” S. John 5:29, “And shall come forth they that have done good unto the resurrection of life.” S. Matt. 25:46, “Those shall go away into everlasting punishment, but the righteous into life eternal.” HOMILY XIV THE FEAST OF HEAVEN AND EARTH SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.—(FROM THE GOSPEL)“And He took the seven loaves and gave thanks, and brake and gave to His disciples to set before them.”—S. Mark 8:6, 7. THE Lord feeds His holy ones in a threefold manner. First, with corporeal bread, Psal. 104:14, “That He may bring forth food out of the earth.” Secondly, with spiritual bread, Prov. 20:13, “Open thine eyes,” i.e., the eyes of the heart to holy vigils, “and thou shalt be satisfied with bread,” i.e., with holy doctrine or with heavenly joys. Thirdly, with eternal bread, Psal. 132:15, “I will satisfy her poor with bread.”

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

  3. No one is blameworthy for not possessing happiness: nay, men who have it not, and go on tending to it, are praised. But lack of the aforesaid knowledge of God renders a man particularly blameworthy. It is a great indication of dulness of perception in a man, when he perceives not such manifest signs of God; just as any one would be counted lacking in perception, who, seeing a man, did not understand that he had a soul. Hence it is said in the Psalms (xiii and lii): The fool said in his heart: There is no God. 4. Knowledge of a thing in general, not descending into any details, is a very imperfect knowledge, as would be the knowledge of man merely as something that moves. By such knowledge a thing is known potentially only, for details are potentially contained in generalities. But happiness, being a perfect activity and the supreme good of man, must turn upon what is actual and not merely potential. CHAPTER XXXIX THAT HAPPINESS DOES NOT CONSIST IN THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOD WHICH IS TO BE HAD BY DEMONSTRATIONAGAIN there is another knowledge of God, higher than the last mentioned: this knowledge is acquired by demonstration, by means of which we come nearer to a proper knowledge of Him, since demonstration removes from Him many attributes, by removal of which the mind discerns God standing apart from other beings. Thus demonstration shows God to be unchangeable, eternal, incorporeal, absolutely simple, one. A proper knowledge of an object is arrived at, not only by affirmations, but also by negations. Thus as it is proper to man to be a rational animal, so it is proper to him also not to be inanimate or irrational. But between these two modes of proper knowledge there is this difference, that when a proper knowledge of a thing is got by affirmations, we know both what the thing is and how it is distinct from others: but when a proper knowledge of a thing is got by negations, we know that the thing is distinct from other things, but what it is remains unknown. Such is the proper knowledge of God that we have by demonstrations. But that is not sufficient for the final happiness of man. 1. The individuals of a species arrive at the end and perfection of that species for the most part; and natural developments have place always or for the most part, though they fail in a minority of instances through something coming in to mar them. But happiness is the end and perfection of the human species, since all men naturally desire it. Happiness then is a common good, possible to accrue to all men, except in cases where an obstacle arises to deprive some of it. But few they are who arrive at this knowledge of God by way of demonstration, on account of the difficulties mentioned above (B. I, Chap.IV). Such scientific knowledge then is not the essence of human happiness.

• From The Swimming-Pool Library (1988)

  I see in The Times today that Sir Denis Beckwith, following calls in the House for the reform of sexual offence law, is to leave the DPP’s office and take a peerage. Oddly typical of the British way of getting rid of troublemakers by moving them up—implying as it does too some reward for the appalling things he has done. Perhaps I will have the opportunity to argue with him over law reform in the House—perhaps the only occasion in Hansard when a Noble Lord will have challenged another such who more or less sent him to prison. And he is a man I could hate, the one who more than anybody has been the inspiration of this ‘purge’ as he calls it, this crusade to eradicate male vice. Though one always treated him with contempt, he will now be a powerful voice in the Lords, with others like Winterton and Ammon—though beside their ninnyish rant he will be the more powerful in his cultured, bureaucratic smoothness. I have the image of him before me now in the courtroom at my sentencing, to which he had come out of pure vindictiveness, and of his handsome suaveté in the gallery, his flush and thrill of pride as I went down … It was Graham who answered the phone. ‘Oh Graham, it’s Will Beckwith—is Lord Nantwich there?’ ‘I’m sorry, sir, he’s dining at his Club this evening.’ ‘At Wicks’s? When will he be back?’ ‘I don’t expect him until late, sir.’ ‘I’ll try again tomorrow.’ But tomorrow was too far away. I was so confused by this digest of disasters, I felt so stupid and so ashamed that I walked around the flat talking out loud, getting up and sitting down, scratching my crew-cut head as if I had lice. It was impossible so quickly to formulate a plan, but I felt the important thing was to go to Charles, to say something or other to him. It took me ages to get a cab, and as at last it locked and braked its way through the West End closing-time crowds, I found all my ideas of what I might do rattling away, leaving me in a queer empty panic. I left the cab in a jam a block from the Club and ran along the pavement and up the steps. The porter emerged from his cabin with an expression of moody servility and told me Charles had left quarter of an hour before. I hardly thanked him, but dawdled out again, realising that at this moment he was probably roaring along the Central Line on his way home. I drifted around in front of the Club as if waiting for somebody, hands in jacket-pockets, chewing my lip.

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  At first glance, he appeared to be an uninteresting, diligent student; the cynical tone of voice he used toward people and life, together with the fact that he had a frail build similar to mine, aroused a sympathetic attraction in me. But while my cynicism came from a desire for creating an impression and for self-defense, the same attitude in him seemed to be rooted in some firmer feeling of self-confidence. I wondered where he got his confidence. After a tim e he guessed that I was still a virgin and, speaking with a mixture of overwhelming superiority and self-contempt, confessed that he had been visiting brothels. Then he sounded out my feelings on the subject. ". . . So if you'd like to go sometime, just give me a call. I'll take you any time." "H'm. If I want to go, all right. . . . Maybe. . . . I'll make up my mind soon," I answered. He seemed abashed, and yet triumphant. His expression reflected my own feeling of shame; it was as though he thought he completely understood my present state of mind and was being reminded of the time when he himself had experienced exactly the same feelings. I felt harassed. It was that restless feeling, already well-established in me, of wanting actually to have the feelings with which I was credited. Prudery is a form of selfishness, a means of self-protection made necessary by the strength of one's own desires. But my true desires were so secret that they did not allow even this form of self-indulgence. And at the same time any imaginary desires—that is, my simple and abstract curiosity concerning women—allowed me such a cold freedom that there was almost no room for this selfishness in them either. There is no virtue in curiosity. In fact, it might even be the most immoral desire a man can possess.I devised a pathetic secret exercise. It consisted of testing my desire by staring fixedly at pictures of naked women. . . . As may be easily imagined, my desire answered neither yes or no. Upon indulging in that bad habit of mine, I would try to discipline my desire, first by refraining from my usual daydreams, and later by forcibly calling up mental images of women in the most obscene poses. At times it seemed my efforts were successful. But there was a falseness about this success that seemed to grind my heart into powder. At last I decided it was sink or swim. I telephoned my friend and asked him to meet me one Sunday afternoon at five o'clock at a certain teashop. This was toward the middle of January in the second year after the end of the war. "So you finally made up your mind?" He laughed delightedly over the telephone. "All right, I'll be there.

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  My entire calculation, which I had thought so very exact, had been destroyed by the discovery of that error I had made at the very outset, and consequently I had no idea how to analyze the feelings I had now when I looked at Sonoko. "Must you really go?""Yes, it's a must." I almost felt happy as I gave the answer. Again the machinery of deception had begun to work within me, superficially at first. My feeling of happiness was actually nothing but the emotion one feels upon escaping a great danger, but I interpreted it as arising out of a feeling of superiority toward Sonoko, out of the knowledge that I now possessed new power to tantalize her. Self-deception was now my last ray of hope. A person who has been seriously wounded does not demand that the emergency bandages that save his life be clean. I arrested my bleeding with the bandages of self-deception, with which I was at least already familiar, and thought of nothing but running to the hospital. I purposely described that slipshod arsenal to Sonoko as the strictest of barracks, insisting that if I did not return to it the next day I'd probably be put in a military prison. . . . The morning of my departure had arrived and I found myself gazing intently at Sonoko—like a traveler looking for the last time upon a scene he is about to leave. I now realized that everything was over—even though the people around me were thinking that everything was just beginning—even though I too was wanting to deceive myself and surrender to the atmosphere of gentle vigilance with which her family surrounded me.And yet Sonoko's air of tranquillity made me feel uneasy. She was helping me pack my bag, searching the room to see if I had forgotten something. After a time she stopped before a window and stared out it, not moving. Today again there was nothing to be seen distinctly except the cloudy sky and the fresh green leaves. The invisible passage of a squirrel had set a branch to swaying. As I looked at Sonoko's back something about her posture made it abundantly clear that she was quietly but childishly waiting. Given my methodical ways, I could no more have ignored this than I can endure leaving a room without closing the closet doors. I walked up behind her and embraced her gently. "You will come again, without fail, won't you?" She spoke easily, in a tone of complete confidence. It somehow sounded as though she had confidence not so much in me as in something deeper, something beyond me. Her shoulders were not shaking. The lace on her blouse was rising and falling as though proudly. "H'm, perhaps so, if I'm still alive." I was disgusted with myself as I spoke the words. Intellectually, I would have preferred by far to be saying: "Of course I'll come! Nothing could keep me from coming to you. Never doubt it.

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  What was the matter that I hadn't hung my head and trudged away with heavy feet? I realized vividly that my future life would never attain heights of glory sufficient to justify my having escaped death in the army, and hence I could not understand the source of the power which had made me run so rapidly away from the gate of the regiment. Did it mean that I wanted to live after all? And that completely automatic reaction which always made me dash so breathlessly for an air-raid shelter—what was this but a desire to live? Then suddenly my other voice spoke up within me, telling me that never even once had I truly wanted to die. At these words my sense of shame overflowed the dam behind which it had been confined. It was a painful admission to make, but at that moment I knew I had been lying to myself when I said it was for the sake of death that I wanted to enter the army. At that moment I realized I had been secretly hoping that the army would provide me at last with an opportunity for gratifying those strange sensual desires of mine. And I knew that, far from desiring death, the only thing that had made it at all possible for me to look forward to army life was the firm conviction—arising out of a belief in the primitive art of magic, common to all men —that I alone could never die. . . . But how disagreeable these thoughts were for me! I much preferred to think of myself instead as a person who had been forsaken even by Death. In the same way that a doctor, performing surgery upon some internal organ, delicately focuses all his faculties upon the operation and still remains impersonal, I delighted in picturing the curious agonies of a person who wanted to die but had been refused by Death. The degree of mental pleasure I thus obtained seemed almost immoral. The university and the airplane factory had had a difference of opinion, and we had all been withdrawn from the factory at the end of February. The plan was for us to attend lectures again during March and then be mobilized to a different factory in April. But toward the end of February almost a thousand enemy fighter-planes struck, and it became obvious that the lectures scheduled for March would be held in name only. Thus it came about that we were given a month's vacation at the height of the war. It was like being given a gift of damp fireworks. Nevertheless, I would much rather have received the damp fireworks than some sort of stupidly practical gift that would have been more typical of the university, say a box of soda crackers. It was the sheer extravagance of the thing that pleased me so.

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  What was the matter that I hadn't hung my head and trudged away with heavy feet? I realized vividly that my future life would never attain heights of glory sufficient to justify my having escaped death in the army, and hence I could not understand the source of the power which had made me run so rapidly away from the gate of the regiment. Did it mean that I wanted to live after all? And that completely automatic reaction which always made me dash so breathlessly for an air-raid shelter—what was this but a desire to live? Then suddenly my other voice spoke up within me, telling me that never even once had I truly wanted to die. At these words my sense of shame overflowed the dam behind which it had been confined. It was a painful admission to make, but at that moment I knew I had been lying to myself when I said it was for the sake of death that I wanted to enter the army. At that moment I realized I had been secretly hoping that the army would provide me at last with an opportunity for gratifying those strange sensual desires of mine. And I knew that, far from desiring death, the only thing that had made it at all possible for me to look forward to army life was the firm conviction—arising out of a belief in the primitive art of magic, common to all men —that I alone could never die. . . . But how disagreeable these thoughts were for me! I much preferred to think of myself instead as a person who had been forsaken even by Death. In the same way that a doctor, performing surgery upon some internal organ, delicately focuses all his faculties upon the operation and still remains impersonal, I delighted in picturing the curious agonies of a person who wanted to die but had been refused by Death. The degree of mental pleasure I thus obtained seemed almost immoral. The university and the airplane factory had had a difference of opinion, and we had all been withdrawn from the factory at the end of February. The plan was for us to attend lectures again during March and then be mobilized to a different factory in April. But toward the end of February almost a thousand enemy fighter-planes struck, and it became obvious that the lectures scheduled for March would be held in name only. Thus it came about that we were given a month's vacation at the height of the war. It was like being given a gift of damp fireworks. Nevertheless, I would much rather have received the damp fireworks than some sort of stupidly practical gift that would have been more typical of the university, say a box of soda crackers. It was the sheer extravagance of the thing that pleased me so.