At the end of the Second Letter of Peter (which we hear from this Sunday) we have these words: “Therefore, beloved, since you await these things, be eager to be found without spot or blemish before him, at peace.”  “Peace” – it is at the deepest yearning of the human heart and whether one has a purely secular approach to the holidays or a religious one; the yearning for peace in our world and even in our own lives seems to unite all.  One of the titles of Christ which we proclaim throughout this Advent and Christmas season is “Prince of Peace.”

Worthy of note is the fact that this call to peace found within the Second Letter of Peter is placed within the upheaval of the end of creation, “…the heavens will pass away with a mighty roar and the elements will be destroyed by fire … Therefore, beloved … be … at peace.”  This sounds like the most extreme of contradictions.  How can one be at peace when all is going up in smoke?  In fact though there is a subtle lesson to be found here.  Even within the upheaval at the end time and therefore within the upheavals of the present moment of our world and of our lives it is possible to find peace and to remain within peace.

How?

We are given these words, “…since you await these things, be eager to be found without spot or blemish before him …”  In his Exposition on Psalm 85, St. Augustine offers some thoughts on the common Advent refrain: “Truth has sprung up from the earth, and righteousness has looked down from heaven.”  Augustine reflects that in sin we are the “earth.”  The wages of sin is death and he points us back to the passage from Genesis: “Earth you are, and back to earth you shall go.” (Gen. 3:19)  How might truth spring from the earth?

“Confess your sins, and truth will spring up from you.  If you claim to be just when you are unjust, how can truth spring up from you?  But if when you are unjust you admit to being unjust, ‘truth has sprung up from the earth.’”  At this the righteousness of God will look down from heaven and say, “Let us pardon this person, because he has not pardoned himself; let us overlook his sin because he has looked honestly at it himself.  He has turned back to punish his own sin, so I will turn to him to set him free from it.”

It is not coincidence that at the beginning of the Eucharistic liturgy we have the Penitential Rite nor that the Church continually invites us to the great gift which is the sacrament of reconciliation.  The words of the first option of the Penitential Rite found in the new Roman Missal are quite striking:

“I confess to almighty God and to you, my brothers and sisters, that I have greatly sinned, in my thoughts and in my words, in what I have done and in what I have failed to do, through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault; therefore I ask blessed Mary ever-Virgin, all the Angels and Saints, and you, my brothers and sisters, to pray for me to the Lord our God.”

We say these words not because we hate ourselves and deem ourselves incapable of being loved.  In fact we know that the exact opposite is the case – we have been loved infinitely.  We say these words and we go to the sacrament of reconciliation in order that truth might spring from the earth and righteousness look down from heaven. 

Even within the upheavals of life peace is possible. 

“Therefore, beloved, since you await these things be eager to be found without spot or blemish before him, at peace.” 

“Be watchful!  Be alert!  You do not know when the time will come … Watch!”  These are the words of our Lord to his disciples in this Sunday’s gospel reading (Mk. 13:33-37).  As disciples of Christ today these words must also resonate in our hearts and we must take the time to worthily reflect upon them. 

Now that we have survived Black Friday and are officially into the commercial season of Christmas, our faith invites us with the blessing and lighting of the Advent wreath to enter also into a faith-filled preparation for the celebration of our Lord’s birth. 

Watch!  Let our hearts be prepared to receive the Christ and to know the wondrous things God has done for us! 

A good question to ask is how might we “watch”, how do we develop the ability to see with the eyes of faith?  It is a fair question.  After all, the commercial season of Christmas is quite efficient at initiating people, even at an extremely young age, into its understanding of the season.  So, it is possible to do. 

I would like to suggest that the introduction of the new Roman Missal gives us, as Church, a unique opportunity this Advent season.  The liturgy is the heart of who we are as Church – it is both our source and our summit.  In the Mass we encounter Christ uniquely – we hear him speak, we watch his actions, we receive his very body and blood.  In the grace of the sacrament Christ cures our blindness and opens our eyes and we learn to see with the eyes of faith. 

There are two different responses that the community is asked to make in the new translation that I would like to reflect upon as opportunities of learning how to watch.  These are the responses of “And with your spirit.” and the response at the invitation to communion: “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”

The response, “And with your spirit.” runs throughout the liturgy.  Wherever the celebrant says, “The Lord be with you.” the response now given is “And with your spirit.”  It is a closer translation to the original Latin.  But more than being just an exercise in literalism I would like to propose that this “And with your spirit.” translation is quite revolutionary and is indeed counter-cultural.  In many ways these four words distinguish the faith-filled preparation for Christmas from the commercial preparation. 

The response reminds us and gives testimony to the truth that there is a spiritual reality to life and, in fact, all of creation.  We live in a time of the dictatorship of materialism; the pervasive thought that only that which can be measured, weighed and quantified scientifically is real.  There is no spirit, there is no soul and, if carried to its logical conclusion, there is no God.  There is no hope.  The dictatorship of materialism seeks to lock one into a reduced, limited and limiting view of reality that as it greatly extols “freedom of thought” and human dignity in truth is a denial of both.  It is pervasive and its affects are varied: from the need to acquire more “stuff” to the defining of the human person and relationships only in terms of commerce (i.e. “What can this person do for me?”) and the reduction of time as a moment of possibility and encounter to a moment to be measured only in terms of production.  Ultimately it leads only to a place where the human person is reduced and hope is lacking.

With the response, “And with your spirit.” the Church gives witness to a different view of reality.  Life is more than just “stuff”, there is a dignity to the human person and a unique possibility to relationship, time is a gift that is meant to be valued and a gift open to the infinite.  There is a sacramental quality to all reality that cannot ultimately be denied.  With the lighting of the Advent candles the Church is not naive to the darkness of the present times but watches, recognizes and places its hope in the dawning of the coming Daystar who is Christ and very Kingdom of God.  Before this light the darkness of the world and the darkness of the heart flees. 

At the invitation to communion when the consecrated Body and Blood of Christ is held up and the priest says, “Behold the Lamb of God, behold him who takes away the sins of the world.  Blessed are those called to the supper of the Lamb.”  The people now respond, “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed.”

This more accurate response gives witness to how the Eucharistic liturgy is grounded in Sacred Scripture.  In the eighth chapter of Matthew a centurion comes to Jesus seeking healing for his ill servant.  Our Lord responds to the centurion’s request by saying that he will come with him in order to cure the servant.  To this the centurion responds, “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof: but only speak the word, and my servant will be healed.”  The gospel then goes on to say that Jesus is “amazed” at the man’s faith.

At the invitation to communion we also are asked to make a sign of deep faith.  “Yes, I believe.  This is the very body and blood of my savior that I am about to receive.  Say the word and my soul shall be healed.”

I would like to also hold “Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof…” in relation to this Sunday’s first reading from the prophet Isaiah (Is. 63:16b-17, 19b, 64:2-7).  In the reading we hear the plea and the yearning of the people of Israel for the justice of God (a plea and yearning we know in our world today): “Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, with the mountains quaking before you, while you wrought awesome deeds we could not hope for, such as they had not heard of from of old.  No ear has ever heard, no eye ever seen, any God but you doing such deeds for those who wait for him.”

“Rend the heavens … the mountains quaking before you … you wrought awesome deeds …”  “Lord, I am not worthy to have you come under my roof…”

Truly, none of us are worthy yet this is what God has done for us in Christ.  We need both the humble awareness and the great faith of the centurion.  The Eucharist is the most frightening of gifts.  In it the very One who rends the heavens comes to dwell under the tiniest roof of our existence. 

“Watch!”, says the Lord. 

In the liturgy the Church watches and yearns for the return of the bridegroom and we learn to see with eyes enlightened by faith.  

This coming Sunday (First Sunday of Advent, 2011) Catholic churches in the English speaking world will begin use of the third English translation of the Roman Missal.  There has been quite a bit of commentary either favoring the new translation or criticizing it.  The intent of the new edition is to draw closer to the original Latin; which for the Catholic Church and its two thousand year liturgical tradition is no small matter.  “Lex orandi; lex credendi” – the law of prayer establishes the law of belief. 

For our purpose here I would like to point to one change in the liturgy.  At the very beginning of the Mass and running throughout the liturgy the priest celebrant addresses the community gathered with, “The Lord be with you.”  In the second translation of the Missal the community response was, “And also with you.”  Now, in the third translation (being faithful to the original Latin) the response of the community is: “And with your spirit.” 

This shift to “with your spirit” highlights, I believe, a deeper and needed awareness of human anthropology. In an age of materialism that relentlessly seeks in pervasive ways (some subtle, some not) to define, and I would add restrict, an awareness of reality to only that which can be measured and weighed, the response “And with your spirit.” strikes a rather revolutionary and counter-cultural tone.

From the very beginnings of our worship this response on the part of the believing church state that we have a certain perspective on reality and that we do not buy into assumptions founded in the dictatorship of materialist thought.  There is a spiritual dimension to life and all reality.  “And with your spirit.” is a liturgical profession of the Church in its belief in this spiritual dimension to reality and the human condition.

The Church’s understanding of the “theological” virtues (faith, hope and love) is likewise a profession of this awareness of the spiritual dimension of the human condition.  Where the four cardinal virtues (prudence, justice, fortitude and temperance) can be acquired and developed by human effort and will – although open to being elevated by divine grace (CCC # 1810); the theological virtues “relate directly to God.” (CCC # 1813)  Just as “And with your spirit.” professes a belief in the spiritual dimension so does the designation of faith, hope and love as “theological” virtues profess an awareness of both the possibility and need of a lived relationship with God (who is spirit) necessary for a truly authentic and fulfilled life. 

(The theological virtues) dispose Christians to live in a relationship with the Holy Trinity.  They have the One and Triune God for their origin, motive and object.  The theological virtues are the foundation of Christian moral activity; they animate it and give it its special character.  They inform and give life to all the moral virtues.  They are infused by God into the souls of the faithful to make them capable of acting as his children and of meriting eternal life.  They are the pledge of the presence and action of the Holy Spirit in the faculties of the human being.  (CCC # 1812-1813) 

In the Christian understanding of these virtues as theological not only do we find that these virtues perfect and fulfill our individual lives and our interactions one with another and undergird the living of human community but these virtues dispose us to live in relationship with the Holy Trinity. 

In forthcoming blog posts I will delve more deeply into each of the theological virtues.  I would like to conclude this post with one thought for consideration.  In the western world we are living in a time that is witnessing a growth in atheistic and agnostic thought.  The reasons for this are many and varied I believe and space here will not allow for an adequate exploration of these reasons.  Non-belief is now a valid option for many people.  Some voices of non-belief are extremely anti-religion (I would even say “fundamentalistic” in their approach and thought) but not all are.  The virtues in life and in society provide a place of encounter where cooler heads can meet and dialogue.  We need to learn how to live together for the common good.  Talking, if guided by honesty and respect, does not necessarily mean the selling out of ones core values.  In the virtues we find a privileged place of encounter that can provide great benefit for all of society.   

In the beginning of her book An American Childhood Annie Dillard tells the story of watching a neighbor girl skate on the city street on a cold, Pittsburg winter night:

The night Jo Ann Sheehy skated on the street it was dark inside our house.  We were having dinner in the dining room – my mother, my father, my sister Amy, who was two and I.  There were lighted ivory candles on the table … Now we sat in the dark dining room, hushed…  Behind me, tall chilled windows gave out onto our narrow front yard and street.  A motion must have caught my mother’s eye; she rose and moved to the windows, and Father and I followed.  There we saw the young girl, the transfigured Jo Ann Sheehy skating alone under the streetlight. 

She was turning on ice skates inside the streetlight’s yellow cone of light – illumined and silent.  She tilted and spun.  She wore a short skirt, as if Edgerton Avenue’s asphalt had been the ice of an Olympic arena.  She wore mittens and a red knitted cap below which her black hair lifted when she turned.  Under her skates the street’s packed snow shone; it illumined her from below, the cold light striking her under her chin.  

I stood at the tall window, barely reaching the sill; the glass fogged before my face, so I had to keep moving or hold my breath.  What was she doing out there?  Was everything beautiful so bold? 

Nelson Mandela once said: It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.  We ask ourselves, “Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented?”  Actually, who are you not to be.  Playing small does not serve the will of God.  We are born to make manifest the glory of God within us.  It is not just within some of us, it is within everyone.  The more we light our own light shine; the more we unconsciously give other people the permission to do the same.

In today’s Gospel (Mt. 25:14:30) we are given the parable of the talents.  The term “talent” in our Lord’s day was used to denote a certain measurement of wealth.  It is due to this very parable that the word “talent” has the meaning which we know today.  In the parable, the master who is departing on a journey leaves a different sum of talents with three different servants.  The first two servants double what was given them and are rewarded accordingly.  The third servant (out of fear) buries the talent he is given and makes nothing.  He is punished for his laziness. 

So, we see this parable as an instruction about using the gifts, the talents that we have been given in life and not being fearful.  It is also helpful to note where this parable falls within Matthew’s gospel.  It is in the section where Jesus is discussing the end times and it comes right before the section where Jesus sets the criteria for judgment of our lives.  (The Gospel passage we will hear next Sunday.)

With the awareness of this context we see that the use of talents is not toward the goal of comfort in this life but toward the goal of the reign of God.  This parable warns us that the servant preferred to hide his life in a hole, in an avaricious and egoistic tranquility … Jesus unveils the ambiguity of one who contents himself with how things are, has no desire to change, no aspiration to transform life and, no ambition for a happier life for all. (Bishop Vincenzo Paglia)

The Kingdom of God begins with each one of us when we make the choice to not close ourselves off in our own self interest but make the bold choice for life and to help alleviate the sufferings of the other person.  It is a choice that must begin within – the choice to begin changing our own hearts and the choice to bring the Gospel to our world and live the Gospel for our world.

“Does beauty have to be so bold?” wondered the young Annie Dillard.  Yes, it does.  We are each born to make manifest the glory of God within us.   

This Sunday I would like to reflect on two images found in the readings: 1. the figure of Wisdom from the first reading (Wisdom 6:12-16) and 2. the wise and foolish virgins from the gospel (Mt. 25:1-13).

Specifically from the first reading there is this passage: “because (Wisdom) makes her own rounds, seeking those worthy of her, and graciously appears to them in their ways, and meets them with all solicitude.”  Often, and especially in the modern university setting, we approach knowledge and truth as something “out there” – to be attained, but primarilly passive.  The facts are there to be arrived at.  The truth can be known but we, on our part, have to go and get it.  It is similar to going grocery shopping.  The other day I realized that I was out of laundry detergent but I knew that there was laundry detergent “out there”.  Kroger has it.  I went to the store, I found the right aisle (if it was a store I was unfamiliar with I might need to ask for guidance) and there was the detergent sitting passive on the shelf. 

We often view truth in our modern understanding the same way but the biblical notion which we find expressed in the reading from the Book of Wisdom turns this assumption on its head.  Yes, there is truth and knowledge “out there” to be acquired in life but also Wisdom “makes her own rounds, seeking those worthy of her…”  God’s wisdom is not passive, sitting on a shelf and waiting.  Wisdom is active of its own accord.  To force the above analogy, it is like the laundry jumping off the shelf, walking down the road and knocking on your front door.  Wisdom seeks out.  Wisdom graciously appears to us in our ways and meets us with all solicitude.

This understanding of the active nature of Wisdom casts a light on the parable of the wise and foolish virgins.  It is worthy to note that both the wise and foolish virgins fall asleep while waiting for the bridegroom.  This is not where the distinction between the two lies.  For all people, “it is easy to rest on our old habits and certainties, it is easy to be overcome by the sweet slumber of self-love, it is easy to be overwhelmed by the weight of our own selfishness.”  All are asleep.

But then the cry comes announcing the groom’s arrival!  What is this cry?  “It is the cry that arises from the far country of the poor, it is the cry that comes from the peoples at war; it is the cry of the lonely elders that ask for company,” it is the cry of the one who is hurting and alone.  “Upon hearing the cry, we jump awake, but if we do not have the extra oil on hand we find all the excuses for not responding.”

It is the “extra oil” that distinguishes the wise from the foolish virgins.  The extra oil is the Word of God as it has come to us and been received and treasured in our hearts and lives.  “It reawakens us to love.  If we do not have the Gospel in our heart then we will not know how to respond to the cry of the poor or how to live a meaningful life.”

Our world stands in need of lives enlightened by Wisdom and by the Word of God – which are active and which seek out hearts that are open and receptive.

Yes, there is wisdom out there to be acquired but sometimes wisdom comes knocking at our own door.
(Quotes referenced are taken from a reflection by Bishop Vincenzo Paglia) 

 “The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it.” (Flannery O’Connor)

Taken from the Office of Readings for the Feast of all Souls:

St Ambrose, a book on the death of his brother Satyrus



We see that death is gain, life is loss. Paul says: For me life is Christ, and death a gain. What does “Christ” mean but to die in the body, and receive the breath of life? Let us then die with Christ, to live with Christ. We should have a daily familiarity with death, a daily desire for death. By this kind of detachment our soul must learn to free itself from the desires of the body. It must soar above earthly lusts to a place where they cannot come near, to hold it fast. It must take on the likeness of death, to avoid the punishment of death. The law of our fallen nature is at war with the law of our reason and subjects the law of reason to the law of error. What is the remedy? Who will set me free from this body of death? The grace of God, through Jesus Christ, our Lord.


We have a doctor to heal us; let us use the remedy he prescribes. The remedy is the grace of Christ, the dead body our own. Let us then be exiles from our body, so as not to be exiles from Christ. Though we are still in the body, let us not give ourselves to the things of the body. We must not reject the natural rights of the body, but we must desire before all else the gifts of grace.


What more need be said? It was by the death of one man that the world was redeemed. Christ did not need to die if he did not want to, but he did not look on death as something to be despised, something to be avoided, and he could have found no better means to save us than by dying. Thus his death is life for all. We are sealed with the sign of his death; when we pray we preach his death; when we offer sacrifice we proclaim his death. His death is victory; his death is a sacred sign; each year his death is celebrated with solemnity by the whole world.


What more should we say about his death since we use this divine example to prove that it was death alone that won freedom from death, and death itself was its own redeemer? Death is then no cause for mourning, for it is the cause of mankind’s salvation. Death is not something to be avoided, for the Son of God did not think it beneath his dignity, nor did he seek to escape it.


Death was not part of nature; it became part of nature. God did not decree death from the beginning; he prescribed it as a remedy. Human life was condemned because of sin to unremitting labour and unbearable sorrow and so began to experience the burden of wretchedness. There had to be a limit to its evils; death had to restore what life had forfeited. Without the assistance of grace, immortality is more of a burden than a blessing.


The soul has to turn away from the aimless paths of this life, from the defilement of an earthly body; it must reach out to those assemblies in heaven (though it is given only to the saints to be admitted to them) to sing the praises of God. We learn from Scripture how God’s praise is sung to the music of the harp: Great and wonderful are your deeds, Lord God Almighty; just and true are your ways, King of the nations. Who will not revere and glorify your nature? You alone are holy; all nations will come and worship before you. The soul must also desire to witness your nuptials, Jesus, and to see your bride escorted from earthly to heavenly realities, as all rejoice and sing: All flesh will come before you. No longer will the bride be held in subjection to this passing world but will be made one with the spirit.


Above all else, holy David prayed that he might see and gaze on this: One thing I have asked of the Lord, this I shall pray for: to dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, and to see how gracious is the Lord.

The mustard seed

There is a TV commercial out currently for one of these small, fuel efficient cars that is quite good.  The commercial begins with an executive in a board room saying “Big”.  Then all those around the table begin to repeat “Big, Big, Big.”  The next scene is a news anchor reporting, “Big, Big.”  Then we are in Hollywood and on the stage is a singer belting out: “Big, Big, Bi-i-i-g!”  All the wheels of the machine are turning in unison proclaiming “BIG”!  Then the scene shifts to an office worker making copies at a machine and as he looks out the window this small car drives by and he says, “small”.  Things stop.  And a new chorus begins, “small, small, small.”

This dynamic can be found in today’s gospel reading (Mt. 23:1-12).  The wheels of the machine in the Israel of Jesus’ day are turning.  The chorus may not be saying “Big” per se but it is certainly humming “widen the phylacteries”, “lengthen the tassels”, “seats of honor”, “greetings”, “rabbi”.  The noise is almost deafening (and crushing).  Jesus hears it.  And Jesus says, “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” 

The import of what our Lord does here is brought out when we look at what follows today’s gospel passage.  In the remaining verses of chapter 23 Jesus list a whole series of “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites!”  In chapter 24, Jesus talks about the end of days.  Then in chapter 25 our Lord gives images of the Kingdom of Heaven and the final judgment.   And in the third and fourth verses of chapter 26 we read; “Then the chief priests and the elders of the people gathered in the palace of the high priest, who was called Caiaphas, and took counsel together in order to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him.”

The words are indeed radical and revolutionary.  “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” 

But we like “Big”; how might we come to recognize the beauty and the wisdom of “small”, of “humble”?

In his second volume of Jesus of Nazareth, Pope Benedict XVI makes a striking observation.  As Christians we proclaim and we know the magnitude of the resurrection of Christ.  We know that it is the defining point of all human history but the Holy Father writes this about the resurrection:

“Throughout the history of the living, the origins of anything new have always been small, practically invisible, and easily overlooked.  The Lord himself has told us that ‘heaven’ in this world is like a mustard seed, the smallest of all the seeds (Mt. 13:31-32), yet contained within it are the infinite potentialities of God.  In terms of world history, Jesus’ Resurrection is improbable; it is the smallest mustard seed of history.”

Big, Big, Big … small.

In Church circles today there is much talk about the “new evangelization”.  A vision given to the Church in this new millennium by Blessed John Paul II.  There are many grand visions of how this evangelization might look and take shape (and these might very well come to pass).  But maybe the first part of this “new evangelization” at the threshold of this new millennium is to both recognize the mustard seeds, the improbable moments, of the Resurrection that are occurring around us and also help to plant and encourage these mustard seeds.  As Pope Benedict reminds us, “the origins of anything new have always been small, practically invisible, and easily overlooked.”   

And, individually, in our lives the way to cultivate the truth and the grace of the Resurrection is to cultivate the improbable mustard seed of humility.  To be willing in the face of “Big” to say “small” and to live the wisdom of humility.   

“Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

In the Hebraic thought in which the writings of Old Testament were written the heart was viewed as the center of knowledge and willing and not as the center of romantic love as we tend to envisage it today. This distinction can help us in realizing the true import of the scriptural motif of “creating a new heart” as found, for example, in this passage taken from the Book of the prophet Jeremiah:

“See, days are coming—oracle of the Lord—when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant I made with their ancestors the day I took them by the hand to lead them out of the land of Egypt. They broke my covenant, though I was their master—oracle of the Lord. But this is the covenant I will make with the house of Israel after those days—oracle of the Lord. I will place my law within them, and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people. They will no longer teach their friends and relatives, “Know the Lord!” Everyone, from least to greatest, shall know me—oracle of the Lord—for I will forgive their iniquity and no longer remember their sin.” (Jeremiah 31: 31-34)

To have a heart transformed by the Lord is to have the center of our willing and our knowledge (i.e. our choices and our actions) transformed by an awareness of the presence of God. If the conversion of our hearts is true then how we act and how we live in the world and with one another must be affected and purified. 

Temperance is a virtue not readily understood nor applauded in our day and time. Over and over again we hear the message of: “live life to the full!”, “Do what you want.” and if something is to have any true worth and merit then it must be “extreme”. Where does temperance fit it with this? Temperance, it seems to me, neither automatically condemns nor condones the possibilities that life puts before us.

Temperance is the moral virtue that moderates the attraction of pleasures and provides balance in the use of created goods. It ensures the will’s mastery over instincts and keeps desires within the limits of what is honorable. The temperate person directs the sensitive appetites toward what is good and maintains a healthy discretion: “Do not follow your inclination and strength, walking according to the desires of your heart.” (Sir. 5:2) Temperance is often praised in the Old Testament: “Do not follow your base desires, but restrain your appetites.”(Sir. 18:30) In the New Testament it is called “moderation” or “sobriety.” We ought “to live sober, upright, and godly lives in this world.” (Titus 2:12) (CCC #1809) 

Temperance is not opposed to desire but it does say that we are more than our desires and this is a recognition that seems to be sorely lacking in our current social climate. Despite all its protestations to the contrary; a “desire only” approach to life denies the true dignity and capability of the individual. We are more than our desires whether they happen to be desires of attraction or desires of repulsion. 

Here, I would like to suggest a historical figure for consideration whom, I believe, stands as a model for temperance (but maybe not in the way we would think). Before his conversion the young St. Francis was a well kept and in many ways self-absorbed young man, the son of a rich merchant. It is said that Francis had a strong aversion to lepers. He was repulsed by them and this “desire” controlled his reactions and encounters with lepers. He would do all he could to avoid encountering any leper at any time. After some sobering experiences in life and as the possibility of a life of service to the gospel began to grow in Francis he realized that the desires of his life were holding him back. He knew he had to gain mastery over his self in order to continue on the spiritual journey but he was at a loss on how to do this. Out riding one day, Francis met a leper on the road whose soars were so loathsome that the young man was horrified. Every “desire” in Francis at that moment was of revulsion and told him to avoid the leper at all costs. But, Francis did the exact opposite. He dismounted from his horse and he kissed the leper.

Temperance “ensures the will’s mastery over instincts and keeps desires within the limits of what is honorable.” (CCC # 1809)

Whether they be desires of attraction or desires of repulsion; the virtue of temperance enables us to live lives that show deep respect for the other person and to strive for what is honorable and good. When so much in his being was telling Francis to run he showed great respect to the leper and chose to act in such a way as to keep his desire (of repulsion in this instance) within the limit of what was honorable. To have avoided the leper would have been the dishonorable thing to do. 

The virtue of temperance not only enables us to strive for what is honorable but says we are capable of achieving what is honorable and just and good in the situations of life.

The virtues will not allow us to sell neither ourselves nor one another short.

The temperate person directs the sensitive appetites toward what is good and maintains a healthy discretion: “Do not follow your inclination and strength, walking according to the desires of your heart.” (Sir. 5:2) (CCC #1809)