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“Father, I can’t believe I committed this sin”

            You should rather say, “I can’t believe I actually did something good.” We all think we’re so holy, but then once in a while reality reminds us how selfish we really are.

            Now, let me warn you, Gentle Reader, the following article will be like a visit to the dentist when your molar hurts. Only if you truly love humility will you be able to endure what you are about to read.

            One of the hardest things to get into our heads is that we are sons and daughters of Adam and Eve; which means we are victims of the consequences of original sin. We are inclined to sin, an inclination called “concupiscence,” which applies to all sins and not just inclinations to sins of the flesh. In fact, we are so strongly thus inclined, that it should more surprise us when we do good rather than when we do evil.

            Often in the confessional I find good souls who are surprised that the fell into a very big sin. Or who are frustrated because they can’t shake off the habit of a nagging venial sin which has afflicted them their entire lives.

            What is at the root of such surprise is pride. We like to imagine that we are so holy, so perfect, so infallible in judgment and just in our will… but then reality strikes, and we are brought face to face with our daily sins, even should they be venial, and with our imperfections.

            This is the pride that is the essence of what we in America, both in politics and in religion, call “liberal.” The Liberal Catholic, also known as the Cafeteria Catholic, the Dissenter, and so forth, never goes to Confession. He even despises the suggestion that he go to monthly confession, as his pride is hurt.

Then pride reacts. Imagine pride as an usurper of one’s soul, like a Grima Wormtongue, or as a demon which longs to rule over a soul otherwise ruled by God. Pride sees itself challenged by humility, and hates it. Pride speaks to the sinful man in the secret of his heart, telling him, “Don’t let anyone tell you you’re a sinner. Those things you did… well, you were just being ‘yourself,’ and you aren’t a bad person. Just confess to God directly, and don’t examine your conscience too closely.” With these and other ruses, pride, and the demons which encourage it, maintain their power over a soul.

The liberal cafeteria Catholic is never wrong, never sins and knows all wisdom. He is always right, he knows better than the Church, his sins either aren’t sins or they’re not that bad. He likes to boil God down to human terms… the “eucharist” is my neighbor… Mass is “the people of God expressing itself”… prayer is “entering into one’s center and one’s feelings”… the spiritual life is not about “virtues” but “dialogue” … and the list of stupidities goes on and on. And if the cafeteria Catholic is a priest, then obedience to liturgical norms is childish, the faithful parishioners are ignorant (“unenlightened”) and despicable and worthy of derision.

And behind all of this is pride.

Even otherwise good, faithful Catholics, as I was saying earlier, feel surprised by their defects and sins, and this too is pride. It is as if they say, “I am better than that… I have made more spiritual progress than that… I should not have fallen that far… I should have overcome that bad habit by now…”

A truly humble soul, however, thinks more along these lines: “I have followed Christ so long, but have been so slow to let him transform me. I still love sin, and am not completely free of sin. After so deep a prayer life, so superficial has been my conversion. I have squandered the piles of grace and mercy which the Trinity has poured upon me.” The thing which might amaze you, Gentle Reader, is this: such assertions are true of all of us, except of the Blessed Virgin, of course. It’s just very, very hard to admit.

Of all the problems which assail the Church, they all boil down to three: pride, sensuality and greed, the Unholy Trinity original sin has left in our souls, a blasphemous mockery of God which knows only disordered self-love even unto the contempt of God. It is both self-embarrassing and painful to uncover.

No one likes to read about how proud he is. So if you got to the end of this article, it may be a sign that you love humility enough to admit your disordered self-love, both the obvious sort and the secret sort. Your next task is to take these thoughts to prayer, and sniff out all those hiding places pride has taken in your soul, and then fumigate with a good dose of humility.

Humble people are always so joyful, because they are continually surprised by the good which they manage to do in collaboration with God’s grace.

May you be pleasantly surprised, therefore, every day of your life.