PIETY AND PIETISM
[continued from yesterday]
...There is yet another possibility, which may mean a fault on our side. After all, a good man among us is usually to us a constant admonition. We are holding a certain conversation; our "pious" friend comes in and instinctively we have to stop; he is a nuisance to us - but why?
We are having a jolly time, reckless of consequences, perhaps a little reckless of duty; our "pious" friend is seen on the offing; we shirk his company--but why?
We are arguing ourselves into a course of action that our conscience all the time disavows; we consult our "pious" friend, and instead of seeing as we see he takes the side of conscience; such a friend is a wet blanket, a croaking pessimist, a soured misanthrope, an unsympathetic creature who will see no point of view but his own; but why this torrent of abuse? Is the fault his or ours?
These then are some of the lines along which, when we condemn, we may not be wholly without blame. We may be opposed to good just because it is good; and since this is against human nature, human nature invents another good which it sets itself up to defend. No saint was ever yet oppressed, but it was shown that he was the enemy of good; no martyr was ever put to death but for apparently the best of causes; and among ourselves no good man is ever hardly judged but the soundest reasons can be given.
Nevertheless it may very well be that the saint, and the martyr, and even the good man have right on their side after all.
But even when all this is said, even when we have acknowledged our own possible mistakes and delinquencies, it still remains true that in very many cases, and without any reason like those above mentioned, the "pious" man is a horrid nuisance.
Before his retreat he was natural, now he is as stiff, and artificial, and unbending, as only a retreat can make him. Before he was considerate and forgiving, now he is critical and exacting, as though he had no faults of his own. Before he kept what piety he possessed to himself; now he must for ever be improving the occasion, even such as need not be improved. Worst of all, for it is the very worst, before he did not matter much either way; now his very presence makes us bristle, his very silence makes us noisy, even in our prayers, in church or chapel, the mere consciousness that he is beside us banishes what spiritual feelings we may have cherished....
[continued tomorrow]
___________
From The School of Love and Other Essays
by The Most Reverend Alban Goodier, S.J.
Burns, Oates, & Washburn, Ltd. 1918
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