Chapter 6 – Contrition of the Spirit, pp. 145 – 150

Many blessings to you, my friends, who read and pray with me. We embark on most interesting chapter on contrition that has some unexpected twists and turns.

Indeed, an unexpected twist and turn delayed my completing this post – but I return to you a more contrite person and therefore perhaps more prepared to write on the topic. God allowed me to be waylaid and humbled. Seldom pleasant but a valuable experience nonetheless.

Fr. Matta starts us off on this journey into contrition by noting that the “intensity of the saints’ humility, their contrition, and their incessant self-reproach was only a realization of their nothingness before God’s glory”. At the same time, he warns us that we cannot simply copy this in order to become like them. To know who we really are in relation to God, “we have to advance properly in the life of grace”.  The saints, he tells us, did not pursue humility because it was an attractive virtue and neither can we. Rather, we must feel convinced in the depths of our hearts “that we have provoked God to anger”, that we could have grown closer to God but freely chose the “lust of this world” instead.

  1. We are returned to awareness of our “nothingness” before God – that which we were told in an earlier chapter would ultimately free our souls. The saints, having realized this, experienced true humility and contrition because they saw who they were before God. What experiences have I had of so seeing myself? Is it joyful humility – like the self-emptying of a lover? Or is it more painful humiliation that cries out in utter helplessness? Perhaps both – or neither?
  2. Fr. Matta tells us that we must be deeply convinced that we have provoked God’s anger to know contrition. How do you find yourself reacting to the notion of God as being “angry” with you? How would it change if you used a different word – such as “disappointment” or “sadness”? Do you think Fr. Matta is referring to the human emotion we call anger or something else? (What else might it be if something else?)

Fr. Matta offers some examples of thoughts or facts that “should shame us all”, e.g. that God is compassionate toward us and loves us no less despite our persistent sinning. However, perhaps more importantly, he instructs us that, “Contrition cannot be grasped in a day or be taught from a book. It is life that flows between the soul and God.” His teaching hints at his own experience on this path, reassuring us that, as difficult as this road appears, once cleansed of our pride, “the life of contrition becomes a poignant, sweet melody that makes shorter the soul’s long journey to God…A contrite soul is full of peace…Any perversion toward pride or vainglory makes it shudder as a musician shudders at a discordant note in a beautiful symphony.”

  1. This talk of contrition involving shame (a most unpleasant experience) but also melodies and symphonies may leave us feeling confused. Or at least it left me wanting to take a few steps back to ask myself: what is contrition, really? Let’s pause for a moment and reflect on this…
  2. Our secular dictionary defines contrition as “a state of being remorseful” – and I think this is what many of us associate with the word. As a child being prepared for confession in the Catholic Church, I was taught the Act of Contrition, a prayer in which I told God I was sorry for having offended Him with my sins. There is nothing wrong with this; but Fr. Matta’s words suggest that he is telling us of something broader, deeper, than remorse for specific sins – and that is why we cannot learn it in a day.
  3. If you are at all like me, sometimes you may not feel contrite. At some moments, we may minimize the degree to which we have separated ourselves from God, e.g. “I’m not really so bad”, etc. At other times, we may pay lip service to the reality but be unable to conjure up much feeling about it. And there may be other times when we become lost in a toxic shame that is not true contrition, as it is born more out of self-hatred than love for God. Let us find comfort in knowing that the desire to be made right with God, even if experienced only faintly, will be developed into true contrition if we pray for that grace.

It is interesting that Fr. Matta refers to the “biblical idea” of contrition using the word “crushing”, clarifying that contrition does not mean to break down or damage the soul created in God’s image. I have virtually no knowledge of ancient languages and was fascinated to learn that “contrition” comes from the Latin contritus (“ground to pieces”). If there is any destruction, he writes, it is “aimed against the parts of the self that are false and conceited. In this way, the soul can return to its authentic and simple bounds.” Destroying this false self enables a rebuilding of authentic self in its original image – a very good thing. Fr. Matta tells us of two levels of contrition. One level, referred to as the “negative, voluntary honing of the soul”, is our responsibility as we seek to rid ourselves of the false parts of ourselves found in our character, behaviors, ambitions, etc. The other level, “positive, involuntary honing” is a great gift from God in which He humbles us to our “original littleness and authenticity”. No matter how diligent our efforts, we could never bring ourselves to this humility properly without God’s gift.

  1. As I ponder this, the question arises in me, “How did I become so false?” I am sure there are a great many answers to this question but pursuing them would serve only to distract from the task at hand…

I do not wish to pause too long here because the next few paragraphs are extraordinary. Fr. Matta writes: “Honing one’s soul is a delicate and serious operation that requires faithful discernment. In practicing lowliness, man should learn how to stop at the level that is proper to his soul.” He explains further that one of the dangers of contrition is that we can engage in hypocrisy “under the pretense of humility”, e.g. pretending to be weak when we are not so weak, etc. Hence, we are to confine our spiritual sight (as St. Paul calls it), “with discernment and balance, within the limits of the gifts that Christ has apportioned to us”. We should not deny God’s grace and work in us, ambitiously portraying ourselves to be below the level of gift and faith we have been given. If we do this, our soul will lose contact with God and “faith will then shrink, and grace will withdraw”. It is true and authentic contrition that “leads to true contact with God and to the fullness of grace”. Contrition is “a reality to be lived out”. Fr. Matta acknowledged that his descriptions of it sound dreadful: “Words about it are as bitter as gall, but its taste is sweeter than honey.” 

  1. You might wonder why I described these paragraphs as “extraordinary”. Perhaps as much for the questions they open up as for the answers they give. I do not know how others experienced it, but for many of us receiving Catholic education years ago, much emphasis was put on both humility and false humility (have the former and not the latter). When one is in second grade, these concepts are very hard to understand! Even in adulthood, for those of us blessed with obsessive minds :-), a potential quagmire exists in such quotes as this delightful one by William Law: “You can have no greater sign of confirmed pride than when you think you are humble enough.”
  2. My reading of this segment is that my humility needs to reach all the way down to my nothingness before God – and therefore is limitless on the one hand. On the other hand, I must gratefully acknowledge God’s gifts and work in me and not pretend that His goodness in me is not good. On the other hand (I must have 3 hands here), I need to faithfully work at my humility while never taking pride in it – for I could never do it properly myself. I am to be always ready for God to “hone” me further, directly or through the circumstances of my life, knowing that it may hurt – but the joy of the healing far exceeds the pain.

There are many questions I could ask – but none of them have answers.

May God continue to bless us on our journey to Him. I welcome any comments or questions you might like to post here for our small community of praying readers.

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Chapter 6 – Contrition of the Spirit, pp. 145 – 150

  1. And what about a 4th hand, as in St Paul’s comment, “. . . gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities. . .”. Or is that really what you meant by, ” my humility needs to reach all the way down to my nothingness before God”?

    Maybe three hands are enough after all. At any rate, this is a very complicated topic for me, especially the idea of God being angry, or sad, or even disappointed. But then Jesus got angry, felt sad, and expressed disappointment. And I certainly get down on myself, not to mention feeling angry, sad, or disappointed in my children (occasionally) so why shouldn’t God. The whole thing about sin vs. sinfulness is troubling. I think I understand how freedom can lead to sin and choice confirms it, but the constant leaning towards it (formerly called “temptation” and probably still) — that’s the crux, as it were.

    I’m sticking with the guidance of a wise priest I was sent to, blessedly.

    Good post here. Thank you for your consistent efforts to get us to reflect.

  2. Thanks for your comments, Al. You always get me thinking some more.

    BTW, I’m not trying to “get” you folks out there to reflect. I have a deep need to be doing this work myself. I’m not sure that many are still following the blog but I have decided to continue posting because it keeps me working on the book more deeply than if I were just reading it by myself.

    I posed the question about God’s anger because I too find that (or “disappointment” or “sadness”) rather hard to handle. I think there are a couple of reasons for that. One, of course, is simply shame at my own sinfulness.

    But the other discomfort comes from the reality that “anger” for me has only human associations, that may include feelings of being rejected, no longer loved, perhaps even endangered (emotionally, socially or physically). God’s anger, I believe, is something different – and I would love it if we could use a different word for it so that it wouldn’t dredge up all of the human connotations.

    God’s anger is holy and loving and perfect. That almost sounds like an oxymoron doesn’t it? It sounds that way because no human anger is that way. But I think it is important to understand why we must be able to conceive of God as having some sort of “anger” toward us when we sin.

    I’ve been indulging in a lot of C.S. Lewis lately and I don’t recall in which of his books I read this. However, even in his times, he was encountering people whose conception of God was much like our “New Age” versions. He described how some portray God as a positive field of energy or some such – not a God who is Person or who has any plan for His Creation.

    If we think of God as this purely loving but rather vague and amorphous Being, it could easily translate into Him having no real preference between good and evil. The “anger” of God is, I believe, His intolerance for evil – but an intolerance based on His love for us. He knows the consequences for us if left in our sin. In His love, He wants more for us.

    Probably my favorite image of this (which helps me to “get” it without becoming lost in my neurosis) is Aslan in the Chronicles of Narnia. When one of the children tells a half-truth to avoid, he looks at them and questions – until they know they have to tell what really happened. When they have done something bad, even treacherous, he may growl at them, showing his disapproval – but also may take them off for a long talk alone. And then he bears the penalty of their actions for them.

    His anger is holy and loving and perfect. It refuses to regard my sin as acceptable – but does everything conceivable to rescue me from its consequences. This is not an anger I would ever want to provoke (it makes me want to live for Him), but I gratefully accept the swipe of his paw, so to speak.

  3. Thank you, Mary. Your extended thoughts are helpful. It is nice to be able to talk deeply. I don’t get much of a chance for that in my daily round.

    P.s. I should have realized that you are writing as much, or more, to clarify your own thoughts than to move others to do something or other that they might not be ready for.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s