“No sight so sad as that of a naughty child,” he began, “especially a naughty little girl. Do you know where the wicked go after death?” “They go to hell,” was my ready and orthodox answer.
“And what is hell? Can you tell me that?” “A pit full of fire.” “And should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?” “No, sir.” “What must you do to avoid it?” I deliberated a moment: my answer, when it did come was objectionable: “I must keep in good health and not die.” — Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre
Jerry has a post up about holiness and about a mistake he believes he made today. I’m not sure what to make of it except that I’m glad he’s thinking about what it’s going to take for him to attain holiness. That is something we all should be doing. The thing is that we are all different. I am not a gregarious person, and that is why I have trouble understanding Jerry, who is a gregarious person.
Gregarious - adjective
1. fond of the company of others; sociable.
2. living in flocks or herds, as animals.
3. Botany . growing in open clusters or colonies; not matted together.
4. pertaining to a flock or crowd.
I’m one of those people who dislikes the hand-holding during the Our Father at Mass. My social life, and the way I see the world, is similar to the way St. Gemma interpreted things.
Without thinking evil of anyone she normally feared all company, and desired to remain alone, and if it had not been necessary to go out to church and sometimes to the city on errands, she would never have left the house. The same may be said of talking, mixing in the affairs of others, making friends, writing letters and suchlike. She used to say: “Gemma, don’t trust yourself; remember that every occasion may be dangerous to you; outside Jesus all is deceit; keep with Him alone and go on with your duties without attending to anything else.”
Because I am like that, I am glad to see that there is a saint who was like that, too. It helps to show me that I’m not in sin for being this way.
I remain extremely disappointed with the conservative blogosphere. Here it had the opportunity to offer not snark, but sharp rebuke tempered by the knowledge that we, too, are but sinners saved by grace. Instead, we rose in self-righteous indignation, took our best cheap shots and then whooped it up over our “victory.” Victory? Really? Acting without grace and/or love is victory?
I do think there is way too much noise out there lately for me to handle, and if I immersed myself in that, instead of remaining quiet in Jesus, I would end up in the crisis unit. That is why I ignore a lot of it, but also because I see the world the way St. Gemma does – a mess that would make me messy along with it if I immersed myself in it. I love Jesus too much to go out and get my soul dirty on the playground of this culture, and you’d better believe I’d be leading others to roll in the dirt with me if I were to go out onto the playground. It’s best for me that I stay on the porch, both because I like it better that way and because everyone else is better off that way, too.
I hope that made some kind of sense. It’s late-thirty here.
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