"It is...Our will that Catholics should abstain from certain appellations which have recently been brought into use to distinguish one group of Catholics from another. They are to be avoided not only as 'profane novelties of words,' out of harmony with both truth and justice, but also because they give rise to great trouble and confusion among Catholics. Such is the nature of Catholicism that it does not admit of more or less, but must be held as a whole or as a whole rejected: 'This is the Catholic faith, which unless a man believe faithfully and firmly; he cannot be saved' (Athanasian Creed). There is no need of adding any qualifying terms to the profession of Catholicism: it is quite enough for each one to proclaim 'Christian is my name and Catholic my surname,' only let him endeavour to be in reality what he calls himself." -- Pope Benedict XV, Ad Beatissimi Apostolorum 24 (1914)

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Narcissism and the Dynamics of Evil



DOUGLAS MCMANAMAN
The first step to appreciating the subtleties of evil is to begin at the most basic level of philosophical inquiry, the philosophy of being.

Evil, as St. Augustine pointed out centuries ago, is not a positive quality or a substance, but a privation or corruption of being. This implies that "good" is a property of being. Whatever is, is good insofar as it is.



When we speak of good food, for example, we mean much more than that it simply tastes good. We mean that is good for us. Such food promotes the fullness of our being. Food that is bad for us brings about a corruption or deficiency of health. Aristotle wrote that the good is that which all things desire.[1] This, despite appearances, is congruent with the notion that the "good" is fullness of being; for all things desire first and foremost their own perfection, that is, all things desire "to be" and "to be" most fully. Good and being are the same thing. Evil is thus a lack of due being. It is a deficiency, a corruption, a privation, a lack of something that should be there.

Consider a deformity of any kind. What is physically deformed lacks something that it ought to have. A bird that has one wing suffers from a physical evil and as a result cannot fly, that is, it cannot function as it belongs to a bird to function.

Moral evil is also a lack, a deficiency, or a privation, but one far more complicated than physical evil. For everyone understands the nature of a bird, and so it is immediately obvious that a one winged bird is deformed. But in order to understand moral evil, it is necessary to understand the basic requirements of the natural moral law, and unless one understands these, moral evil is not always easy to spot.

Moral evil is primarily about a disordered will; for only a being with intellect and will is a moral agent. That is why irrational animals are not treated as moral agents and held responsible for what they do. They literally don't "know any better". A good will, however, is one that "wills the good". This is what love is: willing the good of another (benevolence). But there are a number of goods that are specifically human, intelligible, and basic, that is, sought for their own sake and not for the sake of some other end. Such basic intelligible human goods include human life, the knowledge and contemplation of truth, the experience and contemplation of beauty, leisure, marriage, harmony between oneself and others, oneself and God, and harmony within oneself (integrity). The moral life has to do fundamentally with our relationship to the entire network of these human goods. Basic human goods are aspects of human persons, and so a good will is one that is open to the entire network of human goods in oneself and in others, that is, wherever there is an instance of human being.


Moral evil is primarily about a disordered will; for only a being with intellect and will is a moral agent. That is why irrational animals are not treated as moral agents and held responsible for what they do. They literally don't "know any better".


An evil action is one that involves a will that is incompatible with an openness to the complete integration of basic human goods. Such a will is evil, because it is deficient, or lacking an order that it ought to have. For example, justice is the constant will to render to another his due. An unjust act involves a refusal to render another his due, such as the truth, or property, or reverence of his life, etc. Or, consider the act of treating another as a means to an end. In this case, a basic human good is treated as an instrumental good. The life of the other is subordinated to my own and is reduced to a means to my own ends. In other words, I treat my own life as an end, to be revered for its own sake, but I treat another's life as a means. But what is due to another is that he be treated in a way that respects his status as equal in dignity to myself. I willingly refuse that equality, thus failing to render that debt.

Just as a bird is good insofar as it has being, but suffers from a physical evil insofar as it lacks what ought to be there (i.e., another wing), so too an evil will is good insofar as it has being, but is evil in its deficiency. And since a moral agent is what he wills, we do not say that a person suffers from a moral evil as we might suffer from a physical evil. Rather, a person who commits moral evil is evil. Only moral agents can be evil.

And so evil is parasitic. Its host is always a good. And since evil is a kind of non-being or nothingness, pure evil is impossible. Pure evil would be completely nothing, and nothing is not evil; it simply 'is not'. Evil is a privation that requires a subject in which to inhere. St. Augustine writes:
...there is nothing of what we call evil, if there be nothing good. But a good which is wholly without evil is a perfect good. A good, on the other hand, which contains evil is a faulty or imperfect good; and there can be no evil where there is no good. From all this we arrive at the curious result: that since every being, so far as it is a being, is good, when we say that a faulty being is an evil being, we just seem to say that which is good is evil, and that nothing but what is good can be evil, seeing that every being is good, and that no evil can exist except in a being. Nothing can be evil except something which is good.[2]






The Making of a Narcissist

Human persons engage in a kind of self-making whenever they make choices. The reason is that we are what we will. It was Sartre who said that existence precedes essence, and that we determine our essence by our absolutely free choices.[3] Only if we substitute the word "essence" with "character" is Sartre correct. There is a relationship between choosing (doing) and becoming (being). We are (character) what we choose. Nothing is more intimately our own than our character, which is determined by nothing other than our free and self-determined choices. And since evil is a privation, a kind of non-being or nothingness, the more one makes morally evil choices, the "less" one becomes. In other words,choosing moral evil, such as treating another or others as a means to an end, brings about a shrinkage, a lessening of the self. If perpetuated and unrepented, such de-creation leads to a kind of self-loathing; for there is less of oneself to love – just as the more one severs pieces of one's face with a knife, the more unsightly he becomes and the more horrified he is as he beholds his reflection in a mirror.[4]

Beauty is also a property of being. To be more fully is to be more beautiful. But disease or corruption involves a deprivation of beauty. What is morally noble is beautiful (kalon), but what is morally evil is ignoble and morally unsightly. That is why one who commits to injustice or who gives himself to evil for the sake of ends that are good becomes morally unsightly to himself, as well as to those who see him as he is. He becomes ugly. Hence, the self-loathing that is part and parcel of the depraved.


In other words,choosing moral evil, such as treating another or others as a means to an end, brings about a shrinkage, a lessening of the self.


Another property of moral evil, concomitant to self-loathing, is egotism. Consider that injustice is the freely willed decision not to render to another his due, whether it is truth, property, liberty, impartial treatment, or reverence of his life. The golden rule is a traditional formulation of the requirement of fairness: do unto others what you would have others do unto you, or, do not do to others what you yourself dislike. Injustice is precisely a failure to love another as another self. The unjust man treats himself with a degree of partiality, and he fails to recognize the other's status as a person equal in dignity, to be treated as an end in himself. The unjust man has thereby established a degree of egotism within himself; for he has made himself larger than another, at least in his own eyes and according to his own behaviour. As Vladimir Solovyov writes: "The basic falsehood and evil of egoism lie ... in the fact that, ascribing to himself in all justice an absolute significance, he unjustly refuses to others this same significance. Recognizing himself as a center of life (which as a matter of fact he is), he relegates others to the circumference of his own being and leaves them only an external and relative value."[5]

This egotism can be relatively mild, or it can reach pathological proportions. For there is a fundamental difference between the sinner and the one who sins. Everyone sins, but not everyone is given over to sin, that is, not everyone loves sin. Some have made a commitment to do battle against their own tendency to sin, while others have simply surrendered to a life that places the self at the center. The refusal to behold one's own moral unsightliness–and thus the refusal of repentance and moral growth – brings about a conflict that demands resolution. Such a person is aware of his own moral deficiency and loathes himself accordingly. The degree of his self-loathing corresponds to the degree of his depravity. At the same time, though, he has surrendered to an egotism that is part and parcel of an unjust character. The egotist that he has become cannot tolerate the awareness of his unsightly ignobility. This conflict has to be resolved because he has a radical need for affirmation. Like all beings, he naturally desires to be most fully, and so he desires the fullness of the good – it is just that he will not choose in accordance with what he really desires. The need for affirmation persists nonetheless. And affirmation is the natural and proper response to what is genuinely good. The problem is that he cannot affirm himself – hebeholds his depravity and sees others as far less unsightly, which of course spawns envy – , yet his egotism demands affirmation all the more and to a much greater extent and intensity. The greater his moral depravity, the greater and more unbearable is this fundamental conflict. He either beholds his corruption and repents of the choices that brought it about, or he turns his gaze from it and commits to creating an image, a reflection, a false self that others will be able to affirm.

He cannot allow others to see what he sees in himself, for they will reject him. What they see will be as repulsive to them as it is to himself. So he must create a highly likable and acceptable image that will procure the affirmation he requires for himself, an affirmation that he can only get from others who do not know him as he really is. Thus begins the fundamental lie of the self-loathing egotist. For an image is a reflection. One can only see a reflection if it is mirrored in some way. The egotist must see his reflection through the eyes of others, and so others become a means to his own affirmation, a means to his own conviction that he really exists. For the deeply depraved have created a void, a nothingness in the heart of their character. But a person cannot detect the presence of nothingness. Hence, the egotist desperately needs to be convinced of his own existence. He needs to feel that he is. If he will not achieve this through the pursuit of virtue, he will do so through the affirmation, praise, and adulation of others, or through their fear of him. But what others affirm (or fear) is not the true self of the egotist. He cannot show his true self, for he does not know who or what it is. His true self is fractured, dilapidated, and in pieces. Thus, it is only a reflection that they affirm.


One can only see a reflection if it is mirrored in some way. The egotist must see his reflection through the eyes of others, and so others become a means to his own affirmation, a means to his own conviction that he really exists.


The habit of treating a human person as a means to an end has a kind of universal scope to it. One person is a particular instance of a basic intelligible human good. Just as I come to know the nature of all human persons by coming to understand a particular instance of humanity (for all have the same nature), so too, my ability to treat one individual human being as a means to an end amounts to a willingness to treat all human persons as a means to an end. And so wherever the egotist appears to be treating another as an end in himself, such behaviour is only appearance. At its roots, it is utilitarian and fundamentally a kind of manipulation.

The more intense the conflict between the experience of his nothingness and his emerging egotism, the more radical his manipulation of others. The more intelligent the egotist, the more able he is to hide his depravity by means of a clever reflection, and thus the more able he is to successfully convince others that they are loved and revered for their own sake. The longer he persists in his depravity, the more deeply he falls into the void that is decreated by the choices he continues to make.

From a purely moral point of view, this is how the narcissistic character disordered are created.[6] They are self-created, or better yet, self-decreated, and then re-created, although what is re-created is not a self, but a reflection or an image. The greater the opposition between his depravity or moral nothingness (and thus self-loathing) and his egotism (his injustice and his regard for others as mere instruments of his own gratification), the more pathological his narcissism, and thus the more grandiose and fantastic his reflected or false self.[7]

The narcissist is incapable of love; for his narcissism is the fruit of his refusal to revere others for their own sake, that is, to love others as another self, equal in dignity to himself.[8] His refusal to love barred him from loving himself because he became depleted and less lovable to himself. What he loves is the false self he has created and that he needs to see reflected in the affirmation and comportment of others. Such people are aptly referred to as narcissists. According to the ancient Greek myth, the nymph Echo fell in love with Narcissus. She died of a broken heart after being spurned by him. As a result, Narcissus was punished by the gods for his callousness: the gods made him fall in love with his own image. He would live till he saw himself. Eventually, he caught sight of his reflection in the water, became enthralled with his image and refused to leave the spot. He died of languor and turned into a flower. As Alexander Lowen interprets this myth, if Narcissus could say "I love you", Echo would repeat those words and he would feel loved. The inability to say "I love you" is precisely what identifies the narcissist.[9]

And since he is incapable of truly loving another as another self, all his relationships with others are perverted, twisted, and abusive; for to use a person is to abuse a person, and everyone in his life, without exception, is nothing more than a means of procuring affirmation, adulation, and admiration, or if that isn't possible, fear.[10] For it isn't the self that the narcissist loves, but his reflection.




Characteristics of the Narcissist

The narcissist is calculating. He is utilitarian through and through. He refuses obedience to the basic requirements of the natural moral law, for obedience implies that there is something larger than himself of which he is not the measure, but which measures him. Such a notion, however, is incompatible with the very thrust of his character. He has become the measure. He is calculating for the sake of procuring power; for it is power that allows him the control he needs to protect himself from exposure and from his having to face his own finitude. Power allows him to more easily procure a supply of narcissistic fuel. His entire life has become a struggle to procure this fuel, or what Samuel Vaknin calls narcissistic supply,[11] and he will employ the most devious means at his disposal to get it. And if, by some misfortune, he should come into a position of power, we can expect his style of leadership to be thoroughly Machiavellian.


There is no better insight into the workings of the mind of the morally depraved and narcissistic leader than what is provided in chapter 18 of Machiavelli's The Prince. The principal characteristic of such a leader is not prudence, but craft


There is no better insight into the workings of the mind of the morally depraved and narcissistic leader than what is provided in chapter 18 of Machiavelli's The Prince. The principal characteristic of such a leader is not prudence, but craft:
Every one admits how praiseworthy it is in a prince to keep faith, and to live with integrity and not with craft. Nevertheless our experience has been that those princes who have done great things have held good faith of little account, and have known how to circumvent the intellect of men by craft, and in the end have overcome those who have relied on their word.[12]

Because such persons have depleted their character so profoundly through choices contrary to the norms of reason, they approach the bestial level and will even begin to see themselves as such. For beasts are not governed by the natural moral law, but by the law of power. The narcissistic leader is fundamentally bestial in his rule, but he cannot appear that way without exposing his true colors, and exposure is his greatest fear. And so he must employ craft and know when to "avail himself of the beast". Machiavelli writes:
… it is necessary for a prince to understand how to avail himself of the beast and the man. …A prince, therefore, being compelled knowingly to adopt the beast, ought to choose the fox and the lion; because the lion cannot defend himself against snares and the fox cannot defend himself against wolves. Therefore, it is necessary to be a fox to discover the snares and a lion to terrify the wolves. Those who rely simply on the lion do not understand what they are about. Therefore a wise lord cannot, nor ought he to, keep faith when such observance may be turned against him, and when the reasons that caused him to pledge it exist no longer.[13]

Such a person, by virtue of his olympian egotism, always regards others as inferior to himself. Everyone is a simpleton in his eyes. What helps afford him this illusion is that most people are unsuspecting and are unaware of the degree to which they are being taken advantage of, used and abused. This unawareness is not due to a general lack of intelligence in people, but to their tendency to project their own range of normalcy onto others. Hence, their disinclination to suspect someone so profoundly depraved to be in their midst, carrying on an existence that is fundamentally and thoroughly alie. But the character disordered conveniently regard this trait as evidence of intellectual inferiority and will take a twisted delight in the knowledge that they have so many fooled.
But it is necessary to know well how to disguise this characteristic, and to be a great pretender and dissembler; and men are so simple, and so subject to present necessities, that he who seeks to deceive will always find someone who will allow himself to be deceived.[14]

When it is a question of evil, it is precisely the element of disguise that people tend to overlook. We are wont to assume that evil, character disorder, profound moral depravity, psychopathy, pathological narcissism, etc., are easy to detect and that such people can only intimidate and inspire fear upon a first encounter. But this is only the case with those not intelligent enough to disguise their depravity, like the common criminal. The most dangerous among us are those intelligent enough to appear as paragons of virtue.
…it is unnecessary for a prince to have all the good qualities I have enumerated, but it is very necessary to appear to have them. And I shall dare to say this also, that to have them and always to observe them is injurious, and that to appear to have them is useful; to appear merciful, faithful, humane, religious, upright, and to be so, but with a mind so framed that should you require not to be so, you may be able and know how to change to the opposite.… a prince ought to take care that he never lets anything slip from his lips that is not replete with the above-named five qualities, that he may appear to him who sees and hears him altogether merciful, faithful, humane, upright, and religious. There is nothing more necessary to appear to have than this last quality, inasmuch as men judge generally more by the eye than by the hand, because it belongs to everybody to see you, to few to come in touch with you. Every one sees what you appear to be, few really know what you are, and those few dare not oppose themselves to the opinion of the many, who have the majesty of the state to defend them; and in the actions of all men, and especially of princes, which it is not prudent to challenge, one judges by the result. … he will be praised by everybody because the vulgar are always taken by what a thing seems to be and by what comes of it; and in the world there are only the vulgar, …[15]


The most dangerous predators among us are ingeniously veiled. They carefully surround themselves with people entirely unlike themselves, that is, with deeply empathic human beings who wish to please others, who are slow to judge, who are excessively tolerant and who have an eye for the good to be found in others. They know how to exploit to their own advantage such character traits.


With respect to evil, there still exists a sort of half-baked Platonism in the attitudes of many people, for there is a common assumption that if a person is knee deep in depravity, either he does not know any better or is under the influence of environmental and psychological determinants he has no control over. But there is a distinction between intellectual and moral virtue. Morality is in the will. It is very possible to have a brilliant mind, but at the same time a wicked and depraved will. The most dangerous predators among us are ingeniously veiled. They carefully surround themselves with people entirely unlike themselves, that is, with deeply empathic human beings who wish to please others, who are slow to judge, who are excessively tolerant and who have an eye for the good to be found in others. They know how to exploit to their own advantage such character traits. It is their association with such people that maximizes their chances of perpetuating the facade and keeping themselves from exposure.

The narcissist despises community and emotional intimacy, and so they are profoundly lonely. On the one hand, though, there is something about their loneliness that narcissists like; for they can attribute it to their unique and superior nature. But as human persons who have a radical need for others, they cannot tolerate loneliness. This conflict is a source of chronic anguish; for loneliness is hell, and yet, as Sartre would say, "hell is other people" ("l'enfer, c'est les autres").

Man is a person, from the Latin persona (through sound). He longs to express himself, to communicate himself to others, whether depraved or not. Just as those who contemplate the marvelous or the beautiful cannot hold themselves but will cry out in praise of what they behold, so too the depraved cannot help but on occasion burst out and spit their bile, thus providing others a momentary glimpse of their interior rot. Moments such as these are clues that must be stored in the memory and, like disparate pieces of a puzzle, assembled later in order to acquire a more complete picture, which will be a horror to behold, or an experience of terror – if the narcissist discovers that he has been found out by you.[16] The clues, in isolation, will suggest only minor imperfections or character flaws. But taken together over a number of years, they suggest something much more ominous. The inconsistencies evident in the behaviour of the narcissist – prior to his discovery – should never be simply accepted, only to be forgotten. Rather, one must ponder the inconsistencies in behaviour until they become consistent, that is, until the apparently inconsistent behaviour acquires an intelligible narrative that rings true.

Some pathological narcissists are so clever that certain people will simply never be able to penetrate the disguise, no matter what has been pointed out to them. One reason they are so successful is that they have come to believe their own lies. The narcissist has convinced himself that the facade is not a lie. What helps to establish this conviction, among other things, is a commitment to a cause – a genuinely good cause. But after a few years of observation, one discovers that the narcissist's devotion to the cause is one sided and not grounded in a commitment to the principles underlying the cause, because after a time the inconsistency of the morality of the depraved becomes noticeable. His behavior, in other words, is not principled. And he will despise any individual or institution that expounds a consistent ethics, because it exposes his own inconsistent and arbitrary one and is a constant reminder of his own self-deception.

It cannot be emphasized enough just how much we typically underestimate the depravity of the pathological narcissist who operates behind a facade of respectability and altruism. We cannot forget that they have a desperate fear of exposure, that someone might catch a long enough glimpse at the rot that lies within and raise the awareness of others, thus threatening the power structure that took years of careful planning to erect. That is why the pathological narcissist is a long term plotter, like the brilliant chess player who plans ten or more moves ahead. It is almost impossible for anyone to uncover the complex and multi-layered schemes of such a person unless one is entirely aware of the depths of his depravity and the level of his intelligence. Knowing the one without the other leaves one ever open to being perpetually deceived.

The awareness that others have seen contradictory aspects of himself is a constant source of anxiety for the narcissist in a position of authority. And he is aware of the limits of human perspectives and that community has the power to enlarge individual points of view. When people talk with one another, they begin to acquire a much larger perspective on things, that is, they begin to see a bigger picture. The pathological narcissist who is in a leadership role cannot afford to have people talking amongst themselves and sharing stories. So he will go to great lengths and carefully contrive very devious and underhanded schemes to keep people divided. He will sow division among colleagues by planting lies about one person to another, and another about someone else. This can be a successful strategy because no one expects a highly intelligent adult to be carrying on like a scheming eight year old child or an emotionally disturbed adolescent. And since most of us avoid confrontation, it is much easier to believe the liar.

Pathological narcissists succeed for a time because of the extreme resonance of their personality structure. As Samuel Vaknin writes: "Narcissists appear to be unpleasantly deliberate... They are too human, or too inhuman, or too modest, or too haughty, or too loving, or too cold, or too empathic, or too strong, or too industrious, or too casual, or too enthusiastic, or too indifferent, or too courteous, or too abrasive."[17] He is an enigma, at least prior to his exposure. One can't help but reason that he's either an outstanding citizen, leader, priest, court judge, teacher, etc., or he's the most morally depraved individual you are going to meet for a long while. And very few of us expect to discover such a depth of depravity in well dressed professional adults. So we naturally conclude the former. For he is careful not to show opposite extremes to one and the same person, especially if that person is someone he needs. The majority in his immediate environment will see his "too good" side only. Should anyone no longer be needed, or should one happen to become a threat to his facade, such a one is likely to get a taste of the narcissist's vindictive nature, even one who has been a close "friend" to him for a number of years – a narcissist's loyalty is paper thin, for he is incapable of genuinely intimate friendships[18]. But only the targeted victim will see his vindictive nature, or a small few. He is careful to keep this side of himself from others, for it is an inconsistency that might expose him. So adept is he at this narrowly focused persecution, in fact, that any attempt by the victim to tell another will in all probability make him (the victim) appear as if he is losing his mind.

The narcissist takes advantage of every opportunity to favor a person who is down and in need – as long as the prospects that he will be of use later on are good. Such favors might include providing employment, personal counseling, boosting one's confidence, flattery, listening and being sympathetic (at least apparently), etc. Such opportunities supply the narcissist in a number of ways. Primarily, they ensure loyalty for the day that will inevitably arrive, the day when his personal edifice crumbles and he finally falls into the pit he has dug for his enemies over the years. Such a loyal following makes it all the more difficult for anyone to depose him. They also have the added advantage of helping him to persuade himself that he is good and that perhaps the gnawing awareness of that damp and dark cellar at the heart of his character was only a passing fancy. Furthermore, they provide a sense of superiority in that others depend upon him in order to be the persons they have become. When someone finally comes to realize that he is a treacherous and exploitative fraud – which is inevitable – , who is going to believe such a person when so many have been directly benefited by the accused? Gratitude makes it easier to excuse his "faults" or minor character flaws, and that is about all that the clues will suggest in isolation – and most people have poor memories.


But the narcissist experiences no righteous indignation. He only rages against the person who is a threat to his charade and/or who refuses to cooperate with his underhanded schemes. But he will not be incensed at injustice.


The depraved and pathological narcissist is very ready to forgive the faults of others, not because he is loving and merciful, but rather because he is indifferent. In fact, inordinate leniency is typical of narcissists. They are either vindictive or lenient, but rarely just. Leniency, which is a vice, is hard to distinguish from mercy or clemency, so it enables him to feel virtuous, and it also helps perpetuate the appearance of moral purity. Moreover, leniency provides another opportunity to ensure loyalty.

But ultimately, the pathological narcissist is indifferent to injustice and its victims. As St. Thomas Aquinas argues, the more excellent a person is, the more he is prone to anger (S.T. I-II, 47, 3). But the narcissist experiences no righteous indignation. He only rages against the person who is a threat to his charade and/or who refuses to cooperate with his underhanded schemes. But he will not be incensed at injustice.[19]

Courage is the mean between recklessness and cowardliness. Here, narcissists are also at both extremes, never in the mean. Indeed, they are often bold or inordinately daring. Their inflated sense of superiority propels them to recklessness; for they are subject to fantasies of omnipotence and unequalled brilliance, and they feel that they are above the law. And it is this sense of superiority that allows them to underestimate the intelligence and determination of their adversaries.[20] But they are not brave; they are cowards at heart. They lack the courage to gaze upon the dilapidated specter of their true selves, nor can they bear to look into the eyes of one who has discovered their true nature. They inspire terror only because we recognize that the inhibitions that govern the impulses of normal healthy persons are completely lacking in the pathological narcissist. They are psychopaths.[21] The terror they inspire is a source of narcissistic supply that contributes to their sense of existing, which they need to counter the sense of their own nothingness, created by their immoral and unrepented choices.




Narcissists and Religion

Narcissists, in accordance with their Machiavellian mindframe, will often appear religious, especially if they are leaders. But they may also ascribe to a religion in an effort to understand their special status, which they believe they enjoy. As Samuel Vaknin writes of the narcissist: "he is a captive of the false conviction that his uniqueness destines him to fulfill a mission of cosmic significance."[22]

The narcissist despises authority and is totally incapable of collaboration. That is why he inevitably seeks a position of authority, even in a religious context. Should he be Catholic, he will most certainly come into conflict with the teaching authority of the Church, for he has a need to defy authority, and he refuses to be measured by anything larger than himself, even God. Vaknin describes what the narcissistic cycle of extreme valuation and devaluation looks like in a religious context. Those who are sources of narcissistic supply are highly valued by the narcissist, not for their own sake, but for what they provide him. Should that production come to a stand still, should a person ever come to discover the true nature of the narcissist hidden underneath all his colorful layers, he is quickly and thoroughly devalued and demonized. As was said above, the narcissist is initially religious in an effort to understand his own uniqueness. He is a disciple – chosen – by virtue of a special quality in him, and not really by virtue of the mercy and gratuitous love of God. He is incapable of genuine humility and worship of what is larger than himself, and so God is eventually devalued, for He does not remain a source of narcissistic supply for long. The true disciple delights in the law of God: "The law of your mouth is to me more precious than thousands of gold and silver pieces" (Ps 119, 72). But despite appearances, the religious narcissist personally finds that law a maddening nuisance that unnecessarily limits his sources of narcissistic supply, namely the entire secular world. Religious narcissists, thus, tend to be compromising liberals, watering down the difficult truth so as to be more inviting and inclusive. But all they ever really invite and include are sources of narcissistic supply, nothing more (this, of course, is not to suggest that all liberals are narcissists).


Should he be Catholic, he will most certainly come into conflict with the teaching authority of the Church, for he has a need to defy authority, and he refuses to be measured by anything larger than himself, even God.


But religion has afforded the narcissist with a position of authority, which in turn is a reliable source of narcissistic supply. Hence, the reason some of them do not leave the Church–much to the dismay of some of the faithful. They are inconsistent in their leadership; for they are disloyal to the teaching magisterium, but they demand unquestioning loyalty and absolute deference to their own authority. Should this demand for obedience become too obvious, they can very cleverly appear to employ a democratic style of leadership and receive input from everyone. With a large enough number of people at hand, the clever narcissist can find fragments of his own vision in some of their ideas. If one watches carefully, one notices how he collects those very pieces and assembles them into a vision which everyone thinks was democratically determined. But the final product in no way will have differed significantly from what he had decided originally, before consulting anyone. The democratic process, which was under his control from the beginning, only lends the appearance of collaboration and democracy.

The pseudo-religious narcissist will especially identify with certain biblical imagery, such as the Good Shepherd, which depicts a human person amidst irrational animals of an inferior nature. The Parable of the Talents lends itself very well to the narcissist's twisted mind. In this parable, some servants are given five talents, another two, to a third only one, each in proportion to his ability. The narcissist of course sees himself as a ten and everyone else as a two or a one. Only those whom he needs and who supply him with fuel qualify as a ten, but these may quickly find themselves reduced to a two or a one should their status as supplier suddenly change. Such a parable can become a useful tool of manipulation and flattery. In short, the narcissist's use of scripture is as twisted as Satan's in the temptation in the wilderness.

There have been a number of false norms that have been made popular over the years that have only made it easier for the depraved and pathological narcissist to continue undetected. The popular exhortation to be tolerant, positive, non-judgmental and inclusive are prime examples. If a person sees the glass half full, he is positive and optimistic, but negative and pessimistic if he sees it half empty. The problem here, though, is that evil is parasitic. As was said above, there is simply no such thing as pure evil, because evil is a lack of due being. The optimist who refuses to see the lack lest he begin to feel negative is blinding himself to evil and contributing to the creation of the kind of environment that the depraved require in order to flourish. Good is the very subject of evil. And so there will always be something good to behold in the morally depraved egotist. The half full/half empty platitude is simply useless, except for the ridiculously cynical that no one takes seriously anyway.

The biblical precept not to judge (Cf. Mt 7ff) is not and has never been an unqualified and absolute norm, as if making judgments were intrinsically evil. Rather, the biblical norm is qualified by the context in which we find it: "Why do you observe the splinter in your brother's eye and never notice the great log in your own?...Take the log out of your own eye first, and then you will see clearly enough to take the splinter out of your brother's eye" (Mt 7, 4-5). Scripture does not assert that all of us have logs in our eyes that we are forever unable to remove, thus barring us from ever having to judge that someone might have a splinter in his. The norm bears upon the hypocrisy of the morally blind passing judgment on someone much better off morally and spiritually. It is not a precept against making judgments; for as St. Paul says: "The spiritual man judges all things, yet he himself is rightly judged by no one (1 Co 2, 15). Scripture is filled with examples of negative judgments (Cf. Acts 5, 1-5; 8, 21-22; Rm 1, 1ff; Eph 4, 5). The narcissist is ever scheming to create a safe environment primarily for himself,[23] and so what could better serve him than to be surrounded by people who are committed to an unqualified refusal to make judgments?

Narcissists will forever seek positions of power. But such positions must be forever denied them. They must never be given authority. But so few are denied positions of authority because they are so adept at disguise. They are convincing, articulate, and charismatic. But the narcissist is all about power. His entire leadership is a game played ultimately for the sake of himself. Everyone under his authority is being abused in one form or another, and the damage he can do is far reaching. The facade he uses to hide his depravity and fool the world may very well contain genuinely good things, such as religious, political, judicial, or educational principles. But most of his victims will forever associate his deception with these good things and will be unable to distinguish between what is genuinely good from the narcissist's abuse of it. In rejecting the one, they inevitably reject the other. How many good things are irretrievably lost to others as a result of such abuse?




Conditions for Penetrating the Disguise

How is it possible to maximize one's chances of penetrating the almost impenetrable disguises of the character disordered? And how do we keep ourselves from falling into the web of their deceitful scheming?

First, it is a mistake to decide never to trust another human being. There are many honest persons who are entirely trustworthy. But there is a difference between trusting another and trusting in another. We ought not to forget that every man is fundamentally a man: "It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in man. It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in princes" (Ps 118, 8-9).

We should also learn to cultivate a kind of "spiritual Kantianism"; for it was the German philosopher Immanuel Kant who distinguished between phenomenon (appearance, or the world as it appears to us) and noumenon (the thing in itself, insofar as it is not an object of our sensible intuition). This distinction may not be sound epistemology, for it led ultimately to Idealism and Post-Modernism, but we should nonetheless understand that things are not always as they appear to be. Evil is brilliantly inconspicuous: "There is a wickedness which is unscrupulous but nonetheless dishonest, and there are those who misuse kindness to win their case. There is the person who will walk bowed down with grief, when inwardly this is nothing but deceit: he hides his face and pretends to be deaf, if he is not unmasked, he will take advantage of you. There is the person who is prevented from sinning by lack of strength, yet he will do wrong when he gets the chance" (Si 19, 20-30).

Anyone who goes for a stroll in a posh residential neighborhood naturally assumes that the interior of the houses are for the most part as attractive as their exterior. No one, upon entering, expects to find a desolate interior, that is, a mass of rubble. But some human beings are not always whom we expect them to be; for we naturally project our own basic character traits onto others. But this is not always prudent: "Someone with a sly wink is plotting mischief, no one can dissuade him from it. Honey-tongued to your face, he is lost in admiration at your words; but behind your back he has other things to say, and turns your words into a stumbling-block" (Si 27, 22-23).


The unrepentant excuse themselves, and motivated by an unconscious desire to be excused by others (not forgiven, which implies confession and contrition), he will readily excuse the faults and failings of others, obliging them to do likewise. Hence, the current widespread approbation of tolerance as the perfection of justice. But tolerance is not necessarily a virtue, for there is a great deal that love refuses to tolerate.


The character disordered are highly intuitive. Samuel Vaknin writes: "The narcissist, above all, is a shrewd manipulator of human character and its fault lines."[24] Moreover, he "is possessed of an uncanny ability to psychologically penetrate others."[25] If we do not wish to find ourselves cooperating in the underhanded schemes of the character disordered, we must decide from the outset never to compromise justice, nor do evil that good may come of it. We ought to commit to frequent confession, for unrepented sin can lead us to becoming permissive under the guise of being tolerant and forgiving. But the permissive are not forgiving, only indifferent. The unrepentant excuse themselves, and motivated by an unconscious desire to be excused by others (not forgiven, which implies confession and contrition), he will readily excuse the faults and failings of others, obliging them to do likewise. Hence, the current widespread approbation of tolerance as the perfection of justice. But tolerance is not necessarily a virtue, for there is a great deal that love refuses to tolerate. Again, such confusion only establishes the conditions that the character disordered depend upon in order to keep themselves from being exposed. We can undermine such conditions by praying that we might be given a horror of sin and by cultivating a hatred of injustice.

To keep oneself from being fooled by the narcissist whose facade includes Catholicism, we only have to remain faithful to Peter. The narcissist cannot help but defy authority, and if he is highly intelligent, his dissent will be subtle and covert. He will be loved by the majority for his "progressive" and "compassionate" posture, but he cannot afford to be too overt in his liberalism. If he is ordained, he will plot for ecclesiastical office, for he is not content with the humble and obscure life of a simple priest, which is why as a priest, his ministry almost always takes on a theatrical hue. He will do things out of the ordinary, often subtly unorthodox, things that call attention to himself and make him popular with a particular contingent of the parish. But underneath the facade, nonetheless, lurks a man who is anything but compassionate, as some people eventually discover.[26]

By remaining faithful to Peter, one takes a path that ultimately the narcissist cannot follow. It is by virtue of this fidelity that we share in the benefits of Christ's prayer for Peter: "Simon, Simon! Look, Satan has got his wish to sift you all like wheat; but I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail, and once you have recovered, you in your turn must strengthen your brothers" (Lk 22, 31). All of them will be sifted like wheat, but Peter will not fail, not by virtue of his own strength – from this angle, he failed – , but by virtue of Christ's prayer for him. There will be made available to us all sorts of solid objects for us to hold onto that will provide the appearance of stability, but these solid objects are only floating debris, pushed along by the current. Only the rock (petros) embedded into the river floor is truly stable and unyielding. Hang onto that, and we resist the passing current of deceptive ideas and ever changing mores.



Endnotes:

1. "Every art and every inquiry, and similarly every action and pursuit, is thought to aim at some good; and for this reason the good has rightly been declared to be that at which all things aim."NE. Bk 1, 1.

2. Enchir. 13.

3. Sartre writes: "But if existence really does precede essence, man is responsible for what he is. Thus, existentialism's first move is to make every man aware of what he is and to make the full responsibility of his existence rest on him. And when we say that a man is responsible for himself, we do not only mean that he is responsible for his own individuality, but that he is responsible for all men." Existentialism and Human Emotion. New York:. Philosophical Library. 1985. p.16.

4. Often the terms 'personality' and 'character' are used interchangeably. But if by personality we mean aspects of the self that are determined, such as temperament and environmentally determined behaviour patterns, neurosis, etc, then character is not the same thing as personality. One may have a distasteful personality, but good moral character. Conversely, one may have a great personality, but bad character.

5. The Meaning of Love. London, Floris Books. pp. 42-44

6. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, fourth Edition (American Psychiatric Association), lists the following criteria for 301.81 Narcissistic Personality Disorder: A pervasive pattern of grandiosity (in fantasy or behavior), need for admiration, and lack of empathy, beginning by early adulthood and present in a variety of contexts, as indicated by five (or more) of the following:
has a grandiose sense of self-importance (e.g., exaggerates achievements and talents, expects to be recognized as superior without commensurate achievements)
is preoccupied with fantasies of unlimited success, power, brilliance, beauty, or ideal love
believes that he or she is "special" and unique and can only be understood by, or should associate with, other special or high-status people (or institutions)
requires excessive admiration
has a sense of entitlement, i.e., unreasonable expectations of especially favorable treatment or automatic compliance with his or her expectations
is interpersonally exploitative, i.e., takes advantage of others to achieve his or her own ends
lacks empathy: is unwilling to recognize or identify with the feelings and needs of others
is often envious of others or believes that others are envious of him or her
shows arrogant, haughty behaviors or attitudes

Samuel Vaknin, a leading authority on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, proposes the following amended criteria:
Feels grandiose and self-important (e.g., exaggerates accomplishments, talents, skills, contacts, and personality traits to the point of lying, demands to be recognised as superior without commensurate achievements);
Is obsessed with fantasies of unlimited success, fame, fearsome power or omnipotence, unequalled brilliance (the cerebral narcissist), bodily beauty or sexual performance (the somatic narcissist), or ideal, everlasting, all-conquering love or passion;
Firmly convinced that he or she is unique and, being special, can only be understood by, should only be treated by, or associate with, other special or unique, or high-status people (or institutions);
Requires excessive admiration, adulation, attention and affirmation – or, failing that, wishes to be feared and to be notorious (Narcissistic Supply);
Feels entitled. Demands automatic and full compliance with his or her unreasonable expectations for special and favourable priority treatment;
Is "interpersonally exploitative", i.e., uses others to achieve his or her own ends;
Devoid of empathy. Is unable or unwilling to identify with, acknowledge, or accept thefeelings, needs, preferences, priorities, and choices of others;
Constantly envious of others and seeks to hurt or destroy the objects of his or her frustration. Suffers from persecutory (paranoid) delusions as he or she believes that they feel the same about him or her and are likely to act similarly;
Behaves arrogantly and haughtily. Feels superior, omnipotent, omniscient, invincible, immune, "above the law", and omnipresent (magical thinking). Rages when frustrated, contradicted, or confronted by people he or she considers inferior to him or her and unworthy.

See Malignant Self Love: Narcissism Revisited. Prague & Skopje: Narcissus Publication, 2003. pp. 20-21. Let me say at the outset that I do not deny that there are a host of environmental conditions that are common in the upbringing of those with a Narcissistic Personality Disorder that contribute to it, such as a narcissistic parent, humiliation, etc. But environmental conditions are never enough to explain human behavior. I would argue that freedom and will consist in our relationship to our environment and all that determines us.

7. According to Alexander Lowen, there are degrees of narcissism. Beginning with the lowest degree, there is the phallic-narcissistic character, or what Samuel Vaknin refers to as the somatic narcissist, the narcissistic character, the borderline personality, the psychopathic personality, and the paranoid personality. Narcissism: Denial of the True Self. New York: Touchstone. 1997. pp.14-24

8. Samuel Vaknin writes: "Our experience of what it is like to be human - our very humanness depends largely on our self-knowledge and on our experience of our selves. In other words: only through being himself and through experiencing his self – can a human being fully appreciate the humanness of others. The narcissist has precious little experience of his self. Instead, he lives in an invented world, of his own design, where he is a fictitious figure in a grandiose script. He, therefore, possesses no tools which enable him to cope with other human beings, share their emotions, put himself in their place (=empathise) and, of course, love them – the most demanding task of interrelating. He just does not know what it means to be human." Malignant Self Love: Narcissism Revisited. p.92.

9. Narcissism: Denial of the True Self. pp. 26-27.

10. "…since the narcissist is unable to secure the long-term positive love, admiration, or even attention of his Sources of Supply- he resorts to a mirror strategy. In other words, the narcissist becomes paranoid. Better to be the object of (often imaginary and always self-inflicted) derision, score, and bile- than to be ignored. Being envied is prefereable to being treated with indifference. If he cannot be loved- the narcissist would rather be feared or hated than forgotten." Malignant Self Love: Narcissism Revisited. p. 97. Further on he writes: "Hate is the complement of fear and narcissists like being feared. It imbues them with an intoxicating sensation of omnipotence. Many of them are veritably inebriated by the looks of horror or repulsion on people's faces: 'They know that I am capable of anything.' The sadistic narcissist perceives himself as Godlike, ruthless and devoid of scruples, capricious and unfathomable, emotionless and non-sexual, omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent, a plague, a devastation, an inescapable verdict. He nurtures his ill-repute, stoking it and fanning the flames of gossip. It is an enduring asset. Hate and fear are sure generators of attention. It is all about Narcissistic Supply, of course - the drug which narcissists consume and which consumes them in return."Ibid., p. 161

11. Samuel Vaknin writes: "The narcissist derives his sense of being, his experience of his own existence, and his self-worth from the outside. He mines others for Narcissistic Supply – adulation, attention, reflection, fear. Their reactions stalk his furnace. Absent Narcissistic Supply – the narcissist disintegrates and self -annihilates. When unnoticed, he feels empty and worthless. The narcissist MUST delude himself into believing that he is persistently the focus and object of the attentions, intentions, plans, feelings, and stratagems of other people. The narcissist faces a stark choice – either be (or become) the permanent centre of the world, or cease to be altogether. Ibid., p. 95

12. Nicolo Machiavelli. The Prince. Chicago: Encyclopedia Britannica, Inc. Great Books of the Western World. R. M. Hutchins, editor in chief. Volume 23. Machiavelli - Hobbes. p. 25

13. Loc. cit.

14. Loc. cit.

15. Loc. cit.

16. "Terror denotes an intense fear, which is somewhat prolonged and may refer to imagined or future dangers. "Horror" implies a sense of shock and dread. The danger to which it refers contains an element of evil and may threaten others rather than the self." Lowen. Op. cit., p. 132.

17. Op. cit. p. 126.

18. "He idealises his nearest and dearest not because he is smitten by emotion – but because he needs to captivate them and to convince himself that they are worthy Sources of Supply, despite their flaws and mediocrity. Once he deems them useless, he discards and devalues them similarly cold-bloodedly. A predator, always on the lookout, he debases the coin of "love" as he corrupts everything else in himself and around him. Ibid., p. 149

19. "The narcissist "knows" that he can do anything he chooses to do and excel in it. What the narcissist does, what he excels at, what he achieves, depends only on his volition. To his mind, there is no other determinant. Hence his rage when confronted with disagreement or opposition – not only because of the audacity of his, evidently inferior, adversaries. But because it threatens his world view, it endangers his feeling of omnipotence. The narcissist is often fatuously daring, adventurous, experimentative and curious precisely due to this hidden assumption of "can-do". He is genuinely surprised and devastated when he fails, when the "universe" does not arrange itself, magically, to accommodate his unbounded fantasies, when it (and people in it) does not comply with his whims and wishes." Ibid., pp. 98-99

20. "Narcissism is ridiculous. Narcissists are pompous, grandiose, repulsive and contradictory. There is a serious mismatch between who they really are and what they really achieve - and how they think about themselves. It is not that the narcissist merely thinks that he is far superior to other humans intellectually. The perception of his superiority is ingrained in him, it is a part of his every mental cell, an all-pervasive sensation, an instinct and a drive. He feels that he is entitled to special treatment and to outstanding consideration because he is such a unique specimen. He knows this to be true - the same way one knows that one is surrounded by air. It is an integral part of his identity. More integral to him than his body... Because he considers himself so special and so superior, he has no way of knowing how it is to be THEM – nor the inclination to explore it. In other words, the narcissist cannot and will not empathise. Can you empathise with an ant? Empathy implies identity or equality, both abhorrent to the narcissist."Ibid., pp. 153-154

21. Dr. Stanton E. Samenow, leading expert on the criminal mind, writes: "Despite possible differences in background and the difference in modus operandi of the crime, the mentality of a person who robs a bank and a corporate executive who perpetrates fraud is the same. Both pursue power and control at the expense of others. Both are able to shut off considerations of consequences and considerations of conscience. Neither has an operational concept of injury to others. Neither puts himself/herself in the place of others. There are numerous other thought patterns common to both. Furthermore, the offense for which either is caught more likely than not represents only the tip of the iceberg of each offender's irresponsibility and illegal conduct. Both know the laws, calculate carefully so they can succeed at their objectives. Both experience excitement at each phase of the crime – from the initial idea through the execution of the act(s) itself (themselves). If apprehended, each will case out those who hold them accountable and feed them what they think they want to hear or ought to know. And they will try to dispel responsibility by implicating or outright blaming others. Concept of the Month, May 2003 http://members.cox.net/samenow/conceptmay_03.html

22. Op. cit., p. 202. Furthermore, he writes: "God is everything the narcissist ever wants to be: omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent, admired, much discussed, and awe inspiring". Ibid., p. 396

23. "He recruits people around him to affirm his choice and to confirm to him that reality is unreal and his fantasyland is reality. …The narcissist does not go through a midlife crisis. Forever the child, forever dreaming and fantasizing, forever begging for accolades, the narcissist’s sad figure inhabits the twilight zone between sanity and its absence." Ibid., p. 215

24. Ibid., p. 174.

25. Ibid., p. 189.

26. "The narcissist is seething with enmity and venom. He is a receptacle of unbridled hatred, animosity, and hostility. When he can, the narcissist often turns to physical violence. But the non-physical manifestations of his pent-up bile are even more terrifying, more all-pervasive, and more lasting. Beware of narcissists bearing gifts. They are bound to explode in your faces, or poison you. The narcissist hates you wholeheartedly and thoroughly simply because you are. Remembering this has a survival value." Ibid., p. 207






ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Douglas McManaman. "Narcissism and the Dynamics of Evil." LifeIssues.net (April 1, 2005).

Reprinted with permission of Douglas McManaman.

THE AUTHOR

Doug McManaman is a Deacon and a Religion and Philosophy teacher at Father Michael McGivney Catholic Academy in Markham, Ontario, Canada. He is currently the President of the Canadian Fellowship of Catholic Scholars. He maintains the following web site for his students: A Catholic Philosophy and Theology Resource Page, in support of his students. He studied Philosophy at St. Jerome's College in Waterloo, and Theology at the University of Montreal. Deacon McManaman is on the advisory board of the Catholic Education Resource Center.


St. Therese's Little Way


St. Therese, the Little Flower, was a French Carmelite nun in Lisieux who died of tuberculosis at the young age of 24. She was born in 1873, died in 1897, and was proclaimed to be the 33rd doctor of the Catholic Church in 1997. Her mother died when she was only 4 years old, and she suffered mightily from intestinal problems, headaches, and an undiagnosed illness. It wasn't until the Blessed Virgin Mary appeared to her while she was sick that she got completely well. When she was 15 and too young to enter the Carmelite Monastery, she pleaded her case before Pope Leo XII himself, who told her that if God willed it, she would indeed enter the monastery at such a young age. God did will it, as enter it she did. While there, she wrote and directed plays, did menial household chores, as well as performed duties taking care of the sacristy. So what is so amazing about this beautiful young girl?

St. Therese is the originator of "The Little Way", which is the way of those who are not rich and famous, and who want to serve God their loving Father through their littleness and simplicity and love. In other words, St. Therese knew that she was not capable of great sacrifices, or of performing great and mighty works. Rather, she chose to remain as a child in they eyes of God, performing all of her duties with love and obedience, no matter how small and insignificant they were.


Matthew 18:3: and said, "Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

It's hard to think of ourselves as little children when we reach 40 or 50 years old, but that is exactly how our attitude towards God should be. If we live to be 100, God still sees us as His children; The question is, "Do we act like we are His children?" Matthew 18:3 above says that we better act that way if we want to get into heaven. This, of course, refers to being child-like in our relationship with God our loving Father, not child-ish, which is a big difference. Our relationship with God the Father should be no different than the relationship that a 4 year old has with his father - One of complete trust that the father will take care of him, feed him good things, keep him warm in the winter, buy him appropriate clothes, educate him properly, etc. How hurt would we be if our 4 year old told us to buzz off and leave him alone, because he knew better than his father how to provide for himself? Very hurt indeed! And how hurt would we be if our 4 year old was afraid of us all of the time, rather than wanting to play with us and be with us and to be like us? A lot! But this is exactly how so many of God's children treat Him, on a routine basis.

Catholics would do well to imitate St. Therese's Little Way if they want to be happy in this life, as well as happy in the next. That "Little Way" consists of simplicity in life, prayer from the heart to Jesus, total trust in God as our Loving Father (not a stern judge), being a true child of God our Father rather than doing our own thing, seeking God's will in our everyday activities, doing everything for the love of Jesus with humility, being kind to people we can't stand, and a sincere desire to be with Jesus forever rather than to be in this world. It does NOT consist of trying to be a millionaire, watching dirty movies, gossiping about people, cheating at work to get the promotion, thinking about sex all the time, etc. After all, what is more important to you - Getting to heaven, or being successful in this life? Mother Teresa of Calcutta said that "God did not put me down here to be successful. He put me down here to be faithful".

St. Therese said before she died at age 24 that she wanted to spend her time in heaven doing good on earth, and that she would let a shower of roses fall from Heaven. If this sounds good to you, then asking for St. Therese of Lisieux's intercession on a daily basis is recommended.


2 Corinthians 12:10: For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities; for when I am weak, then I am strong.

Matthew 19:14: but Jesus said, "Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them; for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven."

Quotes from St. Therese of Lisieux

"I leave to great souls and lofty minds the beautiful books I cannot understand, much less put into practice and I rejoice that I am little because children alone and those who resemble them will be admitted to the heavenly banquet. I am glad that there are many mansions in the Kingdom of God, because if there were only those whose description and whose road seem to me incomprehensible, I could never enter there."

"How happy I am to realize that I am little and weak, how happy I am to see myself so imperfect"

"It is needful to remain little before God and to remain little is to recognize one's nothingness, expect all things from the good God just as a little child expects all things from its father; it is not to be troubled by anything, not to try to make a fortune. Even among poor people, a child is given all it needs, as long as it is very little, but as soon as it has grown up, the father does not want to support it any longer and says: "Work, now you are able to take care of yourself". Because I never want to hear these words I do not want to grow up, feeling that I can never earn my living, that is, eternal life in heaven. So I have stayed little, and have no other occupation than of gathering flowers of love and sacrifice and of offering them to the good God to please Him.

"You are not sufficiently trusting, you fear God too much. I assure you that this grieves Him. Do not be afraid of going to purgatory because of its pain, but rather long not to go there because this pleases God who imposes this expiation so regretfully. From the moment that you try to please Him in all things, if you have the unshakable confidence that He will purify you at every instant in His love and will leave in you no trace of sin, be very sure that you will not go to purgatory."

"O, how you hurt me, how greatly you injure the good God when you believe you are going to purgatory. For one who loves there can be no purgatory.

"For a long time I had been asking myself why souls did not all receive the same amount of grace. Jesus deigned to instruct me about this mystery. Before my eyes He placed the book of nature and I understood that all the flowers created by Him are beautiful... that, if all the little flowers wanted to be roses, nature would lose her springtime garb. The same is true of the world of souls, the Lord's living garden.


"God's love is revealed just as much in the most simple soul who does not resist His graces as in the most sublime."

"There is only one way to force the good God not to judge at all, and that is to present one's self to Him with empty hands. When I think of this word: 'I will soon come and I carry My reward with Me to give to each one according to his works ', I say to myself, He will be very embarrassed for me because I have no works. Well, He will have to give me according to His own works."

"It is necessary to consent to remain poor and weak; this is hard ". "I have always longed to be unknown, I am resigned to being forgotten". "It is necessary to count on nothing".


"I know well that it is not my great desires that please God in my little soul, what He likes to see is the way I love my littleness and my poverty; it is my blind hope in His mercy, this is my only treasure.... The weaker one is, without desires or virtues the more ready one is for the operations of this consuming and transforming love.... God rejoices more in what He can do in a soul humbly resigned to its poverty than in the creation of millions of suns and the vast stretch of the heavens."

"I tell you that it is enough to recognize one's nothingness and to abandon one's self like a child in the arms of God."

"Merit is not to be found in doing much or in giving much, but rather in receiving and in loving much. It is said that it is far sweeter to give than to receive, and this is true. But when Jesus wants for Himself the sweetness of giving, it would not be gracious to refuse. Let Him take and give whatever He wants."

More Quotes from St. Therese, the "Little Flower"

St.Therese's Autobiography, "The Story of a Soul"

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Nietzsche meets Therese


G.K.Chesterton observes that every age is saved by a saint most contrary to the spirit of the age. This clash–this ability by Divine Providence to provide a saint that stands everything on it’s head is exemplified by a comparison between Frederick Nietzsche and Therese of Lisieux. They were contemporaries. Nietzsche was born in 1844 and died in 1900. Therese was born in 1873 and died just three years before Nietzche in 1897.
Nietzsche stands as the terminal point of godless- humanistic “enlightenment” philosophy. His thought is the end of the line, and his own sad decline into madness and a sad lonely death somehow summarizes and symbolizes his life and thought. Nietzsche is famous for saying “God is dead.” but his thought is more profound and disturbing than that little quote. His rejection of Christianity was linked with his idea of  the “superman”. He regarded Christianity as a religion that exalted weakness and thought pity for the weak only encouraged more weakness. Dull Christian morality was, in his view, the enemy of the true vitality of man. The “superman” would realize that there is no objective truth and no objective morality–that God and goodness was all man made. As such he would rise above the mediocre and discover his own values, and these discovered values would emerge from his own essential will to power.
Everybody comes from somewhere, and Nietzsche was the son of a small town Lutheran pastor and teacher. He went to conventional middle class Christian boarding schools. He was the product of German, small town Protestantism, and it was this background that he rejected. What kind of a God, therefore, did Nietzsche consider to have died? It was the god he learned about within small town bourgeois Protestantism–a God who expected dull conformity of belief and behavior–a God who didn’t like smart boys asking too many questions. If this was the God that the boy Nietzsche was introduced to in his childhood, then not only was that God dead. He was never alive.
Therese, on the other hand, is not the child of small town Protestantism, but the child of small town, bourgeois French Catholicism. Her life and her philosophy are almost the exact opposite of Nietzsche. She never rejected the religion she was given as a child, and yet she questioned the same expectations of dull conformity and challenged them not by rejecting her religion, but by living it out in a radical way that turned the dull piety of the French bourgeois Catholics (and then the world) upside down.
If Frederich Nietzsche met Therese Martin how would the conversation go? He might explain the death of God and the inexorable rise of nihilism. Therese would say ‘the good God’ was not dead, but only man’s false ideas of God had died. When he explained how morality was discovered by each person Therese would reply that each person did indeed have to discover morality–but discover the reality of the received morality in a radically personal way. When Nietzsche explained how the great ones had to give up fitting into dull society, had to give up attachment to all material things, Therese would agree and point out that this is precisely what she aimed to do by becoming a Carmelite. When Nietzsche explained that this process of negation and discovery of true values was the process by which  the “superman” came to be, Therese would agree, but she would call that “superman” a “saint”. When she cries, “Sanctity! It must be won at the point of a sword?” or “You cannot be half a saint. You must be a whole saint or no saint at all.” She gives the world her own version of the “superman”–one who has overcome the dull conventional beliefs and behaviors and risen to another dimension of humanity altogether. Nietzsche’s use of poetry and paradox would not have been lost on Therese either–and this is where she trumps Nietzsche–she would say that the way to become that saintly “superman” is precisely by being what Nietzsche despised: a little girl. The way to become the “Overman” was to become the “Underdog”. The way to become a great human was to become a trusting child of the loving Father–a slave to others and a slave to Love–and one who follows the  ”little Way” that is a great way, and a simple way that is the hardest of all.
At the heart of it all, Nietzsche knows that without God there is nothing. Therese, on the other hands, sees that with God there is everything. Nietzsche says, “I will have nothing.” Therese says, “I will have everything.” The clash between Nietzsche and Therese is the great clash of our age, and the clash of every age. Will you live without God, facing the darkness of nihilism with bravado and nothing but the will to power? Will you follow that way which leads into darkness, despair and ultimate loneliness and death or will you follow the little way that leads through the ordinary into humility,  the way down that leads up, the way of negation that leads to life, and the way through the darkness into the light?

Rebuilding Catholic culture: sing to the Lord


September 26, 2012



By Sr. Joan L. Roccasalvo, C.S.J. *

“What have they done to our music!” A passionate cry from many American Catholics. The rampant impoverishment of Catholic Church music elicits this insightful conclusion from The Harvard Dictionary of Music:

"Western church music continues to struggle with fundamental difficulties whosedefiance of final resolution may be the hallmark of the vitality of the church and culture, or merely a sign of intractability. In secular terms, such difficulties may be considered as aesthetic, political, sociological, or even purely technical matters, but they have theological meaning as well (Emphasis added, 179)."

Power of the Sacred Arts

This week’s essay is the last of four dealing with the Church’s sacred arts. Music and the other arts have been a reason for returning Catholics to the faith, or a reason for their leaving it. The French writer Paul Claudel was moved to conversion when he heard the Magnificat sung during Vespers on Christmas Eve at the cathedral Notre-Dame de Paris:

"In an instant, my heart was touched and I believed. I believed with such force, with such relief of all my being, a conviction so powerful, so certain and without any room for doubt, that ever since, all the books, all the arguments, all the hazards of my agitated life have never shaken my faith, nor to tell the truth have they even touched it (Paul Claudel, “Ma conversion” in "Contacts et circonstances", Gallimard, 1940, p. 11ss; cf. also in "Ecclesia, Lectures chrétiennes," Paris, No 1, avril 1949, p. 53-58, quoted as note 34 in “The Via Pulchritudinis, Privileged Pathway for Evangelisation and Dialogue” (2006), III 3C)."

The great European cathedrals are Bibles enshrined in stone and stained glass, and compositions like the Bach St. Matthew Passion and the soaring chant wafting from monasteries are monumental expressions of faith that awaken the soul to God. Of sacred music, one student blurts out: “It’s so beautiful, I could faint!”

A Visual Image

Imagine that you are relaxing at the seashore on a calm day. All you want to do, for an hour or so, is set aside your preoccupations. You enjoy the gentle rise and fall of the waves. This repetition is like a melody of graceful, deliberate, steady, flexible, predictable movement, majestic to behold. Far from boring the spirit, the undulation puts it at ease. We ‘go with the flow.’ After a while, what happens? The rise and fall of the waves mesmerize us. Nature works its magic on the spirit, and this respite does free the spirit to put aside daily concerns. This visual image of rise and fall describes the essence of sacred music.

At its best, sacred music conveys a beauty that takes us out of street time giving us a foretaste of God’s time. It passes through the senses but speaks not to them but to the intellect, will, and ultimately, to the heart. Such music prompts the spirit to make that leap toward infinity so that the spirit is drawn beyond the form and oneself into communion with God.

The Church has not always assimilated beautiful sacred music but has allowed entry of the mediocre, especially from the nineteenth century to the present.

A Matter of Theology

History has acknowledged the central role of the Church in the arts. For centuries, Sancta Mater Ecclesia has not only promoted beauty in literature, painting, sculpture, architecture, and music; she has stood as their foremost patron as well. Despite this rich legacy, church leadership in fostering beauty has declined. This essay springs from the troubling realization that beauty is on the verge of being banished from Catholic theology. Not just minimized, trivialized, or ignored, beauty is also being dismissed as critical to liturgical celebration, for it is seen as ornamental or even elitist.

Christian discipleship is fundamentally a dynamic movement from self to the beauty of Christ. Were not the disciples first transported by what they heard, and touched in his very person? A lively faith consists not just in creedal words bolstered by the intellect and then believed. Without beauty, faith remains a bundle of truths that are formalistic, dry, and without spiritual unction. Nor is faith simply a matter of performing good deeds. Without beauty, one questions why such charitable works should be done. In fact, their intent may be so utilitarian that there is no transcendent overreach. Joined to truth and goodness, beauty is essential to the Catholic faith.

Gregorian Chant

Today, no one would advocate that Gregorian chant be the only music sung in parishes. Let us hope that cloistered monasteries allow its 3,000 or more melodies to flourish for the sake of their visitors and for the ages.

Sung prayer with universal appeal is more important than the style chosen. Still, plain chant is the melodic foundation and structure of all Western church music. Since the fourth century, it has developed as part of the Church’s culture, and well-formed chant melodies appear as early as the fifth century. It provides the orientation for all sacred music. It is the church’s very own music, a fact taught in all Music 101 courses. As a former student remarked: “It’s so out of it, it’s with it!”

Gregorian chant is an unsurpassed treasure of purely melodic music, and its complex flowing rhythms are far superior to the tyranny of the bar line. It is “predictably singable because its melodies have a limited range and makes them accessible to any voice, trained or untrained” (The Harvard Dictionary of Music, 179).

All church music – polyphony, motets, Protestant Psalter and hymn-tunes, have found ways of adapting their own styles to plain chant’s melodies and rhythms. Quite obviously, plain chant is out of place at secular activities – sports events, parties, at the beach, and camp fires. Its home is the parish or monastery church in the service of the liturgy. Neither conservative nor liberal, Gregorian chant is simply Catholic.

“Music of the liturgy,” writes Benedict XVI, “must be different from music that is supposed to lead to rhythmic ecstasy, stupefying anesthetization, sensual excitement or dissolution of the ego in Nirvana” ("Feast of Faith," 176). Plain chant is “silent music,” “sounding silence” (St. John of the Cross, “The Spiritual Canticle,” 46). This silence emits its own inner power. But listening to these melodies:

"Disturbs [people’s] inmost beings rousing them to meditation and prayer on the transcendent. They would rather not enter into the realm of solitude. At its core, plainsong suggests a world of aloneness, ineluctably insisting on one’s attuning oneself to one’s self (Cott, “The Musical Mysteries of Liturgical Chant,” 34)."

“Pride of Place”

Like previous official documents on sacred music, “Sing to the Lord” dutifully mentions the “pride of place” of Gregorian chant. However, the phrase “other things being equal” immediate overtakes the traditional phrase:

"The pride of place given to Gregorian chant by the Second Vatican Council is modified by the important phrase 'other things being equal.' These other things are the important liturgical and pastoral concerns facing every bishop, pastor, and liturgical musician. In considering the use of the treasures of chant, pastors and liturgical musicians should take care that the congregation is able to participate in the Liturgy with song. They should be sensitive to the cultural and spiritual milieu of their communities, in order to build up the Church in unity and peace (#73). "

“All things being equal” or mutatis mutandis or omnibus rebus aequis, introduces the Latin ablative absolute. The translations are meant to be ambiguous: (a) since all things are equal, or (b) although all things are equal, or (c) while all things are equal.

All things are never equal.

Mutatis mutandis is a generalized assumption that allows one to assert simply and simplistically, 'I'm off the hook.' “All things being equal” permits a person to avoid discerning the pros and cons of Gregorian chant, in this case, which has traditionally occupied “pride of place.” Accordingly, one need not offer evidence for the truth of its position before the bar of history and reason. Gregorian chant is viewed with caution and anticipated as a potential obstacle to full participation of the faithful. In short, “other things being equal” is a dodge. Colloquially, we would say, a cop-out.

Despite strong opposition to Gregorian chant and simple polyphony, there are vital signs that these forms, together with suitable, new music, are coming to some parishes.

Continuity of the Church’s Tradition

Before Vatican II, much of the chant and polyphony in use was too ornate, too remote and inaccessible for worshipers to sing. They may have participated quietly at Mass, but with few exceptions, they did not sing at the Sunday liturgy. A renewed post-conciliar ecclesiology rightly called for corrective measures to remedy this non-participation. Music was to be prepared in such a way that the faithful would participate in the Eucharistic sacrifice of the whole Christ.

Plain chant and simple polyphony were never officially banished. Nor was the Latin language. In practice however, the Church’s pure, fresh water suddenly disappeared underground. There, beneath the surface, this crystalline water continued to flourish in some, but not all monasteries.

Until the advent of ‘folk’-popular style, the vernacular hymnody of Protestant Reformed churches filled the void in parishes. Masses were referred to as “the four-hymn Mass;” this hymnody supplanted the singing of the Ordinary of the Mass and more simple Latin pieces. Still popular in our services, these hymns are easy to sing, beautiful, and theologically precise. The Catholic faithful sing them with gusto. The Christmas carol, “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” is one famous example. It has a strong theology of the Incarnation.

The continuity of the Church’s musical treasury does not merely reclaim the past without also welcoming other music that, as in previous times, bears the imprint of holiness and beauty. Ours is a living tradition as it was at the time of Pope St. Gregory, Palestrina, and that of the Elizabethan and Anglican School. Ukrainian and Russian sacred music, and their contemporary composers have also been assimilated into the Church’s broadened treasury.

Gregorian chant has influenced many composers. Claude Debussy, for example, discovered the free rhythm of chant and used it with great success. Some of our senior composers are Joseph Gelineau, S.J., whose settings have a purity of style, Lucien Deiss, Leo Sowerby, Noël Goemanne, Flor Peters. JohnTavener and Arvo Pärt have based their compositions on plain chant.

Today there are more composers of beautiful sacred choral music than there are those who write in the ‘folk’- and popular style. The web sites of the New Liturgical Movement and the Chant Café list other groups and composers who can be found there.

Listening As Participation

Does active participation exclude listening to great music? Silence is another mode of active participation, a fact verified by throngs who nightly fill the concert halls. “Is it not active participation,” writes Benedict XVI, “at being moved by a piece of music, sung or played? “Are we to compel people to sing when they cannot, and, by doing so, silence not only their hearts but the hearts of others too” (“Feast of Faith,” 123-4).

Inculturation, Briefly Noted

Our parish communities are blessed with diverse cultures, and the choice of sacred music for any given parish should have universal appeal. Some sacred music is superior to others. If we did not make value judgments, parishes would still be singing “Whatsoever You Do to the Least of My Brethren” and “This Little Light of Mine.” This is not elitism but fact. The prevailing ideological view that European church music should take a back seat to music of other cultures is flawed thinking. Every European culture can boast of mature indigenous church music that springs from the heart of the Church. To recognize non-western cultures is not to ignore others. (Benedict XVI, “Feast of Faith,” 125-26.)

A strong musical unity must be found in our parish liturgies. This unity is Gregorian chant. The 2007 General Instruction of the Roman Missal declares that certain parts of the Ordinary ought to be sung at international gatherings as a sign of musical unity, but today our parishes do have that distinctly international character. This practice should become the norm, and the faithful should be taught the easiest chants of the Ordinary without delay (#41). Then, at the other parts of the liturgy, the parish staff may decide how best to deal with musical options provided they comport with the dignity and sacredness of the liturgy. Once the easiest chants have been learned, the congregation may advance to the less easy. In this way, parishes express Christian unity and pass on the treasury of sacred music to the next generation. I have attended Sunday liturgies in Europe where the Ordinary chants and the indigenous music of the locale are sung at the same Mass. The musical symbol of the Church’s universality is Gregorian chant whose home is wherever there are Roman Catholics.

One Hour a Week

Whether or not we admit it, “the world is too much with us.” Faithful Catholics attend Sunday Mass to be lifted up from the culture’s assault on their sensibilities. Just one hour a week, away from the din of daily life! A reverently-celebrated liturgy can be powerful enough for them to face the cares of the coming week. They want to be drawn into the ritual, the homily, and the music. The faithful deserve prayerful liturgy and music. Every parish is unique with its own needs, limitations, and talent. Sunday liturgy need not be elaborate, just celebrated with care.

What to Do?

This past week’s influx of mail brought strong reactions about the fad of ‘folk’ – and popular music. For many, this music is the reason for going to Sunday Mass. Other responders have offered various solutions. I share only a few comments. (1) Transfer to another parish where one’s spiritual needs can be met. Apparently, one pastor pressured his congregants into singing more “upbeat music” from a new OCP. An angry family left that parish. (2) Replace cantors who “botch the liturgy” with voices that sing off pitch, with voices that warble, scoop, and croon as in a cocktail lounge. (3) Request a meeting with the parish staff to plead for better music. (4) Write to the local Ordinary and ask for a response. Many feel helpless to remedy the situation. In all this correspondence, the feeling is one of common wisdom: Do what you must do.

Apologia for Sacred Music

As members of one Body, we are called to reflect on the powerful and formative influence the sacred arts have on the daily lives of the faithful and those not of the Catholic faith. Inferior art forms exercise an equally powerful influence to deform the faith. Are we consigned to the fate of “having nothing to look backward with pride and nothing to look forward to with hope,” to quote Robert Frost?

Finally, every parish is called to proclaim nothing but a beautiful faith: the majesty and glory of the Lord found everywhere. Can we bring a visitor into our Sunday liturgies and proudly proclaim: See, this is our Catholic music, our heritage, our pride. Here is our faith!


Sr. Joan L. Roccasalvo, a member of the Congregation of St. Joseph, Brentwood, NY, holds degrees in philosophy (Ph.L), musicology (Ph.D.), theology (M.A.), and liturgical studies (Ph.D). She has taught at all levels of Catholic education and writes with a particular focus on a theology of beauty and the sacred arts. Her e-mail address isjroccasalvo@optonline.net.

Monday, October 1, 2012

Carmelites welcomed at St. Monica

Catholic Voice Online Edition



Five novices join with five nuns at the new Carmel of Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

JOSÉ LUIS AGUIRRE/THE CATHOLIC VOICE


By Michele Jurich
Staff writer

About 800 people — a congregation reminiscent of Christmas and Easter — filled St. Monica Church in Moraga to celebrate the official opening of the Carmel of Jesus, Mary and Joseph, a new foundation of the Discalced Carmelites in the Diocese of Oakland.

Five nuns in brown habits and black veils and five novices with white veils took their places in the pews as the Most Rev. Salvatore J. Cordileone, archbishop-designate of San Francisco, celebrated the Solemn Pontifical Mass on Sep. 21.

The Mass, which was in Latin with priests dressed in red and more than a dozen altar boys serving, was celebrated on the Feast of St. Matthew.

The Rev. Gregory Eichman, FSSP, who was ordained to the Priestly Fraternity of St. Peter in May, proclaimed the Gospel. His order is dedicated to the traditional liturgy of the Roman Catholic Church. Father Eichman, 27, is assistant pastor at St. Anne Church in San Diego. His 19-year-old sister was among the Carmelite novices attending the Mass.

Their parents, who live in Fort Wayne, Indiana, were making their first trip to California.


The Carmel of Jesus,
Mary and Joseph

P.O. Box 183
Canyon, CA 94516
St. Monica Parish has organized a guild to assist the sisters:
St. Monica Church
1001 Camino Pablo
Moraga, CA 94556
Email:office@stmonicamoraga.com


The Mass and following reception offered a rare opportunity to see the sisters. Later that day, they returned to their monastery in the hills of Canyon, which would then be enclosed. The nuns will be behind grilles, and just two of them will be designated to speak to the public.

"Today we rejoice and give thanks to the Carmelite sisters who are establishing their enclosure with this Mass," Archbishop-designate Cordileone said in his homily. "You have left the world to seek the more perfect life, the life of single-hearted perfection in union with Christ. Your life is a more perfect life because it is in anticipation of the life of heaven. You leave the world to be exclusively with our Lord. Your prayers sanctify us and bless us."

He called upon those "who must live in the world" to understand "how to leave what is of the world while still living in the world. We must learn to leave all that is sinful, all that is selfish, all that is of the old self, so that Christ might make us new in his image."

At a reception after the Mass, supporters of the Carmelites gathered around the sisters, wishing them well and asking for prayers.

The sisters, who in the course of a day, rarely speak, were smiling and gracious with their well-wishers.

Fifteen members of the Third Order of Lay Carmelites from Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church in Fairfield filled a van, and four traveled by car, to attend the Mass.

The group, which in addition to studying the Carmelite saints, performs works of charity and outreach to meet the needs of the sisters.

"It's not very often that we can get in community with the sisters," said Barbara DiMarco.

Another attendee passing by, added: "They're angels."



Most Rev. Salvatore J. Cordileone celebrated the Solemn Pontifical Mass in Latin, with priests dressed in red and more than a dozen altar boys serving.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

MONDAY, OCTOBER 1, 2012

The Oblation of Saint Thérèse

On June 9, 1895, at the Carmel of Lisieux, Saint Thérèsemade the Act of Oblation to Merciful Love. In her autobiography she said: "I received the grace to understand, more than ever, how much Jesus desires to be loved." Instead of offering herself as victim to the justice of God, as did other religious, taking upon themselves the "punishment reserved for sinners," SaintThérèse decided to offer herself as a victim to the Merciful Love of God. She asked to be consumed as a holocaust in the fire of the Sacred Heart, in order to console that Heart and save souls. "Fire transforms all things into itself, " the saint wrote in her Act of Oblation. "I know that the fire of love is more sanctifying than the fire of Purgatory."
 
With her Act of Oblation, Saint Thérèse did not expect sufferings to go away. "I wish to suffer for Love's sake and for Love's sake even to rejoice...I will sing always, even if my roses must be gathered among thorns...." In a letter to her sister Celine, she explained: "The burden of our song is suffering. Jesus offers us a chalice of great bitterness. Let us not withdraw our lips from it, but suffer in peace. He who says peace does not say joy, or at least sensible joy....Do not think we can find love without suffering...."
Through her Oblation to Merciful Love, Saint Thérèse gained a deep insight into her Carmelite vocation. "I understand that love embraces all vocations, that it is all things, and that it reaches out through all ages, and to the uttermost limits of the earth, because it is eternal....In the heart of the Church my Mother, I will be love." She prayed that after her death she be allowed to "return to earth" to keep saving souls. She said: "I want to spend my heaven doing good upon earth."
"You will look down from Heaven, will you not?" asked her sister when SaintThérèse was mortally ill.

"No," replied the dying young woman. "I will come down." Another time she said: "After my death, I will let fall from Heaven a shower of roses." On September 30, 1897, in great mental and physical agony, the twenty-four year old nun, gasping for breath, proclaimed: "I do not regret having surrendered myself to Love." A few hours later, her last words were: "My God, I love You."

The miracles which followed her death took the Church and the world by storm.
(All quotations are from the book Soeur Thérèse of Lisieux, The Little Flower, 1912)


From prospect to priest: Grant Desme leaves the A's, becomes a monk and tries to find his peace



Thu, Sep 27, 2012 6:10 PM EDT


Frater Matthew (formerly Grant) Desme (L) participates in a ceremony on All Souls' Day. (Rick Belcher/St. Michael's …


SILVERADO, Calif. – On the morning Grant Desme ceased to exist, he was at peace. He spent years searching for serenity, convinced it was coming soon, next, now. It never did. Life was a blaring stereo, and he had become numb to its noise. The sound finally abated when he arrived here. He believed God muted it.

So on Christmas Eve two years ago he and seven other men marched into the church at St. Michael's Abbey and readied for a transition the church considered spiritual death. Grant Desme would go by another name. His plainclothes would become a head-to-toe white habit. For the next two years, he would commit to the dual life of a priest-in-training and a monk in the Norbertine Order. The naming ceremony bound him to the virtues of chastity, poverty and obedience.

To determine his new name, Desme submitted three choices from which St. Michael's abbot and spiritual leader, the Rt. Rev. Eugene J. Hayes, would choose. Desme liked Paul, Louis and Moses. None sounded right. Neither did Desme's second round of choices. On his vestition day, he knelt before the Father Abbot Eugene, who handed him a copy of the rule of St. Augustine.

"And in our order," he said, "you will be called Matthew."

Sometime after the ceremony, Frater Matthew Desme approached Father Abbot Eugene. For the rest of his life, people would call him Matthew. He wanted to know why.

"He said it struck him because [Saint Matthew] was a rich tax collector," Frater Matthew says, "and I was a rich baseball player."

On the afternoon Grant Desme retired from baseball, he was at peace. The world in which he had immersed himself was shocked and dumbfounded, of course, that a strapping 23-year-old center fielder with power, speed, smarts and just about everything baseball teams want in a player would quit. Sports is a place of great myopia, insular thinking and exaggerated accomplishment that conflates excellence and holiness. In baseball, God is the home run. And Desme knew that God well.

He hit 31 of them during the minor league season and another 11 in the prospect-laden Arizona Fall League, where he won the Most Valuable Player award in November 2009. He emerged as the talk of the league, and the team that drafted him in the second round and signed him for $430,000, the Oakland Athletics, started dreaming on Desme's future.

"He was going to be a major leaguer, absolutely," A's general manager Billy Beane says. "He looked like he'd gotten over that hump. And he could've been a lot more. A great talent."

People in the game scrambled to understand why Desme would give up the riches and the platform baseball affords to spread the word of God. The decision wasn't met with derision as much as wonderment. Athletes leave when their talents or bodies or something tangible betrays them. Desme left ascendant.

"I had everything I wanted," he says, "and it wasn't enough."

He had tried to convince himself it was. He spent his whole life idealizing and idolizing baseball. And now he was willing to leave it. The cell phone, the laptop, the car – the material things, he figured, would be easy. The trouble in the coming years – two as a novice, eight more until his ordination and the rest of his life as a priest – would concern what he gave up and whether he made the right choice.

He first told his parents, Greg and Janis. They knew Grant had spent time meeting priests, with whom he discussed fulfillment and peace, those symbiotic virtues, and how he felt neither. Greg and Janis figured his burgeoning career would overwhelm any calling. They were wrong. And proud. Though they thought it fair to ask why. Why now?

"Grant's personality has a tendency to jump first and think about things later," Greg says. "You don't want to look back and say, 'What if I would've stayed?' You don't want those questions. And when I said that, he got mad."

Nobody knew that Grant Desme had spent two years' worth of nights trying to resolve those what-if questions. And that no matter how much he tried, there was one he still couldn't answer.

About 25 miles southeast of Angels Stadium, where the Oakland A's are in Anaheim taking on the Los Angeles Angels, sits St. Michael's Abbey, a gorgeous, verdant midcentury time capsule set on the edge of Limestone Canyon Regional Park. This is where Frater Matthew lives. This is where he plans on spending the rest of his life.

He wakes up every day at 5 a.m. to prepare for Matins and Lauds, the first of 10 daily scheduled prayers. In between those and Mass at 7 a.m., he and the rest of the priests and seminarians observemagnum silencium – the Great Silence. It is a staple of monastic life and continues during breakfast and lunch.
Grant Desme was a star at Cal Poly before becoming a gem in the Oakland A's farm system. (San Luis Obispo Tribune) …

The marriage of seminary and monastery is a tradition espoused by Saint Norbert, who believed the rigors of priesthood demand the sort of monastic life in which brothers – or fraters, in Latin – support brothers. Desme sought this sort of structure. He had spent his adult life in the baseball brotherhood. It was familiar and comfortable.

The Norbertines of St. Michael's are a group with an especially rich history. Seven monks escaped arrest July 11, 1950, by communist officials in Csorna, Hungary, intent on shutting down their abbey. They avoided land mines and crossed a river to seek refuge in Austria before moving to the United States, where they worked for almost a decade before saving up enough money to buy the 34-acre parcel of land in a then-uninhabited section of Orange County.

St. Michael's celebrated its 50th anniversary last year, with Father Gerlac Andrew Horvath, 91, the lone remaining founding father. He has helped oversee great growth, with 52 priests and 24 seminarians, a renowned Catholic high school and two acclaimed albums of Gregorian chant. Frater Matthew spent the last two years trying to learn how to sing during morning choir practice. Suffice to say, he will not appear on any new album.

Between prayers in the afternoon, Frater Matthew and the novitiate work for three hours – cleaning, dusting, digging trenches, mopping, mowing lawns. The optional recreation from 6:30 to 7 p.m. usually consists of listening to others play piano and sing. He heads to bed around 9 p.m. in the cloister of cells he and the other fraters share. Each lives in a small room with a twin-sized bed, desk, chair, closet, dresser, nightstand and sink. None has personal effects. The novices change rooms every four months.

The closest Frater Matthew comes to leisure as he knew it outside St. Michael's is the occasional movie. One night this year he walked into the room and experienced a flashback. The movie of the night was "Moneyball."

Even those who knew him best never thought Grant Desme would give up baseball. At 4 years old, he declared he was going to be a ballplayer. Soon, that boast evolved into a Hall of Famer. And when Greg tried to temper expectations, Grant, with the conviction of a first-born, would say: "Dad, don't worry about it. It's going to work out."

He was right. Desme's grandfather, Vince Gallagy, was a former minor leaguer who passed along the genetics as well as the baseball bug. Nothing could break Desme's monotheism: He worshipped baseball, taking a break only Sunday morning when he joined his family at Mass. School in Bakersfield, Calif., never really mattered. He was going to play ball.

When Desme hit for the cycle in front of Tony Gwynn, San Diego State recruited him as an infielder. The fit wasn't right – Desme was a sweet soul and missed his girlfriend – so he moved back north to Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo, switched to outfield and by his junior season was featured on the school's pocket schedule. At 6-foot-2 and 200 pounds, his right-handed power came easily, his speed naturally and his potential abundantly. Desme was a rarity: a raw college player. He struck out way too much and then hit home runs so long scouts forgot about the strikeouts.

In 2007, he led the Big West conference in batting average and home runs, his apex coming May 12, when he went 5-for-5 with two walks, three doubles and a game-winning home run in the 12th inning. The next day a fastball from UC-Davis pitcher Bryan Evans clipped Desme's left wrist and broke a bone. It was supposed to sideline him for a month, six weeks tops. The A's took Desme with the 74th overall pick anyway.

The wrist injury lingered and limited Desme to 12 games his first minor league season. After separating his shoulder, he mustered three at-bats during his second season. At the beginning of the 2009 season, Desme would be 23 and have fewer than 50 professional at-bats to his name. The rehab frustrated him. The unfairness flummoxed him. He would confide his frustration in priests and began to understand his emptiness dated back to long before his injuries. He started reading more scripture. All those years, he played baseball, nurturing only a cursory interest in other things. Now, something out of his control stole baseball from him, and instead of wondering why, Desme began to question baseball itself.

An MVP award wasn't enough to keep Grant Desme's heart in baseball. (Rick Belcher/St. Michael's Abbey)

"I started thinking, 'What's this all about?' " he says. "I put so much into it. That was the big wake-up call. I was angry. I put everything I possibly could into this game, and it could be taken away from me in a moment without any fault of my own."

Before the 2009 season, Desme started visiting orders around Southern California, looking for a proper fit. One priest suggested St. Michael's. It felt right. Just not yet.

To make sure, Desme needed to play baseball again. He gave himself a year. If it improved – if the fulfillment arrived – perhaps the priesthood could wait. He was healthy finally, after all, and teammates noticed. They marveled at his strict diet, his stringent workout habits, his attentiveness to detail and his power. Desme had a brutal hitch in his swing, a hip slide that threw off his mechanics and forced him to tap his foot twice to stay balanced. When he didn't, he swung and missed at everything. When he did, balls went 500 feet.

"People throw the five-tool-player label around," says Sean Doolittle, the A's reliever and a onetime roommate of Desme's. "He had a legitimate chance to develop into a guy who could flash all five. And he was still a little bit raw. But his willingness to work, and his attitude about getting better, he was going to continue to get better. It would've been only a matter of time."

The home runs flew, and so did Desme on the basepaths: Between stops with Low-A Kane County and High-A Stockton, he added 40 stolen bases to his 31 homers and became one of the only minor leaguers in history to reach the 30-homer, 40-steal benchmark in the same season. His defense, maligned in college by his best friend, Logan Schafer, improved to the point scouts believed he could stick in center field.

There was one problem: Nothing changed inside. All the success he craved left him numb. Desme would sit on the bench and talk with his teammates about God. He and Steve Kleen, a non-denominational Christian, engaged in deep philosophical debates long into the night. Desme wouldn't proselytize, either; he was just there to talk, a father as much as a Father. And the more he thought about it, the more something occurred to him:

"I'm getting more enjoyment out of this than hitting the home run I did the other inning."

The 34 parishioners at St. Michael's arrive early on a Thursday morning – businesspeople on their way to work, widowers still mourning, mothers with young children, many of them regulars. Every morning at 7, they wind up the hill and peel through the abbey's one-lane road, usually too bleary-eyed to notice the foliage tended to by the Rev. Ambrose Criste: the purples and pinks and whites and reds and yellows and oranges of the flowers, the splendor of Italian cypresses trying to tickle the sky, the ivy on the walls of old buildings, the babbling brook hard by palm trees. Off in the distance, out on a bluff, is a single tree, as if to remind them they are always surrounded by one.

The doors to the Mass open early and welcome all. The church is sparse but for the stained glass that adorns it, tall, impossibly bright planks with faces and shields and words. One shield says: Succissa virescit – "Cut down it will live again." Another: "Looking ahead from the vantage point of tradition." An organ plays. People drop to their knees. The men of St. Michael's chant.

The Rev. Gabriel Stack leads the Mass in Latin, though he delivers his homily in English. He talks about Michael Phelps and a man named Brad Snyder. Phelps overcame injuries and adversities, he says, and became the most decorated American Olympian. Snyder was a bomb specialist inAfghanistan blinded by an IED who, less than a year later, won gold swimming in the London Paralympics. "Athletics," Father Gabriel says, "are a powerful metaphor for the many areas of life in which God has arranged challenges for us."

Off to the side of the altar, as his brothers stare at Father Gabriel, Frater Matthew bows his head.

Before the 2009 Arizona Fall League began, Grant Desme invited his parents to Phoenix to watch him play. Greg, a mortgage broker, was struggling amid the collapse of the Central California housing market. He and Janis weren't sure how long they would visit until Desme told them this may be the last time they see him play for a while. They came for a week.

He was playing against the best of the best in the minor leagues. Stephen Strasburg was his teammate with the Phoenix Desert Dogs. Desme faced Buster Posey, Jason Heyward, Giancarlo Stanton, Starlin Castro, Freddie Freeman, Matt Harrison, Craig Kimbrel, all future stars. For two weeks, none was as good as Grant Desme. Nobody on the planet was
.
The Desme family, from left: Jake, Greg, Matthew, Janis and Katie. (Rick Belcher/St. Michael's Abbey)

Desme went on a run still legendary among baseball personnel. The AFL is a hitters' league, certainly, but Desme's 10 home runs in 10 games burned scouts' thesauruses. They couldn't come up with a word for what he was doing.

"In the morning we'd look at our instructional league kids, and normally you want to go home and take it easy for a few hours," says Keith Lieppman, the A's longtime farm director. "But once he got going, we'd pull double duty to watch him play. Nobody wanted to miss it.

"I wouldn't say it was going to be like Mike Trout, but you saw speed, you saw power and you saw the ability to play defense. He opened a whole lot of eyes."

Much of the skepticism about Desme subsided. The A's were always higher on him than most. He was their center fielder of the future. Some wondered why. The age, the injuries, the strikeouts – not the best combination. And yet here he was, surrounded by more than 75 future major leaguers, playing like some immortal.

"This game is not that easy," he says. "It was nuts. It was 10 games of just – I couldn't do anything wrong. I remember that at-bat where it stopped. I stepped in the box at Mesa. First at-bat. I knew it was gone. It's just a feeling. That's why, in hindsight, I know it was God working.

"That was a special grace. That's what I had yearned for. There's nothing better I could've done that season. That was a big sign for me. OK. What's going on here? I should be happy about this. But I wasn't. There was something more. God was just tugging at my heart. That's what religious life is. God calls us."

When Desme returned to Bakersfield with his MVP award, he called St. Michael's. He wanted to live like a monk for a week, to see if he felt what baseball no longer provided.

He believed in the Catholic Church, in its virtues and its mission. He couldn't explain away the child-molestation scandals that devastated the church's reputation, and that of the Norbertines, who for decades declined to report serial abuser Brendan Smyth, the most notorious pedophile in Ireland. He recognized that as the country's opinion on homosexuality and gay marriage evolved, the church would be prone to criticism about an unwillingness to adapt. He would need to own religion when so much of the world snarked at it. The Catholic Church in which Grant Desme believes stands for good. God needs priests to resurrect the church's standing and lead people to heaven, to counsel the troubled and bring peace to the sick, to understand the supernatural for those who can't.


It was easy to look at Grant Desme and think he was crazy, for leaving behind the sport, the riches, the lifestyle, the family, the wife, the kids, the spoils of the bubble in which athletes live, giving that up for the same day, every day, forever. He needed to trust. God hadn't spoken to him, not one-on-one. He doesn't call like that. It's more an emptiness that only something bigger can fulfill, even if that something still has questions.

Baseball wasn't big enough. St. Michael's was.

The first phone call went to Billy Beane. It was less than a month before Grant Desme needed to report to spring training, and he was about to call one of the most powerful men in the game to which he dedicated his life – the person Brad Pitt would portray in the "Moneyball" movie – and tell him he was quitting to spend the next decade becoming a priest.

And it was then he knew this was the right choice.

Because he wasn't nervous. No jitters, no anxiety. Just 10 digits to freedom. Desme felt a little on the defensive when explaining it to his parents. When he got a call from his friend Logan Schafer, now a rookie outfielder with the Milwaukee Brewers, Desme danced around the subject, fearful of the reaction from someone inside the baseball world. Top 100 prospects don't leave the game. Arizona Fall League MVPs go to cathedrals like Yankee Stadium, not St. Michael's Abbey.
The vision Billy Beane initially had of Grant Desme, center fielder. …

"At first, I didn't really know what to say," Schafer says. "Then I realized it's a simple answer. It's how he explained it to me. He knew he had a career in baseball. But his love for God took over his love for baseball. He loved baseball so much, but he realized there was something greater in life that he had to do. This calling wasn't a one-time thing.

"For those of us who haven't had that call or that overwhelming need to do something, we can't understand. He's turning into the most selfless human I know. It's humbling to see. He made a decision as a human being, not a baseball player."

Beane, too, was thrilled for him. Taken aback, certainly. "I grew up in a Catholic family, so what he was pursuing wasn't completely foreign to me," Beane says. "I spent half the conversation congratulating him."

The closest thing he'd seen to this was when John Frank, the former 49ers tight end, retired after five seasons to pursue a medical degree. Or perhaps Pat Tillman leaving the NFL to join the U.S. Army. The players who called Beane were usually minor leaguers tired of the bus trips and worn down by the reality that so few do make the majors, that once ballplayers reach a certain age they're typecast as minor league lifers. Players with Desme's talent and future don't quit. They just don't.

"As I've told people, it's not something you try to talk him out of," Beane says. "At that point, it would be for your own selfish purposes."

Beane didn't tell him that he would have come to major league camp for the first time and start the season in Double-A, maybe Triple-A with a big spring, that he was going to be a major leaguer at some point or another in 2010 and beyond. He said, very simply, "I look forward to hearing your first homily." And that was the last they spoke.

Desme hung around Bakersfield for most of the next seven months. He took some Latin classes and went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem for 10 days. He met some old Stockton teammates at the ballpark in Bakersfield. He packed in everything he could. Outside of hand-written letters, novices at St. Michael's have next to no contact with the outside world for two years. So he tried his best to say goodbye to his family and friends, knowing full well some of those relationships would die with the man who was Grant Desme.

Two years here have scrubbed the last vestiges of elite athlete from Frater Matthew. He has lost weight, 20 pounds, maybe more. He swapped his contact lenses for rectangular glasses because contacts dry out during prayer. His protein comes from instant eggs donated by local grocery stores, not the shakes he guzzled to sustain muscle. He pretty much looks like a priest: a little bit of nerd and a lot of wisdom, quick with a kind word and even quicker to glorify God.

Everything in his life filters though that lens. Grant Desme never had a job. He was busy playing baseball. Frater Matthew learned the frustration of dusting and the monotony of cutting grass. He does it anyway because work at the abbey glorifies God. He sits silent during meals because it is powerful and peaceful, an act of denial that God rewards.

This is not rationalization. This is his choice, his belief. This sustains him.

"There's a lot of times where I'd like to make a phone call or go out and get some pizza or go hang out with some friends or something," Frater Matthew says. "That sort of stuff is all the time. And that's where you have to choose to be here rather than go through the motions. It's easy in this life to live in your imagination. You can run from things in many different ways. Where those opportunities come up, that's really where living this life to the fullest comes."

This is part of Frater Matthew's discernment – that which he must know is true because God says it is, and because the entire foundation of the order, of religion, really, is based on this deepest of faith. It's the sort of faith that forces him to answer his alarm clock at 5 a.m. every day, to pray in the church 10 times daily and spend most of his downtime buried in scripture, trying to learn how to live for God, something as confusing as it can be edifying.

"There's times when you don't want to go pray," Frater Matthew says. "We're all messed up inside. Things that we should do and are good for us we don't want to do, and things that are bad for us we like doing. I eat way too many sweets. I have a sweet tooth. I know it's not good for me, but I like them. It's not rational. Prayer is the best thing for our souls, but oftentimes I don't feel like praying. Just like a father loves his child, but when he gets up in the middle of the night, he doesn't feel like helping him. Only he does because it's the right thing to do. That's love. Love's not a feeling. It's a choice."

This is a test. This whole life is a test. Look at what he gave up, the cynics say. To which Frater Matthew says, but look at what I received.

"It's a miracle in a way," he says. "It's so abnormal to give something up that you've been working for your whole life, that millions of kids growing up around the country would want. To walk away from it, it's like, 'What's going on?' It's the working of God's grace and love. That's the only way it happens. I thought about it afterward. There are tons of minor league players, big leaguers, who get hurt. None of them reacted this way. For whatever reason, God chose me."

After home games in Stockton, Grant Desme and Steve Kleen would leave Banner Island Ballpark, zip about 10 minutes up Pacific Avenue and park at BJ's Restaurant and Brewhouse, which offered pizzas half off after 10 p.m. More than once, the manager had to interrupt their conversation and kick them out at 2 a.m. because the place was closing.

Kleen never met a ballplayer quite like Desme, someone so open with his beliefs and willing to accept others'. Kleen was 26 years old, a four-year player at Pepperdine coming off a missed 2008 with a torn labrum in his shoulder, holding onto the same thing every other 26-year-old at Low-A does: faith. He made the Midwest League All-Star team as a first baseman. He and Desme were promoted to Stockton at the same time. They roomed together on the road and shared dreams and hopes and frustrations.

Frater Matthew Desme participates in a priest ordination ceremony in June. (Rick Belcher/St. Michael's Abbey)

One of Kleen's was the fear that he wouldn't make it, that he was stuck because of circumstances or politics or maybe talent – that if he got the chance, the sort that a higher-round draft pick or someone younger might get, he would get to Oakland. In Grant Desme, he saw a friend with the talent and the pedigree and the reputation to soar. That was how baseball worked.

And through that prism it's obvious that not everyone was like Billy Beane or Logan Schafer, not like Tyson Ross or Jemile Weeks, former teammates whose memories of Desme grew fonder with his choice. They all made it. They all wore major league uniforms. They savored what they were given.

The A's promoted Steve Kleen to Double-A the next season. He hit .197 in 132 at-bats. They released him midseason. He now sells homes in Santa Barbara.

"I do have mixed feelings," Kleen says. "I know who Grant is. I know he's going to do amazing things for God. God is going to use him powerfully. That has eternal value. I can understand – to him that's more important than any accolade on the field. At the same time, when you're so close, and so gifted, with a God-given gift, that has to play a factor into the process. That's why they're mixed.

"He threw away what so many of us wish we had."

To better understand why Grant Desme threw away his baseball career, perhaps it's best to step away from the diamond and into academia, where a man named Gregory Criste wanted nothing more than to become a Rhodes Scholar. He distinguished himself in essays, played classical piano, worked lead roles in theater productions, step-danced, studied abroad, mastered foreign languages and aspired to teach. And when in 1998 he won the Rhodes Scholarship to study patristics – some of the earliest Christian writings – he went to Oxford expecting a satisfaction that never came.

"It's sort of like the terrible curse of success," says Criste, now known as Father Ambrose and the novice master for Frater Matthew and the other seminarians at St. Michael's. "I thought, 'Well, OK, I've got what I'm dreaming about. I'm still miserable. My heart is restless. So what does that mean?' That restless heart – I had to tend to it in a way that before was about attaining something like the Rhodes Scholarship. When there's still a restless heart, that requires a much more supernatural explanation.

"That's how God speaks to young men and women in our culture: when the world and what it has to offer will never be enough. Young people want to be heroic. They want to do great things. Not just what the world tells them will be great."

The world relishes its Rhodes Scholars and deifies its athletes. And it's Father Ambrose's duty, no matter the confreres' background, to help them understand that they do what really is great, what really can help the world, even if it's a cynical place that can't fathom how. There is power and peace in their lifestyle greater than what any of the brothers understood outside it.

"The human heart yearns for the infinite," Frater Matthew says. "It's why things are not always fulfilling. We always need more. Every experience is good, and then when we get used to it, it's not good enough. We want something more intense, more fulfilling."

Every day, in tiny fragments, he sees that as his truth. Every day he prays the question he couldn't answer becomes a little clearer.

Once a month, Greg and Janis Desme leave Bakersfield a little before 8 a.m. to make the 11 o'clock Mass at St. Michael's. When the service finishes around 1 p.m., Frater Matthew is allowed to accompany his parents into town for lunch. He must return by 4:45 p.m. There is only so much they glean from those precious hours and the hand-written letters he sends. The Desmes wouldn't experience the real Frater Matthew until last month.

A look at 10 notable position players Grant Desme played with – and outshined – in the 2009 Arizona Fall League:


Buster Posey, Giants
Jason Heyward, Braves
Giancarlo Stanton, Marlins
Freddie Freeman, Braves
Starlin Castro, Cubs
Jose Tabata, Pirates
Ike Davis, Mets
Danny Espinosa, Nats
Domonic Brown, Phillies
Mike Moustakas, Royals


Having completed his novice training, he was allowed to go home for two weeks in late August. Frater Matthew didn't entirely abandon his lifestyle. He went to Mass daily. He said his prayers at the appropriate times. He studied scripture. He did allow himself the occasional vice. He watched Schafer slap his first hit of the season. He also surfed the Internet – some of his forsaken possessions are still at his parents' house – looking for old churches in San Francisco, where they were going for a short vacation.

Greg is a huge Giants fan, and he wondered if Frater Matthew wanted to go to a game. Of course, his son said. They arrived Friday and headed to AT&T Park for Tim Lincecum vs. Josh Beckett. Frater Matthew wore his habit.

"Lincecum didn't look like he had his stuff," Frater Matthew says, one of the few pieces of baseball wisdom he picked up during his time at home. The A's were good again, and there was a second wild card, and the Brewers were hot, and that's about all he bothered to learn. He was too occupied meeting people.

Back in Bakersfield, he went to a new homeless shelter, introduced himself to the men and asked for their stories. One man talked about how he spent 15 years in and out of prisons and needed Jesus. Frater Matthew listened and said he would pray for the man, who thanked him.

When he returned to St. Michael's, Frater Matthew wrote a letter thanking his parents for their love and hospitality. Even though they went to San Francisco hopeful it would start a tradition – that a fun trip would accompany each of his future home visits – he couldn't stop thinking of the homeless men. They were real people with real struggles, in need of help and counsel, and he wanted to be their conduit to God's healing.

"It still makes me so proud," Greg says, "that he would give it all up."

He stops. His voice cracks.

"But in turn," his dad says, "he'll get everything. It's amazing. He wasn't concerned with anything aside from baseball. When he came home, we were standing around in our front yard. There's a rose bush. He must not have noticed it, because he looks at me and says, 'Look at this rose bush.' "

And right then, Greg Desme's son leaned over to literally stop and smell the roses.

"The question for me wasn't giving up baseball," Frater Matthew says. "It never was that."

He leans forward and starts to tell a story about a girl.

"She was pretty much everything I ever thought I wanted," he says. "I had to make a choice. That was the person I had imagined myself marrying."

He met her during his discernment, when he struggled to understand why God called him now. He wanted a sign. She was it.

"I really wanted to be married," he says. "To come to terms with living a celibate life was where it really was like, 'OK, do I want to do this?' And I needed to realize it's not a repression of these natural desires that are good. We have to learn to sublimate them into God on a supernatural level. We give them to God."

This is his battle. Marriage is a gift he desires and cannot allow himself. Parenthood is a privilege he relishes and cannot consider. He must be a father in spirit only – to people who need to understand their own faith, like Steve Kleen, and to men in need of guidance, like the ones in Bakersfield, and to his fraters, his brothers, to whom he is bound, and to the many he has not yet seen but will as he grows in soul and sanctity. This must be enough.

"Something like that never goes away," Father Ambrose says. "But that's true for all of us. A good priest is a man who can see himself as a father of a family and in some ways still wants that."

On the night Grant Desme broke up with the perfect girl, he wasn't at peace. And he may never be.

On Aug. 27, Frater Matthew once again professed his vows of chastity, poverty and obedience. His parents, younger brother Jake, younger sister Katie, and his 86-year-old grandmother, Louise Callagy, attended the ceremony that bound him to St. Michael's Abbey, the Norbertine Order, his five fraters who remained from the original group of eight and God.

About 30 percent of seminarians at St. Michael's are ordained as priests. The ultimate life tests and challenges and confounds and whittles away the majority of those who try to lead it. Toward the end of June, the seminarians needed to express their intent to progress from novice to junior professed – to take the philosophy and theology classes, to learn Latin and Greek, to move closer to God and further from temptation.

"Frater Matthew was still a little ambivalent," Father Ambrose says. "They have to be willing to profess a vow and able to keep it. It's very analogous to marriage. When you profess your marriage vows, you're doing the best you can. And that's going to take a couple decades to deepen."

Father Ambrose suggested he spend extra time in his cell praying. The loneliness of baseball – one man standing inside a rectangular box, his mind racing, his adrenal glands churning, him and another man 60 feet, 6 inches away, nothing but muscle memory to save him from embarrassment – prepared him for these moments of solitude. He found himself there all those late nights after ballgames, just thinking about life without the one thing to which he dedicated his life. He didn't have a degree, didn't get good grades, didn't do anything to distinguish himself off the baseball field. This was his life. It had to be.

"It's up to God," Frater Matthew says. "If God doesn't want me to be a priest, I don't want to be a priest. We have to live it one day at a time."

Even 2 ½ years after he left baseball, he still can't rid himself of the platitudes.

"It is a cliché, but the more I live this life, it's the crux of it all," he says. "Living in the present moment. The future isn't ours. The past is done. It's all right now. Every day you have to get up and choose to be here."

So at 5 a.m. today and tomorrow and every day until God tells him otherwise, Frater Matthew Desme will open his eyes and prepare for Matins and Lauds. And once he steps into the church with his brothers, he'll close them once more and pray that the God for whom he gave up everything helps him find the answers his other life couldn't.