G
GloriousOrder
Guest
Dear friends, I have a question!
If you do not know what the Temperaments are already, please read the Introduction. If you do know them, just skip that and go straight to the Substance.
Introduction
I have been reading the Medieval classifications of men regarding Temperament. For those unaware of this, there is a simple explanation. Each man was considered to have a certain level of bile, phlegm, blood, or other liquids which had a balance in each body. This was a proto-scientific manner of trying to classify human beings.
Some were Melancholic (black bile), some Choleric (yellow bile), some Phlegmatic (phlegm), and some Sanguine (blood). The Melancholic is often sorrowful and contemplative; the Choleric impulsive and fat-headed; the Phlegmatic deliberate and often unconcerned; the Sanguine happy and innocent.
Having read Thomistic explanations of these temperaments, I have become convinced that they tend to apply, in some way or another, to most people. Leaving the quaint physical liquid requirements aside, there are so many people who conform to these strictly spiritual dispositions. This is a profound way of ministering to people based on personality.
The Substance
I am most definitely, strictly, and undeniably of the Melancholic temperament. No matter which definition you read across the centuries, this is the temperament which unfailingly describes me. My entire life has been one long, passionate urge to become a hermit (though not out of Christian virtue, but selfish diffidence). I am happiest when drenched in a grand symphony or glorious concerto, alone with Beethoven in a deserted house.
One of the worst effects of this disposition is simply that I hate being around other people. It does not mean that I am purposefully mean, cold, or hateful toward them… in fact, I absolutely love being as polite as possible, and can talk about anything when I trust a person. Underneath these attempts at good manners, though, I dread contact with human beings, because I am simply incredibly introverted. This was fine when I was an atheist, but now that I am blinded by the oncoming headlights of Christ, there is a moral imperative to get rid of this shyness.
Roman Catholicism has taught me that there is more to faith than spirituality. My spiritual director (hopefully confessor after Easter!) has listened to me explain myself for many weeks. He says that I am obviously a brooding person with an intense ability to focus on Aquinas, Augustine, and other such writers. My mind drifts more toward thought than decisive action, however, and when I do commit to decisive action, I usually wait 3 seconds too long. This only makes me want to abandon humanity even more! Obviously, I have the distinctly Melancholic lack of Fortitude.
An example of this sorrow at other peoples’ company is simply my R.C.I.A. course. My director observed me sitting alone in the separate dining room while the other catechumens/candidates/inquirers were chatting by the chairs at the other end of the hall. It was not that I was trembling with fear at encountering other people, or that I was crying out of anxiety… no, I was perfectly fine! Deep in my soul, though, I saw no point to talking to others or becoming part of a community. My sinful actions all through life have made me used to the notion that other human beings are unnecessary. This is a remnant of my atheism, I think.
This sorrow at other people is the greatest stumbling block I have to holiness. I feel incredibly unworthy when I genuflect before the Tabernacle, because in my heart I don’t see Christ in other people; I only see other people. It doesn’t occur to me, naturally, that the holiest things in any given room are other human beings! This is the melancholic disposition: always despairing of God’s forgiveness, always scrupulous, always alone, and always getting lost in unnecessary thoughts. The last problem is worst of all, because I’ll neglect a lonely homeless man while in deep contemplation about how Christ is in all homeless men… a combination of shyness and selfish isolation.
How on Earth do I overcome this unwillingness to love my neighbour?
(As an aside, here is a reliable list of the Melancholic traits from Fisheaters:
These describe my personality completely, without one iota of dissent or difference.
If you do not know what the Temperaments are already, please read the Introduction. If you do know them, just skip that and go straight to the Substance.
Introduction
I have been reading the Medieval classifications of men regarding Temperament. For those unaware of this, there is a simple explanation. Each man was considered to have a certain level of bile, phlegm, blood, or other liquids which had a balance in each body. This was a proto-scientific manner of trying to classify human beings.
Some were Melancholic (black bile), some Choleric (yellow bile), some Phlegmatic (phlegm), and some Sanguine (blood). The Melancholic is often sorrowful and contemplative; the Choleric impulsive and fat-headed; the Phlegmatic deliberate and often unconcerned; the Sanguine happy and innocent.Having read Thomistic explanations of these temperaments, I have become convinced that they tend to apply, in some way or another, to most people. Leaving the quaint physical liquid requirements aside, there are so many people who conform to these strictly spiritual dispositions. This is a profound way of ministering to people based on personality.
The Substance
I am most definitely, strictly, and undeniably of the Melancholic temperament. No matter which definition you read across the centuries, this is the temperament which unfailingly describes me. My entire life has been one long, passionate urge to become a hermit (though not out of Christian virtue, but selfish diffidence). I am happiest when drenched in a grand symphony or glorious concerto, alone with Beethoven in a deserted house.
One of the worst effects of this disposition is simply that I hate being around other people. It does not mean that I am purposefully mean, cold, or hateful toward them… in fact, I absolutely love being as polite as possible, and can talk about anything when I trust a person. Underneath these attempts at good manners, though, I dread contact with human beings, because I am simply incredibly introverted. This was fine when I was an atheist, but now that I am blinded by the oncoming headlights of Christ, there is a moral imperative to get rid of this shyness.
Roman Catholicism has taught me that there is more to faith than spirituality. My spiritual director (hopefully confessor after Easter!) has listened to me explain myself for many weeks. He says that I am obviously a brooding person with an intense ability to focus on Aquinas, Augustine, and other such writers. My mind drifts more toward thought than decisive action, however, and when I do commit to decisive action, I usually wait 3 seconds too long. This only makes me want to abandon humanity even more! Obviously, I have the distinctly Melancholic lack of Fortitude.
An example of this sorrow at other peoples’ company is simply my R.C.I.A. course. My director observed me sitting alone in the separate dining room while the other catechumens/candidates/inquirers were chatting by the chairs at the other end of the hall. It was not that I was trembling with fear at encountering other people, or that I was crying out of anxiety… no, I was perfectly fine! Deep in my soul, though, I saw no point to talking to others or becoming part of a community. My sinful actions all through life have made me used to the notion that other human beings are unnecessary. This is a remnant of my atheism, I think.
This sorrow at other people is the greatest stumbling block I have to holiness. I feel incredibly unworthy when I genuflect before the Tabernacle, because in my heart I don’t see Christ in other people; I only see other people. It doesn’t occur to me, naturally, that the holiest things in any given room are other human beings! This is the melancholic disposition: always despairing of God’s forgiveness, always scrupulous, always alone, and always getting lost in unnecessary thoughts. The last problem is worst of all, because I’ll neglect a lonely homeless man while in deep contemplation about how Christ is in all homeless men… a combination of shyness and selfish isolation.
How on Earth do I overcome this unwillingness to love my neighbour?
(As an aside, here is a reliable list of the Melancholic traits from Fisheaters:
Code:
* Is self-conscious, easily embarrassed, timid, bashful.
* Avoids talking before a group; when obliged to he finds it difficult.
* Prefers to work and play alone. Good in details; careful.
* Is deliberative; slow in making decisions; perhaps overcautious even in minor matters.
* Is lacking in self-confidence and initiative; compliant and yielding.
* Tends to detachment from environment; reserved and distant except to intimate friends.
* Tends to depression; frequently moody or gloomy; very sensitive; easily hurt.
* Does not form acquaintances readily; prefers narrow range of friends; tends to exclude others.
* Worries over possible misfortune; crosses bridges before coming to them.
* Is secretive; seclusive; shut in; not inclined to speak unless spoken to.
* Is slow in movement; deliberative or perhaps indecisive; moods frequent and constant.
* Often represents himself at a disadvantage; modest and unassuming.)
uch: Maybe take some planned breaks and get used to being around others in small doses?
and on occasion a conflict magnet. 
but you’ll also feel more joy being around God and people.
It seems as if all those who obsessively take personality tests are melancholics! This is an obvious trend in my own life: to categorise myself by every manner possible, in order to better understand my soul. I have a feeling that this applies to all melancholic souls. What a revelation!
