S
St_Aloysius
Guest
I have a friend from a strong Catholic background. His mother is the most incredible person I’ve ever met: a true mystic. Raised atheist in Communist Poland and brought into the Church by her grandmother, she performed for the Great Pope John Paul II of blessed memory twice. She fosters an intense yet almost unintentional devotion to the holy Eucharist. God is never out of her heart or mind.
Their house is adorned in icons and crucifixes. Their interactions are telling of their strong familial bonds.
My friend was homeschooled from a young age. He and his brothers were left to develop into themselves free of many of the pressures kids like me faced. His mother, always artistic and full of pyschological insight, encouraged them to individuate in this way.
As a result, my friend is well-mannered, kind, humble, self-confident, fun, and always open.
When his brothers and I were playing Monopoly at his house one night then, it was much to my surprise–and amusement–to hear him exclaim, “Damn!” at an unfavorable roll. His quiet, calm demeanor and soft and melodic voice robbed the profanity of any sting or piercing. He offered a thousand apologies, all of which I rejected. It was a mild slip-up, and I thought for him to curse was something like a toddler to swear. He simply was, and is, too immaculate for me to really regard it as being any big incident.
The more I’ve gotten to know him, the more I’ve realized this is not merely a one-time thing. It’s ingrained. Perhaps from his mother. But, once more, I find it hard to penalize such godly people with what seems to be such a minor shortcoming. He always cuts himself short and apologizes.
He has only once, I think, used a serious profanity–and his contrition was sincere.
One night he asked me what the problem with it was. I had never scolded him for it. I only laughed and found it relieving that he too had faults–unbeknownst to me beforehand. It seemed no dent to his character.
He said he couldn’t understand why it was wrong to curse when it was not at anyone’s expense or done in a solely joking manner.
Even though I’d never gotten on to him about it, and in fact encouraged him to be himself around me, I stood up for purity of speech. I said it encouraged negativity in thought and was a sign of immaturity, spiritually and socially. I said this to demean the use of profanity, not to disown him–which I’m afraid it must necessarily have done. He asked why words mattered so much. “What’s the difference,” he said, “between stubbing your toe and saying, ‘cr*p!’ instead of… well, you know?” I said it wasn’t so much about the words but the intention and the reality they expressed. Hence why cursing in a different language isn’t taken as seriously to someone who doesn’t speak that particular language. It’s all about the underlying meaning. He smiled and said something very, very bad in Polish, which made him blush and his brothers go wild. I laughed too. He thought for a minute and repeated some of my arguments to himself… “Hmm… well…”
He seemed to agree on some level. I wasn’t feeling victorious, though. I honestly felt like a prude. Like the puritanical fundamentalist I, after converting to Catholicism, no longer had any desire to be.
I admit, I later compensated for this. It seemed no big deal and brought a smile to his face.
I guess I don’t want to fee like I’m reverting to fundamentalism. What’s the big deal about saying mild things now and again, in jest or in situations where no one is defaced? I guess I’m struggling to balance wholesomeness and fun.
Any thoughts?
Their house is adorned in icons and crucifixes. Their interactions are telling of their strong familial bonds.
My friend was homeschooled from a young age. He and his brothers were left to develop into themselves free of many of the pressures kids like me faced. His mother, always artistic and full of pyschological insight, encouraged them to individuate in this way.
As a result, my friend is well-mannered, kind, humble, self-confident, fun, and always open.
When his brothers and I were playing Monopoly at his house one night then, it was much to my surprise–and amusement–to hear him exclaim, “Damn!” at an unfavorable roll. His quiet, calm demeanor and soft and melodic voice robbed the profanity of any sting or piercing. He offered a thousand apologies, all of which I rejected. It was a mild slip-up, and I thought for him to curse was something like a toddler to swear. He simply was, and is, too immaculate for me to really regard it as being any big incident.
The more I’ve gotten to know him, the more I’ve realized this is not merely a one-time thing. It’s ingrained. Perhaps from his mother. But, once more, I find it hard to penalize such godly people with what seems to be such a minor shortcoming. He always cuts himself short and apologizes.
He has only once, I think, used a serious profanity–and his contrition was sincere.
One night he asked me what the problem with it was. I had never scolded him for it. I only laughed and found it relieving that he too had faults–unbeknownst to me beforehand. It seemed no dent to his character.
He said he couldn’t understand why it was wrong to curse when it was not at anyone’s expense or done in a solely joking manner.
Even though I’d never gotten on to him about it, and in fact encouraged him to be himself around me, I stood up for purity of speech. I said it encouraged negativity in thought and was a sign of immaturity, spiritually and socially. I said this to demean the use of profanity, not to disown him–which I’m afraid it must necessarily have done. He asked why words mattered so much. “What’s the difference,” he said, “between stubbing your toe and saying, ‘cr*p!’ instead of… well, you know?” I said it wasn’t so much about the words but the intention and the reality they expressed. Hence why cursing in a different language isn’t taken as seriously to someone who doesn’t speak that particular language. It’s all about the underlying meaning. He smiled and said something very, very bad in Polish, which made him blush and his brothers go wild. I laughed too. He thought for a minute and repeated some of my arguments to himself… “Hmm… well…”
He seemed to agree on some level. I wasn’t feeling victorious, though. I honestly felt like a prude. Like the puritanical fundamentalist I, after converting to Catholicism, no longer had any desire to be.
I admit, I later compensated for this. It seemed no big deal and brought a smile to his face.
I guess I don’t want to fee like I’m reverting to fundamentalism. What’s the big deal about saying mild things now and again, in jest or in situations where no one is defaced? I guess I’m struggling to balance wholesomeness and fun.
Any thoughts?
That answer is more than sufficient by itself - another is, that our minds, souls & bodies are not ours, but the property of Christ.