Rebuking Sin

I was at a local Catholic book store this morning when a woman came up to the counter holding a holy card. “You should not be selling these here. This card says ‘Our Lady of Medjugorje’ on it. That is not an approved apparition site.” A discussion ensued --- if you can call a stating of opinions a discussion. As it turns out, the woman behind the counter and I both had both been to the alleged apparition site in Yugoslavia. The customer was adamant about the evils of that town, and lies told in support of it. For myself, I offered that the site has a way of opening the eyes of those who go there; perhaps she would like to visit there to try to understand things better – I’d pay for her vacation. She didn’t hold up her hands in a cross in front of me, but I got her message clearly. There would be no communication on the subject, and so I left.

This evening I picked up my book of sermons by John Henry Newman; I hadn’t looked at it in months. And so of course, the next sermon to be read was entitled: “Rebuking Sin.” (John Henry Newman, Parochial and Plain Sermons, by Ignatius Press. Sermon 24). Here are some excerpts.

“There are two sorts of men in the world; those who put themselves forward, and speak much; and those who retire, and from indolence, timidity, or fastidiousness do not care to express an opinion. Neither of these classes will act the part of St. John the Baptist (who rebuked King Herod’s sin) in their intercourse with others: the retiring will not rebuke vice at all; the bold and ill-mannered will take a pleasure in giving their judgment, whether they are fit judges or not. These self-appointed censors of vice are not to be countenanced or tolerated by any serious Christian. The subjects of their attacks are often open to censure, it is true; and should be censured, but not by them. They flatter themselves with the notion that they are energetic champions of virtue; there is a multitude of such men in these days.

Now such officious accusers of vice are, I say, to be disowned by all who wish to be really Christians. Every one has his place, one to obey, another to rule, a third to rebuke. It is not religious to undertake an office without a commission. Those who take upon them to rebuke vice without producing credentials of their authority, are intruding upon the office of God’s Ministers. They may be popular, be supported by the many, and be recognized even by the persons whom they attack; still the function of censor is from God, whose final judgment it precedes and shadows forth; and not a whole generation of self-willed men can bestow on their organ the powers of a divine ambassador.

What rules can be given for rebuking vice? To perform the office of a censor requires a maturity and consistency of principle seen and acknowledged. They who reprove with the greatest propriety, from their weight of character, are generally the very men who are also best qualified for reproving. To rebuke well is a gift which grows with the need of exercising it. The more his habitual temper is formed after the law of Christ, the more discreet, unexceptionable, and graceful will be his censures, the more difficult to escape or to resist.

What I mean is this: cultivate in your general deportment a cheerful, honest, manly temper; and you will find fault well, because you will do so in a natural way. Be frank, do not keep your notions of right and wrong to yourselves. Do not allow friend or stranger in the familiar intercourse of society to advance false opinions, nor shrink from stating your own, and do this in singleness of mind and love. The single-hearted Christian will find fault, not austerely or gloomily, but in love; not stiffly, but naturally, gently, and as a matter of course, just as he would tell his friend of some obstacle in his path which was likely to throw him down, but without any absurd feeling of superiority over him. And though his advice be not always taken as he meant it, yet he will not dwell on the pain occasioned to himself by such a result of his interference, except so far as to be more cautious in future against even the appearance of rudeness or intemperance in his manner.”

The conversation did not go well this morning, and I was reminded of another defense I had made of Medjugorje. Fr. Philip Lawler, editor of Catholic World Report, stated that he would not be seeing Mel Gibson’s movie, The Passion of Christ, because of comments he had read of its bias. I wrote him using my experience of Medjugorje as an example of something I didn’t understand, but could judge on its fruits – which were very favorable for me. I’d watch the Passion with the same open-mindedness, and watch for the fruits. He agreed.

In retrospect, I probably should not have spoken about Medjugorje as a topic this morning, but like with Fr. Lawler I should have merely spoken of my personal experience. I had attended church only spottedly for about seven years when I felt compelled to go there. And then I was able to see things more clearly. Like the blind man who was cured and then hauled before the temple priests, when asked what Jesus did to cure him he merely answered: “I don’t know, but now I see.” Before I went to that village, I was a blind man, but now I see. I don’t know more, and there are no arguments for or against which will change that fact.