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Don \ Worry
By

Donald F. Miller, C.Ss.R.

Published by

The Liguorian Pamphlet Office

Box 148, Oconomowoc, Wisconsin



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DATE PUB.:

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Donl 'Worry
By

Donald F. Miller, C.Ss.R.

Published by

The Liguorian Pamphlet Office

Box 148, Oconomowoc, Wisconsin



Nihil Obstat

H. B. Ries

Censor Librorum

St. Francis, Wis.

Apr. 12, 1943

Imprimatur

Milwaukee, Apr. 13, 1943

MOYSES E. KILEY

Archiepiscopus Milwaukiensis



Don V Worry
HERE are few individuals in life who

escape entirely the bugbear of worry.

Some worry all the time about one thing;

others worry a good share of the time about

many things; almost all worry at least now

and then about some things. Rather general

observation of human behaviour warrants

the conclusion that worrying is about as

distinctive a characteristic of the human

species as the more philosophically expressed

attributes of rationality and risibility.

However, the human race does not seem

to be satisfied to submit passively to this

universal characteristic. Perhaps the most

frequently given bit of advice in the world

is the cryptic command, “Don’t worry!”

Business men tack the magic words over

their desks; lawyers, doctors, social-workers,

priests, inject it into the midst of more

technical instructions; friends employ it as

an inevitable bit of comfort for friends in

distress. It would be hard to think of a more

universal formula of counsel.

The only people who seem bent on pro-

moting worry are those who have some heal-

ing commodity to sell, like gargles or facial

creams or laxatives or remedies for dandruff.

They insist that people worry; they create

worries, on the pretext that they can destroy

them with their nostrums (which they

usually can’t) but with the real purpose of

making money off people’s worries (which

they usually do). Their advice is “Do worry!

so that we won’t have to worry about getting

3



rich”; and many are the deluded victims of

their campaigns.

Whether due to lurid advertising or not,

there are many worries burdening human

hearts that need not be at all. Worry may

be defined as a sense of protracted fear. It

is that state of interior agitation, distress,

anxiety, unrest, trepidation or strain that

renders a person miserable and inefficient.

Furthermore it means primarily those forms

of fear that have no valid or sufficient cause,

even though they are very real to the one

they affect.

There are, of course, forms of fear that

are healthy and helpful in human life. Fear

provides motivation that would often other-

wise be lacking. Every man should be afraid

of damnation, and this fear should be a

strong deterrent to sin. Every normal person

should be reasonably afraid of disease, and

this should keep him from exposing himself

imprudently to danger of contagion. It would

be both impossible and wrong to try to rid

human nature of its healthy fears, because

such are the immediate supports of the neces-

sary instinct of self-preservation.

It is unhealthy fear that disturbs the peace

of life, and unhealthy fear is what we mean

here by worry. However, much more is

needed than the command “Don’t worry!” to

put an end to the anguish resulting from

groundless fear. Worry is a demon that can

be driven out, not by the command of

another, but only by self-searching and self-

knowledge that will reveal the cause and

suggest the suitable remedy. It is the purpose

of this treatise to point out in a popular way

4



some of the causes of worry, to provide

self-tests by which they can be recognized,

and to hint at the remedies that the respec-

tive situation calls for.

I. Vanity

One of the most common causes of worry

is vanity. Choleric and sanguinic tempera-

ments are especially subject to it. Vanity is

an inordinate love of the excellence of one’s

own mental, physical, social, or other qual-

ities. Whether the excellence of the qualities

about which a person is vain be imaginary

or real, his inordinate love of them makes

for inordinate solicitude and anxiety as to

whether they are being properly shown off

or properly appreciated by others. That

solicitude often grows to the proportions of

real worry.

A young lady who is vain about her looks
will find herself worrying constantly about

whether her nose is shiny; whether every

wisp of hair is in the proper curl and the

proper place; whether there is enough or

too much rouge on her cheeks or lips;

whether she is edging toward obesity, etc.,

etc. This kind of worry can even spoil the

natural beauty with which a person is en-

dowed; it sometimes lends a rather furtive

look to the eyes, born of the constant search

either for a looking-glass or an admirer; it

makes for preoccupation during conversation

with others, and a sort of artificial tenseness

that can be recognized as a sense of fear

that to relax would be to disturb in some

way the ravishing effect of the beauty that

is being presented. This worry leads to ex-

5



travagant expenditures; to harmful diets and

treatments; and to agonies over a word of

criticism. Often, too, it becomes as distress-

ing to the mere onlooker as to the one

afflicted.

Public speakers are subject to acute forms

of the worry that springs from vanity. Either

they feel that they have a reputation to up-

hold, or at least, some power of eloquence

that should be recognized. Fear grips them

lest they might not come up to their own

estimate of themselves or might not make

the impression on others expected of them.

Worry sets in acutely from the moment

they begin to prepare a discourse; it grows

in intensity as the moment for appearance

approaches, and often even follows the

speech in a sense of failure— failure to
gratify the lurking vanity. Flattery banishes

the worry for a moment, but it always re-

turns; words of criticism intensify it.

Vanity is even the cause of much of the

worry that results in bashfulness and timidity

in the social contacts of some people. They

have an inward vision of some ideal of social

decorum or honor that they want to repre-

sent; with vain eyes fixed on that, they grow

afraid that they may happen to say the

wrong word, or get mixed up in a sentence

or make a breach of etiquette. Their hidden

vanity renders them unwilling to take the

chance and the result is that they stammer,

blush, become reticent— in general, show
themselves ill-at-ease and feel interior an-

guish.

Worries that are due to vanity can be

diagnosed as such and prescribed for only

6



by persons who are willing to answer in

undisguised honesty such questions as the

following:

“Exactly what am I afraid of? Is it not

just a loss of dignity, or of honor, or admira-

tion, or praise?”

“Are these the things that I pretend to

think worth living for and working for?

Or rather do I deceive myself, making be-

lieve that I am living and working solely for

the benefit and happiness of others, while all

the time it is my own vanity that is being

served?”

“Does not excessive worry about my ap-

pearance or my conversation or my work

point to the practice of such hypocrisy in

myself? And does not such worry frustrate

not only my pretended purposes in life, but

even the aims of vanity itself, by interfering

with my real efficiency and natural abilities?

What good is such worry if that be its cause

and its effect?”

The remedy that such questions will sug-

gest is a good dose of humility. Humility

does not allow a person to set up fictitious

goals of attention or praise to be expected;

it makes a man want to know only the truth

about himself or his abilities, and to be

known only for what he actually is. It makes

him simple, natural, unaffected, and un-

self-conscious; and such people are usually

free from worry— at least the worry of
vanity.

II. Diffidence

Closely allied to vanity as a cause of worry,

because it is also connected with a wrong

7



attitude toward self, is diffidence, or an ex-

aggerated sense of inferiority. While the

vain person has an exaggerated sense of his

own excellence or ability and a fear that he

may not live up to it or receive recognition

for it, the diffident person has an exaggerated

sense of his incapacity, and the result is the

fear of even ordinary tasks and responsibil-

ities. The vain person worries lest he may

not be exceptional; the diffident person

worries lest he may not even be ordinary.

Modern life presents many types of worry

due to diffidence. Hypocondriacs are persons

who are diffident about their health, and

their tribe has increased since the day the

microbe was discovered, down through the

years that have witnessed both scientific

campaigns against real disease and advertis-

ing campaigns against imaginary disease.

The hypochondriac is seldom feeling well

enough to undertake his ordinary tasks, and

when he does, fear of some approaching

malignity holds him back. To him, coughing

may mean tuberculosis; a sore throat may

mean diphtheria or a similar fate; and a

headache may bring a paralyzing fear of

high blood pressure, which sometimes, as a

matter of fact, results from such fear.

It is possible and not uncommon to over-

emphasize the imaginary factor in people’s

physical ailments, and this often leads to

downright neglect and mistreatment of

those who are really ill. But the hypochon-

driacs remain a steadfast group; always

afraid of what they might have or will have

if they do not take exaggerated care of

themselves.

8



Then there is the spiritually diffident type,

marked by exaggerated discouragement over

faults and sins and anxiety over temptations.

“I can’t” is the most frequent phrase on their

lips; the past simply blots out the possibilities

of the future with a terrifying dark veil;

every temptation is looked on as a signal for

a new defeat; every means of moral strength

and courage is deemed inadequate on

account of their weakness. Often this moral

diffidence is accompanied (if not really

caused) by false notions of good and evil

that it is difficult to rectify; the whole situa-

tion becomes a problem too intricate for the

sufferer to solve.

A third type of diffidence as a cause of
worry is that of the man who is afraid that

he will not be able to fulfill the responsi-

bilities of his state. Fathers of families are

especially subject to it. They are afraid they

will not be able to hold their jobs, or afraid

that they will not be able to get another

job if they lose what they have; afraid that

they will not be able to support their families.

It must be admitted that the economic mess

of the last several years has given too much

solid ground to such fears. However, apart

from depressions and unemployment crises,

there are those who lose jobs for no other

reason than their fear of losing them, which

paralyzes their natural abilities; those who

cannot find jobs because the inertia caused

by worry is evident at a glance to a would-be

employer.

Since this kind of worry springs from an

exaggerated sense of weakness, the person

afflicted has to concentrate on analyzing the

9



strength he really possesses, and for what

he lacks in that to trust in the providence

of God. A good starting point is the method

of St. Augustine crystallized in the axiom:

“Others could do it, why cannot I?” The

diffident person must take heart from the

accomplishments of others less favored than

himself. The hypochondriac will find that

men and women have at times thrown off

disease by forgetting about it; they have

accomplished marvels in the face of disease,

and when hampered by the presence of some

real disease, have diverted their energies

towards things they could do that make

their names live in honor forever. The

morally diffident person will take courage

from the spiritual accomplishments of men

like Augustine himself, and others who had

a far worse background than their own

against which to set a morally good and even

holy life; the physically or socially diffident

person will find, if he looks around him,

that far less happily endowed individuals

than himself have not only fulfilled essential

responsibilities, but have risen to some de-

gree of success.

But while such persons are learning con-

fidence in themselves, they must also be

developing their confidence in God. It is He

who gives a man his responsibilities in life,

and He has never failed to give an individual

the health, strength and courage he needed

for what was expected of him. The most

diffident person in the world can be inspired

by meditation on that simple truth.

io



III. Secret Concupiscence

A third fruitful cause of worry is one not

often mentioned but very common; it is

secret and unfulfilled desire or concupiscence.

Often people who wear furrowed brows and

anxious expressions are the victims of the

most selfish and unhealthy fear of all: the

fear that they have missed or are missing

some of the sweets of life. And not infre-

quently it is forbidden sweets that they are

afraid of missing.

Many a married man leads an agitated

existence simply because he is inwardly re-

belling against what he thinks is the monot-

ony of his home life and secretly dreaming

about rare and exotic forms of pleasure and

excitement which he has not opportunity to

enjoy. Sometimes such a man, displaying all

the signs of protracted worry, gets sympathy

that he does not deserve. “Poor man,” his

neighbors say, “he is not well, or his business

is in bad shape, etc.” This is one instance

where gossip is kinder than the reality; be-

cause what is really worrying the heart of

the man is that he cannot do everything he

likes and enjoy everything he desires.

Many a so-called neurotic woman is made

such over the non-fulfillment of impossible

desires. The motion pictures with their

luxurious settings, the cheap “love and pas-

sion” magazines, the torid romantic novels,

the newspaper play-up of gay divorcees, the

columnists, glorifying of night-clubs and

night-life have created and fostered in-

numerable desires that haunt sensual men

and weak-souled women. Because they can-

n



not live in anything like the pace of their

unmortified dreams, life has for them but

one long worry over what they are missing.

Self-diagnosis in this species of worry is

extremely difficult. The worries spring from

an entirely false view of life and a radically

distorted idea of what brings true peace and

joy. What makes the state still more difficult

to prescribe for is the nebulous character of

the desires that are racking the soul. The

victim often does not know exactly what he

wants; he knows he wants something other

than life is giving him, but the pointer of

desire swings so rapidly from one thing to

another that he never has time to recognize

by what he is being misled.

Despite the difficulty, the sufferer from

frustrated concupiscence has to force from

himself honest answers to some of the fol-

lowing questions:

“Just what do I desire that I haven’t got?

Forbidden experiences? Sinful pleasures?

Freedom from all restraint? Relief from all

responsibility? What noble desires for a crea-

ture born with a mind and a free will and

an everlasting destiny! What degrading

cowardice to let such desires destroy my use-

fulness in life!”

“And if I were granted my fill of all these

things would I have what I wanted? Did

anybody ever find happiness in such things?

Are not the soundest values in life to

be found in one’s work, one’s friends,

one’s means of innnocent joy, one’s honor,

even one’s suffering for the happiness of

others? Is it not because I realize this in

some vague way that I do not plunge into

12



the sort of pleasure-seeking that I desire?

Then why do I torture myself and others by

this secret yearning for what I have not and

never shall have?”

Such forthright self-questioning will lead

to what the worried sensualist needs most

of all— a healthy mortification of his appe-
tites and desires and his thoughts and

dreams, and unyielding remembrance that a

sense of duty and responsibility earnestly

applied brings the only real rewards a man

can know in this life or hereafter.

IV. Intolerance

The above forms of worry are all based

on wrong attitudes towards self. There are

many more worries that spring from a

wrong attitude toward others. First among

these is the attitude of intolerance.

By intolerance, as a cause of worry, we

mean that attitude of mind that makes some

people fuss and fume and agitate themselves

over the mistakes, imprudences, sins and

faults of others, sometimes even when these

have no direct bearing on their own lives.

Three marks denote them clearly: i) They

“cannot understand” other people’s mistakes

— thus showing that they have little or no
knowledge of human nature; 2) They can-

not conceive that they themselves might be

mistaken in condemning the conduct of

others; 3) They cannot bear with equanimity

the sight of mistakes; there arises in them a

sense of personal affront or sheer indignity

offered to themselves. The agitation of such

persons in a world like ours seldom subsides.

This worry displays itself in many differ-

13



ent spheres— some of them trivial and
others important. Almost everyone has met

the “intolerant automobile driver.” He has

an uncanny ability for noticing other people’s

driving mistakes— some of them invisible
to the normal eye. A flagrant breaking of
some traffic rule throws him into a spasm;

it evokes profanity; it calls for a tirade

against all automobile drivers (except him-

self), it rankles in his memory and has to

be told often with exaggerations. The more

normal person is not unmindful of the dan-

gers of the road, nor naively trustful of all

drivers; when an accident or a near accident

is caused by another’s folly, he may become

wrathful or excited; but beyond that he does

not worry. The intolerant driver worries

about eveyrthing he sees on the road,

whether it affects him or not.

In more important affairs, intolerant

worriers are not less excitable. Their minds

and conversations are filled with indignation,

for example, over the crooked deals of poli-

ticians, some fancied, some real; or over the

ignorance and ineptitude of educators; or

over the human mistakes made by priests

and spiritual leaders; or over the lack of

common sense shown by the citizenry as a

whole. They are the prophets of doom. The

sad thing is that life knows so little serenity

for them; it is one long worry— over others.
This source of worry has dire conse-

quences when one who is afflicted by it gets

into a position of responsibility with or over

others. It makes him suspicious, overbearing,

unforgiving, bitterly critical of everything

that is done by those subject to him. These

14



qualities turn others against him— and be-
cause he has so exalted a sense of his own

righteousness, this reaction embitters him

the more. So there follows a pyramiding of

worry upon worry, until his whole life is

soured, and there is no one left to bring any

comfort or solace to his heart.

Even an amateur psychologist can diag-

nose this condition of human nature as due

to a very destructive form of pride. The in-

tolerant person has a superior confidence

in his own judgment, often based on the

natural endowment of a sound sense of right

and wrong. Gradually he has grown uncon-

scious that he could be wrong— or at least
convinced that whatever mistakes he makes

are trivial in comparison with the gigantic

mistakes of others. Since he knows what is

right and good for human beings, he is con-

vinced that others ought to know this also,

and therefore when they make mistakes it is

sheer contrariness and malice. Interiorly he

writhes; exteriorly he fumes and condemns.

To overcome his worry, the intolerant per-

son has a difficult task. He needs two things

badly; humility and charity. Humility must

teach him that, even when he is most con-

vinced that he is right and others are wrong,

the reverse might be true; and that even

when he is right and others wrong, that

does not constitute him a judge of his fellow

man. Charity must teach him to realize how

many circumstances enter into the actions

of others: how poorly they may be in-

structed; how neglected their training, how

much less endowed than he with mental

qualities; how possibly guiltless in the sight

!5



of God for what to him seems certain sin.

Above all, charity must teach him to forgive

others their certain faults— and to turn his
powerful energies toward the exercise of

those deeds of mercy that will help others

avoid the mistakes that it is so easy for him

to avoid. All this will be contrary to his

temperament; but it is absolutely necessary

for his peace.

V. Over-Anxious Love

A second form of undue worry that
springs from social relationships may be

called “over-anxious love.” It is the character-

istic worry of mothers with regard to their

children; of young lovers and husbands and

wives; of those who have the responsibility

for others in almost any field.

There is a degree of anxiety that is the

inseparable accompaniment of true love, and

that is not what we mean here. It belongs to

the very nature of love to wish well for the

one beloved, to desire sincerely and whole-

heartedly that person’s happiness and secur-

ity. This positive well wishing cannot be

separated from its counterpart, viz., a linger-

ing anxiety lest any harm should befall the

loved one. Normally, the latter sentiment

should express itself by eagerness to do any-

thing within reason to prevent haim or mis-

fortune; a sincere concern when some actual

danger is imminent, and the constant em-

ployment of sound means like prayer and

intelligent advice in behalf of the loved one’s

security.

In too many human beings concern over

loved ones does not confine itself to these

16



reasonable expressions, but becomes a cause

of acute and unnecessary worry. The mother

who will not permit herself a moment of rest

so long as a son or daughter is absent from

her side; who conjures up visions of almost

impossible misfortunes happening to them;

who goes to extraordinary and unnecessary

lengths to ensure their safety— is afflicted
with the worry of over-anxious love. The

young lover who becomes incapacitated for

work and the ordinary duties of life by the

groundless fear of some danger to his sweet-

heart is another victim. And the disease

sometimes afflicts those who in a professional

capacity have a measure of responsibility and

care over others, like teachers, matrons, even

doctors and priests. Strangely enough, this

form of worry seldom afflicts those who

should worry because of neglect of duty; it

presses down on those who do all in their

power for those whom they love or are

caring for; it makes them worry over the

fact that they did not do what they could

not do.

This source of worry is not only a source

of acute discomfort, but it leads to graver

practical effects. Three particularly evil ones

may be mentioned: i) because persons who

worry thus excessively without reason are

ill-prepared for the real tribulations of life,

they are in danger of hysterics and other

forms of nervous breakdown when catas-

trophies do occur as permitted by the Provi-

dence of God. 2) Their excessive worry leads

to downright interference with the lives of

others, as when mothers interfere with their

sons’ and daughters’ vocations, whether to



the religious or to the married state. 3) This

worry is directly responsible for the “spoil-

ing” of many a child— who never learns
to take care of himself because a doting

parent never permitted him to carry a single

responsibility alone.

Perhaps few worries are less frequently

or adequately analyzed by those suffering

from them than that of over-anxious love.

If it were analyzed more often, it would not

be so common. It is due, first of all, to pride,

which makes the sufferer believe that he is

absolutely and at all times and in all places

necessary for the safety of the one in ques-

tion; that if only he can regulate and super-

vise every single moment of the loved one’s

time, there will never be any danger. Com-

bined with that pride is a disguised selfish-

ness, which, under the cloak of pure concern

for another, is really concerned about self

and the happiness which is dependent on

the loved one’s safety. It is this selfish ele-

ment in over-anxious love that leads to the

grave evils of interference with and mis-

directing the lives of others.

What is to be done? How can one afflicted
with the habit of worrying unreasonably

about the safety or happiness of others de-

velop a more reasonable attitude? Only by

applying the proper remedies to the causes

that underlie it. Such a one, instead of be-

lieving he or she alone is capable of properly

protecting the loved one, present or absent,

must learn to believe in the ability of that

loved one to take care of Jiimself for all

ordinary circumstances, and in the Provi-

dence of God to exercise its loving care in

18



all circumstances for which neither lover

or loved one are prepared. This last is ex-

tremely important, because almost the

essence of over-anxious love is to mistrust

the Providence of God. Supplying this defect

will fortify the soul against hours of futile

worry, and against anything like hysterics

when God does permit something untoward

to happen. The word “adieu,” which may

be translated “I leave you in the hands of

God,” represents the tranquil attitude one

should seek in parting for a short or a long

time from one greatly loved.

If there is selfishness in execessive worry

over others, i.e., the fear of losing the

happiness that their presence brings, that

should be tempered by meditation on the

truth that God is the first owner of every

human being, that He gives each one tasks

to be fulfilled that no human love should

dare to interfere with. If He gives evident

signs of a particular vocation to a youth,

and a mother or father unreasonably inter-

poses, the latter will usually find that they

have not only disrupted God’s plans, but

have sacrificed the real happiness of their

children for their own. And that is selfish-

ness that has far-reaching effects; not the

least of which will be mounting worry in

later years.

VI. Jealousy

A third cause of worry due to a wrong
attitude towards others is jealousy. None

takes a more terrific toll of its victims; none

leads to greater upset and catastrophe in

human lives.



Jealousy is a vice through which a man

permits himself to suffer unrest, agitation,

anguish over the good fortune of others

because he sees in that some loss to himself.

There may be a foundation for jealousy in

the sense that another’s good fortune is de-

priving a man of some good, although that

does not constitute an apology or excuse for

it. And jealousy may be without foundation,

or fostered on purely imaginary grounds.

Jealousy on imaginary grounds usually min-

gles its fatal power with that which has

begun with some slight but real wrong. How

far jealousy even on imaginary grounds can

carry a man from normalcy has been

supremely depicted in Shakespeare’s tragedy

of Othello, the Moor.

Jealousy can cause worry and agitation in

trivial matters as well as important. Anyone

who has anything to do with organizations

of individuals has almost surely had experi-

ence of petty jealousies among the members.

One who thought himself or herself cut out

for certain work is passed over for another;

acute suffering sets in; gives rise to whisper-

ing campaigns and schemes; causes disrup-

tions and disunion; and makes not only the

sufferer, but all concerned miserable. One is

selected or appointed to office over another

who thought to have a prior right; jealousy

rages in the latter’s breast, inspires obstruc-

tionist policies, sometimes succeeds in nulli-

fying the efforts of all concerned towards

achieving some purpose. Now and then we
read in the newspapers how jealousy among

the members of a baseball or football team

makes what should be a championship team

20



give but a mediocre account of itself.

Wherever human beings are united, one or

several afflicted with the worry of jealousy

is likely to be found.

In the more important spheres, the worry

of jealousy is proportionately destructive. A
jealous husband, i.e., one who misinterprets

every kindness or conventional attention

shown to his wife as an infringement of his

rights, can torture himself into insanity and

his wife into almost any kind of crime;

jealousy among statesmen leads to the vilest

forms of venality and corruption. We are
dealing with the subject here only as a cause

of worry, but its effects are the most power-

ful indication of how it torments a soul.

To analyze jealousy is not difficult— ex-
cept for the one who has let it take possession

of his soul. Such a one should know that if

not checked, it can lead to a real mania— a
mental and moral breakdown. Its incipient

causes are to be found in an exaggerated

sense of one’s personal rights over others.

The disappointed office-seeker in an organ-

ization believes that his self-styled superior

capacities give him absolute rights over

others; whereas, as a matter of fact, he may

not be superior, and if he is, his capacities

may not be of the right kind for leadership.

The jealous husband thinks that he has

acquired rights over his wife not only in

those things that pertain to matrimony, but

over her thoughts, emotions, wishes, friends

—-everything that pertains to her. With this
exaggerated sense of his rights, the jealous

person interprets the most innocent actions

21



of others as aimed at depriving him of his

just dues; the result is anguish.

The treatment of this exaggerated sense

of right and too ready sense of injury must

be stern and uncompromising. Like the treat-

ment of almost every cause of worry, it be-

gins with the practice of humility, pro-

gresses with the attainment of greater humil-

ity, destroys the last traces of jealousy when

perfect humility has been attained. The

humility that renders jealousy null teaches a

man to remember, not only his rights, but

the salutary truth that if others knew all his

secret faults and shortcomings, they would

have a right to treat him far more shabbily

than they do. It makes him realize that the

least attention from others is more than his

due: that even that is dependent on his not

looking for more; that the only kind of love

and honor from others that can bring peace

and joy, is the kind that is earned by true

charity and humble service. Above all, the

jealous man must crush out of his mind the

thought of fancied slights and merely ap-

parent injuries. Let him do that by wishing

that he could suffer some real injury at the

hands of others, which would atone for his

real but secret faults, and urge him on to

greater nobility of soul.

VII. Scrupulosity

By far the most virulent unnecessary form

of worry that can attack a human being is

that which involves his relationship to God

and takes on some form of scrupulosity.

Because the relationship involved here is so

much more important than anything else in

22



human life, the disturbances that may affect

it can and often do become utterly paralyz-

ing-

Scrupulosity is the generic name given to

the cause of excessive worry to be found in

fear concerning one’s relationship to God.

It is a condition in which the conscience is

unreasonably inclined to judge that actions

are sinful or have been sinful when in reality

they are not so at all; or to judge that actions

are gravely offensive to God when the

offense, if any, is of minor degree. The

scrupulous person, therefore, sees himself

as a confirmed enemy of God, in danger

constantly of being condemned to hell; and

the result is not mere anxiety, but anguish

of soul.

To analyze the state more clearly, it will

be helpful to describe the conscience and the

different states in which it may be found.

In itself, conscience is a practical judgment

of the reason showing a person what is

morally good or morally evil in the actual

circumstances of life. It is not merely a

theoretical judgment of what should be done

under certain circumstances; it is the judg-

ment that dictates to a person when the cir-

cumstances are actually at hand and an

action is about to be performed. Thus it is

conscience that tells a Catholic when he

wakes up on a Sunday morning: you must

go to Mass. It is conscience that whispers

to a person when he opens a book and finds

it to be obscene: you must put it aside. It is

conscience that cries out when a man is

aroused to violent anger: thou shalt not kill.

Hence it is always the judgment that im-

23



mediately precedes action or omission of

action. If the action is according to the

conscience or the judgment about what is

morally good, it is a good action; if an action

is deliberately placed immediately after the

conscience has shown it to be a bad action,

then of course it is bad.

Everybody is bound to obey his conscience,

but that does not mean that the conscience

never makes a mistake. He who follows his

conscience always, never commits a sin, but

he may be doing something that objectively

is wrong. For this reason we talk about

different kinds of consciences: a true con-

science, an erroneous conscience, a perplexed

conscience. A true conscience is a correct de-
cision about what is right or wrong in a

given set of circumstances. For example, the

conscience is correct or true when it tells a

person he will do wrong if he does bodily

harm to his neighbor in a fit of anger; when

it announces that to give in to a present

temptation to impurity would be to com-

mit a sin, etc. An erroneous conscience is

one that decides a present issue incorrectly;

e.g., if my conscience were to tell me that

I am bound, on a certain Sunday morning,

to get up from bed while I am seriously

ill, and go to Mass, it would be erroneous; if

my conscience, due to faulty education, tells

me it is wrong to play cards on Sunday, it

is an erroneous conscience; I am bound to

obey my conscience, even though it may be

erroneous, but I am also bound to use the

kind of diligence I use in all serious affairs

of life to inform myself and make it easy

24



for my conscience to make correct and true

decisions.

A perplexed conscience is one which de-

cides that two actions, one of which must

be performed, are both sinful, so that sin

seems unavoidable. For example, if I am

taking care of a sick person on Sunday morn-

ing, and my conscience tells me that to leave

the person alone would be a sin, and not to

leave the person to go to Mass would be a

sin, I have a perplexed conscience. In this

state, I should remove my perplexity either

by consulting another before acting; or, if

that be impossible, I should judge which is

the lesser of the two evils and choose that;

or, if that too be impossible, I should know

that J can choose either action without sin,

because freedom of choice must be present

before there can be sin, and in this instance,

there is no freedom: one of the two actions

must be performed.

A scrupulous conscience may be described
by comparison with the foregoing defini-

tions. It is an erroneous conscience in the

sense that it decides that certain actions are

sinful that are not sinful at all. It is a per-

plexed conscience in the sense that it sees

sin in so many actions and omissions that

it places the soul in a continuous dilemma,

but without giving it any principles for escap-

ing the dilemma. It is the opposite of a lax

erroneous conscience, which decides that

there is no sin in actions that really are sinful

and which results in the absence of worry

where there should be worry. It is not to

be confused with a tender conscience, which

may be defined as one that is quickly aware

25



of the danger of even light (but real) sins

and fears them intensely. A scrupulous per-
son therefore is one who without sufficient

reasons decides that actions are evil— and
is therefore in a constant state of unwar-

ranted fear of sin.

There are different types of scrupulous

persons. Some are fearful mainly about sins

of the past; they are afraid that sins they

actually committed have not been confessed,

or not confessed properly, or not confessed

with sorrow; or they are afraid that they

have committed sins they did not know

about or have forgotten; or that motives

made certain indifferent actions sinful. Such

persons have a constant desire to confess the

past over and over again; to tell their sins in

new and different ways; to live over the past

in imagination and so try to recapture the

exact thoughts, motives, feelings, etc., that

accompanied the real or imaginary sins.

Other scrupulous persons are fearful about

the present. Usually it is one particular kind

of sin of which they are unduly afraid. Some

are afraid of sins of unkindness and hatred;

every glancing unkind or suspicious thought

is interpreted as a sin; every mention of

another’s name seems to them to be in some

way calumnious or sinful; every action they

are about to perform is poised in mid-air

while they torture themselves with thoughts

of whether it will be hurtful to someone else.

Or they may be fearful of the sin of impurity.

On the streets, at home, at work, while read-

ing or studying or recreating themselves, they

are in constant terror that things seen or

thought of momentarily might be sins. Such

26



persons too can never feel content that they

have narrated the full story of their sins to a

confessor; circumstances, motives, conditions

must all be gone into at great length and

even then doubts and worries remain.

The one thing that all scrupulous persons

have in common is an unreasonable fear of

sin, and an inability to judge correctly and

reasonably about sin. Therefore scrupulosity

is in reality an abnormal state, just as any

state in which the reason is interfered with

is abnormal. The extent of the abnormality

may be very limited; on all other subjects

except sin, such persons may be able to

think logically and correctly and clearly;

they may even be able to direct others cor-

rectly in matters pertaining to sin; only in

regard to their own sins, real or possible or

imaginary, they are in constant perplexity

and fear.

The causes of this state of mind are

various. Sometimes scrupulousity is the re-

sult of a melancholic temperament that has

not been checked in its tendencies toward

excessive self-examination and morbid analy-

* sis of its faults and weaknesses. Sometimes

it arises from ignorance accompanied by

obstinacy; sometimes from one-sided educa-

tion and instruction, in which too much

emphasis has been placed on the terrifying

elements in religion; sometimes scrup-

ulosity is a temptation of the devil or

a trial permitted by God as a means of

developing the virtues of patience and humil-

ity and obedience. Some saints tell us that

every soul that seeks perfection will be per-

mitted the trial of scrupulosity at some time

27



or another, as an effective means of purifica-

tion.

Whatever the cause of scrupulosity, it is

well to keep clearly in mind that it essen-

tially consists in an unreasonable attitude

towards sin. This means that the conscience,

which ordinarily judges reasonably about the

goodness or badness of actions to be per-

formed, is “thrown out of gear” — detached
from the sane reasoning processes that should

govern it always. It would require many

pages to describe the agonizing results of

this condition.

For the cure of scruples, two things are

absolutely necessary. The first is to recognize

the presence of scrupulosity; the second is to

submit unreservedly to the guidance and

authority of someone else.

I. It is not easy for a scrupulous person to

recognize his own scrupulosity. As a matter

of fact, the diseased conscience will try to

delude him into thinking that an admission

of scrupulosity would itself be a sin, or

would be a deliberate seeking of an excuse

for sin. For this reason, we place certain

questions here that will enable a person to

decide whether he is scrupulous or not. If a

good number of these questions must be

answered in the affirmative, then there is no

doubt that the trial of scrupulosity has been

permitted by God.

i. Do you find yourself worrying almost

constantly about the danger of committing

a certain sin, and trying to take minute and

exhaustive measures against it? For example,

do you find yourself shutting your eyes tight-

ly, almost painfully, to ward off distractions

28



at prayer? Do you shake your head or dis-

tort your features to drive away evil

thoughts? Do you avoid people just because

you are afraid you might have to hear an

unkind remark in their company?

2. Do you worry a great deal about past

encounters with temptation?

3. Do you repeat good actions because you

are afraid they were not good enough the

first time, e.g., do you repeat prayers over

and over because of distractions that seemed

to spoil them?

4. Do you find it difficult to distinguish

between venial and mortal sins? Do you

think some of your venial sins must have

been mortal because you committed them so

deliberately and consciously?

5. Do you find yourself doubting the de-

cision of a confessor about some question

you asked or some doubtful sin you con-

fessed— wanting to ask others about the
same thing?

6. Do you fear, after a sincere confession,

that you did not explain your sin clearly

enough ?

7. Do you feel that possibly the confessor

did not understand what you were trying to

tell him?

8. Do you find that there is little peace in

your soul after confession, even though you

confessed to the best of your ability?

9. Do you experience temptations to

despair— and convictions that you are the
most abandoned sinner in the world?

10. Do you experience a constant desire

to make another general confession, more

29



complete than any previous one you ever

made?

If several of these questions must in all

honesty be affirmatively answered, then you

know that you are scrupulous, and knowing

that, you have the first requirement for a

cure.

II. Once the state of scrupulosity is recog-

nized, the second step towards a cure must be

taken— that of blind, unreserved obedience
to a director. Scruples are unreasonable fears

of sin; therefore the one afflicted with them

must not trust to his own reason to overcome

the fears. So long as one’s conscience is work-

ing reasonably, one is bound to obey it,

though it be erroneous at times; but when

one’s conscience is working unreasonably,

then the reason and authority of another

must be accepted as a guide. That is why

the scrupulous person must give up trying

to reason things out for himself, and do

what he is told.

He will find, however, that this is a diffi-

cult thing to do. Strangely enough, the

greatest impediment to the cure of scruples

is the obstinacy of the sufferer. That ob-

stinacy springs fundamentally from pride,

which very naturally asserts itself in an effort

to prevent the admission that the reason is

not functioning correctly in this matter of

sin. No one likes to admit that he is acting

or thinking unreasonably, even to escape in-

tense suffering; that is why there is such a

conflict in the soul of the scrupulous person:

on the one hand, he may admit that there

is something wrong, that he is not acting

like other people, that God never intended

30



that souls should be so tortured; and on the

other he does not like to give up the inde-

pendence of his reason— consciously or un-
consciously he clings to the thought that he

himself may be able to solve all his diffi-

culties. This pride must be overcome before

obedience and submission are possible and

before there will be a cure.

Even after the scrupulous person has hum-

bled himself and decided to submit blindly

to the guidance of a director or confessor, he

will have difficulties— and for these diffi-
culties must be prepared by learning by heart

certain principles. The chief ones are these

two:

i. There will never be sin in any action

that is performed or in any omission that

is commanded by the confessor, even though

the latter were to ma\e a mistake in com-

manding or forbidding certain things. This

means, for example, if the confessor com-

mands the scrupulous person never again to

mention a certain sin in confession, he is to

be obeyed, no matter how many reasons

appear for disobeying. It means that if the

confessor commands him to receive Holy

Communion despite any thoughts or tempta-

tions that arise, he is to be obeyed. It means

that if the confessor commands him to do

certain things that seem to him to be occa-

sions of sin— he is to obey, remembering
that it cannot possibly be a sin if it has been

commanded.

II. The only subject on which the scrupu-

lous person should examine himself care-

fully is that of disobedience to the confessor.

That sin is to be the first matter he thinks

3i



of when preparing for confession; the first

sin he tells to the priest; the one sin for

which he should be most sorry and about

which he should make a new and more

determined resolve.

Apart from confesson itself and the obed-

ience it involves, the scrupulous person

should use other means of escaping from his

interior worry. Some form of work that will

occupy the faculties of body and mind—
some form of recreation that will bring for-

getfulness of other things and fatigue— some
hobby that will absorb the attention of the

mind— these things are great helps in the
restoration of balance to the scrupulous soul.

Although scrupulosity is the cause of a

violent form of worry and the cause of worse

abnormalities, the one who finds himself

thus afflicted should not let discouragement

possess him. Innumerable persons have at

some time or other in life been scrupulous

and have completely recovered; others who

are scrupulous now, can be cured completely

if they use the means available. Two words

represent the whole process of cure— or put
meaning into the advice: Don’t worry. They

are: Recognize, and Obey. Recognize your

condition as temporarily off balance on the

subject of sin— then obey the director you
have chosen. It may take time, but in time

the cure will be effected.

32