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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