I eat my lunch, big meal of the day before work, at St Paul Shrine, after mass, a Rosary, and adoration. While eating, I have lately been having wonderful discussions with the zany nervous and obsessive mother of fourteen sons and daughters, the one whose beautiful daughter and grandchildren were so special for me the other week. During work today, thoughts occurred regarding the woman I knew I wanted to post. The woman confesses continually. She is so scrupulous it makes her sick. Scrupulosity is her greatest downfall she declares. Contemplating, I determined she is wrong. Without a doubt she is scrupulous, overly concerned about the tiniest details, overthinking every situation, however her scrupulosity is turned in upon herself. Her demands are interior, focused upon her perfection. She will stammer on and on about her faults, her failings troubling her greatly. She is sincere and authentic in her self-diagnosis, absolutely not utilizing dramatics driven by false humility. Her convictions are strong, lacking no ulterior hidden motives.

Here is an imitation of words she might spout: “Ohh, I am so prideful I should be ashamed to even be speaking to you. I spend the vast majority of my time running around for my grandchildren, and all I can do is think to myself how great I am for helping my children so much. There I go and do good things, only to ruin them with my nauseating pride. I’ll be walking to my car thinking about nothing but what a great person I am. That’s how I am. Give me any reason to be prideful and sure enough I will think I am the cat’s pajamas. Instead of thanking God for all the good things in my life, when I am alone: I worry, becoming anxious and crazy, filled with fear, thinking ohh God what is the matter with me, I am not grateful for anything, all I can do is worry and find fault in the world, trying to use all my devotion to You God as a wedge, trying to ply favor from You because I am sure I give more to You than others. I even ruin all my devotion to You, God, and my attending of daily mass by allowing my efforts to make me think I am something special. I do some religious reading, only to think I am the smartest person ever to breathe. That is how I am. I must make God so angry. I am a mess when I am home alone, fretting and worrying about everything—should I do this for this child, or that for the oldest child—completely discombobulated on what to do with myself, filled with fear and anxiety. Then I realize what I am doing, thinking all these terrible unholy thoughts, which then only makes me petrified by the fact I am so scrupulous, over-thinking everything about the spiritual life. When I should be joyful, I am only a nervous wreck. That’s about the time, I start pacing around my home understanding I am pretty crazy. Ohhh no, now look at me talking crazy to you. I can’t keep my mouth shut. I talk and talk and talk. I have to seek out father and see if he will grant me a confession for being unable to tame my tongue.” Then she might grow quiet, looking helpless, painfully stricken by her faults, more than a bit crazy in appearance, unequivocally adorable to me.

I have determined her scrupulosity is rare. Others suffering from the ailment focus their insight and attention upon others, criticizing brothers and sisters, the world and the Church. Their obsessive attention to detail, their overt concern with righteousness, is used to batter people, to rattle the Church, to be politically right, or war against the secular world. Their scrupulosity garners them control, personally empowering them to rule over even the hierarchy of the Church.  Being right means everything.  Exteriorly self-righteous, they scrutinize and judge the tiniest and largest infractions of the world, creating division and judgement, seeking the end of the world, not even granting immunity to the Church. They are obedient to none, or possibly a select few honoring their scrupulosity as holiness, creating superior circles of social interacting. A dialog line came to mind, the strangest of sources and situations, a line from the movie ‘Silence of the Lambs’, when Clarise Starling defends herself from the intensely personal attack by the insane Dr. Hannibal Lecter. She says to her imprisoned irrefutably confident antagonist: You see a lot don’t you doctor. Why don’t you turn that high-powered perception at yourself and tell us what you see, or, maybe you’re afraid to.

Anyway, I just wanted to present the idea that scrupulosity can be an interior or exterior shortcoming.  My friend from St Paul Shrine, I am convinced, is unique in being so interior with her harshness, while also being so kind to the world, never saying anything negative about anyone, never for a second would she dream of criticizing the Church.  I adore the mother of fourteen.  She never fails to bring a smile to my face.  Tomorrow, I will gift her my Teresa of Avila Spanish television mini-series.  I thoroughly enjoy listening to her ramble on and on, mostly informing me about her faults. I have also noticed something slightly odd. She has beautiful brown hair, granting the pleasant impression she was an attractive woman in her younger days.