Discipline and Punish

I had an interesting conversation today that made me think about some of the more extreme Lenten practices that are out there, and what they actually mean, both symbolically and on an individual level. In the ‘literature,’ such practices are often called ‘mortifications.’ Most commonly, these are associated with the body; however, it’s important to note that non-bodily mortifications can actually be more challenging since they require constant inner scrutiny.

What obviously springs to mind is fasting. You can fast from certain food items or certain pleasures that you enjoy. You can fast from certain states of mind: for example, fast from anger or frustration or jealousy. Which of these do you think is actually harder? Fasting can also include a moderate – or drastic – limitation of the amount of food you consume, either over an extended period of time or within a strictly limited timeframe. The definition of fasting I grew up with is that of consuming less than two normal-sized meals a day, customarily eating one normal meal and two other snacks that don’t add up to a meal. This is actually what the Roman Catholic Church defines as fasting. Many people find this a little mild. You can make up other rules instead, some of which work better than others if you intend to practice them for an extended period. You could decide to not eat snacks in between meals; you could decide to only eat bread and water; you could decide to eat once a day; you could decide to eat nothing at all. If you’re Saint Catherine of Sienna, you could decide to live off of nothing but Eucharist – though it should be noted this is a distinct form of grace (and that she died at the age of 33). Many Catholic Saints have engaged in such practices, which are sometimes grouped together under the title of holy anorexia, itself connected with mysticism.

The question is, when is this fasting okay? Certainly, anything taken too far, especially when it concerns the body, should be regarded as an indulgence, a kind of pride. A practical rule to follow might be that if people notice you’re fasting, you’re not doing it right. If you’ve lost so much weight that it can’t be hidden, or if people notice they suddenly never see you eating anything, then your fasting is no longer private. I think that, at that point, it ceases to be an effective mortification. Of course, there are always tricks: I suppose you could wear baggy sweaters. Of course, if no one ever sees you eat anyway, you’ll be able to get away with a hell of a lot more because your behavior won’t seem at all aberrant. Just try not to pass out.

Some other forms of mortification have been ‘popularized’ by Dan Brown’s DaVinci Code. One of these is the discipline: that is, the tool of self-flagellation. It should be noted that the extremes to which Silas goes are actually quite discouraged – the penance is supposed to be essentially symbolic. With a little pain, of course. As a general rule, you’re not supposed to draw blood. Since what you’re doing will also be obvious if anyone sees your back covered with lash marks, you should probably make sure they don’t. Again, the public display of your devotional practices pretty much defeats the purpose. The modern discipline also looks nothing like Silas’.

Also captured in this memorable film is the use of the cilice. Originally, this meant hair-shirt, but now people apply it to anything that functions the same way. The hair-shirt has the advantage of being concealable under clothing: the amount of time you spend wearing it will also determine whether or not you’re experiencing discomfort or prolonged agony. Moderation, as always, is key. The cilice shown in the movie is what Silas straps around his thigh. This is also not what a modern cilice looks like. It is usually a two or three-ringed metal chain with little spikes, and is worn spikes-down around the upper thigh / groin. It, too, is not supposed to draw blood, and it is not meant to be worn continuously. However, the caveat here is that it does draw blood because it leaves little prick marks, and that these marks are pretty much permanent if you use the thing on a regular basis.

Purchasing a cilice or discipline may arouse suspicion if anyone has a tendency to go through your mail (or if they let you use their credit card and then get an itemized bill). You can get basically the same effect for free using household objects, which I won’t get into because it may or may not be disturbing. The advantage of this, of course, is that you can find things that are uncomfortable or hurt and that don’t have spikes on them, and that a little creativity will enable you to pass your penance off as something else, since the objects are not in themselves obviously penitential.

More moderate versions of corporeal mortification can include sleeping on the floor, taking cold showers, immediately jumping out of bed in the morning. More extreme versions will co-opt other types of behavior. For example, cutting has sometimes been suggested, though in my experience this happens rarely. This is supposed to be useful both because it is extremely controlled and highly effective; also, no one will assume that you’re doing penance if they do notice. They will think you’re a little crazy, but that’s about as far as the speculation goes.

NONE of these activities, with the exception of moderate fasting, should EVER be undertaken without the close supervision of a confessor or director. Deciding to do this on your own is an invitation to disaster since, let’s face it, the people who do this voluntarily are the same people who are prone to going overboard in the first place. Anyone who is doing these things, even under direction, should be aware that a small subgroup of the population will react by developing a sort of pleasurable relationship to the pain – that is, the behavior will have a tendency to escalate as they seek to get the same ‘high’ they got the first time. It’s essentially an addiction to endorphins specifically tied into the experience of intense sensation, in this case, pain. Since increasing your penance should not be done without explicit permission, it is crucial to find a confessor who is experienced enough to be able to pick these people out and say NO. It is also crucial, if you decide to follow this path, that you have the capacity to obey your confessor if she or he tells you to stop the practice altogether.

There are non-corporeal mortifications as well: the possibilities for these are essentially endless, and easily concealed. All in all, this makes them a far better option.

What is the point of all this supposed to be, anyway? The rational behind corporeal mortification has several components. First, it exerts control over the body and is intended to instill discipline. Secondly, consciously subverting bodily desires – to avoid pain or not be hungry, for example – is meant to curb all bodily lusts, even those that seem unrelated. For people who don’t belong to a certain religious club which shall remain nameless, these penances are usually suggested because they are suffering from incurable and unwanted desires. Or to avoid having them. Most contentiously, these practices are sometimes suggested to victims of rape, the basis for which is a flawed reading of Augustine: the idea is that any sexual activity, even involuntary, awakens desires in the body that it is impossible to turn off, because the flesh itself is irrevocably changed regardless of what the will has been doing. In an effort to prevent these desires from arising, or to dampen their potential as-yet-unseen effects, some (stupid) advisors will suggest mortification as a ‘cure.’ Thirdly, it is a form of suffering with Christ.

The person I was talking to today made the excellent point that self-harm isn’t really a valid form of devotion, since it is already a kind of indulgence. To a certain degree, I concur. However, I think that motivation and extent are important factors.

Discipline I would define as a practice geared toward reorienting your relationship with God by curbing excessive desires through fasting, by chastising the body as a form of control. The intent should never be the experience of pain itself, though the difficulty and sacrifice is designed to remind you constantly of what Jesus went through for you. If your focus is on self-control and desire to serve God in the consciousness of Jesus’ own suffering, and assuming that you are not going to extremes, I think that all of these practices are fine.

Punishment. If your motivation is self-hatred, loathing, a desire to punish your own sin, then none of these, no matter how mild, is a good idea. In the first place, it devalues your worth as a human being created in the image of God: self-love is an important aspect of one’s relationship with Jesus. In the second place, it assumes that there is something you can and should do to atone for your sin in such a way that it’s actually extirpated by your efforts, which undermines your ability to grasp Christ’s sacrifice as a free and unmerited gift. If what God actually wants is for you to suffer for your transgressions as a form of debt-repayment, I’m sure you’ll find out about it eventually. So why start now?

Forty days in the desert…how bad could it be?