the catholic

the catholic lives inside of my gut. the catholic feels guilty for the most trivial or even imagined offenses against propriety and ethics. actually, the catholic is an ethics genius — is always speculating about what may be wrong, that other people don’t consider to be wrong.

wrong, that is sinful. the catholic in me is avoiding sins that nobody else knows exist. sins of thought. sins of omission. white lies.

when i have violated my own private code of ethics, the catholic troubles me about it to no end. i feel uneasy, even unwell.

i must confess. the catharsis of the catholic is confession. confession to god is not enough. confession to close friends is not enough. the only confessional that will purge me is the public confessional.

the catholic has taught me about the power of destroying walls. the only way to live in the light is to destroy the inside — to live outside; there is only outside. lying comes from separation and division. i have a secret and you do not know it. the secret is my shame. so i only show you my dignity.

the catholic has become a neo-catholic. the catholic embraces the coming of the surveillance state, because it will be impossible to lie. the catholic wants a brain-machine interface, so that it will be possible to fully communicate — as half-communication is a form of a lie.

the catholic is nearly taoist now. everything wants to be one. everything wants to be understood in its absolute context, and united. anything taken out of context is a form of a lie. these are lies through no fault of the teller or analyzer. but all models are lies. all maps are lies. the lie is inherent in the reduction.

insecure, the catholic admires the holiness and accomplishment of all those high above. the catholic naturally feels comfortable in a feudal society, with a hierarchy far, far above him — at a distance so high, the venerable fathers and mothers may be living saints. the catholic in me is jealous of my peers, and competes with them — but as soon as they seem to be winning, i suddenly shrink, and i surrender. “i knew it”, my gut says, they are my superiors, holy and enlightened — blessed by the divine order of things; and i am an unworthy sinner, cursed to struggle.

the catholic gives me the strength to share. the only way to tame the madness of the guilt and the insecurity is to either work harder, or to ask the catholic one simple question:

what is the true sin?

most sins are illusions. and to confess a false sin is itself a sin, is it not? i am guilty of false guilty. my insecurity is a worship of man.

the true sin is to not seek the truth.

so the catholic becomes tielhard de chardin.