JUST SO YOU KNOW, LEST I BE ACCUSED OF BEING A HOLIER-THAN-THOU JERK: I find myself particularly prone to the below mentioned sin (scandal). This is largely an artifact of my personality: despite being gruff, I'm actually very eager-to-please and eager-to-help. I like to encourage people, and to help them out. The problem is, in this fallen world, that I often wind up encouraging people to sin, or assisting them in their sin, simply because my default setting is "encourage" or "help". To be honest, also, I like to be liked, and people don't often like to be told things like: "Well, I'm happy that you're happy, but I really wish it wasn't cheating on the Contracts exam that made you happy." I'm working on this, I really am, but it's hard. But then, I suppose the whole Christianity business is supposed to be hard, after a fashion. Narrow gate, and all.
The second thing you should know: I myself often (too often, alas; though ever is probably too often [be perfect as your Father is perfect, et al.]) don't receive Communion. Because (see above) I'm weak and fall into sin, and because I respect the Eucharist and fear the sin of sacrilege (eating my own destruction, and all that). I use the time to pray, to ask God's forgiveness for what I've done, and to reflect on my actions. Painful and unpleasant as it is, I actually consider those moments to be a kind of blessing, an occasion for reflecting on the nature of mortal sin, the ultimate fate of my soul, and all that metaphysical jazz. When I consider the magnitude of what I'm giving up (i.e., communion with God) and weigh it against the trivial, temporary pleasures of the sin that I took in exchange for that great good, I begin to appreciate somewhat the monumental folly of sin, which would be laughable, of course, if it weren't so deadly serious. Separation from the Eucharist is a foretaste of that final separation, that Great Divorce, and then too I think we may laugh one last, pained laugh at the insignificance at the pleasures we exchanged for the Beatific Vision before we're cast, finally, into the dark from whence we'll laugh no more.
OK, I'm getting too pseudopoetical; it's not my strength, as you've no doubt discovered. To sum up: I don't think I'm better than you; if anything, I'm worse. But I'm trying, I really am.
The second thing you should know: I myself often (too often, alas; though ever is probably too often [be perfect as your Father is perfect, et al.]) don't receive Communion. Because (see above) I'm weak and fall into sin, and because I respect the Eucharist and fear the sin of sacrilege (eating my own destruction, and all that). I use the time to pray, to ask God's forgiveness for what I've done, and to reflect on my actions. Painful and unpleasant as it is, I actually consider those moments to be a kind of blessing, an occasion for reflecting on the nature of mortal sin, the ultimate fate of my soul, and all that metaphysical jazz. When I consider the magnitude of what I'm giving up (i.e., communion with God) and weigh it against the trivial, temporary pleasures of the sin that I took in exchange for that great good, I begin to appreciate somewhat the monumental folly of sin, which would be laughable, of course, if it weren't so deadly serious. Separation from the Eucharist is a foretaste of that final separation, that Great Divorce, and then too I think we may laugh one last, pained laugh at the insignificance at the pleasures we exchanged for the Beatific Vision before we're cast, finally, into the dark from whence we'll laugh no more.
OK, I'm getting too pseudopoetical; it's not my strength, as you've no doubt discovered. To sum up: I don't think I'm better than you; if anything, I'm worse. But I'm trying, I really am.
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