As we've discussed various distinctions between the soul's shadows and true evil on another thread, I wanted to explore another angle for this. We could begin by noting how the evidence for one or the other is in the fruit born within the person and evident in behavior. Are we more tolerant or patient when there's no reward for it or the person is a stranger and not on our list of favorites, aware of our own imperfections (also aware of the difference between toxic shame and moral shame), able in moments to take delight (often comes as a surprise!) in the happiness of others for their own sake (although unable to fabricate these under our own power), more receptive to being loved and taught and criticized, humbled (not just humiliated) by our selfishness, able to laugh at these foibles in a way that leaves us feeling more ordinary and connected to our neighbors, able to tolerate and receive being exposed for an inward pain that when faced leaves us undone from pretentious claims of virtue or growth?

There are many other examples which others can think of. And as I write this there is the sense of how so much of this possibility of virtue depends not only mainly on Grace, but on an imperfect but adequate foundation of human development. Most of what I listed above as tentative signs of virtue would be involved in some form or another in the parent-child interaction. To accept imperfection, and know the human loves as necessary but insufficient for spiritual growth, there must be readiness born of those earlier interactions; otherwise the entire prospect of spiritual growth can become a mutagenic project full of sick and shallow piety.

We can probably agree that genuine altruism is possible, and able to survive the reductionistic explanations. In our world of comforts we probably don't see it often or at all, or not of heroic proportions, since we aren't called to its depth. But in horrible conditions, it seems to appear where total ruin of the soul is most likely. The possession of souls by evil in the Jewish Holocaust wasn't without these merciful exceptions. Not in everyone, but somebody answers the call of the soul's Divine Source, whether vested to a religious creed or not. And others are reported to notice, or the stories would never be told. Whether it is a rescuer hiding others at their own peril, or a starving prisoner of war sharing some crumbs of bread with one who is dying, there seems to be something awake in the heart that makes living well, or virtuously, as or more important than survival and the callouse but understandable behaivor that would entail.

Here's a link to a story of a man who was the recipient of such altruistic care when he was a boy:

www.yesmagazine.org/article.asp?ID=482


So altruism and evil in human behavior seem to arise together in their most glaring forms. Where evil threatens in the most obvious way, perhaps God's loving power is also nearest. And in the soul's being inspired to Grace with such courage and care for the dignity of another person we see how the longing to give and receive love is stronger than our desire to hurt one another, even though the latter is more often the case. This is at least a paradox, but I say it in this way because evil never or seldom seems to accomplish its complete purpose, which one assumes to be absolute corruption of the soul. Somewhere in the corrupted soul is the longing to give and receive love (the image of God?) calloused over with the wound of terrible fear - fear of the vulnerability needed to receive love being intolerably painful, I would guess. And so as Fallen creatures, we are better described as imperfectly good rather than as depraved, even if distorted beyond recognition, but not the source of our goodness, and therfore not able to unfold complete goodness of our own accord. The character alteration of a saint may be beyond imagining. I'd rather not know all that I have to give up, as cheap as it is compared to union with God. Partial goodness wounds us, whereas partial evil lead can lead us to numbness.

And this may be the weakness and deceit of Satan, as evil isn't an absolute, but a privation of goodness. Where we become cruel we remain burdened by our actions, or even our thoughts to harm, at times. We remain incomplete and troubled, as evil can only subtract by distortion of God's creation. But the horror of it seems to be in just how distorted His creation can become living outside his continual infusion of Grace. And so we're stuck as Paul describes, knowing a much greater good we're called to but fail to embody.

And so it seems that while evil is merely a privation of goodness, its distortion is terrible because of the preciousness it nearly ruins. A sign of possession of this evil may be its banality, which is the title of Hannah Arendt's book describing the trial of Adolph Eichmann. Whereas the sinister behavior of the SS was more obviously evil, their calm demeanor decades later during trial, in having to live as half-alive, is just as shocking. Surely the terror they inflicted on others lives in them and can't be touched without complete madness.

And if you can stand it, here's a link to a video recording of an SS officer recounting his memories of a death camp. You can here him remark as to the horrors of it, and his sadness, but his affect hardly if ever registers what he feels; it is sad to think how such a person lives, but many of us could have gone that way at some point in our lives if the social conditions had existed. I could only get through three of the seven video clips; it reminded me of walking through the Dachau camp nearly thirty years ago as a student, where you were haunted by more than you can possibly feel; it's like your conscience can't make a sane and felt response to such atrocity and evil that came through fellow human beings.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=-NpF3jGmKOM

Sorry this thread is so depressing, but it shows how unhealed human pain can be a fertile ground for evil to take root. But in that context there are the encouragements to altruism in those who through Grace (recognized as such or not) perhaps in some way opened beyond the fear of death. Each of us can only wonder what we'd do . . . and probably never know. That's a troubling inspiration for me.

This message has been edited. Last edited by: w.c.,

Yes, indeed, w.c. Many times through the years -- especially in listening to an addict present his/her 5th Step -- I've thought to myself that I could just as easily be sitting in the chair they were had the circumstances of my life been different. One of the positive benefits of postmodern critiques has been to emphasize the systemic or corporate nature of evil, especially in contrast to the strong emphasis on individual morality in premodernity and modernity. Nazism is a clear example of an evil system, and see how many individuals became corrupted.

quote:

Somewhere in the corrupted soul is the longing to give and receive love (the image of God?) calloused over with the wound of terrible fear - fear of the vulnerability needed to receive love being intolerably painful, I would guess. And so as Fallen creatures, we are better described as imperfectly good rather than as depraved, even if distorted beyond recognition, but not the source of our goodness, and therfore not able to unfold complete goodness of our own accord.

That's very well said, and resonates strongly with the traditional Catholic understanding of original sin.

Your reflection on altruism reminded me of Viktor Frankl's experience in the concentration camps, where, as you noted, prisoners in sorry shape could be found willing to help others who were even more miserable. Interestingly, he concluded that those who could find meaning in suffering through such service or some kind of hope had a stronger grip on their mental health than those who did not, as evidenced, especially, on how their lives went after the camps were liberated.

Phil and others:

I can certainly see far more likeness in myself to the SS officer than to descriptions of saints, whom we could say are the true altruists, or as much as humans in the likeness of Christ can be transformed into in this life. In saints, not perfect themselves, we'd expect to see, in existential moments, love holding together and even burning more brightly where most of the rest of us would turn surly, moody, defensive, impatient, even cruel. It's almost funny how I can fall into the habit of equating inner comfort, or inflections of goodness, with sanctity. Rather embarrassing!! We're all comfort-seekers, no doubt, but the deepest, graced love won't be found there.

As I told bdb on another thread, all the years of Focusing have shown me very clearly that the very best of human supports for the soul's presence in dealing compassionately with wounded parts never, ever results in true wholeness. After a while, the "process of healing" begins to sour to itself, in a certain way, where I realized (more than once) "coming to the end of myself" was really the most important experience. It was kind of the end of seeking, where grace can take over, and then we see most of what God does has to happen outside our awareness and experiences or we'd meddle in his business for sure. But thankfully we can't really meddle in areas beyond our abilities, anyway.

I just finished reading C.S. Lewis' "The Four Loves" for the second time. Boy, revisiting him is humbling, embarrassing. There is so much room for deceit in "spiritual growth," and it all shows how dependent we are, fundamentally, on God's inexplicable designs within the soul. Lewis understands the natural or human loves to be designed for redemptive transformation, but not according to their own devices, and therefore never able to offer us real wisdom leading to sanctity.

I'll post some excerpts from this book later. And I'll probably include some reflections on his other works, like "The Problem of Pain," "The Screwtape Letters (Shasha, I bet you'd like that one if you haven't read it!)," and elsewhere.