There are certain words that evoke concern, anxiety, fear—and perhaps even terror. The response is deliberate and intentional: the word describes some kind of event or experience that is, in fact, of grave concern. Examples of words that evoke a powerful response might include tsunami, earthquake, nuclear war, tornado, flood, and so on. Each of these words summarizes an event that is potentially destructive and, in some cases, catastrophic. Each of these words means exactly what it describes; there is little or no room for interpretation or debate. An earthquake is an earthquake, no matter what we might think or feel about it. And, frankly, an earthquake does not care what we think: it is what it is.
There are also big, scary words in all religious traditions and practices. These words also can cause us to feel concern, anxiety, fear, or perhaps, in some instances, terror. Examples of big religious words, all of which are reflective of complex content, include eternal damnation, hell, sacrilege, blasphemy, mortal sin, and the like. Religious language is not necessarily descriptive of events; more often, religious language is reflective of a complex mix of content, including scriptural interpretation, theological reflection, doctrinal development, religious experience, and, often, mystical insight.
In addition to their complexity, big and scary religious words are fundamentally dependent on personal, cultural, and historical interpretation. Unlike a measurable moment in time, as referenced in the first examples, religious words are words used to describe a mystery, rather than a specific event or experience. This is a crucial and necessary distinction. The root meaning of each of these words is anchored in mystery, circumstances, and context. These words are scary, yes, but they are not the same as the scary words that describe actual events that can be seen, measured, and observed.
Big and scary religious words are also dependent on religious imagination. We do not often think of imagination when discussing religion. We normally use words such as revelation or the Lord says…, or other words to that effect, but religion, and religious vocabulary, are anchored in the imagination of the human person.
That does not mean religion is fantasy, which is also an expression of imagination, but it does mean that religious concepts usually cannot be measured or recorded. We cannot, for example, send a television news crew to record “eternal damnation.” On the other hand, we can record an explosion or natural disaster.
With this assertion, I can almost hear some of our readers: “That is simply not true, Father. Referencing your example, you can, in fact, send a film crew to record the mortal sin of adultery. It is an actual event.” And my response would be, “Yes, you could send a film crew to document the physical act of perceived adultery, but the problem is that you do not know the disposition of the people engaged in the act. It might look like adultery, but is it really?” This response would no doubt provoke the additional response of “Modernism! Modernism!”—which would effectively end the conversation.
Regardless of your feelings, or even if you feel anxiety reading these words, remember that religious thought is primarily interpretative, though not exclusively so. Religious thinking, and the words religion uses to express what we might think about, depends on the interpretation of sacred texts, doctrines, symbols, rituals, and experiences. All of this illustrates that religious traditions are deeply tied to historical, cultural, and linguistic contexts. Each requires interpretation to apply meaning across time and place.
For scrupulous people, one more interpretative experience needs to be included, and that is the scrupulosity itself. The disorder routinely interprets the proposed religious meaning of something from the most rigid perspective possible. It interprets the meaning, then assigns the responsibility for thinking this way to the individual person to condemn him or her. In response to the condemnation and anxiety produced, scrupulous people will then look for a clarifying definition by engaging in what they assume will be helpful, i.e., researching the aforementioned sources and interpretations. However, what they do not understand is that each interpretation they consult is, in fact, distorted by their scrupulosity, and the relief they seek from researching “the truth” only serves to confuse them or, often, confirm their perceived condemnation and assignment of guilt. A big word is then used to describe the seriousness of their error.
Scrupulosity is complicated even more by the encounters that scrupulous people may experience with pastors, spiritual directors, or theological “experts.” If a pastor, for example, does not understand what scrupulosity really is and how it is experienced, his advice and direction will not be helpful; it could even be counterproductive. If a so-called social media “expert” is in fact championing a theology from the twelfth century, without any respect or reference to the lived experience of the Church and the people of God over the last 1,000 years, then it’s not surprising if their direction is incomplete and even harmful. If a spiritual director is not committed to the orthodox and moral teaching tradition of the Church, his or her direction will be of limited use.
Big and scary religious words and concepts do not need to be big and scary. If you take the time to understand the complex content represented by the word that initially scares you, you will benefit from the effort. A good spiritual director or regular confessor can be invaluable.