by Father John P. Cush, STD
I remember it like it was yesterday. It is a day whose memory remains with me forever. It was the day that I received my first and only detention at Cathedral Prep Seminary, Elmhurst, in 1989. As a high school junior, I was asked to “lend” my French homework to a fellow student, and I promptly obliged. Our instructor, a bright young lady, upon examination of my homework and that of my “neighbor,” quickly realized that something was amiss, and I was served a detention!
Here I was, the student council president, the head sacristan, having to stay after school in the classroom of the prefect of students. Oh, the shame. The ignominy of it all. I could barely hold my head up high as a Cathedralite. I had let down everyone — my classmates, my beloved school, the priests of Cathedral, and, above all, myself. As you could tell, I was a bit dramatic back then (I probably still am), but I really learned my lesson. In those 40 minutes in Room 303, I was on the fringes of society, I was a felon, doing “hard time.” I know it wasn’t a major thing at all, but it was for a 16-year-old. When I was blessed to teach at Cathedral for eight years, I was very careful when I gave a detention (I think from 2004-2012, I only gave three).
The epistle we proclaim this Sunday from the Letter to the Hebrews reminds us all about discipline: “My son, do not disdain the discipline of the Lord or lose heart when reproved by him; for whom the Lord loves, he disciplines; he scourges every son he acknowledges. Endure your trials as ‘discipline’; God treats you as sons. For what ‘son’ is there whom his father does not discipline? At the time, all discipline seems a cause not for joy but for pain, yet later it brings the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who are trained by it.”
Being corrected stinks. It’s awful. It’s embarrassing. No matter what age one is, no matter what state in life a person is in, no one enjoys being told that what they are doing is wrong. And yet, if we are open, attentive, reasonable, loving, and honest, we can and should learn from being disciplined.
Let’s examine the concept of discipline on the natural and the supernatural level, for the natural always leads to our understanding of the divine life on the supernatural level. On the natural level, we can examine the one who is required to correct and the one who is corrected.
My high school principal, years later, when I first began to teach at Cathedral, told me that the entire year is over in terms of classroom management by Columbus Day. By October, the students know what the teacher expects, and the teacher knows what the students expect. If the teacher does not establish themselves as firm but fair, being balanced, not being arbitrary, then that academic year more or less will be lost. It’s hard to reroute the ship in mid-course.
Teachers, parents, and employers are all required, in justice, to establish clear codes of discipline. It’s not fun, it’s not easy, but if we are to love those who have been entrusted to us, then we must, at times, discipline. It can never be cowardly or cruel, never out of vengeance or annoyance, never out of pride or hurt feelings; if an action of discipline must take place, it has to take place with two things in mind. First, the good of the individual — what message will the one who has committed the offense learn if no action is taken? Little infractions invariably lead to greater ones later, and greater harm can come to those who are never corrected when they are wrong, especially when they are young. Second, the good of the greater community — what lesson is transmitted to the greater group when those responsible look the other way and do nothing when an offense has taken place? It often can lead to others following and emulating that bad example, and it can also lead to a lack of morale, a lack of faith and trust in leadership on the part of the greater community.
This is also true when it comes to fraternal correction. Yes, it is true that nothing is as odious as fraternal correction, but it is, at times, necessary. The same rules apply, with the one having to do the fraternal correction always asking himself his intentions and using the actions of the other as a mirror, recognizing that they are not perfect either and needs to grow.
If this is true concerning discipline on the natural level, so too is it true on the supernatural level. Like a good teacher and gentle father, God takes no joy in correcting us. He does not delight in our infractions and waits to spring on us so he can “slap us down.” No, God is full of love and mercy. God’s purest nature, who God is at his essence, is Love. The concrete application of love is mercy, a lesson Pope Francis strove to teach us in this extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy. Following this logic, the correct application of mercy is justice. And justice, because of our fallen human nature, tainted by original sin, has to lovingly be applied to situations in which we are hurting ourselves in sin and participating in situations that are explicitly evil.
Just as God, Our Father, orders all things in the universe according to his eternal law, he has created all things to live in natural law. The Church, as loving mother, establishes ecclesiastical law for the growth of each member of the body of Christ and for the well-being of the Church as a whole. The discipline of the Church concerning such things as the sacraments is not meant to be burdensome, but is meant to help people of God grow in holiness, truth, and integrity.
Discipline can be a tough thing, both to receive and to give. However, each of us at various points in our lives is called to receive it and give it, and, usually, it is for our own good. In the case of the discipline of the Lord, it is always for our good, our ultimate good, namely, our salvation. It’s what makes us beloved sons and daughters.
May we learn to trust our loving Father in heaven and our mother, the Church, in their efforts to discipline us as their children.
Father John P. Cush, STD, is professor of fundamental and dogmatic theology at St. Joseph’s Seminary and College (Dunwoodie), Yonkers, New York.