So many of those whom the Church has lauded for centuries as saints are those who practiced assiduously the art (?!) of becoming less–of not being fully human–in the apparent belief that doing so would make them more fully divine! There is certainly a sad (often cruel) irony herein, given how much effort the Church put into crafting the orthodox dogma that Jesus Christ was simultaneously fully human and fully divine. One might hope that followers of Jesus Christ would, perhaps, opt to be as fully human and as fully divine as possible, instead of seeing it as an either/or in their lives!

Alas, the saint for today was one of those who believed that the best way to be godly was to be as un-human as possible. To begin with, Clare of Monte Falco was, unsurprisingly, a virgin. So no “fully human” sexuality for her. Second, consider this one example of virtue for which Clare is lauded, via Butler:

If she spoke any word which seemed superfluous, she condemned herself to the task of reciting one hundred Our Fathers. [emphasis added]

Let’s set aside the seeming superfluity of words in the repetition of 100 Our Fathers as self-punishment for speaking even a single word more than the absolute minimum necessary. That’s too obvious a target. Instead–consider how miserable a life it must be to feel the compulsion to constantly monitor each and every single word you utter. Note: Butler doesn’t tell us that Clare would recite devotional prayers whenever she found herself falling into gossip, or lying, or speaking spitefully or disrespectfully. Rather, he offers up Clare’s paranoia over ever using so much as an unnecessary prepositional phrase! And he calls this “saintly”! Clare lived with a metaphoric verbal chastity belt, to accompany her physical virginity.

I am angry about that Clare ever internalized such nonsense that she would or could be offensive to God by engaging freely in conversation. I know what it is like to stifle my own self-expression, believing it would somehow make me holier. And I know that it is a wretched and damnable way to live.

Clare’s life is a cautionary tale. Read the Gospels as they are, and see in Jesus someone who really really likes to talk! He parties! He strikes up acquaintances all over the place. He eats and drinks and sermonizes. He condemns no one for their sexuality and he lives his life fully, “letting the day’s worries be sufficient for the day.” Doing so, the Gospels also report, Jesus upset just about everyone–his mother and father (when, as a child, he was yakking away with the teachers at the Temple), the Pharisees (when Jesus was partying with prostitutes and other supposed low-lifes), and his disciples (when he was spending so dang much time interacting with women, children, and sick people).

Certainly there is a time for silence as well as for giving voice. Jesus, for example, remained silent before Herod (yet someone else he upset!). But never does one get the sense that “The Way, the Truth, and the Life” went around counting each Aramaic syllable, making sure he never said a stray word, living in fear that either speaking up or talking too much might create a bad impression. That kind of life is something far less than “fully human.”

Faith, I assert, comes in believing that we approach our full divine-ness precisely through being as much of ourselves, as fully and as consistently (mistakes and all!) as possible. This is the ultimate trust in the Creator’s wisdom in making us the way we are!