87. St. Thomas More: The Arrow That Flies by Day

“What hath pride profited us?” — Wisdom 5:8

St. Thomas More spends much of Book II of A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation considering the terrors of the night. Then Anthony turns to the “arrow flying in the day” of Psalm 90. He takes it as an image of pride in the bright hour of worldly prosperity. A man rises in wealth or standing, looks down on those who were once his fellows, and forgets how quickly the day will end. More's arrow flies high, but it bears a heavy point and must come down.^1

At first this may seem remote from a Catholic living in exile. Such a person may possess little public influence and may have lost the place he once called home. More himself first applies the image to wealth and office; we should not pretend he wrote directly about our circumstances. Yet there is a smaller prosperity that can enter even a stripped and anxious life: the pleasure of believing, I see clearly while others do not. That insight may concern a real error. It may even be a grace for which one should thank God. It becomes dangerous when the gratitude turns into self-exaltation.

A soul may be right about a doctrine and wrong about its own importance. It may identify a false worship and then begin to relish speaking of the people caught in it with contempt. It may reject usurped authority and quietly make its own judgment the measure of every person and duty. The truth has not changed. The heart that handles it has begun to change.

More gives Vincent another picture. Imagine two beggars. One is taken into a rich man's house, clothed in silk, and given a purse of gold for a short time; soon he must return the gifts and leave as poor as before. If he meets his former companion while wearing the silk, would he not be foolish to think himself a different kind of creature?^1

The original point concerns wealth and rank. It also asks the reader to remember that every good he has is received. If I have kept the Faith, it is not because I made revelation true or supplied myself with grace. If I have found a teacher, a true Mass, a sound book, or a friend who warned me before I wandered farther, none of these is an ornament that makes me superior to a soul still searching. They are gifts for which I must answer.

This is not indifferentism. Truth and error are not equal; a faithful act and a false profession do not become the same because everyone is weak. More's humility does not ask us to soften a doctrinal judgment. It asks us to distinguish that judgment from a claim to know the full culpability, future repentance, or final end of the person before us. The beggar in rags may one day be clothed in glory; the one in silk may yet squander what he has been given.

More sees a danger on the other side as well. A man entrusted with good work may fear the temptation to pride so much that he abandons the work. He tells himself that withdrawing is humble, when in fact it may spare him the labor and risk that belong to his duty. Anthony does not give a simple rule to remain in every office. If a man is truly harming those he ought to serve and cannot do the work required, More counsels him to give it up. But mere fear that he might become proud is not always a reason to desert a task he can perform with God's help.^1

That distinction matters in a home. A father cannot refuse to teach, correct, and protect his children on the ground that exercising authority might make him proud. His office is received beneath Christ and exists for their good. He must examine the pride and govern it, not abandon the children to govern themselves. A mother, teacher, writer, or friend may likewise be obliged to tell a hard truth with charity. Silence is not automatically humility.

Yet none of these private duties confers ecclesiastical jurisdiction. The parent must not invent doctrine. The writer must not pose as a pastor merely because readers listen. The layman must not turn discernment of false claims into a rival Church founded upon himself. Created authority has a proper office and a boundary. To stay within that boundary is not weakness; it is obedience to the Lord who gives the duty.

More names the fruits of pride in authority: disdainful words and bearing, overlooking the poor, oppression, and cruelty. He tells the person with power to regard the beggar as his fellow and to pity those who suffer, even while keeping justice. The strength of a ruler is not measured by how little mercy he shows.^1

For this site, the warning must be applied inwardly. Hatred of heresy is necessary because falsehood wounds souls and offends God. It is not permission to hate the soul entangled in it.^3 If an argument about the true Church leaves me more eager to humiliate a mistaken person than to help him find Christ, the arrow has found a place in me. If I denounce compromise in public but excuse impatience, vanity, and untruth in my own house, I have not escaped the deception I condemn.

Charity does not call a false rite true or a heresy harmless. It tells the truth for the neighbor's sake and bears the cost of helping him understand it. It can grieve over his danger without claiming that he is beyond grace. More's imagined man in silk may stand beside the beggar rather than over him; so may the Catholic who has received light stand beside the one still trying to see.

More does not leave the reader with a command to “be humble” and no way to practice it. He counsels the person in prosperity to seek confession often, find a quiet place in the house, kneel before an image of Christ's Passion, and remember that God is present. There he should name his faults, thank God for his gifts, disclose his temptations, and ask for strength both to resist sin and to rise when he falls.^1

This is a good rule for one who must contend with error. Leave the argument for a little while. Go before the Crucified. Name the person you were tempted to despise. Thank God for whatever truth He allowed you to recognize. Ask whether you have kept it with clean hands, or used it to win a victory for yourself. If sacramental confession is truly available, bring the pride there without disguising it as zeal. Then return to the duty that is yours—neither fleeing it in false humility nor performing it as though Christ depended on your superiority.

Our Lady gives a quiet measure. She received the greatest gift given to any creature, yet her canticle begins with the greatness of the Lord, not the greatness of herself. The Church, too, receives what she gives; she does not manufacture the truth by admiring her own fidelity. Her children should speak with her certainty about what God has revealed and with her humility about themselves.^2

The arrow flies in daylight, when a man may think the danger has passed. More bids him look down—not upon his neighbor, but upon his own feet, which stand only by grace. Then he may lift his eyes again to Christ and continue the good work entrusted to him.

Sources and notes

1. St. Thomas More, A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation, Book II, chapter XVI, especially the discussion beginning with “the arrow flying in the day” and continuing through Anthony's counsel on authority, the beggar, confession, and prayer. More's direct subject is pride in prosperity; the applications to readers discerning the present crisis are this chapter's own.
2. Luke 1:46–49; 1 Corinthians 10:12; Wisdom 5:8; Psalm 90:5–6. The comparison with Our Lady's humility is a Scriptural application, not an image attributed to More in this passage.
3. Fr. Frederick William Faber, C.O., The Precious Blood, chapter VI, p. 316 (1860), for the work's governing maxim concerning hatred of heresy. That maxim concerns rejection of falsehood for love of God and souls, not contempt for persons.