One of the huge problems in today’s dark, fallen world is the toxic spiritual poison of “psychology”. The entire point of “psychology” is to deny the reality of and guilt imparted by sin. Psychology is the dark art of finding an excuse for every sin under the sun. EVERYTHING has an excuse, because if there is an excuse, then there is no sin. Remember how the Uvalde demoniac’s mother was quoted the next day as saying, “Don’t judge my son. I’m sure he had his reasons.” He had an “excuse”. Riiiiiight.
Here’s what we aren’t allowed to say, but St. Philip said it over 400 years ago: “depression” – a modern term invented by “psychology”, is really just excessive sadness rooted in the deadliest of sins: PRIDE. Humble people are happy, and are sad only when it is situationally and affectively appropriate. When Lazarus died, Jesus wept.
Prideful people tend strongly toward “depression”. Look at the post-Christian west, its culture, and the use of “anti-depressants”, both prescription, illegal, and things like alcohol. Prescription anti-depressants are just tarted-up stimulants, like cocaine (an upper), and alcohol (a mood-enhancing downer). SSRI’s and Benzodiazepines change brain chemistry, as does cocaine, as does alcohol. But it’s all just a way of dodging the problem: THE SIN OF PRIDE.
Look at how many sex perverts are drugged and boozed to the gills … and eventually commit suicide. It’s no coincidence that as so-called “pride” in sodomy and transvestitism goes parabolic, so does the “depression” and suicide among the self-appellated “Out-and-Proud”.
Here’s the letter, just over the transom. Fantastic.
Let’s stop calling it “depression” and call it what it is: “prideful excessive sadness.”
St. Philip Neri, Apostle of Joy, pray for us!
Hi Ann and Supernerd,
I enjoyed your podcast. I ran across this quote this morning at The Thinking Housewife and it reminded me of Naomi Judd:
“Excessive sadness seldom springs from any other source than pride.”
— St. Philip Neri
My take on these women who surgically tinker with their appearance is that most of them were very beautiful “in the day”, and have so wrapped their identity up in their appearance that they cannot accept the inevitable “ravages of age”. We see this over and over, with wealthy men and women in the “entertainment” industry. I have seen everyday women, very pretty when young, having great difficulty accepting age gracefully, letting go of what is ephemeral and gone, and taking hold of what is Real.
I have come to understand that the cliche of the old person who finds God is not so much fear of death, as it is being stripped of external distractions and trappings that allow us to ignore the time ticking by. Family and friends often do not want to risk upsetting these people and will feed into their fruitless pursuits of youth/surgical improvement, thinking it is therapeutic, a magic bullet that helps them “feel better about themselves”.