I wouldn’t say sh*t: Shia LaBeouf and Jesus
An interviewer asked Shia LaBeouf, “What would you say if you met Jesus?”
He answered, “I wouldn’t say sh–t.”
His response to the question challenges the clean, comfortable Catholicism so many of us are used to.
Shia LaBeouf gave an interview after a bender he went on during Mardi Gras. He got into a fight; he got arrested.
Shia had a very public conversion to Catholicism, so many Catholics had their eyes on him. They looked down on him because he is not behaving like we (rightly) expect a converted Catholic to behave. We have certain expectations of living a life of virtue, of not engaging publicly in sin.
Many Catholics saw this bender as proof of the inauthenticity of Shia's conversion.
They thought he might have converted to Catholicism for expedience or to appear righteous. But he gave an interview that shot down that criticism.
The interviewer asked him, "What would you say if you met Jesus?"
And he said, "I wouldn't say shit. I would just kiss him. I would kiss his feet."
It was an unprepared response. You could hear his deep love for Christ, acknowledgement of his own inadequacies as a man to attain virtue, and reliance on the immense mercy of Christ.
The Spiritual Plateau
This interview reminded me of something the saints figured out that I haven't quite figured out myself.
If you look at the mansions of the spiritual life, Saint Teresa of Avila talks about seven mansions that we go through. In the first few mansions, you have this purgation of sin, this illumination of virtue, and this union with God. In the first three mansions, you are purging yourself of mortal sin.
The problem is that many people make it to the third mansion and they stop.
Saint Teresa describes these people as those who live a stable Christian life. They maybe even teach other people about the Christian life. They live a very outwardly virtuous life.
They (we) are “good Catholics.”
But the big hurdle to get over in the third mansion is this knowledge of self—this realization: "I am not done." There is a great danger for those of us who have reached this stage of the spiritual life. We think that we've finished because we've completed this first set of purgation.
But we need to persist. We need deeper humility.
The Pharisee and the Tax Collector
It also reminded me of was the parable of the Pharisee and the tax collector.
The Pharisee sits in the temple and thanks God: "Thank God that you haven't made me like this tax collector. Thank you that I am not like other men." And the tax collector merely lowers his head and says, "Lord, have mercy on me a sinner."
Many of us who turn up our noses at Shia's conversion and look at him as though he is lesser than us—or not as far along as us in the spiritual life—we should take that parable to heart.
Why was the Pharisee wrong? He is more virtuous. He doesn't struggle with these ugly sins.
He is wrong because he stopped.
That is a great sin: the prideful assumption that when you've reached a certain stage of the spiritual life, you are done.
That could be me
St Francis used to say if anyone else was given the graces that he was given, they would be a greater saint than he because of the depths of his own sin.
I want to believe that about myself. Similarly, I believe if I led Shia’s life, I would commit greater sins than he did.
That is true humility, saying that and believing it. I struggle to do that, even as I write these words.
I look at the faith of Shia and I ask myself: Would I have answered the question that way? If I was face to face with Jesus Christ, would I fall on my face and kiss him, or would I have the pride to remain standing?
I think I would have the pride to remain standing and talk to him as a peer, because I view myself as His peer.
How foolish. How stupid. How dare I look at Shia, who is just beginning to walk on the way of virtue, and judge his stumbling when I have been Catholic my whole life and still sin at all?
The Greater Responsibility
More is required of me.
My sin is greater because the expectation is greater. I've been given so much; how dare I turn away even a little bit?
It is always a danger, when talking about the Pharisee and the tax collector, that you start to judge the Pharisee.
I hope you know that is not my intention.
I want to share my reflections on Shia's comments in hopes that they can edify you as well. I offer this reflection to my readers in hopes that they find a similar challenge to the one I did.
There is hope for the Pharisee.
He can kiss Christ’s feet, too.
I asked my son once, when he was only about 8 years old, if Jesus stepped out onto the path ahead of us, what my son would ask him. I had several clever ideas ruminating, questions to ask that might get me more than just one answer from Christ. My little boy just said, "I would run up to him and hug him and say, 'Thank you!'" Talk about humbling. I won't forget. Shia's answer should bring us all back to David's Ps. 51 prayer, "Restore to me the joy of your salvation." Kiss the feet, for "How beautiful are the feet of Him who brings good news."
Beautiful post!