Liturgical Suspicion and Thoughtless Words

By Peter Swindal ( bio - articles ) | Jun 05, 2026

“Judge not,” our Lord Jesus Christ says, “or you will be judged” (Mt 7:1).

St. Augustine writes: “In this passage, we are taught that in the case of those actions respecting which it is doubtful with what intention they are done, we are to put the better construction on them” (De Sermoni Domini in Monte, Bk. II, Ch. XVIII).

This is why I was alarmed when I read this opening line in Stephen G. Adubato’s article “Performative piety: why liturgy is not a place for self-expression” in America Magazine:

It’s a common sight: A young person shifts from the Communion line leading to the eucharistic minister to the one leading to the priest. He then drops to his knees and sticks out his tongue for the priest to place the host on it. I roll my eyes as he walks reverently back to his pew, thinking Geez, he must think he’s so much holier than the rest of us!

St. Thomas Aquinas built on St. Augustine’s interpretation of Christ’s words and systematized it in his account of suspicion. Defining suspicion as “evil thinking based on slight indications,” St. Thomas states that it is sinful to ascribe malice without cause. Therefore, the inclination towards malicious interpretation of slight indications is a temptation to sin (ST II-II q. 60 a. 3 c.).

Adubato’s opening account would therefore be materially sinful under St. Thomas’ framework, because it ascribes prideful intentions to an action that could easily occur without them.

It gets significantly worse, however. Adubato admits himself at the end of his piece that “not all people who drop to their knees to receive Communion during a Novus Ordo Mass or who value apologetics are trying to be holier than thou.” Therefore, not only does he make the suspicious judgment, but he also admits that he should not make it—while nonetheless including it at the beginning of his piece and using its sentiment as the basis of a broader argument.

Adubato does not even seem to be able to make up his mind about whether or not the judgment is right or wrong. He says that “part of my quickness to assume that their intentions are less than pure is because I used to be just like them.” He follows this by detailing how much of his former intense piety was motivated by spiritual pride, and uses this to make the overall argument that one should not stand out from others during the liturgy.

It is important to be very clear about what the piece is therefore doing, philosophically speaking, and what Scripture says about it.

First and foremost, recounting one’s former spiritual pride rationalizes the sinful suspicion with what appears to be sufficient evidence, but is not actually evidence at all. One’s own past negative intentions during an externally neutral or good action can by no means be used as a basis to say that the external actions necessarily entail negative intentions. As we have seen, Adubato admits this, but includes both the judgment and its justification as part of a persuasive argument anyway.

This is a very subtle but highly destructive error that must be named precisely and carefully. The article begins with an account of a sin. The sin is named and seemingly condemned, but the sentiment that arises in the sin is nonetheless used as the basis for a broader argument. Specifically, Adubato’s account of his own spiritual pride supports the argument that one should not stand out from others in the liturgy. That broader argument, which is not the focus of this piece, could be made without recourse to this suspicious judgment. Therefore, using the judgment rhetorically implies that the sentiment of the suspicious judgment is licit, whereas its materially sinful expression is somehow accidental and not a necessary part of the sentiment.

This is quite simply inadmissible, since as St. Thomas states, the sensitive appetite follows sensitive apprehension (ST I q. 81 a. 1 c). What this means is that emotions or passions express a cognitive belief (which can be either true or false). A simple example is getting angry with someone who cuts in line. In this case, anger would be an expression of the true belief that an injustice was committed. Original sin means that not all of the feelings we have express true beliefs, because judgments are made not entirely by our intellect but also by our flesh (the irascible appetite, dealing with anger, and concupiscible appetite, dealing with desire). Even if they are false, emotions always express something, and they cannot be separated from this expression.

Thus, a key part of growing in the spiritual life is to examine what our emotions are expressing, and to resist them if they are expressing something irrational or sinful. St. Thomas says that we ought to govern our appetites like a king governs subjects who resist the king, but the king still has the final say (ibid, a. 3, ad.).

Funnily enough, Adubato contradicts this directly when he writes that “as much as I try to stave off my judgment of young traditional Catholics who very outwardly engage in acts of intense devotion, I can’t help but find myself aggravated.” In fact, Adubato can and must stop himself from becoming aggravated insofar as the aggravation stems from a suspicious judgment. To believe otherwise is to despair about our ability to avoid sinning with God’s grace.

Jesus Christ extended the prohibition on murder and taught that “every one who is angry with his brother shall be liable to judgment.” (Mt 5:22). This means that even indulging in disordered anger is the same category of sin as murder and will be punished as such.

Christ also taught us: “If your right hand causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away” (Mt 5:30). This means that we must subordinate absolutely everything towards avoiding sin.

Christ finally taught us: “On the day of judgment men will render account for every careless word they utter” (Mt 12:36). This means that we ought to watch our words very carefully, because no matter how little thought we put into saying something, we will be judged by God for our words. It also means that one may never as say something sinful or untrue for a higher cause.

This piece has not dealt with Adubato’s broader argument regarding standing out in the liturgy. This argument is not necessarily tainted by suspicion and will be examined later. For now, however, readers ought to ask themselves: can an article making rhetorical use of a sinfully suspicious judgment be trusted to prescribe proper moral behavior in liturgy?

I would reckon the answer is no.