Twelve years ago this month, I taught my first theology class at an all-girls high school. Fresh out of graduate school, I could boast of only a few hours of undergraduate lecturing and grading as preparatory experience.
While I was confident in the material I was to present, one of the most surprising challenges I faced was classroom management. Single-sex education can bring out the best in young women, including fostering self-confidence. But it can also be a breeding ground for certain vices, gossip chief among them.
In an era before texting, students would pass notes to one another that often included snide remarks about fellow classmates or details of some other drama.
The only deterrent I could think of was to tell the class that if I caught them passing notes, I would read them out loud. I hoped to tap into the universally terrible experience of having the subject of one’s gossip learn what was said about her and who said it.
Shortly thereafter, a student passed a note, which I promptly confiscated and read to the class. “Miss Italiano is going to read this note out loud,” it said. In the end, though, no more notes were passed that semester.
I have been thinking about that episode in light of Pope Francis’ recent remarks about gossip. In his Angelus address on Sept. 6, the pontiff warned the crowd against gossip, which he said is “a plague more awful than COVID.”
Pope Francis has been known to use hyperbolic turns of phrase. But he’s used equally strong language to speak of gossip before.
In a homily during the first year of his pontificate, Pope Francis said that a Christian who gossips is a murderer: “A Christian murderer … it’s not me saying this, it’s the Lord. And there is no place for nuances. If you speak ill of your brother, you kill your brother. And every time we do this, we are imitating that gesture of Cain, the first murderer in history.”
In still another address he likened it to a type of terrorism, in which the person gossiping “throws a bomb and leaves.”
While the nature of gossip — what it is and how it hurts the one doing it as well as the subject — hasn’t essentially changed over time, I would argue our technological revolution has anesthetized people to its sting.
What I had used as a deterrent in my classroom — the fear of being discovered — is now encouraged and rewarded by social media platforms. The more salacious the post, the more likely it is to garner attention.
Gossip may be shared between two people, let’s say by a tweet and reply or a Facebook post on another person’s wall, but it is shared with the knowledge that both parties’ followers will see it. What is most pernicious is that it’s often shared not in spite of that knowledge but because of it.
Yet some of the most nefarious online gossip is spread on Catholic keyboards. Though online commentators are often motivated by a desire to correct a false witness, a fundamental Catholic moral principle is that the ends can never justify the means.
It is this behavior by Christians that Pope Francis condemned in his recent Angelus. Gossip undermines the communion of the church, which should be the goal of all fraternal correction. He reminded the faithful that it is the devil who sows discord and division.
Perhaps we Catholics might pause a few minutes before we post something online and ask ourselves, “What profit will it be for me to gain a few retweets and likes but to lose my soul?”
The 17- and 18-year-olds whom I taught were able to learn that lesson. I hope that adult men and women can, too.
Italiano Ureneck is a communications consultant and a columnist for Catholic News Service.