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From the privileges we have been considering, but
particularly from the graces of the Holy Spirit and
His divine consolations, there arises a seventh,
though no less marvelous, privilege, which is true
liberty of the soul. The Son of God brought this gift
to men; hence He is called the Redeemer, or
Deliverer, for He freed mankind from the slavery of
sin, and restored them to the true liberty of the
children of God. This is one of the greatest of God's
favors, one of the most signal benefits of the
Gospel, and one of the principal effects of the Holy
Ghost. "Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is
liberty." (2Cor. 3:17). This liberty is one of the
most magnificent rewards which God has promised to
His servants in this life: "If you continue in my
word, you shall be my disciples indeed. And you shall
know the truth, and the truth shall make you free."
To this the Jews answered, "We are the seed of
Abraham, and we have never been slaves to any man;
how sayest thou: You shall be free?" Jesus answered
them, "Amen, amen I say unto you, that whosoever
committeth sin is the servant of sin. Now the servant
abideth not in the house for ever; but the son
abideth for ever. If, therefore, the son shall make
you free, you shall be free indeed." (Jn. 8:31-37).
Our Saviour teaches us by these words that there are
two kinds of liberty. The first is the liberty of
those who are doubtless free in body, but whose souls
are enslaved by sin, as Alexander the Great, who,
though master of the world, was a slave to his own
vices. The second is that true liberty which is the
portion of those whose souls are free from the
bondage of sin, though their bodies may be held in
chains. Witness the great Apostle, whose mind,
despite his fetters, soared to Heaven, and whose
preaching and doctrine freed the world. To such a
condition we unhesitantly give the glorious name of
liberty. For the noblest part of man is the soul; in
a measure it constitutes man. The body is merely
matter vivified by the soul. Hence, only he whose
soul is at liberty is truly free, and he whose soul
is in bondage, however free his body may be,
possesses only the semblance of liberty. Now, the
sinner is in bondage under sin, the most cruel of
tyrants. The torments of Hell are but the effects of
sin; consider, then, how horrible sin itself must be.
It is to this cruel tyrant that the wicked are
enslaved, for Our Saviour tells us, "Whosoever
committeth sin is the servant of sin." (Jn. 8:34).
Nor is the sinner a slave to sin only, but to all
that incites him to sin � that is, to the world, the
devil, and the flesh with all its disorderly
appetites. These three powers are the sources of all
sin, and, therefore, are called the three enemies of
the soul, because they imprison her and surrender her
to a most pitiless master. The first two powers
make use of the flesh, as Satan made use of Eve, to
tempt and incite us to every kind of iniquity.
Therefore, the Apostle calls flesh "sin," giving the
name of the effect to the cause, for there is no evil
to which man is not incited by the flesh. (Rom.
7:25). For this reason theologians term it fomes
peccati � that is, the germ and fuel of sin; for,
like wool and oil, it serves to feed the fire of sin.
It is more commonly called sensuality, or
concupiscence, which, to speak more plainly, is our
sensual appetite. Hence, St. Basil tells us that our
desires are the principal arms with which the devil
makes war upon us; for, carried away by the
immoderate desires of the flesh, we seek to gratify
them by any means in our power, regardless of God's
law. From this disorder all sins arise. This
appetite of the flesh is one of the greatest tyrants
to whom, in the language of the Apostle, the sinner
has made himself a slave. By this we do not mean that
the sinner loses his free will, for free will is
never lost, however great the multitude of his
crimes. But sin so weakens the will, and so
strengthens the appetites of the flesh, that the
stronger naturally prevails over the weaker. What is
there more painful than the consequences of such a
victory? Man possesses a soul made to the image of
God, a mind capable of rising above creatures to the
contemplation of God; yet he despises all these
privileges and places himself in subjection to the
base appetites of a flesh corrupted by sin and
incited and directed by the devil. What can man
expect from such a guidance, or rather from such a
bondage, but innumerable falls and incomparable
misfortunes?
Our souls may be considered as consisting of two
parts, which theologians call the superior and the
inferior parts. The first is the seat of the will and
of reason, the natural light with which God endowed
us at creation. This noble and beautiful gift of
reason makes man the image of God and capable of
enjoying God, and raises him to a companionship with
the angels. The inferior part of the soul is the seat
of the sensual appetites, which have been given to us
to aid us in procuring the necessities of life and in
preserving the human race. But these appetites are
blind � they must follow the guidance of reason. They
are unfitted to command, and, therefore, like good
stewards, they should act only in obedience to their
master. Alas! How often do we see this order
reversed! How often do we behold the servant become
the master! How many men are so enslaved by their
appetites that they will outrage every law of justice
and reason to gratify the sensual desires of their
hearts! They carry their folly still further, and
make the noble faculty of reason wait upon their base
appetites and furnish them with means to attain their
unlawful desires. For when man devotes the powers of
his mind to the invention of new fashions in dress,
new pleasures in eating; when he strives to excel his
fellow men in wealth and voluptuous luxuries, does he
not turn his soul from the noble and spiritual duties
suited to her nature, and make her the slave of the
flesh? When he devotes his genius to the composition
of odes and sonnets to the object of a sinful love,
does he not debase his reason beneath this vile
passion? Seneca, though a pagan, blushed at such
degradation, saying, "I was born for nobler things
than to be a slave to ( the flesh." (Epist. 65).
Notwithstanding the folly and enormity of this
disorder, it is so common among us that we give it
little attention. As St. Bernard says, "We are
insensible to the odor of our crimes because they are
so numerous." In the country of the Moors no one
feels affronted if called black, because it is the
color of all the inhabitants. So where the vice of
drunkenness prevails no one thinks it disgraceful to
drink to excess, notwithstanding the degrading nature
of this sin. Yes, the bondage of the flesh is so
general that few realize its enormity. How complete,
therefore, is this servitude, and how great must be
the punishment reserved for one who delivers so noble
a creature as reason into the hands of so cruel a
tyrant! It is from this slavery that the Wise Man
prays to be delivered when he asks that the
inordinate desires of the flesh be taken from him,
and that he be not given over to a shameless and
foolish mind. (Cf. Ecclus. 23:6). If you would know the power of this tyranny you have
only to consider the evils it has wrought since the
beginning of the world. I will not set before you the
inventions of the poets on this subject, or the
example of their famous hero, Hercules, who, after
destroying or subduing all the monsters of the world,
was himself so enslaved by the love of an impure
woman that he abandoned his club for a distaff, and
all future feats of valor, to sit and spin among the
maidens of his haughty mistress. It is a wise
invention of the poets to show the arbitrary power
this passion exercises over its victims. Nor will I
quote from Holy Scripture the example of Solomon, the
wisest of men, enslaved by sensual affections, and so
far forgetting the true God as to build temples to
the idols of his sinful companions. But I will give
you an illustration which, alas, is not an uncommon
occurrence. Consider, for instance, all that a
married woman risks by abandoning herself to an
unlawful love. We choose this passion from among the
rest to show you the strength of the others. She
cannot but know that should her husband discover her
crime he may kill her in his anger, and thus in one
moment she will lose her reputation, her children,
her life, her soul, and all that she can desire in
this life or the next. She knows, moreover, that her
disgrace will fall upon her children, her parents,
her brothers, her sisters, and all her race; yet so
great is the strength of this passion, or rather the
power of this tyrant, that she tramples all these
considerations underfoot to obey its dictates. Was
there ever a master more cruel in his exactions? Can
you imagine a more miserable, a more absolute
servitude? Yet such is the bondage in which the
wicked live. They are seated "in darkness and the
shadow of death," says the prophet, "hungry and bound
with chains." (Ps. 106:10). What is the darkness, if
not the deplorable blindness of the wicked, who
neither know themselves nor their Maker, nor the end
for which they were created? They see not the vanity
of the things upon which they have set their hearts,
and they are insensible to the bondage in which they
live. What are the chains which bind them so
cruelly, if not the ties of their disorderly
affections? And is not this hunger which consumes
them the insatiable desire for things which they can
never obtain? Not unfrequently the gratification
of man's inordinate desires, so far from satisfying
him, only creates other more violent passions, as we
learn from the example of Amnon, the wicked son of
David, who could neither eat nor rest because of his
love for Thamar; but he no sooner obtained possession
of her than he hated her even more intensely than he
had loved her. (Cf. 2Kg. 13:1-16). Such is the
condition of all who are enslaved by this vice. They
cease to be masters of themselves; it allows them no
rest; they can neither think nor speak of anything
else; it fills their dreams at night; and nothing,
not even the fear of God, the interests of their
souls, the loss of their honor, or life itself, can
turn them from their course or break the guilty
chains which bind them. Consider also the jealousy
and suspicions with which they are tormented, and the
dangers of body and soul which they willingly risk
for these base pleasures. Was there ever a master who
exercised such cruelty towards a slave as this tyrant
inflicts upon the heart of his victims? Hence we read
that "wine and women make wise men fall off." (Ecclus.
19:2). Most fitly are these two passions classed
together, for the vice of impurity renders a man as
little master of himself, and unfits him for the
duties of life, as completely as if robbed of the use
of his senses by wine. The great Latin poet
admirably paints the power of this passion in the
example of Dido, Queen of Carthage. She no sooner
falls in love with �neas than she abandons the care
of public affairs; the walls and fortifications of
the city are left unfinished; public works are
suspended; the youth are no longer exercised in the
noble profession of arms; the harbors are left
defenceless, and the city unprotected. Enslaved by
this tyrannical passion, Dido is unfitted for the
duties of her position; all the powers of her great
genius are concentrated upon the object of her love.
Oh! Fatal passion! Oh! Pestilential vice, destroying
families and overthrowing kingdoms! It is the poison
of souls, the death of genius, the folly of old age,
the madness of youth, and the bane of mankind. But
this is not the only vice which reduces man to
slavery. Study one who is a victim to pride or
ambition, and see how eagerly he grasps at honors,
how he makes them the end of all his actions. His
house, his servants, his table, his dress, his gait,
his bearing, his principles are all fashioned to
excite the applause of the world; his words and
actions are but baits to win admiration. If we wonder
at the folly of the Emperor Domitian, armed with a
bodkin and spending his leisure in the pursuit of
flies, how much more astonishing and pitiable it is
to see a man devote not only his leisure but a
lifetime to the pursuit of worldly vanities which
cannot but end in smoke! Behold how he enslaves
himself! He cannot do his own will; he cannot dress
to please himself; he cannot go where he chooses;
nay, many times he dares not enter a church or
converse with virtuous souls, lest his master, the
world, should ridicule him. To satisfy his
ambition he imposes upon himself innumerable
privations; he lives above his income; he squanders
his means; he robs his children of their inheritance,
and leaves them only the burden of his debts and the
evil example of his follies. What punishment is more
fitting for such madness than that which we are told
a certain king inflicted upon an ambitious man, whom
he condemned to be executed by having smoke poured
into his nostrils till he expired, saying to the
unhappy victim that as he had lived for smoke, so it
was fit that he should die by smoke? What shall we
say of the avaricious man whose money is his master
and his god? Is it not in this idol that he finds his
comfort and his glory? Is it not the end of all his
labors, the object of his hopes? For it does he
hesitate to neglect body and soul, to deny himself
the necessities of life? Is he restrained even by the
fear of God? Can such a man be said to be master of
his treasures? On the contrary, is he not their slave
as completely as if he were created for his money,
and not his money for him? Can there be a more
terrible slavery? We call a man a captive who is
placed in prison and bound with chains, but his
bondage does not equal that of a man whose soul is
the slave of an inordinate affection. Such a man
vainly thinks himself free, but no power of his soul
enjoys true liberty; his free will, weakened by sin,
is the only possession which remains to him. It
matters little what fetters bind man, if the nobler
part of his soul be captive. Nor does the fact that
he has voluntarily assumed these chains make his
bondage less real or less ignominious. The sweetness
of a poison by no means diminishes its fatal effects.
A man who is the slave of a passion is unceasingly
tormented by desires which he cannot satisfy and will
not curb. So strong is the bondage of the unhappy
victim that when he endeavors to regain his liberty
he meets with such resistance that frequently he
despairs of succeeding and returns to his chains.
If these miserable captives were held by one chain
only, there would be more hope of their deliverance.
But how numerous are the fetters which bind them! Man
is subject to many necessities, each of which excites
some desire; therefore, the greater the number of our
inordinate desires, the more numerous our chains.
This bondage is stronger in some than in others:
there are men of such tenacious disposition that it
is only with difficulty they reject what has once
taken possession of their imaginations. Others are of
a melancholy temperament and cling with gloomy
obstinacy to their desires. Many are so narrow-minded
that the most insignificant object cannot escape
their covetousness. This accords with the saying of
Seneca, that to small souls trifles assume vast
proportions. Others, again, are naturally vehement in
all their desires; this is generally the character of
women, who, as a philosopher observes, must either
love or hate, for it is difficult for them to observe
a just medium. If the misery of serving one
arbitrary master be so great, what must be the
suffering of the unhappy man who is enslaved by as
many masters as there are ungoverned affections in
his heart? If the dignity of man depend upon his
reason and free will, what can there be more fatal to
this dignity than passion, which obscures the reason
and enslaves the will? Without these powers he
descends to the level of the brute. From this
miserable slavery the Son of God has delivered us. By
the superabundant grace of God we have been redeemed;
by the sacrifice of the cross we have been purchased.
Hence the Apostle tells us that "our old man [our
sensual appetite] is crucified with Christ." (Rom.
6:6). By the merits of His crucifixion, we have been
strengthened to subdue and crucify our enemies,
inflicting upon them the suffering which they caused
us to endure, and reducing to slavery the tyrants
whom we formerly served. Thus do we verify the words
of Isaias: "They shall make them captives that had
taken them, and shall subdue their oppressors." (Is.
14:2). Before the reign of grace, the flesh ruled the
spirit and made it the slave of the most depraved
desires. But strengthened by grace, the spirit rules
the flesh and makes it the docile instrument of the
noblest deeds. We find a forcible illustration of
this defeat of the power of darkness and the triumph
of truth in the example of King Adonibezec, whom the
children of Israel put to death after cutting off his
fingers and toes. In the midst of his suffering the
unhappy king exclaimed, "Seventy kings having their
fingers and their toes cut off, gathered up the
leavings of the meat under my table; as I have done,
so God hath requitted me." (Jud. 1:7). This cruel
tyrant is a figure of the prince of this world, who
has disabled the children of God by robbing them of
the use of their noblest faculties, .thus rendering
them powerless to do any good. They being reduced to
so helpless a condition, he throws to them, from the
store of his vile pleasures, what are fitly called
crumbs, for the gratifications which sin brings are
never able to satisfy the appetites of the wicked.
See, then, that even of the brutal pleasures for
which they bargained with Satan, their cruel master
will not give them sufficient. Christ came and by
His Passion overcame this enemy and compelled him to
endure the same sufferings which he had inflicted on
others. He cut off his members-that is, He deprived
him of his power and bound him hand and foot.
Adonibezec, the Holy Scriptures tell us, suffered
death in Jerusalem. In the same city Our Saviour died
to destroy the tyrant sin. It was after this great
Sacrifice that men learned to conquer the world, the
flesh, and the devil. Strengthened by the grace which
Christ has purchased for us, neither the pleasures of
the world nor the power of Satan can force them to
commit a mortal sin. You will ask, perhaps, what
is the source of this liberty and the glorious
victory which it enables us to gain. After God, its
source is grace, which, by means of the virtues it
nourishes in us, subdues our passions and compels
them to submit to the empire of reason. Certain men
are said to charm serpents to such a degree that,
without injuring them or lessening their venom, the
snakes are rendered perfectly harmless. In like
manner, grace so charms our passions-the venomous
reptiles of the flesh � that, though they continue to
exist in our nature, they can no longer harm us or
infect us with their poison.
St. Paul expresses this truth with great clearness.
After speaking at some length of the tyranny of our
sensual appetites, he concludes with the memorable
words, "Unhappy man that I am, who shall deliver me
from the body of this death?" And he answers, "The
grace of God by Jesus Christ our Lord." (Rom. 7:
24,25). The body of death here mentioned by St. Paul
is not the natural death of the body which all must
undergo, but "the body of sin" (Rom. 6:6) � our
sensual appetites, the fruitful source of all our
miseries. These are the tyrants from which the grace
of God delivers us. A second source of this
liberty is the joy of a good conscience and the
spiritual consolations experienced by the just. These
so satisfy man's thirst for happiness that he can
easily resist the grosser pleasures of the flesh.
Having found the fountain of all happiness, he
desires no other pleasures. As Our Saviour Himself
declared: Whoever will drink of the water that He
will give him shall thirst no more. (Cf. Jn. 4:13). St. Gregory thus develops this text: He who has
experienced the sweetness of the spiritual life
rejects the objects of his sensual love. He
generously disposes of his treasures. His heart is
inflamed with a desire for heavenly things. He sees
but deformity in the beauty which formerly allured
him. His heart is filled with the water of life, and,
therefore, he has no thirst for the fleeting
pleasures of the world. He finds the Lord of all
things, and thus, in a measure, he becomes the master
of all things, for in this one Good every other good
is contained. Besides these two divine favors,
there is another means by which the liberty of the
just is regained. This is the vigilant care with
which the virtuous man unceasingly labors to bring
the flesh under the dominion of reason. The passions
are thereby gradually moderated, and lose that
violence with which they formerly attacked the soul.
Habit does much to cause this happy change, but when
aided and confirmed by grace its effects are truly
wonderful. Accustomed to the influence of reason, our
passions seem to change their nature. They are no
longer the fierce assailants of our virtue, but
rather its submissive servants.
Hence it is that they who serve God very often find
more pleasure, even sensible pleasure, in
recollection, silence, pious reading, meditation,
prayer, and other devout exercises, than in any
worldly amusement. In this happy state the work of
subduing the flesh is rendered very easy. Weakened as
it is, the attacks it makes on us serve only as
occasions of new conquests and new merits.
Nevertheless, the ease with which we win these
victories should not disarm our prudence or render us
less vigilant in guarding the senses as long as we
are on earth, however perfectly the flesh may be
mortified. These are the principal sources of that
marvelous liberty enjoyed by the just. This liberty
inspires us with a new knowledge of God and confirms
us in the practice of virtue. This we learn from the
prophet: "They shall know that I am the Lord when I
shall have broken the bonds of their yoke, and shall
have delivered them out of the hand of those that
rule over them." (Ezech. 34:27). St. Augustine, who
experienced the power of this yoke, says, "I was
bound by no other fetters than my own iron will ,
which was in the possession of the enemy. With this
he held me fast. From it sprang evil desires, and in
satisfying these evil desires I contracted a vicious
habit. This habit was not resisted, and, increasing
in strength as time passed, finally became a
necessity, which reduced me to the most cruel
servitude." (Conf. 8,5). When a man who has long
been oppressed by the bondage under which St.
Augustine groaned turns to God, and sees his chains
fall from him, his passions quelled, and the yoke
which oppressed him lying at his feet, he cannot but
recognize in his deliverance the power of God's
grace. Filled with gratitude, he will cry out with
the prophet, "Thou hast broken my bonds, O Lord! I
will sacrifice to thee a sacrifice of praise, and I
will call upon the name of the Lord." (Ps. 115:7).
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