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Another motive which obliges man to serve God is the
benefit of preservation. God gave you being, and
still preserves it to you, for you are as powerless
to subsist without Him as you were incapable of
coming into existence without Him. The benefit of
preservation is not less than that of creation. It is
even greater, for your creation was but a single act,
while your preservation is a continuous manifestation
of God's abiding love. If, then, your creation
demands from you so great a return of gratitude, who
can reckon the debt you owe for the gift of
preservation? There is not a movement of your eye,
there is not a step you take, which is not by His
power. Far if you do not believe that it is through
Him that you live and act, you are no longer a
Christian; and if, believing it, you continue
deliberately to offend your Benefactor, how can I say
what you are? If a man on the top of a high tower
held another suspended by a small cord over an abyss,
do you think the latter would dare to address
injurious words to him who held him thus suspended?
How is it, then, that you, whose existence hangs by a
thread which God can sever at any moment, dare excite
the anger of this infinite Majesty by outraging Him
with the very benefits He mercifully preserves to
you?
The goodness of this sovereign Being is so great,
says St. Denis, that while creatures are offending
Him and madly rebelling against His will, He
continues to give them the power and strength which
they use to resist Him. How, then, can you be so
rash, so ungrateful as to turn against God the
blessings with which He has loaded you? Oh!
Incredible blindness! Oh! Senseless rebellion-that
the members would conspire against their Head, for
which they ought to be ready to make any sacrifice!
But a time will come when God's outraged patience
shall be avenged. You have conspired against God. It
is just that He should arm the universe against you,
that all creatures should rise up against you to
avenge their Creator. They who closed their eyes to
the sweet light of His mercy while it still shone
upon them and allured them by so many benefits will
justly behold it when, too late for amendment, they
shall be groaning under the severity of His justice.
Consider in addition to this benefit the rich and
delightful banquet of nature prepared for you by your
Creator. Everything in this world is for man's use,
directly or indirectly. Insects serve as food for
birds, which in their turn serve as food for man. In
like manner the grass of the fields supports the
animals destined also for man's service. Cast your
eye upon this vast world, and behold the abundance of
your possessions, the magnificence of your
inheritance. All that move upon the earth, or swim in
the water, or fly in the air, or live under the sun
are made for you. Every creature is a benefit of
God, the work of His Providence, a ray of His beauty,
a token of His mercy, a spark of His love, a voice
which proclaims His magnificence. These are the
eloquent messengers of God continually reminding you
of your obligations to Him. "Everything," says St.
Augustine, "in Heaven and on earth calls upon me to
love Thee, O Lord! And the universe unceasingly
exhorts all men to love Thee, that none may exempt
themselves from this sweet law." Oh! That you had
ears to hear the voice of creatures appealing to you
to love God. Their expressive silence tells you that
they were created to serve you, while yours is the
sweet duty of praising your common Lord not only in
your own name but in theirs also. I flood your days
with light, the heavens declare, and your nights I
illumine with the soft radiance of my stars. By my
different influences all nature bears fruit in season
for your necessities. I sustain your breath, the
air tells you; with gentle breezes I refresh you and
temper your bodily heat. I maintain an almost
infinite variety of birds to delight you with their
beauty, to ravish you with their songs, and to feed
you; with their flesh. I maintain for your
nourishment innumerable fishes, the water exclaims. I
water your lands, that they may give you their fruit
in due season. I afford you an easy passage to
distant countries; that you may add their riches to
those of your own. But what says the earth, this
common mother of all things, this vast storehouse of
the treasures of nature? Surely she may tell you:
Like a good mother I bear you in my arms; I prepare
food for all your necessities; I procure the
concurrence of the heavens and all the elements for
your welfare. Never do I abandon you, for after
supporting you during life, I receive you in death
and in my own bosom give you a final resting place.
Thus can the whole universe with one voice cry out:
Behold how my Master and Creator has loved you. He
has created me for your happiness, that I might serve
you, and that you in your turn might love and serve
Him; for I have been made for you, and you have been
made for God. This is the voice of all creatures.
Will you be deaf to it? Will you be insensible to so
many benefits? You have been loaded with favors. Do
not forget the debt you thence contract. Beware of
the crime of ingratitude. Every creature, says
Richard of St. Victor, addresses these three words to
man: Receive, give, beware. Receive the benefit; give
thanks for it; and beware of the punishment of
ingratitude. Epictetus, a pagan philosopher, fully
appreciated this truth. He teaches us to behold the
Creator in all His creatures, and to refer to Him all
the blessings we receive from them. "When you are
warned," he says, "of a change in the atmosphere by
the redoubled cries of the crow, it is not the crow,
but God who warns you. And if the voice of men gives
you wise counsel and useful knowledge, it is also God
who speaks. For He has given them this wisdom and
knowledge, and, therefore, you must recognize His
power in the instruments He wills to employ. But when
He wishes to acquaint you with matters of greater
moment He chooses more noble and worthy messengers."
The same philosopher adds, "When you will have
finished reading my counsels, say to yourself: It is
not Epictetus the philosopher who tells me all these
things; it is God. For whence in fact has he received
the power to give these counsels but from God? Is it
not God Himself, therefore, who speaks to me through
him?" Such are the sentiments of Epictetus. Should
not a Christian blush to be less enlightened than a
pagan philosopher? Surely it is shameful that they
who are illumined by faith should not see what was so
clear to them who had no other guide than the light
of simple reason. Since, then, every creature is a
benefit from God, how can we live surrounded by these
proofs of His love, and yet never think of Him? If,
wearied and hungry, you seated yourself at the foot
of a tower, and a beneficent creature from above sent
you food and refreshment, could you forbear raising
your eyes to your kind benefactor? Yet God
continually sends down upon you blessings of every
kind.
Find me, I pray you, but one thing which does not
come from God, which does not happen by His special
Providence. Why is it, then, that you never raise
your eyes to this indefatigable and generous
Benefactor? Ah! We have divested ourselves of our own
nature, so to speak, and have fallen into worse than
brute insensibility. I blush, in truth, to say what
we resemble in this particular, but it is good for
man to hear it. We are like a herd of swine feeding
under an oak. While their keeper is showering down
acorns, they greedily devour them, grunting and
quarrelling with one another, yet never raising their
eyes to the master who is feeding them. Oh! Brute
like
ingratitude of the children of Adam! We have received
the light of reason, and an upright form. Our head is
directed to Heaven, not to earth, which ought to
teach us to raise the eyes of our soul to the abode
of our Benefactor. Would that irrational creatures
did not excel us in this duty! But the law of
gratitude, so dear to God, is so deeply impressed on
all creatures that we find this noble sentiment even
in the most savage beasts. What nature is more savage
than that of a lion? Yet Appian, a Greek author,
tells us that a certain man took refuge in a cave,
where he extracted a thorn from the foot of a lion.
Grateful for the kindness, the noble animal ever
after shared his prey with his benefactor while he
remained in the cave. Some years later this man,
having been charged with a crime, was condemned to be
exposed to wild beasts in the amphitheater. When the
time of execution arrived, a lion which had been
lately captured was let loose on the prisoner.
Instead of tearing his victim to pieces he gazed at
him intently, and, recognizing his former benefactor,
he gave evident signs of joy, leaping and fawning
upon him as a dog would upon his master. Moved by
this spectacle, the judges, on hearing his story,
released both man and lion. Forgetful of his former
wildness, the lion, until his death, continued to
follow his master through the streets of Rome without
offering the slightest injury to anyone. A like
instance of gratitude is related of another lion that
was strangling in the coils of a serpent when a
gentleman riding by came to his rescue and killed the
serpent. The grateful animal, to show his devotion,
took up his abode with his deliverer and followed him
wherever he went, like a faithful dog. One day the
gentleman set sail, leaving the lion behind him on
the shore. Impatient to be with his master, the
faithful animal plunged into the sea, and, being
unable to reach the vessel, was drowned. What
instances could we not relate of the fidelity and
gratitude of the horse! Pliny, in his Natural History
(8,40), tells us that horses have been seen to shed
tears at the death of their masters, and even to
starve themselves to death for the same reason. Nor
are the gratitude and fidelity of dogs less
surprising. Of these the same author relates most
marvelous things. He gives, among other examples, an
instance which occurred in his own time at Rome. A
man condemned to death was allowed in prison the
companionship of his dog. The faithful animal never
left him, and even after death remained by the
lifeless body to testify to his grief. If food were
given to him he immediately brought it to his master
and laid it on his lifeless lips. Finally, when the
remains were thrown into the Tiber, he plunged into
the river, and, having placed himself beneath the
body, struggled till the last to keep it from
sinking. Could there be gratitude greater than this? Now, if beasts, with no other guide than natural
instinct, thus show their love and gratitude for
their masters, how can man, possessing the superior
guidance of reason, live in such forgetfulness of his
Benefactor? Will he suffer the brute creation to give
him lessons in fidelity, gratitude, and kindness?
Moreover, will he forget that the benefits he
receives from God are incomparably superior to those
which animals receive from men? Will he forget that
his Benefactor is so infinite in His excellence, so
disinterested in His love, overwhelming His creatures
with blessings which can in no way benefit Himself?
This must ever be a subject of wonder and
astonishment, and evidently proves that there are
evil spirits who darken our understanding, weaken our
memory, and harden our heart, in order to make us
forget so bountiful a Benefactor. If it be so
great a crime to forget this Lord, what must it be to
insult Him, and to convert His benefits into the
instruments of our offences against Him? "The first
degree of ingratitude," says Seneca, "is to neglect
to repay the benefits we have received; the second is
to forget them; the third is to requite the
benefactor with evil." But what shall we say of that
excess of ingratitude which goes so far as to outrage
the benefactor with his own benefits? I doubt whether
one man ever treated another as we dare to treat God.
What man, having received a large sum of money from
his sovereign, would be so ungrateful as immediately
to employ it in raising an army against him? Yet you,
unhappy creatures, never cease to make war upon God
with the very benefits you have received from Him.
How infamous would be the conduct of a married woman
who, having received a rich present from her husband,
would bestow it upon the object of her unlawful love
in order to secure his affections! The world would
regard it as base, unparalleled treason; yet the
offence is only between equals. But what proportions
the crime assumes when the affront is from a creature
to God! Yet is not this the crime of men who consume
their health, and who waste, in the pursuit of vice,
the means that God has given them? They pervert their
strength to the gratification of their pride; their
beauty but feeds their heir flesh, to traffic in
innocence, bargaining, even as the Jews did with
Judas, for the Blood of Christ! What shall I say of
their abuse of other benefits?
The sea serves but to satisfy their gluttony and
their ambition; the beauty of creatures excites their
gross sensuality; earthly possessions but feed their
avarice; and talents, whether natural or acquired,
only tend to increase their vanity and pride.
Prosperity inflates them with folly, and adversity
reduces them to despair. They choose the darkness of
the night to hide their thefts, and the light of day
to lay their snares, as we read in Job. In a word,
they pervert all that God has created for His glory
to the gratification of their inordinate passions.
What shall I say of their effeminate adornments,
their costly fabrics, their extravagant perfumes,
their sumptuous tables groaning under the weight of
rare and luxurious viands? Nay, sensuality and luxury
are so general that, to our shame, books are
published to teach us how to sin in these respects.
Men have perverted creatures from their lawful use,
and instead of making God's benefits a help to
virtue, they have turned them into instruments of
vice. So great is the selfishness of the world that
there is nothing which men do not sacrifice to the
gratification of the flesh, wholly forgetful of the
poor, whom God has so specially recommended to their
care. Such persons never find that they are poor
until they are asked for alms; at any other time
there is no extravagant luxury their income cannot
afford. Beware lest this terrible accusation be
made against you at the hour of death! The greater
the benefits you have perverted, the more severe the
account you will have to render. It is a great sign
of reprobation for a man to continue to abuse the
favors God has bestowed upon him. To have received
much, and to have made but small return, is, in a
manner, already to have judged oneself. If the
Ninivites shall rise in judgment against the Jews for
not having done penance at Our Saviour's teaching,
let us see that the same Lord shall have no reason to
condemn us upon the example of beasts that love their
benefactors, while we manifest such gross ingratitude
to the Supreme Benefactor of all.
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