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Be cordial and kind, gentle and lowly; considerate towards
others,
severe upon yourself
What a number of precepts, what a wealth of detail is contained in
this maxim.
To begin with, virtue is not virtue unless it is lovable: where it
is not, it is imperfect. And its imperfection is due to self-love
and self-esteem. When humility has dried up these two sources of
all our shortcomings and evil habits, then virtue reveals itself
in all its loveliness, and men cannot help but pay it homage, even
though they may not show it. For virtue causes us to render to
others the feelings we entertain for ourselves, so that what would
be unwarrantable self-love in our own case becomes praiseworthy
charity when directed towards others. It leads us to do to others
as we would be done by; to think and speak, and even suffer from
them, as we would have them act in our regard. Certainly no one
could refuse the tribute of his love for such a virtue when he
sees it in others, and all men would love one another if they were
virtuous.
True piety, therefore, will inspire in the true servant of God all
that will make him lovable, and its first sign is gentleness. If
he is austere, it is only towards himself, and even then only in
the measure of a holy discretion. Towards others, he is kind, easy
and accommodating, in so far as his conscience permits. Ifat times
he is obliged to be severe, charity is always the principle of his
severity. He is never forbidding or rude, but always approachable
and friendly. When we decide to live devoutly in the world, it
would be a mistake to break off all social intercourse and lead
too secluded a life, in order to give ourselves up wholly to pious
exercises. Because we have given ourselves to God, that does, mean
that we are to have no more friends (assuming, of course, that
such friendships are not dangerous or will not dissipate us in any
way). There is no need to deprive ourselves of the pleasure of
their society. Visits of courtesy--even those which would appear
to be purposeless and tiresome--need not be a burden to us. What
would the world think of a pious person who shut himself up in his
home and refused to see anybody; or, if he must see them,
presented a cold and forbidding countenance? By withdrawing thus
from all social intercourse, he would render piety odious, and
give the impression that it was most unreasonable. It would also
deprive him of many opportunities for practising virtue, and he
would contract the very faults and form a habit of mind which true
religion condemns.
Undoubtedly it is good to have a fixed time for one's religious
duties and, so far as possible, to discharge them faithfully. But
we should not multiply them to such an extent that they effect our
whole day, and leave us no time to give to our fellow creatures.
Besides, charity always knows how to adapt and even sacrifice
itself in the matter of devotions, in accordance with the
consideration it owes to others.
True piety, further, evinces much gentleness in the exercise of
authority, especially towards children and other dependents. It is
never rigid, unyielding and exacting. When it rebukes, it does so
without undue severity. It readily forgives, and does not search
for every tiny fault. Threats are never on its lips, nor
chastisement in its hand. Above all, it avoids outbursts of
impatience and temper, hard words and reproaches, all that
mortifies and hurts without helping to correct. It ever seeks to
make others good, but not in a harsh way, and it does not expect
perfection to be reached in a day. It waits patiently, and returns
again and again to the same point. It consoles, encourages, has a
good word for good will, and praises the smallest efforts in order
to induce greater.
But the especial fault which it is the object of true piety to
correct in us is irritability or moodiness. Everyone understands
the term, but it is not easy to define it. It is laid to the
charge of devout persons more than to any others. Mistaken piety
often gives occasions for its display. The cross humour to which I
allude does not arise from malice; it is not a failing of bad
people, but on the contrary of the frank and straightforward. But
it causes many heart-aches of which one is veritably ashamed when
the fit has passed, and it is intolerable in the presence of
others. Politeness teaches us to check it amongst strangers and
those we respect, but we are not so quick to repress it among
friends or at home. And those who give way to it are the first to
suffer from its effects.
Nothing is more difficult to extirpate than this moodiness,
because it is not excited for any particular reason, nor by any
recognized moral cause; it depends in great measure on physical
causes. What is more, it forestalls any kind of reflection on our
part, and its fits come on when least expected. What hold can the
will have on such a complaint, once middle-age has been reached? I
know of but one remedy and that is the practice of the presence of
God and of contemplative prayer. The first warns us of any
stirrings of bad temper and checks them; the second gradually
establishes the soul in a state of calm, keeps the imagination
within bounds, modifies sensitiveness, and puts to flight low
spirits, which are, I should say, the chief source of ill humour.
But the gentleness inspired by virtue must not be confused with
that mildness which is purely natural. Those who are meek by
nature are often weak, soft, indifferent, apathetic and unduly
indulgent. Those, on the contrary, whose gentleness is an acquired
virtue, are strong and firm. Their feelings run deep and are
affected equally by good and evil. They are indulgent when it is
advisable to be so, but never if it involves breaking the rules of
duty. Those who are naturally meek are afraid to reprove lest they
become excited and upset, while those who are virtuously gentle
reprove strongly and even vigorously, but always with
selfpossession. The former dissemble through timidity, the others
speak according to the promptings of charity. The former often run
the risk of failing in their duty on some point, the latter will
always fulfil their duty faithfully, without human respect. The
former spare others in order to spare themselves, the latter only
for God's greater glory, and as a duty of the highest order. As to
that gentleness which is merely scheming, it is a vice which all
agree in condemning.
Cordiality is another outcome of true piety. It was long ago
banished from ordinary social intercourse, and its place taken by
politeness, which resembles it externally, but dissimulates its
feelings, affecting those it does not possess and hiding those it
does. These demonstrations are received and paid back in the same
coin, but in reality no reliance is to be placed on them, and they
deceive no one with the least experience. The first lesson taught
by the world to its votaries is to appear candid, but never to be
cordial. And the word itself is almost as little used in modern-
day speech as the thing itself is rare in society. Polite
intercourse is reduced to vain and frequently contemptuous
compliments, to offers of service the acceptance of which would be
annoying, unmeaning promises easily to be evaded at the time of
fulfilment, assurances of good will which always end in
declarations of regret, and demonstrations of interest in other's
concerns that appear to be genuine but are in reality often cold
and completely false.
How different is this outward affectation from real Christian
cordiality. Charity never fails in the requirements of true
courtesy, but with them combines frankness and candour. It
expresses only what it feels, and that simply, unaffectedly and
persuasively. There is no evasion, no reticence, no affectation,
all comes from the heart. It is love that prompts speech,
discretion that holds it in check. Sweet and safe and satisfactory
are the relations with minds inspired by charity. The first
Christians, we are told, had but one heart and one soul, [112] for
they looked upon themselves as members of one body joined to one
Head.
This is the divine unity that Our Lord asked of His Father on the
night of His Passion. Father, He prayed, that they all may be one,
as Thou in Me and I in Thee; that they also may be one in Us; that
the world may believe that Thou hast sent Me. [113] By that sign
Our Lord wills that the divine origin of His religion should be
known. If only that unity reigned on earth, happiness would reign
likewise. It was Our Lord's mind that it should begin in this
world and be consummated eternally in heaven. But where is it
today? In the hearts of a very small number of Christians, far
fewer than is generally supposed. The hearts of the rest are
crossed by a thousand petty views of self-interest and
selfseeking, which, though they may not kill it, render charity
cold and constrained.
Kindliness adds to cordiality a certain disposition which takes
all in good part, puts the best construction on things, is not
quick to take offence, and is neither captious nor suspicious: a
quality not usually found among devout persons. These are so apt
to judge others severely, because they are able to recognize good
and evil, and have greater lights by which they discern these
things in others.
Another fault which is fairly common in such persons is that of
esteeming oneself better than everyone else. Self-esteem and
spiritual vanity are among the most dangerous snares which beset
anyone new to the interior life. No sooner have we given ourselves
to God and think we perceive a noticeable improvement in our
behaviour, than we begin to make comparisons. How superior we are
and, thank God, how free from the defects we notice in others! And
so it goes on, and before we know where we are, we repeat the
words of the Pharisee in the Gospel: O God, I give Thee thanks
that I am not as the rest of men. [114]
These feelings are generally enhanced if one has felt a certain
sensible sweetness at communion. If emotion has wrung from us a
few tears, at once the soul fancies that it is lifted up right
above this world and given eagles' wings for the loftiest of
flights. This is a subtle temptation which it is difficult
altogether to avoid, unless God gives a helping hand or withdraws
His misused consolations. Spiritual pride is unquestionably more
to be feared than any other, since its objects are so much more
excellent. Wherefore, God allows those who yield to it to be
visited with still greater blindness, and its victims are exposed
to the danger of their eternal loss.
Those directors who have not the spirit of God are equally apt to
presume on their gifts, and fancy themselves more enlightened than
others. They persuade themselves that they have a special gift for
the guidance of souls, and that others know nothing about it. They
are proud of the number and quality of their penitents, and use
secret devices to increase their number. If they are not
continually boasting of their own powers, that work is done for
them by other lips. They express pity for those who apply to other
priests and imply that it is a matter for regret that persons so
well disposed should not have fallen into better hands. Their
first business, therefore, when someone submits to their
direction, is to destroy the work that has been done by others and
to suggest new methods, insisting that their penitents should
adopt an altogether different way of life. Directors of this kind
have an intensely domineering spirit, and exercise despotic sway
over souls. They do not bring them into subjection to grace but to
their own notions. They never tell them to listen to the voice of
God speaking in their hearts: no, God is supposed to speak through
their instrumentality alone, and any inward inspiration not in
accordance with their views is treated as an illusion. I pray you,
devout souls, avoid these despots, and seek such as will watch the
work of grace in your soul, and conform their advice to the
guidance of the Holy Spirit. Their one lesson will be to teach you
to be attentive and docile to the voice of the Good Shepherd.
To overlook the faults of others is a fundamental rule of
Christian charity; severity with our own the first principle of
interior mortification. But many who profess to be interior souls
assume just the opposite. There has always been, and always will
be, ground for complaint on this score.
How easy is that devotion which consists in blaming and
criticizing other people, sometimes with intolerable harshness,
sometimes with an affectation of pity. Where is the charity in a
person who will not bear with others, but turns to ridicule all
that he disapproves, either with or without reason; who makes no
allowance for anything, not even for human frailty? We are not
obliged to flatter our neighbour in spite of his reprehensible
characteristics, but we should bear with him, and not let him see
that his company is not agreeable to us. With whom are we to live
if we only live with those who are faultless? By what rule of
equity would you have others, not only put up with you but take
pleasure in your company and adapt themselves to your
peculiarities, when you are not prepared to bear their burdens,
which are quite as heavy as your own? Are you yourself faultless?
And yet you feel that others should make allowances for you. At
least, then, be indulgent towards them. Of all defects,
intolerance towards others is the most disgraceful. Bear ye one
another's burdens, and so you shall fulfil the law of Christ.
[115] So says St. Paul, and he comes back to the same thing in
almost all his epistles. It is, indeed, a most important factor in
life, most necessary for the common good, and it helps to make
things run smoothly. The natural law has even endowed it with the
force of a precept, so essential is it in its eyes. An ancient
poet insisted that, just as love is blind to the defects in the
object of its affections, so should we be to the shortcomings of
our friends; that we should disguise them under favourable terms,
even as a father hides the corporal blemishes of his son. The
apostle would have Christians love one another with the same kind
of love, and encourage the same kind of union, as members of a
body. [116] The members of the human body, he seems to say, do
more than support one another. They come to one another's aid as
need arises, and watch with assiduous care in the conservation of
the whole, the stronger coming to the aid of the weaker members.
So St. Paul would have us act in like manner, one towards another,
as members of one body.
Take the example of Our Lord Himself, and consider how He lived
with His apostles. He was holiness itself, they coarse and far
from perfect. What could He see in them that provoked His love;
and what did He not see that did not repel it? It would seem that
the holier He was, the more painful it must have been to live with
them; He might have been excused if He had had less indulgence
towards them, and yet it was just the contrary. Never was a master
more compassionate, more condescending. With what kindness He
taught them, adapting His teaching to their lack of understanding,
repeating His lessons, emphasizing them, explaining in private
what He had said in public. With what gentleness He reprimanded
them for their jealousy, their ambition, for their quarrels
amongst themselves. Their failure to grasp the heavenly meaning of
all He said, their Jewish prejudices, their misguided opinion of
His Person--none of these things shocked Him. Indeed, He preferred
their ignorant simplicity to the knowledge of the doctors, and to
the proud justice of the Pharisees, who found no greater fault in
Him than that He associated with the lowly, especially with
sinners. See how wonderfully He spoke to the disciples in His
discourse after the Last Supper.
And St. Paul, the perfect imitator of Christ, made himself all
things to all men, in order that he might win the world to Christ.
Not that he sought to please men; his thoughts were far higher
than that. But he bent down to them so that he might raise them up
to him. He made their miseries his own, so touched was he by their
need. He tells Christians that they must rejoice with those that
rejoice, and weep with those that weep. [117] Who is weak, he
said, and I am not weak; who is scandalized, and I am not on fire?
[118] He wanted the strong to help the weak; that they should not
seek their own pleasure, but be to one another what Jesus was to
them.
St. John, the beloved disciple, would seem to reduce the whole of
his teaching to the love of one's neighbour, and to that charity
which endures all. In his extreme old age, no longer able to
preach long discourses, he contented himself with repeating the
simple words: Little children, love one another. [119] And when it
was complained that he always said the same thing, he replied in
effect that such was the commandment of the Lord, and it alone was
enough, provided one fulfilled it.
Now of all the duties contained in this precept the most essential
is the patient endurance of one's neighbour, because it calls for
sustained effort and its results are of the greatest consequence,
whether the commandment be kept or no. It is also the most
difficult, since it demands continuous vigilance, and unremitting
efforts to overcome ourselves. To bear all from others, giving
them no occasion to bear anything from us, is a sign of very great
virtue.
But to arrive at this state, what a deadly war must be waged with
our personal defects, with that self-love which is at the root of
them. Say what we will, the true reason that makes us so
fastidious in regard to others is our own excessive self-love and
self-esteem. The more we spare ourselves, the less do we consider
others. The blinder we are to our own imperfections, the clearer
do we perceive the defects of others. The great and only way to
become charitable is to give oneself wholeheartedly to the
practice of interior mortification, to apply the knife and cautery
to our own wounds, and to uproot down to the tiniest fibre our
secret self-complacency. Rest assured that in the measure in which
selflove dies in us, will the love of our neighbour grow.
But that is just what men will not listen to. Of all the forms of
mortification, interior mortification is the most distasteful to
nature. Men will willingly overburden themselves with austerities,
regretting those they cannot undertake; they will fast beyond
their strength, undertake all manner of devotional practices,
spend hours of the day in prayer: but break their will, repress
their bad temper, try to overcome their sensitiveness, check their
unfounded suspicions, their malicious curiosity, their rash
judgments and unjust prejudices; in a word, make war on all the
vices of the heart and mind--this few are prepared to do, so
painful is it to nature. And fewer still have the courage to carry
it to a successful issue.
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