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Follow the enlightening spirit of Christ: mistrust the
blindness
and treachery of the natural mind
Most devout persons are religious after their . own fashion and
according to their own ideas, and character. The number of those
who, denying themselves thoroughly, seek to follow no light but
that of grace, and willingly deny themselves their own light that
they may be enlightened by eternal wisdom, is very small indeed.
The practical application of this maxim, on which depends almost
all progress in the interior life, is much more difficult for men
than for women, because men trust more to their own judgment. If
you were to suggest to a man full of confidence in his own reason
and good sense, that he should give up his private judgment in
order to enter into the ways of God, he would not understand you,
nor would he see the necessity of what you propose. He cannot
conceive that God's thoughts are higher than our thoughts, and His
ways other than our ways. [39] He believes that he has the right
to guide himself, and the power to guide others.
What is the result? He will never be thoroughly subjected to the
divine spirit. He will contradict it, fight against it, both in
himself and in those for whom he may be responsible. He will form
false judgments concerning spiritual things and persons. He will
obstinately reject what is good, and approve what is harmful, or
else vacillate between one and the other; so that there is nothing
fixed or consecutive either in his principles or direction.
What, then, is the natural spirit, or the spirit of private
judgment? It is human reason in so far as it professes to judge of
the things of God by its own light, without recourse to the light
of grace. It is natural prudence, which conceives itself all
sufficient, and is ready to propose maxims and rules of conduct,
both for itself and for others, without consulting God or those
who stand in His place.
Now in order to grasp this fully, we must lay down as a first
principle that we do not really know the secrets of the interior
life, nor all that pertains to the operations of grace except by a
supernatural light: that our ideas on these things are only
correct in so far as God impresses them on our souls, and that by
this means alone do we rightly understand what is written
concerning them in Holy Scripture, and in books treating of such
matters. Without that light, it is impossible to distinguish, in
ourselves or in others, between what comes from God and what
emanates from other sources. Hence it follows that, if we are to
form right judgments in these matters, our reason must be in
continual dependence on the spirit of God, and fully persuaded of
its own insufficiency and complete incompetence. It must have
constant recourse to prayer; or, rather, it must be in a state of
continual prayer.
It also follows that a true acquaintance with the secrets of the
interior life can never be acquired merely by reading books,
however exact and profound they may be; nor by the kind of
meditation in which one simply relies on one's own reflections. We
must have light from above, and this is only possible by humble
prayer. Otherwise, we will understand nothing of what we read; or,
if by presumption we imagine we understand something, it will be
all wrong. In general, anyone who is not leading an interior life
will not really understand spiritual things, or be able to make a
profitable use of what he understands. And even those who are in
the interior way will only appreciate in books what they have
learnt from experience. Anything beyond that will be
unintelligible to them, unless God gives them the light. And since
God wants to lead us by the obscure way of faith, He generally
does not give us this light for ourselves, but rather to those who
are our guides in this matter.
Now this knowledge, being infused, is only to be retained by
humility, by faithful correspondence with grace, and by a
continual care to advance in holiness. It is lost if pride
appropriates it to itself; if prayer and other salutary exercises
are neglected; if too much play is allowed to reasoning and
curiosity; if a curb is not kept on the activity of the mind. The
mind must be passive if it is to receive what God has to give.
Nothing is more delicate than the spirit of God. It is infinitely
pure, and will brook no interference from the purely natural
spirit. Nothing is more difficult than to receive and preserve it
in all its purity, so inclined are we to insinuate something of
our own into it. Nothing requires more attention, more
watchfulness, more distrust of self. Self-love and the devil make
it their one business to abuse and ruin it in our hearts, to turn
us away from it, and deprive us of it by secret and imperceptible
devices.
A whole volume would be necessary to describe fully this spirit of
private judgment: to define its distinctive characteristics, and
to tell of its fatal consequences, both for ourselves and for
others. It is the oldest malady of the soul, and was the first
step in original sin in the case of our first parents. They would
not have sinned, had they not called in question God's
commandment; had they not searched for the motive of His
prohibition, and listened to the tempter's suggestion. The purely
natural spirit taught them to scrutinize, and led them to disobey.
To it they owed the loss of their original rectitude, simplicity
and happy innocence, and their fatal acquaintance with evil,
hitherto unknown to them.
Now this malady is the most universal, the most deeply-seated and
inveterate, and the most difficult of all to cure. It is a subtle
poison, corrupting the whole substance of the soul, and infecting
even its good qualities and virtues. It is the enemy of God and of
His grace. It forbids entrance to His gifts, or robs men of them.
All sins committed are either its effect or its punishment.
Ordinary grace is not enough for its cure: it resists the most
violent remedies, and calls for very special grace. Its cure
demands long and acute trials, and so long as life lasts we cannot
be sure that it is eradicated. One glance at self may be
sufficient to revive it in the noblest of souls; death alone frees
us from it for ever.
Self-will is another misery which, according to St. Bernard,
opened hell, and follows on the heels of the purely natural
spirit. It is, so to say, its offspring, for our judgments precede
and determine our affections. If the heart clings to objects from
which the mind warns it to turn, or if it feels an aversion for
what the mind indicates that it should love, it is because then
the mind is being guided, not by private judgment, but by an
enlightened reason or by supernatural grace, both of which come
from God. So the fact remains that, not only deliberate sins but
sins of frailty or surprise are all children of the purely natural
spirit, from which we see how dangerous the latter is, and how
very much on our guard we must be in regard to it.
The marks by which it is known would be easily recognized if seen
by other eyes than our own. We have no difficulty in perceiving
them in others, and are only too ready to do so. But the signs we
notice in others we are blind to in ourselves.
This private spirit is self-confident, presumptuous,
argumentative, over-bold and quick to judge. It is stubborn and
unwilling to give way, so imbued is it with a sense of its own
importance. It wants to see, and is loath to bend itself under the
yoke of authority, which would have it believe. It is curious and
must know everything. It does not perceive its own limits, and,
presuming all things to be within its own depth, ventures to
fathom all. It dare not claim to be infallible, but acts as if it
were. To admit itself in the wrong is its greatest humiliation.
The more one seeks to convince it, the more opinionated it
becomes. And even when it is proved to be in the wrong, it refuses
to yield. Through sheer obstinacy it shuts its eyes to what is
known to be true.
And yet its sight is imperfect. It does not accepl things as they
are, but views them in the light most flattering to itself. It is
deceitful, false, perverse, haughty, censorious and contemptuous.
It fears humiliation as it loves praise, and is continually adding
secretly to the adulation it receives. It is mistrustful,
suspicious, ready to believe evil and to doubt good, and to give a
bad interpretation to the most innocent things. It is self-
satisfied, never pleased with others unless praised by them,
always holding them to be in the wrong as soon as they begin to
contradict or blame.
Such, and still more horrible, are the characteristics of the
purely natural spirit. It would be shocked, could it see itself as
it is. But the crowning point of its misery lies in that it is
blind, and its wilful blindness increases by reason of its
deformity. If you endeavour to open its eyes, you irritate and
excite it; it rebels against you, and all you say in order to
undeceive it merely confirms it in its self-complacency.
The reason is that, blind as it is, it fancies itself clear-
sighted. The more it is mistaken with regard to itself, the more
certain it feels that it does itself a justice which is refused it
by others. Its blindness arises from the fact that it sees itself
only in the false glare of pride, vanity and presumption, which
not only hides its vices and defects, but gives them the
appearance of virtues. If it should consult objective reason, and
still more grace, it would know itself truly by means of this dual
light. But it never does, and inasmuch as it is a purely natural
spirit, it is incapable of doing so.
In speaking thus, I depict almost all men, even those who profess
to be pious and good, not excepting even a great number of those
who think themselves interior and spiritual souls. This spirit of
private pride, as regards religion, is exactly the same thing as
the spirit of the Pharisees, of which Our Lord drew so striking a
picture in the Gospels, which He attacked so strenuously in His
discourses, and condemned so openly by His example. He even
consented to be its victim, in order the more thoroughly to deter
His disciples from it.
And yet, unfortunately, this Pharisaism is very common among pious
folk of all conditions. There are those who, in the exercise of
their calling seek for temporal advantages and the good opinion of
men. They welcome the rich and great of this world with open arms
and flattering words, while they will have nothing to do with the
lowly and poor, or treat them harshly. They exercise despotic rule
over men's consciences, make a show of the utmost rigour and
severity, exaggerate and condemn, and see sin in everything. They
are slaves to external practices, and recognize only the letter
and nothing of the spirit. They have a set routine of prayers, and
make artificial bounds for themselves, which they would not dream
of overstepping. They criticize others, setting themselves up as
living examples to be followed. Blind to their own faults, they
are for ever looking for defects in others.
There are also those who, knowing only their own dry form of
meditation, despise simple and humble prayer which, they say, is a
waste of time and dangerously like laziness. Others again feign a
kind of stiff out-of-the-way spirituality, full of affectation,
the seat of which is certainly not in the heart but in a proud
mind and a deluded imagination.
At the bottom of all this is the fact that these people have
substituted their own private spirit for the spirit of God; or, at
least, it is all so involved that they will never make any real
progress. What is more, they bring discredit on true piety, and
scandalize worldly folk who are thus disgusted with religion,
holding it responsible for a jumble which in fact it utterly
condemns.
The first thing to be resolved by anyone who sets out to lead a
truly Christian life and to discard from his devotions all the
faults I have just mentioned is, not only to mistrust his private
spirit but to study how to rid himself of it. He must fight
against it and pursue it relentlessly. This spiritual combat forms
the main part of that denial of self which Our Lord enjoins on all
who seek to follow Him. [40]
But the private spirit cannot fight against itself, because it
does not know itself. Reason, unless enlightened by faith and
aided by grace, is but a feeble weapon. We know of no case of any
philosopher, who by his own deliberations ever succeeded in
ridding himself of his private spirit. The slight conquests won in
that way, far from weakening it, only supply it with fresh vigour
by reason of the vain complacency it derives from its triumphs.
The only way to master it is to engage it with the arms of grace,
and to beg God to take the matter into His own all-powerful hands.
It must be handed over to God as His mortal enemy, protesting that
its utter destruction will be hailed as the greatest of blessings.
If this prayer is sincere and often repeated, God will certainly
take over the battle, while instructing us how to fulfil our part.
He will endow us with His own spirit, and we shall quickly be
aware of its presence. His spirit will gradually undermine and
regulate our own activity. It will cause its deliberations to
cease, quieten its agitations, correct its wrong notions, lessen
its malignity, crush its pride, and overcome its egoistic bent.
Then it will not be long before we can say with St. Paul: I live,
now not I, but (the spirit of) Christ liveth in me. [41]
How is all this to be brought about? That is God's secret, so
utterly inexplicable that the human spirit cannot penetrate it,
and will never die if it attempts to do so. It can only die in so
far as it allows itself to be deprived in turn of every private
judgment, of every private act, of every private feeling. What I
can say is that we soon begin to perceive the effects of the work
of grace. We feel ourselves to be a totally different person, and
we know that the cause of the change is the interior spirit
communicated to us by God. But what that interior spirit is, and
how it works, we do not know.
The change at once produced by it in our ideas and affections is
such that it has to be experienced to be understood. Holy
Scripture speaks of it as the birth of the new man: an inward,
spiritual man who, by his gradual development, imperceptibly
destroys the old man and, arrived at his full strength, slays him
utterly. The food of this new man is prayer, infused prayer,
continued almost unceasingly so long as reason retains its sway,
and resumed on waking after the night's sleep. It is prayer,
interior, yet, so to speak, without our own act; which, once it
becomes habitual, maintains itself.
This is the unobtrusive weapon we are to bring to bear upon the
purely private spirit. Its work is furthered by temptations,
trials, contradictions and humiliations. God employs all these
means to quell so formidable an enemy, even the prejudices and
wickedness of men, the malice of Satan, and the threatening arms
of His own justice. So Job says: The terrors of the Lord war
against me. [42] The soul seconds God in this war by yielding
itself to His crucifying operations, adding to these its own
practices of interior mortification.
It will readily be allowed that the natural or private spirit is
as I have described it: blind, deceitful and treacherous, and that
we must follow the spirit of Jesus, which alone prevents us from
walking in darkness and gives us the light of life. No doubt all
who would faithfully serve God intend to follow His spirit, but
why, it will be asked, do so few do so in reality?
I would suggest that the number of those who sincerely desire to
serve God is not so great as is commonly supposed. Not because we
are hypocrites, or that we want to deceive others, but because we
deceive ourselves. If we were really honest, would we flatter
ourselves, spare ourselves, withhold from God so many things that
we know He is asking of us? Would we turn a deaf ear to grace and
complain of its importunity; use every device to deafen our
conscience and try to fit God's interests in with our own? Do we
not know that God requires of every Christian that he deny himself
in all things and always? [43] And yet, do we do so? What does the
voice of conscience say to us in this matter; or rather what does
it say to God?
And so I aver that the intention men entertain of the following of
Christ is for the most part vague and speculative and not really
deep. It is indeterminate, it does not spring from the depths of
the will, and is rarely maintained in practice. Yet if we are to
follow the spirit of Christ we must know that spirit. It must be
studied, and that means entering into the mind of Christ,
searching out, as the Imitation says, the sentiments and
dispositions of His soul. Who are those who make the interior of
Jesus their habitual dwelling place? And still more, who are those
who put into practice what they learn there, and recognize no half
measures in their determination to conform themselves to the mind
of Christ? [44] Such Christians are indeed rare.
Most persons have not even the slightest idea of the spirit of
Jesus. Others are afraid of knowing too much about it, because
they know they would have to conform their lives to it. Others are
willing to imitate (but how imperfectly) some of its features, but
will not walk with Him the whole way.
What really was the mind of Christ; the spirit which gives us
light, and guides us in the way of salvation? It was a perfectly
interior spirit, by which He was constantly united to the Father,
entirely devoted to His glory and to His good pleasure. It was a
spirit lifted infinitely beyond all perishable pleasures, riches
and honours, leading Him to choose and embrace poverty and
obscurity, toil and suffering, humiliations and opprobrium in the
extreme. [45] It was a spirit detached from all natural affections
and feelings, always and in all things dependent upon grace, and
so submissive to its workings as never to think or will or desire
or do anything apart from it. It was a spirit over which the
divinity, to which His humanity was hypostatically united,
exercised perfect sway, boundless authority, and a constant
influence. It was a spirit which never permitted Him to think of
His own interests, His own glory. It attributed nothing to
Himself, and never permitted Him one glance of self-complacency to
the unique and infinite dignity to which He was raised by the
hypostatic union, but which He maintained in a state of perfect
devotedness to His Father's interests, [46] of unreserved
sacrifice to the claims of divine justice, of utter humility, and
continual self-effacement.
This is the spirit of Christ which, as Christians, we are bound to
make our own. [47] It is in this respect, above all, that as head
of the elect Jesus is given to us as our model. God wanted to show
us in Him what we ought to be. It was as our example that the
eternal Word deigned to assume our nature, and if we would be His
disciples we must follow in His steps. [48] Some persons excuse
themselves by saying that Jesus was God. But it is not as God but
as man that He offers Himself for our imitation. We shall never
attain to the perfections of the divine original: we know that,
and it would be impiously absurd to try to do so. But all must
endeavour to respond to the graces given them, just as Jesus
responded to His. That is all God asks; but He also asks no less.
It may also be suggested that because Jesus was God everything was
easy to Him, that it cost Him nothing. It is true that He could
not sin, nor could He resist grace. It is also true that He found
no obstacle within Him to any virtue whatsoever. But it is also
true that He habitually endured sufferings infinitely more
distressing than those of all the martyrs and saints put together,
and this because His human nature was overwhelmed and crushed
under the terrible weight of the divine justice. As God-man He
certainly felt and suffered all that a God-man could feel and
suffer. God does nothing in vain, and in the great design of the
Incarnation and the redemption of mankind, all was ruled and
measured by infinite wisdom and justice. What the Father required
of the Son was proportioned to the grace and strength given Him.
Yet if the sight of so perfect a pattern terrifies us in our
cowardice, let us turn our eyes on mere men. On St. Paul, for
instance, who called on Christians to be followers of him as he
was of Christ. [49] Study the mind of the apostle in his epistles,
and seek to make it a model for your own conduct. You will tell me
that he was a man converted by an extraordinary grace, a chosen
vessel, concerning whom God had special designs, and on whom He
lavished His gifts. I would answer that St. Paul was sanctified
neither by his apostleship nor by his election. He was sanctified
by his correspondence with God's grace, and it is in this, and
this only, that you are asked to imitate him. What is there to
hinder you? Was not St. Paul a blasphemer and a persecutor when
God threw him to the ground? When grace, then, calls to you, say
as he said: Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do? [50] And then do
the bidding of grace as faithfully as he did.
Would you have patterns more within your reach? Then read the
lives of the saints, of all ages, of all ranks, and of all
conditions. Many retained their baptismal innocence; other had
been great sinners, subject to the same passions, the same habits,
the same temptations as ourselves, and often greater. They had as
many or more obstacles to surmount, and it is remarkable that the
Church never won more saints than in those early ages when to
profess Christianity was a pledge of martyrdom.
But you will complain that they were saints. What other models
would you have? What are you called to, except to sanctity such as
theirs? They were sanctified only because they were true disciples
of Jesus Christ, and by following the spirit, the teaching and the
example of their Master.
But whence do these vain objections come? From our purely natural
spirit, and nothing reveals more clearly how blind it is. In all
the imitative arts, it is always the best models that are sought,
studied with the greatest care, and painstakingly copied. Why
should we complain, then, in this most important of all the arts
that our models are too perfect when what is at stake is the right
conduct of our lives, and our well-being in God's eyes, which is
to make us worthy of His eternal possession? What a contradiction!
We refuse to put on the spirit of Christ, because it means putting
off our own. But so long as men will not give up their purely
natural spirit or the spirit of private judgment they must give up
the idea of being true Christians. For there is no genuine and
practical Christianity except that which consists in thinking and
acting in conformity with the spirit of Christ.
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