Part 2
Now mark, dear children, that the path of a man thus dying may be divided into three stages. Those who have entered on the lowest stage do acts of self-denial from fear of hell and for the hope of heaven, with some
love to God mingled therewith, which leads them to shun the most flagrant sins; but the love of God seldom works strongly in them, except it be stirred up by the contemplation of hell or heaven: for by reason of their blind self-love these men are terribly afraid of death, and are by no means eager to set their hand to the work of mortifying their undisciplined nature which shrinks from it; and they have little faith, which is the cause of this timorous weakness, that leads them to be ever fearing for their own safety; thus, just as formerly they sought and loved themselves in all kinds of carnal enjoyments and worldly vanities, and avoided bodily pain and inconvenience out of self-love, so now is the same motive at work, leading them to shun sin on account of punishment, in order to escape hell and obtain the rewards of heaven. And when they are still young in the love of God, they are apt to taste little sweetness in loving God, save when they hope to enjoy something from His love; as, for instance to escape hell and get to heaven; and if sometimes they meditate on the Sufferings of our Lord, and weep over them with strong emotion, it is because they think how He was willing to suffer so much for their sakes, and to redeem them by His bitter Death, still (because their love is small) they are much more inclined to dwell upon the bodily sufferings that He endured in His human nature, than to reflect how He manifested by His death the highest perfection of all virtue, as humility, love and patience, and in that so greatly glorified His Heavenly Father. For this sort of persons set out and begin to die while as yet they love themselves far too well; hence they are not yet able to see truly what it is to resign themselves to God, and to maintain a spirit of submission; and, although God does all things for the best, yet this they will never believe, and it is a perpetual stumbling-block to them. Thus they often ask and wonder why our Lord chose to suffer so much and why He leads his friends and followers to himself along such a path of suffering. And when they are at the beginning of a dying life, and only half-way inclined towards true perfection, nor perceive as yet wherein this consists, they oft-times torment themselves with watching and fasting and an austere way of life; for whatever is outwardly painful to the flesh they fancy to be greatly and mightily regarded and prized by God. So, when they eagerly take upon themselves all the hardships they can, then they think they have reached the summit of perfection, and judge all other men, nay, even those who are much more perfect then
themselves, and think meanly of all who do not practice outward austerities, calling them low-minded and ignorant in spiritual things; and those who do not feel as they do they think to have gone astray altogether from a spiritual course and desire that all men should be as they are: and whatever methods of avoiding sin they have practised and still make use of by reason of their infirmity, they desire, nay, demand that everyone else should observe; and, if any do not do so, they judge them and murmur at them, and say that they pay no regard to religion.
Now, while they thus keep themselves and all that belongs to them as it were working in their own service, and in this self-love unduly regard themselves as their own property, they cut themselves off from our Lord, and from the universal charity. For they ought to cherish continually a general love toward all men, both good and bad; but they remain absorbed in their partial and separate affections, whereby they bring upon themselves much disquiet, and remain a prey to their besetting sin of always seeking and studying themselves. And they are very niggardly of their spiritual blessings towards their fellow Christians; for they devote all their prayers and religious exercises to their own behalf; and, if they pray or do any other kind act for others, they think it a great thing, and fancy they have done them a great service thereby. In short, as they look little within, and are so little enlightened in the knowledge of themselves, so also they make little increase in the love of God and their neighbour; for they are so entangled with unregulated affections that they live alone in heart, not thoroughly commingling their soul with any in the right sort of thorough love. For the love of God, which ought to unite them to God and all mankind, is wanting in them; and, although they appear to keep the ordinances of God and of Holy Church, they do not keep the law of Love. What they do is more out of constraint and fear than from hearty love; and, because they are inwardly unfaithful to God, they dare not trust Him; for the imperfection which they find in themselves makes a flaw in their love to God. Hence their whole life is full of care, full of toil and ignoble misery; for they see eternal life on the one side, and fear to lose it, and they see hell on the other, and fear to fall into it; and all their prayers and religious exercises cannot chase away their fear of hell, so long as they do not die to themselves. For the more they love themselves and take counsel for their own welfare, the more the fear
of hell grows upon them; insomuch that, when God does not help them forward as much as they wish, they complain; and they weep and sigh at every little difficulty they encounter, however small, such as being tempted to vanity, wandering thoughts, and the like. They make long stories of what is of no consequence, and talk about their great difficulties and sufferings, as if they were grievously wronged; for they esteem their works, although small, to be highly meritorious, and that God Almighty owes them great honour and blessings in return. But our Lord will tell them (as He does in fact afterwards, when He has enlightened them with His grace) a poor fool loves his own wooden stick, or any other little worthless article, as much as a rich and wise man loves his sword, or any other great and precious thing.
All such are standing on the lowest steps of a mortified life; and, if they do not die to themselves more, and come to experience more of what a mortified life is, it is to be feared that they will fall back from that little they have attained to, and may plunge into depths of folly and wickedness, from which God keep us all! But before a man comes to such a fall, God gives him great spiritual delight; and upon this he is so greatly rejoiced that he cheerfully endures all sorts of austerities and penances; and then he weeps that he has arrived at perfection, and begins to judge his neighbours, and wants to shape all men after his own model, so greatly does he esteem himself in his own conceits.
Then God comes in His mercy to teach him what he is, and shows him into what error he has fallen and permits the Enemy to set before him and make him taste the sweetness of sin; and then, when he has thus tasted, he conceives an inclination to one sin after another, and he cannot rid himself of these inclinations. Then he wishes to flee sin that he may escape hell, and begins to do outward good works; and yet it is a dreadful toil to perform these good works as a mere labour, and to put himself to pain; thus he is brought into an agonizing struggle with himself, and does not know which way to turn; for he dimly sees that he has gone astray. Then must God of His mercy come and raise him up, and he shall cry earnestly to God for help; and his chief meditation shall be on the Life and Works and especially the Sufferings of our Lord Jesus Christ.
The second degree in which the grain of wheat dies is when a man is called upon to endure insult, contempt, and such-like deaths; and, so long as his grace lasts, he would fain continue to suffer; for by the sense of undeserved injury all his powers are but quickened and raised into a higher state of activity. But when he is bereft of this gracious sense of the Divine Presence, forasmuch as he is still far from perfection, he cannot bear up under this spiritual destitution, and, through his infirmity, falls a prey to mistrust of God, and fancies that God has forsaken him, and is not willing to help him towards perfection. Often he is in a hundred minds what to do or not do; and, if our Lord show him some kindness, then he feels as if all were well between his soul and God, and he feels himself so rich, as if he could never more be poor, and thinks to enjoy the Presence and Savour of God (though s yet he is quite untried); just as if the Almighty were his own personal, special Friend; and he is ready to believe that our Lord is, so to speak, at his disposal, will comfort him in adversity, and enrich him with all virtues. But, forasmuch as our gracious Lord sees that such a man will be very apt to rely upon his imagined powers, and thus to fall grievously, and sees also that the best and ripest fruit is being lost, inasmuch as the man has not yet attained to that perfection to which our Lord desires to lead him, therefore in due tine He withdraws from him all that He had revealed to him, because the man was too much occupied with himself, with thinking about his own perfection, wisdom, holiness and virtues; He thus brings him through poverty to dissatisfaction with himself, and a humble acknowledgement that he has neither wisdom nor worthiness; then does he begin to reflect within himself how justly Almighty God has stayed His hand from bestowing any sensible tokens of His mercy, because he fancied that he was something; now he sees clearly that he is nothing. He was wont to care for his good name and honour in the world, and to defend them as a man stands up for his wedded wife, and to count them who spoke evil of him as enemies to the common good. He was wont to desire and thirst after the reputation of holiness, like a meadow after the dew of heaven. He weaned that men's praises of him and proceeded altogether from real goodness and sympathy of heart, and by God's ordination, and had wandered so far from self-knowledge as not to see that he was in himself unsound from head to foot; he fancied that he was really as he stood in man's opinion, and knew nothing to the contrary.
Here we must mark that he who wishes to heal himself of such-like grievous mistakes, and subdue such an unmortified nature, must take note of three points in himself. First, how much he has striven to endure cheerfully, for the sake of goodness, all the rebuke, slander and shame that has come upon him, patiently enduring it in his heart without outward complaint. Secondly, how much in the time of his rebuke, shame and distress he has praised and glorified God and his fellow-men, and shown kindness to his neighbour in all ways, in spite of all contradiction against himself. Thirdly, let him examine himself whether he have loved with cheerful and willing heart the men or creatures who have thus persecuted him, and sincerely prayed for them; and, if he finds that he has not done so, and is unwilling to do so, but is hard and bitter in his grief, then he may surely know, and ought to feel certain, that there is something false in him, and some resting in the praise of men and in his own spiritual pride, and that he is not dead. He has not yet come to the second step in a dying life.
But our kind Lord, like a tender mother who is full of love, or a wise physician who desires to restore a sick man to perfect health by his powerful remedies, suffers him to fall many times that he may learn to know himself; and thus he falls into fleshly unspiritual temptations, such as he never experienced in those past days, in which he fancied himself very good and spiritual-minded. Our of mercy God deprives him of all understanding, and overclouds all the light in which he walked before, and so hedges him in with thorns of an anguished conscience, that he thinks nothing else but that he is cast off from the light of God's countenance; and he moans greatly, and often with many tears exclaims: "O my God, why have you cast me off, and why do I go thus mourning all the days of my pilgrimage?"
And when he finds himself thus, from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, unlike God and at variance with Him, he is filled with the sense of his own unworthiness, and with displeasure at himself, insomuch that he can hardly abide himself; and then he thinks many miserable things about himself from passages of Holy Scripture, and sheds many tears in the sense of his sinfulness, till he is weighed down to
the earth with the pressure of God's hand, and exclaims with the prophet: "My sins are more in number than the sands of the sea; they have taken hold upon me that I am not able to look up; for I have stirred up God's anger against me, and done much evil in His sight." These things he says, and more the like. And at times he is not even able thus to weep and lament, and then he is still more tormented with tribulation and assaults; for on the one hand he feels a strong desire to cast himself down humbly, and die to himself, and on the other he is conscious of great pride and arrogance about himself, till he is so exasperated at himself that, but for the dishonour to God, he would fain kill himself. I believe that all such conflict greatly wears out the intellectual and natural powers for it is so excessive, that one would rather suffer oneself to be put to death than endure it. Yet one grace is left him, namely, that he looks on it all as of no moment, whatever may be poured out over him, if only he may not knowingly offend God. After a while the grace of tears comes back to him, and he cried to God and says: "O Lord, rise, why do you sleep?" and asks Him why He has sealed up the fountains of His mercy; he calls upon the holy Angels and blessed spirits to have pity on him. He asks the heavens why they have become as brass, and the earth wherefore she is as iron, and beseeches the very stones to have compassion on his woes. He exclaims: "Am I become as the blasted hill of Gilboa, which was cursed of David that no rain or dew should fall on it? And how should my wickedness alone vanquish the invisible God, and force Him to shut up His mercies, Whose property it is to have mercy and to help?"
In the second stage of the dying life God leads the soul through these exercises and operations of His hand, as through fire and water by turns, until the workings of self-sufficiency are driven out from all the secret corners of the spirit, and the man henceforward is so utterly ashamed of himself, and so casts himself off, that he can never more ascribe any greatness to himself, but thoroughly perceives all his own weakness, in which he now is and always has been; and whatever he does or desires to do, or whatever good thing may be said of him, he does not take it to his own credit, for he knows not how to say anything of himself but that he is full of all manner of infirmity. Then he has reached the end of this stage; and he who has arrived at this point is not far from the threshold of great mercies, by which he shall enter into the Bride-chamber of Christ. Then,
when the day of his death shall come, he shall be brought in by the Bridegroom with great rejoicing.
It is hard to die. We know that little trees do not strike their roots deep into the earth, and therefore they cannot stand long; so it is with all humble hearts, who do not take deep root in earth, but in heaven. But the great trees which have waxed high, and are intended to endure long upon the earth, these strike their roots deep, and spread them out wide into the soil. So it is with the men who in old times and now at this present have been great upon earth; they must needs through many a struggle and death die to themselves, before all the self-sufficiency of their heart can be broken down, and they can be surely and firmly rooted for ever in humility. It does however happen sometimes that the Holy Spirit finds easier ways than those of which we have spoken, whereby He brings such souls to Himself.
The third degree in which the grain of wheat dies belongs only to the perfect, who with unflagging diligence and ceaseless desire are ever striving to approach perfection. These men's state is one of mingled joy and sorrow, whereby they are tossed up and down; for the Holy Spirit is trying and sifting them, and preparing them for perfection with two kinds of grief and two kinds of joy and happiness which they have ever in their sight. The first grief is an inward pain and an overwhelming sorrow of heart, in the sense of the unspeakable wrong done to the Holy Trinity by all creatures, and specially by the bad Christians, who are living in mortal sin. The second grief consists in their fellow-feeling for and experience of all the grief and pain which the Human Nature of Christ has undergone.
The first of the two joys lies in this dying; it is clear intuition and a perfect fruition to which they are raised in Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit, that they may enjoy the fruition of Him, and triumph in all the joys which they hope and believe after this life to behold in all their perfect fullness. The second triumph is that they are fulfilled in all the joys which the Human Nature of Christ possessed. This joy such a man hopes to share as a member of Christ; and, even if he cannot fathom the Abyss of God, he rejoices therein, for he sees that the overflowings of
God's mercy are unspeakable, and feels that it is good for him that he is vanquished in the effort to comprehend God's power, and bends down beneath God in his self-dying.
To this state a man cannot attain except he unite his will with God, with an entire renunciation and perfect denial of himself and all selfish love of himself; and all delight in having his own will be over-mastered and quenched by the shedding abroad in his heart of the Holy Spirit in the Love of God; so that it seems as if the Holy Spirit Himself were the man's will and love, and he were nothing and willed nothing on his own account. Yea, even the Kingdom of Heaven he shall desire for God's sake and God's glory, because Christ has earned it in order to supply his needs, and chooses to bestow it on him as one of His sons. When in this stage, a man loves all things in their right order, God above all things - next the blessed (Human) Nature of Christ, and after that the blessed Mother of Christ, and the Saints of all degrees, each according to the rank which God has enabled him to attain. When his affections are thus regulated, he sets himself in the lowest place at the wedding-feast of the Bridegroom. And when the Bridegroom comes Who has bidden him to the feast, He says to him: "Friend, go up higher." Then he is endowed with a new life, and illuminated with a new light, in the which he clearly perceives and sees that he alone is the cause of his own evil, that he cannot with truth throw the blame either on nature, the world, or the devil. Yea, he confesses that God has appointed him all these exercises and assaults out of His great love, in order that he may glorify God in overcoming these, and deserve a higher crown. Further, he perceives and sees that it is God alone Who has upheld him and stayed his steps, so that he has no longer an inclination to sin, and Who has removed the occasion to sin that he might not fall. Yea, what is still worse, he is forced to confess that he has often been dissatisfied that he was not able to derive more enjoyment from his sins. Thus all his being is swallowed up in sorrow and remorse for that he is still laden with his boundless infirmity.
But he has delight and joy in that he sees that the goodness of God is as great as his necessities, so that his life may well be called a dying life, by reason of such his griefs and joys which are conformable and like the Life of our Lord Jesus Christ, which from beginning to end was always made
up of mingled grief and joy. Grief, in that he left His heavenly throne and came down into this world; joy, in that He was not severed from the glory and honour of the Father. Grief, in that He was a Son of Man; joy, in that He nevertheless was and remained the Son of God. Grief, because He took upon Him the office of servant; joy, in that He was nevertheless a great Lord. Grief, because in human nature He was mortal, and died upon the Cross; joy, because He was immortal according to His Godhead. Grief, in His birth, in that He was once born of His Mother; joy, in that He is the only-begotten of God's Heart from everlasting to everlasting. Grief, because He became in time subject to time; joy, because He was eternal before all time, and shall be so for ever. Grief, in that the Word was born into the flesh, and has dwelt in us; joy, in that the Word was in the beginning with God, and God Himself was the Word. Grief, in that it was necessary for Him to be baptised like any human sinner by St John the Baptist in the Jordan; joy, in that the voice of His Heavenly Father said of Him: "This is my beloved Son in Whom I am well pleased." Grief, in that like others, sinners, He was tempted of the Enemy; joy, in that the Angels came and ministered to Him. Grief, in that He often endured hunger and thirst; joy, because He Himself the Lord of men and Angels. Grief, in that He was often wearied with His labours; joy, because He is the rest of all loving hearts and blessed spirits. Grief, forasmuch as His holy life and sufferings should remain in vain for so many human beings; joy, because He should thereby save His friends. Grief, in that He must needs ask to drink water of the heathen woman at the well; joy, in that He gave to that same woman to drink of living water, so that she should never thirst again. Grief, in that He was wont to sail in ships over the sea; joy, because He was wont to walk dry-shod over the waves. Grief, in that He wept with Martha and Mary over Lazarus; joy, in that He raised their brother Lazarus from the dead. Grief, in that He was nailed to the Cross with nails; joy, in that He promised Paradise to the thief by His side. Grief, in that He thirsted when hanging on the Cross; joy, in that He should thereby redeem His elect from eternal thirst. Grief, when He said: "My God, My God, why have you forsaken Me?" joy, in that He would with these words comfort all sad hearts. Grief, in that His soul was parted from His body; and He died and was buried; joy, because on the third day He rose again from the dead with a glorified body.
Thus was all His life, from the Manger to the Cross, a mingled web of grief and joy. Which life He has left as a sacred testament to His followers in this present time, who are converted to His dying life, that they may remember Him when they drink of His cup, and walk as He has walked. May God help us so to do! Amen.
SERMON V; On St John the Evangelist's day
How men must receive all that God gives, and ordains for those who truly seek him in all things, as from His Hand, and as for the best. How willingly God gives great gifts, when, in lowliness of mind, we esteem ourselves of small repute; and how all things are as nothing without God.
"This is that disciple whom Jesus loved."
Dear children, though God is no respecter of persons, and loves all the things that He has made, still He has His Friends (those who are most conscious of His favour, and turn to Him with all their might) who are especially dear to Him; and it is not His fault that all men do not turn to Him of their own free will. He is always ready to receive us; and He lets the sun of His grace shine on the good and on the evil.
Now St John especially was conscious of the grace of God from his youth, and was always the dearly loved disciple of our Lord, on account of his virginal purity, his perfect love, his keen vision, and all his other virtues. If therefore we would be the dear disciples of God, we must first follow St John by dying wholly to ourselves, by resigning ourselves and all our affections to God; and by receiving all things from His hand; we must deny ourselves all pleasure in the love of created things apart from God. Those men who thus resign themselves, and submit entirely to God, seek earnestly all that God gives them; for it is, and it seems to them the best. you may (as truly as God lives) be certain that it must of necessity be the very best, and that no other way could be better than it is, though another might appear so; yet it would not be so good for you, for God has chosen this and no other way; therefore it must needs be the best. It may be sickness, poverty, hunger or thirst; whatever it may be that God ordains or does not ordain, it is still the best for you. It may be devotion
or fervour, or that you are to possess neither, as long as it is not caused by your own neglect; only make up your mind to seek God's honour in all things, in all that you have or have not, then all that He sends you will be for the best.
Now you might say perhaps: "How do I know whether it is the will of God or not?" Know this, that if it were not the will of God, it could not happen. you have neither days of sickness, nor anything else, except it be the will of God. Now, if you know it is God's will, you ought to have so much pleasure and delight therein, that you would not heed pain as pain, even though it were extreme. It would be wrong for you to be sensible of pain or suffering; for you oughtest to accept it from God as the very best for you. It is His very life, to desire only the best; therefore I ought to desire it, and nothing ought to please me better. Now, if there were a man whom I was most desirous to please, and I knew for certain that I should please him better in a gray garb than in any other, however good it might be, that gray garb would seem to be more desirable than any other though it were ever so good. Oh! take heed to yourselves, see how your love is fashioned! If you truly loved God, nothing would delight you more than doing what pleased Him best, and desiring that His will should be fully accomplished in us. However severe pain and discomfort may seem, if you have not as great delight in them as in comfort and pleasure, all is not well with you.
There is one thing which I am wont to say constantly, and which is also true, that we cry out every day and say in the Lord's Prayer: "Lord, Your Will be done!" but then we feel angry, and are not so content with His will as that all He does should seem for the best. They who do accept it as the best, are kept in perfect peace in all things. Now, sometimes you say: "Oh! if it had only been otherwise it would have been better," or, "if it had not happened thus it might have happened better." As long as you are of this mind, you will never attain to peace; you must accept all as the very best.
Now, mark, God is the Giver of all gifts, and all things that are best and highest are His real and most peculiar gifts. God gives nothing so willingly as great gifts, for it is natural to Him to give great things; therefore, the better things are, the more of them there are, the noblest
creatures, the Angels, are especially wise; they have no bodily nature, and there are more of them in number than of all other created beings. Great things are really great gifts; and they are what I can best make my own and most desire.
I speak also of what may actually be expressed in word, and which must come out from within quite freely; it must not come from without into the heart; but that must come out from within, which really dwells in the inmost heart. There all things are present to you, and live and move and have their being, in Him, who is the Holy and Sovereign God. Why dost you not find it thus? Because you are not at home there. The nobler a thing is, the commoner it is. I have my natural sense in common with animals; and life in common with trees; and my being, which is still more to me, in common with all creatures. Heaven is more than all that is thereby; therefore it is also nobler. The nobler things are, the commoner they are. Love is noble, because it is universal. It seems hard to do what our Lord has commanded, and to love our neighbours as ourselves. Common people say, "We ought to love them as we love God; for we love ourselves too well." But no, it should be otherwise. We must therefore love them very much, just as we love ourselves; and this is not hard; for, if you would only see it, this command is more of a reward than a command. A command seems hard, but a reward is desirable. He, who loves God as he ought to love Him, yea, and as he must love Him, whether he will or no, and as all creatures love Him, must love his neighbour as himself. He must joy in his joys, as though they were his own; he must be as desirous for his honour as though it were his own; and he must treat a stranger as though he were dear to him. Then that man will be always rejoicing, always useful, and always honourable. It will seem like heaven to him; and he will have far more joy, than if he rejoiced only in his own good.
Now, know of a truth, that if your own honour is of more importance to you, and dearer than that of another man, you doest wrongfully. Know this, that if you seek something that is your own, you seek not God only; and you will never find Him. you are acting as though you made a candle of God to seek for something; and, when you have found it, you cast the candle away. Therefore, when you do this, what you seek with God,
whatever it may be, it is nothing; gain, reward, fervour, or whatever it may be, you seek nothing, therefore will you find nothing. There is no other cause for finding nothing, but that you seek nothing. All creatures are absolutely nothing. That which has no being is nothing. And creatures have no being, because they have their being in God; if God turned away for a moment, they would cease to exist. He who desired to have all the world with God, would have nothing more than if he had God alone. All creatures have, without God, nothing more than a man has, who has a mite, or absolutely nothing, without Him; neither more nor less.
Listen, I beseech you, to a true saying. A man might give a thousand marks to build churches and monasteries, and it would be a great gift; but he who cares nothing for a thousand marks has done more and given more. When God created all creatures, they were so vile and mean that He could not live and move in them. Then He made the soul of man, like to and in harmony with Himself, that to him He might give Himself; for all else that He gave him, man heeded not. God must give Himself to me as my own, as He is in Himself, or I have nothing and care for nothing. He, who would receive God in full measure, must give himself wholly to God; he must go our of himself. He will receive the like from God, all that He has as his own, as God Himself has it, and as He has given it to our Lady and to all that are in heaven. Those who have thus gone forth, and have given themselves, shall also, all alike, receive all in all and nothing less.
Now know, that of ourselves, we have nothing; for this and all other gifts are from above. Therefore he who would receive from above, must of necessity place himself beneath, in true humility. And know of a truth, that if he leave anything out, so that all is not beneath, he will have nothing and receive nothing. Dost you trust to yourself, or to anything else, or anybody else? you are not beneath, and will receive nothing; but if you have placed yourself beneath, then you will receive all things fully. It is God's nature to give; and He lives and moves that He may give to us when we are humble. If we are not lowly, and yet desire to receive, we do Him violence, and kill Him, so to speak; and, though we may not wish to do this, yet we do it, as far as in us lies. That you may truly give Him all things, see to it, that you cast yourself in deep humility at the Feet of God, and beneath all created beings; that you exalt God in your heart, and that
you confess Him. The Lord our God sent His only-begotten Son into the world. God sent His Son in the fulness of time, for the sake of our souls, and that we might be filled with Him. When a soul is freed from place and time, the Father sends His Son into that soul to be born there. Nothing can hinder God in us, or us in God, if in our hearts we neither hang on to, nor cleave to time and place, nor exalt ourselves above time and place in Eternity, which is God Himself. Amen.
SERMON VI; Of the Feast of the Holy Virgin St Agnes
How outward purity of body, and inner chastity of mind, may be attained and preserved. Especially, how purity of mind may be preserved, in spite of the outward attacks of human love and imaginations; and that no man, however spiritually minded he may be, can ever be sure, while he is still here in the body, that his frail nature has been completely killed, so that he can never be tempted to impurity. Of three snares that are laid for those who are spiritually minded, into which they may fall and against which they must guard themselves, be they never so perfect.
"A virgin thinks on the things of the Lord, that she may be holy both in body and spirit."
A virgin, says St Paul, thinks and meditates on the things of the Lord, that she may be holy in body and soul. Four things are needful for virgins, that they may be pure in body and pure in spirit. To purity of body pertain spotlessness of the flesh, and moderation in the use of all bodily necessaries, in eating or drinking, sleeping or waking. A virgin must refrain from talking; she must be modest in all her ways; she must abstain from mixing in dissolute society or amusements, and be lowly and simple in her daily life; industrious in good and seemly work, or in works of penance and such-like; for all these things tend to external chastity. He who seeks to perfect or preserve his chastity in any other way, will find he has been deceived; for what is visible must be visibly overcome; or else the impurity of the flesh will overcome the purity of the spirit. It is plain that he who tries to tame the flesh by the flesh will not effect much. And now we will say no more of this, but say a little about the chastity of the spirit, how it may be lost or preserved; and this
is a useful subject, which all those who are spiritually minded will do well to consider and remember.
Purity of spirit consists in a clean, pure and humble conscience; for a humble conscience is a pure mind and a clean heart. A pure mind is to be gained by exercise in the Holy Scriptures. From thence come holy meditations which fill the heart of man; and therefore it is the sooner freed from all vain and wicked thoughts. Be sure, nothing doubting, that the man, who devotes himself to diligent study of the Holy Scriptures, will be preserved and guarded from the grosser temptations to impurity. This is shown by St Jerome, when he says: "Love to search the Scriptures, and then you will not care for the lusts of the flesh, nor delight in them." But a clean heart must be gained by driving out all desire for the creature, and especially for man; for a good and holy man is so easily grieved and disturbed in his heart by the inordinate love of man, that it often takes him a long time to drive out that love from his heart, which had entered in a moment. Therefore, unless man shuns the causes which minister to the flesh, he can get no further, and he must receive a hurt that will grieve him. It is here that man is most easily wounded, on account of his natural short-sightedness, which is so deeply rooted in inordinate desire, that he will be kept occupied all the days of his life; though many a man, who does not realize it, is as bold and joyful as though he had conquered in every strife and had overcome.
Now, dear children, though you had conquered in a thousand fights, and had gained the victory, you must not trust to it; for as long as body and soul are joined together, to none is freedom assured on earth. That which may not happen in a hundred years, often comes in one moment; so that many a good and pure man has been tempted and led astray in such a manner that he hardly knew how it came about. Not that such men are spotted by outward deeds, or fall into open carnal sins, though sometimes even this occurs; but then they are molested by the charm of evil desire, dangerous, transitory and carnal love, which darkens their understanding and judgment, and the fervour which they had before experienced; and they are cast into a hell of distress and scorn, and feel the gnawings of conscience. Thus man seems to be going to the gates of hell and of external darkness, just like one who is about to be killed, and,
who in great fear and horror of death, loses his senses and reason. This comes from lack of watchfulness; but it is at times also ordained by God, that the man may ground himself in true humility, and may learn to know his own infirmity, and may be able to feel for other men in theirs. This is especially the case with those who afflict themselves, in order to overcome and to kill the inner, reasoning and upright man, because they long to attain to absolute poverty of spirit. It is necessary that they, more than all men, should guard themselves in the presence of those who are unlike them. For the Tempter, who never rests, does not forget his cunning when he finds a good opportunity. Now if such men strive diligently to destroy the inner man absolutely, and to walk in all singleness of heart, they will exert themselves to overcome all inner troubles, so that they may uncomplainingly and unresistingly submit themselves to God in all things, whenever and however it may please Him. They must not endeavour to get their own way in His work, but must desire that His will may be done, without any choosing on their part. See, by this means, man will attain to such simplicity of heart, and such peace, both outwardly and inwardly, and also in his nature, that he will be scarcely conscious of any resistance in himself. Neither is he conscious of any shame, nor yet of the burden of a guilty conscience; and, to use a simile, it seems as though he had returned to his original ignorance and innocence, and were like a young child who follows the dictates of nature without shame. In the same way a child might thus naturally go his own way, and grow up, according to nature, taking no care or pains to tame his unruly passions. Thus it would come to pass that his passions would grow stronger and stronger; and, as understanding and desire increased, sin also would increase. This might also happen to a pure and spiritually-minded man, however child-like his innocence might be, who had long lived a life of seclusion, and who seemed to have so conquered his outer and lower nature that he was scarcely conscious at any time of temptation, either sleeping or waking; and who, were the occasion to arise, or where he incited to it, would take no pleasure in it, but would imagine he could easily withstand all these attacks and temptations. Yea, it would even seem to him as though for him in such things, than there would be for a man who was dead; in seeing, hearing, speaking, or in anything else possible. Now see, nature seems quite dead; and yet none should put their trust in it, either men or
women, however sure of themselves they may be, and even satisfied as to their condition. Now, however perfect and holy the man in truth may be, however dead he may seem to all these things, if he will not flee from temptations, his heart will of necessity be wounded by sensual desires; and it will be agitated and tempted by the love of a friend, more for one than for another.
Now mark, dear children, how this takes place, and how by degrees man falls into such snares. First of all, love is felt for people on account of their grace, their piety and their spirituality; and this is all-sufficing to the heart, and seems to be all spiritual, and is accepted with great thankfulness to God and to these men. If man does not continue to strive to chase away these emotions, the longing creeps in to show these people outwardly a little kindness out of pure friendliness. He recognises them by pleasant words and gestures, by laughing and bowing, by touching their clothes, or taking them by the hand, or embracing them, or by bowing the head to them, and by many such like things. These are all signs of natural human love, and show that the heart has been wounded by unregulated love. It may be, if the man does not shun it, that he will be still more deeply wounded; and it may go so far, that spiritual pleasure is turned into carnal pleasure; and the man, thus entangled in this net of the devil's and of carnal desires, cannot easily escape from it without great injury and danger of sin in his heart. Yea, it may even go so far that he dallies with such pleasure till at last he consents to it; and that would be a sin to death; and, if even then he did not become conscious of it, he might fall into great spiritual sin without any opposition on his part.
See, dear children, a good man may thus fall into all kinds of sin, if he does not at once resist the temptation. Yea, and even though he had attained to the highest and most perfect state of virtue, if he does not flee from these sins, he may stand in great danger from them, greater danger than he was ever in before. Never was it more necessary for him to shun them than it would be now; for no one is free from these temptations and incitements, as long as his breath is in his body; and, however holy he may be, it is possible for him to fall into sin and to endanger his salvation, unless he keeps watch over himself.
As all teachers point out to us, three snares are laid for the spirituallyminded, into which they may fall. The first is a man's holiness. The second is when people are of one family, and belong to each other by birth and nature, or are related, that as being brothers and sisters, and so forth. The third snare is personal holiness, and that in the long practice of virtue, so that the occasion of sin is not shunned. This carnal affection sometimes exists between persons of different sex, between a man and a woman. They fall in love with each other, and seek distraction and diversion together, asking each other how they are, and about their station and place in life. You will see that this must in the end bring trouble and come to a bad end, and cause sorrow and heaviness of heart. This is especially the case when people of unequal rank start such a friendship together. This cannot be tolerated by anyone with a good conscience; for thence arise contempt, suspicion, irritation and the destruction of inner spiritual peace. Therefore all those who are obliged by necessity, or their office, to speak to people who are not of the same rank as themselves, must do so as little as possible, and go away as soon as possible; and this will be good for their own consciences, and also for their inferiors or equals, who will be the less angered or tempted thereby. Whoever, therefore, wishes to be preserved in such a case, or from other sins, must, as Bonaventura says, seat himself and speak openly, as though he wished everyone to see how he treats such persons, and that he no more desires to carry on improper relations with them than with anyone else. Neither must he set his heart on any other person, to such a degree that he is absorbed in that person. He must never be outwardly too friendly to anyone, especially to people of different sex, either in kindly or spiritual intercourse; but he must behave gravely towards them, and hurry straight away, exchanging only short words with them.
Now you see, dear children, that if even a good and pious man can thus fall into unchastity from such causes as I have mentioned, how it will be with those who, either in thought, or will, or deed, do not tear themselves away from all such temptations, and who are not ready to die to all superfluity, pleasure, effeminacy, fastidiousness and unruly mirth, and to all the other causes of sin that are evident. Oh! if even a good man is thus tempted to impurity, how will it be with a man who is dilatory, wilful,
fastidious, lazy and idle, dull and dead to all spiritual things? Will he not revel in them and be corrupted? This is known alone to the Lord God, Who tries the motives and the hearts. But may God have mercy upon us, poor sinners, and preserve us from those troublesome snares of unchastity; that we may be found pure and clean in His sight, in body and soul; pure in conscience; from from all vain thoughts and from all evil desires; resting not in the creature, but in God only, and loving Him alone and above all things. May God help us thereto. Amen.
SERMON VII; Our Lady's Candle-Mass
How we may offer ourselves, night and day, to God in holy discipline; in prayer, in meditation, in beholding God, and by thanking God and praising Him; thereby following the example of the blessed Mother of God.
"Behold I send My Angel, and he shall prepare the way before My Face. And presently the Lord, Whom you seek, and the Angel of the Testament, Whom you desire, shall come to His temple."
To-day we would commemorate the fact, that the Lord, to Whom all time belongs, and by Whom the Law was made, subjected Himself to time and law, and offered Himself for us in the temple of His heavenly Father. It was not necessary that He, like any other firstborn son, should be sanctified; for all holy seasons and festivals, places and temples, are made holy by Him. Neither was it necessary for His blessed Mother to be purified, like other women, for she was shielded from all sin, and conceived and bare the Son of God by the operation of the Holy Ghost, remaining ever a virgin and adorned with all purity. Her purity was much greater than that of all Angels; for it is impossible to imagine greater purity apart from God. And yet she also subjected herself to the austere law, and offered her dear Child to the heavenly Father at the hands of the priest, and herself, not her Son, as a living sacrifice and to the praise of God, for the salvation of all men.
Now, by this we are taught that we must, at all times, repress ourselves and become absorbed in deep humility, as those who have nothing and
can do nothing of themselves, but what is evil; and that in the inner temples of our souls we must offer up ourselves, our own wills, and all that we have and are, in complete resignation to God at all times, with the Son in the Father, as an eternal sacrifice of praise. All that the Father has He gives to His Son; so dear is the Son, that the Father loves nothing but the Son; and those whom He finds united with the Son, He loves in the Son. Therefore, we must exert all the powers of our souls, and offer them to the Father in the Son, that they may be loved by Him in the Son, after the perfect pattern of Mary, the most holy Virgin and Mother of God. Now, to-day, I will tell you something about her, how we may copy her holy life; because she was full of grace and virtue, and the mirror and exact reflection of all holiness.
This gentle Virgin spent the whole of her life in such perfect love to God, in the inner temple of her heart, that she never loved any other creature beside God. Neither did any image ever come into her mind that interposed between her and her love of God. Her love to God was undivided, and she loved all creatures in Him. With all her powers she communed with herself in the depths of her heart, wherein the Divine Image lay hidden; there she dwelt in the innermost temple of her soul, and turned all her powers within, and prayed there to the one God in spirit and in truth. She confessed that she could not worthily praise God; therefore she desired that He would praise and magnify Himself in her. She was so conformed to God from the very bottom of her heart, that if any one could have looked into it, he would have seen God in all His glory, and would have actually seen the procession of the Son and of the Holy Ghost; for her heart never turned away from God.
Now, shall I tell you something about the devotional exercises of this Holy Virgin? They are, however, so divine and superhuman, so high and unfathomable, that they surpass the understanding of men and of Angels. But of her lesser devotions you shall know that she always got up at midnight, and lifted up her heart to the heavenly Father, in such rapt devotion, that it forced its way through heaven, and rested only in the Father's Heart; and thus she stood absorbed in prayer till break of day. Oh! how blessed is he with whom she shares her gentle prayers, and for whom, with especially motherly love, she intercedes with her Son.
Now, learn, that she knew that she was beloved and endowed above all other creatures by God; therefore, when she got up at midnight, she fell on her knees in lowliness, and thanked God for His rich bounty, which He had poured out upon her. Then she offered herself and all that she had to God in prayer, and gave herself into God's gentle keeping, that He might begin and accomplish His will in her, and in all that was hers. Thirdly, she prayed for all the members of the Holy Church, that all things might be ordered there for the best in all godly honour; and for all sinners, that they might truly turn again to salvation. And then she turned in her prayer to all the poor souls in purgatory, for whom she had especial love, and besought God to set them free. Fourthly, she talked with God as a child might talk with his father, or one dearly loved to her beloved; and then often, by the eye of faith she beheld the Divine Being, unveiled, in all His glory and beauty, and God spoke with her as with His dear and chosen spouse. Fifthly, she began to praise God in her prayer with such lively praise, that it seemed to come forth from a divine and blossoming garden that had been tended by God. Her praise was sweeter and purer, and more pleasing to God, than when He had created heaven and earth, the morning stars and the children of God praised Him. Sixthly, she sank down in her prayer into her own nothingness, and confessed that she could not worship the great God, nor praise Him according to His worthiness; and she desired of Him that He would be magnified in her; and then she let all her powers sink down to the lowest depths, whence alone the Eternal God receives the prayer and praise that He loves best.
Know also that, when she thus prayed, she withdrew her mind from all that was external, from all forms and figures, and continued thus, her whole mind being absorbed. Afterwards she meditated on the greatness and glory of the Lord, with Whom she desired to hold converse, though in her own sight she was a worthless creature. Then she fell down at the Feet of the glorious God, and prayed in deep humility, and in earnest, fervent love and desire, and with heartfelt trust in the boundless love of God, that He would hear her, not according to her own will, but according to His. And she continued in prayer from midnight till dawn, and from that time till Prime she devoted herself to holy meditations, in the best way that any creature ever did. First of all she meditated on the greatness
and almightiness of the great God, whom she confessed as above all Angels. Then she sank down in her own littleness, in deep humility. Secondly, she meditated on the mysterious and unfathomable judgements of God, and on His wisdom, which is hidden from all creatures. Thirdly, on the fathomless goodness of God in His eternal love, which is the loving source of all that is good and gracious. Fourthly, she meditated on the overflowing sweetness of God, from whom she had received so much sweetness; for, had she not been overshadowed by the Holy Ghost, her divine heart must have burst with love. Fifthly, she meditated with tearful eyes on the humility of her Child, Who had humbled Himself, and had so trodden the path of humiliation that it was impossible for Him to humble Himself any more.
Sixthly, she meditated on the sufferings of her Child, how great and manifold they were; and this she did with great compassion, for the meditation smote like a sword through her virgin heart and soul. Therefore hers was a martyr's reward, as much as that of any other martyr. Then she meditated on the sufferings of her Child, desiring to imitate Him; for she bethought herself how, at all times, her Child had been despised and had suffered; therefore she devoted all her life to suffering and to bearing oppression. She so entirely submitted herself, that she never prayed to God that her suffering might be shortened or lessened. She spent her life in suffering, and bore it to the end with willing submission, willing even to suffer throughout eternity, if such were the will of God. Then she meditated again on the sufferings of her Child; how He had borne His suffering with great patience, without murmuring, rejoicing in spirit, because of His burning love and desire for us. Thus she also bore her suffering without murmuring and with burning love and joy.
At the hour of Prime she went into the Temple, and betook herself to a corner with downcast eyes, and stayed there till mid-day. Mentally reaching out into eternity, she meditated on the commands and discourses of the Lord; then her soul was exalted, as in a divine vision, above all knowledge, and she was transfigured in spirit above all powers. Her memory shed a pure light, and remained in the unity of the spirit above all carnal suggestions. Her mind was transfused with clearness, so
that she understood and discerned all the virtues, the ways, the discipline and the mysteries of Scripture with judgment. Her will was set alight with fervent heat, in silent love, passing beyond all created things. In this state of exaltation she was above all wisdom and all judgment. Here she received the outpouring of Divine Love, in silence, her spirit was steeped in the immaterial Spring, without any exercise of her own power. Here, above all things, she reposed in God, and, surrounded by Love unfathomable, she lost herself in the obscurity of the Godhead. She was united, without any intervention, and made one Spirit with God, above all created gifts, graces and lights, in one single light that renewed itself unceasingly in the depths of her heart, in the highest exaltation of spirit. In this she had some conception of future blessedness, and she loved God with eternal, uncreated love. All created gifts, virtues, works and discipline, with all that pertained to the creature, must here remain without, for she was moulded herein with divine brightness above all sense and imagination. She saw the eternal lights and scenes, as they were beholden in eternity, with unspeakable and divine joy and pleasure. Know that, were all the delights and joys of the world melted down altogether, they would be nothing but bitterness, compared with the least divine joy such as that ever received by the Mother of God.
Now, know, that the Blessed Virgin possessed one grace above all other human beings; to whatever heights she might be caught up and entranced, beholding God in the light of God, she saw, none the less, all other things, and attended to them. Thus she could even order her outer life in calm and holy conduct, without disturbing her inner life; for her highest powers communed directly with their Source, and were united thereto, so that the lowest were obedient to the highest, as those of Adam had been in Paradise. This grace was hers, because she never inherited original sin; for she had been preserved from this by her Child; so that never for an instant had she been the child of wrath, or an unclean vessel, under the power of the Devil, like the rest of mankind. The Eternal Wisdom prevented and would not allow this chosen Temple to be thus defiled. Therefore, during this inner vision and absorption in God, she could listen with her outward ears, with diligence and devotion and deep humility of heart, to Divine Service; it gave her no trouble, but was delightful and desirable above all things to her at this time. Then, when
towards mid-day she went home, she was often fed by the Angels.
In the afternoon, if it was not a Holy day, she worked, till Vespers, with her blessed hands, and did everything, however small it might be, with especial intention to the glory of God. But, if it was a Holy day, after she had praised God, she went to hear the Word of God, and listened to it with great humility, however plainly it might be spoken, and though she understood it better herself; and she stamped it earnestly in her pure heart, earnestly desiring to experience the least as well as the greatest. When the Word of God was not preached, she spoke or listened to others, speaking of God and of the Divine Life; or she read the Scriptures till Vespers. Then she sang her Psalms and said her prayers till Compline.
Then, when night came on, she communed with herself in holy meditation, and meditated on the perfect Life of her Child and her Lord, and on this sweet doctrine; and her heart was filled with joyful and eternal sweetness. Afterwards she would thank God on her knees that He had so graciously looked upon her on that and every day; and then, in meekness and thankfulness, the blessed Virgin Mary laid herself to rest. Hosts of Angels surrounded her holy bed, so that no evil spirits might torment her; therefore she had no vain fancies or evil dreams, nor any other vision than what God Himself gave to her; for the Holy Trinity was ever her defence and shield. The blessed Virgin never lay down without first dedicating her sleep with her whole heart to the glory of God; and, thus united with God, she bowed her blessed head on the Heavenly Father's Breast, and rested in peace. At midnight she began to pass the day again, as she had passed it before, in all holiness and virtue.
This is related of a portion of her holy life, as in a mirror, that we may place it before us as our example, and, following it, may also remain faithful to God, and offer up ourselves wholly in the inner temples of our souls, according to our power. But that we may be able to do this, we must call on God unceasingly for His divine grace and help, and also on His dear Mother, to whom we should, at least once every day, give especial honour and service. She will then, on her part, help us faithfully in our need, and especially in our last trial; for she is a mother of mercy and cannot reject any sinner who desires her help. Therefore St Bernard
says: "He alone can keep silence about your mercy, O blessed Virgin, who has called upon you in his distress and has been forsaken by you. For we, your unworthy servants, rejoice with you in your other virtues, but in this virtue we rejoice for ourselves. We praise your virginity, we marvel at your lowliness, but we embrace your mercy more willingly; the oftener we think of it, the oftener we appeal to it. you uphold us, and forsake not the miserable sinner, until you see that the terrible Judge is propitiated." May we thus honour and follow this blessed Virgin and her Child, that we may attain to a portion with them in eternity. May God help us thereto. Amen.
SERMON VIII; On the Feast of St Agatha, or the Holy Virgins
What is needful for a true virgin, that she may be pleasing to God, for Whose sake she has despised the kingdom of the world; which may be sung of every holy virgin.
"The kingdom of this world and all secular adornments I have held in contempt, for the love of my Master Jesus Christ."
These words are sung by the Holy Church in the person of every spiritual spouse of Christ, who has given herself to Him that she may be ever faithful in doing His will and service. Now mark, dear children, what qualifications such a bride and virgin of God must possess, who desires to be pleasing and acceptable to God; so that, at last, He may espouse her to Himself for ever; when her soul will be so completely united with Him, that she will never again be parted from Him throughout eternity, nor He from her.
The first qualification is, that a virgin cannot please God, unless she despises the kingdom of this world and all its pomp. She must diligently guard against pride, vain-glory, the desire to please people outwardly, either in her person with the adornment of clothes, or with any fleeting things. She must leave all these for God's sake; and not only the things pertaining to the body, but also to the mind; the spiritual world and all its adornments, which consist of pride, vain-glory, a good outward appearance, and spiritual words out of a worldly heart; in excessive joys
of the heart in spiritual gifts or virtues, or satisfaction in personal goodness. These things happen to and befall the virgins of Christ in so many ways, that it is not easy to say how the Enemy dares to deceive these pure hearts.
The second qualification is, that she must guard herself diligently against worldly customs and conduct, and against all harmful habits, both outwardly and inwardly. She must not be proud in heart of haughty in bearing before other people; she must not boast nor hold herself in high esteem because she is wise or prudent, nor try to defend herself when she is despised or oppressed; but with modest and soft words and demeanour, and in all lowliness, she must set herself to acknowledge and cure her faults.
The third qualification is, that it is not enough for her to know that she must suffer; she must also resign herself completely in all that vexes her and brings her trouble. She must help to work in God's vineyard with patience, in the pure ground of a humble heart, which is the only place where God dwells; for God only dwells in the heart of a virgin who abases herself, from the ground of her heart, in humility, beneath God and all men, and, if it must be, even to death. By this complete self-annihilation a human being may win from and obtain from God all that he needs; and more still; for God comes to meet such with all His grace, and exalts them with all the honour with which He has honoured His Saints.
The fourth qualification. It is necessary for a good virgin, in this life, to be chastened, despised, rejected, ill-used and rebuked, even as the Canaanitish woman was treated by Christ. And thus He treats, even now, all His chosen ones, who are especially dear to Him, and on whom He will lavish His especial grace. Inwardly He will chastise them severely, and treat them hardly; and outwardly also He ordains that they shall be trodden under foot by everyone; men shall speak evil of them; and they shall be despised in their own eyes with wanton falsehood. Then will the virgin of Christ despise herself utterly, and suppress herself in true humility, and rejoice in it for the sake of God, and think of herself as unworthy of all this suffering, thanking God that He has thus especially endowed her as His own.
The fifth qualification. It also appertains to such a virgin, that she would not only be despised here of men, but that she should also despise herself, and suffer patiently all that happens to her, concealing it in her heart and complaining to no one. We often see virgins ready in words to despise themselves before men, saying: "We are all sinners," who would nevertheless take it very ill, if anyone else said it of them; and thus we discover that it is all pride. A virgin who is not humble at heart may be known, when anything happens to her untowardly, though it were only a word; for she is indignant at once, she is offended with what is said to her, and begins to excuse herself immediately. She cannot bear anyone to say anything that is insulting to her honour, or that would cause her to be despised; and yet she wishes to be considered humble. No, dear child, all the contempt and scorn that a man is ready to pour out upon himself has no real ground in humility; but, when he is despised and scorned by another who is his equal, or still more, by one who is his inferior, he is cut to the quick; and then a man will learn to know how little humble and patient he really is.