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Every sin produces blindness; and as sin increases, so does the sinner's blindness increase. Therefore do we see relapsing sinners lose all light, and go from sin to sin, without even thinking of amendment. The very habit of committing sin, says St. Augustine, prevents sinners from perceiving the evil they do, and so they live as if they no longer believed in God, in Heaven, or in eternity.
I.
The wicked man, when he is come into the depths of sins, contemneth. (Prov. xviii. 3). One of the greatest ills which the sin of Adam brought upon us was the evil inclination to sin. This made the Apostle weep when he found himself compelled by concupiscence towards those very sins which he abhorred: I see another law in my members . . . captivating me in the law of sin. (Rom. vii. 23). Therefore is it so difficult for us, infected as we are by this concupiscence, and with so many enemies urging us to evil, to arrive sinless at our heavenly country. Now such being our frailty, I ask, what would you say of a voyager who, having to cross the sea in a great storm, and in a frail barque, would load it in such a manner as would be sufficient to sink it even were there no storm and the vessel strong? What would you predict as to the life of that man? Now, we may say the same of the habitual sinner, who, having to pass the sea of this life--a stormy sea in which so many are lost--in a frail and shattered barque, such as is our flesh to which we are united, still burdens it with habitual sins. Such a one can hardly be saved, because a bad habit blinds the understanding, hardens the heart, and thus renders him obstinate to the last. In the first place, a bad habit produces blindness. And why indeed, do the Saints always beg for light from God, trembling lest they should become the worst sinners in the world? Because they know that if for a moment they lose that light, there is no enormity they may not commit. How is it that so many Christians have lived obstinately in sin until at last they have damned themselves? Their own malice blinded them. (Wis. ii. 21). Sin deprived them of sight, and thus they were lost. Every sin produces blindness; and as sin increases, so does the blindness increase. God is our light; as much, therefore, as the soul withdraws from God, so much the more blind does she become: His bones shall be filled with the vices of his youth. (Job xx. 11). As in a vessel full of earth the light of the sun cannot penetrate, so in a heart full of vices Divine light cannot enter. Therefore do we see certain relapsed sinners lose all light, and proceed from sin to sin, without any more even thinking of amendment: The wicked walk round about. (Ps. xi. 9). Having fallen into that dark pit, the unhappy wretches can do nothing but sin; they speak only of sin; they think only of sin; and hardly perceive at last what harm there is in sin. The very habit of committing sin, says St. Augustine, prevents sinners from perceiving the evil they do. So that they live as if they no longer believed in God, in Heaven, in hell, or in eternity.
My God, Thou hast conferred signal blessings upon me, favouring me above others; and I have signally offended Thee by outraging Thee more than any other person that I know. O sorrowful Heart of my Redeemer, afflicted and tormented on the Cross by the sight of my sins, give me, through Thy merits, a lively sense of my offences, and sorrow for them. Ah, my Jesus, I am full of vices; but Thou art omnipotent, Thou canst easily fill my soul with Thy holy love. In Thee, then, I trust; Thou Who art infinite goodness and infinite mercy. I repent, O my Sovereign Good, of having offended Thee. Oh, that I had rather died, and had ever caused Thee any displeasure!
II.
That sin which at first struck the sinner with terror, now, through bad habit, no longer causes horror: Make them as stubble before the wind. (Ps. lxxxii. 14). Behold, says St. Gregory, with what ease a straw is stirred by the slightest wind; thus also you will see one who before he fell, resisted, at least for some time, and combated temptation, when the bad habit is contracted fall instantly at every temptation, and on every occasion of sin that presents itself. And why? Because the bad habit has deprived him of light. St. Anselm says that the devil acts with some sinners like one who holds a bird tied by a string; he allows it to fly, but, when he chooses, he drags it to the earth again. So is it, says the Saint, with habitual sinners: "Entangled by a bad habit, they are held bound by the enemy; and though flying, they are cast down into the same vices." Some, adds St. Bernardine of Sienna, continue to sin, even without occasion. You will see an habitual sinner without occasion indulging in bad thoughts, without pleasure, and almost without will, drawn forcibly on by bad habit. As St. John Chrysostom observes, "Habit is a merciless thing; it forces men, sometimes even against; their will, to the commission of unlawful acts." Yes because, according to St. Augustine, "When no resistance is made to a habit, it becomes a necessity. And, as St. Bernardine adds: "Habit is changed into nature." Hence, as it is necessary for a man to breathe so to habitual sinners, who have made themselves slaves of sin, it appears almost necessary that they must sin. I have used the expression slaves; there are servants who serve for pay, but slaves serve by force and without pay; to this do some poor wretches come, who at last sin without pleasure.
The wicked man, when he is come to the depth of sin: contemneth. (Prov. xviii. 3). St. Chrysostom explains this of the habitual sinner, who, plunged into that pit of darkness, despises corrections, sermons, censures, help, God--despises all, and becomes like the vulture, which, rather than leave the dead body, allows itself to be killed upon it. Father Recupito relates, that a criminal on his way to execution raised his eyes, beheld a young girl and consented to a bad thought. Father Gisolfo also relates that a blasphemer, likewise condemned to death uttered a blasphemy as he was thrown off the ladder. St. Bernard goes so far as to say that it is of no use praying for habitual sinners, but we must weep for them as lost. How can they, indeed, avoid the precipice which they no longer see? It requires a miracle of grace. These unhappy beings will open their eyes in hell, when it will be of no avail to open them, unless it be to weep the more bitterly over their folly.
O my Jesus, I have forgotten Thee; but Thou hast not forgotten me; I perceive it by the light Thou now givest me. Since, then, Thou givest me light, give me likewise strength to be faithful to Thee. I promise Thee rather to die a thousand times than ever again to turn my back on Thee. But all my hopes are in Thine assistance: In thee, O Lord, have I hoped; let me not be confounded forever. I hope in Thee, my Jesus, never again to find myself entangled in iniquity and deprived of Thy grace. To thee, also, do I turn, O Mary, my blessed Lady: "In thee, O Lady, have I hoped; let me not be confounded for ever." O my hope, I trust by thy intercession that I may never again find myself at enmity with thy Son. Ah, beg of Him rather to let me die than that He should abandon me to this greatest of misfortunes.
Spiritual Reading
INTERIOR MORTIFICATION
Even works of piety must be always undertaken with a spirit of detachment; so that whenever our efforts are unsuccessful we shall not be disturbed, and when our exercises of devotion are prohibited by a Superior we shall give them up with cheerfulness. Self-attachment of every kind hinders a perfect union with God. We must therefore seriously and firmly resolve to mortify our passions, and not to submit to be their slaves. External as well as interior mortification is necessary for perfection: but with this difference, that the former should be practised with discretion; the latter without discretion, and with fervour. What does it profit us to mortify the body, while the passions of the heart are indulged? "Of what use is it," says St. Jerome, "to reduce the body by abstinence, if the soul is swelled with pride?--or to abstain from wine, and to be inebriated with hatred?" It is useless to chastise the body by fasting, while pride inflates the heart to such a degree, that we cannot bear a word of contempt or the refusal of a request. In vain do we abstain from wine while the soul is intoxicated with anger against all who thwart our designs or oppose our inclinations. No wonder, then, that St. Bernard deplored the miserable state of him who wears the external garb of humility, and at the same time inwardly cherishes his passions. "Such people," says the Saint, "are not divested of their vices: they only cover them by the outward sign of penance."
By attention to the mortification of self-love, we shall become Saints in a short time, and without the risk of injury to health; for since God is the only witness of interior acts, they will not expose us to the danger of being puffed up with pride. Oh! what treasures of virtue and of merits are laid up by stifling in their very birth those little inordinate desires and affections, those bickerings, those suggestions of curiosity, those bursts of wit and humour, and all similar effects of self-love! When you are contradicted, give up your opinion with cheerfulness, unless the glory of God require that you maintain it. When feelings of self-esteem spring up in your heart, make a sacrifice of them to Jesus Christ. If you receive a letter, restrain your curiosity, and abstain from opening it for some time. If you desire to read the termination of an interesting narrative, lay aside the book, and defer the reading of it to another time. When you feel inclined to mirth, to pull a flower, or to look at any object, suppress these inclinations for the love of Jesus Christ, and deprive yourself for His sake of the pleasure of indulging in them. A thousand acts of this kind may be performed in the day. St. Leonard of Port Maurice relates that a servant of God performed eight acts of mortification in eating an egg, and that it was afterwards revealed to her that, as the reward of her self-denial, eight degrees of grace and as many degrees of glory were bestowed upon her. It is also related of St. Dositheus, that by a similar mortification of the interior, he arrived in a short time at a high degree of perfection. Though unable, in consequence of bodily infirmities, to fast or to discharge the other duties of the Religious Community, he attained so perfect a union with God, that the other monks, struck with wonder at his sublime sanctity, asked him what exercises of virtue he performed. "The exercise," replied the Saint, "to which I have principally attended is the mortification of all self-love."
Evening Meditation
REFLECTIONS AND AFFECTIONS ON THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST
I.
When it was day, the Jews conduct Jesus to Pilate, to make him condemn Him to death; but Pilate declares Him to be innocent: I find no cause in this man. (Luke xxiii. 4). And to free himself from the importunities of the Jews, who pressed on him, seeking the death of the Saviour, he sends Him to Herod. It greatly pleased Herod to see Jesus Christ brought before him, hoping that in his presence, in order to deliver Himself from death, He would have worked one of those miracles of which he had heard; wherefore Herod asked Him many questions. But Jesus, because He did not wish to be delivered from death, and because that wicked one was not worthy of His answers, was silent, and answered him not. Then the proud king, with his court, offered Him many insults, and making them cover Him with a white robe, as if declaring Him to be an ignorant and stupid fellow, sent Him back to Pilate: But Herod with his soldiers despised him, and mocked him, putting on him a white robe, and sent him back to Pilate. (Luke xxiii. 11). Cardinal Hugo in his Commentary says, "Mocking Him as if a fool, he clothed Him with a white robe." And St. Bonaventure, "He despised Him as if impotent, because He worked no miracle; as if ignorant, because He answered him not a word; as if idiotic, because He did not defend Himself."
O Eternal Wisdom! O Divine Word! This one other ignominy was wanting to Thee, that Thou shouldst be treated as a fool bereft of sense. So greatly does our salvation weigh on Thee, that through love of us Thou willest not only to be reviled, but to be satiated with revilings; as Jeremias had already prophesied of Thee: He shall give his cheek to him that striketh him; he shall be filled with reproaches. (Lam. iii. 30). And how couldst Thou bear such love to men, from whom Thou hast received nothing but ingratitude and slights? Alas, that I should be one of these who have outraged Thee worse than Herod. Ah, my Jesus, chastise me not, like Herod, by depriving me of Thy voice. Herod did not recognise Thee for what Thou art! I confess Thee to be my God: Herod loved Thee not; I love Thee more than myself. Deny me not, I beseech Thee, deny me not the voice of Thy inspiration, as I have deserved by the offences I have committed against Thee. Tell me what Thou wilt have of me, for, by Thy grace, I am ready to do all that Thou wilt.
II.
When Jesus had been led back to Pilate, the governor inquired of the people whom they wished to have released at the Passover, Jesus or Barabbas, a murderer. But the people cried out, Not this man, but Barabbas. Then said Pilate, What, then, shall I do with Jesus? They answered, Let him be crucified. But what evil hath this innocent One done? replied Pilate: What evil hath he done? They repeated: Let him be crucified. And even up to this time, O God, the greater part of mankind continue to say, "Not this Man, but Barabbas"; preferring to Jesus Christ some pleasure of sense, some point of honour, some outbreak of wounded pride.
Ah, my Lord, well knowest Thou that at one time I did Thee the same injury when I preferred my accursed tastes to Thee. My Jesus, pardon me, for I repent of the past, and from henceforth I prefer Thee before everything. I esteem Thee, I love Thee more than any good; and am willing a thousand times to die rather than forsake Thee. Give me holy perseverance, give me Thy love.
"So let us be confident, let us not be unprepared, let us not be outflanked, let us be wise, vigilant, fighting against those who are trying to tear the faith out of our souls and morality out of our hearts, so that we may remain Catholics, remain united to the Blessed Virgin Mary, remain united to the Roman Catholic Church, remain faithful children of the Church."- Abp. Lefebvre
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His heart shall be as hard as a stone and as firm as a smith’s anvil. God does not indeed harden the habitual sinner, but He withdraws His grace in punishment of his ingratitude for past favours; and thus his heart becomes as hard as a stone. And St. Thomas of Villanova says: “Hardness of heart is a sign of damnation.”
I.
A bad habit hardens the heart, and God justly permits it in punishment of resistance to His calls. The Apostle says that the Lord hath mercy on whom he will; and whom he will he hardeneth. (Rom. ix. 18). St. Augustine explains it thus: It is not that God hardens the habitual sinner; but He withdraws His grace in punishment of his ingratitude for past graces, and thus his heart becomes hard as a stone: His heart shall be hard as a stone, and as firm as a smith’s anvil. (Job xli. 15). Hence, when others are moved and weep on hearing sermons on the rigours of Divine justice, the pains of the damned, and the Passion of Jesus Christ, the habitual sinner is in no way affected; he will speak of these things, and hear them spoken of, with indifference, as if they were things that concerned him not; and he will only become more hardened: He shall be as firm as a smith’s anvil. Even sudden deaths, earthquakes, thunderbolts, and lightning, will no longer terrify him; and, instead of arousing him, and making him enter into himself, they will rather produce in him that stupor of death in which he hopelessly sleeps: At thy rebuke, O God of Jacob, they have all slumbered. (Ps. lxxv. 7). A bad habit by degrees destroys even remorse of conscience. To the habitual sinner the most enormous sin appears as nothing, says St. Augustine: “Sins, however horrible, when once habitual, seem little or no sin at all.” How can I thank Thee, O Lord, as I ought, for the many graces Thou hast bestowed on me! How often hast Thou called me, and I have resisted! Instead of being grateful to Thee, and loving Thee for having delivered me from hell, and called me with so much love, I have continued to provoke Thy wrath by requiting Thee with insults. No, my God, I will no longer outrage Thy patience; I have offended Thee enough. Thou alone, Who art infinite love, couldst have borne with me till now. But I now see that Thou canst bear with me no longer; and with reason. Pardon, then, my Lord and my Sovereign Good, all my offences against Thee; of which I repent with my whole heart, for I purpose in future never to offend Thee again.
II.
The commission of sin naturally carries along with it a certain shame; but, says St. Jerome, “Habitual sinners lose even shame in sinning.” St. Peter compares the habitual sinner to the swine that wallows in the mire (2 Peter ii. 22) As the swine that rolls in the mire perceives not the stench, so it is with the habitual sinner; that stench, which is perceived by all others, is unnoticed by him alone. And, supposing the mire to have deprived him also of sight, what wonder is it, says St. Bernardine, that he amends not even when God chastises him! “The people wallow in sin, as the sow in a pool of filth; what wonder is it if they perceive not the coming judgments of an avenging God!” Hence, instead of grieving over his sins, he rejoices in them, he laughs at them, he boasts of them: They are glad when they have done evil. A fool worketh mischief, as it were, for sport. (Prov. ii. 14; x. 23). What signs are not these of diabolical obduracy! They are all signs of damnation, says St. Thomas of Villanova: “Hardness of heart is a sign of damnation.” Tremble lest the same should happen to you. If perchance you have any bad habit, endeavour to break from it speedily, now that God calls you. And as long as your conscience smites you, rejoice; for it is a sign that God has not yet abandoned you. But amend, give up sin at once; for if not, the wound will become gangrenous, and you will be lost.
What! shall I, perchance, always continue to provoke my God? Ah, be appeased with me, O God of my soul; not through my merits, for which vengeance and hell alone are reserved, but through the merits of Thy Son and my Redeemer, in which I place my hope. For the love, then, of Jesus Christ receive me into Thy grace, and give me perseverance in Thy love. Detach me from all impure affections, and draw me wholly to Thyself. I love Thee, O great God, O Supreme Lover of souls, worthy of infinite love. Oh, that I had always loved Thee! O Mary, my Mother, grant that the remainder of my life may be spent, not in offending thy Son, but only in loving Him, and weeping over the displeasure I have caused Him.
Spiritual Reading
INTERIOR MORTIFICATION
St. Joseph Calasanctius used to say that “the day which is spent without mortification is lost.” To convince us of the necessity of mortification, the Redeemer has chosen a life of self-denial, full of pains and ignominy, and destitute of all sensible pleasure. Hence He is called by Isaias, a man of sorrows. (Is. liii. 3). He might have saved the world amid the enjoyment of honours and delights; but He preferred to redeem it by sorrows and contempt. Who having joy set before him, endured the cross. (Heb. xii. 2). To give us an example, Jesus renounced the joy which was set before Him, and embraced the Cross. “Reflect again and again,” says St. Bernard, “on the life of Jesus, and you will find Him always on the Cross.” The Redeemer revealed to St. Catherine of Bologna that the sorrows of His Passion began in His Mother’s womb. For His birth He selected the season, the place and the hour most adapted to excite pain. During life He chose to be poor, unknown, despised; and, dying, He preferred the most painful, the most ignominious, and the most desolate of all kinds of death which human nature could suffer. St. Catherine of Sienna used to say that as a mother takes the bitterest medicine to restore the health of the infant she suckles, so Jesus Christ has assumed all the pains of life to heal the infirmities of His children.
Thus He invites all His followers to accompany Him to the mountain of myrrh; that is, of bitterness and of sorrows. I will go to the mountain of myrrh. (Cant. iv. 6). Behold, Jesus invites us to follow if we wish for His company. “Do you come,” says St. Peter Damian, “to Jesus crucified? If you do, you must come already crucified, or to be crucified.” If, O beloved soul, you come to embrace your crucified Saviour, you must bring with you a heart already crucified, or to be crucified. Speaking especially of His consecrated virginal spouses: Jesus Christ said to the Blessed Baptist Varani: “The crucified Bridegroom desires a crucified spouse” –that is, one that leads a life of continual mortification and self-denial. Always bearing about in our body the mortification of Jesus. (2 Cor. iv. 10). We must never seek our own satisfaction in any action or desire, but the pleasure of Jesus Christ, crucifying for His sake all our inclinations. They that are Christ’s have crucified their flesh, with the vices and concupiscences. (Gal. v. 24).
Evening Meditation
REFLECTIONS AND AFFECTIONS ON THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST
I.
Presently we will speak of the other reproaches which Jesus Christ endured, until He finally died on the Cross: He endured the cross, despising the shame. (Heb. xii. 2). Meanwhile let us consider how truly in our dear Redeemer was fulfilled what the Psalmist had foretold, that in His Passion He should become the reproach of men, and the outcast of the people: But I am a worm, and no man; the reproach of men, and the outcast of the people. (Ps. xxi. 7); even to a death of ignominy suffered at the hands of the executioner on a Cross, as a malefactor between two malefactors: And he was reputed with the wicked. (Is. liii. 12).
O Lord, the Most High, exclaims St. Bernard, become the lowest among men! O lofty One become vile! O glory of Angels become the reproach of men: “O lowest and highest! O humble and sublime! O reproach of men and glory of Angels!”
O grace, O strength of the love of God, continues St. Bernard. Thus did the Lord most high over all become the most lightly esteemed of all! “O grace, O power of love, did the highest of all thus become the lowest of all?” And who was it, adds the Saint, that did this? “Who hath done this? Love.” All this hath the love which God bears towards men done, to prove how He loves us, and to teach us by His example how to suffer with peace contempt and injuries: Christ also suffered for us (writes St. Peter), leaving you an example, that you should follow his steps. (1 Pet. ii. 21). St. Eleazer, when asked by his wife how he came to endure with such peace the great injuries that were done him, answered: I turn to look on Jesus enduring contempt, and say that my affronts are as nothing in respect to those which He, my God, was willing to bear for me.
Ah, my Jesus, and how is it that, at the sight of a God thus dishonoured for love of me, I know not how to suffer the least contempt for love of Thee? A sinner, and proud! And whence, my Lord, can come this pride? I pray Thee, by the merits of the contempt Thou didst suffer, give me grace to suffer with patience and gladness all affronts and injuries. From this day forth I propose by Thy help never more to resent them, but to receive with joy all the reproaches which shall be offered me. Truly have I deserved greater contempt for having despised Thy Divine Majesty, and deserved the contempt of hell. Exceeding sweet and pleasant to me hast Thou rendered affronts, my beloved Redeemer, by having embraced such great contempt for love of me. Henceforth I propose, in order to please Thee, to benefit as much as possible whoever despises me; at least to speak well of and pray for him. And even now I pray Thee to heap up Thy graces on all those from whom I have received any injury. I love Thee, O infinite Good, and will ever love Thee as much as I can. Amen.
II.
Let us enter into the pretorium of Pilate, one day made the horrible scene of the ignominies and pains of Jesus; let us see how unjust, how shameful, how cruel was the punishment there inflicted on the Saviour of the world. Pilate, seeing that the Jews continued to make a tumult against Jesus, as a most unjust judge, condemned Him to be scourged: Then Pilate took Jesus and scourged him. (John xix. 1). The iniquitous judge thought by means of this barbarity to win for Him the compassion of His enemies, and thus to deliver Him from death: I will chastise him, he said, and let him go. (Luke xxiii. 16). Scourging was the chastisement inflicted on slaves only. Therefore, says St. Bernard, our loving Redeemer willed to take the form, not only of a slave, in order to subject Himself to the will of others, but even of a bad slave, in order to be chastised with scourges, and so to pay the penalty due from man, who had made himself the slave of sin: “Taking not only the form of a slave, that he might submit, but even of a bad slave, that he might be beaten and suffer the punishment of the slave of sin.”
O Son of God, O Thou great lover of my soul, how couldst Thou, the Lord of infinite Majesty, so love an object so vile and ungrateful as I am, as to subject Thyself to so much punishment, to deliver me from the punishment which was my due. A God scourged! It were a greater marvel that God should receive the slightest blow, than that all men and Angels should be destroyed. Ah, my Jesus, pardon me the offences I have committed against Thee, and then chastise me as it shall please Thee. This alone is enough, –that I love Thee, and that Thou love me; and then I am content to suffer all the pains Thou willest.
"So let us be confident, let us not be unprepared, let us not be outflanked, let us be wise, vigilant, fighting against those who are trying to tear the faith out of our souls and morality out of our hearts, so that we may remain Catholics, remain united to the Blessed Virgin Mary, remain united to the Roman Catholic Church, remain faithful children of the Church."- Abp. Lefebvre
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A hard heart shall fare evil at the last. When light is lost and the heart is hardened, the probable consequence will be that the sinner will make a bad end, and die obstinate in sin. O Jesus, I am resolved to change my life and give myself to Thee.
I.
When light is lost, and the heart is hardened, the probable consequence will be that the sinner will make bad end, and die obstinate in his sin: A hard heart shall fare evil at the last. (Ecclus. iii. 27). The just continue to walk in the straight road: The path of the just is right to walk in. (Is. xxvi. 7). Habitual sinners, on the contrary, go always in a circle: The wicked walk round about. (Ps. xi. 9). They leave sin for a while, and then they return to it. To such as these St. Bernard announces a curse: "Woe to the man who follows this circle!" Such a one will say: I will amend before I die. But the difficulty lies in this--will an habitual sinner amend even though he should attain old age? The Holy Spirit says: A young man according to his way, even when he is old he will not depart from it. (Prov. xxii. 6). The reason is, according to St. Thomas of Villanova, that our strength is very feeble: Your strength shall be as the ashes of tow. (Is. i. 31). From which it follows, as the Saint observes, that the soul, deprived of grace, cannot avoid committing fresh sins: "Hence it comes to pass that the soul, destitute of grace, cannot long escape fresh sins." But besides this, what madness would it be in a person to play and lose voluntarily all he possessed, in the hope of winning it back at the last stake! Such is the folly of those who continue to live in sin, and hope at the last moment of their life to repair all. Can the Ethiopian or the leopard change the colour of their skin? And how can he lead a good life who has contracted a long habit of sin? If the Ethiopian can change his skin, or the leopard his spots, you also may do well when you have learned evil. (Jer. xiii. 23). Hence it happens that the habitual sinner abandons himself at last to despair, and thus ends his life.
Ah, my God, shall I, then, wait till Thou dost absolutely abandon me, and send me to hell? Ah, Lord, wait for me; for I am resolved to change my life, and give myself to Thee. Tell me what I must do and I will do it. O Blood of Jesus, aid me. O Mary, Advocate of sinners, succour me; and Thou, Eternal Father, through the merits of Jesus and Mary, have pity on me.
II.
St. Gregory, on that passage of Job: He hath torn me with wound upon wound, he hath rushed in upon me like a giant (xvi. 15), remarks: "If a person is attacked by an enemy, he is perhaps able to defend himself at the first wound he receives; but the more wounds that are inflicted on him, the more strength does he lose, until at last he is overcome and killed." Thus it is with sin: after the first or the second time, the sinner has still some strength left (always, be it understood, through the means of grace, which assists him): but if he continues to sin, sin becomes a giant: "It rushes upon him as a giant." On the other hand, the sinner being weaker, and covered with wounds, how can he escape death? Sin, according to Jeremias, is like a heavy stone that weighs upon the soul: They have laid a stone over me. (Lament. iii. 53). Now, St. Bernard says, that it is as difficult for an habitual sinner to rise, as for one who has fallen under a heavy stone, and who has not strength sufficient to remove it, to free himself from it; "He rises with difficulty who is pressed down by the mass of a bad habit."
But the habitual sinner will exclaim: Then my case is desperate? No, not desperate, if you wish to amend. But well does a certain author observe that great ills require great remedies: "It is good in severe diseases to commence the cure by severe remedies. If a physician were to say to a sick man in danger of death who refused to apply proper remedies, being ignorant of the serious nature of his malady: "My friend, you are a dead man unless you take such a medicine" --how would the sick man reply? "Here I am," he would say, "ready to take anything; my life is at stake." Dear Christian, I say the same to you: if you have contracted the habit of some sin, you are in a bad way, and of the number of those sick men who "are rarely cured," according to St. Thomas of Villanova. You are on the brink of perdition. If, however, you wish to recover, there is a remedy: but you must not expect a miracle of grace; you must on your side do violence to yourself, you must fly from dangerous occasions, avoid bad company, and resist when you are tempted, recommending yourself to God. You must make use of proper means, going frequently to Confession, reading every day a spiritual book, practising devotion to the Blessed Virgin, praying constantly to her that she may obtain for you strength not to relapse. You must do violence to yourself, otherwise the threat of the Lord against the obstinate will be fulfilled in your regard: You shall die in your sin. (John viii. 21). And if you do not amend, now that God gives you light, it will be more difficult to do so later. Hear God, Who calls you: Lazarus, come forth. Poor sinner, already dead, come out of the dark grave of your bad life. Reply quickly, give yourself to God, and tremble lest this should be your last call.
I repent, O God of infinite goodness, of having offended Thee; and I love Thee above all things. Pardon me, for the love of Jesus Christ, and give me Thy love. Give me also, O Lord, a great fear of eternal perdition should I again offend Thee. Light, O my God, --light and strength! I hope for all through Thy mercy. Thou hast bestowed on me so many graces when I wandered far from Thee; how much more, then, may I hope, now that I return to Thee, resolved to love Thee alone. I love Thee, my God, my Life, my All. I love thee also, O Mary, my Mother; to thee I consign my soul; preserve it by thy intercession from again falling into disfavour with God.
Spiritual Reading
INTERIOR MORTIFICATION
Let us now see what are the means by which the spirit of interior mortification may be acquired.
The first means is to discover the passion which predominates in our heart, and which most frequently leads us into sin; and then to endeavour to conquer it. St. Gregory says that to overcome the devil, we must avail ourselves of the artifices by which he seeks our destruction. He labours continually to increase in us the violence of the passion to which we are most subject; and we must direct our attention principally to the extirpation of that passion. Whoever subdues his predominant passion will easily conquer all other evil inclinations; but he that is under its sway can make no progress in perfection. "Of what advantage," says St. Ephrem, "are wings to the eagle when his foot is chained?" Oh! how many souls are there who, like the royal eagle, are capable of lofty flights in the way of God, and who, because they are bound by earthly attachments, never fly, and never advance in holiness! St. John of the Cross says that a slender thread is sufficient to fetter a soul that flies not with eagerness to its God. Besides, he that submits to the tyranny of any passion, not only does not go forward in the way of virtue, but is exposed to great danger of being lost. If we neglect to subdue the ruling passion, other mortifications will be unprofitable to us. Some despise worldly riches, but are full of self-esteem. If they do not endeavour to bear the humiliations which they receive, their contempt of Mammon will profit them but little. Others, on the contrary, are patient and humble, but enslaved to the love of money. If they do not mortify the desire of wealth, their patience and humility in bearing contempt will be of little use to them.
Resolve, then, with a resolute will, to subdue the evil inclination which is most predominant in your heart. A resolute will, aided by the grace of God (which is never wanting), conquers all difficulties. St. Francis de Sales was very prone to anger; but by continual violence to himself he became a model of meekness and of sweetness. We read in his Life that he bore without murmur or complaint the injuries and calumnies which, to try his patience, were by the Divine permission heaped upon him. As soon as one passion is subdued, we must endeavour to overcome the others; for a single unmortified passion will be sufficient to lead the soul to destruction. St. Joseph Calasanctius asserts that while a single passion reigns in a heart, though all the others should have been extirpated, the soul shall never enjoy tranquility. "A ship," says St. Cyril, "however strong and perfect it may be, will be unsafe if the smallest hole remains in it." And St. Augustine says: "Trample under foot passions already subdued, and combat those that still offer resistance." If you wish to be a Saint, I advise you to entreat your spiritual director to point out the way in which you ought to walk. Tell him not to spare you, but to contradict your inclinations as often as he shall judge it useful to you. "Be of an upright and perfect will," says that great servant of God, Cardinal Petrucci. St. Teresa relates that she derived more advantage from one of her confessors who sought on all occasions to oppose her desires, than from all the others. She adds that she was frequently tempted to leave him; and that, as often as she yielded to the suggestion of the devil, God rebuked her severely. "Every time," says the Saint, "I resolved to leave him, I felt within me a rebuke more painful than the conduct of my confessor towards me."
Evening Meditation
REFLECTIONS AND AFFECTIONS ON THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST
I.
As soon as He arrived at the pretorium (as was revealed to St. Bridget), our loving Saviour at the command of the servants, stripped Himself of His garments, embraced the column, and then laid on it His hands to have them bound. O God, already is begun the cruel torture! O Angels of Heaven, come and look on this sorrowful spectacle; and if it be not permitted you to deliver your King from this barbarous slaughter which men have prepared for Him, at least come and weep for compassion. And thou, my soul, imagine thyself to be present at this horrible tearing of the Flesh of thy beloved Redeemer. Look on Him, how He stands, --thy afflicted Jesus, --with His head bowed, looking on the ground, blushing all over for shame, He awaits this great torture. Behold these barbarians, like so many ravening dogs, are already with the scourges attacking this innocent Lamb. See how one beats Him on the breast, another strikes His shoulders, another smites His loins and His legs; even His Sacred Head and His beautiful face cannot escape the blows. Ah, me! already flows that Divine Blood from every part; already with that Blood are saturated the scourges, the hands of the executioners, the column, and the ground. "He is wounded," mourns St. Peter Damian, "over His whole Body, torn with the scourges; now they twine round His shoulders, now round His legs--weals upon weals, wounds added to fresh wounds." Ah, cruel men, with whom are you dealing thus? Stay--stay; know that you are mistaken. The Man Whom you are torturing is innocent and holy; it is myself who am the culprit; to me, to me who have sinned, are these stripes and torments due. But you regard not what I say. And how canst Thou, O Eternal Father, bear with this great injustice? How canst Thou behold Thy beloved Son suffering thus, and not interfere on His behalf? What is the crime that He has ever committed, to deserve so shameful and so severe a punishment?
II.
For the wickedness of my people have I struck him. (Is. liii. 8). I well know, says the Eternal Father, that this My Son is innocent; but inasmuch as He has offered Himself as a satisfaction to My justice for all the sins of mankind, it is fitting that I should so abandon Him to the rage of His enemies. Hast Thou, then, my adorable Saviour, in compensation for our sins, and especially for those of impurity,--that most prevalent vice of mankind--been willing to have Thy most pure Flesh torn in pieces? And who, then, will not exclaim with St. Bernard, "How unspeakable is the love of the Son of God towards sinners!"
Ah, my Lord, smitten with the scourge, I return Thee thanks for such great love, and I grieve that I am myself, by reason of my sins, one of those who scourge Thee. O my Jesus, I detest all those wicked pleasures which have cost Thee so much pain. Oh, how many years ought I not already to have been in the flames of hell! And why hast Thou so patiently waited for me until now? Thou hast borne with me, in order that at length, overcome by so many wiles of love, I might give myself up to love Thee, abandoning sin. O my beloved Redeemer, I will offer no further resistance to Thy loving affection; I desire to love Thee henceforth to the uttermost of my power. But Thou already knowest my weakness; Thou knowest how often I have betrayed Thee. Do Thou detach me from all earthly affections which hinder me from being all Thine own. Put me frequently in mind of the love which Thou hast borne me, and of the obligation I am under of ever loving Thee. In Thee I place all my hopes, my God, my Love, my All.
"So let us be confident, let us not be unprepared, let us not be outflanked, let us be wise, vigilant, fighting against those who are trying to tear the faith out of our souls and morality out of our hearts, so that we may remain Catholics, remain united to the Blessed Virgin Mary, remain united to the Roman Catholic Church, remain faithful children of the Church."- Abp. Lefebvre
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The devil brings sinners to hell by closing their eyes to the dangers of damnation. He first blinds them, and then leads them into eternal torments. If, then, we wish to be saved, we must continually pray to God in the words of the blind man in the Gospel: Lord, that I may see! Domine, ut videam! Give me light, O Lord, and make me see the way in which I must walk, in order to escape the illusions of the enemy of my salvation.
I.
Let us take a young person who has fallen into grievous sins, has confessed them, and has regained Divine grace. The devil again tempts him to sin; he resists, but already wavers through the deceits suggested to him by the enemy. I say to that person--to you: Tell me, what will you do? Will you now lose the grace of God, which you have regained, and which is of more value than the whole world, for this wretched gratification? Will you write your own sentence of eternal death, and condemn yourself to burn for ever in hell? "No," you say, "I do not wish to condemn myself, I wish to be saved; if I commit this sin, I will afterwards confess it." Behold the first delusion of the tempter. You say to me, then, that you will afterwards confess it? But in the meantime you already give away your soul. Tell me, if you had in your hand a jewel worth a thousand crowns, would you throw it into the river, saying: Afterwards I will search diligently and hope to find it? You hold in your hand that precious jewel of your soul, which Jesus Christ has purchased by His Blood; and you cast it voluntarily into hell (for in sinning you are, according to present justice, already condemned), and say: But I hope to recover it by Confession. But supposing you should not recover it? To recover it you must have true repentance, which is the gift of God; and if God should not give you this repentance? And if death were to come, and take from you time for Confession?
You say you will not allow a week to pass over without Confession; and who promises you a week? You say you will go to Confession tomorrow; and who promises you tomorrow? St. Augustine says: "God has not promised you tomorrow; perhaps He will give it you, and perhaps He will not give it you," as He has denied it to so many, who have gone to bed well, and have been found dead in the morning. How many has God struck dead and sent to hell in the very act of sinning!
And should He do the same to you, how can you ever repair your eternal ruin? Know, that through this delusion, "I will confess afterwards," the devil has carried off thousands and thousands of Christians to hell. We shall hardly ever find a sinner so desperate as positively to resolve to damn himself: all, even when they commit sin, do so in the hope of future Confession. And thus have so many poor souls been lost, and now they can no longer repair the past.
Is it, then, O my God, because Thou hast been so good to me, that I have been thus ungrateful to Thee? We have been engaged in a contest--I to fly from Thee, and Thou to pursue me; Thou to do me good, and I to return Thee evil. Ah, my Lord, were there no other reason, Thy goodness alone towards me ought to enamour me of Thee, since whilst I have increased my sins, Thou hast increased Thy graces. And how have I merited the light Thou now givest me? My Lord, I thank Thee for it with my whole heart; and I hope to thank Thee for it for all eternity in Heaven.
II.
But you say: At present I do not feel strength to resist this temptation. Behold the second delusion of the devil, who makes it appear to you impossible to resist the present passion. In the first place, you must know that God, as the Apostle says, is faithful, and never permits us to be tempted above our strength: God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that which you are able. (1 Cor. x. 13). I ask of you, moreover, if you are not confident now of being able to resist, how can you hope to resist hereafter? Hereafter the devil will not fail to tempt you to other sins; and then he will have become much stronger against you, and you will be weaker. If, then, you feel you cannot now extinguish this flame, how can you hope to do so when it will be immeasurably greater. You say: God will aid me. But God aids you now; why, then, with this aid will you not resist? Do you hope, perchance, that God will increase His aids and His graces after you have increased the number of your sins? And if you now require greater help and strength, why do you not ask it of God? Do you, perhaps, doubt of the faithfulness of God, Who has promised to give all that is asked of Him? Ask, and it shall be given to you. (Matt. vii. 7). God cannot fail; have recourse to Him, and He will give you that strength which you need to resist. "God does not command impossibilities," says the Council of Trent; "but by commanding, both admonishes thee to do what thou art able, and to pray for what thou art not able (to do), and aids thee that thou mayest be able." God does not command what is impossible, but in imposing on us His precepts He admonishes us to do what we can with the actual aid He bestows on us; and should that aid prove insufficient for us to resist, He exhorts us to ask for more aid; and if we ask for it properly, He will certainly give it to us.
O dear Jesus, I come to Thee. I hope to be saved through Thy Blood; and I hope it with certainty, since Thou hast shown me such great mercy. In the meantime I hope Thou wilt give me strength never more to betray Thee. I purpose, with Thy grace, to die a thousand times rather than offend Thee any more. I have offended Thee enough; during the remainder of my life I will love Thee. And how can I but love a God, Who, after having died for me, has borne with me so patiently in spite of the many injuries I have done Him! O God of my soul, I repent with all my heart; I wish I could die of sorrow. But if in the past I have turned my back on Thee, I now love Thee above all things; I love Thee more than myself. Eternal Father, through the merits of Jesus Christ, succour a miserable sinner, who desires to love Thee. Mary, my hope, assist me; obtain for me the grace to have recourse always to thy Son and to thee, whenever the devil tempts me to sin again.
Spiritual Reading
INTERIOR MORTIFICATION
The second means to obtain the spirit of interior mortification is to resist the passions, and to beat them down before they acquire strength. If one of them becomes strong by habitual indulgence, the subjugation of it will be exceedingly difficult. "Lest cupidity," says St. Augustine, "should gain strength, strike it to the ground whilst it is weak." Sometimes it will happen that you will feel inclined to make use of an angry expression, or to entertain an affection for a certain person. If you do not resist these desires in the beginning, the slight wound, inflicted by your consent to them, shall soon become incurable. "Unless," says St. Ephrem, "you quickly take away the passions, they produce an ulcer." One of the ancient monks, as we learn from St. Dorotheus, has beautifully illustrated this doctrine. He commanded one of his disciples to pluck up a young cypress. The disciple executed the command without difficulty. The Superior then told him to pull up another tree of greater growth: to perform this task all the strength of the young monk was necessary. Lastly, the venerable Father commanded the disciple to tear up a tree which had taken deep root. In obedience to this precept, the young religious exerted all his strength; but his efforts were fruitless--the tree was immovable. Behold, said the old man, how easily our passions are rooted out in the beginning, and how difficult it is to conquer them after they have acquired strength and vigour by evil habits. This truth is confirmed by daily experience. If when you receive an insult you feel a motion of resentment, but you at once stifle the spark and silently offer to God the sacrifice of your feelings, the fire is extinguished, you escape unhurt, and even acquire merit before the Lord. But if you yield to the impulse of passion, if you pause to reflect on the insult you have received and manifest externally the feelings of your soul--that spark of resentment will soon be kindled into a flame of hatred.
The third means by which to acquire the spirit of interior mortification, is, as Cassian says, to endeavour to change the object of our passions, that thus the pernicious and vicious desires of the heart may become salutary and holy. Some are inclined to an inordinate love of all from whom they receive a favour. They should seek to change the object of this propensity, and to turn their affections to God Who is infinitely amiable, and Who has bestowed the most inestimable blessings upon them. Others are prone to anger against those who are opposed to them: they ought to direct their resentment against their own sins, which have done them more injury than all the devils in hell could inflict upon them. Others pant after honours and temporal goods: they should aspire to the goods and honours of God's eternal kingdom.
But to practise successfully this means of conquering our passions, frequent meditation on the Truths of Faith, frequent spiritual readings, and frequent reflections on the eternal maxims are indispensably necessary. And above all, it is necessary to impress deeply on the mind certain fundamental spiritual maxims, such as: "God alone deserves to be loved. Sin is the only evil which we ought to hate. Whatever God wills is good. All worldly goods shall have an end. The most insignificant action, performed for God's sake, is more profitable than the conversion of the whole world, effected from any other motive than the love of God. It is necessary to do what at the hour of death we would wish to have done. We ought to live on this earth as if there were nothing in existence but ourselves and God." He whose mind is continually filled with holy maxims suffers little molestation from earthly objects, and is always strong enough to resist his corrupt inclinations. The Saints kept their souls always occupied with the truths of eternity, and thus in the time of temptation, were almost insensible to the goods or the evils of this life. To conquer self-love, and to shake off the tyranny of passion, we must above all things pray without ceasing, and continually ask of God the assistance of His grace. He that prays, obtains all God's gifts. For every one that asketh receiveth. (Luke xi. 10). We ought especially to beg the gift of Divine love; for to him who loves God, nothing is difficult. Consideration and reflection assist us greatly in the practice of virtue; but in the observance of the Divine commands a single spark of the love of God affords more help than a thousand reflections and considerations. Acts of virtue which proceed from reflection are accompanied with labour and violence; but he that loves is not fatigued by doing what pleases his Beloved. "He that loves, labours not," says St. Augustine.
Evening Meditation
REFLECTIONS AND AFFECTIONS ON THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST
I.
St. Bonaventure sorrowfully exclaims, "The royal Blood is flowing; bruise is superadded to bruise, and gash to gash." That Divine Blood was already issuing from every pore: that Sacred Body had already become but one perfect Wound; yet those infuriated brutes did not forbear from adding blow to blow, as the Prophet had foretold: And they have added to the grief of my wounds. (Ps. lxviii. 27). So that the thongs had not only made the whole Body one Wound, but even bore away pieces of it into the air, until at length the gashes in that Sacred Flesh were such that the bones might have been counted: "The Flesh was so torn away that the bones could be numbered." Cornelius a Lapide says that in this torment Jesus Christ ought, naturally speaking, to have died; but He willed by His Divine power to keep Himself in life, in order to suffer yet greater pains for love of us; and St. Laurence Justinian had observed the same thing before: "He evidently ought to have died. Yet He reserved Himself unto life, it being His will to endure heavier sufferings."
Ah, my most loving Lord, Thou art worthy of an infinite love; Thou hast suffered so much in order that I may love Thee. Oh, never permit me, instead of loving Thee, to offend or displease Thee more! Oh, what place in hell should there not be set apart for me, if, after having known the love that Thou hast borne towards such a wretch, I should damn myself, despising a God Who had suffered scorn, smitings, and scourgings for me; and Who had, moreover, after having so often offended Him, so mercifully pardoned me! Ah, my Jesus, let it not, oh, let it not be thus! O my God, how would the love and patience which Thou hast shown me be a torture for me in hell, another hell even yet more full of torments!
II.
Cruel in excess to our Redeemer was this torture of His scourging, in the first place, because of the great number of those by whom it was inflicted; who, as was revealed to St. Mary Magdalen de Pazzi, were no fewer than sixty. And these, at the instigation of the devils, and even more so of the priests, who being afraid lest Pilate should, after this punishment, be minded to release the Lord, as he had already protested to them saying, I will therefore scourge him and let him go, aimed at taking away His life by means of the scourging. Again, all theologians agree with St. Bonaventure, that, for this purpose, the sharpest implements were selected, so that, as St. Anselm declares, every stroke produced a wound. Moreover, the number of the strokes amounted to several thousand, the flagellation being administered, as Father Crasset says, not after the manner of the Jews, for whom the Lord had forbidden that the number of strokes should ever exceed forty: Yet so, that they exceed not the number of forty; lest thy brother depart shamefully torn. (Deut. xxv. 3); but after the manner of the Romans, with whom there was no measure. And so it is related by Josephus, the Jew (who lived shortly after our Lord), that Jesus was torn in his scourging to such a degree that the bones of His ribs were laid bare; as it was also revealed by the most Holy Virgin to St. Bridget in these words "I, who was standing by, saw His body scourged to the very ribs, so that His ribs themselves might be seen. And what was even yet more bitter still, when the scourges were drawn back, His flesh was furrowed by them." To St. Teresa, Jesus revealed Himself in His scourging; so that the Saint wished to have Him painted exactly as she had seen Him, and told the painter to represent a large piece of flesh torn off, and hanging down from the left elbow; but when the painter enquired as to the shape in which he ought to paint it, he found, on turning round again to his picture, the piece of flesh already drawn. Ah, my beloved and adored Jesus, how much hast Thou suffered for love of me! Oh, let not so many pangs, and so much Blood be lost for me!
"So let us be confident, let us not be unprepared, let us not be outflanked, let us be wise, vigilant, fighting against those who are trying to tear the faith out of our souls and morality out of our hearts, so that we may remain Catholics, remain united to the Blessed Virgin Mary, remain united to the Roman Catholic Church, remain faithful children of the Church."- Abp. Lefebvre
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The Sacred Heart of Jesus loves us infinitely more than we love ourselves. Jesus has loved us even to excess. He has loved us more than His own honour, more than His repose, more than His very life. And is not this an excess of love sufficient to stupefy with astonishment the Angels of Paradise!
I.
Oh, if we could but understand the love that burns in the Heart of Jesus for us! He has loved us so much, that if all men, all the Angels, and all the Saints were to unite with all their energies, they could not arrive at the thousandth part of the love that Jesus bears to us. He loves us infinitely more than we love ourselves. He has loved us even to excess: They spoke of his decease (excess) which he was to accomplish in Jerusalem. (Luke ix. 31). And what greater excess of love could there be than for God to die for His creatures? He has loved us to the greatest degree: Having loved his own . . . he loved them unto the end. (John xiii. 1); since, after having loved us from eternity,--for there never was a moment from eternity when God did not think of us and did not love each one of us: I have loved thee with an everlasting love,--for the love of us He made Himself Man, and chose a life of sufferings and the death of the Cross for our sakes. Therefore He has loved us more than His honour, more than His repose, and more than His life; for He sacrificed everything to show us the love that He bears us. And is not this an excess of love sufficient to stupefy with astonishment the Angels of Paradise for all eternity? This love has induced Him also to remain with us in the Holy Sacrament as on a throne of love; for He remains there under the appearance of a small piece of bread, shut up in a Ciborium, where He seems to remain in perfect annihilation of His Majesty, without movement, and without the use of His senses; so that it seems that He performs no other office than that of loving men. Love makes us desire the constant presence of the object of our love. It is this love and this desire that makes Jesus Christ reside with us in the most Holy Sacrament.
O adorable Heart of my Jesus, Heart inflamed with the love of men, Heart created on purpose to love them, how is it possible that Thou canst be despised, and Thy love so ill corresponded to by men? Oh, miserable that I am, I also have been one of those ungrateful ones that have not loved Thee. Forgive me, my Jesus, this great sin of not having loved Thee Who art so amiable, and Who hast loved me so much that Thou canst do nothing more to oblige me to love Thee. I feel that I deserve to be condemned to be unable to love Thee, for having renounced Thy love, as I have hitherto done. But no, my dearest Saviour, give me any chastisement, but do not inflict this one upon me. Grant me the grace to love Thee, and then, give me any affliction Thou pleasest. But how can I fear such a chastisement, whilst I feel that Thou continuest to give me the sweet, the pleasing precept of loving Thee, my Lord and my God? "Love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart."
II.
It seemed too short a time to this loving Saviour to have been only thirty-three years with men on earth; therefore, in order to show His desire of being constantly with us, He thought right to perform the greatest of all miracles, in the institution of the Holy Eucharist. But the work of redemption was already completed, men had already become reconciled to God; for what purpose, then, did Jesus remain on earth in this Sacrament?
Ah, He remains there because He cannot bear to separate Himself from us, as He has said that He takes a delight in us. Again, this love has induced Him even to become the Food of our souls, so as to unite Himself to us, and to make His Heart and ours as one: He that eateth my flesh and drinketh my blood, abideth in me, and I in him. (John vi. 57). O wonder! O excess of Divine love! It was said by a servant of God: If any thing could shake my faith in the Eucharist, it would not be the doubt as to how the bread could become Flesh, or how Jesus could be in several places and confined into so small a space, because I should answer that God can do everything; but if I were asked how He could love men so much as to make Himself their Food, I have nothing else to answer but that this is a Mystery of Faith above my comprehension, and that the love of Jesus cannot be understood. O Love of Jesus, do Thou make Thyself known to men, and do Thou make Thyself loved.
Yes, O my God, Thou wouldst be loved by me, and I will love Thee; indeed, I will love none but Thee Who hast loved me so much. O Love of my Jesus, Thou art my Love. O Burning Heart of my Jesus, do Thou inflame my heart also. Do not permit me in future, even for a single moment, to live without Thy love; rather kill me, destroy me; do not let the world behold the spectacle of such horrid ingratitude as that I, who have been so beloved by Thee, and received so many favours and lights from Thee, should begin again to despise Thy love. No, my Jesus, permit it not. I trust in the Blood that Thou hast shed for me, that I shall always love Thee, and that Thou wilt always love me, and that this love between Thee and me will not be broken off for eternity. O Mary, Mother of fair love, thou who desirest so much to see Jesus loved, bind me, unite me with thy Son; but bind me to Him so that we may never again be separated.
Spiritual Reading
HEROES AND HEROINES OF THE FAITH
SAINTS PERPETUA AND FELICITAS AND COMPANIONS
(March 7)
St. Augustine makes frequent and honourable mention of these Saints in his Works, and was wont to hold them up to the people as examples of fidelity to Jesus Christ.
The Emperor Severus published an edict commanding all Christians who refused to sacrifice to the gods to be put to death; whereupon Minutius, the proconsul of Africa, caused five young persons to be arrested at Carthage, who were as yet catechumens, and, together with them, Saints Perpetua and Felicitas, Saturninus and Secundulus.
Perpetua was a young married woman, only twenty-two years of age, who led a very devout life, and had an only child. Felicitas was still younger, but also married, and a most exemplary person. The Martyrs were kept for some time in a private house, guarded by soldiers; during which time the father of St. Perpetua, came to see her, and being a Pagan, used all his endeavours to make her abandon the Faith. In the original Acts of these Martyrs, we find that the occurrences which took place up to the eve of their Martyrdom were written by Saint Perpetua herself: The following are the principal facts:
"My father," writes the Saint, "used all his endeavours to pervert me. I resolutely answered: 'Father, I am a Christian.' He instantly threw himself upon me in a rage, as if to tear out my eyes, and used the most injurious language. A few days afterwards, we all received holy Baptism, and were led to the public prison, where I was horrified by the darkness, the noisome smell, and the great heat occasioned by the number of prisoners. I had the happiness to have my child brought to me here, which greatly consoled me. My brother came to see me, and desired me to pray to the Lord to let me know whether I was to obtain the crown of Martyrdom. I accordingly placed myself in prayer, and saw, in a vision, a golden ladder which reached to the heavens; it was very narrow, and to the sides were fixed sharp knives and iron spikes. At the foot of this ladder was a dragon, which appeared ready to devour those that would attempt to mount it. The first that went up was a certain Christian named Saturus, who invited me to follow him. I ascended, and found myself in a spacious garden, where I met a man of very fine aspect, who said to me: 'Thou art welcome, my daughter.' After this vision I knew that we were all destined to suffer Martyrdom, and I told my brother so.
"My father came again to see me at the prison, and throwing himself at my feet in a flood of tears: 'Daughter,' he said, 'have pity on me, a poor old man, that am thy father; have pity, at least, on thy child, and bring not ruin upon us all by thy obstinacy.' I was pierced with grief, but remained immovable in my resolution.
"On the following day I was brought before the auditor, Hilarian, who, by reason of the death of the proconsul, acted as judge. My father appeared with me, holding my child in his arms, whereupon the judge said: 'Perpetua, have pity on thy father and on thy son--sacrifice to the gods.' I answered that I was a Christian, and that we were all ready to die for our Faith. The judge then condemned us to be devoured by wild beasts.
"We received the sentence with joy, and were brought back to prison, where we were met by my father, who tearing his hair and his beard, threw himself upon his face on the earth, lamenting that he lived to see that day. He once endeavoured to pull me off the platform, but the judge commanded him to be beaten off, and he received a blow with a stick, at which I was much grieved; but the Lord continued to grant me strength."*
*The Acts of the Martyrs tell us that St. Perpetua was favoured with wonderful visions. She had a young brother named Dinocrates, who died when he was only seven years of age, of a most hideous ulcer in the face. She recollected his death during her imprisonment; and having prayed for his repose, saw him in a vision, with the ulcer on his face, having a most squalid appearance, and endeavouring to drink from a vessel which he could not reach. After the vision she knew that her brother was in pain, and continued to pray fervently for his relief. She was accordingly favoured with a second vision, in which she saw him quite clean, refreshing himself with the water, and retaining only a scar where the ulcer had formerly been. "I knew," she says, "from this vision that he had been released from pain."
Secundulus died in prison of his sufferings, and Saturus had already obtained his crown. Felicitas desired to suffer with the rest, but she was with child, and the law forbade women to be put to death in that state. Her companions therefore prayed for her, and on that very day she was delivered of a daughter. The Saint moaned by reason of her pains, and one of the guards said to her: "Dost thou moan? What wilt thou do when thou shalt be devoured by wild beasts?" She answered: "It is now myself that suffers: but then I shall have Jesus Christ with me, and by His grace I will endure all things for His sake."
Upon the appointed day the Martyrs went forward to their execution with a joy that was manifest to all.
The other Saints having being torn by the wild beasts, Saints Perpetua and Felicitas were wrapped in nets and exposed to a mad cow. St. Perpetua was first attacked, and having been tossed in the air, she fell upon her back. Then sitting up, she perceived her clothes torn, and was endeavouring to cover herself when she was again knocked down; but recovering herself, she stretched forth her hand to raise St. Felicitas, whom she perceived prostrate upon the ground, much hurt. The populace were at length moved to compassion, and the two Saints were led into the centre of the amphitheatre, and dispatched by the gladiators. Thus did they receive, with their companions, the heavenly crown, on the 7th March, in the year 203.
St. Augustine cites the Acts of their Martyrdom, and Tertullian and St. Fulgentius have passed the most magnificent encomiums on Saints Perpetua and Felicitas. They are mentioned also in the Canon of the Mass. Their relics are in Rome.
Evening Meditation
REFLECTIONS AND AFFECTIONS ON THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST
I.
We read in history that several penitents, being enlightened by Divine light to see the malice of their sins, died of pure sorrow for them. Oh, what torment, then, must not the Heart of Jesus endure at the sight of all the sins of the world, all the blasphemies, sacrileges, acts of impurity, and all the other crimes which would be committed by men after His death, every one of which, like a wild beast, tore His Heart separately by its own malice! Wherefore our afflicted Lord, during His Agony in the Garden, exclaimed: Is this, therefore, O men, the reward that you render Me for My immeasurable love? Oh, if I could only see that, grateful for My affection, you gave up sin and began to love Me, with what delight should I not hasten to die for you! But to behold, after all My sufferings, so many sins; after so much love, such ingratitude--this is what afflicts Me the most, makes Me sorrowful even unto death, and makes Me sweat pure Blood: And his sweat became as drops of blood trickling down upon the ground. (Luke xxii. 44). So that, according to the Evangelist, this Bloody Sweat was so copious, that it first drenched all the vestments of our Blessed Redeemer, and then came forth in streams and bathed the ground.
Ah, my loving Jesus, I do not behold in this Garden either scourges or thorns or nails that pierce Thee; how, then, is it that I see Thee all bathed in Blood from Thy head to Thy feet? Alas, my sins were the cruel press which, by dint of affliction and sorrow, forced so much Blood from Thy Heart. I was, then, one of Thy most cruel executioners, who contributed the most to crucify Thee with my sins. It is certain that, if I had sinned less, Thou, my Jesus, wouldst have suffered less. As much pleasure, therefore, as I have taken in offending Thee, so much the more did I increase the sorrow of Thy Heart, already full of anguish. How, then, does not this thought make me die of grief, when I see that I have repaid the love Thou hast shown me in Thy Passion by adding to Thy sorrow and suffering! I, then, have tormented this Heart, so loving and so worthy of love, which has shown so much love to me. My Lord, since I have now no other means left of consoling Thee than to weep over my offences towards Thee, I will now, my Jesus, sorrow for them and lament over them with my whole heart. Oh, give me, I pray Thee, as great sorrow for them as may make me to my last breath weep over the displeasure I have caused Thee, my God, my Love, my All.
II.
He fell upon his face. (Matt. xxvi. 39). Jesus, beholding Himself charged with the burden of satisfying for all the sins of the world, prostrated Himself, with His face on the ground, to pray for men, as if He were ashamed to raise His eyes towards Heaven, loaded as He was with such iniquities. O my Redeemer, I behold Thee pale and worn out with sorrow; Thou art in the agony of death, and Thou dost pray: And being in an agony, he prayed the longer. (Luke xxii. 43). Tell me, my Saviour, for whom dost Thou pray? Ah, Thou didst not pray so much for Thyself at that hour as for me; Thou didst offer to Thy Eternal Father Thy all-powerful prayers, united to Thy sufferings, to obtain for me, a wretched sinner, the pardon of my sins: Who, in the days of his flesh with a strong cry and tears, offering up prayers and supplications to him that was able to save him from death, was heard for his reverence. (Heb. v. 7). O my beloved Redeemer, how is it possible that Thou couldst love so much one who has so grievously offended Thee? How couldst Thou embrace such sufferings for me, foreseeing, as Thou didst, all the ingratitude of which I should be guilty towards Thee?
O my afflicted Lord, make me share in that sorrow which Thou didst then have for my sins. I abhor them at this present moment, and I unite this my hatred to the horror that Thou didst feel for them in the Garden. O my Saviour, look not upon my sins; for hell itself would not be sufficient to expiate them, but look upon the sufferings that Thou hast endured for me! O love of my Jesus, Thou art my Love and my Hope. O my Lord, I love Thee with my whole soul, and will always love Thee. I beseech Thee, through the merits of that weariness and sadness which Thou didst endure in the Garden, give me fervour and courage in all works that may contribute to Thy glory. Through the merits of Thy Agony, grant me Thy assistance to resist all the temptations of the flesh and of hell. My God, grant me the grace always to commend myself to Thee, and always to repeat to Thee, with Jesus Christ: Not as I will, but as thou willest. May Thy Divine will, not mine, be ever done. Amen.
"So let us be confident, let us not be unprepared, let us not be outflanked, let us be wise, vigilant, fighting against those who are trying to tear the faith out of our souls and morality out of our hearts, so that we may remain Catholics, remain united to the Blessed Virgin Mary, remain united to the Roman Catholic Church, remain faithful children of the Church."- Abp. Lefebvre
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St. Bonaventure asks: "O Lady, tell me--where didst thou stand? Was it only at the foot of the Cross? Ah, much more than this. Thou wert on the Cross itself, crucified with thy Son!" Mary suffered in her heart all that Jesus suffered in His Body. Who shall heal thee, O Mary, since that very Son Who alone could give thee consolation was by His sufferings the sole cause of thine.
I.
St. Bonaventure remarks that "those wounds which were scattered over the Body of our Lord, were all united in the single heart of Mary." Thus was our Blessed Lady, through the compassion of her loving heart for her Son, scourged, crowned with thorns, insulted, and nailed to the Cross. Whence the same Saint, considering Mary on Mount Calvary, present at the death of her Son, questions her in these words: "O Lady, tell me, where didst thou stand? Was it only at the foot of the Cross? Ah, much more than this, thou wast on the Cross itself, crucified with thy Son." Richard of St. Laurence, on the words of the Redeemer, spoken by Isaias the Prophet: I have trodden the wine-press alone, and of the Gentiles there is not a man with me (Is. lxiii. 3), says, "It is true, O Lord, that in the work of human redemption Thou didst suffer alone, and that there was not a man who sufficiently pitied Thee; but there was a woman with Thee, and she was Thine own Mother; she suffered in her heart all that Thou didst endure in Thy body."
But all this is saying too little of Mary's sorrows, since she suffered more in witnessing the sufferings of her beloved Jesus than if she herself had endured all the outrages and death of her Son. Erasmus, speaking of parents in general, says that "they are more cruelly tormented by their children's sufferings than by their own." This is not always true, but in Mary it evidently was so; for it is certain that she loved her Son and His life beyond all comparison more than herself or a thousand lives of her own. Therefore, Blessed Amadeus rightly affirms that "the afflicted Mother, at the sorrowful sight of the torments of her beloved Jesus, suffered far more than she would have done had she herself endured His whole Passion." The reason is evident, for, as St. Bernard says, "the soul is more where it loves than where it lives." Our Lord Himself had already said the same thing: where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. (Luke xii. 34). If Mary then, by love, lived more in her Son than in herself, she must have endured far greater torments in the sufferings and death of her Son than she would have done had the most cruel death in the world been inflicted upon her.
II.
The Martyrs suffered under the torments inflicted on them by tyrants; but the love of Jesus rendered their pains sweet and agreeable. St. Vincent was tortured on a rack, torn with pincers, burnt with red-hot iron plates; but, as St. Augustine remarks, "it seemed as if it was one who suffered, and another who spoke." The Saint addressed the tyrant with such energy and contempt for his torments, that it seemed as if one Vincent suffered and another spoke; so greatly did God strengthen him with the sweetness of His love in the midst of all he endured. St. Boniface had his body torn with iron hooks; sharp-pointed reeds were thrust between his nails and flesh; melted lead was poured into his mouth; and in the midst of all this he was heard saying, "I give Thee thanks, O Lord Jesus Christ." A St. Mark and a St. Marcellinus were bound to a stake, their feet pierced with nails; and when the tyrant addressed them, saying: "Wretches, see to what a state you are reduced; save yourselves from these torments," they answered: "Of what pains, of what torments dost thou speak? We never enjoyed so luxurious a banquet as in the present moment, in which we joyfully suffer for the love of Jesus Christ." St. Laurence suffered, but when roasting on the gridiron, "the interior flame of love," says St. Leo, "was more powerful in comforting his soul than the flame without in torturing his body." Hence love rendered him so courageous that he mocked the tyrant, saying: "If thou desirest to feed on my flesh, a part is sufficiently roasted; turn it, and eat." But how, in the midst of so many torments, in that prolonged death, could the Saint thus rejoice? "Ah!" replies St. Augustine, "inebriated with the wine of Divine love, he felt neither torments nor death."
So that the more the holy Martyrs loved Jesus, the less did they feel their torments and death; and the sight alone of the sufferings of a crucified God was sufficient to console them. But was our suffering Mother also consoled by love for her Son, and the sight of His torments? Ah, no; for this very Son Who suffered was the whole cause of them, and the love she bore Him was her only and most cruel executioner; for Mary's whole Martyrdom consisted in beholding and pitying her innocent and beloved Son, Who suffered so much. Hence, the greater her love for Him the more bitter and inconsolable was her grief. Great as the sea is thy destruction; who shall heal thee? (Lam. ii. 13). Ah, Queen of Heaven, love hath mitigated the sufferings of other Martyrs, and healed their wounds; but who hath ever soothed thy bitter grief? Who hath ever healed the too cruel wounds of thy heart? Who shall heal thee, since that very Son Who could give Thee consolation was, by His sufferings, the sole cause of thine, and the love which thou didst bear Him was the whole ingredient of Thy Martyrdom.
Spiritual Reading
FASTING IN HONOUR OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN
There are many devout clients of Mary who, to honour her, fast on bread and water on Saturdays, and the Vigils of her Feasts.
It is well known that Saturday is dedicated by the Holy Church to Mary, because, as St. Bernard says, on that day, the day after the death of her Son, she remained constant in Faith. Therefore, Mary's clients are careful to honour her on that day by some particular devotion, and especially by fasting on bread and water, as did St. Charles Borromeo, Cardinal Tolet, and so many others. Nittardo, Bishop of Bamberg, and Father Joseph Arriaga, of the Society of Jesus, took no food at all on that day.
The great graces that the Mother of God has dispensed to those who do this are recorded by Father Auriemma. Let one example suffice: it is that of a famous captain of brigands, who, on account of this devotion, was preserved in life after his head had been cut off, and was thus enabled to make his Confession; for the unfortunate creature was in a state of sin. After Confession he declared that, on account of this devotion, the Blessed Virgin had obtained for him so great a grace, and immediately expired.
It would not, then, be anything very great, for a person who pretends to be devout to Mary, and particularly for one who has perhaps already deserved hell, to offer her this fast on Saturdays. I affirm that those who practise this devotion can hardly be lost; not that I mean to say that if they die in mortal sin the Blessed Virgin will deliver them by a miracle, as she did this bandit: these are prodigies of Divine mercy which very rarely occur, and it would be the height of folly to expect eternal salvation by such means; but I say, that for those who practise this devotion, the Divine Mother will make perseverance in God's grace easy, and obtain them a good death. All the members of our little Congregation, who are able to do so, practise this devotion. I say those who are unable to do so; and if our health does not permit it, at least we should on Saturdays content ourselves with one dish, or observe an ordinary fast, or abstain from fruit or something for which we have a relish. On Saturdays we should always practise some devotion in honour of our Blessed Lady, receive Holy Communion, or at least hear Mass, visit an image of Mary, wear a hair-cloth, or something of that sort. But at least on the Vigils of her Seven Principal Festivals, her clients should either offer her this fast on bread and water, or honour her otherwise as best they can.
Evening Meditation
REFLECTIONS AND AFFECTIONS ON THE PASSION OF JESUS CHRIST
I.
From the Scriptures alone it clearly appears how barbarous and inhuman was the scourging of Jesus Christ. For why was it that Pilate should, after the scourging, ever have shown Him to the people, saying, Behold the man! were it not that our Saviour was reduced to so pitiable a condition that Pilate believed the very sight of Him would have moved His enemies themselves to compassion, and hindered them from any longer demanding His death? Why was it that in the journey which Jesus, after this, made to Calvary, the Jewish women followed Him with tears and lamentations? But there followed him a great multitude of the people, and of women, who bewailed and lamented him. (Luke xxiii. 27). Was it, perhaps, because those women loved Him and believed Him to be innocent? No, the women, for the most part, agree with their husbands in opinion; so that they, too, esteemed Him guilty; but the appearance of Jesus after His scourging was so shocking and pitiable, as to move even those who hated Him to tears; and therefore it was that the women gave vent to their tears and sighs. Why, again, was it that in this journey the Jews took the Cross from off His shoulders, and gave it the Cyrenean to carry? According to the most probable opinion, and as the words of St. Matthew clearly show: They compelled him to bear his cross. (Matt. xxvii. 32); or as St. Luke says: And on him they laid the cross, that he might carry it after Jesus. (Luke xxiii. 26). Was it, perhaps, that they felt pity for Him, and wished to lessen His pains? No, those guilty men hated Him, and sought to afflict Him to their uttermost. But as the Blessed Denis the Carthusian says, "They feared lest He should die upon the way "; seeing that Our Lord after the scourging was so drained of Blood and so exhausted of strength as to be scarcely able any longer to stand, falling down as He did on His road under the Cross, and faltering as He went at every step, as if at the point of death. Therefore, in order to take Him alive to Calvary, and see Him die upon the Cross, according to their desire, that His name might ever after be one of infamy: Let us cut him off, said they (as the Prophet had foretold), from the land of the living, and let his name be remembered no more (Jer. xi. 19), -- this was the end for which they constrained the Cyrenean to bear the Cross.
Ah, my Lord, great is my happiness in understanding how much Thou hast loved me, and that Thou dost even now preserve for me the same love which Thou didst bear me then, in the time of Thy Passion! But how great is my sorrow at the thought of having offended so good a God! By the merit of Thy scourging, O my Jesus, I ask Thy pardon. I repent, above every other evil, of having offended Thee; and I purpose rather to die than offend Thee again. Pardon me all the wrongs that I have done Thee, and give me the grace ever to love Thee for the time to come.
II.
The Prophet Isaias has described more clearly than all the pitiable state to which He foresaw our Redeemer reduced. He said that His most holy Flesh would have to be not merely wounded, but altogether bruised and crushed to pieces: But he was wounded for our iniquities, he was bruised for our sins. (Isaias liii. 3). For (as the Prophet goes on to say) the Eternal Father, the more perfectly to satisfy His justice, and to make mankind understand the deformity of sin, was not content without beholding His Son pounded piecemeal, as it were, and torn to shreds by the scourges: And the Lord willed to bruise him in infirmity (Is. liii.); so that the Blessed Body of Jesus had to become like the body of a leper, all wounds from head to foot: And we esteemed him as a leper, and one smitten of God. (Is. liii.).
Behold, then, O my lacerated Lord, the condition to which our iniquities have reduced Thee: "O good Jesus, it is ourselves who sinned, and dost Thou bear the penalty of it?" Blessed for evermore be Thy exceeding charity; and mayest Thou be beloved as Thou dost deserve by all sinners; and, above all, by me, who have done Thee more injury than others.
Jesus one day manifested Himself under His scourging to Sister Victoria Angelini; and, showing her His body one mass of wounds, said to her: "These Wounds, Victoria, every one of them ask thee for love." "Let us love the Bridegroom," said the loving St. Augustine, "and the more He is presented to us veiled under deformity, the more precious and sweet is He made to the bride." Yes, my sweet Saviour, I see Thee all covered with wounds; I look into Thy beautiful Face; but, O my God, it no longer wears its beautiful appearance, but is disfigured and blackened with blood and bruises, and shameful spittings: There is no beauty in him, nor comeliness: and we beheld him, and esteemed him not. (Is. liii.). But the more I see Thee so disfigured, O my Lord, the more beautiful and lovely dost Thou appear to me. And what are these disfigurements that I behold but signs of the tenderness of that love which Thou dost bear towards me?
I love Thee, my Jesus, thus wounded and torn to pieces for me; would that I could see myself, too, torn to pieces for Thee, like so many Martyrs whose portion this has been. But if I cannot offer Thee wounds and blood, I offer Thee at least all the pains which it will be my lot to suffer. I offer Thee my heart; with this I desire to love Thee more tenderly even than I am able. And who is there that my soul should love more tenderly than a God Who has endured scourging and been drained of His Blood for me? I love Thee, O God of love! I love Thee, O Infinite Goodness! I love Thee, O my Love, my All! I love Thee, and I would never cease from saying, both in this life and in the other: I love Thee, I love Thee, I love Thee. Amen.
"So let us be confident, let us not be unprepared, let us not be outflanked, let us be wise, vigilant, fighting against those who are trying to tear the faith out of our souls and morality out of our hearts, so that we may remain Catholics, remain united to the Blessed Virgin Mary, remain united to the Roman Catholic Church, remain faithful children of the Church."- Abp. Lefebvre
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"So let us be confident, let us not be unprepared, let us not be outflanked, let us be wise, vigilant, fighting against those who are trying to tear the faith out of our souls and morality out of our hearts, so that we may remain Catholics, remain united to the Blessed Virgin Mary, remain united to the Roman Catholic Church, remain faithful children of the Church."- Abp. Lefebvre
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