CHAPTER III

RITA'S CHARITY

What constitutes the greatness of the mystic city, the new Jerusalem, is not the number and variety of its inhabitants, or the fame of great undertakings, but charity alone. In fact, the Virgin Mary was exalted above all the choirs of heaven, and St. John the Baptist was called the greatest of the saints even before the testimony at the Jordan, although their lives were nothing more than a continuous exercise of charity. Hence, coming to speak of Rita, if she had charity she possessed all things,[1] since the fulness of the law is charity, and if she had it in an eminent degree she was a great saint, for perfect charity is perfect justice.[2] This is the sublime principle which St. Augustine, himself a great master of charity and evangelical perfection, proposes in that golden Rule of his, which so many religious Orders have adopted, and which Rita observed to the last letter--a principle which, as Blessed Alphonsus of Oroza says, is a summary of the entire Christian religion, and which at the same time proves the excellence and the adaptability of the Rule to all ages.

It was to the attainment of charity that Rita even before her profession, but more determinedly afterwards, gave her undivided attention, and employed all the affections of her heart and the powers of her mind. We leave it to others to describe her heroic faith and hope; for us it will be enough to treat of that virtue which presupposes the other two--embraces them and gives them their life. The first proof that one possesses this virtue is fulfilling the will of God by observing His holy law, as Jesus Christ taught us when He said: 'He that hath My commandments, and keepeth them: he it is that loveth Me. And He that loveth Me shall be loved of My Father, and I will love him, and will manifest Myself to him.'[3] Now, all those who have written the life of our saint and the evidence of tradition regarding her assure us that she observed with the utmost exactness all the commandments of God, the precepts of the Church, and the commands of her superiors. The very manner with which she observed these precepts was perfect, for she always obeyed cheerfully, and with joy readily and exactly sought to anticipate commands, and to exceed in fulfilling them. And this exact observance was extended not only to what is of command, but to the evangelical counsels also, and yet so light to her was the weight of this burden that she took upon herself very many works of supererogation to give an outlet to her burning piety. She was the first to rise from her bed at midnight, the first at prayer, in the choir, at instruction, at penitential observances and the works of mercy, in obedience, first at all the duties of the community, in which latter she was always best pleased the meaner the office entrusted to her to perform. In the midst of her uninterrupted occupations and vigils she had no other thought than to find the safest ways of seconding the holy will of God, a thought that produced in her that holy fear which is the offspring of love. She was always afraid of offending her most loving God even in the slightest matter, and so fearsome of it was she that the very name of sin was a horror to her. Hence, to remove as far as possible all danger of sin, she imposed on herself a law of rigorous silence, for she knew the truth of the saying of St. James the Apostle, that 'if any man offend not in word, the same is a perfect man.'[4] In order more easily to carry out her design she remained shut up in her cell alone with her agonized Spouse Jesus, like a 'dove in the clefts of the rock, in the hollow places of the wall.'[5] She never left her cell except to find her sovereign good either in the Blessed Sacrament or amongst the poor and sick, or in such other works of charity as her state permitted her to perform. Even in circumstances such as these she was on her guard to utter no word that she had not weighed well, and it is said of her that she even used to keep a pebble in her mouth to remind her to preserve the silence she loved.

Sometimes, of course, she had to speak, through necessity or politeness, or for convenience' sake, and in such cases her words were in accord with the feelings of her heart, and hence, since she was all spirit, her discourses were on things of the spirit; she was all charity, and her speech therefore tended to the greater glory of God and the salvation of her neighbours. She was not wanting in that easy fluency which springs from the heart and can reach hearts, which is proper to the saints and inspires sanctity, which feeds on love and draws souls to God. Whether Rita possessed this honied eloquence from the time the wonderful bees appeared over her cradle, or acquired it by the practice of the greatest charity towards her neighbour, only God, who gave it to her, knows. We only know that she made use of the opportunities which this gift afforded her to give advice to doubting souls, to comfort the pusillanimous, to console the afflicted, to bring back the erring to the way of salvation, to practise these and other works of mercy with that happy success which the Giver of every good gift was wont to grant her.

Amongst her wonderful deeds of charity we find it recorded that having heard of two persons of the town who had been long living in a state of sin, and were thereby the cause of great public scandal, she wept for their sins, and then determined on the difficult task of making them separate and leading them to repent. Rita had had too many proofs of the Divine goodness not to be confident of success in her present undertaking. She first had recourse to prayer and to penance, which she offered in union with the sufferings of Jesus Christ for the conversion of the sinners, and then had each of the scandal-givers brought to her in turn, and, alone with them, by her gentle insinuating manner she brought them to see their deplorable condition, and she had the happiness of seeing them shed tears of compunction and afterwards perform constant penance for their past transgressions. In very truth, such evils as those under which these two sinners laboured were what excited Rita's greatest compassion, but she was by no means wanting in compassion for those suffering from bodily ills, nor was her fervent charity slow in coming to their assistance. Never was anyone ill in the convent whom Rita did not nurse, often for whole days and nights. She saw in the sick Jesus Christ Himself, and therefore delighted to be by their bedsides. She pitied them, and sought to soothe their pains by the sweet considerations which religion, and especially the Passion of Christ, inspired her. With her own hands she gladly rendered them every service, even the meanest and most nauseating, and for this blessed work of charity she did not hesitate to forsake her usual devotional practices, and feared not to leave God for God's work. In a word, she was all things to all, for, as St. Paul, too, had experienced, her compassion made the infirmities of the suffering her own. And therefore all those who died in the convent during her forty years of life in it had the happiness of having her for their attendant and consoler, and drew their last breath in her holy arms, reclining against her tender heart. Her very charity was the reason which condemned her for many years to a total separation from her beloved sisters in religion, lest, as we shall tell later, the offensive odour of a sore on her forehead, by which she was afflicted, might render her presence disagreeable to them. She then saw very well that she had become almost an outcast from the community, but she felt no resentment on that account, but lived as an exile, contented in her cell, since she knew that she was no inconvenience to her neighbour, and gave no offence to God. She even rejoiced in her humiliation and in her infirmities and her separation from creatures. We omit many other proofs of the greatness of the charity to God and her neighbour which filled Rita's heart. In order to know her charity we have but to recall how she lived with a cruel and ferocious husband, how she interceded for his murderers, how she offered her very children as a sacrifice to God, how she devoted her time in the world to deeds and prayers for her neighbour's good. Such was her charity, heartfelt, unbounded, kind, patient, strong, and unconquerable.

Hitherto we have spoken only of Rita's effective or working charity, or, at most, of her love to her neighbour, but what description dare we give of her internal love of God? It would never be possible for us to describe the ardour and fire of love which was ever consuming her heart. How her affections soared towards heaven, how her soul was transformed through Divine love, how the interior life of that seraph of charity was lived, it would be impossible to describe. However, we shall try to convey an idea, though imperfect, of it, especially when we come to speak of her spirit of prayer. Meanwhile, the reader may form some notion of it by gauging the measure of Rita's charity to her neighbour, and from the consideration of what we have hitherto described of a life not only blameless and holy, but everywhere aided and distinguished by heaven's most singular favours.

[1] 1 Cor. xiii.

[2] St. Augustine.

[3] John xiv. 21.

[4] Jas. iii. 2.

[5] Cant. ii. 14.