Part 14

But is it enough just barely to fulfil the commandment in this way? No, it is not. One who does not go farther, runs a very great risk of being lost. The fact is, to maintain one's self in an habitual horror of mortal sin requires a great deal of fervor and recollection. In order to do so, one must also aim at avoiding every deliberate sin, small or great; one must really be in earnest to please God, or, in other words, one must strive to fulfil the commandment of the text with a good degree of perfection. That is plain enough to the dullest comprehension. A man may get over an ordinary difficulty well enough, but when a great one comes in his way, he requires all his strength and resolution to overcome it. {273} So the ordinary temptations may be avoided, but there come times which try the soul, great temptations, or unusual difficulties, and great fervor is necessary to overcome them. They come just when least expected, when one is off his guard. Unless one maintains himself, then, in this state of fervor, so as to be prepared for these occasions, he must fall. A ship that is strong enough for fair weather, goes down in a strong gale of wind. A drowsy sentinel may serve as well as another for awhile, but when suddenly beset by an enemy, is slain before he can get ready to defend himself; so the Christian, who goes on the principle of keeping clear of mortal sin, but makes light of lesser sins, will be sure to come to a grievous fall at last. "_He that despiseth small things_," the Scripture says, "_shall fall by little and little_." [Footnote 116]

[Footnote 116: Ecclus. xix., 1.]

[Transcriber's note: Ecclesiastes ends with chapter 12. Sirach xix. 1. reads "Whoever does this grows no richer; those who waste the little they have will be stripped bare."]

The man who goes on the principle of gratifying his passions as much as he can short of mortal sin, will never stop there. He will overleap his boundary, as surely as the sun goes down at the close of day, as surely as the water that eats out the sand from the foundations of a house will finally bring it to ruin. {274} Such a person is not only in danger of ruin in the world to come, but loses the peace and consolation which the servants of God ought to have in this world. There is too much selfishness about him. He is trying to join together two things as contrary as God and the world--an impossibility, as God Himself says: "_No man can serve two masters, for either he will love the one and hate the other, or he will hold to the one and despise the other. Ye cannot serve God and mammon_." [Footnote 117]

[Footnote 117: Matt. vi., 24.]

Now, the Lord intended to remove these evils, to show us a sure and safe way to everlasting life, and to fill our souls habitually with a heavenly peace and consolation, by enjoining on us to fulfil this commandment with perfection, and, as the words sound--"_with all our hearts, and with all our souls, and with all our mind, and with all our strength_." I think this is enough to prove conclusively the necessity of such fulfilment; now let us see how it is to be done.

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But, at the very outset, a great repugnance and distaste will arise, I doubt not, in the minds of many, at hearing these strong words of the text. It will seem to be asking too much--more than they can dream of fulfilling. In their idea, it would seem an impossibility, even if they had the best will in the world. "What," says the father of a family, "give my whole soul and mind to God? To take care of my children, to put bread in their mouths and clothes on their backs, takes up, and must take up the principal part of my time and attention. I must attend to my business, and use all my skill and prudence and activity to make all things meet. I can not do as the old hermits of the desert did, pass my time in constant prayer and meditation." "What," says the mother, "give all my strength and all my mind to God! How can I do it? I must expend all my strength going up and down stairs, in the kitchen, in the dining-room, in my own room sewing and mending, to keep every thing decent for the children. I must teach them, and look out for them. One thing or another takes up my time and attention the whole day, so that, when night comes round, I am glad enough to get to bed and to sleep as quick as I can." {276} "What," says the young woman, just growing out of her girlhood, "give my whole heart to God, when this dear old world is so pleasant, and I have such fine times in it?" Alas! not the young woman only, but the young man, and the old man and the old woman, too, are apt enough to speak in this way. Dissipation and pleasure keep such a hold upon them, that they seem to be more giddy and foolish as they grow older. And another cry comes up from all quarters: "How can I give my whole heart and soul to God, when the troubles and sorrows of the world, its cares and anxieties and disappointments fill me with bitterness and rage, and excite every evil passion? In this miserable world there is no such thing as tranquillity or peace, and how, without these, can the whole heart be given to God?"

Now, dear brethren, whoever you may be who speak or who think in this way, put down that feeling a little while; listen with patience while I propose to you a means of fulfilling Christ's commandment which will smooth away these difficulties, and enable you to do so in a manner most pleasant and agreeable to you. {277} I do not pretend that this means takes away from you all necessity of exertion--all effort and care to do right. No, the words of Christ must hold true: "_Strive to enter into the straight gate_," He says. "_Fight the good fight_," says St. Paul. The prize of our high calling is too valuable to be had without being in earnest about it. But I can venture to say, that by the method I propose, it is by no means so difficult a thing to fulfil Christ's commandment as you may suppose; that, with a little patience and perseverance, it will become an easy and agreeable thing to do so. What is this method? It is--_to excite and keep in your souls an ardent desire to love God_.

This desire will do every thing, if it is strong and lively. Now, the desire to love God is a thing natural to the soul. How so? Why, thus. We naturally desire what is good--what will conduce to our interest, our pleasure or profit. We express this by the very word "desirable." As soon as we become acquainted with the value of any thing to us, we desire it, and our desire for it is in proportion to our appreciation of it. So a good name is more desired among noble-minded men than the possession of riches--a substantial wealth, more than the pleasure of the senses. {278} Now, what is more desirable than God? To possess Him, is to possess all that is good, all that is beautiful, all that is honorable, all that makes happiness. As soon as we know, even imperfectly, what God is, a strong desire to possess Him must arise in the soul. It may be transitory, quickly fade away and lost sight of, through the things of the world which occupy the attention, but, whenever we reflect on it, that desire must--it is impossible that it should not--rise up in the soul. This transitory desire, which passes away like a vapor, is of little or no value; it does not last long enough to produce any practical impression. It is what is called a _velleity_, or ineffectual wish, if it is not nourished and made permanent, so as to influence one's life.

But since this desire to love God is natural to one who knows what He is, it must be, therefore, an excellent and easy means to acquire a high degree of that love. It is like the oar in the hands of the rower. It is like the wing by which a bird mounts high in the air. Why, as soon as this desire acquires force enough to control the will (and any strong desire is sure to do so), we cannot separate the desire to love God from the love of God itself. {279} God does not measure our love to Him by our feelings, for we may seem to ourselves to have little, while our will shows that we love Him dearly. The trouble then with us, and I may say our only trouble is, that we do not enough desire to love Him; that we do not keep that desire bright and lively in our souls. Surely we have abundant reason for it! Besides the loveliness of God attracting us, our eternal destiny depends upon it--heaven and hell. Only let us turn over in our minds the vast importance of loving God, and we must be compelled to cry out with intense desire: "Oh, that I did love God with all my heart, with all my soul, with all my mind and strength!" I say, then, excite this desire; think, and think every day, on these simple things: Who am I? Who is God? What has God made me for? What is the world and all in it, compared to the love of God? Or, as the Gospel reads, "_What shall it profit me to gain the whole world, if I suffer the loss of my soul?_" Perhaps this fire of desire is almost out in your soul; but there is still fire there--there is one coal at least burning yet. {280} Blow it into a flame! Keep on blowing, and that fire will be sure to spread, until the whole heap is in a blaze. You see, all that is required of you is to think, to reflect. Put your mind upon it with earnestness; and the desire of God must speedily gain the mastery of your soul. When it does so, it will regulate all its motions, and make every thing that was before so unnatural and difficult seem wonderfully easy.

Let us see how it would fare then with sin. Only keep that ardent desire to love God burning in your soul, and you will find it a very hard thing to commit any deliberate sin. It is a maxim in physical science that two bodies cannot occupy the same space at the same time. One must displace the other. So, I say, two strong desires, that are opposed to each other, cannot stay together in one heart. Either one or the other must give way and yield possession. So our Lord said long ago under cover of this comparison: "_When a strong man armed keepeth his court, those things which he possesseth are in peace. But if one stronger than he cometh upon him and overcome him, he will take away all his armor wherein he trusted, and distribute his spoils_." [Footnote 118]

[Footnote 118: St. Luke xi., 21, 22.]

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The strong desire for God's love will take away from the desire for sin all its armor, all its strength, and leave it powerless to hurt us. It had a peaceable possession of the soul before, because nothing seriously disputed its right to govern, but now the desire to love God has made it hateful and loathsome. The strong man has become weak as an infant. When we fix our eyes on sin, perhaps its allurements, and the force of old habits, may make it so attractive, that it would gain the mastery once more. Certainly it would make a desperate struggle for the mastery. But let us look up to God! Let us consider how necessary, how desirable in every view is his love, until we become resolved that at least we will long for it, and continue longing for it, as long as life is long; saying with the royal Psalmist: "_As the hart panteth after the fountains of water, so panteth my soul after thee, God_." [Footnote 119]

[Footnote 119: Ps. xli. 1.]

[Transcriber's note: The USCCB reference is Ps. xlii. 2.]

Then will all those allurements and attractions of sin vanish. We shall only wonder how such miserable things could have blinded us so long.

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We all know how strong and engrossing the passion of earthly love is. The lover is taken with some real or fancied perfection of his mistress, either a beautiful face, a noble figure, or, it may be, with what is far more to be prized, some noble qualities of the mind or disposition. His whole mind is taken up with her night and day, and his only study is, how he may recommend his suit. If encouraged with the prospect of success, transports of joy fill his soul; if met by neglect and indifference, he is plunged into the deepest melancholy. If parents or relatives put obstacles in the way, heaven and earth are moved to get them out of the way. This is the burden of so many novels and romances that are read with eagerness by people of every condition and every class of society. If the desire of earthly beauty, of body or soul, so imperfect, so unsatisfying, so short-lived, can thus engross the soul of man, why should not the desire of God's love, who is perfect beauty, perfect wisdom, perfect goodness, and our promised portion for ever and ever, be able to do far more? It will remove all obstacles out of the way. {283} We shall say, as did St. Agnes to her admirer and tempter: "Depart from me thou food for death, for I am betrothed to Him whom the angels serve, whose beauty sun and moon admire." Every creature that breathes is food for death. Sin is the food of eternal death. The idea that mortal sin brings eternal death, eternal separations from this infinite beauty and goodness, must make us regard it with the same horror that fills the soul at the sight of a ferocious tiger or deadly serpent. It will make the occasions of sin hateful, and cause the soul to exclaim: "Away from me, ye frightful temptations! I know you: Ye bear the serpent's tongue and the tiger's claw. Ye carry with you the risk of God's anger and my eternal ruin." Who that loves God, or desires to love Him, could venture into any place, into the society of any person, where the danger of mortal sin is lurking, since he knows that mortal sin is banishment from God?

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This sacred desire would also consume every kind of deliberate sin, whether great or small. This is the language of a heart that longs after divine love. "Oh! how can I admit this, it is sinful; it will cool away the fervor of my soul, it will prevent me from making that near approach to God's love which I so much covet." Cursing and swearing, lying, slandering, pilfering, and every form of dishonesty, all immodesty in deed, word or thought, anger and foolish pride--how would these all disappear before such a fervent desire! And all this would be accomplished without any violence to the soul, quietly, but powerfully and effectually, and even with delight and satisfaction. For is it not a joy to follow where our heart's desires lead? But this holy desire leads toward God, and away from sin.

Again, this ardent desire to love God more and more will make it easy and pleasant to us to perform all our duties. We cannot work without a motive, without proposing something to ourselves which appears good in our eyes. If the work to be done is arduous or difficult, the motive or inducement must be a strong one. Such a strong motive will render what is difficult easy. How easy it is for men to take the longest journeys, endure the greatest labors, when their souls are fired with the desire of providing for their beloved ones at home, or with a noble ambition to serve their country, or even for the miserable pursuit of gain. {285} Only hold out the prospect of success, and any amount of labor seems light to them. Cannot the motive of God's love do as much? Is it not as great? Can it not fill the soul as much as any other? For an answer to these questions, look at what the Saints, holy men and women, have done. Urged and animated by this all-absorbing love, they have not counted life even as dear to them, but given it up freely and gladly under the most frightful torments. Look at the labors and sufferings of others, for example, of a St. Francis Xavier, enough in his case, one would suppose, to kill twenty ordinary men, all endured with the most heroic cheerfulness and joy. No, depend upon it, the labors and duties of ordinary life will seem trifling in the eyes of the Christian who longs for the love of Jesus Christ. His soul burns for opportunities. What shall I do? he says. 'Why do I stand here idle? Lord, send me something to do.' The cares, duties, and responsibilities of every-day life are the first things to be done; sent by the Lord to be done for his sake. Therefore the soul, instead of finding in them a source of complaint, finds an outlet for that activity which she desires to exercise for God. {286} Suppose one would only say to himself, I want to do something to please God and increase in his love. Now, I have not to search for it; it is here before my face. To take care of my family, endure fatigue and exertion for them, to discharge with fidelity this office or employment committed to me, by which I earn my bread. I will set right to work to do it. It is little indeed that is required of me, but that little, and nothing else, is what God requires of me now. Thanks be to Him who has made my way plain before my face. In this way do things naturally distasteful and irksome become agreeable, when the love of God is spread over them.

This desire for God's love will also moderate all excessive desire for the pleasures of the world. I do not speak now so much of sinful pleasures, as of allowing the heart to go too much after such as are allowed. Such liberty leads to sin by a short road. Our life is too important to be trifled away. God requires of us not to set our hearts on the pleasures or pomp of this world, because then it is sure to forget, what is of so much more importance, Himself. {287} Now, as soon as the soul in earnest perceives that indulgence is producing this effect, that she is losing the relish for the love of God and spiritual things, she is startled, and cannot but feel afflicted. What, she says, shall I barter away so immense a good for such trifles? The very pain this reflection causes weans her away from pleasure. She judges, and judges rightly, that a small enjoyment neglected for so high a motive, will bring a higher and better happiness. We all know this in every-day affairs. Most men prefer to neglect the pleasure of the moment when they see that they gain a greater one for themselves in the future. How provident, how temperate they are in early life to lay up an abundance for old age! What old age can compare with eternity? How strong then the motive of the soul to moderate all her earthly desires, that she may have time and opportunity to look out for that eternity. The ardent lover of God looks at every thing in such a light. Pleasure becomes irksome to him very soon, because he has something so much more important on his mind, that he cannot, and will not rest easy, unless it be attended to. {288} He is no longer a little child, and cannot amuse himself with running after butterflies the whole day. Besides, a greater pleasure has engrossed and filled up his soul, and leaves no room for trifles. It is the happiness of uniting himself to God. There is no drawback to this. After a day spent in trying, with all his heart, to please his God, he feels no regret for it at night, when he lies down on his pillow. He is not left uneasy, restless, and dissatisfied, as when pleasure, ease, and self-indulgence were his aim, but is full of tranquillity, full of hope, and full of the desire that his whole life may be thus spent in the same, or greater efforts, to please God. The pleasures of the world soon grow to be worthless in the eyes of such a man. With St. Paul he says: "_I account all things as dung, so that I may win Christ_." [Footnote 120]

[Footnote 120: Phil. iii. 8.]

It is not hard to part with what we esteem so little. The joy of the heart amply compensates for all sacrifices, so that instead of a long face, a melancholy and soured heart, such a one enjoys deep gladness and satisfaction of mind, which grows deeper and more complete, in proportion as he is weaned away from the pleasures of the world.

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Finally, all those things which are naturally disagreeable, such as misfortunes, pains, sickness, trials of all kinds, become easy and even agreeable through such a strong desire. The Martyrs smiled in the midst of their torments. Did they not feel them? Most certainly they had the same flesh and blood as ourselves. But their souls had a sight of Jesus, surrounded by his Angels, and this distracted their attention from all their torments. So St. Stephen, when he saw this sight, became radiant with joy, and his face shone like the face of an Angel. Sufferings, tribulations and trials are things that force the soul to look steadfastly upon Jesus, and the sight of Him takes from them all their bitterness. So we read that an old hermit of the desert complained when his yearly sickness failed to come upon him, that the Lord had neglected to visit him. The soul that earnestly desires God's love needs only to be told that pain of body or mind, borne patiently, as coming from God's hand, is the surest means of obtaining its desire. Pain is accepted then with alacrity, and with pleasure. {290} To be sure, the first pangs may be exceedingly hard to bear; the soul may require a little time to recollect herself, and gather force to overcome the repugnance of nature. But a little reflection puts every thing in its proper place. Shall I, she says, reject the very things I have longed for, the opportunities of making rapid progress in the love of God? If this does not still the tumult of nature, prayers are resorted to, and in the end comes victory and triumph, a wonderful vigor and refreshment of the soul.

This is not merely for Martyrs and canonized Saints; it is a thing that belongs to every-day life--the grand remedy for all the ills we are subject to: "_Take up my yoke,_" says the Saviour, "_for my yoke is easy and my burden light, and ye shall find rest for your souls_." [Footnote 121]

[Footnote 121: St. Matt, xi., 29.]

It seems strange that the cross of Christ should give rest, but it is so; and the tribulations which come from his hand, as St. James says, work patience, and patience hath a perfect work; therefore it is to be counted joy to receive them, and not sorrow. And such will be the sentiment of the lover of God. {291} So in the Sermon on the Mount, the burden is always: "_Rejoice and be exceeding glad_." For what? Poverty, afflictions, persecutions, false testimony, and so on--they are worthy of joy, because they bring what the soul so much desires.

See then what great things the desire to love God will do for you! May the poor thoughts which I have strung together, excite in your minds this fruitful and wonder-working desire. Regard the love of God as the pearl of great price. Consider over and over again the value of it. Persevere in efforts to appreciate it. Say to yourselves--I will not forget. I will continually repeat: Oh, God, make me to know thee, and to love thee more and more! Oh, how I wish to love my God better than I do! Excite this desire in the morning when you arise--during the day, when you are tempted--when you are discouraged--when you have any thing to suffer--in the midst of pleasure, and whenever the Holy Ghost inspires it. At night, take some time to reflect upon the love of God, to sigh and beg for it. Persevere, and it will not be long before your heart will be inflamed with it--your whole life will be filled with it. Your only uneasiness will be because that burning desire cannot be fully satisfied in this world. {292} This is to hunger and thirst after justice. What a blessed hunger and thirst it is, and what a blessed promise accompanies it! "_Blessed are ye who hunger and thirst after justice, for you shall be filled_." [Footnote 122] Filled with justice! What does that mean? Filled so that we shall not want any more. Not filled with money--which will leave us poor and naked at the last hour. Not filled with sensual pleasures, which please the heart in time and burn it in eternity; but filled with justice, that is, filled with God--filled with a deep inward peace and joy during our mortal life--a foretaste of heaven; and filled with glory and happiness unspeakable in heaven itself forever. Amen.

[Footnote 122: St. Matt. v., 6.]

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Sermon XVIII.

The Worth Of The Soul.