Charity of M. Vianney

To give an idea of M. Vianney’s love of our Lord, we should have to depict all the ardour, energy, sweetness, strength, and generosity that can be concentrated in a human soul with the aid of grace. All the faculties of his mind, all the powers of his reason, all the resources of his will, were at the service of this dominant feeling. The union of which St. John Chrysostom speaks was already begun in him; Jesus Christ alone was in all his thoughts, his affections, and his desires. Without the Saviour, the society of the blessed could not have pleased him. Jesus Christ was his life, his heaven, his present, his future; and the adorable Eucharist alone could allay the thirst that consumed him. He could not cease to think of Jesus Christ, to aspire to Him, to speak of Him. Then it was not words, but flames that issued from his heart and his mouth. He pronounced the adorable name of Jesus, and said, “Our Lord,” with an emphasis which could not fail to strike every one; his heart seemed to be on his lips.

What his reading had most strongly impressed on his memory, and what recurred most often in his discourses, were the burning words by which the love of the saints for the Divine Master is the most vividly expressed; he liked to quote those words of our Lord to St. Teresa: “I am waiting for the Day of Judgment to make known to men how much thou hast loved Me.” And again: “When men will not have Me, I will come and hide Myself in thy heart.” He never quoted them without being interrupted by his tears.

He repeated also those words of St. Catherine of Siena, who cried out in her ardour, “O my dearest Lord! if I had been the stones and the earth where Thy Cross was planted, what grace and consolation I should have felt in receiving the Blood which flowed from Thy Wounds!” He related, with much emotion, that St. Colette said to our Lord, “My sweet Master, I desire indeed to love Thee, but my heart is too little.” She then saw descend a great heart all in flames, and at the same time heard a voice saying to her, “Love Me now as much as thou wouldst.” And her heart was inundated with love.

“O Jesus!” he often cried out, with his eyes full of tears, “to know Thee is to love Thee! … If we knew how much our Lord loves us, we should die of joy! I do not believe there are any hearts so hard as not to love, when they see themselves so much loved. … Charity is so beautiful! it is an emanation from the heart of Jesus, who is all love. … The only happiness we have on earth, is to love God, and to know that God loves us.” …

He also said, mournfully:

“I sometimes think that few good works will be rewarded, because, instead of doing them for the love of God, we do them from habit, by routine, from self-love. … What a pity it is!”

“All in God’s sight, all with God, all to please God. … Oh, how beautiful it is! Come, my soul, thou shalt converse with the good God, labour with Him, walk with Him, fight and suffer with Him. Thou wilt labour, but He will bless thy work; thou wilt walk, but He will bless thy footsteps; thou wilt suffer, but He will bless thy tears. How great, how noble, how consoling it is, to do every thing under the eyes and in the company of the good God! To think that He sees all, that He takes account of all. Let us say every morning, ‘All to please Thee, O my God! all my actions with Thee!’ … How sweet and consoling is the thought of the presence of God! … One is never weary; the hours slip away like minutes. … In short, it is a foretaste of heaven.”

“Poor sinners! when I think that there are some who will die without having even tasted for one hour the happiness of loving God! … When we are tired of our exercises of piety, and conversation with God wearies us, let us go to the gates of hell, and look at those poor lost souls, who can no longer love the good God. If we could lose our souls without making our Lord suffer! but we cannot.”

“A Christian who had faith would die of love. … A good Christian who loves God and his neighbour,—and when we love God, we love our neighbour,—see how happy he is! What peace is in his soul! It is paradise on earth.”

“I often think that the tongue of those poor dead, who are in the cemetery yonder, can no longer pray, … that their heart can no longer love.” …

He often ended his discourse with these words: “To be loved by God, to be united to God; to live in the presence of God, to live for God; oh, beautiful life, … and beautiful death!”

One day, when he heard the birds in his courtyard, he said, sighing, “Poor little birds! you were created to sing, and you sing. … Man was created to love God, and he does not love Him!”

“The reason why we do not love God,” he said again, “is that we have not come to the point when whatever costs us something gives us pleasure. If we had to lose our souls, it would be a consolation to be able to say, ‘At least I loved the good God upon earth.’ … There are some who weep because they do not love God; but those people love Him. Oh, how consoling it is to think that on this poor earth it is for the good God that there is most fidelity and most love!”

The Curé of Ars especially recommended three devotions: devotion to the Passion of our Lord and to the Holy Eucharist; devotion to the Blessed Virgin; and devotion to the souls in purgatory. He affirmed, after St. Bernard, that it was a mark of reprobation not to have a devotion to the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. “The Passion of our Lord,” he said, “is like a great river flowing down from a mountain, which is never exhausted.”

It would be impossible to give an idea of his devotion to the Blessed Sacrament. He called It by the most sweet and tender names; he invented new expressions to speak of It worthily; it was his favourite subject, and he was always recurring to It in his conversations. Then his heart melted with gratitude, happiness, and love; his eyes sparkled, his saintly soul shone forth in his countenance, and his voice was choked with tears: “What is our Lord doing in the Sacrament of His love? He assumed His good Heart that He might love us, and out of that Heart there issues a flood of mercy and tenderness to drown the sins of the world.”

He called Holy Communion “a bath of love.” “When we have communicated,” he said, “the soul revels in the balm of love like bees among flowers.”

He liked to relate the anecdote of St. John of the Cross and St. Teresa. When she received Holy Communion from her spiritual father, “the love of our Lord, passing from one to the other, melted their hearts, so that St. John of Avila fell down on one side, and St. Teresa on the other, overwhelmed by the sweetness of love.”

On the Feast of the Sacred Heart, he said: “To-day our Lord places us on His Heart. … Ah! if we could remain there always!” … Then, clasping his hands and raising his eyes, full of tears, to heaven, he cried, “O Heart of Jesus! Heart of love! flower of love! … The heart was all that remained whole in the most holy body of our Lord, after Longinus had pierced it to draw forth love. If we do not love the Heart of Jesus, what then shall we love? There is nothing in that Heart but love! How is it possible not to love what is so amiable?”