p. 121Thoughts of M. Vianney on Self-Denial and Suffering

M. Vianney, like all the saints, was convinced that detachment is the one only treasure of the heart; that to sacrifice is not to destroy, but to give life and liberty to the soul, by freeing it from the chains of finite things. Therefore, he always insisted much on death to self, and renouncement of our will.

“Our will,” he said, “is the only thing that we have of our own, and can make an offering of to the good God. Therefore, we are assured that a single act of renouncement of the will is more pleasing to Him than a fast of thirty days.”

“Every time we can renounce our own will to do that of others, provided it is not against the law of God, we acquire great merits, which are known to God alone. What is it that makes the religious life so meritorious? It is the renouncement of the will at every moment; the continual death to all that has most life in us. Do you know, I have often thought that the life of a poor servant-girl, who has no will but that of her master, if she knows how to profit by this renouncement, may be as pleasing to God as that of a religious, always following her rule.”

“Even in the world, we may every moment find the opportunity of renouncing our will; we may deprive ourselves of a visit that gives us pleasure; we may do a troublesome work of charity; we may go to bed two minutes later, get up two minutes earlier; when two things are to be done, we may choose that one which is the least pleasant.”

“I have known some beautiful souls in the world, who had no will of their own, and were quite dead to themselves. That is what the saints do. Look at that good little St. Maurus, who had such power with God, and was so dear to his Superior on account of his simplicity and obedience. The other religious were jealous of him, and the Superior said to them, ‘I will show you why I esteem that dear little brother so highly.’ He made the tour of the cells; they all had something to finish before they opened their doors; St. Maurus alone, who was copying the Holy Scriptures, instantly left his work to answer the call of St. Benedict.”

“It is only the first step that is difficult in this way of abnegation. When once it is entered upon, we go straight forward; and when we have acquired this virtue, we have every thing.”

Speaking of the Cross, he said that it was the most learned book that could be read; that those who did not know this book were ignorant, even if they were acquainted with every other; that they alone were wise who loved it, consulted it, fathomed it; that, bitter as it was, nothing was so pleasing as to plunge into the depths of its bitterness; that it was a school where was to be found all knowledge without weariness, and every sweetness without satiety.

“A house founded on the Cross,” he said, “will fear neither wind, nor rain, nor storm. Trials show clearly how pleasing a work is to God.”

At a time when he was overwhelmed with contradictions, he was on the point of addressing a letter to his Bishop, which would have effectually relieved him from a part of his troubles. The letter was written, but when it was given him to sign, he tore it up, saying, “This is Friday, the day our Lord bore His Cross; I must bear mine. To-day the chalice of humiliation is less bitter.”