Art. VII ch. III, The remedy against the hindrances placed by riches

272. THE great means of not falling into the snares which the devil has concealed among the thorns of riches in order to drag us down to hell, and if he succeed not in that, to withdraw us at least from the perfection of Christian life, is a total detachment of our affections from wealth and money; whether we have acquired these already or are in search of them, whether we retain them or renounce their possession. This is that true poverty of spirit, so highly extolled by Jesus Christ, and so greatly recommended by the saints; securing us against all the injuries which our spiritual life might receive from temporal possessions. This, moreover, is the essential perfection of Christian poverty, whereby those who live in the world may, if they will, in the very midst of their riches, vie in perfection with Religious themselves; without which it will avail even religious but little to have outwardly stripped themselves of worldly goods by their voluntary renouncement.

273. St. Ignatius Loyola has explained this poverty of spirit and inner detachment by an apt and most expressive comparison. "He that is poor in spirit," says this Saint, "must behave as a statue amid the temporal goods which he possesses, or which are allowed him for his necessities. A statue is neither joyous nor sad at whatever may happen: it allows its owner to strip it or to clothe it as he sees fit. If you put a tattered robe on a statue, or throw around it a garment of embroidered silk, all overlaid with pearls, the figure is indifferent whether it bears on its shoulders either one or the other vesture. If you place in the hand of a statue a purse full of gold, or another filled with earth, it is as ready to hold the one as the other. In the same manner, then, should each one of us—whether he be the absolute master of money or of landed property (as are people of the world), or whether we have merely the use of these (as is the case with religious)—comport himself with the like indifference and the like detachment. We should live without affection or esteem for such objects; in readiness either to part with or possess them, to forego or to enjoy them, as God wills and as His most wise Providence may dispose." Such as do this are in God's sight truly poor in spirit; and if, being seculars, they abound in wealth, this will in nowise hinder them from reaching the loftiest heights of Christian perfection.

274. All this fits in most admirably with the teachings of the Holy Fathers. St. Gregory the Great, speaking of St. Peter and St. Andrew, asks, what was it that these two great Apostles forsook when they left all to follow our Redeemer, seeing that they possessed scarcely anything that they could leave behind them in the service of so great a Master? He goes on to answer his own objection and says, that in cases such as those just chosen from the Scripture, we must take note, not so much of the amount or quantity given up, as of the inner disposition of the heart. And as these two Apostles kept for their own use not one even of the trifling objects which they had hitherto possessed under their lowly roofs, and as they had put away all desire of possessing the least thing,—living in perfect detachment of the heart from all earthly goods,—we must own that they forsook much, and might truly say, Behold, Lord, we have left all things, and are become poor for Thy sake. The holy Pontiff continues: "We however act not in this wise; for not being poor of spirit we remain attached to what little we have, and even covet that which we have not." St Augustine, in like manner, pursuing the same line of thought says that Peter left much, since he left all that he had or desired to have. And, adds the Saint, was there ever a poor man known whose heart teemed not with hopes and expectations of acquiring the fragile and passing goods of this world? or who, amid his penury, did not wish to improve his position in life? St. Peter, therefore, left much when he cut away from his heart all covetous desires. St. Jerome, writing to Paulinus, says, "That man has given up all to God who has given himself—that is, who has given up all the affections of his heart, by detaching it from all the goods of fortune." And he confirms this teaching by the example of the Apostles, "who gave up merely some few fishing-nets and a crazy old boat; yet was their sacrifice most acceptable to Christ, and rewarded by Him with the highest gifts." Again, the Saint points to the example of the widow, who dropped her mite into the treasury, of which mite our Blessed Lord made as great account as if she had deposited in it all the riches of Crœsus. For Jesus Christ looked not so much to the low value of the boats which the Apostles had left, or to the smallness of the coin given by the widow, as He did to the inward disposition of their hearts. So true is it that the very pith and marrow of Evangelical poverty consists in the unseen detachment of our heart.

275. From this well-grounded doctrine flows a consequence which cannot but be very consoling to such seculars as seriously strive after perfection, and which must also be very alarming for such religious as are less in earnest about the matter than suits their state. The consequence to which I allude is the following. A secular can be more poor in spirit amid his wealth than a religious in his voluntary poverty, if the former be not attached to his possessions, if he be ready to part with them when required by God, or by duty, and if, moreover, he covet nothing of what does not belong to him. The contrary however is the case if a religious desire any of those things which he has renounced for God's sake, or if he be attached to the trifles allowed him for his own use; for—as it has been truly said by St. Gregory, Pope—in these matters God has more regard to the disposition of the heart than to the object to which it may choose to attach itself.

276. The story related by John the Deacon, in his Life of St. Gregory the Great, is well known. As it illustrates the truth of the doctrine with which we are now concerned, it will be useful to recall it once more to memory. A hermit of great virtue had stripped himself for God's sake of all his worldly goods, and had retired into a forest to serve the Almighty in continual prayer, fasting, and other bodily austerities. He had kept nothing for himself except a cat, which he had taken with him as a companion in his solitude, and he was in the habit of caressing it and allowing it to lie in his bosom. One day being in prayer, he besought the Lord to be pleased to show him what reward was in store for one who, renouncing the world and all its wealth, had wholly devoted himself to the divine service. The following night, while he was asleep, God made known to him that such a one might expect in heaven a place as high as that of Gregory, the Bishop of Rome. The hermit was grieved at this answer, and mourning as one who could not be comforted, went about the whole day repeating the following sorrowful complaints: " Poor creature that I am! After having renounced all my worldly means, I am not to expect a greater reward than that reserved to Gregory, who is rolling in riches! What will it avail me to have left home, parents, possessions, revenues, splendour, and luxuries of all kinds, if my recompense is to be only equal to that of one who possesses all these things in greater plenty than was mine?" After having thus spent some days in weeping and lamentation, the Lord God spoke to him again, saying, "It is not for his wealth that a man is rich in My sight, but for his detachment from the lust and affection for riches. Know, then, that your heart is more attached to that cat of yours, which you are all day long stroking and patting, than Gregory is to all his wealth, which in his heart he makes of none account and spends in deeds of charity." At these words the good hermit awoke, and understanding what had hitherto escaped his notice, namely, what was the essence of true poverty of spirit, he began to serve God with greater detachment and in lowlier humility. Seculars, especially such as are married and who cannot lawfully leave their possessions, may be encouraged by this anecdote, since by detachment of heart and the good use of their wealth, they may equal, nay, even may surpass, the poverty of the most austere religious. Let religious then, in their turn, tremble lest, after having de spoiled themselves of their temporal goods, they remain, on account of trivial and petty attachments, more rich in God's sight than if they had never renounced what they once possessed, and had kept all but without such attachment. And if any one of them perceive that he has become a slave of the trifles whereon he has set his heart, let him blush for himself who, having done so much, loses all for the sake of so little.

277. But we must observe carefully, before going any further, that it is no easy matter to discover whether our hearts are set upon the goods of which we are the owners, or of which, as poor men, we are allowed the use; and thus it is difficult to determine whether there exists within us that poverty of spirit which is an earnest of the Heavenly Kingdom. For, the love of worldly possessions is not like personal attachments in the world, which, as a rule, are so warm, fervid and lively, that we cannot hide them from ourselves, and are constantly betraying them to others by outward signs and tokens. The former class of attachments— love of property and love of money—lie hidden deep in the heart, and as they burst not forth into emotions they may be secretly lurking there without our being aware of their presence. In one case only does the attachment discover itself and make itself known; and this is when we fear that we shall be robbed of our possessions, or when we actually have to part with them, whether through violence or of our own free will. If such privation be calmly accepted, with resignation to God's will, it is a sure sign that the heart was free from such attachment. But if, on the contrary, grief and heart-burning be the result, it is clear that an attachment did exist, since the loss or privation is so bitterly felt. To discover whether or not a bandage adheres to a wound, all we have to do is to take it off. If in lifting it up no pain be felt, it is a clear token that the linen was not sticking to the wounded part; if pain be the result, it shows that an adhesion had been formed; and the greater the pain, the more strong the adhesion. The same applies to the subject which we are now treating.

278. I will make what I have just said clearer by the story of Ptolemy, King of Cyprus. Valerius Maximus relates, that this prince had gathered together such heaps of gold, and amassed such vast hoards in his treasury, as to make him a probable subject of apprehension and suspicion on the part of Rome itself. The Romans, taking umbrage at his immense wealth, determined, out of regard for their own security, to make themselves masters of the island, and to subject it and render it tributary to their Republic. This project came to Ptolemy's ears, who, foreseeing that his treasures would be his undoing, had them stowed away in ships which were pierced with holes in order to sink them in the main sea, and thus deprive the Romans of all hope of so rich a prey. Let us pause here to make a brief observation. Who would not have believed that the heart of this king was in no way set upon his great riches, which he was so ready to throw into the water? At any rate, it would seem plain that he preferred his life and freedom to his treasures, because, in order to preserve the former, he was determined to give up the latter. But this would be a false inference; for when he came to the point of having to part with his treasures, he showed how deeply the attachment to riches had sunk in his heart; since, having reached the open sea with the above-mentioned vessels, as soon as he came to the spot where his gold and silver and jewels were to be swallowed up and lost to him for ever, he suddenly felt such a pang in his heart at the idea of this privation, that he had not the courage to give the word of command, and returned with his precious cargo to the shore; showing by this conduct that not only had riches the mastery over him, but that he was their abject slave.

279. And so it is. As we said above, when a bandage is taken off, the wound smarts and by smarting proves how fast it was sticking. Just so, if a spiritual man would find out whether or not there exists in his heart the like attachment to worldly pelf, let him watch himself when God deprives him of a portion or of the whole of his riches, by some sudden disaster which visits the family, or by rivals hindering his gains, or doing some other injury to his interests, and let him examine whether, in such cases, he resigns himself to God's will in the total or partial loss of his wealth, without losing peace of heart. If so, he may rest assured that he is not enslaved to his goods and money, but is free from all attachment and in possession of true poverty of spirit. But if on these occasions, he feels much grief, great affliction, and can find no means of restoring peace to his heart, he may rest convinced that he is attached to his wealth, and bound thereto by the chain of a most imperfect and most dangerous affection. Of this there can be no doubt, for it is impossible that the human heart should feel the pain of separation from an object to which it is not attached.