157. Mortification

"I fill up those things that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ, in my flesh." (Col. 1: 24.)

Shall the God-loving soul stop at mere sufferings?

O no! Love is restless, love is generous.

Love not only bears with cheerful resignation the unavoidable sufferings wherewith God visits it,—but it goes forth to search for crosses, for all that is repugnant to nature, annoying to sensuality, hurtful to self-love, and death to the old man within us.

How ingenious and inventive were the Saints in the practice of mortification!

They granted themselves rest neither by day nor by night; they treated themselves as their own worst enemies. Mortification of the whole sinful man, restraint of the senses, renunciation, self-denial,—to these things were directed all their thoughts and endeavors.

To avoid merely what was forbidden, was by far too little for their zeal. Only then did they believe themselves to be somewhat secure, when they had learned to renounce even lawful things.

They imposed privations upon themselves; they tortured their bodies with instruments of penance,--with fasting, nakedness, and weary vigils; they labored not only to repress the exuberance of their evil passions, but to eradicate their very roots, and smother them in the germ. They were always at war with themselves; not confining themselves to mere self-defence, they began the attack, and pursued the enemies of God and of their salvation with irresistible impetuosity.

All this is not done without suffering and sorrow. Human nature feels every sting of such austerity and severity. It groans acutely under the stripes which strike at the roots of the most hidden passions. But the Saints looked only to God,—they had only their spiritual advantage in view. Incessantly the image of their suffering Redeemer hovered before their souls, causing them to break out into the words: Only by sufferings, shall we be true members of our suffering head Jesus Christ! I fill up those things, says St. Paul, that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ, in my flesh. (Col. 1: 24.)

I, also, am a member of Christ; if I desire to have part with Christ, I must suffer with him, contribute my share in sufferings, and thus, form the suffering Christ in myself. I owe it to Christ, I owe it to the Church, which is his body, that I suffer; but I owe it also to myself,— for the joys of heaven are proportionate to the measure of our sufferings on earth.

Terror seizes you, young man, at the mere mention of mortification, self-denial, self-crucifixion! Perhaps, heretofore, even the very words were unknown to you.

But, are you not also a disciple of Christ Crucified?

Are you not a brother of those heroes who crucified their flesh with all its concupiscences? (Gal. 5: 24.)

Son of holy ancestors, scion of noble sires, deny not your extraction,— be not ashamed of the cross of your Master.

Youth does not exempt you; on the contrary, it is one of the strongest motives to practise what should be the virtue of all Christians.

Who is threatened with greater dangers than the young man? For whom does Satan spread more terrible snares? Whom does the world encircle more deceitfully? Whose passions ferment more vehemently? In whose bosom does nature rage more powerfully? In whose veins does the blood flow hotter? Whose flesh seeks more madly and presumptuously to free itself from the control of reason? Who is more eager than the young man, for enjoyments, for all sorts of amusements, lawful or unlawful? Who throws himself more wildly into the vortex of a dissipated life, tossing daringly from one billow of excitement to the other,— unconcerned as to whether they will land him on the shores of heaven or hell? Shall mortification to such a one be superfluous—useless—unnecessary?

Ah! how many young men are there who live only for their own passions, for their senses, their gross self-indulgence! They know nothing of that holy violence which alone can open the golden portals of heaven. They are anything but cross-bearers; they evade every thorn they chance to meet on the way. Only flowery paths are acceptable to them; the ground beneath their feet, must be always smooth and pleasant.

No wonder that there are so few holy young men! No wonder that there are so many bad, vicious young men! He that nourishes his servant delicately from his childhood, afterwards shall find him stubborn (Prov. 29: 21); and: A horse not broken, becometh stubborn, and a child left to himself, will become headstrong. Give thy son his way, and he shall make thee afraid: play with him, and he shall make thee sorrowful. (Ecclus. 30: 8, 9.)

You certainly do not fear for your health, for your life?

Behold, a great many Saints have lived to a ripe old age; sobriety and austerity of life secured to them more years, than did abundance and a luxurious life to others.

O, little suffices for the body; it can endure more than we imagine. Meanwhile, your own prudence, as well as that of your spiritual director, will surely indicate to you the right limits.

At any rate, there is no question here of extraordinary penances. Faithful love and constant perseverance give even to lesser renunciations value before God.

The mortification of the inner man,—of self-love, impatience, levity, irritability, curiosity, extravagance at all events, is entirely free from danger; it is beneficial to the body as well as to the soul.

The practice of mortification, without which we can never arrive at Christian perfection, presupposes a certain recollection of spirit. Without such, many daily and hourly opportunities may glide away unemployed. Now, it is the eyes—then, the ears; now, the sense of smell—then, the palate, the love of ease, of comfort, of convenience; now, a too great impetuosity; again, garrulity, inordinate sadness, excess or extravagance, peevishness, caprice, inconstancy, on which we can impose sacrifices, to which we can offer renunciation.

How many opportunities daily!

Comprehend it at once and for all: Your spiritual progress depends entirely on this, that you mortify yourself, that you do violence to yourself.

Overcome yourself!—let these words continually sound in your ears. No victory more glorious than that which man gains over himself; no battles, at the same time, hotter, than those which are fought in the field of his hidden heart.

The Passion of Christ will strengthen me. If, as a youth, I succeed in mastering myself, in demanding sacrifices of myself at pleasure, how easy will it be to me as a mature man, to walk the way of duty, of renunciation, of self-sacrifice!

How grandly those frequent, though small, acts of self-conquest strengthen the will! Effeminacy and deplorable self-indulgence, on the contrary, can lead only to a total relaxation, a boundless impotence, which delivers itself without resistance to the caprices of the flesh and to the snares of the world and the devil.