Meditation IV. On Tepidity in the Service of God

WHAT is this tepidity? It generally is a state of hidden mortal sin. It exposes to a certain and most dangerous fall.

1. The just fall into venial sins by surprise, and into small infidelities of frailty; but they soon discover and detest them, and speedily, by penance for them, recover whatever prejudice or diminution their fervour and charity may have suffered. But those are called lukewarm who wilfully fall into venial sins, and habitually contemn them, or at least who are afraid of embracing perfect virtue. They frequent the sacraments; they pray, but all with indifference. They indeed are afraid of mortal sin, and would not knowingly consent to one for the world, and propose by their lives to save their souls, and to avoid the broad way; but then they are afraid also of being bigots, or of going too far in piety, they dare not open their hearts entirely to it, and fear it should get full possession of their souls. Their common language is, that ordinary virtue is enough for them; they are content, if they can be saved with the lowest degree, or even through purgatory, and do not aim at the merits of the saints, or to walk in the sublime paths of perfection, as they call them. Under these pretexts, they are afraid to go beyond obligation, and examine always how far it may be stretched. Thus they bargain, as it were, with God in every duty, how far they are obliged to go under the guilt of mortal sin. Now, this disposition is extremely displeasing to Almighty God. Did he, in redeeming them, and in the innumerable mercies which he so bountifully showers down upon them, follow such a rule, or go no farther than he was obliged? How must he resent such a base and ungrateful return? Gerson illustrates the case by this comparison: If a nobleman amongst many sons had one, who would obstinately sit always idle at home, caring for nothing, provided he could live in a sordid manner, saying "he was content to lead any kind of mean life," and so would never undertake or learn anything suitable to his birth or capacity, though continually admonished and pressed to it by his father, is it not evident that such a disobedient slothful son could expect no favours from his father? Myst. Theol. consid.

t. 3. c. 405. Another common comparison is that of a servant, who, though unwilling to transgress his master's orders in matters of weight, should be ever disputing how far his duty carried him in them, and should make it even his diversion to violate his commands in smaller things on every occasion. Certainly such a behaviour would be more insupportable than that of a servant who should sometimes offend in points of moment. Thus, the lukewarm Christian is often more odious to God than the open sinner. Hear what our Saviour said to the lukewarm bishop of Laodicea, Apoc. iii. 15, 16: "I know thy works, that thou art neither cold nor hot. I would thou wert cold or hot; but because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will begin to vomit thee out of my mouth." Had he been quite cold in the service of God, Christ would not have so much abhorred him. As he was lukewarm, our merciful Lord expresses how hateful that state was to him, by saying his stomach even loathed him, and that he must vomit him up, and cast him off.

2. Lukewarmness in any considerable degree must generally be accompanied with many hidden mortal sins. The soul flatters herself she is in a state of grace, but alas! before God she has already lost that happiness, and yet her misery is hidden from her eyes. First, perhaps, she has been in an habitual disposition of never labouring to avoid any venial sin. This is in itself always a mortal sin, because it implies a grievous contempt of God, and is an immediate occasion of mortal sin. Secondly, the tepid soul is ever studying to enlarge the narrow way as much as may be, and often ventures so far as the boundaries of mortal sin, boundaries which are often uncertain, and in which self-love easily blinds and deceives the negligent Christian. Thus, whilst he allows himself several liberties and freedoms in his actions, in his words, in his thoughts, he often offends mortally by detractions, rash judgments, &c., in what he persuades himself is no more than venial. He also often deceives himself in the interpretation of the law, and, blinded by passion, judges of it in a false light, straining all the precepts of the Church, and even of the law of nature, to his own desires; for example, magnifying every slight indisposition into a pretence for a dispensation from fasting; or taking too large allowances for collation, calling indecent freedoms innocent diversion, and the like, daily indulging in the passions of jealousy, hatred, revenge, sensuality, &c., in which many secret motions cannot but be observed by a watchful eye, and a timorous conscience; whereas in the lukewarm Christian tepidity and negligence have, by weakening the lights of faith, and fortifying the passions, spread such clouds over the soul, that she cannot judge truly of the law, nor of what passes in her own thoughts, but will ever be apt to deceive herself. Above all, such persons are most easily deceived into sins of omission, and into a destruction of the queen of all virtues—charity. Is it not much to be feared, that the love of God above all things reigns no longer in a life all made up of softness, sloth, sensuality, and self-love, especially as no mark, nor character of that divine love appears in it? What appearance that a soul loves God above all things, (which is the essence of this divine virtue,) that shows no disposition but that of a mercenary, the fear of hell, seeking nothing more than to escape eternal punishment? It is a mark of charity to be timorous, to exaggerate dangers and evils, to labour for salvation in fear and trembling. "Sed aggravat, sed exaggerat universa," says St. Bernard. This path has been that of all the just of all ages. How contrary is that of the tepid? They throw themselves on the left side, as far as they dare, compatibly with the fear of hell, and are afraid of the safe or of the right path. Another mark of charity is, that it is always active, always lively. Love is indefatigable; it never ceases. What sign of this divine fire in a heart indolent and slothful to everything, that concerns the service of God? Ah, tepid soul! what reason have we to fear, that the threat of our Redeemer belongs to thee: "Thou hast the name of being alive, and thou art dead," Apoc. ii. 1; or that other: "Thou sayest, I am rich, and made wealthy, and have need of nothing; thou knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked."

3. Tepidity leads souls still farther into the most fatal ruin. This conscience is clear from experience; reason also shows it: for by tepidity the source of graces is drained, and on the other side passions are strengthened. Without the succours of divine grace, it is impossible for a soul to persevere in justice. As the hand of the Creator must always preserve the being it has once given us, or, otherwise, it would every instant fall into its original nothing; so that the spiritual life of the soul must be always maintained by the grace of him who gave it. It is preserved only by this continual dependance on its succours. In the just, the fidelity to grace continually draws down other graces: but the negligence and infidelities of the lukewarm drain up that source; as a just punishment, God withdraws them. Nothing can be more just than this conduct. Tepid souls, enter into judgment with God. You neglect to give him marks of your fidelity; you dispute everything with him, and are you upon your guard, lest you should give him too much. You count with your God, as I may say, and watch to set his love bounds in your heart; and is it not reasonable, that he should prescribe bounds to his bounty to you, and repay your indifference for him by a return of indifference for you, and by refusing the liberal dispensation of his more powerful graces, which you do not prepare yourselves to receive, but make yourselves unworthy of? On the other hand, the passions are strengthened. Tepidity is an habitual indulgence of them; they cannot be conquered but by being openly resisted. Allowing them certain bounds, gratifying them to a certain point, fortifies and stirs them up, as throwing a small handful of food to a devouring lion, does not satisfy his hunger, but rouses him and makes him more furious. They grow too violent to be restrained. At the same time, the path of sin becomes more open and easy; the heart has already made its approaches very near it, even to its very borders, and has but one small step more to take, and a step almost insensible: nay, it often makes it without perceiving it is gone so far. And what makes the fall of a tepid soul quite desperate is, that she herself is ignorant of it; her misery is hidden from her own eyes; like Jerusalem, she knows not the judgments that are hanging over her head. How will she be surprised at the approach of death, when she will too late see her whole past life to be a chaos, which she cannot unravel, and in which she can see nothing clear; but that it was all filled with a love of the world, indolence in prayer and every virtue, duties satisfied by halves, secret antipathies, fondnesses, complaisances, and a thousand defects never discovered, and consequently never bewailed; she will then see, that she has been guilty of an uninterrupted ingratitude against God, and a continued infidelity to his inspirations. She will remember, that the unprofitable servant who hid his talent was condemned, and will tremble to see that all her life, or the greater part of it has been unprofitable; made up of self-love, sensual affections, pleasures, and diversions. She will see the negligence with which she performed spiritual duties, and justly fear, that sacraments so received were sacrileges, and prayer so performed abomination before God. She will see, that her tepid life not only robbed God of her own heart, but that her evil example, and vain conversations, treacherously defrauded him of the affections and service of others.

A tepid soul deprives herself of all the sweets of virtue, especially of that peace of conscience and unction of the Holy Ghost, which make the yoke of Christ light and pleasant to the fervent. She must be a stranger to the peace of conscience, whose whole life appears even to herself to have been spent in a thousand daily transgressions. She has no share in the unction of the Holy Ghost, which spreads a sweetness over the most austere practices of virtue, and fills zealous souls with consolation and joy. Nor has she anything of that relish and pleasure, which true love and fervour find in the exercises of piety. She bears the whole yoke of the law, without any ease or comfort under it, because she would only carry it by halves. Hence St. Bernard thus addresses himself to tepid souls: "All of you know true virtue, and its paths; but the will of all is not the same in them. Some run, or rather fly, in everything: to these, watchings are short, abstinence sweet, and labour desirable. But others walk not so: they are only dragged, nay, are scarcely dragged or compelled by the fear of hell, and march with a dry heart, and with reluctancy. There are many such, who eat the same bread with us, sleep with us, pray with us, work with us, sharers with us in all our tribulations, but not in our comforts; truly miserable and unhappy. These, at length, either sink under the burden, and fall, or live on in a kind of hell on earth, never aspiring at the light of God's mercies, nor to that liberty of spirit, which alone makes the yoke sweet and the burden light."

Tepid souls, by their habitual indolence, are quite indisposed to be moved by divine grace. The Holy Ghost is all fire, all action, all vigour. But tepidity plunges a soul into a state of langour, which enervates her, and takes away all her strength, all her life, and makes her even incapable of any good, or of being inspired with courage and vigour, without which there can be no virtue. Thus she is often more indisposed to receive any advantage from grace than habitual sinners. The exterior means of grace are also unprofitable to her. The sacraments are dangerous in her state, and, tepidly received, at best amuse her langour; but do not heal her. Prayer, the great channel of graces, is little or no resource, in the slothful manner in which she has recourse to it. Exhortations, pious books, alarming calls of God awake her not, because she flatters herself that all goes well with her. Is not, then, her state in a manner desperate? Cassian, that great master of a spiritual life, writes thus of it, Collat. iv. c. 19: "We have often seen souls converted to perfection from a state of coldness, that is, from among worldlings and heathens, but have never seen any from amongst tepid Christians, who are also so detestable to God, that he commands his preachers, by his Prophet, not to exhort them in vain, but abandon them as a fruitless barren ground, and sow the divine word on new hearts among heathens and sinners. 'Plough up the new land, and do not sow on this ground overgrown with thorns.'" Jer. iv. 3. My soul, tremble at thy past lukewarm life; retrieve what thou hast lost, by redoubling thy fervour from this moment.