Salesian Literature

Conference 11  :  The Virtue of Obedience [1]

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there are three sorts of pious obedience. The first is that which is common to all Christians – the obedience due to God and to Holy Church in the observance of their commandments. The second is religious obedience, which is of a far higher value than the other, because it not, only concerns itself with the Commandments of God, but also with the observance of His Counsels. There is a third kind of obedience, which is of what I wish to speak, as being the most perfect. This is called a loving obedience, and it is of this that Our Lord gave us an example throughout the whole course of His life on earth.

 

The Fathers ascribe to this kind of obedience many properties and qualities, but from among them all I shall only select three.  The first is that, as they say, it is blind; the second, that it is prompt; and the third, that it is persevering.  Blind obedience has also three properties or qualities.  In the first place, it never regards the countenance of Superiors, but only their authority. Secondly, it never desires to inquire into the reasons or motives of a Superior, in ordering this or that to be done; being quite content to know that he has given the commands.  And thirdly, it never inquires how it may carry out what is ordered, feeling certain that God, Who inspired the command, will assuredly afford the power necessary to fulfil it.  Therefore, instead of asking how a thing is to be done, blind obedience sets to work to do it.

 

Religious obedience, then, which ought to be blind, lovingly undertakes to do all that is commanded it with simplicity, and without ever considering whether the command is good or bad, provided that the person who orders has authority to order, and that the command serves to unite our mind to God.  For without that the truly obedient soul never does anything.  Many have been greatly mistaken as to this condition of obedience, believing that it consisted in doing at random whatever should be commanded, even were it contrary to the Commandments of God and Holy Church.  In this they have been greatly mistaken, imagining a folly to lurk in this quality of blindness which is not there at all.  In all that relates to the Commandments of God, just as Superiors have no power whatever to give any contrary command, so in such a case inferiors have no obligation to obey – indeed, if they did so they would sin.

 

Now, I am well aware that many have done things contrary to the Commandments of God, impelled by this obedience, which is not content with obeying the command of God and Superiors, but must go farther, and obey even their counsels and inclinations. Many have rushed to death, moved to do so by a special inspiration of God, so strong that it could not be resisted; otherwise they would have sinned grievously. It is related in the Book of Maccabees that one named Kazias, urged on by an ardent zeal for the glory of God, went and exposed himself to blows by which he knew that he must be wounded and killed. Feeling himself wounded in the chest, he drew all his entrails out, through the wound, and threw them into the air in the presence of his enemies. St. Apollonia threw herself into the fire prepared by the impious enemies of God and of the Christians, to burn her to death. St. Ambrose[2] also tells us of three maidens who, to save their honour, threw themselves into a river and were drowned. They, however, had also other reasons for doing this, which it would take too much time to detail here. There have been many others who have thus rushed to death, as did he who threw himself into a flaming furnace. But all these examples ought to be admired, not imitated, for you know well enough that we must never be so blind as to think that we can please God by infringing His Commandments. Loving obedience presupposes obedience to the Commandments of God.

 

This obedience is called blind because it obeys all Superiors equally. The ancient Fathers have universally agreed in blaming those who will not submit themselves to obey any who are their inferiors in rank and position. The Fathers question them as follows: When you obeyed your Superiors, why did you do so?  Was it for the love of God? Certainly not. It could not be for that motive, for is not the present Superior in God's place in our regard exactly as the other was? Doubtless, for he is God's vicar, and God commands us by his lips, and makes us understand His will by the orders which he gives us, just as He did by the lips of the other Superior. Then you obey your Superiors because you feel drawn towards them and have respect for their persons.    Alas! you do no more than people in the world. They do exactly the same and not only do they obey the commands of those they love, but they would not consider they had sufficient love if they did not carry out as closely as possible the wishes and inclinations of the person they loved.    Just so the truly obedient Religious acts in regard to his Superiors as to God Himself. The pagans, corrupt as they were, have given us an example of this, for the devil spoke to them through various sorts of idols.  Some were statues of men, others figures of rats, dogs, lions, serpents, and the like; and these poor creatures put their trust equally in all, obeying the image of a dog as they obeyed that of a man, that of a rat as that of a lion, without any difference. Why was that? Because they saw their gods in all these various images. St. Peter[3] commands us to obey our Superiors, even if they should be forward [1 Pet. 2:18][4]. Our Lord, Our Lady, and St. Joseph give us a most excellent lesson of this kind of obedience, in the journey they took from Nazareth to Bethlehem [Lk. 2:1, 5]. For Caesar having decreed that all his subjects should go to their birthplace to be enrolled, they cheerfully went there to fulfil this obedience, although Caesar was a pagan and an idolater; Our Lord wishing to show by this that we ought never to regard the person of those who command, provided that they have authority to do so.

 

Let us pass on now to the second property of blind obedience. After it has reached the point of disregarding the person of those who command, and submitting indifferently to any sort of Superior, it goes beyond that, and arrives at the second point. This is to obey without considering the intention or the end for which the order is given, content to know that it is given, without wasting time in discussing whether the order is good or bad, or whether we are right or not in doing what we are commanded to do.  Abraham is greatly to be admired for the way in which he practised this obedience. God calls him, saying to him: Abraham, go forth out of thy country and from thy kindred, and come into the land which I shall show thee [Gen. 12:1].  Abraham goes at once, without a word.  Ah! might he not have said: "Lord, Thou commandest me to quit the city; tell me, then, I pray Thee, from which quarter I shall go forth?” He said not a word, but went whither the Spirit led him, without considering at all whether he was going in the right or the wrong direction; without seeking to know why and wherefore God had given him this command in words so brief that He had not even indicated to him what road he was to take. Ah! Truly obedient persons do not ask such questions; they simply apply themselves to their work, with no desire but to obey. It seems as if Our Lord Himself wished to show, when He appeared to St. Paul to convert him, how pleasing this sort of obedience is.  Having called him by his name, he struck him to the ground, blinded.  Observe that in order to make him His disciple, He caused him to fall, that He might humble him and bring him into subjection to Himself; then suddenly He blinded him, and com­manded him to go into the city to find Ananias and do all that he should command him to do [Acts 9:7]. But why did not Our Lord Himself tell him what ho was to do, without sending him on farther, seeing that He had condescended to speak to him Himself to   convert him? St. Paul did all that he was commanded to do. It would have cost Our Lord nothing to say with His own lips what Ananias was made to say, but He wished us to know from this example how much He loves blind obedience, since it appears that he only blinded St, Paul in order to make him truly obedient.

 

When Our Lord willed to give sight to the man who was born blind, He made clay and put it on his eyes, commanding him to go and wash in the foun­tain of Siloe [Jn. 9:6-7]. This poor blind man might well have been amazed at the means used by Our Lord to cure him, and might have said: "Alas! what dost Thou do to me? If I were not already blind, this would be enough to destroy my sight." But he made no such reflections; he simply obeyed. In this way the truly obedient believe that they can do all that they may be commanded to do, because they hold that all commandments come from God, or are given by His inspiration, and cannot be im­possible, by reason of the authority of Him who commands.

 

Naaman the Syrian did not behave in this manner, because he thought that such obedience would only bring him harm. Being a leper, he went in search of Eliseus that he might be cured by him, because all the remedies he had hitherto tried had failed to restore his health. Knowing, therefore, that Eliseus had worked great wonders, he journeyed to his house, and sent in a messenger begging the Prophet to heal him. Eliseus, however, did not stir from his chamber, but sent the servant to tell him that if he would go and wash seven times in the Jordan he would be healed.  Naaman, on hearing this answer, was very angry, and said: "Are not the waters of our own rivers as good as those of the Jordan?" and he would not hear of obeying the command.  His servants, however, remonstrated with him, telling him that he ought to do what the Prophet enjoined, seeing that it was so easy. At last, yielding to their persuasions, he did wash seven times in the Jordan, and was cured. Do you see to what danger he exposed himself of never recovering his health, by making so many difficulties about what he was told to do?

 

The third property of blind obedience is that it neither considers nor inquires by what means it can do what is commanded.  It knows that the path it must pursue is the Rule of the Order, and the commands of Superiors; and it takes this path in simplicity of heart, without cavilling or questioning whether it would be better to do this or that.  Provided that the Religious obeys, all else is indifferent, for he knows that that is sufficient to make him pleasing to God, for whose love he obeys unconditionally.

 

The second quality of loving obedience is that it is prompt. Now, promptitude in obedience has always been recommended to Religious, as a neces­sary part of true obedience and of perfect observance of vows made to God. It was the note fixed upon by Abraham's servant [Gen. 24:14-20] for knowing the maiden destined by God to be the bride of his master's son. He said to himself: "The maiden of whom I shall ask a draught of water, and who shall reply, 'I will not only give to you to drink, but I will also draw water for your camels,' will be the one who is worthy to be the bride of my master's son." And while these thoughts were passing through his mind he saw afar off the beautiful Rebecca[5]. The servant, seeing her so gracious and lovely as she stood by the well drawing water for her flock, put his question, and the maiden answered as he had expected. "Yes," she said, "and not only for you but also for your camels." Pray observe how prompt and gracious she was; she spared herself no trouble, but was most lavish of it, for no small amount of water must have been needed to give drink to so many camels as the envoy had with him. Certainly, obedience ungraciously rendered is not, at all pleasing. There are some who obey, indeed, but so grudgingly and with so ill a grace that the merit of the virtue is greatly diminished. Charity and obedience are so closely united that they cannot possibly be separated. Love makes us obey promptly[6], for, however difficult the thing com­manded may be, those who possess loving obedience undertake it lovingly. Obedience being a principal part of humility, which loves submission above all things, it follows that those who obey love the command given, and so as soon as they are aware of it, whether it be to their taste or not, they embrace it, caress it, and cherish it tenderly.

 

I must tell you of an example of this prompt obedience to be met with in the Life of St. Pachomius.[7]  Among the monks of St. Pachomius there was one named Jonas, a man of great virtue and holiness, who had the care of the garden, in which was a fig-tree bearing very fine figs.  Now, this fig tree was a source of temptation to the young monks; every time they passed it, they stopped and looked for a while at the figs. St. Pachomius, having noticed this one day whilst in the garden, raised his eyes to the fig-tree, and saw the devil at the top of it, looking down on the figs, as the monks were looking up to them. This great Saint, who was no less anxious to train his monks in entire mortification of the senses, than in interior morti­fication of the passions and inclinations, called Jonas and commanded him to cut down the fig-tree without fail the following day. To this command Jonas replied: "Ah! Father, we must surely put up with these young men a little; they need some sort of recreation. It is not for myself that I want to save the tree!"  To which the Father replied: "Well, my brother, you are not willing to obey promptly and with simplicity, but what will you say if the tree prove more obedient than you?" And so it turned out; the next day the tree was found withered up, and it never bore fruit again. Certainly poor Jonas spoke the truth when he said that it was not for his own sake that he wished to save the fig tree, for it had been a matter of remark that, all the seventy-five years during which he had been both monk and gardener, he had never tasted any of the fruit in his garden, though he was very liberal of it as regarded the brethren. He learned now, however, how excellent promptitude is in obedience. Our Lord throughout His whole life on earth afforded constant examples of this promptitude in obedience. None could ever be so yielding and so prompt in giving way to the will of others as He was. Following His example, we too must learn to be most prompt to obey, for a loving heart is not content with doing what is ordered, or what seems to be desired, but must do it promptly. It cannot too quickly accomplish what is commanded, that it may be free to receive some fresh order. David only expressed a simple wish to drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem, and instantly three horsemen galloped off and penetrated through the ranks of the enemy in search of the water. They were exceedingly prompt in executing the desire of the king. Many great saints have proved themselves equally prompt in trying to carry out what seemed to them the wishes and desires of the King of Kings, Our Lord Himself, What command, I pray you, did Our Lord ever give which obliged St. Catherine of Siena to suck the poisonous matter from the wound of the poor sick woman whom she was tending? or St. Louis, King of France, to partake of the soup left by the lepers to encourage them to eat ? Certainly these saints were not obliged to do what they did; but knowing that Our Lord loved, and gave proofs of His love for self-humiliation, they, thinking to please Him, did these things with the greatest love, although they were most repugnant to their feelings. We are bound to succour our neighbour when he is in extreme necessity; nevertheless, because almsgiving is a Counsel of Our Lord, many willingly give alms as far as their means will permit. Now, upon this obedience to Counsels is grafted loving obedience, which makes us undertake to follow out most minutely and exactly all the desires and intentions of God and of our Superiors.

 

But here I must warn you of a mistake into which you may fall; for if those who wish to practise this virtue exactly, were always keeping their minds on the strain to find out the desires and inclinations of their Superiors or of God, they would infallibly lose their time.  For example, while I am seeking to find out what is God's desire, I am not employed in keeping myself close to Him in peace and in calm repose, which it certainly His present desire, since He has set me nothing else to do. So, those who, wishing to please Our Lord by relieving the poor, would go from city to city in search of them, whilst they are in one city, will certainly neglect the wants of those who are in another.  In this matter, in simplicity of heart, we must set to work to give alms when we meet with the occasion, without wasting our time by wandering through the streets from house to house, trying to find out, if there is any unknown poor person. In the same way, when I see that the Superior wants me to do something or other, I must be ready to do it at once, without making any minute investigations as to whether he is likely to prefer my doing something else. That would destroy peace and tranquillity of heart, which is the chief fruit of loving obedience.

 

The third quality of obedience is perseverance. Now, this especially Our Lord has taught us. St. Paul affirms this in the words: Becoming obedient unto death [Phil. 2:8]; and to raise this obedience even higher, he adds—even to the death of the cross. In those words even to death, is included the fact that He had been obedient throughout the whole course of His life.[8] During this there are seen nothing but instances of obedience, paid by Him to His parents or to others; yes, even to the wicked and profane. And as He began by practising this virtue, so He finished the course of this mortal life by one supreme act of perfect obedience.

 

The good monk Jonas provides us with two lessons on the subject of perseverance, for although he did not obey the command which St. Pachomius gave him promptly, yet he was a monk of great perfection. From the time of his entering Religion until his death, he continued his work as gardener without any interruption—that is, during the whole seventy-five years of his life in the monastery. The other exercise in which he persevered all his life, as I have before told you, was making mats of rushes interwoven with palm-leaves, and he was busy with this work at the very moment of his death. It is a very great virtue to persevere for so long a time in one employment, for to do a thing cheerfully, which we are only commanded to do once, costs nothing; but when our Superior says to us:  "You will do that always, and all through your life," there lies the virtue and there also the difficulty. This, then, is what I had to say concerning obedience; but I may also add that it is of such great price that it is the companion of charity.  These two virtues give value to all others, so that without them all others are abso­lutely worthless. If you have not these two virtues, you have none; if you have them, you have all the rest in sufficient abundance.

 

But passing on and leaving on one side the general obedience to the Commandments of God, and speaking of religious obedience, I say that if Religious do not obey they cannot have any virtue at all, because it is obedience especially which makes them Religious, that being the proper and peculiar virtue of Religion. Even if you are ready and eager to suffer martyrdom, that is nothing if you have not obedience. We read in the Life of St. Pachomius that one of his monks, having persevered all through his novitiate in the most exemplary humility and submission[9], came one day to St. Pachomius and told him in a transport of fervour that he had a longing desire for martyrdom. He said that he could never rest satisfied till the opportunity for embracing it came to him, and he humbly entreated the Saint to pray to God for him that his desire might be fulfilled. The holy Father strove to moderate this transport, but the more he said, the more hotly did the young monk urge his petition. The Saint addressed him therefore, in these words: "My son, it is far better to live in obedience, and to die daily to self by mortifying our own desires, than to suffer martyr­dom in imagination. He who mortifies himself, dies a martyr's death as far as need be; it is a far greater martyrdom to persevere in obedience all through our life, than to die in a moment by a stroke of the sword. Live in peace, my son, calm your mind, and do not dwell on this desire." The monk, who felt assured that this desire was in­spired by the Holy Ghost, abated nothing of his first ardour, but continued to urge the Father to pray for the fulfilment of his desire. In a short time news arrived which cheered him greatly. A certain Saracen, captain of a band of robbers, had come to a mountain adjoining the monastery. St. Pachomius, hearing of this, called the monk to him, saying: "Off with you, my son! The hour which you so desired is come. Go out at once to the mountain and cut wood." The monk, almost beside himself with joy, and little imagining what he was really going to do, went forth, singing the praises of God, and thanking Him for having deigned to give him this opportunity of dying for His love. The robbers, seeing him, made straight for him, laid hands on him, and threatened him. For a short time he was most valiant. "You are a dead man!" they cried. "I desire nothing better than to die for God," was his reply, with other words to that effect. The Saracens then dragged him to the place where their idol was, to make him adore it. When they found that he persisted in refusing to do this, they prepared to kill him. Alas! this poor monk, so valiant in imagination, when he saw the sword at his throat cried out: "I entreat you, do not kill me. I will do all that you desire. Take pity on me! I am still young; it would be a grievous thing to cut short my life so early." Finally, he adored their idol; and then these bad men, heaping scorn and derision upon him beat him soundly and let him return to his monastery. Arriving there more dead than alive, pale and overwhelmed with grief and shame, he was met by St. Pachomius, who said to him: "Well, my son, what is the matter? Why are you so dejected?" Then the poor monk, full of confusion and distress, because he was a proud man, and unable to bear the thought of his terrible sin, threw himself on his knees confessing his fault. The Father, desiring the brothers to pray for him, and making him ask pardon of God, restored him to his former state, and then gave him this good advice: " My son, remember that it is better to limit your desires to living according to the laws of the Community, and to wish for nothing but fidelity in the observance of the Rules, than to undertake, or be anxious to undertake, anything not included in them, and to foster great desires to do imaginary marvels; these only serve to inflate our hearts with pride, and to make us hold others in little esteem, fancying ourselves far superior to them. Ah, how much better it is for us to live under the shelter of holy obedience, than to withdraw ourselves from that safe shelter, seeking something which seems to us more perfect! If you had only been satisfied, as I told you, with mortifying yourself thoroughly in life, instead of wishing for nothing less than death, you would not have fallen as you have done. But courage! Remember henceforward that you must, live in submission; and be assured that God has forgiven you." The young monk obeyed the coun­sel of the Saint, and behaved himself with great humility all through his life.

 

I even go so far as to say that obedience is not of less merit than charity. For to give a cup of water from charity merits heaven, Our Lord Himself says so [Mk. 9:40]; do as much from obedience, you will gain the same reward. The least little thing done from obedience is very pleasing to God. Eat from obedience, and your eating is more pleasing to God than the fasts of anchorites, supposing that they fast without obedience; rest from obedience, and your repose is more meritorious and more pleasing to God than voluntary labour.[10] "But," you say, "what shall I gain by practising so exactly this loving obedience, with all its above-mentioned qualities of blindness, promptitude, and perseverance?" Oh, my dear daughters, they who practise this obedience will enjoy a continual tranquillity of soul, and that most holy peace of Our Lord which surpasseth all understanding; they will have no need to give an account of their actions, since all will have been done from obedience, both to the Rules And to Superiors. What greater happiness can we desire? Certainly, I may observe in passing, the truly obedient love their Rules, they honour and esteem them as the only path by which they can arrive at the union of the mind with God. From that path they never turn aside, nor from the Observance of those things which are laid down in the form of direction, any more than from those which are commanded. The truly obedient soul will live like a child in the arms of a beloved mother, undisturbed whatever may happen to it; Content to be carried on the right arm or on the left. The truly obedient soul cares not what command is given to her; so long as it is a command, and so long as she rests in the arms of obedience — I mean in the practice of obedience — it is enough, and she is satisfied. To such a soul, on the part of God, I can promise paradise for all eternity; as also during the course of this mortal life, true and certain peace — of this we must not doubt. You ask now if you are bound, under penalty of sin, to do all that Superiors tell you to do — as, for instance, when you give an account of yourself, whether you should take as a command all that the Superior suggests for your improve­ment[11]. Oh no, my daughter, neither Superiors nor confessors intend to bind their inferiors by the commands which they give. If they intend to do this, they use the word of command "under pain of disobedience," and then inferiors are bound under pain of sin to obey, however light the command may be, and however small the matter, but not otherwise. For they give advice in three ways — in the form of a command, of a counsel, and of simple direction. In the Constitutions and Rules it is just the same. There are articles which say, the sisters may do such a thing; and others which say, they shall do; or, again, they will beware of doing. Some of these are counsels, some are commands. Those who are unwilling to submit to counsels and to direction offend against loving obedience[12], and it would be a proof of cowardice of heart, and want of love for God, to be willing to do only just what is commanded and nothing more. And although they who do not submit themselves to direction do not sin against the obedience to which their vows bind them (which only relates to commands and counsels), still they offend against that loving obedi­ence to which all the daughters of the Visitation ought to aspire.

 

You ask me if, when a new Superior is given to you, you may not think that she is not so cap­able as her predecessor, or so well informed as to the path along which she should lead you. Of course you may feel this; we cannot help the thought occurring to us, but we must not dwell upon it — that is the point.  For if Balaam was Well instructed by an ass [Num. 22:28-30], we may with greater reason believe that God, Who gave us this Superior, will enable her to teach us according to His will, though it may not be according to our own. Our Lord has promised that the truly obedient shall never be lost; nor those, assuredly, who follow without distinction the will and direction of the Superiors whom God shall establish over them. Even if Superiors should be ignorant, and because of their ignorance should lead their inferiors by rugged and dangerous paths, the inferiors, submitting themselves to all that is not manifestly sin, nor against the Commandments of God and of His holy Church, can never, I assure you, err. The truly obedient man, says Holy Scripture [Prov. 21:28], shall speak of victory; that is to say, he will come out the conqueror in all the difficulties into which he may be led by obedience, and with honour from all the roads which he has traversed through obedience, however dangerous.

 

It would indeed be a pretty sort of obedience which was only yielded to those Superiors whom we liked! If today you have a Superior who is highly esteemed, as much for her dignity as for her virtues, you will obey her cheerfully; but to­morrow, if you have one who is not so highly thought of, you will not obey her so cheerfully. You will, indeed, render her a similar obedience, but you will not esteem what she says as highly, nor will 'you do it with as much satisfaction. Alas! who does not see that you obeyed the first from your own inclination, and not purely for God ? For if that were so, you would do with as much pleasure, and would esteem as highly, what was commanded by the one as by the other.

 

I often say — and it cannot be said too often, because it is so important for you to remember — that all our actions ought to be performed according to the dictates of our higher nature (for so must we live in this house), and never according to those of our senses and lower nature. No doubt I shall have more satisfaction, as far as my lower nature is concerned, in doing what a Superior whom I like commands me to do, than in doing the bidding of another whom I do not like at all. But provided that I obey both equally as regards the higher part of my nature, that is enough, and my obedience is worth more when I have less pleasure in yielding it, because then I prove that I obey for God, and not for my own pleasure. There is nothing more common in the world than this fashion of obeying those whom people love; but as for the other kind of obedience (t is extremely rare, and only practised in Religion.

 

"But," you may say, "is it not allowable to disap­prove of what this present Superior does, or to say or to think that we wonder why she gives orders which the last one never gave?"  Certainly not, my dear daughters, under no circumstances whatever.[13] You must approve of all that Superiors My or do, permit or forbid, provided that what they order is not manifestly contrary to the Commandments of God; for then, of course, you must neither obey nor approve.    Excepting in that case, however, inferiors must always believe, and compel their private judgment to acknowledge, that Superiors do right and are justified in doing what they do. Otherwise we should be constituting ourselves Superiors, and turning the Superiors into Inferiors, by sitting in judgment upon their actions. No, we must bend our shoulders beneath the yoke of holy obedience, believing that both these kinds of Superiors have good reasons for their commands)[14], however much they may differ from one another.

 

"But would it not be allowable for a nun who had lived in Religion for a long time, and had rendered great services to her Order, to relax somewhat in obedience, at least as regards little things?" Oh! What would that be but behaving like a master-pilot, who, having brought his vessel into port, after having laboured long and painfully to save it from the perils of winds and waves, should then wish tit break up the ship and throw himself into the sea? Would not such a man be considered most foolish? For, if such were his desire, why did he take such pains to bring his vessel into port? The Religious who has begun well, has not done all, unless ho perseveres even to the end. You must not say that novices only need to be so exact. Although, indeed, generally speaking, in all Religious Orders the novices are most exact and mortified, it is not that they are more bound to be so than the pro­fessed Religious. Oh no, for they are not as yet bound as to this, although they persevere in obedience that they may attain to the grace of profession. The professed, on the other hand, are bound to be exact and mortified in virtue of their vows, and to be Religious it would not be enough to have made them if they did not continue to observe them.[15] The Religious who think that after their profession they may relax in anything what­ever, even after having lived a long time in Re­ligion, are greatly mistaken. Our Lord showed Himself in His death more exact in obedience than even in His infancy, as I have before[16] observed. And now enough has been said about obedience to make us love it.

 

It now only remains for me to say a few words on a question put to me yesterday evening — namely, whether it is permissible for the sisters to tell one another that they have been mortified on any occasion by the Superior or the Mistress of the novices. My reply is that there are three different ways of telling this. The first is when one sister goes to another exclaiming: "Ah, sister, our Mother has just mortified me so thoroughly!" In this case she is quite glad to have been considered worthy of the mortification, and that the Superior should have told her her fault without sparing her, thus helping her to gain something for her soul. Then, happy herself, she makes her sister happy also, by asking her help to thank God for this mortification. The second way of telling it is by way of relief. The sister finds the mortification or reproof very heavy, and she tries to shift the burden a little on to the sister to whom she tells her grievance, thinking that her sympathy will lighten its weight. This way is less excusable than the first, because by complaining an imperfection is always committed. The third way is thoroughly bad; it is telling our grievance in the spirit of murmuring and irritation, and in order to make it appear that the Superior was in the wrong. I am certain this will never, by the grace of God, be done in this house.

 

As regards the first way, even though there may be no harm in telling the mortification to another sister, it would be far better not to do so, but only to think of rejoicing over it in our hearts with God. As to the second way, we must certainly have nothing to do with it, for by complaining we loss the merit of mortification. Do you know what we should do when we are reproved and mortified? We should take the mortification as a token of love, hiding it in our heart, embracing and caressing it as tenderly as possible. It is not at all right or fitting to go to one of the sisters saying: "I have just been speaking to our Mother. I am as dry as I was before. I must attach myself only to God; for me there is no consolation in creatures. I am less consoled than I was before I went to her."  The sister to whom this is said ought to answer very gently: "My dear sister, why were you not firmly attached to God, as you say we ought to be, before you went to speak to our Mother?  Then you would not feel so discontented because she has not con­soled you."  But when you say that we must attach ourselves very firmly to God, take care lest, seeking Him in default of creatures, He refuses to be found; for He wills to be sought before all things, and in spite of all things. Because Creatures do not content me, I seek the Creator. Ah no! the Creator deserves that I should quit all else  for  Him, and He  will have  it so.  When, therefore, we leave the presence of the Superior, dejected and comfortless, without having received one single drop of consolation, we must carry our dryness away with us as a precious balm, as we do with the affections bestowed on us in holy prayer — as a balm, I say, taking great care not to spill this precious liquid, sent to us from Heaven as a priceless gift, so that we may perfume our heart With the privation of that consolation which we expected to receive from the words of the Superior. But on this subject there is one thing to be observed, namely, that sometimes when we go to speak to the Superior we carry with us a heart so hard and dry, that it is incapable of being softened and refreshed by the waters of consolation. It is not easily touched by what the Superior says; and although she may speak very well with regard to what you need, it does not seem so to you.  Another time, when your heart is tender and well disposed, she may only say three or four words, much less useful for your perfection than the others wore, and yet they will console you.  Why?  Because your heart was disposed to receive consolation.  You fancy that Superiors have words of consolation always on their lips, and that they can pour them easily into the hearts of any whom they are willing to console; but this is not so.  They cannot, any more than other people, be at all times in the same humour. Happy, indeed, and blessed are those who can keep a serene and undisturbed heart amid all these varieties of moods and circumstances! At one moment we shall be consoled; the next our hearts will be dry — so dry that it will cost us much to utter any words of consolation.

 

You ask me, again, what I have to tell you as to what method is best for destroying our private judgment. I reply that the best method is faithfully to persevere in cutting off every kind of speech on occasions in which it tries to gain the upper hand, making it understand that it is only a servant. It is only by repeated acts, my dear daughters, that we acquire virtues, although there have been souls to whom God has given them all in a moment.[17] When, therefore, you are inclined to decide for your­self whether a thing is ordered rightly or wrongly, curb your private judgment in the matter. When presently you are told to do such and such a thing, do not waste your time in discussing or trying to discover whether it could be better done in some other way; but rather compel your judgment to assent to the belief, that the thing could not possibly be done in a better way than as you have been told to do it. If some exercise is prescribed for you, do not allow your judgment to consider whether it will be suitable to you or not; and take care lest, even though you may do the thing just as  you have been told to do it, your own private judgment does Hot fail in obedience —I mean, does not submit itself —because it secretly disapproves of the command. This, generally speaking, is the cause of the repug­nance we feel in doing what is desired of us; and for this reason, that when the understanding and the judgment represent to the will that a thing ought not to be, or that other means should be employed for doing it than those we were told to use, the will cannot submit itself—the more so because it always esteems more highly the reasons suggested by its own judgment than by any other, for each individual believes that his own judgment is the best. I have never met with more than two persons[18] who did not think highly of their own Judgment; but these two confessed to me that they had no judgment at all, and one of them, when he came once to see me, said: "Sir, I entreat you to tell me something about such and such a thing, for I have no judgment at all to enable me to understand it."  This speech astonished me very much.

 

We have in our own times a most remarkable instance of the mortification of private judgment. It is that of a great and very famous doctor who wrote a book, entitled On Dispensations and Commandments[19], which book falling one day into the hands of the Pope, he decided that it contained some erroneous propositions. He therefore wrote to this doctor, desiring him to erase them from his book. The doctor, receiving this command, submitted his judgment so implicitly that, he would not even explain the matter in order to justify himself, but, on the contrary, believed that he had been in the wrong, and had allowed himself to be led astray by his own judgment,. Ascending the pulpit, therefore, he read aloud what the Pope had written to him, then took his book, tore it in pieces, and told his audience that what, the Pope had decided in the matter was most wisely decided; that with all his heart he approved the censure and accepted the paternal correction which the Holy Father had deigned to bestow on him, as being most just and mild when addressed to one who had deserved severe punishment; and that he was amazed to think that he could have been so blind as to allow himself to be deceived by his private judgement in a thing so manifestly wrong.  Now, he was in no way bound to do this, seeing that the Pope had laid no such command upon him, but had only desired him to erase from his book certain things which did not seem good to the Pontiff; for, what is very remarkable is that they were not heretical, nor so manifestly erroneous that they could not be defended.  On this occasion he showed great virtue, and an admirable mortification of private judgement. 

 

Fairly often we see people whose senses are mortified, because their own will lends itself to the task of mortification.  It would be a shameful thing, they say, to rebel against obedience; what would others say of them?  But it is a rare thing to find persons in whom private judgement is really mortified.  To own that what is ordered is good, to love and esteem it as a thing useful and excellent above all else – Oh! It is here that the judgement becomes restive.  There are many who say: “I will certainly do what you order, but I can see very well that it would be better otherwise.”  Alas! What are you about?  If you foster your judgement thus it will undoubtedly intoxicate you, for there is no difference between an intoxicated person and one who is full of his own judgement.  We read that David [1 Kgs. 25:4, 25], being in the wilderness with his soldiers, who were weary and exhausted with hunger, and finding nothing to eat, sent to the husband of Abigail, asking him to furnish them with provisions.  Unhappily, this man was drunk, and, speaking like a drunkard, said that David, after having consumed all he had plundered and robbed from others, was now come to ruin him in the same way, and that he would give him nothing.  David, hearing this, exclaimed: "As God liveth, the churl shall answer for this, for I have done him nothing but good, saving his flocks and preventing any harm from being done to him," Abigail, knowing David's intention, went the following day to meet him with presents to appease him, speaking these words — or to this effect: "My lord, what would you do to a fool? Yesterday, when my husband was drunk, he spoke in­solently, but he spoke like a drunken man and like a fool.  My lord, calm your indignation, and do not lay hands on him, for you will only regret having laid hands on a fool."   We must make the same excuses for our own private judgment, as for a drunkard, for one is no more capable of reason than the other.  We must, therefore, be most careful to prevent it from making these considerations, in order that it may not intoxicate us with its reasons, especially in what relates to obedience.

 

Finally, you wish to know if you ought, with confidence and care, to admonish one another of your faults in charity. Undoubtedly, my daughter, you ought to do this, for how could you possibly see a blemish in your sister without trying to remove it, by means of an admonition? You must, however, be discreet in this matter. If you saw a sister indisposed or oppressed with melancholy, that would not be the right time to admonish her, for there would be danger of her instantly rejecting the admonition given by you at such a time.  You must wait a little while and then admonish her in confidence and charity.  If a sister should say something which appears like murmuring, and yet her heart seems otherwise full of gentleness, you ought undoubtedly to say to her in confidence: “Sister, that is not right.”  But if you notice that some passion is stirred in her heart, you must turn the subject as dexterously as you can.

 

You say that you are afraid to admonish any sister often of her faults, because it deprives her of confidence and makes her more liable to fail out of very timidity.  Oh! You must not judge our sisters in this way, for it is only in the world that people lose confidence when told of their faults.  Our sisters love their own abjection too much to do thus, and so far are they from being troubled by it, that they only take greater courage and are more careful in trying to amend; not to avoid being admonished, for I imagine that they love with a supreme love all that can render them vile and abject in their own eyes, but only that they may the better do their duty, and render themselves more fitted for their vocation.

 

 

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[1] Given at the special request of St. Jane F. de Chantal. (Translator’s note).

[2] De Virginibus, III, c. vii.

[3] It was through a printer's error that the text of 1629 here the word Paul instead of Peter.

[4] St. Paul commands us to obey our Superiors, saying: "Obey your Superiors;" "even if they should be forward," adds St. Peter. St. Paul gives us an example of this, for being one day led before the High Priest, one of the servants struck him insolently on the cheek, and the great Apostle, seeing himself struck with­out reason, by his apostolic authority gave him his malediction, saying: God shall strike thee, than, whited wall. But afterwards, when he was told that the man who had struck him had been authorised to do so by the High Priest, he repented, and showed his displeasure with himself by saying: I knew not he was the High Priest, for all we who are Christians are taught that we must honour those who have any superiority over us. (Addition).

[5] the beautiful – maiden Rebecca, who was a shepherdess, and afterwards a princess; but in those days princes and princesses all did some work.  (Addition).

[6] promptly – and graciously.  (Addition).

[7] Surius, ad diem 14 Maii.

[8] Even from the moment of His Conception, when He went wherever Our Lady carried Him, from Nazareth to Bethlehem. It seems that He was even more obedient in His death than at the beginning of His life, for when He was on the lap of His Blessed Mother, He moved His little hands and feet, trying to walk, but in His death He stirred neither hand nor foot, dying motionless through obedience.

[9] It is well known that novices in the year of their novitiate do wonders!  Every one observes how mortified they are, with their eyes almost constantly fixed on the ground…

[10] Ah, how many examples there are in the lives of the holy Fathers, of the exact practice of obedience in things indifferent! As, for instance, in the case of that friar whom St. Francis desired to plant the cabbages root upmost; which the good friar did instantly, and behold! The cabbages grew as well as those which were planted in the proper way, so greatly does Our Lord favour obedience. Certainly, in these matters of little consequence, it would be a very great imperfection to resist doing them when they are commanded, for their sole use is to keep us in humility. Obedience, as I have already said, being a principal ingredient of humility, loves and ardently desires to be commanded to do the most abject things; although, indeed, nothing is esteemed small or of slight importance by the truly obedient, because they regard everything as a means of uniting themselves to God and to Our Lord, Who so loved obedience that, as St. Bernard says, He chose rather to die than to fail in it. (Addition.')

[11] ... Oh no, my dear daughter, there would be little or no sin if you forgot sometimes, unless the thing were very important, for in that case you would be obliged to use great attention to keep it in mind; likewise, if it were something necessary for the good order of the house. ... To fail occasion­ally from forgetfulness is not wrong; but to do so from care­lessness, bad habit, or otherwise, there would be the sin.

The commandments of God and of holy Church are not so rigorous as is thought; they do not condemn souls to hell so much as is believed. The law of God is an absolute law of love and most sweet, as David assures us. Involuntary distractions do not render our prayers or our Office less pleasing to God, and it is just the same with what you say about sleeping. Just as we are not obliged to repeat our Office because we were dis­tracted while saying it, so in the same way there is no obligation whatever to repeat it because we fell asleep for a little while when we were laying it, provided that it was not during a con­siderable part of the Office, and that we tried our best to keep ourselves awake. Of course, if we were careless about that, there would be matter for confession. "I began to say my Office wide awake, and with the intention of saying it as I ought to do ; during the Office a little drowsiness came over me ; nevertheless, I said my alternate verse after a fashion, and that through one or two Psalms. What would you do in that case?" Well, you certainly ought not to confess this, because there is no remedy that you could apply, neither can you avoid distractions which will inevitably arise.

You tell me next that you do not submit yourself to the exact observance of that article of the Rule which desires you to admonish your sisters in charity of their faults, under the pretext of its being a matter of little importance, but in reality because you dislike doing it. To that, my dear daughter, I reply that though this Rule may not be binding upon you tinder pain of sin, yet the love which you ought to feel for your Rules obliges you to observe it. Certainly, love of the Rules is most important; a hundred times a day every sister should renew this love in her heart, and whatever point in them is most repugnant to us, that point, I say, we should practise with the greatest fidelity, so as to show our love to Our Lord. I say this also with regard to our antipathies, for if it should happen that one sister has a slight antipathy to another, in order to overcome it she must be especially tender towards her, and try to be often with her, so as to speak to her and render her little services.

Let us return to our subject and say that we must not, by vain scruples, condemn souls ... [Return to text, "Neither Superiors," etc.] (Additions.)

[12] loving. Undoubtedly, you are not bound to admonish the sisters of their faults, if it is not your business to do so, because the Rules make use of the expression, they may; but, my dear daughter, there is a command of God bidding us correct one another, which is of still greater authority than the Rule. It is true that this refers to sin, for it would be too troublesome to be always admonishing one another concerning those slight imperfections to which, through our frailty, we are all of us subject. But, to return to what we were saying, would it not, I ask, show a great want of courage, and very little love for God, if we were only willing to do what was commanded us and nothing more? It is true that he who would keep the com­mandments of God, but would do nothing else, would assuredly not be damned; but it would show that it was not for God, or for the love of God, that he so obeyed, but simply in order that he might escape condemnation. It is as if a man boasted that he was not a thief. We should reply: "Well, if you are not a thief you will not be hanged; that is your reward." You obey the commandments of God which are made for you; well, you will not be turned out of the monastery; but, at the same time, you will not be looked upon as a faithful servant of God, but as a mercenary, if you do nothing more. The servant who will render no service to his master but that which he was engaged to do, will be considered as a surly, disobliging fellow. "Very well," the master will say, if he does not dismiss him from his household, "you may stop short at the service for which I actually engaged you, but I shall also stop short at the wages which I promised you, and you will have nothing more."

You say that you are willing to do what is advised, and even what is prescribed to you in the way of direction, but that you wish to know whether, if you should fail in this sometimes, you are as much bound to confess it as if you had failed in the keeping of a commandment. Certainly not. When a man in his confession tells me that he gambles, and that when doing so he generally swears because he is liable to get into a passion, I at once command him in the name of God to give up gambling, and this command which I give him he is bound to obey.    But when I ask him if he always swears when he gambles, and he replies: " No, not generally;" then I say to him: " My son, I advise you not to gamble any more, because it is an idle and useless amusement."    This suggestion he is not bound to follow under pain of sin; nor when I say to him by way of direction: “My child, you ought to abstain from gambling."  Since I am not obliged to forbid his gambling, if it only very rarely makes him fly into a passion, or swear, he is not at all obliged to abstain from it.   So is it also when Superiors say something to us which they do not command, although the perfection to which we aspire, ought to make us esteem and embrace whatever may serve to unite us more closely to the divine Majesty, which Union ought to be the one only aim of our souls, for which we ought to do all that we do ...  May God keep us from any lack of courage in embracing the practice of loving obedience inch as we have just described!

[13] If Superiors could be made of wax or all cast in one mould according to our fancy, we should then probably be pleased, for we could bend them according to our will, and so doing they would only command us to do what we should like to do. "But may we never disapprove if the new Superior is less ready to grant permission than the other, and may we not say, or at least think, that we wonder at her giving us commands which the other never gave ?" Oh no, never … (Addition).

[14] How often it happens that one Pope forbids a thing which his successor commands to be done! Ought we to say: "Why does he do that?" No, never — on the contrary, we must bow our shoulders beneath the yoke of holy obedience, believing that both have good reason for giving the command. (Addition).

[15] observe—They would be like those who appear very mortified at Easter, because they go to confession, and the next day are as worldly as they were before. (Addition.)

[16] observed—Because when He was lying on the lap of His Blessed Mother, and she wished to wrap the swaddling-clothes more closely round Him, He moved His infant hands and feet a little; but on the Cross He never stirred, but suffered His executioners to drive in the nails just as they pleased. (Addition).

[17] in a moment—Such as St. Catherine of Genoa, who was converted in a moment when kneeling before her confessor, and so absolutely that another servant of God, living at that time in the same city, wondered how she, St. Catherine, had so quickly amended all her imperfections; while St. Catherine on her side wondered that, after having spent so long a time in trying to amend, she had not yet succeeded. (Addition.)

[18] One of these persons was Mgr. Camus, Bishop of Belley. (See The Spirit of St. Francis de Sales, Part I. Chapter 34).

[19] In all probability the “great doctor” here mentioned was Pierre de Villars, Archbishop of Vienne, who is described almost in the same way in the Preface of The Treatise on the Love of God.  This Prelate had published a book entitled Remonstrances, Warnings, and Exhortations on the principal things which need to be reformed, established, and observed in the Canonical Hours," &c. (Jaques Boussin, Lyon, 1608). Now, in the "Conclusion." of this book were formulated on the subject of the "Commendams" and "Exemptions" certain propositions which, displeased Pope Clement VIII. As soon as the author was aware of the displeasure of the Pontiff, he wrote him a letter of submission, the original of which is preserved in the archives of the Vatican (Nonc. di Savoia, vol. xxix. p. 170). It is couched in terms identical with those used by St. Francis de Sales.

The difference of the title given to the part of the work which was censured does not weaken our assertion. It can easily be understood how the Nun charged with the duty of reporting the Conference, confused the terms "Dispensations and Commandments" with "Commendams and Exemptions." She was equally mistaken in ascribing the authorship of the treatise to a "Doctor of Louvain." We have, therefore, carefully expunged this error from the text of the True Conferences.

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