Salesian Literature

Conference 21  :  On Asking for Nothing

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my Mother, I was speaking one day to an excellent Nun, who asked me if, wishing to go to Communion oftener than the rest of the Community, she might ask permission of the Superior to do so. I told her that if I were a Religious, I think I should not ask to be allowed to communicate oftener than my brethren, nor to wear sackcloth, a hair shirt, or an iron girdle, nor to perform extraordinary fasts, nor to use the discipline, nor anything of that kind. I should content myself with following in all respects the ways of the Community. If I were in strong health I would not eat four times a day; but if I were desired to take these four meals, I would do so, and say nothing. If I were in feeble health, and yet was told to eat only once a day, I would obey without thinking whether I was in feeble health or not. I[1] wish for few things, and what I do wish for, I wish for but slightly. I have scarcely any desires, but if I could begin my life over again, I would have none at all. If God came to me, I would also go to Him; but if He did not will to come to me, I would stay where I was, and would not go to Him[2].

 

I say, then, that we must neither ask anything nor refuse anything, but leave ourselves absolutely in the arms of divine Providence, without busying ourselves with any desires, except to will what God wills of us. St. Paul practised this self-abandon­ment most excellently at the very moment of his conversion, for when Our Lord had smitten him with blindness, he cried out instantly: "Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?" [Acts 9:6] and from that time forth he continued in absolute dependence upon the will and commands of God. Our whole perfection lies in the practice of this; and the same St. Paul, writing to one of his disciples, forbids him, among other things, to allow his heart to be engrossed with any strong desire, so well did the great Apostle know the danger of this failing.

 

You say: "We must not, then, desire virtues, although Our Lord says: Ask, and it shall be given to you." Oh, my daughters, when I say that you must ask for nothing and desire nothing, I am speaking of earthly things; as for virtues, we may, of course, ask for them, and in asking for the love of God, we comprise all, for it contains them all.

 

But, you say, as regards external matters, may we not desire mean and lowly offices and employments, because they are more laborious and troublesome, and give more opportunities of humbling ourselves for God's sake? My daughter, David said [Ps. 83:11] that he would rather "be abject in the house of the Lord than be great among sinners; and It is good, 0 Lord, he says, that Thou hast humbled me that I may learn Thy justifications [Ps. 118:71]. Yet, nevertheless, such a desire is very suspicious, and may spring from a merely human source. How do you know whether, having desired mean offices, you will have strength to accept the humiliations which will meet you in them at every turn, and the bitternesses, weariness, and disgust which may come upon you? For even though you may at the present moment feel strength sufficient to endure mortifications and humiliations, how do you know that you will always have it?

 

In short, a desire for any special occupations, whatever they may be, whether mean or honourable, must always be regarded in the light of a temptation. It is always best to desire nothing, but to hold ourselves in readiness to receive what­ever obedience may impose upon us. Whether these duties, so imposed, be exalted or lowly, I should accept them humbly without saying a single word, unless questioned on the subject, when I should reply simply and truthfully, saying just what I thought.

 

You ask me how we can practise this holy in difference when sickness comes upon us. I find in the Holy Gospels a perfect model in St. Peter's wife's mother [Mt. 8:14-15; Lk. 4:38-39]. That good woman, lying sick of a great fever, practised many virtues, but the one which I admire the most is her absolute self-surrender to the Providence of God and the care of her superiors.  She was stricken with fever, still was tranquil and peaceful, without any disquietude about herself, and causing none to those who were with her. Yet we all know what is the natural condition of a fever patient; the burning restlessness makes repose impossible, and is accompanied by a thousand other discomforts. Now, this great surrender which our sick woman made of herself into the hands of her superiors, prevented her from being the least anxious or uneasy as to her health, or as to the probability of her recovery; she was content to boar her malady with sweetness and patience. Oh, how happy was this good woman! Certainly she deserved to be well cared for, as indeed she was by the Apostles, who, without any solicitation on her part, provided for her cure, out of charity and compassion for all that she suffered. Happy will those Religious be who make an absolute surrender of themselves into the hands of their Superiors, and these Superiors will assuredly, through motives of charity, wait on them and provide most carefully for all their wants and necessities. Remember, too, that charity is much stronger and more assiduous than mere natural affection.

 

This sick woman knew very well that Our Lord was at Capearnaum, and that He was healing the sick, yet she did not fret and disquiet herself, trying to send some one to let Him know that she was suffering. But, what is more admirable still, she saw Him enter her house, as the sovereign Physician, yet so little was she occupied about her cure, that she did not even think of Him in this capacity. In her eyes He was her God alone, to Whom she belonged in health and in sickness, being as content to be sick as to be in perfect health. How many would have used little arts and subterfuges that they might be healed by Our Lord, and would have said that they only asked for health that they might serve him better, fearing that He might need something done which in their sickness they could not do! But this good woman had no such thought, and showed her perfect resignation in not oven asking to be healed. I do not, however, say that we may not very justly ask this of Our Lord, Who alone can give us the boon, but it must be with this condition, if such is His will; for we should always say: Fiat volunlas tua [Mt. 6:10].

 

It is not enough to be sick and afflicted because God wills it; but we must be so as He wills, when He wills, for as long as He wills, and exactly in the manner in which it pleases Him; neither choosing nor rejecting any sickness or affliction, however mean and abject it may seem to us; for sickness and affliction without abjection often inflate the heart, instead of humbling it! But when we have any kind of pain or ill without honour, or when dishonour, degradation, and abjection are themselves the very ills from which we suffer, what opportunities arise for exercising patience, humility, modesty, and sweetness of mind and heart! Let us, then, be most careful, like this good woman, to keep our hearts submissive, profiting, as she did, by our maladies, for she rose up as soon as Our Lord had driven away the fever, and ministered to Him. In doing this she cer­tainly showed great virtue, and that she had profited by her sickness, for, being once rid of it, she desired only to use her health for the service of Our Lord, employing it for this purpose the very instant she had recovered it. Truly she was not like people in the world, who, after a few days' sickness, require weeks and months to recruit themselves.

 

Our Lord upon the Cross shows us how we must mortify our softness. When a burning thirst was consuming Him, he asked for nothing to drink, but simply made known His necessity, saying I thirst. After which He made an act of perfect submission; and when some one offered Him, on the point of a lance, a sponge steeped in vinegar to slake His thirst, He moistened His blessed lips with it [Jn. 19:28-30]. How wonder­ful! He knew that it was a beverage which would increase His suffering, yet He took it simply without showing any displeasure or disgust; to teach us with what submission we ought to take the remedies and nourishment presented to us when we are sick, with­out showing so much repulsion and dissatisfaction, even though we may be doubtful whether they will do us any good. Alas! when we are suffering even the very slightest inconvenience, we do just the very contrary to what our gentle Master has taught us, for we never cease bewailing ourselves, and seem as if we could not find a sufficient number of persons to carry our complaints and lamentations to, or who will listen to the catalogue of our aches and pains.

 

Our suffering, whatever it may be, is quite unex­ampled; what others may have to endure is not to be compared with it. We are too impatient and worried for words; nothing can be found to satisfy us. Truly, it is a sorrowful thing to see how little we imitate the patience of Our Saviour, Who forgot His own grief and agonies, and even strove to hide them from men, contented that His heavenly Father, through obedience to Whom He endured them, should look upon them, and that thus His wrath should be appeased towards that human nature for which He suffered.

 

Do you ask what I desire should remain most deeply engraved upon your mind, so that you may put it in practice?[3] Ah, my dear daughters, what shall I say, except those excellent words I have so often already recommended to you: Desire nothing, refuse nothing. These words say everything, for they teach us the practice of perfect indifference. Look upon the Infant Jesus in the Crib; He accepts poverty, nakedness, the company of brute boasts, all the inclemencies of the weather — all, in fact, that happens to Him by His Father's permission. We are never told that He stretched forth His little hands to His Mother's breast; He left her to provide all that was necessary to Him, but, at the same time, He never refused the little comforts which she gave Him. He received the services of St. Joseph, the adoration of the kings and of the shepherds, all with equal indifference. So, too, ought we to desire nothing and to refuse nothing, but to suffer and to receive with perfect evenness of mind all that the Providence of God may permit. May God give us grace to do this.

 

Blessed be God.

 

 

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[1] . . . I wish for few things; what I do desire, I desire for God; I have scarcely any desires, but were I to begin life again, I would have, or would wish to have, none at all. If God came to me, favouring me with the sensible feeling of His presence, I also would go to Him, accepting His grace and corresponding therewith; but if He did not choose to come to me, I would stay where I was, and would not move towards Him. What I mean is that I would not strive after the feeling of His presence, but would content myself with apprehending Him by faith alone. (Var.)

[2] The last lines of the " variant" give the real meaning of this proposition, incompletely put forward in the text.

[3] This is the last farewell which our beloved Father addressed to his dear Sisters of Lyons, on the feast of St. Stephen, in the evening, the eve of the day before his most blessed death.  He died on the Fest of the Holy Innocents, 1622. (MS.) – When he saw the torches lighted to conduct him home, he said, with astonishment, to his servants: “Ah, what are you doing?  I could well have passed the night here without thinking about it.  I must go; obedience calls me. A Dieu, farewell, my dear daughters.  I take you all into my heart, and bequeath it to you as a pledge of my friendship.” (MS.)

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