Salesian Literature

Letters on:

Loving and Serving God in Your Daily Life

1. Marriage is an exercise in mortification   ::   2. As far as possible, make your devotion attractive  ::   3. Have patience with everyone, including yourself

4. Keep yourself gentle amid household troubles  ::   5. Do what you see can be done with love  ::   6. Parents can demand more than God Himself

7. Avoid making your devotion troublesome  ::   8. Have contempt for contempt  ::   9. Lord, what would You have me to do?  ::   10. Take Jesus as your patron

11. Remain innocent among the hissing of serpents  ::   12. Never speak evil of your neighbour  ::   13. Extravagant recreations may be blameworthy

14. We must not ask of ourselves what we don't have  ::   15. If you get tired of kneeling, sit down  ::   16. You will not lack mortification

17. We must always walk faithfully  ::   18. Illness can make you agreeable to God  ::   19. You are being crowned with His crown of thorns

20. Often the world calls evil what is good  ::   21. Rest in the arms of Providence  ::   22. In confidence, lift up your heart to our Redeemer

23. We must slowly withdraw from the world  ::   24. This dear child was more God's than yours  ::   25. Think of no other place than Paradise or Purgatory

26. How tenderly I loved her!  ::   27. Calm your mind, lift up your heart  ::   28. Miserable beggars receive the greatest mercy

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23. We must slowly withdraw from the world

To an elderly man, telling him how to prepare for death

 

Sir,

 

… I know that you have passed a long and very honourable life, and have always been very consistent in the Holy Catholic Church; but, after all, it has been in the world, and in the management of its affairs.  It is a strange thing, but experience and authors witness it: a horse, however fine and strong he may be, travelling on the paths and trail of the wolf, becomes giddy and troublesome.  It is not possible that, while living in the world, although we only touch it with our feet, we are not soiled with its dust.  Thus says St. Leo.[1]

 

Our ancient fathers, Abraham and the others, usually offered to their guests the washing of their feet (Gen. 18:4).  I think, sir, that the first thing to be done is to wash the affections of our souls in order to receive the hospitality of our good God in His Paradise.

 

It seems to me that it is always a great matter of reproach to mortals to die without having thought of this; but doubly so to those whom God has favoured with the blessing of old age.  Those who get ready before the alarm is given, always put on their armour better than those who, on their fright, run hither and thither for their cuirass, the cuisses, and the helmet.

 

We must leisurely say goodbye to the world, and little by little withdraw our affections from creatures.  Trees that the wind tears up are not suitable to transplant, because they leave their roots in the earth; but he who would carry trees into another soil must skilfully disengage little by little all the roots one after the other.  And since from this miserable land we are to be transplanted into that of the living, we must withdraw and disengage our affections one after the other from this world.  I do not say that we must roughly break all the ties we have formed (it would, perhaps, require immense efforts for that), but we must unsew and untie them.

 

Those who depart suddenly are excusable for not saying goodbye to their friends, and for starting with a poor setting out; but not so those who know the probable time of their journey.  They must keep ready – not, indeed, as if to start before the time, but to await it with more tranquillity.

 

For this purpose, I think, sir, that you will have an incredible consolation if you choose from each day an hour, to think before God and your good angel, on what is necessary to make a happy departure.  What order would your affairs be in if you knew your death would be soon?  I know these thoughts will not be new to you; but the way of making them must be new in the presence of God, with a tranquil attention, and rather for the purpose of moving the affections than enlightening the intellect.

 

St. Jerome has more than once[2] applied to the wisdom of the old the history of Abishag, the Shunammite, who slept on the bosom of David not our of sensuality but solely to warm him (3 Kings 1:1-4; RSV 1 Kings 1:1-4).  Wisdom and the consideration of philosophy often engage young people, it is more to recreate their spirit than to excite good movements in their affections. But wisdom and the consideration of philosophy should engage the old solely to give them the true warmth of devotion.

 

I have seen and enjoyed your fine library; I present you, for your spiritual lesson on this matter, St. Ambrose, De bono mortis (On the benefit of death), St. Bernard, De interiori domo (On the interior house), and several scattered homilies of St. John Chrysostom.

 

Your St. Bernard says that the soul should first go and kiss the feet of the crucifix, to rectify its affections, and to resolve with firm resolution to withdraw itself little by little from the world and its vanities; then kiss the hands, by that newness of actions that follows the change of affections; and finally that the soul should kiss the mouth uniting itself by an ardent love to the supreme goodness.[3]  This is the true progress of a becoming departure.

 

It is said that Alexander the Great, sailing on the wide ocean, discovered, alone and first, Arabia Felix, by the scent of its aromatic trees.[4]  He was at first the only one to perceive it, because he alone was seeking it.  Those who seek after the eternal country, although sailing on the high sea of the affairs of this world, possess a certain presentiment of Heaven, which animates and encourages them marvellously.  But they must keep themselves before the wind, and their prow turned in the proper direction.

 

We owe ourselves to God, to our country, to our parents, to our friends.  To God, firstly; then to our country (that is, first to our heavenly country and secondly to our earthly one).  Then we owe ourselves to our near ones, but “no one is so near as ourself,” says our Christian Seneca.[5]  Finally, we owe ourselves to friends; but are you not the first of your friends?  He remarks that St. Paul says to Timothy, “Attend to yourself and to your flock” (Acts 20:28) – first to yourself, then to your flock.

 

This is quite enough, sir, if not too much, for this year, which flies and melts away before us, and in these two next months will make us see the vanity of its existence like all the preceding, which exist no more.  You commanded me to write you every year something of this sort.  I am now straight for this year, in which I beseech you to withdraw your affections from the world as much as possible, and in proportion as you withdraw them to transport them to Heaven.

 

And pardon me, I beseech you, by your own humility, if my simplicity has been so extravagant in its obedience as to write to you, at such length and freedom on a simple demand, and with the full sense that I have of your abundant wisdom, which should keep me either in silence or in an exact moderation.  Here are waters, sir; if they come from the jawbone of an ass, Samson will not refuse to drink of them (Judg. 15:19).  I pray God to heap up your years with His benedictions, and I am, with an entirely filial affection, sir,

 

Your most humble and obedient servant,

Francis

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[1] St. Leo the Great, Sermon 42, Chapter 1.

[2] St. Jerome, Letter 52 ad Nepotianum, 2-3.

[3] St. Bernard of Clairvaux, Sermons on Diverse Matters, 87.1.

[4] Pliny the Elder, Natural History, Book 12, Chapter 42.

[5] St. Bernard of Clairvaux, On consideration, Book 1, chapter 5.

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