Salesian Literature

Chapter 16  :  The example of some saints implies no contradiction of the advice in the previous chapter

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Of course it is true that Moses (cf. Ex. 32:19-29), Phinees (cf. Num. 25:7-11), Elias (cf. 1 Kgs. 18:40; 2 Kgs. 1:10-12), Mattathias (cf. 1 Macc. 2:24, 26), and many other great servants of God employed anger in the exercise of zeal on a number of memorable occasions.  However, I should like you to notice that they were great souls, who could control their passions, restrain their anger.  They were like that worthy centurion in the gospel (cf. Mt. 8:9), who used to tell his soldiers to go, and they went; to come, and they came.  As for us, however, we are common folk, little people; we have no such control over our emotions – our horses are not so well broken in that we can set them in motion or rein them in at will.

 

Great saints, who have gained control of their passions by dint of mortifying them in the practice of virtue, can unleash or restrain their anger as they will; but we, whose passions are unbridled, untrained, or at least poorly controlled – we cannot unleash our anger without fear of trouble. Once we relax our grip, our passions get out of control.

 

St. Denis told Demophilus, the monk who would have cloaked his rage and fury under the name of zeal:

 

The man who means to correct others should first of all take care to prevent anger from usurping the ruling authority of reason which God has placed in his soul, so that it does not give rise to rebellion, mutiny or confusion within him.  Thus I cannot approve of the hasty things you did under the influence of imprudent zeal, though you recall a thousand times the parallel of Phinees or Elias.  Such a comparison failed to meet with out Lord’s approval, when the disciples urged it before they had learned to share his gentle and kindly spirit.

 

One day, as our Lord was passing through Samaria, he sent messengers on ahead to find a lodging in the next village.  The inhabitants, however, knowing that our Lord was a Jew going to Jerusalem, refused to receive him.  When they found this, two of his disciples, James and John, asked him, Lord, wouldst thou have us bid fire come down from heaven, and consume them?  But he turned and rebuked them, You do not understand, he said, what spirit it is you share.  Then Son of Man has come to save men’s lives, not to destroy them (Lk. 9:52-56).

 

This is what St. Denis meant when he referred to Demophilus’ appeal to the example of Phinees and Elias.  Sts. James and John, after all, who would have imitated Elias in calling down fire from heaven, were taken to task by our Lord; he let it be understood that his spirit and zeal were gentle, meek and gracious, only very rarely indignant, wrathful – when there seemed to be no other course to follow, if he were to do any good.

 

Sure enough, when God’s great servants used anger the occasions were so solemn, or the offences so monstrous, that there was no danger of the punishment exceeding the crime.

 

Because St. Paul once called the Galatians senseless (Gal. 3:1), once depicted for the men of Crete their evil dispositions (cf. Titus 1:12), and once opposed St. Peter, his superior, openly (Gal. 2:11) – does that entitle us to revile sinners, castigate nations, criticise or condemn our leaders and prelates?  Not everyone is a St. Paul, to know when and how such things are called for; that is certain.  But there are people of a sharp, tetchy, conceited and slanderous frame of mind, who are slaves to their inclinations, moods, dislikes and bumptiousness, but try to cover up the harm they do under a cloak of zeal; and each of them, in the name of this fiery virtue, allows himself to be consumed by his own passions, zeal for the salvation of souls set his heart upon a bishopric – if you would believe the ambitious priest; it sends the monk running anywhere but to his choir – so the restless religious will tell you; it calls for severe condemnation and criticism of the prelates of the Church, of the princes of the realm – if you would listen to the haughty individual.  All they talk about – those people – is zeal, but you never see any; the only result is backbiting, anger, hatred, envy and restlessness of mind and tongue.

 

First of all, judicial methods may be resorted to in righting abuses.  This is the prerogative only of those who have the public duty of correcting, censuring or taking others to task in virtue of some authority – such as princes, magistrates, prelates, preachers.  The respect shown to officialdom, however, leads everyone to dabble in it.

 

Secondly, zeal can be practised by such virtuous actions as giving good example, suggesting remedies for wrongs, urging their use, or by practising the contrary virtue to the vice it is wished to uproot.  This is everyone’s prerogative, yet few are anxious to employ it.

 

Lastly, the perfect practice of zeal lies in suffering or enduring many things in order to prevent or remove evil.  Scarcely anyone, however, will undertake this kind.  Most people aim at something that only looks like zeal; they will gladly try their hand at that, giving never a thought to the fact that their motive is not really zeal, but personal glory or the satisfaction of their pride, anger, resentment or other passions.

 

“How happy the man is,” exclaims St. Ambrose, “who can control his zeal!”  “The devil,” says St. Bernard, “will easily make your zeal his plaything, if you don’t know how to use it; so keep you zeal ablaze with charity, bright with knowledge, strong in steadfastness.”  True zeal is charity’s offspring, for it is the earnestness of charity.  That is why, like charity, it is patient, is kind, untroubled, not given to strife, feels no envy, but rejoices at the victory of truth (1 Cor. 13:4-6).

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