Salesian Literature

Chapter 10  :  How we ought to love God far more than ourselves

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One thing is certain: the will is so devoted, so consecrated (we might say) to goodness, that if an infinite goodness be clearly set before it, only a miracle could prevent the will from loving it supremely.  The saints in heaven, in fact, are unavoidably but not forcibly enraptured into loving God, whose supreme beauty they see so clearly.  Scripture makes this sufficiently evident by comparing the contentment that flows over the glorious inhabitants of the heavenly Jerusalem to a fountain; or to flowing waters, whose course nothing can stay (cf. Ps. 35:9; 45:5).

 

In this life, however, we are not unavoidably drawn to love God so highly, since our knowledge of him is not so plain.  In heaven, where we shall see him face to face (1 Cor. 13:12), we shall love him heart to heart.  In other words: as we shall all see, each in our measure, his infinite beauty in a supremely clear vision, so shall we be enraptured with love of his infinite goodness by a rapture that is utterly intense, which we shall never want, nor be capable of wanting, to resist.  Here on earth, however, where we cannot see the supreme goodness in all his beauty, but catch only confused glimpses of him amid the darkness that surrounds us, we undoubtedly know an inclination, an attraction to love him more than ourselves – though we know no compulsion.  Rather, the opposite is true: although we have a natural virtuous instinct for loving God above all things, we lack strength to fulfil it unless God himself pours out charity into our hearts supernaturally.

 

For all that, it is quite true that as the unclouded vision of the godhead infallibly awakens the necessity of loving him more than ourselves, so the imperfect notion of him – our natural knowledge of God, in other words – infallibly arouses the instinct, the tendency to love him more than ourselves.  Why, the will is made for loving what is good; so, I ask you, how can it know, however imperfectly, a supreme good and not be even slightly drawn to love it supremely?

 

When it comes to goodness which is not infinite, the will always shows a preference in its love for what it finds most congenial, and especially for its own goodness.  But the difference between finite and infinite is so immeasurably great that once the will is aware of an infinite good, it is indubitably set in motion, instinctively urged to prefer the friendship of that mine of infinite goodness to any other love – even that of self.

 

The chief reason for the strength of this instinct is that God is closer to us than ourselves that we lie more in him than in ourselves (cf. Acts. 17:28), that we exist for and through him to such an extent that we cannot calmly reflect on what we mean to him and what he means to us, without being impelled to exclaim: “Thine I am (Ps. 118:94), Lord, and must be yours alone.  My soul is yours, and must live for you .  my will is yours, and must love only for your sake.  My love is yours, and must be directed solely to you.  I must love you as my first principle, since I come from you; I must love you as my goal, my haven of peace, since I was made for you.  I must love you more than my own being, for my being only contributes to exist through you.  I must love you more than myself, since I am wholly yours and cannot exist apart from you.”

 

Could there be some supreme goodness on which we did not depend, we should be impelled to love it more than ourselves – provided we could enter into loving union with it – since the infinity of its charm would always prove to have infinitely more attraction for our wills than any other goodness, even our own.

 

But suppose – again imagining the impossible – that there were an infinite goodness of which we were entirely free, and with which we could have no kind of union or intercourse whatever; we should set greater store by it than ourselves, that is certain.  We should understand that, since it is infinite, it is worthier of esteem, more lovable, than we; consequently we should be able simply to wish that we could love it.

 

To put it plainly, however, we should not love it, for love seeks union.  Still less should we know charity, where it is concerned; for charity is friendship, and friendship must be mutual, based on companionship, directed towards union.

 

As for us, however, Theotimus my friend, we are well aware that we cannot be true men, if we lack the instinct to love God more than ourselves; nor can we be true Christians, if we do not give full rein to that instinct.  Let us love him more than ourselves, who is more to us than everything – even ourselves.  Amen, for so it is.

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