Salesian Literature

Chapter 8  :  Benevolence leads to praising God

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Once we are extremely gratified at God’s infinite perfection, we come to realize that his goodness leaves nothing to be desired, that it is infinitely beyond our thoughts and dreams.  But at least we desire that his name be increasingly hallowed, extolled, praised, held in honour and adored.  So we start with ourselves.

 

Such a desire for praising God, to which benevolence of soul inspires us, can never be fully satisfied.  It makes us long to have infinite praises at our command – past all counting, you see, the perfections we discern in God!  As we find that we are far from capable of gratifying our longing, we try to praise him (as being most worthy of all praise) with all our heart; and these benevolent efforts of ours are wonderfully improved by the gratification which we feel.  The more we discover how good God is – increasingly attracted by his charms, gratified at his infinite beauty – the more we are driven to sound his praises higher still.  The stronger waxes our praise of God’s loving kindness, the greater grows the satisfaction we find in it.  This growing satisfaction stimulates us to further praise; so that gratification and praise, each interacting on the other, are ever powerfully contributing to their common growth.

 

Nightingales, in the same way, find such satisfaction in their song (so Pliny tells us) that they have been known to warble uninterruptedly for fifteen days and nights, striving to outdo each other in their singing.  The finer their efforts the greater is their satisfaction.  This growing gratification only stimulates them to trill the more; and satisfaction and song, each acting on the other, sometimes bring about a bird’s death – its throat shattered by dint of singing.

 

Heaven knows the delightful ache and the aching delight of the human heart in its urge to sing God’s praises, when all its efforts fall so far short!  Poor nightingale that it is, it ever wants to emit a louder note, improve its melody, so as better to sing the praises of the beloved.  The greater the praise, the greater is the pleasure attached to it; the greater the pleasure of praising, the greater is the displeasure at being unable to praise more perfectly.

 

To find what peace it can under the stress of this emotion, the heart tries ever harder, only to find itself repeatedly overcome.  This used to befall St. Francis of Assisi: often, amid the delights he enjoyed in praising God, in singing his songs, he would burst into tears; so faint, he would drop whatever he happened to be holding.  He was often left heartbroken with love, unable to breathe in air by dint of breathing out the praises of one whom he could never praise enough.

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