Giving something which we ourselves
knew not we could give.
Plinio Corrêa de Oliveira [Sept. 20, 1970]
In This Chapter
Selflessness, generosity, and thus nobility of soul, when placed at the service of a true cause, are within everyone’s reach in everyday life. It is the struggle against selfishness, mediocrity and near-sightedness.
Yes, selfishness, which, like a black phantom or perhaps worse, a gray one, presents itself at every moment as the opposite of nobility of soul with related states of mind such as ambition, indifference and complacency. But the pinnacle of idealism is to attain the heroism of the third degree of tiredness.
The Three Degrees of Tiredness
Our Lord fell three times. The number three raises high considerations and digressions about tiredness and suffering.
So, we who often feel the burden of fatigue could learn from the fact that the tiredness of Our Lord Jesus Christ carrying His Cross was manifested in three falls.
I will not investigate this matter as an exegete but only as a reasonable man with common sense.
The First Fall
The first degree of tiredness takes place when a man carries a burden until all his common energies are exhausted and falls under its weight.
The very act of falling causes him to recover a bit and he has a second inspiration, whereby he mobilizes his more profound energy. Admirably controlling his body, he calls upon all the latent strength inside him. Although not accustomed to mobilizing this energy in daily life, he harnesses it and forges ahead.
During the first fall, man reasons: “This is terribly difficult! I cannot do it. However, since it must be done, I want to carry this burden and make this effort despite its difficulty. I want to make this act of dedication and accomplish my mission.”
He reflects: “If I really dig deep, maybe I can summon new courage and find the strength I need to continue.”
Thus, there is a second mobilization of the soul’s energy. The soul makes a greater effort and moves on until the next fall: the second degree of tiredness.
The Second Fall
In this second degree, the soul reflects: “I mobilized all that I had and did all that I could. Still, I have fallen again under the weight of this burden. Now, my energies are more exhausted than during the first fall. Nevertheless, I have already drawn from myself more than I ever imagined possible, and I still want to move forward. I don’t want to give up.”
Tempted to discouragement, he considers: “Although my mission is noble and worthwhile, the weight of my burden has increased.” He has no more energy, so he increases his prayers and turns to Our Lady, saying: “My Mother, thou seest that, on my own, I can go no further. Either thou wilt help me more than before, or I will be unable to do what thou biddest me.”
Observing himself more closely, groping honestly through his energy reserves, he finds that there is still something left to sacrifice. His prayer has been answered. Besides the energy of which he was unaware, he finds new supernatural strength that permits him to continue. He rises a second time and advances, supported more by the angels than by himself.
He realizes there was something more to give. Though unable to walk, he can still drag himself along. He has decided to accomplish his mission, even if he has to ask God for a miracle.
The Third Fall
In the third stage, he falls once again. He is a wreck and realizes he no longer has any capacity to resist. His available energies are completely exhausted. Still, he does not give in. He turns to himself and says:
“I must hope against all hope. Although I only have energy to stand, I must at least get back on my feet and try to take one step. Beyond this, everything is blind confidence, a dark night and total exhaustion, but I will walk no matter what. I will arrive at the end.”
He gets back on his feet and walks. In so doing, he gives something from the very depth of his being that he never imagined he possessed. He exhausts what truly is the last breath of his soul and performs the most complete act of love. Only then, when he gives himself entirely does he attain the clearest vision of his ideal.
He rises from the third fall, and takes a few more stumbling steps to arrive at the place of sacrifice. There, he is nailed to the cross and utterly immolated.
These are the three degrees of tiredness, which correspond to the three stages of human dedication. In the first stage, one expends the energy that he knows he has. He asks for Our Lady’s help and the common assistance of grace.
In the second stage, he expends energy he scarcely thought he had and asks Our Lady with greater insistence to send special help, because he doubts that he can continue to walk with only the common assistance of grace.
In the third stage, he gives something far beyond what he thought he had. He finds a capacity for dedication and effort, beyond what he thought was possible. He advances amid total darkness, more by a miracle and absolute faith, than by any natural means.
Nevertheless, he continues to move forward. Finally, he fulfills his mission with a truly miraculous action. He is completely united with the supernatural.
The Unmistakable Beauty of Selflessness
Well then, the human soul rises from each fall, each prostration — not a moral fall but a prostration. As it rises, it gradually gives off a greater beauty: The incomparable beauty of self-denial.
To attract, man must be selfless. An egoist attracts no one; everyone is horrified by selfishness and flees from it.
To the degree that he rises after each legitimate fall, man increasingly exudes the beauty of self-denial. This increases his capacity to attract others because men loathe egoism and flee from it. Men only follow those who deny themselves. Thus, only the man who has reached this ultimate point of self-denial and given all he can is ready to attract souls.
This is why Our Lord, after having fallen three times, was ready to be shown to all peoples from the height of the Cross. [Sept. 20, 1970]
Idealism With or Without Enthusiasm
Man can face difficulties with two different states of mind.
On the one hand, he can do it enthusiastically. He sees himself on the contingency of suffering much for a high purpose and courageously resolves: “I will give!” And moves forward.
At other times, he lacks sensible enthusiasm for what he is going to do. He knows what to do and wants to do it but his sensibility is not attuned to the goal. He is weak and haggard but needs to attain that target even though his sensibility heads in the opposite direction.
Courage in pain, desolation and agony is a form of intrepidity. It is the courage of which Our Lord Jesus Christ gave us an example. [Sept. 4, 1989]
This is why I have always had a special devotion to Our Lord in the Garden because it is His life’s prototypical episode from this standpoint: He finds Himself in complete aridity and prays: Pater, si fieri potest transeat a me calix iste: If possible, turn this cup away from Me, but fiat voluntas tua, let Thy will be done. In other words, “If need be, I will go.” [April 12, 1976]
Our Lord’s entire life and Passion was like that. [April 12, 1976]
What Aridity Is
How is aridity defined? It is a complete dissociation between what we are saying to God and our sensibility. Our attention is unable to focus on our words and our senses do not feel it. [Nov. 28, 1966]
What is consolation?
It is the opposite of aridity; it is a feeling of piety, fervor, and enthusiasm.
Aridity Is Normal
One should not think that living in a state of consolation is the standard. The opposite is true. Aridity is common even for very fervent persons. Consolation is out of the ordinary.
An arid soul can find itself in truly holy conditions. The fact that a person feels aridity absolutely does not mean that he is not doing well.
Nor does it mean that he is doing well. He can be doing very badly or very well, but aridity as such is not a sign of decadence. [Jan. 14, 1964]
Politeness, Whims and Aridity
If we were to meet our whims, we would be led countless times to avoid certain people and at other times to intemperately look for others. Why?
These impulses pop up in us in an irregular, capricious and anarchic fashion. When dealing with some people, we do not feel like having due courtesy. As a result, we are forced to treat them in a way that hides from their eyes what our sensibility would want to show.
Catholic courtesy sometimes leads one to disguise. It is not a sham because one is showing what is in the depths of our soul, which is made of intellect and will. The art of disguise is precisely the origin of all protocol, etiquette and courtesy.
When hearing someone say “Nice to meet you,” no one thinks that person is feeling a sensitive pleasure in meeting us. When you say: “Very glad to see you!” only a fool could think that such feeling is always present. [Nov. 28, 1966]
One must not fall into two symmetrical extremes: Sentimental courtesy by dealing only with those for whom you have affection and doing it in a sentimental way; or treating people coldly and metallically, without feeling. [Nov. 28, 1966]
Dark Paving Slabs, Glittering Slabs
One should never disregard sentiment or enslave oneself to it. Now with it, now without it, one needs to march to heaven on a road paved with long and dark slabs of aridity and then with one or the other slab glittering with consolation.
Consolation or no consolation, aridity or not, deep down it does not matter to the soul: It walks to God in one way or another. [Nov. 28, 1966]
There are two extremes in trying to solve the problem of aridity.
One extreme is to believe that the path leading to God is made of feelings and sensations and that, therefore, mystical union is the true apex of the spiritual life. And that, on the contrary, a person in aridity has taken the wrong path and needs to flee aridity through sensationalism.
The opposite attitude is to expel feeling and sentiment from prayer and life to hold an exclusively rational worship. Those who adopt this way believe that sentiment is something effeminate, crazy, which should not be taken into consideration. Reason is the only thing that counts.
The correct position is to hold that sentiment is something precious. It must be employed whenever we can as a means to lead us to God. Too bad one cannot employ it always. But since it is fleeting, one cannot live only on its wings, for those who live on the wings of sentiment will occasionally fall as sentiment does.
We must continue to believe in that which we do not feel. We must continue to say and do what we do not feel.
Sometimes a person walks in darkness and does not understand what is happening with himself. He appears dead to himself but must do without any feeling the same he did at the height of consolation.
We must never despise feelings but never allow ourselves to be enslaved by them.
Consolation or no consolation, aridity or not, deep down it does not matter to the soul: it walks to God in one way or another. [Nov. 28, 1966]
One needs to make the tremendous sacrifice of having a sensitive soul that does not despise sentiment but knows how to live in the night of insensitivity. [Nov. 28, 1966]
St. Therese of Lisieux
Aridity in the Spiritual Life
She was very beautiful and gave the impression of a person full of happiness. Once she showed a person on her bedside table a medicine of a very beautiful color and said, “This is my life, so beautiful to look at and so bitter to swallow.”
That soul marched in the tough gallery of aridity, seemingly abandoned. Even worse, beset by temptations against the Faith. [On Sept. 3, 1983. It was St. Therese the Little Flower]
All authors on the spiritual life unanimously say that when a person begins the life of piety, he often has consolations. For example, in daily communion. After some time, consolations disappear as a golden cloud that gradually fades away, and that happens more or less through no fault of his own.
In this life, you cannot live on consolation. It would be a paradise, but it is a Vale of Tears. Consolation deepens when one remembers it and keeps it during the night of aridity. It is in the night of aridity that one assimilates the consolation received. [Feb. 1, 1973]