St Francis of Sales: Introduction to the Devout Life
His ardent love of God, and his rare wisdom made St Francis of Sales exceptionally effective in guiding souls; his books left deep influence on the spirituality of our times. In his pastoral work as bishop of Geneva, he brought back to the true faith more than 70,000 heretics. He died at Lyons (France) in 1622.
About Exterior Humility [Part 3, n. 4]
“Borrow jars from all your neighbors, empty jars, and not a few,” Elisha said to the poor widow, “and pour oil into all these jars” (2 Kings 4:3-4). To receive the grace of God, our heart must be emptied of vainglory.
Humility drives back Satan, and preserves the graces and gifts of the Holy Spirit within us. All the saints, and particularly the King of Saints and his Mother, have always esteemed and cherished this blessed virtue more than any other moral virtue.
We call vainglory the honor we assume for:
(a) what is not in us,
(b) what is in us but is not ours,
(c) or what is in us and is ours but does not deserve such glory.
The nobility of our ancestors, the approval from important people, and popular respect are things that are not in us. They are in our ancestors or in the esteem of other men.
Some men become proud and insolent because they ride a fine horse, carry a feather in their hat, or wear elegant clothes. How foolish! If there is any glory in these things, the glory belongs to the horse, to the bird, or to the tailor. What meanness of heart is there in stealing honor from a horse, from a feather, or from some passing fashion.
Some men value and pride themselves for having a well-trimmed beard, a well-cut hairdo, or soft hands, or because they can sing, dance or play. They are shallow men who seek to increase their worth and reputation with such frivolous and silly things.
Others, with a little learning, seek to be honored and respected by the whole world, as if everyone should learn from them and have them as their master. They are called pedants.
Some even presume they are handsome; they strut around like peacocks thinking that everyone admires them. All this is extremely vain, offensive, and foolish; the glory raised on such foundations is likewise vain, foolish and frivolous.
Do you want to know if a man is really wise, learned, generous or noble? Observe if his talents tend to make him humble, modest, and submissive. If he tends to brag, his talents will be less true in the same proportion as they appear evident.
Men’s virtues and good qualities born from and nourished by pride, ostentation, and vanity have merely the appearance of good. They are without juice, without marrow, and without substance.
Honor, reputation, and dignity are like saffron, which thrives when trodden underfoot. It is not honorable to be handsome and to boast of it. Beauty, if it is to have a good grace, should be overlooked; and learning is a disgrace if it puffs us up and degenerates into pedantry. If we are punctilious about places, precedence, and titles, we shall be exposing our qualities to be examined, tried, and contradicted; we shall render them contemptible.
Honor is beautiful when freely given; it is vile when exacted, sought after, and requested. When the peacock spreads its tail to admire itself, in the act of raising up its beautiful feathers, ruffles all the rest and displays its own ugliness. Flowers that are fair while growing in the earth, whither and fade when handled.
The pursuit and love of virtue make us virtuous; the pursuit and love of honor make us contemptible and blameworthy. Generous minds do not amuse themselves with the tawdry toys of rank, honor, and reputation. They have other things to care for. Such belongs only to degenerate spirits. Whoever has pearls never bothers himself with common shells; those who aspire to sanctity do not trouble themselves with honors.
Everyone should take and keep his place in society without prejudice to humility, but it should be done without noise. Those who come from Peru bring silver and gold, and also parrots and monkeys that do not cost much and are not burdensome. So those who fight for sanctity should not refuse the honor and reputation due to them, provided they do not devote all their attention to this task or cause them anxiety, conflict, and friction. I am not referring to those whose reputation has a bearing on society, or to some extraordinary cases. In these, everyone should keep his reputation with prudence and discretion, with charity and good manners.
Deeper Inward Humility [n. 5]
You want me, Philothea, to lead you still deeper into humility. To do what I have said above is human wisdom, rather than humility.
Listen. Many do not want—or do not dare—to consider the graces God has given them. They think this will excite their vainglory and self complacency. They deceive themselves.
St Thomas of Aquinas states that the means to attain the love of God is the consideration of his benefits. The more we acknowledge them, the more we love God. We should especially pay attention to the benefits that are not frequently found in any person.
Nothing humbles us so effectively before God’s mercy as the consideration of his benefits; nothing humbles us before his justice as the enormity of our offenses. Let us consider what he has done for us and what we have done against him. As we reflect on our sins, let us consider his graces also.
We should fear that the awareness of God’s gifts will make us proud; it will not happen if we keep in mind this truth: Whatever good is in us does not come from ourselves. Do mules stop being vulgar brutes simply because they are laden with the treasures and perfumes of the prince? What good have we that we not received? And if we have received it, why should we glory in it?
The consideration of God’s gifts makes us humble because it generates gratitude. If this consideration leads us to vanity, we should reflect then on our lack of correspondence to God’s grace, our defects, and our miseries.
If we consider what we did when God was not with us, we will easily realize that what we do when he is with us is not our own exertion. We shall appreciate and enjoy God’s gifts, because we possess them; but we shall give glory to God because he is the author. Thus, the Blessed Virgin confesses that God has done great things for her, but this leads her to humble herself and glorify God: “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, because he has done great things for me” (Lk 1:47.49).
We often say that we are nothing, that we are misery itself and the refuse of the world. But we become very upset if anyone take us seriously or tells others that we really are such miserable wretches as we declare. We pretend to go away and hide, so that the world may run after us and seek us out. We pretend we wish to be considered the last of all, and to sit down at the lowest end of the table, but it is to pass more easily to the first place.
True humility does not put up a show, or use humble words; it keeps other virtues on a low profile, and goes itself unnoticed.
My advice, Philothea, is that we should not use words of humility, or else use them with sincerity of heart, meaning them interiorly. We should never cast down our eyes, except when we humble our hearts. We should never ask to be at the lowest place, unless we really desire it. I do not admit any exception to this rule.
I would only add this: Good manners require us to offer precedence to someone who will surely refuse it. This is not duplicity or false humility. The precedence is only the beginning of a tribute we cannot give entirely. The same rule applies to some polite words of esteem or respect, which may not be strictly due.
A humble person prefers that someone tells him he is nothing, miserable, and accomplishes nothing, rather than saying it of himself. If he knows that someone has this opinion of him, he does not contradict it, but heartily agrees with it. A humble man accepts this opinion; he is satisfied that others share his own judgment.
Many say that they leave mental prayer for the perfect; they deem themselves unworthy of doing it. Others declare that they do not take Holy Communion often because they are not sufficiently pure. Or that they would cause scandal if they take it. Some refuse to apply their talents in the service of God and neighbor; they know their own weakness and are afraid of being proud if they become instruments of any good; and that in giving light to others, they may become darkness. All this is nothing but a ruse, a false and malicious sort of humility. Under the pretext of humility, they subtly find fault in the things of God, shun responsibility, conceal the attachment to their own opinion and their love of comfort.
“Ask Yahweh your God for a sign for yourself coming either from the depths of hell or from the heights above,” said Isaiah to the unhappy Ahaz, and the king answered, “I will not ask, and I will not tempt the Lord” (Is 7:11.12). The wicked king pretended to have an extreme reverence for God; he excused himself—under the cover of humility—from accepting that grace which the divine goodness offered him. Didn’t he see that when God wants to give us his grace, it is pride to refuse it? We are obliged to receive God’s gifts; humility is to obey and comply the best we can with God’s desires.
God’s desire is that we should be perfect, uniting ourselves to him and imitating him as much as possible. The proud man, who trusts in himself, has always a reason not to attempt anything. The more humble a person is, the more courageous, the more responsible, and the more he acknowledges his own inability. The more wretched he esteems himself, the more confident he becomes, because he places his whole trust in God. And God likes to display his power in our weakness and to lift his compassion over our misery. We should then humbly and devoutly conclude we can tackle everything assigned to us by those directing our souls.
To think that we know what we do not know is complete folly. To desire to pass as knowing what we are well aware we don’t know is inexcusable vanity. For my part, just as I would not parade knowledge even of what I actually know, so contrariwise I would not pretend to be ignorant of it.
When charity requires it, we must candidly and gladly share with our neighbor not only what is necessary for his instruction but also what is useful for his consolation.
Humility conceals and covers over virtues to preserve them, but it reveals them when charity so requires to enlarge, increase, and perfect them. In this respect humility imitates a certain tree found on the island of Tylos. At night it contracts and closes up its beautiful blossoms and only opens them again in the morning sun. The natives of the country say that the tree sleeps at night.
In like manner humility covers over and hides all our purely human virtues and perfections and never displays them except for the sake of charity. Charity is not a natural but a supernatural virtue; and not a moral but a theological virtue. Charity is the true sun of all the virtues and should have dominion over them. Thus, acts of humility that are against charity are certainly false.
I don’t want to play either the fool or the wise man; if humility forbids me to play the sage, candor and sincerity forbid me to act the fool. As vanity is opposed to humility, so intrigue, affectation, and dissimulation are contrary to honesty and sincerity.
Some saints have pretended to be fools in order to be more abject in the eyes of the world; we must admire but not imitate them. The had their motives to act in this unusual manner. Their motives were so special and extraordinary that no one should draw conclusions for himself.
David danced and leaped with all his might before the Ark of the Covenant (2 Sam 6:14-22). He did not wish to act foolishly. With all simplicity and without any affectation, he danced to express the extraordinary joy he felt within his heart. It is true that when Michol, his wife, reproached him for it as a foolish act, he was not sorry to see himself criticized. Continuing in a natural and genuine manifestation of joy, he testified that he was glad to be criticized for the sake of God. Thus, I tell you, don’t mind people thinking you are abject or foolish because of true, genuine manifestations of piety. Be humble and rejoice at such fortunate criticism; its cause is not in you but in those who make it.
Humility Causes Us to Love Our Own Wretchedness [n. 6]
I now move on to tell you, Philothea, that in all things you should love your own wretchedness. When our Lady says in her sacred canticle that because our Lord “has regarded the humility of his handmaid all generations shall call her blessed” (Lk 1:48), she means that our Lord has graciously looked down on her abjection, and lowliness in order to heap graces and favors upon her. A person is abject when he is pushed into the corner, shorn of one’s glory, miserable.
There is a difference between the virtue of humility and wretchedness. Wretchedness–that is, abjection, lowliness, dishonor, and baseness—is in us although we may not be aware of the fact; humility is true knowledge and voluntary acceptance of our wretchedness. The humble person not only willingly admits his wretched state, but loves it and delights in it. This must not be because of lack of courage and generosity but in order to exalt God’s Majesty all the more and to hold one’s neighbor in higher esteem than oneself. I urge you to do this.
Among the evils we suffer from, some are wretched and others are honorable. Many men can easily adapt themselves to evils that bring honor with them but hardly anyone can do so to those which bring dishonor. You see a devout old hermit covered with rags and shivering with cold. Everyone honors his tattered habit and sympathizes with his sufferings. If a poor gentleman, or a poor gentlewoman is in the same condition people laugh and scoff at them. Thus you see that their poverty is wretched poverty.
A monk meekly receives a sharp rebuke from his superior or a child from his father, and everyone calls it an instance of mortification, obedience, and wisdom. If a lord or lady suffers the same thing from someone, even though it is accepted out of love of God, it is called cowardice and lack of spirit; this is another wretched suffering.
One man has a cancer in his arm and another on his face; the first has only a disease, while the other suffers contempt, disgrace, and wretchedness along with the disease. I tell you, we must not only love the disease—this is the virtue of patience—but also embrace the shame and wretchedness—this is the virtue of humility.
Moreover, there are virtues which are wretched and virtues which are honorable. Patience, meekness, simplicity, and even humility itself are virtues that worldly people consider mean and wretched. On the other hand, they hold prudence, courage, and liberality in the highest esteem.
There are also acts of one and the same virtue, some of which are despised and others held in honor. To give alms and to forgive injuries are both charitable acts, yet the first is held in honor by everyone while the second is despised in the eyes of the world.
A young gentlemen, or a young lady, who refuses to take part in the dissipated conduct of a debauched group, or to talk, play, dance, drink, or dress like the rest will be scorned and criticized by the others; their modesty will be called fanaticism or prudery. To love this criticism is to love our own wretchedness.
Take wretchedness of another kind. If I am sent to the most miserable and materially wretched among the sick, I gain honor in the eyes of the world; for that reason I may love the assignment. If I am sent to persons of quality, it is spiritual wretchedness for there is not so much virtue or merit in this other assignment; I should love this humble wretchedness. We may fall down in the public street and, in addition to the fall, incur shame. We must love such wretchedness.
We may be involved in some faults related to lack of good manners that entail no other ill except shame and wretchedness. Humility does not require that we should deliberately commit such faults, but we should not worry once we have committed them. Among them are certain kinds of mistakes, incivility, and inadvertency that we should avoid out of regard for good manners and discretion. But if they have been committed, we should endure the dishonor they entail and willingly accept it to practice humility.
If in passion or anger we have spoken any unbecoming words offending God or our neighbor, we should sincerely repent, be sorry for the offense, and make the best reparation we can. At the same time, we should accept the wretchedness and ridicule it has brought upon us. If one could be separated from the other, we should gladly cast away the sin and humbly keep the wretchedness.
Although we love the wretchedness that follows a disgrace, we must correct by just and lawful means the evil that caused it, especially when it is serious. If anyone has some disagreeable infection in his face, he should have it cured, although not merely to remove the wretchedness he suffered.
If through inadvertence or indiscretion one has offended or scandalized another, he should correct the offense by some true explanation; the scandal being present, charity requires him to remove it.
Moreover, charity sometimes requires us to remove the wretchedness for the good of a neighbor before whom we should preserve our good name. In such cases, although we remove the wretchedness from our neighbor’s sight to prevent scandal, yet we must enclose this shame in our heart for our own growth in sanctity.
If you wish to know which are the best kind of humiliations and wretchedness, Philothea, I tell you plainly, those which come to us accidentally or because of our state in life. These are the most profitable to our souls and most acceptable to God. We were not seeking them, but have accepted them as sent by God; his choice is always better than our own.
If we were to choose any form of humiliation, we should prefer the greatest; those most contrary to our inclinations, as long as they are in keeping with our vocation. To say it once and for all, our own choice and selection spoil and lessen almost all our virtues. Who will say with the greatest king, “I have chosen to be lowly in the house of the Lord, rather than to dwell in the tents of sinners”? (Ps 83:11). No one can say this, Philothea, except our Lord. To exalt us, he suffered and died becoming “the reproach of men and the outcast of the people” (Ps 21:7).
Many of the things I have told you may seem hard when you reflect on them, but believe me, they will be sweeter than sugar or honey when you put them to practice.
About Exterior Humility [Part 3, n. 4]
“Borrow jars from all your neighbors, empty jars, and not a few,” Elisha said to the poor widow, “and pour oil into all these jars” (2 Kings 4:3-4). To receive the grace of God, our heart must be emptied of vainglory.
Humility drives back Satan, and preserves the graces and gifts of the Holy Spirit within us. All the saints, and particularly the King of Saints and his Mother, have always esteemed and cherished this blessed virtue more than any other moral virtue.
We call vainglory the honor we assume for:
(a) what is not in us,
(b) what is in us but is not ours,
(c) or what is in us and is ours but does not deserve such glory.
The nobility of our ancestors, the approval from important people, and popular respect are things that are not in us. They are in our ancestors or in the esteem of other men.
Some men become proud and insolent because they ride a fine horse, carry a feather in their hat, or wear elegant clothes. How foolish! If there is any glory in these things, the glory belongs to the horse, to the bird, or to the tailor. What meanness of heart is there in stealing honor from a horse, from a feather, or from some passing fashion.
Some men value and pride themselves for having a well-trimmed beard, a well-cut hairdo, or soft hands, or because they can sing, dance or play. They are shallow men who seek to increase their worth and reputation with such frivolous and silly things.
Others, with a little learning, seek to be honored and respected by the whole world, as if everyone should learn from them and have them as their master. They are called pedants.
Some even presume they are handsome; they strut around like peacocks thinking that everyone admires them. All this is extremely vain, offensive, and foolish; the glory raised on such foundations is likewise vain, foolish and frivolous.
Do you want to know if a man is really wise, learned, generous or noble? Observe if his talents tend to make him humble, modest, and submissive. If he tends to brag, his talents will be less true in the same proportion as they appear evident.
Men’s virtues and good qualities born from and nourished by pride, ostentation, and vanity have merely the appearance of good. They are without juice, without marrow, and without substance.
Honor, reputation, and dignity are like saffron, which thrives when trodden underfoot. It is not honorable to be handsome and to boast of it. Beauty, if it is to have a good grace, should be overlooked; and learning is a disgrace if it puffs us up and degenerates into pedantry. If we are punctilious about places, precedence, and titles, we shall be exposing our qualities to be examined, tried, and contradicted; we shall render them contemptible.
Honor is beautiful when freely given; it is vile when exacted, sought after, and requested. When the peacock spreads its tail to admire itself, in the act of raising up its beautiful feathers, ruffles all the rest and displays its own ugliness. Flowers that are fair while growing in the earth, whither and fade when handled.
The pursuit and love of virtue make us virtuous; the pursuit and love of honor make us contemptible and blameworthy. Generous minds do not amuse themselves with the tawdry toys of rank, honor, and reputation. They have other things to care for. Such belongs only to degenerate spirits. Whoever has pearls never bothers himself with common shells; those who aspire to sanctity do not trouble themselves with honors.
Everyone should take and keep his place in society without prejudice to humility, but it should be done without noise. Those who come from Peru bring silver and gold, and also parrots and monkeys that do not cost much and are not burdensome. So those who fight for sanctity should not refuse the honor and reputation due to them, provided they do not devote all their attention to this task or cause them anxiety, conflict, and friction. I am not referring to those whose reputation has a bearing on society, or to some extraordinary cases. In these, everyone should keep his reputation with prudence and discretion, with charity and good manners.
Deeper Inward Humility [n. 5]
You want me, Philothea, to lead you still deeper into humility. To do what I have said above is human wisdom, rather than humility.
Listen. Many do not want—or do not dare—to consider the graces God has given them. They think this will excite their vainglory and self complacency. They deceive themselves.
St Thomas of Aquinas states that the means to attain the love of God is the consideration of his benefits. The more we acknowledge them, the more we love God. We should especially pay attention to the benefits that are not frequently found in any person.
Nothing humbles us so effectively before God’s mercy as the consideration of his benefits; nothing humbles us before his justice as the enormity of our offenses. Let us consider what he has done for us and what we have done against him. As we reflect on our sins, let us consider his graces also.
We should fear that the awareness of God’s gifts will make us proud; it will not happen if we keep in mind this truth: Whatever good is in us does not come from ourselves. Do mules stop being vulgar brutes simply because they are laden with the treasures and perfumes of the prince? What good have we that we not received? And if we have received it, why should we glory in it?
The consideration of God’s gifts makes us humble because it generates gratitude. If this consideration leads us to vanity, we should reflect then on our lack of correspondence to God’s grace, our defects, and our miseries.
If we consider what we did when God was not with us, we will easily realize that what we do when he is with us is not our own exertion. We shall appreciate and enjoy God’s gifts, because we possess them; but we shall give glory to God because he is the author. Thus, the Blessed Virgin confesses that God has done great things for her, but this leads her to humble herself and glorify God: “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, because he has done great things for me” (Lk 1:47.49).
We often say that we are nothing, that we are misery itself and the refuse of the world. But we become very upset if anyone take us seriously or tells others that we really are such miserable wretches as we declare. We pretend to go away and hide, so that the world may run after us and seek us out. We pretend we wish to be considered the last of all, and to sit down at the lowest end of the table, but it is to pass more easily to the first place.
True humility does not put up a show, or use humble words; it keeps other virtues on a low profile, and goes itself unnoticed.
My advice, Philothea, is that we should not use words of humility, or else use them with sincerity of heart, meaning them interiorly. We should never cast down our eyes, except when we humble our hearts. We should never ask to be at the lowest place, unless we really desire it. I do not admit any exception to this rule.
I would only add this: Good manners require us to offer precedence to someone who will surely refuse it. This is not duplicity or false humility. The precedence is only the beginning of a tribute we cannot give entirely. The same rule applies to some polite words of esteem or respect, which may not be strictly due.
A humble person prefers that someone tells him he is nothing, miserable, and accomplishes nothing, rather than saying it of himself. If he knows that someone has this opinion of him, he does not contradict it, but heartily agrees with it. A humble man accepts this opinion; he is satisfied that others share his own judgment.
Many say that they leave mental prayer for the perfect; they deem themselves unworthy of doing it. Others declare that they do not take Holy Communion often because they are not sufficiently pure. Or that they would cause scandal if they take it. Some refuse to apply their talents in the service of God and neighbor; they know their own weakness and are afraid of being proud if they become instruments of any good; and that in giving light to others, they may become darkness. All this is nothing but a ruse, a false and malicious sort of humility. Under the pretext of humility, they subtly find fault in the things of God, shun responsibility, conceal the attachment to their own opinion and their love of comfort.
“Ask Yahweh your God for a sign for yourself coming either from the depths of hell or from the heights above,” said Isaiah to the unhappy Ahaz, and the king answered, “I will not ask, and I will not tempt the Lord” (Is 7:11.12). The wicked king pretended to have an extreme reverence for God; he excused himself—under the cover of humility—from accepting that grace which the divine goodness offered him. Didn’t he see that when God wants to give us his grace, it is pride to refuse it? We are obliged to receive God’s gifts; humility is to obey and comply the best we can with God’s desires.
God’s desire is that we should be perfect, uniting ourselves to him and imitating him as much as possible. The proud man, who trusts in himself, has always a reason not to attempt anything. The more humble a person is, the more courageous, the more responsible, and the more he acknowledges his own inability. The more wretched he esteems himself, the more confident he becomes, because he places his whole trust in God. And God likes to display his power in our weakness and to lift his compassion over our misery. We should then humbly and devoutly conclude we can tackle everything assigned to us by those directing our souls.
To think that we know what we do not know is complete folly. To desire to pass as knowing what we are well aware we don’t know is inexcusable vanity. For my part, just as I would not parade knowledge even of what I actually know, so contrariwise I would not pretend to be ignorant of it.
When charity requires it, we must candidly and gladly share with our neighbor not only what is necessary for his instruction but also what is useful for his consolation.
Humility conceals and covers over virtues to preserve them, but it reveals them when charity so requires to enlarge, increase, and perfect them. In this respect humility imitates a certain tree found on the island of Tylos. At night it contracts and closes up its beautiful blossoms and only opens them again in the morning sun. The natives of the country say that the tree sleeps at night.
In like manner humility covers over and hides all our purely human virtues and perfections and never displays them except for the sake of charity. Charity is not a natural but a supernatural virtue; and not a moral but a theological virtue. Charity is the true sun of all the virtues and should have dominion over them. Thus, acts of humility that are against charity are certainly false.
I don’t want to play either the fool or the wise man; if humility forbids me to play the sage, candor and sincerity forbid me to act the fool. As vanity is opposed to humility, so intrigue, affectation, and dissimulation are contrary to honesty and sincerity.
Some saints have pretended to be fools in order to be more abject in the eyes of the world; we must admire but not imitate them. The had their motives to act in this unusual manner. Their motives were so special and extraordinary that no one should draw conclusions for himself.
David danced and leaped with all his might before the Ark of the Covenant (2 Sam 6:14-22). He did not wish to act foolishly. With all simplicity and without any affectation, he danced to express the extraordinary joy he felt within his heart. It is true that when Michol, his wife, reproached him for it as a foolish act, he was not sorry to see himself criticized. Continuing in a natural and genuine manifestation of joy, he testified that he was glad to be criticized for the sake of God. Thus, I tell you, don’t mind people thinking you are abject or foolish because of true, genuine manifestations of piety. Be humble and rejoice at such fortunate criticism; its cause is not in you but in those who make it.
Humility Causes Us to Love Our Own Wretchedness [n. 6]
I now move on to tell you, Philothea, that in all things you should love your own wretchedness. When our Lady says in her sacred canticle that because our Lord “has regarded the humility of his handmaid all generations shall call her blessed” (Lk 1:48), she means that our Lord has graciously looked down on her abjection, and lowliness in order to heap graces and favors upon her. A person is abject when he is pushed into the corner, shorn of one’s glory, miserable.
There is a difference between the virtue of humility and wretchedness. Wretchedness–that is, abjection, lowliness, dishonor, and baseness—is in us although we may not be aware of the fact; humility is true knowledge and voluntary acceptance of our wretchedness. The humble person not only willingly admits his wretched state, but loves it and delights in it. This must not be because of lack of courage and generosity but in order to exalt God’s Majesty all the more and to hold one’s neighbor in higher esteem than oneself. I urge you to do this.
Among the evils we suffer from, some are wretched and others are honorable. Many men can easily adapt themselves to evils that bring honor with them but hardly anyone can do so to those which bring dishonor. You see a devout old hermit covered with rags and shivering with cold. Everyone honors his tattered habit and sympathizes with his sufferings. If a poor gentleman, or a poor gentlewoman is in the same condition people laugh and scoff at them. Thus you see that their poverty is wretched poverty.
A monk meekly receives a sharp rebuke from his superior or a child from his father, and everyone calls it an instance of mortification, obedience, and wisdom. If a lord or lady suffers the same thing from someone, even though it is accepted out of love of God, it is called cowardice and lack of spirit; this is another wretched suffering.
One man has a cancer in his arm and another on his face; the first has only a disease, while the other suffers contempt, disgrace, and wretchedness along with the disease. I tell you, we must not only love the disease—this is the virtue of patience—but also embrace the shame and wretchedness—this is the virtue of humility.
Moreover, there are virtues which are wretched and virtues which are honorable. Patience, meekness, simplicity, and even humility itself are virtues that worldly people consider mean and wretched. On the other hand, they hold prudence, courage, and liberality in the highest esteem.
There are also acts of one and the same virtue, some of which are despised and others held in honor. To give alms and to forgive injuries are both charitable acts, yet the first is held in honor by everyone while the second is despised in the eyes of the world.
A young gentlemen, or a young lady, who refuses to take part in the dissipated conduct of a debauched group, or to talk, play, dance, drink, or dress like the rest will be scorned and criticized by the others; their modesty will be called fanaticism or prudery. To love this criticism is to love our own wretchedness.
Take wretchedness of another kind. If I am sent to the most miserable and materially wretched among the sick, I gain honor in the eyes of the world; for that reason I may love the assignment. If I am sent to persons of quality, it is spiritual wretchedness for there is not so much virtue or merit in this other assignment; I should love this humble wretchedness. We may fall down in the public street and, in addition to the fall, incur shame. We must love such wretchedness.
We may be involved in some faults related to lack of good manners that entail no other ill except shame and wretchedness. Humility does not require that we should deliberately commit such faults, but we should not worry once we have committed them. Among them are certain kinds of mistakes, incivility, and inadvertency that we should avoid out of regard for good manners and discretion. But if they have been committed, we should endure the dishonor they entail and willingly accept it to practice humility.
If in passion or anger we have spoken any unbecoming words offending God or our neighbor, we should sincerely repent, be sorry for the offense, and make the best reparation we can. At the same time, we should accept the wretchedness and ridicule it has brought upon us. If one could be separated from the other, we should gladly cast away the sin and humbly keep the wretchedness.
Although we love the wretchedness that follows a disgrace, we must correct by just and lawful means the evil that caused it, especially when it is serious. If anyone has some disagreeable infection in his face, he should have it cured, although not merely to remove the wretchedness he suffered.
If through inadvertence or indiscretion one has offended or scandalized another, he should correct the offense by some true explanation; the scandal being present, charity requires him to remove it.
Moreover, charity sometimes requires us to remove the wretchedness for the good of a neighbor before whom we should preserve our good name. In such cases, although we remove the wretchedness from our neighbor’s sight to prevent scandal, yet we must enclose this shame in our heart for our own growth in sanctity.
If you wish to know which are the best kind of humiliations and wretchedness, Philothea, I tell you plainly, those which come to us accidentally or because of our state in life. These are the most profitable to our souls and most acceptable to God. We were not seeking them, but have accepted them as sent by God; his choice is always better than our own.
If we were to choose any form of humiliation, we should prefer the greatest; those most contrary to our inclinations, as long as they are in keeping with our vocation. To say it once and for all, our own choice and selection spoil and lessen almost all our virtues. Who will say with the greatest king, “I have chosen to be lowly in the house of the Lord, rather than to dwell in the tents of sinners”? (Ps 83:11). No one can say this, Philothea, except our Lord. To exalt us, he suffered and died becoming “the reproach of men and the outcast of the people” (Ps 21:7).
Many of the things I have told you may seem hard when you reflect on them, but believe me, they will be sweeter than sugar or honey when you put them to practice.