First Sunday in Lent,
12th March 1848
I suppose it has struck many persons as very
remarkable, that in the latter times the strictness and severity in religion of
former ages has been so much relaxed. There has been a gradual abandonment of
painful duties which were formerly inforced upon all. Time was when all
persons, to speak generally, abstained from flesh through the whole of Lent.
There have been dispensations on this point again and again, and this very year
there is a fresh one. What is the meaning of this? What are we to gather from
it? This is a question worth considering. Various answers may be given, but I
shall confine myself to one of them.
I answer that
fasting is only one branch of a large and momentous duty, the subdual of
ourselves to Christ. We must surrender to Him all we have, all we are. We must
keep nothing back. We must present to Him as captive prisoners with whom He may
do what He will, our soul and body, our reason, our judgement, our affections, our
imagination, our tastes, our appetite. The great thing is to subdue ourselves;
but as to the particular form in which the great precept of self-conquest and
self-surrender is to be expressed, that depends on the person himself, and on
the time or place. What is good for one age or person, is not good for another.
There are other
instances of the same variation. For example, devotion to the Saints is a
Catholic practice. It is founded on a clear Catholic doctrine, and the Catholic
practice has been the same from the beginning. It could not possibly change.
Yet it is certain that the prominent object of that devotion has varied at
different times, varying now in the case of individuals, one person having a
devotion to one saint, another to another; and in like manner it has varied in
the Church at large - for example, quite at first the Martyrs, as was natural,
took up this principal attention. It was natural, when their friends were dying
daily under the sword or at the stake before their eyes, to direct their
devotion in the first instance to their glorified spirits. But when a time of
external peace was granted, then the thought of the Blessed Virgin took up its
abode in the hearts of the faithful, and there was a greater devotion than
before to her. And this thought of the Blessed Virgin has grown stronger and
clearer and more influential in the minds of the Church. The devout servants of
Mary were comparatively few in the first ages, now they are many.
Again, to take
another instance, the present war with evil spirits would seem to be very
different from what it was in former ages. They attack a civilized age in a
more subtle way than they attack a rude age. We read in lives of saints and
others of the evil spirit showing himself and fighting with them face to face,
but now those subtle and experienced spirits find it is more to their purpose
not to show themselves, or at least not so much. They find it their interest to
let the idea of them die away from the minds of men, that being unrecognized,
they may do the more mischief. And they assault men in a more subtle way - not
grossly, in some broad temptation, which everyone can understand, but in some
refined way they address themselves to our pride or self-importance, or love of
money, or love of ease, or love of show, or our depraved reason, and thus have
really the dominion over persons who seem at first sight to be quite superior
to temptation.
Now apply these
illustrations to the case in point. From what has been said it follows that you
must not suppose that nothing is incumbent on us in the way of mortification,
though you have not to fast so strictly as formerly. It is reasonable to think
that some other duty of the same general kind, may take its place; and
therefore the permission granted us in eating may be a suggestion to us to be
more severe with ourselves on the other hand in certain other respects.
And this
anticipation is confirmed by the history of our Lord's temptation in the
wilderness. It began, you will observe, with an attempt on the part of the evil
one to make Him break His fast improperly. It began, but it did not end there.
It was but the first of three temptations, and the other two were more
addressed to His mind, not His bodily wants. One was to throw Himself down from
the pinnacle, the other the offer of all the kingdoms of the world. They were
more subtle temptations. Now I have used the word "subtle" already,
and it needs some explanation. By a subtle temptation or a subtle sin, I mean
one which it is very difficult to find out. Everyone knows what it is to break
the ten commandments, the first, the second, the third, and so on. When a thing
is directly commanded, and the devil tempts us directly to break it, this is
not a subtle temptation, but a broad and gross temptation. But there are a
great many things wrong which are not so obviously wrong. They are wrong as
leading to what is wrong or the consequence of what is wrong, or they are wrong
because they are the very same thing as what is forbidden, but dressed up and
looking differently. The human mind is very deceitful; when a thing is
forbidden, a man does not like directly to do it, but he goes to work if he can
to get at the forbidden end in some way. It is like a man who has to make for
some place. First he attempts to go straight to it, but finds the way blocked
up; then he goes round about it. At first you would not think he is going in
the right direction; he sets off perhaps at a right angle, but he just makes
one little bend, then another, till at length he gets to his point. Or still
more it is like a sailing vessel at sea with the wind contrary, but tacking
first this way, and then that, the mariners contrive at length to get to their
destination. This then is a subtle sin, when it at first seems not to be a sin,
but comes round to the same point as an open direct sin.
To take some
examples. If the devil tempted one to go out into the highway and rob, this
would be an open, bold temptation. But if he tempted one to do something unfair
in the course of business, which was to one's neighbour's hurt and to one's own
advantage, it would be a more subtle temptation. The man would still take what
was his neighbour's, but his conscience would not be so much shocked. So
equivocation is a more subtle sin than direct lying. In like manner a person
who does not intoxicate himself, may eat too much. Gluttony is a more subtle
sin than drunkenness, because it does not show so much. And again, sins of the
soul are more subtle sins than sins of the body. Infidelity is a more subtle
sin than licentiousness.
Even in our
Blessed Lord's case the Tempter began by addressing himself to His bodily
wants. He had fasted forty days, and afterwards was hungered. So the devil
tempted Him to eat. But when He did not consent, then he went on to more subtle
temptations. He tempted Him to spiritual pride, and he tempted Him by ambition
for power. Many a man would shrink from intemperance, {68} of being proud of
his spiritual attainments; that is, he would confess such things were wrong,
but he would not see that he was guilty of them.
Next I observe that
a civilized age is more exposed to subtle sins than a rude age. Why? For this
simple reason, because it is more fertile in excuses and evasions. It can
defend error, and hence can blind the eyes of those who have not very careful
consciences. It can make error plausible, it can make vice look like virtue. It
dignifies sin by fine names; it calls avarice proper care of one's family, or
industry, it calls pride independence, it calls ambition greatness of mind;
resentment it calls proper spirit and sense of honour, and so on.
Such is this age,
and hence our self-denial must be very different from what was necessary for a
rude age. Barbarians lately converted, or warlike multitudes, of fierce spirit
and robust power - nothing can tame them better than fasting. But we are very
different. Whether from the natural course of centuries or from our mode of
living, from the largeness of our towns or other causes, so it is that our
powers are weak and we cannot bear what our ancestors did. Then again what
numbers there are who anyhow must have dispensation, whether because their
labour is so hard, or because they never have enough, and cannot be called on
to stint themselves in Lent. These are reasons for the rule of fasting not
being so strict as once it was. And let me now say, that the rule which the
Church now gives us, though indulgent, yet is strict too. It tries a man. One
meal a day is trial to most people, even though on some days meat is allowed.
It is sufficient, with our weak frames, to be a mortification of sensuality. It
serves that end for which all fasting was instituted. On the other hand its
being so light as it is, so much lighter than it was in former times, is a
suggestion to us that there are other sins and weaknesses to mortify in us
besides gluttony and drunkenness. It is a suggestion to us, while we strive to
be pure and undefiled in our bodies, to be on our guard lest we are unclean and
sinful in our intellects, in our affections, in our wills.
When the old rude
age of the world was just ended, and an age which is called light and
civilization had begun - I mean in the 16th century - the Providence of
Almighty God raised up two saints. One came from Florence, and the other came
from Spain, and they met together in Rome. They were as unlike each other as
any two men could be, unlike in their history, in their character, in the
religious institutes, which ultimately, by God's all-directing grace they were
prospered in founding. The Spaniard had been a soldier - his history was
exciting. He had been tossed about the world, and, after his conversion he
founded a company of spiritual knights or cavaliers, as they may be called, who
were bound to a sort of military service to the Holy See. The Florentine had been
a saint from a boy, perhaps he never committed a mortal sin, and he was a
stationary, home saint. For sixty years he lived in Rome and never left it. St.
Philip Neri is the Florentine, and St. Ignatius is the Spaniard. These two
saints, so different from each other, were both great masters in their own
persons of the grace of abstinence and fasting. Their own personal asceticism
was wonderful, and yet these two great lights, though so different from each
other, and so mortified themselves, agreed in this - not to impose bodily
afflictions to any great extent on their disciples, but mortification of the
spirit, of the will, of the affections, of the tastes, of the judgement, of the
reason. They were divinely enlightened to see that the coming age, at the
beginning of which they stood, required more than anything else, not
mortification of the body (though it needed that too, of course,) but more than
it mortification of the reason and the will.
Now then I have
got at length, my Brethren, to my practical conclusion. What all of us want
more than anything else, what this age wants, is that its intellect and its
will should be under a law. At present it is lawless, its will is its own law,
its own reason is the standard of all truth. It does not bow to authority, it
does not submit to the law of faith. It is wise in its own eyes and it relies
on its own resources. And you, as living in the world, are in danger of being
seduced by it, and being a partner in its sin, and so coming in at the end for
its punishment. Now then let me in conclusion, suggest one or two points in
which you may profitably subdue your minds, which require it even more than
your bodies.
For example, in
respect to curiosity. What a deal of time is lost, to say nothing else, in this
day by curiosity, about things which in no ways concern us. I am not speaking
against interest in the news of the day altogether, for the course of the world
must ever be interesting to a Christian from its bearing upon the fortunes of
the Church, but I speak of vain curiosity, love of scandal, love of idle tales,
curious prying into the private history of people, curiosity about trials and
offences, and personal matters, nay often what is much worse than this,
curiosity into sin. What strange diseased curiosity is sometimes felt about the
history of murders, and of the malefactors themselves! Worse still, it is
shocking to say, but there is so much evil curiosity to know about deeds of
darkness, of which the Apostle says that it is shameful to speak. Many a
person, who has no intention of doing the like, from an evil curiosity reads
what he ought not to read. This is in one shape or other very much the sin of
boys, and they suffer for it. The knowledge of what is evil is the first step
in their case to the commission of it. Hence this is the way in which we are
called upon, with this Lent we now begin, to mortify ourselves. Let us mortify
our curiosity.
Again, the desire
of knowledge is in itself praiseworthy, but it may be excessive, it may take us
from higher things, it may take up too much of our time - it is a vanity. The
Preacher makes the distinction between profitable and unprofitable learning
when he says, "The words of the wise are like goads and nails." They
excite and stimulate us and are fixed in our memories. "But further than this,
my son, inquire not. Of making many books there is no end, and much study"
(that is, poring over secular subjects,) "is affliction of the flesh. Let
us one and all have an end of the discourse: fear God and keep His
commandments, for this is the whole of man." Knowledge is very well in its
place, but it is like flowers without fruit. We cannot feed on knowledge, we
cannot thrive on knowledge. Just as the leaves of the grove are very beautiful
but would make a bad meal, so we shall ever be hungry and never be satisfied if
we think to take knowledge for our food. Knowledge is no food. Religion is our
only food. Here then is another mortification. Mortify your desire of
knowledge. Do not go into excess in seeking after truths which are not
religious.
Again, mortify
your reason. In order to try you, God puts before you things which are
difficult to believe. St. Thomas's faith was tried; so is yours. He said
"My Lord and My God." You say so too. Bring your proud intellect into
subjection. Believe what you cannot see, what you cannot understand, what you
cannot explain, what you cannot prove, when God says it.
Lastly, bring
your will into subjection. We all like our own will - let us consult the will
of others. Numbers of persons are obliged to do this. Servants are obliged to
do the will of their masters, workmen of their employers, children of their
parents, husbands of their wives. Well, in these cases let your will go with
that of those who have a right to command you. Don't rebel against it. Sanctify
what is after all a necessary act. Make it in a certain sense your own,
sanctify it, and get merit from it. And again when you are your own master, be
on your guard against going too much by your own opinion. Take some wise
counsellor or director, and obey him. There are persons who cry out against
such obedience, and call it a number of bad names. They are the very persons
who need it. It would do them much good. They say that men are made mere
machines, and lose the dignity of human nature by going by the word of another.
And I should like to know what they become by going by their own will. I appeal
to any candid person and ask whether he would not confess that on the whole the
world would be much happier, that individuals would be much happier, if they
had not a will of their own. For one person who has been hurt by following the
direction of another, a hundred persons have been ruined by going by their own
will. This is another subject. But this is enough. May almighty God enable you,
etc.
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