242
THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
I spare you the recital of poor Suso’s self-inflicted tortures from
thirst. It is pleasant to know that after his fortieth year, God showed
him by a series of visions that he had sufficiently broken down the
natural man, and that he might leave these exercises off. His case
is distinctly pathological, but he does not seem to have had the
alleviation, which some ascetics have enjoyed, of an alteration of
sensibility capable of actually turning torment into a perverse kind
of pleasure. Of the founder of the Sacred Heart order, for example,
we read that
“Her love of pain and suffering was insatiable. . . . She said that she
could cheerfully live till the day of judgment, provided she might always
have matter for suffering for God; but that to live a single day without
suffering would be intolerable. She said again that she was devoured with
two unassuageable fevers, one for the holy communion, the other for
suffering, humiliation, and annihilation. ‘Nothing but pain,’ she continu-
ally said in her letters, ‘makes my life supportable.’ ”
1
So much for the phenomena to which the ascetic impulse will in
certain persons give rise. In the ecclesiastically consecrated charac-
ter three minor branches of self-mortification have been recognized
as indispensable pathways to perfection. I refer to the chastity,
obedience, and poverty which the monk vows to observe; and upon
the heads of obedience and poverty I will make a few remarks.
First, of Obedience. The secular life of our twentieth century
opens with this virtue held in no high esteem. The duty of the
individual to determine his own conduct and profit or suffer by the
consequences seems, on the contrary, to be one of our best rooted
contemporary Protestant social ideals. So much so that it is difficult
even imaginatively to comprehend how men possessed of an inner
life of their own could ever have come to think the subjection of
its will to that of other finite creatures recommendable. I confess
that to myself it seems something of a mystery. Yet it evidently
corresponds to a profound interior need of many persons, and we
must do our best to understand it.
On the lowest possible plane, one sees how the expediency of
obedience in a firm ecclesiastical organization must have led to its
1
B
OUGAUD
: Hist. de la bienheureuse Marguerite Marie, Paris, 1894, pp. 265, 171. Com-
pare, also, pp. 386, 387.
SAINTLINESS
243
being viewed as meritorious. Next, experience shows that there are
times in every one’s life when one can be better counseled by
others than by one’s self. Inability to decide is one of the common-
est symptoms of fatigued nerves; friends who see our troubles more
broadly, often see them more wisely than we do; so it is frequently
an act of excellent virtue to consult and obey a doctor, a partner,
or a wife. But, leaving these lower prudential regions, we find, in
the nature of some of the spiritual excitements which we have been
studying, good reasons for idealizing obedience. Obedience may
spring from the general religious phenomenon of inner softening
and self-surrender and throwing one’s self on higher powers. So
saving are these attitudes felt to be that in themselves, apart from
utility, they become ideally consecrated; and in obeying a man whose
fallibility we see through thoroughly, we, nevertheless, may feel
much as we do when we resign our will to that of infinite wisdom.
Add self-despair and the passion of self-crucifixion to this, and
obedience becomes an ascetic sacrifice, agreeable quite irrespective
of whatever prudential uses it might have.
It is as a sacrifice, a mode of “mortification,” that obedience is
primarily conceived by Catholic writers, a “sacrifice which man
offers to God, and of which he is himself both the priest and
the victim. By poverty he immolates his exterior possessions; by
chastity he immolates his body; by obedience he completes the
sacrifice, and gives to God all that he yet holds as his own, his
two most precious goods, his intellect and his will. The sacrifice is
then complete and unreserved, a genuine holocaust, for the entire
victim is now consumed for the honor of God.”
1
Accordingly, in
Catholic discipline, we obey our superior not as mere man, but as
the representative of Christ. Obeying God in him by our intention,
obedience is easy. But when the text-book theologians marshal
collectively all their reasons for recommending it, the mixture
sounds to our ears rather odd.
“One of the great consolations of the monastic life,” says a Jesuit author-
ity, “is the assurance we have that in obeying we can commit no fault.
The Superior may commit a fault in commanding you to do this thing or
that, but you are certain that you commit no fault so long as you obey,
1
L
EJEUNE
: Introduction à la Vie Mystique, 1899, p. 277. The holocaust simile goes back at
least as far as Ignatius Loyola.
244
THE VARIETIES OF RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE
because God will only ask you if you have duly performed what orders you
received, and if you can furnish a clear account in that respect, you are
absolved entirely. Whether the things you did were opportune, or whether
there were not something better that might have been done, these are ques-
tions not asked of you, but rather of your Superior. The moment what you
did was done obediently, God wipes it out of your account, and charges
it to the Superior. So that Saint Jerome well exclaimed, in celebrating
the advantages of obedience, ‘Oh, sovereign liberty! Oh, holy and blessed
security by which one becomes almost impeccable!’
“Saint John Climachus is of the same sentiment when he calls obedience
an excuse before God. In fact, when God asks why you have done this
or that, and you reply, it is because I was so ordered by my Superiors, God
will ask for no other excuse. As a passenger in a good vessel with a good
pilot need give himself no farther concern, but may go to sleep in peace,
because the pilot has charge over all, and ‘watches for him’; so a religious
person who lives under the yoke of obedience goes to heaven as if while
sleeping, that is, while leaning entirely on the conduct of his Superiors,
who are the pilots of his vessel, and keep watch for him continually. It is
no small thing, of a truth, to be able to cross the stormy sea of life on the
shoulders and in the arms of another, yet that is just the grace which God
accords to those who live under the yoke of obedience. Their Superior
bears all their burdens. . . . A certain grave doctor said that he would
rather spend his life in picking up straws by obedience, than by his own
responsible choice busy himself with the loftiest works of charity, because
one is certain of following the will of God in whatever one may do from
obedience, but never certain in the same degree of anything which we
may do of our own proper movement.”
1
One should read the letters in which Ignatius Loyola recom-
mends obedience as the backbone of his order, if one would gain
insight into the full spirit of its cult.
2
They are too long to quote;
but Ignatius’s belief is so vividly expressed in a couple of sayings
reported by companions that, though they have been so often cited,
I will ask your permission to copy them once more: —
“I ought,” an early biographer reports him as saying, “on entering religion,
and thereafter, to place myself entirely in the hands of God, and of him
who takes His place by His authority. I ought to desire that my Superior
should oblige me to give up my own judgment, and conquer my own mind.
1
A
LFONSO
R
ODRIGUEZ
, S. J.: Pratique de la Perfection Chrétienne, Part iii., Treatise v.,
ch. x.
2
Letters li. and cxx. of the collection trandated into French by B
OUIX
, Paris, 1870.
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