Mortification of St. Camillus of Lellis

'the very key of Paradise is, "not to be satisfied with avoiding sin, but to avoid even the least shadow and risk of sin."'

...It was his constant principle that he had learned in the school of Cassian, that no one could think of advancing in other virtues who had not learned to mortify his palate.

...

He usually sat in his room without a fire, half frozen. In the middle of summer he would walk to the hospital in the heat of the day. If often happened that, as he was going at night to assist the sick or on his travels, he was overtaken by a storm of hail or heavy rain; but he never complained or showed any signs of annoyance.

...Although the wound in his leg was extremely painful, yet so far from trying to alleviate it, he would even irritate it by stamping on the ground, or taking long walks, or riding, which was very distressing to him.

...At other times, he would sigh and say: "...If it were possible, men ought never to sleep, but always be laboring and suffering for the glory of God."

...one night the brother who had to wake him to go and watch the sick, seeing him so weak and weary, left him sleeping: but in the morning Camillus reproved him, saying: "God forgive you, my brother; when will you have me do any good, as you made me lose this night, without spending it in the service of the poor?"

...

Once he took his religious to a vineyard for recreation; while he was employed in spiritual conversation, he was told that a brother had made a flute of some reeds and was piping through the walks. He was so annoyed that he spoiled the whole of the recreation: "How is it possible," he kept saying, "that a Servant of the Sick should walk about a vineyard playing the flute?" He ordered him to be called, gave him a severe rebuke in the presence of all, and made him take the discipline on the spot as a penance.

...He was very particular about the education of the young, and did not wish their spiritual fervor to be cooled by scientific studies, nor their love of mortification and other virtues decreased by it; he used sometimes to quote the words of a companion of St. Francis: "O Paris, Paris, you have cooled my love for Assisi." And if he ever saw them at all relaxing from their mortifications, he rebuked them very severely.

The Life of St. Camillus of Lellis by Father Sanzio Ciccatelli, trans. by Father Frederick Faber. pp. 320-2

Practice of all the Saints, continually to afflict and chastize their bodies

mortification of St. Francis Paula

The liturgical year, tr. by L. Shepherd. Continuation [by L. Fromage]. By Prosper Louis P. Guéranger, L. Fromage: ""

abstained from all sorts of fruits

St. Rose of Lima disciplined herself seven times

mortification of self-love -- become saints in a short time

http://www.archive.org/stream/thecompleteascet01grimuoft/thecompleteascet01grimuoft_djvu.txt

8. By attention to the mortification of self-love we shall become saints in a short time, and without the risk of injury to health: for, since God is the only witness of interior acts, they will not expose us to the danger of being puffed up with pride. Oh! what treasures of virtue and what treasures of virtue and of merits are laid up by stifling, in their very birth, those little inordinate desires and affections; those bickerings; those suggestions of curiosity; those bursts of wit and humour; and all similar effects of self-love.

When you are contradicted, give up your opinion with cheerfulness, unless the glory of God require that you maintain it. When feelings of self-esteem spring up in your heart, make a sacrifice of them to Jesus Christ. If you receive a letter, restrain your curiosity, and abstain from opening it for some time. If you desire to read the termination of an interesting narrative, lay aside the book, and defer the reading to it to another time. When you feel inclined to mirth, to pull a flower, or to look at any object, suppress these inclinations for the love of Jesus Christ, and deprive yourself, for his sake, of the pleasure of indulging them. A thousand acts of this kind may be performed in the day. St. Leonard of Port Maurice relates, that a servant of God performed eight acts of mortification in eating an egg, and that it was afterwards revealed to her, that, as the reward of her self-denial, eight degrees of grace, and as many degrees of glory, were bestowed upon her. It is also narrated of St. Dositheus, that, by similar mortifications of the interior, he arrived, in a short time, at a high degree of perfection. Though unable, in consequence of bodily infirmities, to fast, or to discharge the other duties of the community, he attained so perfect an union with God, that the other monks, struck with wonder at his sublime sanctity, asked him what exercises of virtue he performed. "The exercise," replied the Saint, "to which I have principally attended, is the mortification of all selfwill."

Mortification of St. Anthony Mary Claret

ON MODESTY AND MORTIFICATION

Taken from the Autobiography of St. Anthony Mary Claret

St. Anthony Mary Claret wrote his autobiography reluctantly and only under obedience to his religious superiors. This chapter out of his book details the apostolic techniques which proved so successful in saving souls. Our Lord told him several times: "Give me blood (mortification) and I will give you spirit."

St. Anthony resolved never to waste a moment of time and during his 35 years a priest; he wrote 144 books and preached some 25,000 sermons. On one trip, besides traveling, he preached 205 sermons in 48 days – 12 in one day. Giving the reason he worked so zealously, he wrote: "If you were to see a blind man about to fall into a pit or over a precipice, would you not warn him? Behold, I do the same and do it I must, for this is my duty. I must warn sinners and make them see the precipice which leads to the unquenchable fires of Hell, for they will surely go there if they do not amend their ways. Woe to me if I do not preach and warn them, for I would be held responsible for their condemnation."

Here are his words on mortification:

The missionary is a spectacle to God, to the Angels, and to men. For this reason, he must be very circumspect and prudent in all his words, works, and ways. To this effect, I resolved that my conduct both at home and away from it, should be to talk very little, and to weigh every word I uttered, because people not infrequently take words to mean other than the speaker intends them to mean.

When talking to others, I proposed never to make gestures with my hands. In some places this is strongly ridiculed and looked upon as displeasing. My constant intention was always to speak sparingly, and that only when necessary. I resolved to speak briefly, and in a quiet and grave manner, without touching my face, chin, head, and much less my nose. I determined also never to make grimaces with my mouth, or to utter any funny or ridiculous statement, and never to ridicule anyone, because I saw that by doing these things, the missionary loses much of the authority, respect and veneration which is his due. All this is the result of fickleness, scant mortification, and little modesty. These habits and similar coarseness of manners manifest little or no education on the part of their possessors.

The missioner must also be at peace with all as St. Paul says. Now, with this in mind, I never scolded anyone, but tried to be kind to all. I endeavored also never to pass funny remarks about anyone, nor did I like to indulge in any form of buffoonery or mockery at another's expense. Laughing did not appeal to me, although I always manifested joy, gentleness and kindness in my person, for I remembered that Jesus was never seen to laugh, although He was seen weeping on some occasions. Those words also helped me determine my conduct: "Stultus in risu exaltat vocem suam; vir autem sapiens vix tacite ridebit -- The fool raises his voice in laughter, but the wise man will scarcely laugh silently."

Modesty, as we all know, is that virtue which teaches us how to do all things in the right way. It sets before our eyes how Jesus did things, and it tells us to do the same. So, before each action that I was about to do, I always asked myself, and still do, how Jesus Christ would do it. What care, purity and rectitude of intention should I have if I were to act like my Divine Model! How He preached; how He conversed; how He ate and rested; how He dealt with all manner of people; how He prayed; in fine, all His ways of doing things, were the sum and substance of my constant meditation and efforts, for with God's grace I determined to imitate Our Lord in everything, so as to be able to say with the Apostle, if not by word of mouth, then by my works: "Be ye imitators of me as I am of Christ."

I understood, O God, that if the missionary is to gather fruit in his ministry, it is essential for him to be not only irreproachable, but also in all places a man of virtue. People respect much more that which they see in a missionary than what they hear about him. This is proved by those words concerning Our Lord, the Model Missionary: "Coepit facere et docere." First of all He did things, then He taught afterwards.

Thou knowest, O my God, the number of times that in spite of all my resolutions I have failed against holy modesty. Thou wilt surely know if some have been scandalized by my lack of observance of this virtue. My Lord, if such be the case, I beg Thy pardon and mercy. I give Thee my word that, putting into practice the words of the Apostle, I will do my best to make my modesty known to all men. I promise that my modesty shall be like that of Jesus Christ, as St. Paul exhorts so strongly, and that I will imitate the humble St. Francis of Assisi who preached by his modesty, and converted many people by his good example. O my Lord Jesus, Love of my heart. I love Thee, and wish to draw all men to Thy most holy love!

Without mortification I knew that modesty was impossible. therefore I endeavored with the utmost determination to acquire this virtue of self-denial, cost what it might, yet always relying on the help of God's grace.

In the first place, I resolved to deprive myself of all taste or preference, and to give it to God. Without knowing how, I felt myself obliged to fulfill what was only of precept. My understanding was confronted with an inevitable alternative; either I should cater to my own taste or to God's. Now, as my understanding saw this gross inequality even though in such a small matter as this, I felt myself obliged to follow the good pleasure of God. Therefore, I willingly denied myself innocent and legitimate pleasures in order to have all my taste and gratification in God. I follow this rule even now in all things, in regard to meals, drink, sleep, in talking, looking, listening, and going to any part of the country, etc...

The grace of God has helped me a great deal in the practice of mortification, for I know that this habit of denying oneself is indispensably necessary to make one's work for souls fruitful, as well as one's prayer pleasing to God Our Lord.

In a very special manner have the examples of Jesus and Mary and the Saints encouraged me in this practice of mortification. I read assiduously the Lives of the Saints to see how they were wont to deny themselves, and I have made special notes which regulate my personal conduct. Singular among them must be mentioned St. Bernard, St. Peter of Alcantara, and St. Philip of Neri, of whom I have read that after having been for thirty years the confessor of a Roman lady renowned for her rare beauty, he still did not know her by sight.

I can say with certainty that I know the many women who come to confession to me more by their voice than by their features, because I never look at any woman's face. In their presence I blush and turn red. Not that the looking at them causes me temptations, for I do not have them, thanks be to God, but the fact still remains that I always blush, even though I cannot explain why. I might mention here that I naturally and in an entirely unaccountable manner keep in mind and observe that oft-repeated admonition of the holy Fathers, which goes: Sermo rigidus et brevis cum muliere est habendus et oculos humi dejectos habe -- Speech with women must be serious and brief, while the eyes must be cast on the ground. I know not how to hold a conversation with a woman, no matter how good she may be. In few and grave words I tell her what she must know, and then immediately I dismiss her without looking to see if she be rich or poor, beautiful or ugly.

When I was giving missions in Catalonia, I stayed at the rectories of those parishes in which I gave missions. During all that time I do not remember having looked at the face of any woman, whether she happened to be the housekeeper, the servant, or the relative of the parish-priest. Once it happened that after some time I returned to Vich, or some other town, and I was accosted by a lady who said to me: "Anthony Claret, don't you know me? I am the housekeeper of such and such a priest in whose parish you were for so many days giving a mission." but I did not recognize her; neither did I look at her. With my gaze fixed on the ground, I asked her: "And how is his Reverence the pastor?"

What is more, I shall relate another instance which could not have been so, had I not received very special graces from heaven. While I was in the island of Cuba, for six years and two months to be exact, I confirmed more than 300,000 persons, the majority of whom were women, and young ones at that. If any one were to ask me what are the characteristics of the Cuban women's features, I would say that I do not know, despite the fact that I have confirmed so many of them. In order to administer the Sacrament of Confirmation, I had to look where their foreheads were, and this I did in a rapid glance, after which I shut my eyes and kept them shut all during the administration of the Sacrament.

Besides this blushing that was natural to me when in the presence of women, and which hindered me from looking at them, there was another reason which prompted me to adhere to this mode of conduct. It was the desire to profit souls. I remember having read years ago of a famous preacher who went to preach in a certain town. His preaching turned out to be very fruitful, and all the townsfolk were lavish in their praise of him. "Oh, what a saint!" said they. Yet there was one exception of all these praises, and it came from a wicked man who said: "Perhaps he is a saint, but I can tell you one thing, and it is this: he likes women a great deal, for he was staring at them." This single expression was enough in itself to decrease the prestige which the good preacher had merited in that town, and not only that, but it brought to naught all the fruit which his preaching had produced.

Incidentally, I have also noticed that people form a poor opinion of a priest who does not mortify his eyes. Of Jesus Christ I read that He was always mortified and modest in regard to His looks, for the Evangelists have accounted as an extraordinary occurrence each time He lifted up His eyes.

The hearing was another faculty which I tried to mortify continually, especially disliking to listen to superfluous conversations and idle words. I could never suffer or tolerate those conversations which were detrimental to charity. If I happened to be present at one of them, I would either withdraw or refrain from taking part in it, or I would show my disapproval by the sad expression my face. This distaste applied also to conversations about food, drink, riches, or any worldly topic, including political news. Neither did I care to read newspapers, for I should prefer to read a chapter of the Holy Bible wherein I know for sure that what I read is true. In newspapers, as a general rule, one finds only a great deal of lies and useless reading.

It was my constant aim to deny myself in regard to speaking. Just as I have said that I dislike to hear useless things, so also in the same way I hated to talk of useless nothings. My resolution also embraced my keeping quiet about my sermons. I resolved never to talk of my sermons after their delivery. Since I myself was repelled by others talking of what they delivered, I concluded that others would be displeased with me if I, too, talked about my sermons. Thus, my fixed resolve was never to mention my sermons after delivering them, to do my very best in the pulpit, and to recommend all to God. If anyone gave me advice about my preaching, I received it with sincere gratitude and without excusing myself or explaining my views on the matter. I tried to amend and correct myself as much as possible.

I have observed before now that some people behave like hens which cackle after they lay their eggs, and thus are deprived of them. The same happens to some priests of little prudence, who, as soon as they have done some good work, such as hearing confession, or delivering a sermon or lecture, go in search of the baubles of vanity by speaking so smugly of what they have done and what they have said. Just as the hearing of this repels me, I conclude that I would repel others if I were to talk of the very same subjects. Thus, I have made it an inflexible rule never to speak of what I have done.

The subject which was most repugnant to me was the talking of things heard in confession, not only because of the danger involved in breaking the sacramental seal of confession, but also because of the bad effect produced on such people as may happen to hear anything of this nature. In view of these facts, I resolved on no account to speak of persons and their affairs in relation to confession, whether they had not been to confession for a long or short time, whether they had made a general confession or not, in a word, to say absolutely nothing of these affairs. I disliked hearing of priests who spoke of those who had gone to confession to them, what they had confessed and how long it had been since they had absented themselves from that sacrament of reconciliation. If any priest came to consult me about certain problems encountered in the confessional, I could not bear to hear him using the words: "I find myself in such a situation, with such a case; what shall I do?" I would tell them to recount their difficulties in the third person, as for example: "Let us suppose that a confessor is confronted with such and such a case of a certain nature. What steps should be taken?"

Our Lord gave me to understand that one of the things which would be of the utmost utility to the missionary is the virtue of self-denial in the matter of food and drink. The Italians have a saying which goes: "Not much credit is given to saints who eat." People believe that missionaries are more heavenly than earthly beings, that at least they are like unto the saints of God who need not eat or drink. God Our Lord has given me a very special grace in this regard, of going without eating, or eating very little. There were three reasons in my case for not eating much. Firstly, because I was unable to do so, not having an appetite, especially when I had to preach very often or had to hear many confessions. At other times I used to be somewhat hungry, but I did not eat even then, particularly when I was traveling, for I would refrain from doing so in order to be able to walk better. Finally, I would abstain from eating in order to edify, for I observed that everybody was watching me. From this it can be gathered that I ate very little, in spite of the fact that I was, at times, very hungry.

Whenever I did eat, I took what was given me, always however, in small quantities, and food of inferior quality. If I happened to reach the rectory of the parish at an unseasonable hour, I would tell the cook to prepare only a little soup and an egg -- nothing more. I never took meat; not even now do I eat it, not because I do not like it, for I do, but because I know that not taking it is most edifying. Neither did I take wine; although I like it, it has been years since I have tasted it, excluding, of course, the ablutions at Mass. The same may be said of liquor and spirits of any kind; I never take them, although I am still fond of them, since I used to take a little in years gone by. Abstaining from food and drink is a source of edification, and is even necessary nowadays in order to counteract the disgraceful excesses so prevalent in these times.

When I was in Segovia in the year 1859, on the 4th of September, at 4:25 in the morning, while I was at meditation, Jesus Christ said to me: "You have to teach mortification in eating and drinking to your missionaries, Anthony." A few minutes afterwards the Blessed Virgin told me: "By doing this you will reap fruit in souls, Anthony."

At that time I was giving a mission in the cathedral of Segovia to the clergy, the nuns, and the people of that city. One day while all were at table it was mentioned that the former Bishop, a man of marked zeal, had exhorted some priests to go and give missions -- an exhortation which they fulfilled to the letter. After having walked a fair distance, these priests began to get so hungry and thirsty that they decided to stop and have lunch, since they had brought some food and drink with them. Meanwhile some people of the town to which they were going came to welcome them, but finding the priests eating, the people lost their esteem for them, so much so that those missionaries were unable to make any headway in that town. So the story goes at any rate, although I do not know how it originated. All I know is, that it was as a confirmation of what had been told me by Jesus and Mary.

My experience has taught me that mortification is very edifying in a missionary. Even now it stands me in good stead. In the Palace here at Madrid, banquets are held frequently, while before they were even more frequent. I am always invited to them, but if it is possible, I excuse myself. If I cannot possibly excuse myself from attending, I go to them, but always eat less than usual on those festive occasions. It is my custom then to take only a little soup and a small piece of fruit; nothing else -- no wine, no water. Of course, all look at me and are highly edified. Before I came to Madrid, as I am led to understand, disorders were rampant everywhere. Indeed, this could be easily gathered. So many rich and sumptuous dishes, exquisite meals, and so much wine of all kinds decked the tables, that inducements to excess were not wanting. But since the time that I was obliged to take part in the banquets, I have not noticed the slightest excess; on the contrary, it appears to me that the guests refrain from taking what they need, because they see me not eating. Often at the table, those guests sitting on both sides talk to me of spiritual subjects, and even ask the name of the church in which I hear confessions, so as to come there themselves and confess their sins.

In order to edify my neighbor more and more, I have always refrained from smoking and taking snuff. Never have I said, or even hinted, that one thing pleases me more than the another. I have done this for as long as I can remember. Our Lord had so bestowed upon me this heavenly blessing of indifference that my dear mother (requiescat in pace) died without knowing what things I liked most. As she loved me so very much, she would try to please me by asking if I would like to have certain things in preference to other things. I would answer that I was pleased most of all by whatever she chose and gave me. But this reply would not be enough, for she would add: "I know that very well, but we always like some things more than others." To this I would respond that whatever she gave me was the thing I liked most of all. I naturally had inclinations for what suited me best, as we all have; but the spiritual satisfaction I had in doing another's will was so great that it surpassed the natural satisfaction resulting from doing my own will. Thus, I told the truth when I assured my mother that her will was my greatest pleasure.

Besides denying self in regard to sight, hearing, speaking, in the senses of taste and smell, I tried also to perform some acts of mortification, such as taking the discipline on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and wearing the cilice on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. If, however, I found that circumstances of time and place did not favor these modes of penance, I used to practice some other form of mortification, as for example: praying with the arms stretched out in the form of a cross, or with the fingers under the knees. I know very well that worldly people and those who have not the spirit of Jesus Christ make little of, and even disapprove of, these mortifications. But for my part, I keep in mind the teaching laid down by St. John of the Cross which states: "If anyone affirms that one can reach perfection without practicing exterior mortification, do not believe him; and even though he confirm this assertion by working miracles, know that his contentions are nothing but illusions."

As for me, I look to St. Paul for my example, for he mortified himself, and said publicly: "Castigo corpus meum et in servitutem redigo, ne forte cum aliis praedicaverim ipse reprobus efficiar -- I chastise my body and bring it into subjection, lest perhaps when I have preached to others I myself may become a castaway." All the saints until now have done in like manner. Venerable Rodriquez says that the Blessed Virgin said to St. Elizabeth of Hungary, that no spiritual grace comes to the soul, commonly speaking, except by way of prayer and bodily afflictions. There is an old principle which goes: "Da mihi sanguinem et dabo tibi spiritum." Woe to those who are enemies of mortification and of the cross of Christ!

In one act of mortification one can practice many virtues, according to the different ends which one proposes in each act, as for example:

1. He who mortifies his body for the purpose of checking concupiscence, performs an act of the virtue of temperance.
2. If he does this, purposing thereby to regulate his life well, it will be an act of the virtue of prudence.
3. If he mortifies himself for the purpose of satisfying for the sins of his past life, it will be an act of justice.
4. If he does it with the intention of conquering the difficulties of the spiritual life, it will be an act of fortitude.
5. If he practices this virtue of mortification for the end of offering a sacrifice to God, depriving himself of what he likes, and doing that which is bitter and repugnant to nature, it will be an act of the virtue of religion.
6. If he intends by mortification to receive greater light to know the divine attributes, it will be an act of faith.
7. If he does it for the purpose of making his salvation more and more secure, it will be an act of hope.
8. If he denies himself in order to help in the conversion of sinners, and for the release of the poor souls in purgatory, it will be an act of charity towards his neighbor.
9. If he does it so as to help the poor, it will be an act of mercy.
10. If he mortifies himself for the sake of pleasing God more and more, it will be an act of love of God.

In other words, I shall be able to put all these virtues into practice in one act of mortification, according to the end I propose to myself while doing the said act.

Virtue has so much more merit, is more resplendent, charming and attractive, when accompanied by greater sacrifice.

Man, who is vile, weak, mean, cowardly, never makes a sacrifice, and is not even capable of doing so, for he never resists even one appetite or desire. Everything that his concupiscence and passions demand, he concedes, if it is in his power to yield or reject, for he is base and cowardly, and lets himself be conquered and completely overcome, just as the braver of two fighters conquers the cowardly one. So it is with vice and the vicious -- the latter is crushed and the slave of his vices. Continence and chastity are therefore worthy of the highest praise, because the man who practices purity refrains from the pleasure which proceeds from nature or passion. Thus, the greater merit will be his the greater the pleasure he has denied himself. His merit will be the greater in proportion to the amount of repugnance he will have in conquering himself, in proportion to the intense and prolonged suffering he will have to undergo, to the human respect he will have to vanquish, and to the sacrifices he will have to make. Let him do all this and suffer all for the love of virtue and for God's greater glory. As to my exterior deportment, I proposed to myself modesty and recollection and in the interior of my soul my aim was continual and ardent occupation in God. In my work I aimed at patience, silence and suffering. The exact accomplishment of the law of God and of the Church, the obligations of my state of life as prescribed by God. I tried to do good to others, flee from sin, faults and imperfections, and to practice virtue.

All disagreeable, painful and humiliating happenings I considered as coming from God and ordered by Him for my own good. Even now, as I think of it, I fix my mind on God when such things occur, bowing in silence and with resignation to His most holy will; for I remember that Our Lord has said that not even a hair of our head shall fall without the will of our heavenly Father, Who loves us so much.

I know that three hundred years of faithful service to God are paid, and more than paid, when I am permitted an hour of suffering, so great is its value. O my Jesus and my Master, Thy servants who suffer tribulation, persecution, and abandonment by friends, who are crucified by exterior labors and by interior crosses, who are deprived of all spiritual consolation yet who suffer in silence and persevere in Thy love, O my Lord -- these are Thy loved ones, and the ones who please Thee most and whom Thou dost esteem most.

Thus I have resolved never to excuse or defend myself when others censure, calumniate and persecute me, because I would be the loser before God and men. I realize this because my calumniators and persecutors would make use of the truths and reasons I would bring forward in order to oppose me still further.

I believe that all my crosses come from God. Furthermore, God's will in my regard is that I suffer with patience and for the love of Him all pains of body and soul, as well as those persecutions directed against my honor. It is my firm belief that I shall be thus doing what will be for the greater glory of God, for I shall then be suffering in silence, like Jesus, Who died on the Cross abandoned by all.

To labor and to suffer for the one we love is the greatest proof of our love.

God was made man for us. But what kind of man? How was He born? How did He live? Yes, and what a death He endured! Ego sum vermis et non homo, et abjectio plebis -- I am a worm and no man, and the outcast of the people. Jesus is God and Man, but His Divinity did not help His Humanity in His crosses and sufferings, just as the souls of the just in heaven do not help their bodies which rot under the earth.

In a very special manner God helped the martyrs in their sufferings, but this same God abandoned Jesus in His crosses and torments, so that He was indeed a Man of Sorrows. The body of Our Lord was most delicately formed, and therefore more sensitive to pain and suffering. Well, then, who is capable of forming an idea of how much Jesus suffered? All His life, suffering was ever present. How much did He have to suffer for our love! Ah, what pains He underwent, so long-enduring and intense!

O Jesus, Love of my life, I know and realize that pains, sorrows and labors are the lot of the apostolate, but with the help of Thy grace I embrace them. I have had my share of them, and now I can say that by Thy aid, my Lord and my Father, I am ready to drain this chalice of interior trials and am resolved to receive this baptism of exterior suffering. My God, far be it from me to glory in anything save in the cross, upon which Thou wert once nailed for me. And I, dear Lord, wish to be nailed to the cross for Thee. So may it be. Amen.

Mortification of St. Chares Borromeo

The Life of St. Charles Borromeo, Cardinal Archbishop of Milan By Giovanni Pietro Giussano, John Peter Giussano: ON HIS SPIRIT OF PENANCE AND AUSTERITY OF LIFE

WHAT struck the world with astonishment was the austerity and penance which the Saint practised in the midst of ail the anxieties and business of his diocese. He had reached such a degree of perfection in the latter part of his life that he fasted almost daily on bread and water except on feast days when he made some addition but took neither meat eggs fish nor wine. During Lent he gave up the use of bread and lived upon dried figs and boiled beans and during holy week on lupines alone and had only one meal a day the year round"
...
Besides the little sleep he took in general, at the times when he had any unusual amount of business, as in his Provincial and Diocesan Councils, and his translations of the relics of the saints, he either slept very little, or merely took a little rest in a chair; which he liked doing, as he used to say there were generals who were so vigilant in time of war that they never lay down in bed, but only slept in a chair, and quoted his uncle, John Joseph de Medici, as an instance. "Hence," said he, "a Bishop who has the direction of souls, and lights against the legions of hell, ought not to be less watchful than a general in worldly warfare." To maintain this watchfulness gave him perhaps more trouble than anything else in this life, for he was naturally much inclined to sleep, and his body, wearied by his continual labours, needed more rest than he allowed it; and having to use violence in this way, there arose in him a continual struggle between body and spirit. Although he had the inferior part in subjection, yet he was never able entirely to overcome his strong propensity for sleep, notwithstanding his struggles against it. "As to his great austerities during the whole course of his life,"
...
This struggle against sleepfulness was manifest to all, as an enemy that was perpetually troubling him; but at the same time it was noticed that he never suffered himself to be overcome by it. When he was so far overcome by nature that he seemed as if he were asleep, still he was so far on the alert that he heard everything, and could give, for instance, an account of what the preachers said in sermons, and noticed if they made any mistakes, just as if he were the most wakeful of all. The last time he was in Rome, he used to go sometimes to hear Father Francesco Toledo, afterwards Cardinal, and on one occasion he appeared to be fast asleep all the time, when a prelate said to Francesco Bernardino Nava, then present : "If I were Cardinal Borromco's confessor, I should bid him sleep at night for his penance, that he might keep awake in the daytime, especially at sermons." It chanced that the Saint had a Cardinal and others to dine with him that day, and in conversation began to speak of the sermon, and gave a minute account of it, at which his brother Cardinal and those who had seen him asleep were much surprised. Some who saw him righting such a hard battle pitied him, and recommended him to take a little more sleep; one person gave him the opinion of a spiritual Father of great authority, who said that he ought to have at least seven hours' rest in order to keep in health and to bear fatigues; to which he replied, that the Father did not understand it was a Bishop he was speaking of. I remember that in a conversation with me on this subject he said that he certainly felt it a hard struggle with nature to avoid sleep, but when he considered his duty to God and the Church, he was able to overcome every difficulty. It gave him much trouble to see that his austere mode of life was not approved of, as ninny advised him to abstain from so much penance, lest he should shorten his life; and others wrote to him begging him to mitigate his austerities, among whom was the Archbishop of Valencia, in Spain, Father Luis of Granada. One of his intimate friends wrote also to Pope Gregory XIII., complaining that if his Holiness did not prevent it, the Cardinal would soon put an end to his days, as he could not survive under the weight of so many toils. A letter from his Holiness forbidding his austerities reached him in the beginning of holy week, 1584. During that Lent he had eaten dried figs, but had begun to take only lupines, but that diet he gave up immediately out of obedience to his Holiness. To others, as to the Archbishop of Valencia, before mentioned, he quoted the example of many saints who had used similar austerities, as follows : "It is unnecessary to remind you of holy men like St. Nicholas, St. Chrysostom, St. Spiridion, and St. Basil, who, although Bishops of large dioceses, persevered in continual prayer and fasting, and yet reached a good old age."

By these examples he wished to show that he could conscientiously, without risk of shortening life, continue his usual penances, and that even if it should please God to call him away soon, he should consider it a great favour, from the desire he had to offer up his life for the love of God in the service of His Church. He said the same in another passage of his letter to the Archbishop, as follows: "We ought to esteem it our greatest gain to spend our strength and our lives, which we must sooner or later lay down, in the service of the Church for which Christ died. No one, much less a Bishop, ought to be hindered by anxiety about health, or by fear of death, from the discharge of his duty, which is more important than any other consideration."

Although this austere life of the Saint was not approved of by all, as beyond human power to endure, yet it seems to have been pleasing to God, that in a time of great sensuality he should set an example in order to recall the pastors of souls in particular from the pursuit of pleasure and gain to the true discipline of the spiritual life. Our Lord therefore manifested by many signs and miracles that his servant's mode of life was most pleasing and acceptable to Himself, although not understood or approved of by all men.

The joy and true sweetness which are inseparable from the exercise of true mortification and of sincere humility.

III. THIRD MEANS. — The joy and true sweetness which are inseparable from the exercise of true mortification and of sincere humility.

There is no devotion, without universal, generous, and constant mortification. There is none without sincere humility. But is it possible to speak of humility and continual mortification, without terrifying persons who perhaps have some desire to gain an ardent love of Jesus Christ? Do they not immediately tremble at the thought of so uncomfortable a condition ?

Who can look upon a life full of crosses, without feeling horror ? To thwart our natural inclinations in everything, to deny our senses every satisfaction that is not absolutely necessary, to live in retirement and silence, without seeking the esteem of men, taking pleasure in their praises, or feeling regret at their contempt, — is not this, we may say, to lead a very unhappy life ? All, however, who live in this manner, declare that they are perfectly happy. The world says that this kind of life is insupportable ; but Jesus Christ Himself says that it is sweet and easy, full of joy and consolation. The world — that is to say, those who know nothing about this life — say one thing ; and all who have experienced it, say quite the contrary. St. Francis of Sales calls this sort of life the sweetness of sweetnesses. St. Ephrem, whilst practising a most mortified life, cried out, full of consolation, " It is enough, my God, it is enough ! Do not load me with Thy benefits. Moderate Thy liberality, if Thou wouldst not have me die, for the ineffable sweetness which I taste in Thy service is enough to cause my death." " I am in a country," says St. Francis Xavier, writing from Japan to his brethren in Europe, " where I am in want of all the conveniences of life. But nevertheless, I feel so much interior consolation, that there is danger of my losing my sight through weeping with joy." Can so many thousands of Saints, whom we acknowledge to have been so wise and so sincere, have agreed to say exactly opposite to what they thought and experienced ?

But if we are so unhappy, as worldly persons think, in this exercise of continual mortification, how is it that those we see to be most mortified are always the most contented ? How is it that we find no persons on earth perfectly contented, perfectly happy, but those who are most mortified ? If this mortified life does not itself produce this unalterable joy, by what artifice do these persons preserve themselves until death, in a sweetness and tranquillity which no misfortune of life can ever disturb ? If they merely feign it, how is it that persons of the world, who know so well the art of dissimulation, have never as yet been able to conceal their uneasiness and their regrets, though they pass the greater part of their life in pleasure and amusement ? Virtue alone, says St. Augustin, though it seems austere, gives true pleasure. There is no perfect felicity in this world, except for virtuous persons, who seriously labour at their sanctification. Exempt as they are from the disturbance of those cruel passions which tyrannise over the wicked, they experience more sweetness in their life, and less regret. Perfectly submissive to God's will, they enjoy a calm and profound peace which the world cannot give. This sweet tranquility of conscience is the ordinary result of virtue. The more we belong to God, the more do we enjoy it. The more we keep back from God, the less do we participate in this sweetness.

What might we not say of the secret unction by which Almighty God lightens the yoke of His law; of those happy moments in which He makes Himself heard by just souls; of that sweet hope, which makes them feel in anticipation the joys of heaven; of those rays of light, which show them so clearly the vanity of the world; of those tears of consolation, which they sometimes shed at the foot of the crucifix, when they experience a purer and more exquisite joy than the most delightful pleasures of the world can afford? This joy and this interior sweetness, which surpasses all imagination, is a hidden mystery to tepid souls. It is for them an unknown language. But give me, says St. Augustin, a fervent soul, one truly humble and mortified, a heart full of the love of Jesus Christ; such a one will understand what I say. "Da amantem et sentiet quod dico." It is true, that to be perfect, it is not necessary to be altogether insensible to the misfortunes of life. Disasters may cause some agitation to the just, but they do not overpower him. He has always in his virtues a strong rock of support. In the broad way in which the imperfect walk, even though it had on crosses of its own, everything would contribute to raise them up around. Whereas, in the path followed by those who have an ardent love of Jesus Christ, whatever crosses there are, heaven and earth conspire, as it were, to sweeten them. The Son of God Himself carries them with us, to lighten their weight. Finally, the mere thought of death is enough of itself to alarm the happiest worldlings, whereas it serves but to console and rejoice the virtuous. Was there ever anyone at the point of death, at that moment when so correct a judgment is formed of everything, who was sorry for having practised mortification, or for having led a perfect life ? Or rather, is there anyone, on the contrary, who has not felt a deep regret for not having done so ?

Perfect mortification must assuredly have charms that we know not, because we are not perfectly mortified. Our weakness lets us do only enough to feel the difficulty, but not enough to taste the sweetness. It seems as though we mistrusted what is told us by the virtuous, and what Jesus Christ Himself promises us. We would have Him pay us in advance. We forget that in this, it is only the first step that is difficult. All the difficulty lies in resolving to mortify ourselves. Taste, says the Prophet, and see. In this matter, the eye is deceived ; we must judge by the taste alone. Those who had seen the land of promise only from afar, were frightened, and said that it devoured its inhabitants. But those who had been there, said quite the contrary, and declared that it was a land flowing with milk and honey. Let us make this perfect sacrifice for a fortnight, at least. A thing must be indeed of little value, if it is not worth the trial. If, after a fortnight of continual and perfect mortification, we do not taste that sweetness which others experience, I am content, said a great servant of God, that it should be said, that the life of those who truly love Jesus Christ is irksome, and that the yoke of our Lord is heavy.

Is it not strange, that men should require so much to convince them that they can be happy in the exercise of constant mortification, when they see daily so many persons pensive and uneasy amidst the greatest dissipation, ? If there are sufferings which are unseen, is it impossible that there should be a hidden sweetness ? There is such, certainly, and it depends on ourselves to experience it.

Fr. la Colombiere had made a vow, with the leave of his superiors, to observe all his rules, and he had bound himself in particular to a continual mortification in all things. What will those to whom the three essential vows of religion seem an insupportable burden, think of this great servant of God ? Would they not consider him unhappy ? But see what he himself has written in his Spiritual Retreats, in which, as is commonly the practice of persons of solid virtue, who are resolved on making constant progress in the way of perfection, he has noted the sentiments given him by God, and the graces which He granted him, in order to remind himself to thank Him for them, and to encourage himself to love Him more every day.

"On the sixth day," he says, " making a consideration on the particular vow I have made, I was filled with gratitude to God, who has granted me the grace to make this vow. I had never had time to consider it thoroughly. I felt great joy in seeing myself bound thus by a thousand chains to do the will of God. The thought of this obligation is so far from alarming me, that it fills me with joy. It seems to me, that, in place of being a slave, I have entered into the kingdom of liberty and peace."

"When I am quite alone," he says elsewhere, "I feel, by the infinite mercy of God, a liberty of heart that causes me incomparable joy. I feel myself attached to nothing, at least at the time. This does not hinder me from feeling every day the emotions of almost all the passions. But a moment's reflection serves to calm them.

"I have often felt great interior joy in the thought that I was in God's service. I have felt that this was worth more than all the favour of kings. The occupations of worldly persons appeared to me most contemptible, compared with what is done for God. I feel myself exalted above all the kings of the earth by the honour of belonging to God.

"I feel continually a greater desire to apply to the observance of my rules. I feel the greatest delight in practising them. The more exact I am in them, the more I seem to enter into perfect liberty. It is certain that this does not cause me any uneasiness. On the contrary, this yoke makes me, as it were, much lighter. I look on this as the greatest grace I have ever received in my life.

"It cannot be doubted that this great servant of God practised continual mortification in all things after making an express vow to do so. Thus he was seen in his last illness, when his infirmity would allow him to leave his bed, passing many hours of the day on a seat without any kind of support, persevering in this manner until death in the practice of universal mortification. This mortified life filled him with such consolation and so great interior joy. that he confesses that it may indeed be felt, but cannot possibly be described. "

The sight of Jesus Christ," he says, " makes the cross so pleasant to me, that it seems as if I could not be happy without it. I look with respect on those whom God visits with humiliations and adversities, of what kind soever they be. They are without doubt His favourites. To humble myself I have only to compare myself with them whilst I am in prosperity."

"The following words," he continues, " never come into my mind, but light, peace, liberty, meekness, and love enter in, as it seems to me, at the same time with them : ' Simplicity,' ' confidence,' ' humility,' ' self-abandonment,' ' absence of all reserve,' 'the will of God,' ' my rules.' "

The experience of this great servant of God shows us, that not only have the Saints who have preceded us found so much sweetness in the exercise of universal and constant mortification, but that even those with whom we live experience the same, as soon as they have the generosity to mortify themselves continually.

http://cathom.blogspot.com/2009/01/joy-and-true-sweetness-which-are.html

IV. FOURTH OBSTACLE. — Some Unmortified Passion.

Devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus -- Fr. Croiset

IV. FOURTH OBSTACLE. — Some Unmortified Passion.

The fourth obstacle, and the fourth source of those defects which hinder and destroy the love of Jesus Christ, and consequently the devotion to His Sacred Heart, are certain unmortified passions to which we are attached, and which, sooner or later, are the fatal cause of some great misfortune.

The greater number of persons who wish to give themselves to God, and who consequently declare a mortal war against all vices, proceed in this war something in the same way as Saul did, in the war he undertook by the order of God against Amalech — Vade, percute Amalech, et demolire universa ejus ; non parcas ei, et non concupiscas ex rebus ipsius aliquid. Now, therefore, go and smite Amalech, and utterly destroy all that he hath; spare him not, nor covet anything that is his (1 Kings xv. 3). Almighty God had ordered Saul to exterminate all the Amalekites, and destroy whatever belonged to them, without sparing anything. Saul exterminated the people, but, moved with compassion, he pardoned the king, and reserved for sacrifice whatever he found most precious on the field : et pepercit Saul Agag . . . et universis quae pulchra erant, nec voluerunt disperdere ea; quidquid vero vile fuit et reprobum, hoc demoliti sunt. And Saul spared Agag . . . and all that was beautiful, and would not destroy them, but everything that was vile and good for nothing, that they destroyed. The Lord hath rejected thee from being king. But this disobedience cost Saul his kingdom, and was the cause of his reprobation and ruin : abjecit te Dominus ne sis Rex.

Many follow the example of Saul in the war they undertake against their vices. May God preserve them from a similar fate. We are well convinced that God wills that we should make a sacrifice to Him of all our passions, and that He cannot endure that we should spare any vice. But we consent to this only in appearance. We destroy, so to speak, all our enemies, but there is some predominant passion that we spare. There is always something particularly dear and precious that we do not touch. That we may deceive ourselves without scruple, we leave a place in our heart always with some good motive, for one of our enemies. We extinguish in ourselves the spirit of the world, but we like to see it still living in its followers. We dress ourselves with all modesty, but we wish a daughter to be attired in the extreme of unchristian fashions. We do not gamble, but we are recklessly extravagant in the entertainments which we give. We moderate our impetuosity and our anger, but we spare a secret ambition and some secret jealousy which we cannot resolve to overcome. We mortify that constant dissipation which is so unbecoming in persons who make profession of loving Jesus Christ in a special manner, but we will not deprive ourselves of the liberty of spending whole hours in visits and useless conversations. Under the pretence that we must make ourselves agreeable to all, to gain all to Jesus Christ, and that we must make virtue easy, sweet, and amiable, we insensibly get into the habit of doing everything just like others, and reserve only the name and appearance of virtue.

Others, a little more generous, break the strongest links that kept them attached to the world. They leave their parents and their property. They even give up their liberty in a certain way, and submit to the yoke of religious obedience. But they do not take pains to break the smaller links, that is to say, to free themselves from a variety of little affections, which fail not to stop them, and retard their progress in the way of perfection. What does it matter, that the fetters which keep us bound to creatures are slight, if there are many of them ? A single chain, however small, suffices to hinder us from advancing a single step when we will not break it.

Finally, there are some who are generous enough to resolve to overcome all. They even make some efforts to do so. But they do not touch their natural disposition or that failing which suits their inclinations best. This one enemy left unconquered, this single passion not mortified, this single chain unbroken, makes them go on creeping all their lives, and hinders them from arriving at the high perfection to which they were called — pro eo ergo abjecit te Dominus ne sis Rex. The Lord hath rejected thee from being king. A small opening is enough to destroy a ship, and to bring to ruin in course of time the most splendid edifice. A spark suffices to cause a great conflagration. Death is often the consequence of a trifling sickness neglected. A single ill drawn stroke of the pencil is enough to discredit a picture, otherwise well executed.

We are surprised sometimes to see persons who have grown old in exercises of piety, men of consummate spirituality and highly mortified, who still retain very great imperfections which they themselves condemn in others, and of which, however, they never correct themselves. This arises from their familiarising themselves, as it were, with their own failings. They have spared them from their youth ; they allow their natural disposition to act. They easily become impatient ; they continually praise themselves always with some good motive, and under some grand pretext. They neglect to become perfect when they are young, and they find themselves most imperfect when they are old.

Such are the great obstacles to the love of Jesus Christ, and consequently to the devotion to His Sacred Heart. Such are the sources of the many imperfections that are noticed in persons who seem the most spiritual ; imperfections, however, which do great injury to true piety, by the false idea they give of devotion. True piety always condemns these defects. The true love of Jesus Christ cannot exist together with these imperfections, this secret pride, this self-love. The effects of these three fatal sources are not to be found in those who possess this true love. And yet, without this pure and true love of Jesus Christ, there is no solid devotion, no perfect virtue.

"My God!" exclaimed a great servant of God, "what confusion and disorder is this ? At one time we are cheerful, at another sad ; to-day we are kind to every one, to-morrow we are like a hedge-hog, that no one can touch without being pricked." This is a clear proof of a want of virtue. It is a sign that nature still reigns in us, that our passions are not mortified. A truly virtuous man is always the same. Is there no danger, if we sometimes do good, of our doing it rather through humour than from virtue ?

I. FIRST MEANS. — True Mortification.

Source: Devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus by Fr. Croiset

I. FIRST MEANS. — True Mortification.

Mortification is so necessary for the perfect love of Jesus Christ, that it is the first lesson that Jesus Christ Himself gives to those who wish to be His disciples. Without it, we can have no hope of ever being disciples of Jesus Christ. If any man will come after Me, says our loving Saviour, let him deny himself, take up his cross, and follow Me; and whosoever doth not carry his cross, and hate his own life, cannot be My disciple, and is not worthy of Me. For this reason all the Saints agree in considering that there is no stronger proof of real piety than perfect mortification. Is he a very mortified person ? asked St. Ignatius, when the virtue of some one was praised by others. He would give them to understand that true mortification is inseparable from true piety, not only because no virtue can long exist without constant and general mortification, but also, because, without mortification, there is no such thing as true virtue.

There are two sorts of mortifications : one exterior, which consists in the maceration of the body ; the other interior, which is properly the mortification of the mind and heart. Both are necessary for attaining perfection. One cannot exist long without the other. Fasts, watchings, hair-shirts, and other bodily mortifications are powerful means to become truly spiritual and truly perfect ; and when they are used with discretion, help marvellously to strengthen nature, always weak for good and prone to evil ; to repress the assaults and escape the snares of our common enemy, and finally to obtain from the Father of mercies, the helps that are necessary for all the just, and especially for beginners.

It is true that sanctity does not consist in exterior penances, and that they are not incompatible with hypocrisy. But it is not so with interior mortification. This is always a mark of true piety. It is, therefore, still more necessary than exterior mortification, and no one can reasonably abstain from it. We must do ourselves this violence continually, in order to gain heaven. All are not able to fast, or to wear a hair-shirt, but there is no one who cannot be silent, at a time when passion moves him to answer, or vanity to speak. There is no one who cannot mortify his natural disposition, his desires, his passions. It is in this that interior mortification chiefly consists. By it we weaken our self-love, reduce it to reason, and free ourselves from our imperfections. It is in vain that we flatter ourselves we love Jesus Christ, if we are not mortified. All the sublimest sentiments of piety, all the practices of devotion are to be suspected, if not accompanied by this perfect mortification. We wonder to see ourselves so imperfect, and after so many practices of piety, so many communions, to feel the various passions that continually agitate our heart. Do we not see that it is the want of perfect mortification which is the source of all these disorders ? It is necessary, then, if we would weaken and destroy this self-love, by which all the passions are fed, to resolve upon generous and constant mortification.

It is not enough to mortify ourselves for a certain time, and in some things. We must, if possible, mortify ourselves in all things and at all times, though with prudence and discretion. A single irregular gratification which you allow to nature has more effect in making her haughty and rebellious, than a hundred victories that you may have gained over her will have in weakening her. A truce with enemies of this kind is a victory for them. My brethren, says St. Bernard, what is lopped off, sprouts again ; what is extinguished, rekindles ; what is slumbering, wakes up again. To preserve the interior spirit of devotion we must prevent our soul from diffusing itself abroad. We must surround it on all sides, as the Prophet says, with a hedge of thorns. Now this we neglect to do ; and hence our tepidity, our relaxation, and all our indevotion. If we mortify nature in one thing, we immediately repay it by some other satisfaction which we allow it. If we are recollected in a retreat, as soon as it is over, we open all the doors of our senses to objects that will dissipate us. The exercise of this interior mortification, so habitual to all the Saints, is familiar to all those who have a true desire of perfection. We have but to attend to the suggestions of the Spirit of God. The love of Jesus Christ is so ingenious on this point, that the diligence and the methods of mortification, with which it at once inspires the most ignorant persons, surpass the ideas of the most learned, and may almost be called miraculous. There is nothing that does not afford them an opportunity of mortifying their natural inclinations. There is no time, or place, that does not seem suited to mortify themselves, without ever departing from the rules of real good sense. It suffices that they have a great wish to see or to speak, to oblige them to cast down their eyes, and be silent. The desire to hear news, or to know all that happens, is to them a constant motive for mortification. This mortification is the more meritorious in proportion, as it is less extraordinary, and has God for its sole witness. A happy remark, a witty pleasantry, may do us honour in society, but it may also form the subject of a pleasing sacrifice. There is scarcely an hour of the day which does not offer some opportunity of mortification. Whether we are sitting or standing, we can easily find a less comfortable place or position, without anything appearing exteriorily. If we are repeatedly interrupted in some very serious occupation, we can reply as often with as much mildness and civility as if we had not been occupied at all. The patience of a person of solid virtue, may find great exercise in the ill-temper of any one about him ; the imperfections of a servant, or the ingratitude of one who is under obligations to him. Finally, inconveniences of place, season, or persons, borne in such a manner, as if we did not perceive them, are, it is true, small opportunities of mortifying ourselves — but mortification in these little things is no little matter. It is of great merit; and it may be said that the greatest graces, and the most exalted sanctity, depend generally on the generosity which we show in mortifying ourselves in these little things. It is not a small mortification to omit none of the duties of a community, and to conform oneself in all things to community life, without having any regard to our own inclinations, our employments, or age. This kind of mortification is the more valuable in proportion, as it is less exposed to vanity, and more conformable to the spirit of Jesus Christ.

But if we did not find in external things so many occasions for mortifying ourselves, they are always to be found within ourselves. We cannot be for a long time modest, recollected, reserved, without great mortification. Honesty, meekness and civility may be the effect of education, but they are generally the marks of one who is habitually mortified. Without this virtue how can we be in peace, and always the same, do always perfectly what we do, and be always content with what God wills ?