Of the Roots and Causes of Sadness, and Its Remedies

BUT let us see the roots and causes whence sadness springs, that so we may apply the necessary remedies. Cassian and St. Bonaventure say that sadness may spring from many roots. Sometimes it springs from natural infirmity and a prevalence of melancholy humor in the body, in which case the remedy belongs rather to physicians than to theologians. But it is to be observed that the melancholy humor is engendered and increased by the melancholy thoughts the man entertains. So Cassian says that we should be no less careful to prevent these sad and melancholy thoughts’ arising in us and carrying us away than we are in checking thoughts that come to us against chastity or against faith, for the great losses which, as we have said, may accrue to us thereby.

At other times, he says, without any particular cause going before provocative thereof, a man is apt to find himself of a sudden sad and melancholy, so as to have no enjoyment of anything, not even of friends and society which he used formerly to like, but everything vexes and offends him. He does not want to see or converse with anybody; and if he does converse and talk, it is not with that pleasantness and affability which he used to show, but dryly and peevishly. Hence we may gather, says Cassian, that our fits of impatience and harsh and disagreeable speeches do not always arise from occasion thereof given by our brethren, but from within. The cause is ourselves; our not keeping our passions under control is the root from which it all springs. Thus the means to keep peace is not by shunning intercourse and conversation with men—it is not that that God commands us—but in the practice of patience and thorough mortification of our passions. If these are not mortified, wherever we go and whithersoever we fly, we carry with us the cause of our temptations and troubles.

The story is well known that Surius relates of a monk who by reason of his passionate temper and ill-restrained outbursts of anger was a burden to himself and others; and so determined to leave the monastery of the holy Abbot Euthymius, in which he lived, thinking that, when he was rid of all intercourse with others and lived by himself, his anger would cease for lack of occasion to excite it. He did so and, shutting himself up in a cell, took with him a jug of water; and by contrivance of the devil it was spilled. He went back to fill it with water again, and a second time it was spilled, falling to the ground. He went a third time to fill it and set it down carefully, and a third time it was spilled; and then, with more anger than usual, he seizes the jug and flings it to the ground, where it is smashed to pieces. After doing that, he began to reckon the matter up, and came to see that it was not the company of the monks and communication with them that was at the root of his falling into fits of impatience and anger, but his own want of mortification; and so finally he returned to his monastery. Thus it is that the cause of your restlessness and impatience lies in yourself, and not in your brethren. Mortify your passions, and in that way, says Cassian, you will have peace even with wild beasts, according to that saying of Job: The beasts of the field shall be tame to thee (Job v. 23)—how much more your brothers!

At other times, says St. Bonaventure, sadness is apt to arise from some trouble befalling you, or from your not having gained some object of your desire. St. Gregory and St. Augustine and other saints also specify this cause, and say that the sadness of the world springs from a man’s being attached to worldly things; for it is clear that he must be saddened who sees himself bereft of what he loves. But he who shall be loosened and detached from all things of the world, and put all his desire and contentment in God, will be free from the sadness of the world. Father Avila says very well: ‘There is no doubt but that grief comes of desire; and thus the more desire, the more grief; the less desire, the less grief; and where there is no desire, there is ease.” Thus our desires are our executioners; they are the torturers that torment and throttle us.

Coming down now more to particulars, and applying things to ourselves, I say that oftentimes the cause of sadness in a religious is his not being indifferent to all that obedience may lay upon him: this is what is apt often to make him sad and melancholy, and go about with a gloomy and overcast countenance, asking himself: “What if they take this away from me, which I find to my liking? What if they order me this, for which I feel a repugnance?” By the mere fact of a man’s desiring to have what he has not or fearing to lose what he has, his life must be one of pain and uneasiness. But a religious who sets himself with indifference to anything that obedience shall enjoin him and has placed all his content and satisfaction in doing the will of God, is always satisfied and cheerful, and nothing can put him out of his contentment. The superior may move him from this office or from this college, but he cannot move him from the contentment that he has in this consideration; since he has placed it not in being here or there, or in holding this office or that, but in doing the will of God. And thus he carries his contentment with him wherever he be, and in any duty whatever that they put him to. If, then, you wish to be always cheerful and contented, put your contentment in doing the will of God in all things, and put it not in this or that, or in doing your own will, for that is no way to find content, but to come in for a thousand discontents and uneasinesses.

Further to declare the matter, that which is commonly the cause of our fits of melancholy and sadness is not the humor of melancholy, but the humor of pride reigning in our hearts. So long as this humor shall reign in your heart, make sure that fits of melancholy and sadness will never be lacking to you, because occasions will never be lacking, and thus you will live in perpetual pain and torment. To this we may reduce the case that we have just been speaking of, of aman’s not being indifferent to anything and everything that obedience may command him; because very often it is not the labor or difficulty of the office that is proposed to us—because there will usually be greater labor and greater difficulties in the high offices and posts that we covet and desire—but it is pride and desire of honor that is at the bottom of the trouble. This it is that makes the laborious post seem easy, and the light and easy burdensome, so that the mere thought and fear of having such a thing put upon us is enough to plunge us into sadness and melancholy.

The remedy for this sadness clearly will be, to be humble and content with a lowly position. Such a one will be free from all these sadnesses and uneasinesses, and enjoy much peace and quiet. Learn of me, because I am meek and humble of heart, and ye shall find rest to your souls (Matt. xi. 29). So St. Augustine explains these words; he says that, if we imitate Christ in humility, we shall feel no labor nor difficulty in the practice of virtues, but much facility and sweetness. What makes the difficulty is selflove, self-will, and private judgment, desire of honor and esteem and amusement and comfort. Humility gets rid of and clears away all these obstacles, making a man think little of himself, deny his own will and judgment, and despise honors and reputation and all temporal goods and satisfactions. Once rid of all this, you find no difficulty in the practice of virtue, but great peace and ease.