An Answer to a Scruple about the Duty of Looking After One’s Health

SINCE the chief and best warranted motive that presses upon us to adopt some singularities is the duty that we seem to have of looking after our health and preserving our lives, we will repeat here some things that doctors of theology say on this subject. In the first place they observe, and it is common doctrine, that it is one thing to kill oneself, and take means to shorten one’s life on purpose—and that is unlawful and a very grave sin—but quite another thing to take no trouble to preserve one’s health or life, nor seek to prolong it; and that, they say, is not unlawful, but lawful. Thus, no one is bound to endeavor to lengthen his life or preserve it by eating dainty dishes or extraordinary foods; or to live in the healthiest places, though he knows that there he shall live longer and enjoy better health; or, again, to get for himself the most wholesome foods that agree best with his constitution, though he know for certain that by that means he shall prolong his life and enjoy better health. This is clear, since the contrary would be a condemnation of all the fasts, abstinences, and penances of the Church and religious orders. Nay, theologians and saints say that to go in search of these things is ordinarily reprehensible, especially in religious. Neither is one bound in sickness to look out for out-of-the-way, very precious, and costly medicines to save one’s life, or rare and eminent physicians, but all that is blameworthy in a religious man, who makes profession of humility and poverty. Enough te use common and easy means, that ordinarily meet the case; for bodily life and health is a temporal good, and of very little value in comparison with the life of the soul, and so God does not oblige us to more than this.

And not only from what is extraordinary and out of the way is it lawful to keep aloof, but also from what is common and ordinary. So we see that religious and servants of God eschew the sustenance, sleep, and bodily cheer that others commonly take and that they might take lawfully, and we grant them that, not only as a lawful, but even a holy practice, though they know that it must in some sort injure their health and that in this way they will shorten their lives. As it is lawful, and a thing of high virtue and merit, to expose oneself to danger of death and give one’s temporal life, not only for one’s neighbor’s soul, but also for his temporal life, as they do who serve and minister to the plague-stricken and persons suffering from other contagious diseases, so it is also lawful and very virtuous conduct to expose oneself to a small loss of life, or a little injury to bodily health, in view of helping one’s own soul by the benefit of mortification. If, to gain a morsel of bread for the support of his family and the keeping up of some little respectability, a man crosses the sea and goes to Flanders and the Indies, and endures many bad nights and worse days, with much injury to health and danger of life, and we put that down as lawful, how much more must it be a lawful and holy thing to do the like for the spiritual health of one’s own soul, to keep the flesh subject and submissive to the spirit, that it may not rebel against it and commit some treason! This is the meaning of doing penance; and if we abandon that, we shall have to abandon also all the penances that are practised in the Church of God.

There is a further question discussed by theologians, whether it is lawful for a servant of God who has a great pain in his liver or stomach, or a very painful wound, to seek no cure and use no medical treatment, but suffer for Christ, supposing there is no danger of death; and they answer Yes. They quote the instance of St. Agatha, who, when St. Peter came in the figure of an old man to cure her breasts that had been cut off by the persecutor, would not consent to his curing her, saying that she had never used any bodily remedy. They quote also the example of many spiritual and holy men, who preferred to suffer a pain in the liver or stomach without applying any remedy, on purpose to mortify their flesh and subject it to the spirit, and to feel and partake somewhat of the pains and Passion of Christ, and were very content and quite cheerful, and benefited by those pains.

Further, to make it evident that neither health nor even life is so valuable as to oblige us to pay such regard to it, or be so industrious to secure and keep it as some imagine, theologians put this case. Suppose a man is sure to die unless they cut off a leg or an arm; they ask if he is bound to submit to the amputation, and they say No. They quote what a certain patient said in such a case: “Health and life are none so precious or desirable as to oblige me to suffer so much pain for them”’—WNam non est tanto digna dolore Salus. Theologians say that a man is not bound to use medicines to prolong his life, though he knows that it will be shortened if he does not use them. For instance, if the doctors ordered him to purge every month, or every year, and take such and such medicines, or to have an incision made on one side and another on the other, he is not bound to do it, although he were to die ten years earlier in consequence. The same doctors of theology say further that, though a man knew that by drinking wine, or drinking it iced, he should shorten his life, he is not bound under mortal sin to give up the wine or the iced drink. Let us apply this, then, to our purpose. If to tickle the palate, to drink cooling draughts, to eat savory and tasty things, and to enjoy suchlike luxuries, men take no account of the preservation of their health, or the prolongation of their life, nor look to that at all, and we do not condemn them on that account, why should a religious be so careful of his health as to upset regular observance, fancying that this will do him harm and that will do him more good! But grant that it is no fancy, but fact: let us put in one scale the need and the benefit likely to be derived from the remedy—a very uncertain quantity—and in the other the trouble and worry, your own and other people’s, and the disedification thence ensuing, and other pernicious consequences, and we shall see that this side incomparably outweighs the other. What people in the world do, and possibly you have often done it yourself—to enjoy a delicacy and a tit-bit—is it not reasonable to do the like to enjoy religious life, and go with the community and give no scandal and disedification to your brethren?

At least let us gather this lesson from what has been said, that one is under no obligation to aim at getting these special comforts. As for what regards the scruple, you may rest assured that there is no ground for it, even though you get less than you do get when things are at their worst, whether in health or in sickness, and though you do suffer somewhat in health thereby. You will do the better and the more perfect thing by suffering something and taking it for penance, instead of going about to procure comfort and convenience, complaining that they do not look after you, or make such account of you as they ought. God does not require us to look so much after our health as that.

On those words of Christ: He that shall inordinately love his life shall lose it; and he that shall scorn and cast it off for me shall find it in life everlasting (Matt. xvi. 25), St. Bernard says: “Hippocrates and his school teach us how to preserve our lives in this world; Epicurus teaches us to set our hearts on pleasure, and seek our comfort with great zest; Christ our Redeemer teaches us to lose our lives, and scorn the delights and comforts of the body, and make all that of little account in comparison with the good of the soul. See, then, which of these masters you wish to follow; see whether you wish to be a disciple of Christ, or of Hippocrates and Galen.’’ We may add here that we see by experience that those who give way to these fancies and peculiarities are always ill and out of sorts, and often lose their health by the very means they take to preserve it, while, on the other hand, those who, trusting to God and to obedience, follow the community and adapt themselves to everything, live sound, healthy lives in religion. They who ate lentils and did not drink wine, says Holy Scripture (Dan. i. 15), had better and plumper faces than their companions who ate and drank of the table of the king.

Cassian makes another good point. He says that there are some who wish these special comforts to be supplied them, not so much for any need that they have of them, but as a mark of dignity, a piece of presumption and pride. They want more to be made of them than of others, and some difference of treatment accorded, because they are ancients in religion, preachers, professors, and masters of arts. These people, says Cassian, are never very spiritual men, nor distinguished for virtue. Those ancient fathers, he says, who in point of discipline shine as luminaries in the Church of God, were great lovers of common life, great enemies of singularities, and these we ought to imitate.

But we do not mean by this that no one should go to the trouble of representing his necessities, since it is clear that in a large community there are always some who need special treatment, since not all have the same health or vigor of body. It is well that all should understand this, and no one take occasion from what we have said to judge others; but rather, when they see anyone having things specially provided for him, to reckon that he needs it, and have compassion on him and his infirmity. Be not, says St. Bernard, like those who “feel envy where they ought to feel pity and compassion. Such people take their neighbor for fortunate in having better diet and better treatment, while he counts himself unfortunate and miserable for being subject to this necessity and unable to follow the community, and feels that more than the ailment itself.” There is no envy on our part, nor grumbling, but rather pity, when we see him who is particularly unwell, treated with more abundant and costly medicines: so, when you see one suffering from this need of special treatment, do not envy, but pity him, and be very thankful to Heaven that you are in no need of more food, more sleep, more clothing, more comforts, but can afford to fare as the community fares. Anyone, says St. Bernard, who looks with envious eyes on the special allowances made for others, shows clearly low thoughts and a heart inclined to sensuality and self-indulgence.

The saint ends with a conclusion wherewith I also may well conclude: “I say not this, my brother, because I have at present any complaint to make on this score, but because I think it necessary to admonish and forewarn you, since there are among you tender and delicate subjects who need some dispensation, either for age or infirmity. But I return hearty thanks to God our Lord that I see many so careful of themselves, so anxious for self-improvement, that, far from these low and unworthy thoughts, they leave out of account the weak and needy among them, and have no eyes to see their peculiarities, because their gaze is fixed on themselves; they are ever complaining of themselves and thinking that they do less than all the others, and so they take them for their superiors and their betters, according to the advice of the Apostle St. Paul, each thinking the other his superior (Phil. ii. 3).”

He adds another piece of advice which is very good— not to take any account of those who need special allowances, nor cast an eye upon that, but fix our eyes on one or two of those whom we see to be the most fervent and exemplary in the house, and try to imitate them. And he relates an instance of one of his monks, which, he says, gave him great satisfaction. This monk came to him very early one morning, and said to him: “Woe is me, father, this night at matins I counted and considered thirty virtues in one of my brothers, and not one of them do I find in myself.” This is a very good practice, to look at and study our brothers’ virtues. ‘And be this the fruit of our discourse,” says the saint, “always to regard in others the height of their virtues, and not what is imperfect and deficient in them; but in ourselves, on the contrary, not anything that may be matter of vain presumption, but only what makes for true humility. For what advantage is it that you can work harder or fast more rigorously than another if that other surpasses you in virtue, is more humble, more patient, more charitable than you are? What matter does it make that he cannot fast or work as hard as you do? Henceforth always see in your brethren all the good that is in them, and that you have not; and in yourself do not look at the good that you think you have, but look how far you fall short of the attainment of perfection”—Esto magis sollicitus ut scias quid desit tibi. In this way we shall maintain ourselves in humility, and advance much in religious perfection.