Sermon LXXXVI. On the Virtue of Modesty

"In my bed by night I sought Him Whom my soul loveth."

There is no need for us, my brethren, to dwell any longer on the question as to why the soul seeks the Word, since the answer has already been given sufi5- ciently, and in truth at unnecessary length. Come, then, and let us proceed with the exposition of our present text, so far as it appertains to morals. And here, at the very beginning, observe the modesty of the Spouse, than which I know not if anything can be found more beautiful in human virtue. This, first of all, I want to take in my hands, so to speak, and to pluck it from its place, in order that I may present it as a lovely spiritual nosegay to our young religious. Not that modesty ought not to be preserved, and with all diligence, even in our old age, since it is the ornament of every age; but because the loveliness of this delicate virtue appears more conspicuously and to better advantage in youthful souls. What is there more amiable than a modest young man? How beautifully, how brilliantly does modesty shine in the conduct and on the countenance of youth, as a very gem amongst the virtues I How surely and infallibly does it prophesy of holiness to be 1 How faithfully does it reveal to us the man of noble character I To the young especially it is a rod of discipline which keeps down their evil passions, which restrains that levity of movement and action, and represses that arrogance of manner so characteristic of slippery adolescence. Where shall you find another remedy so efficacious as this against indecent language and all manner of moral turpitude? Modesty is own sister to continence. It is the most evident sign of dove-like simplicity. It is the lamp of a chaste soul, ever shining, so as to reveal instantly anything foul or unbefitting that attempts to invade her. And thus it is the expeller of evil, the defender of inborn purity, the special glory of the conscience, the guardian of fair fame, the seat and the first-fruits of virtue, the ornament of nature, the distinctive beauty of innocence. Even the very blush which modesty produces, what grace and loveliness does it not impart to the countenance!

So truly is modesty an innate ornament of the soul, that even those who have no fear of doing wrong are nevertheless ashamed to be discovered in their sins, according to the words of Christ, "Every one that doth evil hateth the light." The Apostle also tells us that "they who sleep, sleep in the night; and they who are drunk, are drunk in the night," because they desire to conceal in darkness their works of darkness, works truly unworthy of the day. There is, however, a vast difference between modesty of this kind and the modesty of the Spouse. For whereas the former feels no shame in the presence of interior defilement, except when it has been discovered, the latter is not content with hiding moral filthiness, but disowns and rejects it. Hence the Wise Man says, "There is a shame that bringeth sin, and there is a shame that bringeth glory and grace." Thus the Spouse seeks the Word with modesty, because she seeks Him in her bed and during the night, and this is the modesty which bringeth not sin but glory. She seeks the Word in order to the purification of her conscience; she seeks Him also that she may have testimony from the same, — that like St. Paul she may be able to say, "My glory is this, the testimony of my conscience." "In my bed by night I sought Him Whom my soul loveth." Here, my brethren, both the place and the time speak to us of modesty. What is so agreeable to a modest soul as privacy? Now privacy may be had in the bed and in the night-time. So, when we wish to pray, we are recommended to go into our chambers, clearly for the sake of privacy. This is manifestly intended for our protection, lest, whilst praying in public, human praise should rob us of the fruit of our prayer and render it inefficacious. But none the less, it teaches us modesty. For what is more a part of modesty than to avoid praise and self-glorification? It is clear, therefore, that He Who is the Child and the Master of modesty was looking to this virtue particularly when He bade us to pray in secret. What is so unbecoming, more especially in young people, as an ostentatious parade of piety? For youth is the age most apt and suitable for laying the foundations of a truly religious life, according to the testimony of the Prophet Jeremias, "It is good for a man when he hath borne the yoke of the Lord from his youth." The prayer which thou art about to offer shall be. excellently well commended if thou wilt make modesty its preface, and say with the Psalmist, "I am very young and despised, but I forget not Thy justifications."

But he who wishes to pray ought to select the proper time no less than the proper place. The hour of leisure is the fittest and the most convenient for this exercise. particularly at night, when all the world lies buried in slumber and deep silence prevails. It is then that our prayers mount up to heaven with the greatest purity and freedom. Hence the Prophet's invitation, "Arise give praise in the night, in the beginning of the watches: pour out thy heart like water before the Face of the Lord." With how much confidence does prayer ascend in the night, when its only witnesses are God Himself and the holy Angel who receives and presents it at the altar above! How pleasing and beautiful it looks, crimsoned, as it were, with the blush of modesty! How serene and calm it shows itself, disturbed by no clamour, distracted by no tumult I Lastly, how pure and unspotted it appears, defiled with no dust of earthly solicitude, tempted by no praise or flattery from beholders! For these reasons, therefore, the Spouse practised modesty as well as prudence in seeking the privacy of the night and of her bed when she wanted to pray, that is, when she desired to seek the Word. For prayer is nothing else but the seeking of the Word. Consequently I do not pray as I ought, if in my prayer I seek anything outside the Word which I do not seek for the sake of the Word, because in Him I have all. In Him I find the remedy for my wounds, the relief of my necessities, the supply of my wants, the grace of my advancement, in short, whatever it is expedient, whatever it is right, whatever it is necessary for a man to receive and to possess. I have no need, therefore, to ask for anything of the Word besides Himself, since in Him I have all I desire. For even when, in our temporal necessities, we appear to solicit temporal goods, if our object in asking them is, as it ought to be, the glory of the Word, in that case we are really seeking Him rather than them, because these are only sought for the sake of Him. What I say is nothing new to such souls as are wont to make use of all transitory things as a means of meriting the enjoyment of the Word.

Let us have the patience to investigate more closely still the privacy of this bed and this nocturnal hour, lest perchance some spiritual truth, which it would be well to bring to light, remains there as yet undiscovered. Well, then, if you will allow me to suppose that by the bed is designated human weakness, and by the darkness of night human ignorance, what can be more reasonable or more natural than that the Word, Who is the Power and the Wisdom of God, should be most earnestly sought as a divine remedy against both those evils inherent in our nature? For surely it is a most proper thing to oppose Power to weakness and Wisdom to ignorance. But lest any doubt should remain still in the minds of the more simple concerning the truth of this interpretation, let them hear what the Royal Prophet has to say on the same subject, "The Lord (doth) help him on his bed of sorrow: Thou hast turned all his couch in his sickness." This relates only to the bed. With regard to the night of our ignorance, can anything be clearer than the words of the same Prophet » where he says in another psalm, "They have not known nor understood; they walk on in darkness"? There can be no doubt that he is alluding here to the spiritual ignorance of the whole human race, and in which we have all been born. It is the same ignorance as I think, which the blessed Apostle acknowledges himself to have been born in, and boasts of having been rescued from, when he says, speaking of the Father, "WTio hath delivered us from the power of darkness." Hence in another place he writes, "We are not children of the night nor of darkness." And to the faithful in general he says, "Walk then as children of the light."¹

Footnotes

1. This sermon is incomplete, as may be inferred from its unusual brevity and the absence of the customary conclusion. Likely enough, it was interrupted in the delivery by one of those paroxysms of pain or fainting-fits which marked the close of the holy Preacher's life. Death came to him oa August 20th, 1153, stilling one of the sweetest voices that ever gave utterance to human thought. It was only fitting that the last word of the Doctor of love should be of love. In reply to his brethren's request that he should ask God to remain longer with them, he said, "I know not to which I ought to yield, to the love of my children which urges me to stay here or to the love of my God which draws me to Him." Thus did he endure in himself that holy strife whereof he speaks in many of his discourses, and which St. Paul also experienced when he found himself "straitened between two" and knew not "which. to choose" (Phil. i. 23). — (Translator.) ↩