17 — FORGETFULNESS AND SELF-DENIAL

Presence of God. — O Lord, You who give Yourself to us even as our food, teach me to give myself to souls even to total forgetfulness of self.

Meditation

1 — “Generous forgetfulness and strong self-denial” (Pius XII): without forgetfulness of self, even right intention would not be possible.

Precisely because we are so present to ourselves, so occupied and concerned with our ego, our interests, our comfort, so eager to be loved and to receive praise and esteem, a multitude of secondary intentions tries to creep into our actions.

We must “go out of ourselves and out of creatures,” as St. John of the Cross would say; above all, go out of that creature we love most—our own self.

If, for the contemplative ideal of union with God, the Saint points to the way of “nothing,” we can truly say that apostolic life asks no less, but also requires total self-denial, realized precisely by continually repeating to oneself: nothing, nothing, nothing of self.

Just as the missionary, to fulfill his vocation, must leave homeland, relatives, friends, and must abandon language, customs, and habits of his own country in order to adapt himself to those of the new one, so too—proportion kept—every apostle, even if he works in his own homeland, in his ordinary environment of work or life, must renounce many things.

Personal tastes, habits, cultural needs, education, and sensitivity must be generously set aside in order to adapt to others’ mentality and needs. Quiet, rest, and relief must give way to service of souls.

The apostle must not seek pleasant conversations, consoling friendships, agreeable occupations, or satisfying results. It may happen that at times he meets these things on his path, but even then he may not stop to enjoy them selfishly; he must use them as means for his apostolate and, in any case, he cannot and must not ever regulate his activity with a view to them.

The apostle is sent “to give,” not “to receive”; to sow, not to reap. Therefore he must know how to give his time, his work, his energies, and even himself, even in environments that offer nothing comforting, even to souls from whom he will never receive satisfaction or return.

2 — As Scripture says of the priest, he is “appointed for men” (Heb 5:1), and the same can be said of every apostle. The apostle is not for himself, for his career, for his own interest, but for souls, for the benefit of others in all that concerns their spiritual good.

Even if apostolate confers on him some authority or dignity, this is not for his honor or advantage, but only for the service of his brethren.

The only personal advantage he can and must seek from the exercise of his apostolate is his sanctification: this is the only right the apostle can claim, the only interest he may seek for himself; all the rest must be generously sacrificed to God and to souls.

A soul truly given to apostolate no longer keeps itself. Its strength, talents, time, health, life are God’s and neighbor’s. And having given itself, it can no longer belong to itself; it can no longer dispose of itself. It has, as it were, lost ownership of all it is and all it has.

Its program therefore is: to give oneself by forgetting oneself, and to forget oneself in order to give oneself more.

And this not only in moments of enthusiasm, in bright days when souls respond, when works flourish, when strength is vigorous, but also in moments of darkness, in gray days when everything seems to collapse under difficulties; even when the tired body asks some rest, work weighs heavily, energies diminish, and because of inner and outer struggles it is very hard to remain at one’s post.

Yes, even in hours of abandonment and trial, the apostle must continue to give himself with equal constancy and generosity.

If he did not do so willingly—that is, with true spirit of sacrifice—it would be impossible for some ill humor, discontent, reluctance, or impatience not to appear in his conduct, and this would greatly lessen both his ascent and his action.

But where can one find strength to remain always at the level of such a high gift of self? In the Eucharist. There Jesus gives Himself to us even to becoming our nourishment.

And if the apostle—called to prolong the Master’s mission—cannot imitate Him by literally giving himself as food to souls, he can at least imitate Him by putting himself at their disposal to the point of letting himself be “eaten” by them, that is, letting himself be consumed in their service.

Colloquy

“O Lord, make me understand well that my work has value for eternity in proportion to the love with which I do it, and not to the success it may or may not have. Even if I do not see its fruits, what does it matter, provided You see them? You want me to work in a spirit of faith without seeking my own satisfaction.

“I feel that I am mother of souls and that I must sacrifice myself for them with the greatest generosity, because the salvation of many may depend on my correspondence to grace. Lord, I am a poor little nothing, but I offer You everything.

“O Father, I offer You your divine Son. Take me and dispose of me for your greater glory.

“O Lord, You press me insistently and constantly toward an ever more generous, total sacrifice. I feel the need to give, to give myself to You, to reserve nothing for myself.

“Therefore I want to renew my offering to You so that You may take me wholly, transform me, and use me for your glory and for the salvation of souls; so that You may deign to complete in me what is lacking in your Passion, for the benefit of your Body, which is the Church, content to find in my day many practical occasions to carry out this offering” (cf. Sr. Carmela of the Holy Spirit, O.C.D.).

“O Lord, prayer and sacrifice make up all my strength; they are my invincible weapons, and I know by experience that, more than words, they can move hearts” (St. Thérèse of the Child Jesus).