Consideration XIII - THE VANITY OF THE WORLD

"Quid prodest homini, si mundum universum lucretur, animae vero suae detrimentum patiatur?" (Matt. 16:26).

Point I

There was a certain ancient philosopher named Aristippus, who once, while traveling by sea, was shipwrecked and lost all his possessions; but arriving on shore, being very renowned for his learning, he was provided by the people of that place with everything he had lost. He then wrote to his friends at home that from his example they should strive to furnish themselves only with those goods that are not lost even in shipwreck. Now this is precisely what our relatives and friends who have passed to the other life are sending us word about: that we should strive to provide ourselves here in this life only with those goods that are not lost even at death. The day of death is called "Dies perditionis" ("Iuxta est dies perditionis," Deut. 29:21). A day of loss, because on that day all the goods of this earth — honors, riches, pleasures — must all be lost. Hence St. Ambrose says that we cannot call these goods our own, since we cannot take them with us to the other world; only virtues accompany us to the other life: "Non nostra sunt, quae non possumus auferre nobiscum; sola virtus nos comitatur."

What good is it, then, says Jesus Christ, to gain the whole world if, at death, by losing the soul, we lose everything? "Quid prodest homini, si mundum universum lucretur?" Ah, this great maxim has sent how many young men to shut themselves in cloisters, how many anchorites to live in the deserts, how many martyrs to give their lives for Jesus Christ! With this maxim St. Ignatius of Loyola drew many souls to God, and especially the noble soul of St. Francis Xavier, who was then in Paris, occupied with worldly thoughts. "Francis," the Saint said to him one day, "think that the world is a traitor, which promises and does not deliver. But even if it were to deliver what it promises you, it could never satisfy your heart. But let us suppose it did satisfy you — how long would this happiness of yours last? Can it last longer than your life? And in the end, what will you carry with you to eternity? Is there perhaps anyone there who took along a coin, or a servant for his comfort? Is there any king who took a thread of purple for his honor?" At these words St. Francis left the world, followed St. Ignatius, and became a saint. "Vanitas vanitatum" — so Solomon called all the goods of this world, after he had denied himself none of the pleasures that are on the earth, as he himself confessed: "Omnia quae desideraverunt oculi mei, non negavi eis" (Eccl. 2:10). Sister Margaret of St. Anne, a Discalced Carmelite and daughter of Emperor Rudolf II, used to say: "Of what use are kingdoms at the hour of death?" What a thing! The Saints tremble in thinking of the moment of their eternal salvation; Father Paul Segneri trembled, all frightened, asking his confessor: "What do you think, Father — will I be saved?" St. Andrew Avellino trembled and wept bitterly, saying: "Who knows whether I shall be saved!" By this thought St. Louis Bertrand was also so tormented that from terror he would leap out of bed at night, saying: "And who knows whether I shall be damned!" And sinners live condemned, and sleep, and jest, and laugh!

Affections and Prayers

Ah, my Jesus, my Redeemer, I thank You for making me see my folly and the evil I did in turning my back on You, who for me spent Your blood and Your life. No, You did not deserve to be treated by me as I treated You. See — if death were to come now, what would I find but sins and remorse of conscience, which would make me die in anguish? My Savior, I confess, I have done wrong, I have erred in leaving You, the supreme Good, for the miserable pleasures of this world; I repent of it with all my heart. Ah, for the sorrow that killed You on the cross, give me such sorrow for my sins that I may weep for the rest of my life over the wrongs I have done You. My Jesus, my Jesus, pardon me, for I promise You never to displease You again and to love You always. I am no longer worthy of Your love, because I have so greatly despised it in the past; but You have said that You love those who love You: "Ego diligentes me diligo" (Prov. 8). I love You; love me in return. I no longer wish to see myself in Your disgrace. I renounce all the grandeurs and pleasures of the world, provided You love me. My God, hear me for the love of Jesus Christ; He prays You not to cast me from Your heart. I consecrate myself entirely to You; I consecrate to You my life, my satisfactions, my senses, my soul, my body, my will, my freedom. Accept me; do not reject me, as I would deserve for having so many times rejected Your friendship. "Ne proiicias me a facie tua."

Most Holy Virgin, my Mother Mary, pray to Jesus for me; in your intercession I place all my trust.

Point II

"Statera dolosa in manu eius" (Hos. 12). We must weigh goods in the scales of God, not in those of the world, which deceive. The goods of the world are goods too wretched to satisfy the soul, and they quickly end. "Dies mei velociores fuerunt cursore, pertransierunt quasi naves poma portantes" (Job 9:25). The days of our life and of the pleasures of this earth pass and flee, and finally what remains? "Pertransierunt quasi naves." Ships do not even leave a trace of where they have passed. "Tanquam navis, quae pertransit fluctuantem aquam, cuius, cum praeterierit, non est vestigium invenire" (Wis. 5:10). Let us ask all the rich men, scholars, princes, and emperors who are now in eternity what they find of their pomp, delights, and grandeurs enjoyed on this earth. All answer: Nothing, nothing. Man, says St. Augustine: "Quid hic habebat, attendis, quid secum fert, attende." You look only at the goods that great man possessed; but see what he carries with him, now that he dies, if not a fetid corpse and a rag of clothing to rot with him? Of the great ones of the world who die, barely for a short time do we hear them spoken of, and then even their memory is lost. "Periit memoria eorum cum sonitu" (Ps. 9:7). And if the wretches then go to hell, there what do they do, what do they say? They weep and say: "Quid profuit nobis superbia, aut divitiarum iactantia?... transierunt omnia illa, tanquam umbra" (Wis. 5:8). What good have our pomp and riches done us, if now everything has passed like a shadow, and nothing remains for us but pain, weeping, and eternal desperation?

"Filii huius saeculi prudentiores filiis lucis sunt" (Luke 16:8). What a thing! How prudent the worldly are for earthly matters! What labors they undergo to gain that position, those goods! What diligence they employ to preserve the health of the body! They choose the surest means, the best doctor, the best remedies, the best air. And for the soul they are so negligent! And it is certain that health, positions, and goods must one day end; but the soul and eternity never end. "Intueamur," says St. Augustine, "quanta homines sustineant pro rebus, quas vitiose diligunt." What does that vengeful man, that thief, that impure man not suffer to reach his wicked goal? And then for the soul they will suffer nothing? O God, by the light of that candle lit at death, then in that time of truth the worldly know and confess their folly. Then everyone says: Oh, if I had left everything and made myself a saint! Pope Leo XI said at death: "Better had I been porter of my monastery than Pope." Similarly Pope Honorius III also said as he was dying: "Better had I remained in the kitchen of my convent washing dishes." Philip II, King of Spain, as he lay dying, called his son, and throwing back the royal robe, showed him his breast eaten by worms, and then said to him: "Prince, see how one dies, and how the grandeurs of the world end." And then he exclaimed: "Oh, if only I had been a lay brother in some religious order and not a monarch." At the same time he had a rope tied about his neck with a wooden cross, and arranged things for his death, and said to his son: "I wished, my son, that you should be present at this act, so that you may see how the world in the end treats even monarchs. And so their death is equal to that of the poorest in the world. In short, whoever lives best has the best place with God." This same son (who was Philip III), dying young at forty-two, said: "My subjects, in the sermon at my funeral, preach nothing but this spectacle you see. Say that being a king is of no use at death except to feel the greater torment of having been one." And then he exclaimed: "Oh, if only I had not been a king, and had lived in a desert serving God, for then I would go with greater confidence to present myself before His tribunal, and would not find myself at such risk of being damned!" But what use are these desires at the point of death, if not for greater pain and desperation to one who in life did not love God? St. Teresa therefore said: "One should not esteem what ends with life; the true life is to live in such a way that one does not fear death." Therefore, if we wish to see what the goods of this earth are, let us look at them from the deathbed; and then let us say: Those honors, those pleasures, those revenues will one day end; therefore we must strive to make ourselves saints, and rich in those goods alone that will come with us and render us content for all eternity.

Affections and Prayers

Ah, my Redeemer, You have suffered so many pains and ignominies for love of me; and I have so loved the pleasures and vanities of this earth that for them I have so many times trampled Your grace underfoot! But if when I despised You, You did not cease to pursue me, I cannot fear, O my Jesus, that You will cast me away now that I seek You and love You with all my heart, and I repent more for having offended You than if I had suffered every other misfortune. O God of my soul, from this day forward I wish to give You no displeasure, however slight. Make me understand what displeases You, and I will not do it for any good in the world; and make me understand what I must do to please You, and I am ready. I wish to love You truly. I embrace, Lord, all the pains and crosses that shall come to me from Your hands; give me the resignation that is needed. "Hic ure, hic seca."

Punish me in this life, so that in the next I may love You for eternity.

Mary, my Mother, to you I commend myself; never cease to pray to Jesus for me.

Point III

"Tempus breve est... qui utuntur hoc mundo, tanquam non utantur, praeterit enim figura huius mundi" (1 Cor. 7:31). What else is our life in this world but a scene that passes and quickly ends? "Praeterit figura huius mundi" — figure, that is, scene, comedy. "Mundus est instar scenae," says Cornelius a Lapide; "generatio praeterit, generatio advenit. Qui regem agit, non auferet secum purpuram. Dic mihi, o villa, o domus, quot dominos habuisti?" When the comedy ends, he who played the part of the king is no longer king; the master is no longer master. Now you possess that villa, that palace; but death will come, and others will be the masters.

"Malitia horae oblivionem facit luxuriae magnae" (Sirach 11:29). The dreadful hour of death makes all the grandeurs, nobilities, and splendors of the world be forgotten and end. Casimir, King of Poland, one day, while sitting at table with the great men of his kingdom, put his lips to a cup to drink, and died — and for him the scene was over. The Emperor Celsus, seven days after being elected, was killed — and the scene was over for Celsus. Ladislaus, King of Bohemia, a youth of eighteen, while awaiting his bride, the daughter of the King of France, and great festivities were being prepared — behold, one morning seized by a pain, he dies; and couriers are immediately dispatched to tell the bride to return to France, since for Ladislaus the scene was over. This thought of the vanity of the world made St. Francis Borgia a saint, who, as we considered above, at the sight of the Empress Isabella, dead in the midst of grandeurs and in the flower of her youth, resolved to give himself entirely to God, saying: "So then, thus do the grandeurs and crowns of this world end? From this day forward, then, I wish to serve a Master who cannot die."

Let us strive to live in such a way that we are not told at death, as the fool in the Gospel was told: "Stulte, hac nocte animam tuam repetent a te, et quae parasti cuius erunt?" (Luke 12:20). Hence St. Luke concludes: "Sic est qui sibi thesaurizat, et non est in Deum dives." And then he says: Strive to make yourselves rich, not in the goods of the world, but in God, in virtues and merits, which are goods that will be eternal with you in heaven: "Thesaurizate vobis thesauros in coelo, ubi neque aerugo neque tinea demolitur." And therefore let us attend to acquiring the great treasure of divine love. "Quid habet dives, si caritatem non habet? Pauper si caritatem habet, quid non habet?" says St. Augustine. If one has all the riches and does not have God, he is the poorest in the world. But the poor man who has God has everything. And who has God? He who loves Him: "Qui manet in caritate, in Deo manet, et Deus in eo" (1 John 4:16).

Affections and Prayers

Ah, my God, I do not wish the devil to have dominion over my soul any longer; You alone I wish to be its Master and to rule it. I wish to leave everything to acquire Your grace. I esteem it more than a thousand crowns and a thousand kingdoms. And whom should I love, if not You, infinitely lovable, infinite Good, infinite Beauty, Goodness, and Love? In the past I left You for creatures; this is, and will always be for me, a sorrow that pierces my heart — to have offended You, who have loved me so much. But since You have bound me, my God, with so many graces, no, I cannot bear to see myself deprived of Your love. Take, my Love, all my will and all my possessions; do with me what You please. If in the past I was disturbed by contrary events, I ask Your pardon for it. I will complain no more, my Lord, of Your dispositions; I know they are all holy and all for my good. Do, my God, what You will; I promise to be always content and always to thank You. Grant that I may love You, and I ask nothing more. What goods! What honors! What world? God, God — I want only God.

Blessed are you, O Mary, who in the world loved nothing but God! Obtain for me that I may accompany you at least in this life that remains to me. In you I trust.