Consideration XXII - EVIL HABITS

"Impius cum in profundum venerit, contemnit" (Prov. 18:3).

Point I

One of the greatest damages that the sin of Adam caused us was the evil inclination to sin. This made the Apostle weep, seeing himself driven by concupiscence toward those very evils he abhorred: "Video aliam legem in membris meis... captivantem me in lege peccati" (Rom. 7:23). And so it becomes so difficult for us, infected by this concupiscence and with so many enemies pushing us toward evil, to reach the blessed homeland without sin. Now, given the frailty we have, I ask: What would you say of a traveler who had to cross the sea in a great tempest with a half-broken boat, and who then wanted to load it with such weight that, even without a tempest and with a strong boat, it would be enough to sink it? What would you predict for this man's life? Now say the same of one with evil habits, who, having to cross the sea of this life (a sea in tempest, where so many are lost) in a weak and ruined boat, which is our flesh to which we are united, would then weigh it down with habitual sins. It is very difficult for such a one to be saved, because evil habits blind the mind, harden the heart, and thereby easily render him obstinate until death.

First, evil habits blind. And why do the Saints always seek light from God and tremble at the thought of becoming the worst sinners in the world? Because they know that if for a moment they lose the light, they can commit any wickedness. How is it that so many Christians have obstinately wished to live in sin until they have finally damned themselves? "Excaecavit eos malitia eorum" (Wis. 2:21). Sin took away their sight, and so they were lost. Every sin brings with it blindness; as sins increase, so does the blindness. God is our light; the more the soul withdraws from God, the more blind it remains. "Ossa eius implebuntur vitiis" (Job 20:11). Just as light cannot enter a vessel full of earth, so divine light cannot enter a heart full of vices.

And therefore one sees that certain abandoned sinners lose the light and go from sin to sin, and no longer even think of amending. "In circuitu impii ambulant" (Ps. 11). Having fallen, the wretches, into that dark pit, they can do nothing but sin; they speak of nothing but sin; they think of nothing but sinning; and they hardly recognize any longer that sin is evil. "Ipsa consuetudo mali," says St. Augustine, "non sinit peccatores videre malum, quod faciunt." So they live as if they no longer believed in God, paradise, hell, or eternity.

And so that sin which once caused horror, with evil habit causes horror no more. "Pone illos, ut rotam et sicut stipulam ante faciem venti" (Ps. 82:14). See, says St. Gregory, how easily a straw is moved by every breeze however light; so too you will see someone who before (before falling) resisted at least for some time and fought against temptation; but once evil habit is formed, he falls at once at every temptation, at every occasion to sin. And why? Because evil habit has taken away his light. St. Anselm says that the devil does with certain sinners as one does who keeps a bird tied with a string: he lets it fly, but when he wishes, he pulls it back to earth. Such, says the Saint, are those with evil habits: "Pravo usu irretiti ab hoste tenentur, volantes in eadem vitia deiiciuntur." Some, adds St. Bernardine of Siena, will continue to sin even without occasion. The Saint says that those with evil habits become like windmills, which "rotantur omni vento" — they turn at every breeze; and moreover they turn even when there is no grain to grind and even though the master does not wish them to turn. You will see a habitual sinner who, without occasion, goes on making evil thoughts, without pleasure and almost unwillingly, dragged by force of evil habit. St. John Chrysostom says: "Dura res est consuetudo, quae nonnunquam nolentes committere cogit illicita." Yes, because, as St. Augustine says, evil habit becomes a kind of necessity: "Dum consuetudini non resistitur, facta est necessitas." And as St. Bernardine adds, "usus vertitur in naturam"; so that just as it is necessary for man to breathe, so to those with evil habits, made slaves of sin, it seems necessary to sin. I have said "slaves": there are servants who serve by force with pay; slaves serve by force without pay. Some wretches reach this point — they reach the point of sinning without pleasure.

"Impius, cum in profundum venerit, contemnit" (Prov. 18:3). Chrysostom explains this precisely of the habitual sinner who, placed in that pit of darkness, despises corrections, sermons, censures, hell, God — despises everything. The wretch becomes like a vulture that, rather than leave the carcass, will sooner let itself be killed by the hunters upon it. Father Recupito relates that a man condemned to death, while going to the gallows, raised his eyes, saw a young woman, and consented to an evil thought. Father Gisolfo also relates that a blasphemer, likewise condemned to death, while thrown from the scaffold burst out in a blasphemy. St. Bernard goes so far as to say that for those with evil habits it is no longer useful to pray; one must rather weep for them as damned. But how can they escape from their precipice if they can no longer see? It would take a miracle of grace. The wretches will open their eyes in hell, when opening them will serve no purpose except to weep more bitterly over their folly.

Affections and Prayers

My God, You have distinguished me with Your benefits, favoring me more than others; I have distinguished myself with offenses, injuring You more than any other person I know. O sorrowful Heart of my Redeemer, who on the cross were so afflicted and tormented by the sight of my sins, give me by Your merits a vivid knowledge and sorrow for my sins. Ah, my Jesus, I am full of vices, but You are almighty; You can well make me full of Your holy love. In You, then, I trust, who are an infinite goodness and mercy. I repent, O supreme Good, of having offended You. Oh, would that I had died first and had never displeased You! I have forgotten You, but You have not forgotten me: I see this by the light You now give me. Since then You give me the light, give me also the strength to be faithful to You. I promise You to die a thousand times rather than ever turn my back on You again; but on Your help rest my hopes: "In te, Domine, speravi, non confundar in aeternum." In You I hope, my Jesus, that I shall never again see myself confounded in sin and deprived of Your grace.

To you too I turn, O Mary, my Lady: "In te, Domina, speravi, non confundar in aeternum." In your intercession I trust, O my hope, that I shall never again see myself an enemy of your Son. Ah, pray to Him to let me die first rather than abandon me to this supreme misfortune.

Point II

Moreover, evil habit hardens. "Cor durum efficit consuetudo peccandi," says Cornelius a Lapide. And God justly permits it as punishment for resistance to His calls. The Apostle says that the Lord "cuius vult miseretur, et quem vult indurat" (Rom. 9:18). St. Augustine explains: "Obduratio Dei est nolle misereri." It is not that God hardens the habitual sinner, but He withdraws grace as punishment for the ingratitude shown to His graces; and so the heart remains hard and made as of stone. "Cor eius indurabitur tanquam lapis, et stringetur quasi malleatoris incus" (Job 41:15). Hence it will happen that where others are moved and weep upon hearing the rigor of divine judgment, the pains of the damned, the Passion of Jesus Christ preached, the habitual sinner will be moved by none of it. He will speak of it and hear others speak of it with indifference, as if these were things that did not concern him; and under such blows he will become harder still. "Et stringetur quasi malleatoris incus."

Even sudden deaths, earthquakes, thunder, and lightning will no longer frighten him; rather than awaken him and bring him to his senses, they will more quickly lull him into that sleep of death in which he lies lost. "Ab increpatione tua, Deus Iacob, dormitaverunt" (Ps. 75:7). Evil habit gradually destroys even the remorse of conscience. To the habitual sinner the most enormous sins seem nothing. St. Augustine says: "Peccata quanvis horrenda, cum in consuetudinem veniunt, parva, aut nulla esse videntur." Doing evil naturally brings with it a certain shame, but St. Jerome says that habitual sinners lose even the shame of sinning: "Qui ne pudorem quidem habent in delictis." St. Peter compares the habitual sinner to a pig that wallows in the mud: "Sus lota in volutabro luti" (2 Pet. 2:22). Just as the pig, wallowing in the mire, does not smell the stench, so it happens with the habitual sinner: that stench that is noticed by everyone else, he alone does not notice. And since the mire has also taken away his sight, what wonder is it, says St. Bernardine, that he does not come to his senses even while God scourges him? "Populus immergit se in peccatis, sicut sus in volutabro luti; quid mirum si Dei flagellantis futura iudicia non cognoscit?" Hence it happens that instead of grieving over his sins, he rejoices in them, laughs at them, and boasts of them. "Laetantur, cum malefecerint" (Prov. 2:14). "Quasi per risum stultus operatur scelus" (Prov. 10:23). What signs are these of such diabolical hardness? St. Thomas of Villanova says they are all signs of damnation: "Induratio, damnationis indicium." My brother, tremble lest the same happen to you. If you have any evil habit, strive to leave it quickly, now that God calls you. And while your conscience stings you, be glad, because it is a sign that God has not yet abandoned you. But amend and leave quickly, for otherwise the wound will become gangrene and you will be lost.

Affections and Prayers

O Lord, how can I thank You as I ought for so many graces You have given me? How many times have You called me, and I have resisted? Instead of being grateful and loving You for having freed me from hell and called me with such love, I have continued to provoke Your anger, multiplying injuries against You. No, my God, I will outrage Your patience no longer; enough of offending You. Only You, who are infinite Goodness, could have borne with me until now. But I see that You can bear with me no longer — You are right. Pardon me, then, my Lord and my supreme Good, all the injuries I have done You, for which I repent with all my heart; and I resolve for the future to offend You no more. Must I continue always to provoke You? Ah, be appeased with me, O God of my soul — not for my merits, which deserve nothing but punishment and hell, but for the merits of Your Son and my Redeemer, on which I place all my hope. For the love then of Jesus Christ, receive me into Your grace and give me perseverance in Your love. Detach me from impure affections and draw me entirely to You. I love You, O supreme God, O supreme Lover of souls, who are worthy of infinite love. Oh, would that I had always loved You!

O Mary, my Mother, grant that this remaining life may serve me no longer to offend your Son, but only to love Him and to weep over the displeasures I have given Him.

Point III

Once the light is lost and the heart is hardened, it will morally follow that the sinner will make a bad end and die obstinate in his sin. "Cor durum habebit male in novissimo" (Sirach 3:27). The just continue to walk on the straight path: "Rectus callis iusti ad ambulandum" (Is. 26:7). On the contrary, those with evil habits always go in circles: "In circuitu impii ambulant" (Ps. 11:9). They leave sin for a while and then return to it. To these St. Bernard announces damnation: "Vae homini qui sequitur hunc circuitum." But that person will say: I intend to amend before death. But here lies the difficulty — that one with evil habits should amend, even if he reaches old age. The Holy Spirit says: "Adolescens iuxta viam suam, etiam cum senuerit, non recedet ab ea" (Prov. 22:6). The reason is, as St. Thomas of Villanova tells us, that our strength is very weak: "Et erit fortitudo nostra ut favilla stupae" (Is. 1:31). From which it follows, as the Saint says, that the soul deprived of grace cannot long avoid further sins: "Quo fit, ut anima a gratia destituta diu evadere ulteriora peccata non possit." But beyond this, what madness it would be for someone to keep gambling and voluntarily losing all his goods, hoping to recover everything in the last game! This is the madness of one who continues to live in sin and hopes to remedy everything on the last day of life. Can the Ethiopian or the leopard change the color of his skin? And how can he lead a good life who has formed a long habit of evil? "Si mutare potest Aethiops pellem suam, aut pardus varietates suas, et vos poteritis benefacere, cum didiceritis malum" (Jer. 13:23). Hence it happens that the habitual sinner in the end abandons himself to desperation and so ends his life. "Qui vero mentis est durae, corruet in malum" (Prov. 28:14).

St. Gregory, commenting on that passage from Job — "Concidit me vulnere super vulnus, irruit in me quasi gigas" (Job 16:15) — says: If someone is attacked by an enemy, at the first wound he receives perhaps he is still able to defend himself; but the more wounds he receives, the more he loses strength, until finally he is killed. So does sin: at the first and second time the sinner still has some strength (always by means of the grace that assists him), but if he then continues to sin, the sin becomes a giant — "irruit quasi gigas." On the other hand, the sinner, finding himself weaker and with so many wounds, how can he avoid death? Sin, in the words of Jeremiah, is like a great stone that oppresses the soul: "Et posuerunt lapidem super me" (Lam. 3:53). Now, says St. Bernard, it is as difficult for a habitual sinner to rise as it is for one who has fallen under a great rock and does not have the strength to remove it to free himself: "Difficile surgit, quem moles malae consuetudinis premit."

So then, the habitual sinner will say, am I without hope? No, you are not without hope, if you wish to remedy it. But an author well says that for the gravest illnesses, the gravest remedies are needed: "Praestat in magnis morbis a magnis auxiliis initium medendi sumere." If a sick man in danger of death who will not take remedies because he does not know the gravity of his illness were told by the doctor: Friend, you are a dead man if you do not take such and such medicine — what would the sick man answer? Here I am, he would say, ready to take anything; it is a matter of life. My Christian, I say the same to you, if you are habituated to some sin: you are sick, and you are one of those patients who, as St. Thomas of Villanova says, "raro sanantur"; you are close to being damned. But if you wish to cure yourself, there is a remedy; but you are not to wait for a miracle of grace. You must force yourself to remove occasions, to flee evil companions, to resist by commending yourself to God when you are tempted. You must take the means: confess often, read a spiritual book every day, take up devotion to Most Holy Mary, praying to her continually to obtain for you the strength not to fall again. You must force yourself, otherwise the Lord's threat against the obstinate will overtake you: "In peccato vestro moriemini" (John 8:21). And if you do not amend now that God gives you this light, you will hardly be able to amend later. Hear God calling you: "Lazare, exi foras." Poor sinner, already dead, come out of that dark pit of your evil life. Quickly answer, give yourself to God, and tremble lest this be the last call for you.

Affections and Prayers

Ah, my God, am I waiting for You to abandon me and send me to hell? Ah, Lord, wait for me, for I wish to change my life and give myself to You. Tell me what I must do, and I wish to do it. O blood of Jesus, help me. O advocate of sinners, Mary, help me. And You, Eternal Father, through the merits of Jesus and of Mary, have pity on me. I repent, O God of infinite goodness, of having offended You, and I love You above all things. Pardon me for the love of Jesus Christ, and give me Your love. Give me also a great fear of my ruin, should I offend You again. Light, my God, light and strength. I hope for everything from Your mercy. You have given me so many graces when I was going far from You; much more I hope for now that I return to You, resolved to love nothing but You. I love You, my God, my life, my all.

I love you too, my Mother Mary; to you I entrust my soul; by your intercession preserve it from ever again falling into the disgrace of God.