Chapter XI

Caritas non quaerit quae sua sunt.

He who loves Jesus Christ seeks to detach himself from all created things.

He who wishes to love Jesus Christ with his whole heart must drive from his heart everything that is not God but is self-love. This is the meaning of non quaerere quae sua sunt, of not seeking oneself, but only what pleases God. And this is what the Lord demands of every one of us when he says: Diliges Dominum Deum tuum ex toto corde tuo (Matth. XXII, 37).

To love God with the whole heart, two things are necessary: first, to remove the earth from it; second, to fill it with holy love. Hence the heart in which some earthly affection dwells can never be entirely God's. St. Philip Neri used to say that however much love we give to creatures, that much we take away from God. But how is the heart purged of earth? It is purged by mortifications and by detachment from created things. Certain souls complain that they seek God and do not find him; let them listen to what St. Teresa tells them: "Detach your heart from creatures, and seek God, and you will find him."

The deception lies in this: some wish to become saints, but in their own way. They wish to love Jesus Christ, but according to their own inclination, without leaving their amusements, their vanity in dress, their more delicate foods. They love God, but if they fail to obtain a certain position they live in unrest. If their reputation is touched, they become all fire. If they do not recover from some illness, they lose patience. They love God, but do not leave their attachment to riches, to worldly honors, and to the vanity of being esteemed as noble, as learned, as better than others. Such people go to prayer and to Communion, but because they bring hearts full of earth, they draw little profit from them. To such people the Lord does not even speak, because he sees that his words would be wasted. This is precisely what he said one day to St. Teresa: "I would speak to many souls, but the world makes so much noise in their ears that my voice cannot be heard by them. Oh, if they would but withdraw a little from the world!" He, then, who is full of earthly attachments is not even capable of hearing the voice of God speaking to him. But wretched is the one who keeps attachment to the sensible goods of this earth; it will not be difficult for him, blinded by them, one day to cease loving Jesus Christ, and in order not to lose these passing goods, to lose God, the infinite good, for eternity. St. Teresa said: "It rightly follows that whoever goes after lost goods is himself lost."

St. Augustine writes that the Emperor Tiberius wished the Roman Senate to include Jesus Christ among the gods, but the Senate refused to admit him, saying that this was a proud God who wished to be worshiped alone, without companions. All true: God wishes to be alone in being worshiped and loved by us — not from pride, but because he deserves it, and also because of the love he bears us. Because he loves us greatly, he wants all our love, and therefore he is jealous of seeing others take part in those hearts which he wants entirely for himself. Zelotipus est Iesus, says St. Jerome, and therefore he does not want us to place our affection on anything other than him. And if he ever sees that some created object has a share in a heart, he in a certain way envies it, as the Apostle St. James writes, because he does not tolerate rivals in love, but wishes to be loved alone: An putatis quia inaniter Scriptura dicat: Ad invidiam concupiscit spiritus qui habitat in vobis? (Iac. IV, 5). In the Song of Songs the Lord praises his spouse, saying: Hortus conclusus soror mea sponsa (Cant. IV, 12). He calls her an enclosed garden, because the soul-spouse keeps her heart closed to every earthly love in order to preserve within it only the love of Jesus.

Does not Jesus deserve all our love? Ah, he deserves it all too much, both for his goodness and for the affection he bears us. The saints well understood this, and therefore St. Francis de Sales said: "If I knew that there was a single fiber in my heart that was not God's, I would tear it out at once."

David desired to have wings free from the birdlime of every worldly affection, so as to fly and rest in God: Quis dabit mihi pennas sicut columbae, et volabo, et requiescam? (Ps. LIV, 7). Many souls would like to see themselves loosed from every earthly bond to fly to God, and they would indeed make great flights in holiness if they detached themselves from everything in this world; but because they keep some small disordered affection and do not force themselves to be rid of it, they remain always languishing in their misery without ever lifting a foot from the ground. St. John of the Cross said: "The soul that remains attached with affection to anything, however small, will never arrive at divine union, no matter how many virtues it may have; for it matters little whether a bird is tied by a thick rope or by a thin thread — as long as it does not break it, it will always remain tied and can never fly. Oh, what a pity it is to see certain souls rich in spiritual exercises, virtues, and divine favors, but who, for lack of courage to finish with some small attachment, cannot arrive at divine union, when all that remained was to give one strong flight and break that thread! For once the soul is freed from every created affection, God cannot but communicate himself to it in fullness."

Whoever wishes God to be entirely his must give himself entirely to God. Dilectus meus mihi, said the sacred spouse, et ego illi (Cant. II, 16): my beloved has given himself entirely to me, and I have given myself entirely to him. Jesus Christ, because of the love he bears us, wants all our love; and if he does not have it all, he is never content. Therefore St. Teresa wrote to a prioress of her monasteries: "Endeavor to raise souls detached from all created things, for you are raising them to be spouses of a King so jealous that he wishes them to forget even themselves." St. Mary Magdalene de' Pazzi took a little spiritual book from one of her novices, for no other reason than that she noticed the novice had an excessive attachment to it. Many souls make mental prayer, visit the Blessed Sacrament, and receive Communion frequently; but because they bring hearts attached to some earthly affection, they make little or no advance in perfection; and if they continue living this way, not only will they always be miserable, but they stand in danger of losing everything.

We must therefore pray to God with David that he purge our hearts from every earthly attachment: Cor mundum crea in me Deus (Ps. L, 12): otherwise we can never be entirely his. He himself has made it clear that whoever does not renounce everything in this world cannot be his true disciple: Qui non renuntiat omnibus quae possidet non potest meus esse discipulus (Luc. XIV, 33). Therefore, when the ancient Desert Fathers received any young man who came to join their company, this was the question they asked him: Affersne cor vacuum, ut possit illud Spiritus sanctus implere? — Do you bring an empty heart, so that the Holy Spirit can fill it? The same thing God said to St. Gertrude when she prayed him to make her understand what he wished of her: "I want nothing else from you but a heart empty of creatures." We must therefore say to God with a strong and resolute spirit: Lord, I prefer you to everything — to health, to riches, to dignities, to honors, to praises, to learning, to consolations, to hopes, to desires, and even to those very graces and gifts I might receive from you. In short, I prefer you to every created good that is not you, my God. Whatever gift you give me, my God, apart from yourself, is not enough for me. You alone I want, and nothing more.

Into a heart detached from every affection for created things, divine love immediately enters and fills it. Furthermore, St. Teresa said: "Once the harmful occasions are removed from our eyes, the soul immediately turns to loving God." Yes, because the soul cannot live without loving: it must either love the Creator or creatures; if it does not love creatures, it will certainly love the Creator. In short, we must leave all to gain all: Totum pro toto, says Thomas a Kempis. St. Teresa, as long as she nourished a certain affection — though innocent — for a relative of hers, was not entirely God's; but when she then took courage and freed herself from that attachment, she merited that Jesus Christ should say to her: "Now, Teresa, you are entirely mine, and I am entirely yours." It is already too little, one heart, to love this God so loving and so lovable, who deserves an infinite love; and yet we wish to divide this heart between creatures and God? The Venerable Louis de Ponte used to be ashamed to say to God: "Lord, I love you more than everything — more than all riches, honors, friends, relatives" — because it seemed to him as if he were saying to God: "Lord, I love you more than mud, more than smoke, more than the worms of the earth."

The prophet Jeremiah says that the Lord is all goodness toward whoever seeks him: Bonus est Dominus animae quaerenti illum (Thr. III, 25). But this is understood of the soul that seeks God alone. O happy loss! O happy gain! To lose the worldly goods that do not satisfy the heart and soon come to an end, in order to gain the supreme and eternal good, which is God! It is told of a devout hermit that while a prince had come to that forest, he was running through the desert. The prince, seeing him wandering about, asked who he was and what he was doing. He answered: "And you, my lord, what are you doing in this desert?" The prince said: "I am hunting animals." And the hermit replied: "And I am hunting for God." And so he took his leave and continued on his way.

This, even in this present life, must be our sole thought, our sole intent: to go seeking God in order to love him, and his will in order to fulfill it, dismissing from the heart every attachment to creatures. And when some earthly good presents itself to draw our love, let us be prepared to say: Regnum mundi et omnem ornatum saeculi contempsi propter amorem Domini mei Iesu Christi. And what are all the dignities and grandeurs of this world but smoke, mud, and vanity, which with death all vanish? Blessed is he who can say: "My Jesus Christ, for love of you I have left everything: you are my only love; you alone are enough for me."

Ah, when divine love takes full possession of a soul, that soul of itself — always, of course, with the help of divine grace — strives to strip itself of every earthly thing that can hinder it from being entirely God's. St. Francis de Sales said that when a house is on fire, all the furniture is thrown out the windows — meaning that when a person gives himself entirely to God, without the exhortation of preachers or confessors, of his own accord he seeks to rid himself of every earthly affection.

Father Segneri the Younger said that divine love is a thief who easily strips us of everything, so as to let us possess nothing but God. A certain good man, having renounced his possessions and already become poor for love of Jesus Christ, was asked by a friend how he had been reduced to such poverty; he drew from his pocket the little book of the Gospels and said: "Here, this is what has stripped me of everything." The Holy Spirit says: Si dederit homo omnem substantiam domus suae pro dilectione, quasi nihil despiciet eam (Cant. VIII, 7). Ah, when a soul places all its love in God, it despises everything — riches, pleasures, dignities, estates, kingdoms — and wants nothing but God; and it says and repeats always: My God, you alone I want, and nothing more. St. Francis de Sales writes: "The pure love of God consumes everything that is not God, in order to convert all things into itself; for everything that is done for the love of God is love."

The sacred spouse said: Introduxit me in cellam vinariam, ordinavit in me caritatem (Cant. II, 4). This wine cellar, writes St. Teresa, is divine love, which when it takes possession of a heart so intoxicates it with itself that it makes it forget all created things. The drunkard is as if dead in his senses: he does not see, does not hear, does not speak; and such becomes a soul intoxicated with divine love — it almost no longer has any feeling for the things of the world; it wants to think of nothing but God, to speak of nothing but God, to do nothing but love and please God. In the Song of Songs the Lord commands that his beloved who sleeps not be awakened: Ne suscitetis neque evigilare faciatis dilectam (Cant. II, 7). This blessed sleep enjoyed by the spouse-souls of Jesus Christ, says St. Basil, is nothing other than summa rerum omnium oblivio — a virtuous and voluntary forgetfulness of all created things, in order to attend only to God and be able to say, as St. Francis said: Deus meus et omnia! My God — what riches, what dignities, what worldly goods! You are my all, and my every good. Thomas a Kempis writes: "Deus meus et omnia: O sweet word — My God, my all. To him who understands, enough has been said; and to him who loves, it is sweet to repeat always: Deus meus et omnia, Deus meus et omnia."

So then, to arrive at perfect union with God, a total detachment from creatures is necessary. And to come to particulars, we must detach ourselves from disordered affection for relatives.

Jesus Christ said: Si quis venit ad me, et non odit patrem suum et matrem et uxorem et filios et fratres et sorores, adhuc autem et animam suam, non potest meus esse discipulus (Luc. XIV, 26). And why this hatred of relatives? Because often, as regards the profit of the soul, we have no greater enemies than our own family: Et inimici hominis domestici eius (Matth. X, 36). St. Charles Borromeo said that whenever he went to the home of his relatives he always returned cooled in spirit. And Father Antonio Mendoza, when asked why he did not wish to visit his relatives' home, answered: "Because I know from experience that in no place do religious lose so much devotion as in the home of their relatives."

Then, when it comes to the choice of state of life, it is certain, as St. Thomas Aquinas teaches, that we are not bound to obey our parents. If a young man is called to become a religious and his parents oppose it, he is obliged to obey God, not his parents, who, because of their own interests and personal ends, as St. Thomas himself says, oppose our spiritual good: Frequenter amici carnales adversantur profectui spirituali. And they are content, writes St. Bernard, that their children should be damned rather than leave the house.

And it is a marvel, in this matter, to see certain fathers and mothers, even God-fearing ones, blinded by passion, laboring and leaving no means untried to impede the vocation of a child who wishes to become a religious — something that, except in the rarest of cases, cannot be excused from grave fault. But someone will say: Then if that young man does not become a religious, can he not be saved? Then do all those who remain in the world damn themselves? I answer: Those who are not called by God to the religious life will save themselves in the world by fulfilling the obligations of their state; but those who are called and do not obey God could indeed save themselves, but will with difficulty do so, because they will lack those special helps which the Lord had prepared for them in the religious state, and without those helps they will not manage to save themselves. The theologian Habert writes that he who does not obey the divine vocation remains in the Church like a limb displaced from its proper position, which with great difficulty can perform its function and consequently obtain salvation: Non sine magnis difficultatibus poterit saluti suae consulere manebitque in corpore Ecclesiae velut membrum suis sedibus motum, quod aegre servire potest et cum deformitate. And he concludes: Licet absolute loquendo salvari possit, difficulter tamen ingredietur viam et apprehendet media salutis.

The choice of state of life is called by Father Louis of Granada the master wheel: in a clock, when the master wheel is damaged, the entire clock is thrown out of order; and so, with respect to our salvation, when the state of life is chosen wrongly, the whole life will be disordered. So many poor young people have lost their vocation because of their parents and then come to a bad end, and they themselves have been the ruin of their families. A certain young man lost his religious vocation through the instigation of his father, but then, coming to great conflicts with the same father, he killed him with his own hand and died on the scaffold. Another young man who lived in a seminary was likewise called by God to leave the world; neglecting his vocation, he first abandoned the devout life he had been leading — prayer, Communions — then he gave himself over to vice, and finally one night, leaving the house of a wicked woman, he was killed by a rival. Several priests rushed to the scene, but they found him already dead. And how many similar examples could I cite here!

But let us return to the point. St. Thomas Aquinas exhorts those who are called to a more perfect life not to take counsel on this matter with their relatives, for in such a matter they become enemies: Ab hoc consilio amovendi sunt carnis propinqui... Propinqui enim in hoc negotio amici non sunt, sed inimici, iuxta sententiam Domini: Inimici hominis domestici eius. And if in following the call to a more perfect state children are not bound to take counsel with their parents, even less are they bound to await their permission, or even to ask it, whenever they can reasonably fear that it will be unjustly denied and their vocation thereby impeded. St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Peter of Alcantara, St. Francis Xavier, and St. Louis Bertrand and many others entered the religious life without even informing their parents.

Moreover, it must be noted that just as one who abandons God's vocation to please his relatives places his eternal salvation in great danger, so too does one who, in order not to displease his relatives, takes up the ecclesiastical state without a divine vocation place his eternal salvation in great danger.

Three are the signs by which a true vocation to so sublime a state is recognized: learning, the aim of attending solely to God, and goodness of life. But speaking here especially of goodness, the Council of Trent ordered that bishops should not promote to sacred orders any but those who have already been proven in good life: Subdiaconi et diaconi ordinentur, habentes bonum testimonium et in minoribus ordinibus probati (Sess. XXIII, cap. 13).

The reason is given by St. Thomas: because the candidate for ordination is, with each sacred order, destined for the most exalted ministry of serving Jesus Christ in the Sacrament of the altar; hence the saint says that the holiness of the cleric must surpass the holiness of the religious: Quia per sacrum ordinem aliquis deputatur ad dignissima ministeria, quibus ipsi Christo servitur in Sacramento altaris; ad quod requiritur maior sanctitas interior quam requirat etiam religionis status. Furthermore, he adds — and here he speaks not so much of those already ordained as of those to be ordained, since he says that sacred orders praeexigunt sanctitatem; the word praeexigunt means that the subject must be holy before being ordained — and he assigns the difference between the religious state and the state of sacred orders, precisely because in the religious life vices are purged, but to assume sacred orders the person must already be found purged through a holy life. Here are the words of the Angelic Doctor: Ordines sacri praeexigunt sanctitatem, sed status religionis est exercitium ad sanctitatem, unde pondus ordinum imponendum parietibus iam per sanctitatem desiccatis; sed pondus religionis desiccat parietes, idest homines ab humore vitiorum. Moreover, St. Thomas likewise explains: Ut sicut illi qui ordinem suscipiunt super plebem constituuntur gradu ordinis, ita et superiores sint merito sanctitatis. And this merit of holiness the saint requires before ordination, since he calls it necessary not only so that the ordained may worthily exercise his orders, but also so that the candidate may be worthily numbered among the ministers of Jesus Christ: Et ideo praeexigitur gratia quae sufficiat ad hoc, quod digne connumerentur in plebem Christi. And finally he concludes: Sed confertur in ipsa susceptione ordinis amplius gratiae munus per quod ad maiora reddantur idonei.

In such a case, then, when the candidate for ordination lacks the proven experience of a good life, not only does the subject who is ordained sin gravely, but so too does the bishop who promotes him to sacred orders without the due proof by which he has become morally certain of the candidate's good life. The confessor also sins gravely who absolves such a habituated candidate who, without a long proof of his good life, wishes to receive sacred orders. And those parents also sin gravely who, knowing the bad life of their sons, commit themselves to having them receive sacred orders for their own purposes of helping the family.

The ecclesiastical state was not instituted by Jesus Christ to help the households of the laity, but to promote the glory of God and the salvation of souls. Some imagine the ecclesiastical state as if it were a secular office or trade for advancing in honors or temporal goods, but they err; and therefore when relatives come to importune the bishop to ordain someone who is ignorant or of bad morals, giving as their reason that the family is poor and they do not know what else to do, the bishop should answer them: "No, my son, the ecclesiastical state was not made to relieve the poverty of families, but for the good of the Church." And so he must dismiss them entirely and give them no further hearing, since such unworthy subjects ordinarily prove to be the ruin not only of their own souls, but also of their families and their communities.

And speaking of those priests who live in their own homes, and whose relatives would have them devote themselves not so much to the duties of their ministry as to advancing the family through income and honors, they should answer them what Jesus Christ answered his divine Mother: Nesciebatis quia in his quae Patris mei sunt oportet me esse? (Luc. II, 49). They should therefore answer: "I am a priest; my duty is not to make money and secure honors, nor to manage the household, but to live in retirement, to pray, to study, and to help souls." When, however, some pressing necessity arises to help the family, he should help as much as he can, but without abandoning his principal duty, which is to attend to his own sanctification and that of others.

Furthermore, whoever wishes to be entirely God's must be detached from worldly esteem.

How many, because of this accursed love of esteem, draw away from God, and how many even lose him! For example, if they hear someone speak of some fault of theirs, what do they not do to justify themselves and make others believe it is falsehood and calumny? If then they do some good, what do they not do to make it known to all? They would like the whole world to know about it so as to be praised. The saints do not act this way; they would wish the whole world to know their faults, so as to be held for the wretches they consider themselves to be; and on the other hand, if they do some act of virtue, they would wish God alone to know it, since it is God alone they desire to please; and therefore they so love the hidden life, mindful of the teachings of Jesus Christ, who said: Te autem faciente eleemosynam, nesciat sinistra tua quid faciat dextera tua (Matth. VI, 3). And in verse 6: Tu autem cum oraveris intra in cubiculum tuum, et clauso ostio, ora Patrem tuum in abscondito.

Above all, we must have detachment from ourselves — that is, from our own will.

He who conquers himself will easily conquer all other resistances. Vince teipsum — conquer yourself — was the admonition St. Francis Xavier habitually gave to all. And Jesus Christ said: Si quis vult post me venire abneget semetipsum (Matth. XVI, 24). Here is where all that we have to do to become saints consists: to deny ourselves and not follow our own will: Post concupiscentias tuas non eas, et a voluntate tua avertere (Eccli. XVIII, 30). And this, said St. Francis of Assisi, is the greatest gift one can receive from God: to conquer oneself by denying one's own will. St. Bernard writes that if all men opposed their own will, no one would ever be damned: Cesset propria voluntas, et infernus non erit. The same saint writes that one's own will can make even your good works become defective for you: Grande malum propria voluntas, qua fit ut bona tua tibi bona non sint. For example, if a penitent wished to do some mortification — a fast, a discipline — contrary to the will of his spiritual father, that mortification done to follow his own will becomes a fault. But wretched is the one who lives a slave to his own will! For he will desire many things and be unable to obtain them; and he will refuse to endure many things displeasing to him, yet be forced to endure them: Unde bella et lites in vobis? nonne hinc? ex concupiscentiis vestris quae militant in membris vestris? Concupiscitis et non habetis (Iac. IV, 1-2).

The first war comes from the appetite for sensual pleasures: let us remove the occasion, mortify the eyes, commend ourselves to God, and the war will cease. The second war comes from the desire for riches: let us strive to love poverty, and the war will cease. The third war comes from the ambition for honors: let us love humility and the hidden life, and the war will cease. The fourth war, and the most harmful, comes from our own will: let us resign ourselves in everything that happens by God's will, and the war will cease. St. Bernard writes that when we see a person disturbed, the cause of his disturbance is nothing other than his inability to satisfy his own will at that moment: Unde turbatio, says the saint, nisi quia propriam voluntatem sequimur? Of this the Lord once complained to St. Mary Magdalene de' Pazzi, saying: "Certain souls want my spirit, but as it pleases them, and therefore they render themselves incapable of receiving it."

We must therefore love God as it pleases God, not as it pleases us. God wishes the soul to be stripped of everything so that he may unite it to himself and fill it with his divine love. St. Teresa writes: "The prayer of union seems to me nothing other than an almost total dying to all the things of the world, in order to enjoy God alone. What is certain is that the more we empty ourselves of creatures by detaching from them for love of God, the more he will fill us with himself, and the more united we shall be with him." Many spiritual persons would like to arrive at union with God, but then they do not want the adversities God sends them: they do not want the infirmities that afflict them, the poverty they suffer, the affronts they receive; but by not resigning themselves, they will never arrive at perfect union with God. Let us hear what St. Catherine of Genoa said: "To arrive at union with God, the adversities God sends us are necessary, for through them he works to consume in us all our evil movements, both interior and exterior. And therefore all contempt, infirmities, poverty, temptations, and other contrary things are all supremely necessary for us, so that we may fight and, by way of victories, our evil movements may be so extinguished that we no longer feel them; indeed, until adversities no longer seem bitter but sweet for God's sake, we shall never arrive at divine union."

I add here the practice that St. John of the Cross teaches us. The saint says that for perfect union "a total mortification of the senses and the appetites is necessary. For the senses: whatever pleasure presents itself, if it is not purely for the glory of God, reject it at once for love of Jesus Christ; for example, if a desire arises to see or hear things that do not lead us more to God, do without them. For the appetites: strive always to incline oneself toward what is worse, toward what is most disagreeable, toward what is poorest, desiring nothing but to suffer and to be despised."

In short, whoever truly loves Jesus Christ loses his affection for all earthly goods and seeks to strip himself of everything in order to keep himself united to Jesus Christ alone. Toward Jesus are all his desires; of Jesus he always thinks; for Jesus he always sighs; and to Jesus alone, in every place, at every time, on every occasion, he seeks to give pleasure. But to arrive at this, we must continually strive to empty the heart of every affection that is not for God.

I ask: What does it mean for a soul to give itself entirely to God? It means, first, to avoid everything that displeases God and to do what pleases him most. It means, second, to accept without exception everything that comes from his hands, however hard and disagreeable it may be. It means, third, to prefer in all things the will of God to our own desires. This is what it means to be entirely God's.

Affections and Prayers

Ah, my God and my all, I hear that you, despite my ingratitude and negligence in serving you, continue to call me to your love. Here I am: I will resist no more. I wish to leave everything to be entirely yours. I wish to live no longer for myself. Too greatly have you obliged me to love you. My soul has fallen in love with you, my Jesus, and for you it sighs. And how can I love anything else, after having seen you die of sorrow on a cross to save me? How can I behold you dead, consumed by sufferings, and not love you with all my heart? Yes, I love you, my dear Redeemer; I love you with all my soul, and I desire nothing but to love you in this life and for all eternity.

My love, my hope, my strength, and my consolation, give me the strength to be faithful to you. Give me light, and make me know from what I must detach myself; and give me the strength, for in all things I wish to obey you.

O love of my soul, I offer myself and give myself entirely to you, to satisfy the desire you have to unite yourself with me, so that I may be entirely united with you, my God and my all. Ah, come, my Jesus, take possession of all of me, and draw to yourself all my thoughts and all my affections.

I renounce all my appetites, all my consolations, and all created things: you alone are enough for me. Give me the grace to think of nothing but you, to desire nothing but you, to seek nothing but you, my beloved and my only good.

Mother of God, Mary, obtain for me holy perseverance.