Volume I, Treatise I, Chapter XV

That It Is Very Advantageous to Consider and Often to Ask Ourselves, for What End We Entered into Religion

ANOTHER means, which may assist us very much in acquiring perfection, is that made use of by St. Bernard himself. He had always in his thoughts, says the author of his Life, and often in his mouth, these words: “Bernard, Bernard, for what art thou come hither?” St. Arsenius often asked himself the same question, and often entering into himself, demanded an account of his own actions. “Arsenius,” said he, “wherefore hast thou left the world? What was thy intention in quitting it. and entering into religion? Was it not to apply thyself wholly to please God, and not to be at all solicitous to procure the esteem and good will of men? Be then serious and diligent, in carrying on the design thou hadst at that time, and value not what opinion men may have of thee. All desire of honour, praise, and vanity is, properly speaking, that world thou hast renounced. Do not suffer thy heart to be seized anew with these follies; for it will be of no service to keep thy body shut up in a cloister, if thy heart still sighs and longs for the esteem of men, and so0 hurries thee continually back again to the world.” Thus did these great saints encourage and fortify themselves; and so should we in like manner animate and strengthen ourselves against all the difficulties we can meet with in religion. When you find a repugnance to obey a superior in what he orders, encourage yourself by these or the like words: ‘ Wherefore art thou entered into religion?” Was it to do thy own will? Was it not rather to submit it to the will of another? Wherefore dost thou then pretend to follow thy own? Whenever you find that any ordinary effects of poverty molest you, encourage yourself in these terms: Art thou come hither to seek thy own ease and convenience, and not to suffer the least want of anything? Dost thou not remember that thou camest to religion. to be poor, and to suffer the want of many things, as one truly poor? Wherefore then dost thou complain? When you imagine that others have not a sufficient regard and esteem for you, console yourself by often saying: Hast thou entered into religion to be respected, or rather hast thou not entered it to be neglected and forgotten by all men, not at all regarding nor valuing the opinion and esteem of the world? Why dost thou now refuse that which thou camest hither to seek? Wherefore wilt thou run after that which thou hast once quitted? Thou camest not to do thy own will, but to be truly poor, to live in want of all sorts of conveniences, and to desire to be neglected, and scorned by men; this is to be a true religious, this is to be dead to the world, and to live wholly to God.

Let us then often call to mind, that it is for this end we entered into religion, and that it will not at all profit us to bein religion, unless we perform what we came for. It is not the place, but our good lives, that must make us saints. The great St. Austin treats this point excellently well in«a sermon, wherein he addresses himself to those religious, who live in the desert. “Behold,” says he, ‘“‘ we are got into solitude, we are got into the desert: yet, it is not the place, but our good works that can make us saints; it is these will sanctify the place, and us too. Do not then trust to the holiness of the place; we may sin in all places, and may everywhere meet with our damnation. For the angels sinned in heaven, Adam in paradise; and you know there was no place could be more holy than these. It is not then the place that makes the saints; for if the place could sanctify those that live in it, neither man. nor angels could ever have fallen from their dignities.” (Ser. xxvii. ad frat. in Erm.) I say the same to you: do not imagine that all the work is done, and that you are already out of all danger, because you are become a religious; for it will avail you nothing to be a religious, unless you do those things, for which you have entered into religion; for you are not come thither, to be a man of great learning, nor to become a great preacher, but solely and purely to become a true and good religious, and to aspire continually alter perfection. It imports but little whether you are more or less learned, or whether you preach with greater or less eloquence; but that which is of the greatest importance is, that you become a good and perfect religious, and if that be not the thing we aim at, and labour to attain, what is it we do? And what have we done all this while if we have not done this? And to what have we applied our minds, if we have not studied and endeavoured to attain that, for which only, and for no other end, we are come hither? Wherefore examine your conscience, and ask yourself often this question; ‘Friend, for what art thou come hither?” (Matthew 26:50) What art, or what profession, could I have made choice of, wherein I should not have rendered myself perfect, during the same time I have been in religion? I have made choice of the profession of religious, and hitherto I have advanced little or nothing in it: so many years are now past, since I was admitted into this school of virtue, and I have not yet learned the first rudiments of it; I am yet to learn the smallest and lowest degree of humility. Others become good philosophers, and good divines in seven years’ space; and I, after s0 many years, have not yet learned to be a good religious. How easy were it, notwithstanding, for us to be so, if we would but apply with the same care and labour to acquire true virtue, that we do to become eminent in learning.

Many, says St. Bernard (Lib. de Cons. ca. 2), run after the splendour and vanity of human learning; and how very few are there, that study the purity and holiness of a good life? But if men would apply themselves with the same fervour to virtue, as they do to be eminent in profane sciences, they would find the acquisition of it more easy, and its possession much more advantageous. And yet, would it be at all surprising, if, in acquiring the science of the cross, and in securing our eternal salvation, we display as much zeal as we do in acquiring profane science, and in cultivating our minds? St. Dorotheus, writing upon this subject, says very well, that he often made a reflection, which much improved him, When I studied in the world, says he, I took my studies so much to heart, that I thought of nothing else; and had it not been for one of my friends, who took care to provide me something to eat, and to call me at dinner time, I had never thought of eating. The vehement desire I had to learn went so far, that when I was at table, I had my book always open before me, that I might eat and study at the same time; and at night when I came from school, I presently lighted my candle, and studied till midnight; and when I lay down to sleep, I took my book into my bed, and after [had slept a while, I fell a reading again, and was so wholly taken up with this passion of studying, that I could take no delight. in anything else. Since I came to be a religious, I have often reflected and said to myself, “If thou didst heretofore take so much pains, and wert so zealous to acquire eloquence, what great pains and care oughtest thou not to take now, in order to acquire true virtue? And this very thought,” says he, “‘ was a great help to me, and gave me fresh courage, and new strength.” (Doroth. Doct. 10.)

Let us encourage ourselves by the same consideration, and remember that it is of greater concern to become good religious, than great and learned orators. Let all our endeavours and application, therefore, be, to attain to the knowledge and love of God, which is the greatest, and indeed our only affair in this life. All the time that our blessed Saviour lived amongst us, be had no other intent than to manifest the tender love he had for us, and to procure us the greatest happiness we were capabable of enjoying; and to that end he refused not to shed his most precious blood, and even to lay down his life. And shall we think too much, in return for so great goodness, to make it our chief business to love and serve him, and always to promote his honour and glory? ‘Wherefore lift up your hands that hang down as if tired, and stretch out your loose knees” (Hebrews 12:12): “Let us make haste to arrive at the place of rest” (Ibid. 4:11), and let us not stop till we go to ‘“Horeb, the mountain of God” (3 Kings 19:8), that is to say, the highest pitch of glory and perfection. And as a traveller that has slept till late in the morning, makes haste to repair the time he has lost, by mending his pace till he overtake his company, that were gone before; so should we make haste, and never stop in our course, till we have repaired the time we have lost by our negligence. It is to this end, that each of us should always have these thoughts in our mind:—My companions and brethren are already far advanced on their journey, and I alone still loiter behind, notwithstanding I began ny journey first, and entered into religion before them. How great a happiness and advantage would it prove to us, if we did truly grieve for all the time we have lost? And what an encouragement would it give us for the future, to advance with more diligence, and make haste without remissness?

Denis, the Carthusian, reports a passage which he takes from the Lives of the Ancient Fathers, saying, that a certain woman finding her son desirous to become a religious, endeavoured all she could to hinder his executing this good design, laying before him all she thought might serve to prevent him; but the young man, continuing still firm in his holy resolution, made no other answer to all the difficulties and objections his mother urged, but only this, Z will save my soul. At last, his mother seeing she could prevail on him, neither by reason nor importunity, left him to his own choice; and so the young man took the habit of religion. But this first fervour cooling afterwards, he began to live so negligently that there could scarce be found any trace of that zeal he had at first shewn for heavenly things. Soon after, his mother died, and he fell sick of a very dangerous fever, in which, lying in a trance, he fancied, that he was carried before God’s great tribunal, where he saw his mother, with many others, expecting the sentence of their condemnation; and that his mother, looking upon him, and perceiving: that he was of the number of those who were to be condemned; “Alas! son,” said she, “what is become of that good resolution, and that sentence you so often heretofore repeated to me, J will save my soul? Was it to become a lost soul that you made yourself a religious P” This reproach of his mother put him into so great a confusion, that he could not tell what to reply. At last awaking from this trance, and permitted by God to recover from that sickness, he began to consider that the vision he had had was certainly a warning from God; which wrought such a change in him, that he spent all the rest of his life in tears, and continual penance. Many endeavoured to persuade him to moderate, and abate some part of his great austerities and mortifications, lest he should destroy his health by them; but he rejected all their advice, saying, “Alas! if I could not bear those reproaches of my mother, how shall I be able to bear those that will be made me by Jesus Christ, and his blessed angels, on the terrible day of judgment °” (Dion. Cart. art. 30 de quatuor novis.)

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