Works and Prayers of a Fils Prodigue

From Man the Unknown by Alexis Carrel:

It is evident that men have joyfully welcomed modern civilization. They have abandoned the countryside and flocked to the cities and the factories. They eagerly adopt the mode of life and the ways of acting and of thinking of the new era. They lay aside their old habits without hesitation, because these habits demand a greater effort. It is less fatiguing to work in a factory or an office than on a farm. But even in the country, new techniques have relieved the harshness of existence. Modern houses make life easier for everybody. By their comfort, their warmth, and their pleasant lighting, they give their inmates a feeling of rest and contentment. Their up-to-date appointments considerably decrease the labor that, in bygone days, housekeeping demanded from women. Besides the lessening of muscular effort and the possession of comfort, human beings have accepted cheerfully the privilege of never being alone, of enjoying the innumerable distractions of the city, of living among huge crowds, of never thinking. They also appreciate being released, through a purely intellectual education, from the moral restraint imposed upon them by Puritan discipline and religious principles. In truth, modern life has set them free. It incites them to acquire wealth by any and every possible means, provided that these means do not lead them to jail. It opens to them all the countries of the earth. It has liberated them from all superstitions. It allows them the frequent excitation and the easy satisfaction of their sexual appetites. It does away with constraint, discipline, effort, everything that is inconvenient and laborious. The people, especially those belonging to the lower classes, are happier from a material standpoint than in former times. However, some of them progressively cease to appreciate the distractions and the vulgar pleasures of modern life. Occasionally, their health does not permit them to continue indefinitely the alimentary, alcoholic, and sexual excesses to which they are led by the suppression of all discipline. Besides, they are haunted by the fear of losing their employment, their means of subsistence, their savings, their fortune. They are unable to satisfy the need for security that exists in the depth of each of us. In spite of social insurances, they feel uneasy about their future. Those who are capable of thinking become discontented.

Worth the read. Available here: http://www.soilandhealth.org/03sov/0303critic/030310carrel/Carrel-ch1.htm

I intimated in my last post about my difficulies with the “mortification of desire” which St. John of the Cross speaks about. I trudged through the first book of The Ascent of Mount Carmel enthused but hesitant; convinced but confused. “How could I mortify all desire except the desire for God? Is that even possible?” “How do we enjoy the pleasures of the world which God has given us with detachment?” And so forth. I knew that his thesis was only the explication of the first commandment, and yet I was in darkness as to what the extent of the solution required.

I am pleased to say that John of the Cross deigned to explain himself further towards the end of Book I, just as any seasoned teacher gives his lecture and, scanning his class and seeing scrunching brows, perfectly anticipates their inquiries. John of the Cross learned such a method from the best scholastic scholars, who in their writings always anticipated the disputational dialogue of the listener. And so, after spending much time describing, with the Scriptures, the damage of desire — how it weakens, torments, defiles, darkens, and blinds the soul — John of the Cross looks up to his class and says “I see you’re having a problem; let me explain.” And so we ask:

1. “Are all desires equally harmful to the soul? It seems rather severe to think that we should mortify our entire will and all our affections!” No, not all desires are equally harmful to the soul. Being men, we are beset with natural desires not involving the use of will (I assume the Holy Doctor means desires to eat, sleep, breathe, drink, i.e. those concerned chiefly with the maintenance of the body and mind which are mandatory and desired without being willed — still, he does not specify beyond calling them “natural desires”). These cause no harm to the soul and are, as it were, nearly impossible to conquer in this life (and how evidently so!).

2. “What, then, are the desires which we should mortify?” While natural desires and in some cases involuntary imperfections do not present a great obstacle to Divine Union, it is the desires of the will itself which must be moritifed. Thus, the soul must desire only the will of God, and as such, “it must not intentionally and knowingly consent with the will to imperfections.” It must desire only what God desires, and must mortify these habitual imperfections which it knowingly chooses, and most especially voluntary venial sins and — it almost needn’t be said — the grave evil of mortal sin, which entirely blinds and darkens the soul. The soul, as it were, must remain detached from all things, being entirely “in Christ,” whose very meat and drink was the Will of God, and must not be attached to any creature for its own sake. In order to achieve this, though, the soul must not allow any imperfection or stain to remain, as John of the Cross emphatically points out:

For even as a log of wood may fail to be transformed in the fire because a single degree of heat is wanting to it, even so the soul will not be transformed in God if it have but one imperfection, although it be something less than voluntary desire; for, as we shall say hereafter concerning the night of faith, the soul has only one will, and that will, if it be embarassed [that is, made impure] by aught and set upon aught, is not free, solitary and pure, as is necessary for Divine transformation (52).

This will have to suffice for this issue — although perhaps I will post another entry concerning St. John of the Cross’s distinction between Privative and Positive Evil as it relates to desires, and how imperfections, venial sins, and mortal sins are the cause of such evil (Yes, it really is a whole nother post’s worth!) It should suffice to put our minds to ease, though, that John of the Cross is not referring emphatically to those desires which we can scarcely avoid. Rather, he merely exhorts us to point our entire will to Christ and mortify all those voluntary imperfections and sins which present an obstacle to absolute happiness.

3. “What must I do, then? I understand that desiring willfully the things of the earth creates a darkness in my soul, and that to attain divine union, I must desire God with my whole will. But, what can I begin doing now to bring about such a change?” This, in particular, was a major question I had. I am a doer, and so when presented with a discourse on a particular problem, my single desire becomes action. It is very well to convince me that the desire to fulfill pleasures and imperfections is disorderly; good, I am convinced! Now what?

St. John of the Cross does not disappoint, however:

These counsels for the conquering of the desires, which now follow, albeit brief and few, I believe to be as profitable and efficaciousas they are concise; so that one who sincerely desires to practice them will need no others, but will find them all included in these.

Although these counsels themselves comprise a lifetime of lectures and exposition, I will describe them as briefly as possible:

1. First and foremost, we must imitate Christ’s life. We must meditate upon it daily, and seek in all the ways available to our state in life to emulate Him. As we said above, love produces similitude between lover and beloved. As a wife with cold benumbed hands will grasp her husbands and be warm, so we must cling to our Lord and “draw near to him” in order to receive the smoldering warmth of grace.

2. We must deny ourselves bodily pleasure. We find this same exhortation in St. Teresa’s Way of Perfection, that the body must be conquered by denial. This is a rather simple lesson, easily stated and hardly attainable without great travail: whatever sensual pleasure does not glorify God must be spurned. If a particular film does not point us “Godward,” we should deny ourselves the privilige of seeing it. If certain music does not glorify God, we should deny our ears such pleasure. And so forth.

3. We should “strive always to prefer, not that which is easiest [delectable, pleasureable, restful, consoling, great, lofty, etc.] but that which is most difficult [unpleasing, wearisome, disconsolate, least, lowest and despised].” In doing so, we can begin “to desire to enter into complete detachment and emptiness and poverty, with respect to everything that is in the world, for Christ’s sake.” That one is fairly self-explanatory.

There are a few lines left, but they repeat essentially what is from above (or if they don’t, they require more explanation than is fitting for this post). The whole essence is complete self-denial in imitation of Christ producing a detachment and repose in the soul, paving the way for God to fill what has become void.

I, for one, appreciate John of the Cross’s honesty in this matter. Although he admits that such a mortification must go “gradually,” and so we should slowly and prudently mortify our will as St. Frances de Sales exhorts us, the way is not easy. It is indeed narrow and stony, and we should have no doubts that our knees will turn black and bloody, our hands scraped and raw, from such a trek. But isn’t it an envigorating feeling to receive a call, not below our dignity, but beckoning us to answer the voice of Christ? Don’t we breathe deeply as the voice resounds in our hearts: “You are a child of God, not to be bound by such paltry cords! You were created to glorify the Almighty Lord of Lords, and He has chosen to bring you into his Holiest presence and to give you all the joys and gifts of His spirit. Why remain outside in your shabby and sullied rags, when he has presented you with the wedding garment of His own son? (Matt. 22:12)” And so, may we all respond to such a call and leave our wretched rags behind, so that “we all beholding the glory of the Lord with open face, are transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as by the Spirit of the Lord” (2 Cor. 3:18).

In fine, I hope this post has helped illuminate at least a small part of St. John of the Cross’s work. I have no doubt that it helps me to explain it far more than it helps any of you to read it. But still, I hope it helps you all the same, and if it does, deo gratias!