On
the Conditions and Consolations of True Repentance
"This is he, of whom it is written: 'Behold I send my angel before thy face, who shall prepare thy way before thee'" (Mathew 11:10)
DURING the sacred time of Advent, the Church invites us, in the most pressing
terms, to prepare our souls for the approaching solemnity of the birth of
Christ. This is the time, she exclaims, to arise from sleep, because our
salvation is nearer than when we first believed: this is the time to do
penance, for the kingdom of Heaven is at hand. She assumes the office of the precursor:
she goes before the face of the Lord, and by the voice of her ministers
solicits us to open our hearts to receive him at this holy time, in order that
his arms may be opened hereafter to receive us on the great day of final
retribution.
But, beloved Christians, are we prepared to accept these gracious invitations?
Are we eager to rush forward to the banks of the Jordan, confessing our sins?
Ah! we all listen to the Heavenly monitor, but we obey him not. We are more
inclined to flatter ourselves with the supposition that we are as perfect as
the law of God requires us to be; that we fulfil all the divine commandments
with sufficient exactitude; that we comply with our duties, and that we perform
every good work which our state of life obliges us to perform: we are more
inclined, I say, to form this favour able opinion of ourselves, than to suppose
that the words of the Baptist are addressed to us: "Ye vipers, who hath
taught you to flee from the wrath to come? Bring forth worthy fruits of penance" (Matt., 3:7)
But, my beloved, in vain do we endeavour to deceive ourselves. Truth itself,
and the testimony of our own conscience declare that we are sinners, arid
consequently, that it is our bounden and indispensable duty to reform, and to
do penance. None have escaped the general prevarication; and therefore none are
exempt from the general precept: "Do penance, for the kingdom of God is at
hand" (Matt., 3:2)
In calling your attention to this subject, I do not mean to enter into any
argument on the necessity of repentance that is a settled point that is
undeniable. My object is to lay before you the conditions which must accompany
your repentance, in order that it may find acceptance with God; and in
conclusion, to add a few reflections on the interior delights which smoothen
the rugged paths of self-denial and reformation.
1. Sin is an alienation of the affections from God, and an at tempt to extract
happiness from the enjoyment of created things, in opposition to the will of
the Creator. The first duty, therefore, of repentance, is to renounce these
vain objects of attachment, and to replace our affections on him, who alone is
worthy of them. To this we are urged, not only by the voice of religion, but by
the united voice of reason and experience. Reason informs us, that that object
alone is worthy of our love, which can effectually contribute to our happiness;
which can satisfy the cravings of our souls; which can administer to our wants,
alleviate our afflictions, and procure us all good. Now, God alone being the
author of these inestimable blessings, reason dictates the necessity of fixing
our affections solely on him. Experience has already convinced us of this
truth. During the time that our affections were fixed on earthly things, we
always felt a deficiency in our breasts: we perceived that creatures were
capricious, false, and inconstant: we saw that our hearts were deluded, and
that happiness was not to be found in them.
With the authority, therefore, of religion, reason, and experience on my side,
I will boldly proclaim the necessity of fixing your affections, in the very
commencement of your repentance, solely on the great Author of your existence,
and on the Giver of every good gift: I will confidently assert that you will
not persevere in your great work, unless you open your hearts to the same
seraphic flames of love which animated the saints, and endeavour to walk in
their footsteps. They are your models, and after them must you form the plan of
your new life.
But me thinks I hear you say, that if such perfect love be a necessary
ingredient of repentance, it is in vain for you to attempt it; and to require
that you walk in the footsteps of the saints, is to require impossibilities.
But, my beloved friends, why are you alarmed? Who, and what were the saints? Do
you suppose that they were beings of a superior order? or that they possessed
qualities which were never implanted in your nature? Far from it. They were men
in the pursuit of the same happiness as your selves. They differed in nothing
from you, except in fixing on the proper object for their pursuit. And will you
say that you are not susceptible of the same sublime impressions of holy love
as they were? You can adhere to creatures with the most ardent warmth of
passion; and are you incapable of adhering to the Great Author of all with the
same degree of warmth and animation? If this be true, what are we to infer?
That you were made for vanity and folly: that your hearts are so mean and
grovelling, that they cannot rise to the love or fruition of any thing beyond
the enjoyment of sensual pleasures? Ah! for God's sake, let not any thing like
this be said of you! Oh! do not, do not you subscribe to this assertion! For,
if you are not formed for divine love, what is the object of your existence,
and for whom were you made? Will you allow, that you were created for no other
purpose, than to be the victims of melancholy and delusion? Will you allow,
that the Great Author of your exist ence has drawn you out of nothing, merely
to make you miserable? and that your souls are capacitated to enjoy no other
happiness than that which eludes your search, than that which, in reality, has
no existence?
O man, be no longer the dupe of your own fears. The fervour of the saints is
not difficult of imitation. Open your eyes: look into your interior; and you
will discover that the dispositions, which you consider as obstacles to divine
love, are the very dispositions which will promote its reign in your souls. The
more ardent you now are in the pursuit of worldly vanities, the more ardent
will you be hereafter in the service of God, and in the pursuit of eternal
pleasures. The more your heart is susceptible of the love of creatures, the
easier access will it open to the inspirations of divine grace. The more
haughty, proud, and ambitious you are by nature, the more independently will
you serve the Lord, without fear, without human respect, without adulation. The
more pliant, volatile, and inconstant your disposition, the more easy will it
be for you to withdraw your misplaced affections, and fix them on God. In a
word, your passions themselves may be made, in a great measure, the ground-work
of your repentance. You may make that, which has hitherto been the cause of
your sins, the instrument of your salvation; and you will thus experience, that
the heart, which is susceptible of impressions from creatures, is more
susceptible of the impressions of divine grace.
2. The first condition, therefore, of true repentance, which is the love of
God, is necessary, and within your power. The second, which is equally
necessary and which consists in works of self-denial and mortification, may be
easily practised by the influence which the former will necessarily have over
every part of your future conduct.
During the time that you were engaged in sin, you lived in the constant abuse
of the gifts of God. Reparation, consequently, must be made to divine justice
by the mortification of the senses, and the voluntary renunciation of those
enjoyments, of which you have made an improper use.
Strictly speaking, the sinner may be said to have lost his right to the
blessings of God: he has forfeited his inheritance: he has incurred the
malediction of his Creator: he is an anathema in the midst of all the creatures
which God had intended for his use. There are, therefore, ordinances for the
unfaithful, which are not extended to mankind in general. They are excepted
from the common right: and they are to judge of the extent of their liberties,
not from general maxims, but from the personal exceptions which they have
incurred.
On this principle, I will answer a question which is frequently brought forward
by false penitents: "Is it unlawful", they ask, "to indulge the
fancies of dress, on purpose to engage the attention of others? Is this or that
public amusement, this or that innocent enjoyment, forbidden by the
gospel?" I will reply by another question: Have you never criminally
abused these liberties? Have you never made them the occasions of sin? Ah! by
means of these very amusements, you have probably heaped up to yourselves
treasures of wrath: and now, that you are deliberating on the means of
effecting a change of life, you stand up in defence of vanity and folly: now
that you are entering on a course of atonement to the divine justice for the
numberless offences of your past lives, when sackcloth and ashes ought to be
your only ornament, you maintain the lawfulness of pomp and splendor, and
dissipation, from which, whether they are allowable in others or not, you
certainly ought, in every view of the case, on principles of conscience and
right reason, carefully to restrict yourselves.
Beloved Christians, the sorrows of true repentance hurry away the soul with
precipitation from every thing which has at any time been to her an occasion of
sin. She considers not whether this, or that,
be innocent in itself, but whether it has led, or is calculated to lead her
into the deep abyss of sin. She entertains as great an abhorrence for the
promoters of her crimes, as for the crimes themselves. She avoids the sparks
which enkindled her passions, with as much care as she resists the passions
themselves. She trembles at the idea of her former irregularities. She abhors
the sight of the places, persons, and things which gave occasion to them: she
flies from them with haste, lest they should again make an impression on her
heart. Instead, therefore, of maintaining the lawfulness of again corresponding
with the objects and occasions of your former sins, you must hate, you must fly
from them as from a pestilence. You must shun the rocks, on which yon have
already suffered shipwreck. Necessity compels you: for, be assured, if you
continue to love the danger, you will infallibly perish in it.
Moreover, in the same manner as concupiscence embraces every opportunity of
indulging its unlawful propensities, so, like wise, the true penitent
endeavours on every occasion to satisfy the divine justice by private
mortifications. He sacrifices on the altar of penance every thing that flatters
the senses, every thing that cherishes the passions, and every superfluity that
tends only to strengthen the empire of self-love. Like a two-edged sword, he
reaches unto the division of the soul and the spirit: he makes separations the
most painful to flesh and blood; he cuts even to the quick, and retrenches
every thing that favours the inclinations of corrupt nature: he is ingenious in
his modes of penance. In every occurrence of life, he discovers means of
contributing to the expiation of his former sins: even the few amusements which
he allows himself, he changes into acts of virtue, by the pious circumspection
with which he indulges them.
This, beloved Christians, is the Heavenly secret of repentance. Now let me
exhort you to compare your system of a penitent life, with the model which I
have displayed. Do not deceive yourselves. It is in vain that you have put off
the defiled garments of grosser sensualities, unless you renounce likewise the
love of pomp and vanity, unless you have resolution to mortify your will, and
repress the insatiable desires of self-love. Ah! seldom is there a true
penitent! Imperfect and superficial conversions are frequent: but there is too
much reason to fear that the greater number of those, who appear reformed in
the eyes of the world, will carry with them to the great tribunal of God,
hearts as much attached to vanity, and as corrupt in their affections, as they
were in the midst of their irregularities.
In order to settle your reform of life on the most solid basis, you must apply
diligently to the practice of the opposite virtues. If you have been addicted
to gaming, vanity, or love of dress, your dissipated state of mind must be
reformed by prayer, retirement, and works of mercy. If you have strengthened
the empire of flesh and blood, by abandoning yourselves to the more disgraceful
passions, the flames of impurity and intemperance must be extinguished by
degrees by fasts, austerities, watchings, and the heavy yoke of self-denial and
penance. This is not a matter of counsel; it is of precept. Your happiness
depends upon it, your perseverance depends upon it: for your old attachments
will incessantly shoot forth, and spring up again, if they be not entirely
eradicated from your breasts. Your passions will become more violent, and will
redouble their attacks, unless they are completely subdued. You will be in
momentary danger of another ship wreck. You will enjoy neither peace nor
consolation in your new life. Your weakness and pusillanimity will increase.
The pleasures which you have renounced, will appear before your eyes in the
most engaging colours, and the charms of piety and holiness will appear faded
and uninviting. Thus will you be a constant temptation to yourselves; and, as
it is not easy to maintain a contest against yourselves for any length of time,
you will soon turn away with disgust from a life which costs you so dear. It is
true, therefore, my dear friends, and let me entreat you to reflect seriously
on what I am about to say: it is true, that in proportion as you increase and
multiply your sacrifices on the first commencement of a reform of life, you
diminish the difficulties; and that, in proportion as you favour your former
disorderly inclinations, instead of mitigating the rigours of repentance, you
make them more disgusting and intolerable.
A change of life, therefore, consists not merely in a reformation of your past
disorders, but in a reformation accompanied with suitable acts of atonement to
the divine justice. This is in dispensable; and, notwithstanding the contrary
opinion which you have probably formed on this head, it is not attended with
much difficulty. The graces and consolations of Heaven sweeten the bitter pains
of mortification and penance, and encourage the soul to proceed with alacrity
and rapidity in the important task, until she shall have brought it to a happy
termination. I will conclude with a few words on this subject.
3. Come to me, says our Saviour, all you who are wearied in the ways of
iniquity: come, and taste the sweets of my yoke, and you shall find that peace
and rest which you have sought in vain under the yoke of your passions: you
shall find rest for your souls.
Yes, beloved Christians; instead of that inconstancy and in gratitude, which
you have experienced from creatures; instead of that emptiness and puerility
which accompanied your worldly pleasures; instead of that anxiety, solicitude,
and remorse, which were the attendants of dissipation, your souls will overflow
with the most enrapturing delights of innocence and peace. With what interior
joy will you exclaim: "Hitherto I have lived only for vanity. The days,
the years, the afflictions that are past, are now as nothing: they are lost:
they are obliterated even from the memory of that world, for which alone I have
lived. My civilities, my condescensions, my services, have been repaid only
with ingratitude. But now, everything that I shall either do or suffer for
Jesus, will be placed to account: every act of self-denial, every trivial
sacrifice, every sigh, every tear will be registered in indelible characters in
the book of life; they will be all recorded in the memory of the great Master
whom I serve; they will be all, notwithstanding the deficiencies arising from
the weakness of human nature, they will be all purified by the blood of my
Redeemer: my merits, indeed will be nothing, independently of his grace; but he
will crown his own gifts with an infinite reward. I live now for eternity
alone: I no longer labour in vain: my life is no more a dream." Could you,
my beloved brethren, taste the ineffable consolations which this soliloquy
imparts to the penitent sinner, you would be enraptured; you would exclaim in
concert with all the holy servants of God: "Piety is a treasure indeed!
The man who is truly converted to the Lord, receives an hundred-fold even in
this life, for the sacrifices which he immolates on the altar of
repentance".
I will not, however, pretend to assert, that the true penitent is entirely free
from uneasiness and solicitude: experience proves the contrary; and therefore I
acknowledge, that the recollection of his past disloyalties will sometimes
throw a gloom over his mind. But, notwithstanding his incertitude whether he be
worthy of love or hatred, the secret peace which reigns within, gives testimony
that Jesus is there; and the ineffable interior delights which he enjoys,
convince him that God has received him again into favour. I acknowledge,
likewise, that the lively ideas of the infinite justice of God, and of the
multitude of his sins, will sometimes excite apprehension and alarm. But these
are trials sent only for the exercise of his humility, and are, consequently,
of short duration: he quickly hears the voice of Jesus in his soul: "Oh!
thou of little faith, why dost thou doubt? Have I not given thee sufficient
proofs of my protection and benevolence? Recall to mind all that I have done,
in order to snatch thee from the abyss of perdition. I seek not with such
earnestness the sheep that is not dear to me. I never should carry it on my
shoulders with such patience, if I intended that it should perish before my
eyes. Mistrust not my goodness. Thy only motives for alarm, are thy own
tepidity and inconstancy".
This, beloved Christians, is but a faint description of the pleasures which
enliven the paths of virtue. Why then will you hesitate? Are you restrained by
the fear of difficulties? Ungenerous souls! You have endured the anguish and
remorse of sin without complaint for many years; and is it possible that you
should dread the holy sorrows of repentance? You have borne the yoke of the
world a yoke which admitted neither of ease, nor of comfort, nor of real pleasure;
and will you dare to call the yoke of the Lord insupportable? Be no longer the
dupes of imaginary fears. The anxieties, and the pains to which you have been
accustomed, have prepared you for the sufferings of penance. This
apprenticeship will make everything easy, particularly as your future labours
will be accompanied and sweetened by the graces and consolations of Heaven.
Good God! having walked so long in the rugged paths of sin, and under the hard
tyranny of the world and my passions, is it possible that I should be unable to
walk with thee, under the wings of thy mercy, and supported by thy powerful
arm? Art thou then a hard master? No: the world knows thee not, and therefore
it supposes that thou impartest no consolations to thy faithful servants. But
we, O Lord, we know thee. We know that thou art the best of Masters, the most
tender of Fathers, the most faithful of Friends, the most bountiful of
Benefactors. We know that thou wilt pour thy choicest gifts on thy servants
during their mortal pilgrimage, and give them a foretaste of that eternal
happiness which thou hast prepared for them in Heaven.
Sermon by Jean-Baptiste Massillon
Photo taken from Wikimedia Commons