«Pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris» — "Dust you are, and to dust you shall return" (Gen. 3:19).
Point I
Consider that you are dust, and to dust you must return. A day must come when you must die and find yourself rotting in a grave, where you will be covered by worms. «Operimentum tuum erunt vermes» — "Worms shall be your covering" (Isa. 14:11). The same lot must befall all — nobles and commoners, princes and vassals. Once the soul has left the body with that last opening of the mouth, the soul will go to its eternity, and the body must return to dust. «Auferes spiritum eorum, et in pulverem revertentur» — "You will take away their spirit, and they shall return to dust" (Ps. 103:29).
Imagine that you see a person from whom the soul has just departed. Look at that corpse, still lying on the bed: the head fallen upon the chest, the hair disheveled and still wet with the sweat of death, the eyes sunken, the cheeks hollow, the face the color of ashes, the tongue and lips the color of iron, the body cold and heavy. Whoever sees it turns pale and trembles. How many, at the sight of a deceased relative or friend, have changed their lives and left the world!
The corpse gives still greater horror when it begins to decay. Scarcely twenty-four hours will have passed since that young man died, and already the stench makes itself felt. The windows must be opened and much incense burned; indeed, one must see to it that the body is quickly carried to the church and placed underground, lest it infect the whole house. And the fact that the body belonged to a nobleman or a rich man will serve only to make the stench more intolerable. «Gravius foetent divitum corpora» — "The corpses of the rich give off a fouler stench," says one author.
Behold what has become of that proud man, that profligate! Once welcomed and sought after in society, he has now become the horror and abomination of all who see him. Hence his relatives hasten to have him driven from the house, and porters are paid to carry him away, shut in a coffin, to cast him into a grave. Before, the fame of his wit, his charm, his fine manners, and his pleasantries was on everyone's lips; but soon after he is dead, his memory is lost. «Periit memoria eorum cum sonitu» — "Their memory has perished with a sound" (Ps. 9:7).
Upon hearing the news of his death, one says: "He was a man who made his mark"; another: "He has left his family well provided for"; some grieve because the deceased brought them some advantage; others rejoice because his death benefits them. In any case, before long no one will speak of him anymore. And from the very beginning, his closest relatives do not want to hear him mentioned, lest their grief be renewed. During visits of condolence people talk of other things; and if someone happens to speak of the deceased, the relative says: "For pity's sake, do not mention him to me again."
Reflect that just as you have done at the death of your friends and relatives, so others will do with you. The living enter to make their appearance on the stage and to occupy the goods and the places of the dead; and of the dead, little or nothing is esteemed or mentioned any longer. Your relatives will at first remain afflicted for a few days, but soon they will console themselves with that portion of your goods that has fallen to them; so that before long they will even rejoice at your death. And in that very room where you breathed your last and were judged by Jesus Christ, they will dance, eat, play, and laugh as before — and where will your soul be then?
Affections and Prayers
O Jesus, my Redeemer, I thank You for not having let me die when I was in disgrace with You. For how many years have I deserved to be in hell! If I had died on that day, on that night, what would have become of me for all eternity? Lord, I thank You. I accept my death in satisfaction for my sins; and I accept it in the manner in which it shall please You to send it; but since You have waited for me until now, wait for me a little longer. «Dimitte me, ut plangam paululum dolorem meum» — "Let me alone, that I may lament my sorrow a little" (Job 10:20). Give me time to weep over the offenses I have committed against You, before You come to judge me.
I no longer want to resist Your calls. Who knows whether these words I have read are the last call for me! I confess that I do not deserve pity: You have forgiven me so many times, and I, ungrateful, have gone back to offending You. «Cor contritum, et humiliatum Deus non despicies» — "A contrite and humbled heart, O God, You will not despise" (Ps. 50). Lord, since You cannot despise a heart that humbles itself and repents, behold the traitor who, repentant, comes back to You. «Ne proiicias me a facie tua» — "Cast me not away from Your face." For pity's sake, do not drive me away. You have said: «Eum, qui venit ad me, non eiiciam foras» — "Him who comes to Me, I will not cast out" (John 6:37). It is true that I have outraged You more than others, because more than others I have been favored by You with lights and graces; but the blood You have shed for me gives me courage and offers me forgiveness, if I repent. Yes, my supreme Good, I repent with all my soul of having despised You. Forgive me, and give me the grace to love You for the time to come. It is enough that I have offended You. The life that remains to me — no, my Jesus, I no longer want to spend it in offending You; I want to spend it only in weeping always over the displeasure I have given You, and in loving You with all my heart, O God worthy of infinite love.
O Mary, my hope, pray to Jesus for me.
Point II
But to see better what you are, my Christian, St. John Chrysostom says: «Perge ad sepulcrum, contemplare pulverem, cineres, vermes, et suspira» — "Go to the tomb, contemplate the dust, the ashes, the worms, and sigh." Look how that corpse first turns yellow and then black. Afterwards a white, loathsome mold appears over the whole body. Then a slimy, stinking putrefaction seeps out and trickles onto the ground. In that decay a great swarm of worms is bred, feeding on the very flesh. Rats join in to make their meal upon that body, some scurrying around the outside, others entering into the mouth and the entrails. The cheeks, the lips, and the hair fall to pieces; the ribs are the first to be stripped of flesh, then the arms and the legs. The worms, after having consumed all the flesh, consume one another; and finally nothing remains of that body but a stinking skeleton, which with time falls apart — the bones separating, and the head dropping from the trunk. «Redacta quasi in favillam aestivae areae, quae rapta sunt vento» — "Reduced like the dust of a summer threshing-floor, which is swept away by the wind" (Dan. 2:35). Behold what man is: a little dust on a threshing-floor, carried off by the wind.
Behold that gentleman who was called the delight, the very soul of conversation — where is he? Enter his room: he is there no more. If you look for his bed, it has been given to others; if for his clothes, his weapons — others have already taken them and divided them among themselves. If you wish to see him, look down into that grave, where he has turned into putrid slime and bones stripped bare. O God, that body nourished with so many delicacies, dressed with so much pomp, attended by so many servants — has it been reduced to this? O saints, you understood it: for love of that God whom alone you loved on this earth, you knew how to mortify your bodies; and now your bones are kept and prized as holy relics amid gold, and your beautiful souls enjoy God, awaiting the final day when your bodies too will come to be companions of glory, as they were companions of the cross in this life. This is the true love of the body: to load it here with torments, so that in eternity it may be happy; and to deny it those pleasures that would make it miserable forever.
Affections and Prayers
Behold then, my God, to what my body too must be reduced — this body for which I have so offended You! — to worms and rottenness. Yet this does not grieve me, O Lord; rather I rejoice that this flesh of mine, which has made me lose You, the supreme Good, must so rot away and be consumed. What grieves me is that, to take those wretched pleasures, I have given so much displeasure to You. But I will not distrust Your mercy. You have waited for me in order to forgive me. «Exspectat Deus, ut misereatur vestri» — "God waits, that He may have mercy on you" (Isa. 30:18). And You wish to forgive me if I repent. Yes, I repent with all my heart, O infinite Goodness, of having despised You. I will say to You with St. Catherine of Genoa: "My Jesus, no more sins, no more sins." No, I do not want to abuse Your patience any longer. Nor do I want to wait, my crucified Love, to embrace You when You will be delivered to me by the confessor at the point of death; from this moment I embrace You, from this moment I commend my soul to You: «In manus tuas, Domine, commendo spiritum meum» — "Into Your hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit." My soul has been in the world for so many years and has not loved You; give me light and strength to love You in this life that remains to me. I do not want to wait to love You at the hour of death; from now on I love You, I embrace You, I clasp You, and I promise never to leave You again.
O Most Holy Virgin, bind me to Jesus Christ, and obtain for me that I may never lose Him again.
Point III
My brother, in this portrait of death you see yourself, and what you must become. «Memento, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris» — "Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." Think that in a few years — and perhaps in months or days — you will become rottenness and worms. Job became a saint with this thought: «Putredini dixi, pater meus es tu, mater mea et soror mea vermibus» — "I said to rottenness, You are my father; and to the worms, my mother and my sister" (Job 17:14).
Everything must come to an end; and if your soul is lost at death, everything will be lost for you. «Considera te iam mortuum» — "Consider yourself already dead," says St. Lawrence Justinian, «quem scis de necessitate moriturum» — "you who know that you must of necessity die" (De Ligno vitae, ch. 4). If you were already dead, what would you not wish to have done for God? Now that you are alive, think that one day you will find yourself dead. St. Bonaventure says that the helmsman, to steer the ship well, takes his place at the stern; so too a man, to lead a good life, must always imagine himself as if he were at death. From there, says St. Bernard: «Vide prima et erubesce» — look at the sins of your youth, and blush for them; «Vide media, et ingemisce» — look at the sins of your manhood, and groan; «Vide novissima, et contremisce» — look at the latest, present disorders of your life, and tremble, and quickly find a remedy.
St. Camillus de Lellis, when he looked down into the graves of the dead, would say to himself: If these returned to life, what would they not do for eternal life? And I, who have time — what am I doing for my soul? But this Saint said that out of humility. But you, my brother, perhaps may rightly fear that you are that fruitless fig tree of which the Lord said: «Ecce anni tres sunt, ex quo venio quaerens fructum in ficulnea hac, et non invenio» — "Behold, for three years I have come seeking fruit on this fig tree, and I have found none" (Luke 13:7). You have been in the world more than three years — what fruit have you borne? See, says St. Bernard, that the Lord seeks not only flowers but wants fruit as well — that is, not only good desires and resolutions, but holy works too. Know then how to profit from this time that God gives you in His mercy; do not wait to long for time to do good when there will be no more time, and it will be said to you: «Tempus non erit amplius: Proficiscere» — "Time shall be no more: Depart." Quickly, now is the time to leave this world; quickly — what is done is done.
Affections and Prayers
Here I am, my God: I am that tree which for so many years deserved to hear: «Succide ergo illam, ut quid etiam terram occupat?» — "Cut it down, then; why should it even take up the ground?" Yes, for in all the many years I have been in the world, I have given You no other fruits but thorns and thistles of sins. But, Lord, You do not want me to despair.
You have said to all that whoever seeks You finds You: «Quaerite, et invenietis» — "Seek, and you shall find." I seek You, my God, and I want Your grace. For all the offenses I have committed against You, I am sorry with all my heart; I could die of sorrow. In the past I fled from You, but now I esteem Your friendship more than possessing all the kingdoms of the earth. I no longer want to resist Your calls. You want me all for Yourself: I give myself all to You, without reserve. On the cross You gave Yourself all to me; I give myself all to You.
You have said: «Si quid petieritis me in nomine meo, hoc faciam» — "If you ask Me anything in My name, I will do it" (John 14:14). My Jesus, trusting in this great promise, in Your name and by Your merits I ask You for Your grace, Your love. Let grace and Your holy love abound in my soul, where sin has abounded. I thank You, for You give me the spirit to make this prayer to You; since You inspire it in me, it is a sign that You wish to hear me. Hear me, my Jesus: give me a great love for You, give me a great desire to please You, and then the strength to carry it out.
O my great Advocate, Mary, hear me also; pray to Jesus for me.