«Quid prodest homini, si mundum universum lucretur, animae vero suae detrimentum patiatur?» — "What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world, but suffers the loss of his own soul?" (Matt. 16:26).
Point I
There was a certain ancient philosopher named Aristippus who, once traveling by sea, was shipwrecked with his ship and lost all his goods; but having reached the shore, since he was greatly renowned for his learning, the people of that place provided him with everything he had lost. He then wrote to his friends in his homeland that, following his example, they should take care to provide themselves only with those goods that are not lost even in a shipwreck. Now this is exactly what our relatives and friends who dwell in eternity send to tell us from the other life: that while still alive here we should take care to provide ourselves only with those goods that are not lost even in death. The day of death is called «Dies perditionis» («Iuxta est dies perditionis» — "The day of destruction is at hand" — Deut. 29:21), a "day of loss," because on that day all the goods of this earth — honors, riches, pleasures — must be lost. Hence St. Ambrose says that we cannot call these our goods, since we cannot take them with us to the other world, but the virtues alone accompany us to the other life: «Non nostra sunt, quae non possumus auferre nobiscum; sola virtus nos comitatur» — "They are not ours which we cannot carry away with us; virtue alone accompanies us."
What is the use, then, says Jesus Christ, of gaining the whole world, if in death, by losing our soul, we lose everything? «Quid prodest homini, si mundum universum lucretur?» — "What does it profit a man if he gains the whole world?" Ah, how many young men has this great maxim sent to shut themselves up in cloisters, how many anchorites to live in deserts, how many martyrs to give their lives for Jesus Christ! With this maxim St. Ignatius of Loyola drew many souls to God, and especially the beautiful soul of St. Francis Xavier, who was in Paris, given over there to worldly thoughts. "Francis," the saint said to him one day, "remember that the world is a traitor that promises and does not keep its word. But even if the world gave you all it promises, it could never satisfy your heart. But suppose it did satisfy you — how long will this happiness of yours last? Can it last longer than your life? And in the end, what will you take with you into eternity? Is there perhaps any rich man there who has brought a coin, or a servant for his comfort? Is there any king who has brought a thread of purple for his honor?" At these words St. Francis left the world, followed St. Ignatius, and became a saint. «Vanitas vanitatum» — "Vanity of vanities" — so Solomon called all the goods of this world, after he had denied himself no pleasure of all those found on earth, as he himself confessed: «Omnia quae desideraverunt oculi mei, non negavi eis» — "Whatsoever my eyes desired, I did not deny them" (Eccl. 2:10). Sister Margaret of St. Anne, a Discalced Carmelite and daughter of the Emperor Rudolf II, used to say: "What use are kingdoms at the hour of death?" How strange! The saints tremble at the thought of the moment of their eternal salvation; Father Paul Segneri trembled, and in great fear asked his confessor, "What do you say, Father — will I be saved?" St. Andrew Avellino trembled and wept bitterly, saying, "Who knows whether I shall be saved!" St. Louis Bertrand was likewise so tormented by this thought that at night he would leap out of bed in fright, saying, "And who knows whether I shall be damned!" And sinners live in a state of damnation, yet they sleep, and jest, and laugh!
Affections and Prayers
Ah, my Jesus, my Redeemer, I thank You for making me see my folly and the evil I did in turning my back on You, who for me shed Your blood and gave Your life. No, You did not deserve to be treated by me as I have treated You. Behold, if death were to come to me now, what would I find but sins and remorse of conscience that would make me die in anguish? My Savior, I confess it: I have done wrong, I made a mistake in leaving You, the Supreme Good, for the wretched pleasures of this world; I repent of it with all my heart. Ah, by that sorrow that killed You on the cross, give me such sorrow for my sins as will make me weep, for all the life that remains to me, over the wrongs I have done You. My Jesus, my Jesus, forgive me, for I promise You never again to displease You and to love You always. I am no longer worthy of Your love, because in the past I despised it so much; but You have said that You love those who love You: «Ego diligentes me diligo» — "I love those who love me" (Prov. 8). I love You; do You love me still. I do not want ever to see myself out of Your favor again. I renounce all the grandeurs and pleasures of the world, provided that You love me. My God, hear me for the love of Jesus Christ; He prays You not to drive me from Your heart. I consecrate myself entirely to You; I consecrate to You my life, my satisfactions, my senses, my soul, my body, my will, my liberty. Accept me; do not reject me, as I would deserve for having so often rejected Your friendship. «Ne proiicias me a facie tua» — "Cast me not away from Your face."
Mary Most Holy, my Mother, pray to Jesus for me; in Your intercession I place all my trust.
Point II
«Statera dolosa in manu eius» — "A deceitful balance is in his hand" (Hos. 12). We must weigh goods in the scales of God, not in those of the world, which deceive. The goods of the world are goods too wretched: they do not satisfy the soul, and they quickly come to an end. «Dies mei velociores fuerunt cursore, pertransierunt quasi naves poma portantes» — "My days have been swifter than a runner; they have passed by like ships carrying fruit" (Job 9:25). The days of our life and of the pleasures of this earth pass and flee away, and in the end what remains? «Pertransierunt quasi naves» — "They have passed by like ships." Ships do not even leave a trace of where they have passed. «Tanquam navis, quae pertransit fluctuantem aquam, cuius, cum praeterierit, non est vestigium invenire» — "Like a ship that passes through the surging water, of which, once it has passed, no trace can be found" (Wis. 5:10). Let us ask so many rich men, scholars, princes, and emperors, who are now in eternity, what has become of the pomp, the delights, and the grandeurs they enjoyed on this earth? They all answer: Nothing, nothing. Man, says St. Augustine: «Quid hic habebat, attendis, quid secum fert, attende» — "You mark what he had here; mark what he carries with him" (Serm. 13, de Adv. Dom.). You look (says the saint) only at the goods that great man possessed; but observe what he takes with him now that he dies, if not a stinking corpse and a rag of a garment to rot away with him. Of the great ones of the world who die, one hears talk for barely a short time, and then even their memory is lost. «Periit memoria eorum cum sonitu» — "Their memory has perished with a crash" (Ps. 9:7). And if the wretches then go to hell, what do they do there, what do they say? They weep and say: «Quid profuit nobis superbia, aut divitiarum iactantia?... transierunt omnia illa, tanquam umbra» — "What has pride profited us, or the boasting of riches?... All those things have passed away like a shadow" (Wis. 5:8). What good have our pomp and our riches done us, if now everything has passed like a shadow, and nothing remains but pain, weeping, and eternal despair?
«Filii huius saeculi prudentiores filiis lucis sunt» — "The children of this world are more prudent than the children of light" (Luke 16:8). A fine thing! How prudent worldlings are in the things of the earth! What labors do they not undertake to gain that post, that wealth! What diligence do they not use to preserve the health of the body! They choose the surest means, the best physician, the best remedies, the best air. And then for the soul they are so careless! Yet it is certain that health, posts, and possessions must one day come to an end; but the soul and eternity never end. «Intueamur quanta homines sustineant pro rebus, quas vitiose diligunt» — "Let us behold (says St. Augustine) how much men endure for the things they sinfully love." What will that vengeful man, that thief, that profligate not suffer to attain his wicked aim? And then for the soul they are willing to suffer nothing? O God, by the light of that candle which is lit at death — then, in that time of truth — worldlings recognize and confess their folly. Then each one says: Oh, had I left everything and become a saint! Pope Leo XI said at death: Better that I had been the porter of my monastery than Pope. Honorius III, likewise Pope, also said while dying: Better that I had remained in the kitchen of my convent washing dishes. Philip II, king of Spain, when dying called his son and, throwing off his royal robe, showed him his breast gnawed by worms, and then said to him: Prince, see how one dies, and how the grandeurs of the world come to an end. And then he exclaimed: Oh, had I been a lay brother of some religious order and not a monarch! At the same time he had a cord with a wooden cross tied around his neck, made the arrangements for his death, and said to his son: I wished, my son, that you should be present at this act, so that you may see how the world in the end treats even monarchs. Thus their death is the same as that of the poorest in the world. In short, whoever lives better has a better place with God. This same son (who became Philip III), dying young at forty-two years of age, said: My subjects, in the sermon at my funeral preach nothing but this spectacle that you see. Say that being a king avails nothing in death, except to feel a greater torment at having been one. And then he exclaimed: Oh, had I not been king, and had I lived in a desert serving God, for now I would go with greater confidence to present myself before His tribunal, and I would not find myself at such risk of being damned! But what use are these desires at the point of death, except for greater pain and despair for one who in life has not loved God? St. Teresa therefore used to say: «No account is to be made of what ends with life; true life is to live in such a way that death is not feared.» Therefore, if we wish to see what the goods of this earth are, let us look at them from the deathbed; and then let us say: Those honors, those amusements, those revenues will one day end; therefore we must strive to become saints and rich in those goods alone that will come with us and will make us happy for all eternity.
Affections and Prayers
Ah, my Redeemer, You have suffered so many pains and humiliations for love of me; and I have so loved the pleasures and the empty vanities of this earth that for their sake I have so many times come to trample Your grace underfoot! But if, when I despised You, You did not cease to come after me, I cannot fear, O my Jesus, that You will cast me away now that I seek You and love You with all my heart; and I repent more of having offended You than if I had suffered every other misfortune. O God of my soul, from this day forward I wish to give You no displeasure, however slight; make me know what displeases You, for I do not wish to do it for any good in the world; and make me understand what I must do to please You, for I am ready. I wish to love You in earnest. I embrace, O Lord, all the sorrows and crosses that will come to me from Your hands; give me the resignation that You require of me. «Hic ure, hic seca» — "Here burn, here cut."
Chastise me in this life, so that in the next I may love You for all eternity.
Mary, my Mother, to You I commend myself; never cease to pray to Jesus for me.
Point III
«Tempus breve est... qui utuntur hoc mundo, tanquam non utantur, praeterit enim figura huius mundi» — "The time is short... those who use this world should be as though they used it not, for the fashion of this world passes away" (1 Cor. 7:31). What else is our life in this world but a scene that passes and quickly ends? «Praeterit figura huius mundi» — "The fashion of this world passes away"; figura, that is, a stage, a play. «Mundus est instar scenae (dice Cornelio a Lapide), generatio praeterit, generatio advenit. Qui regem agit, non auferet secum purpuram. Dic mihi, o villa, o domus, quot dominos habuisti?» — "The world is like a stage (says Cornelius a Lapide); one generation passes, another comes. He who plays the king will not take the purple away with him. Tell me, O villa, O house, how many masters have you had?" When the play is over, he who played the part of the king is no longer king; the master is no longer master. Now you possess that villa, that palace; but death will come, and others will be masters of them.
«Malitia horae oblivionem facit luxuriae magnae» — "The calamity of an hour brings forgetfulness of great luxury" (Sir. 11:29). The dread hour of death makes us forget and brings to an end all the grandeurs, the nobilities, and the splendors of the world. Casimir, king of Poland, one day while he was at table with the great men of his kingdom, bringing a cup to his mouth to drink, died — and for him the play was over. Celsus the emperor, seven days after he had been elected, was killed, and the play was over for Celsus. Ladislaus, king of Bohemia, a youth of eighteen, while he was awaiting his bride, the daughter of the king of France, and great festivities were being prepared — behold, one morning, seized by a pain, he died; whereupon couriers were at once dispatched to tell the bride to return to France, since for Ladislaus the play was over. This thought of the vanity of the world made St. Francis Borgia a saint: when, as related above, he beheld the Empress Isabella dead amid her grandeurs and in the flower of her youth, he resolved to give himself entirely to God, saying: «Is this, then, how the grandeurs and the crowns of this world end? Then from this day forward I wish to serve a master who cannot die on me.»
Let us strive to live in such a way that it will not be said to us at death, as it was said to that fool in the Gospel: «Stulte, hac nocte animam tuam repetent a te, et quae parasti cuius erunt?» — "Fool, this night your soul shall be required of you; and the things you have prepared, whose shall they be?" (Luke 12:20). Wherefore St. Luke concludes: «Sic est qui sibi thesaurizat, et non est in Deum dives» — "So is he who lays up treasure for himself and is not rich toward God." And then He says: Strive to make yourselves rich, not in the world with possessions, but in God with virtues and merits, which are goods that will be eternal with you in heaven: «Thesaurizate vobis thesauros in coelo, ubi neque aerugo neque tinea demolitur» — "Lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither rust nor moth destroys." And therefore let us labor to acquire for ourselves the great treasure of the divine love. «Quid habet dives, si caritatem non habet? Pauper si caritatem habet, quid non habet?» — "What has the rich man, if he has not charity? What does the poor man not have, if he has charity?" says St. Augustine. If a man has all riches and has not God, he is the poorest in the world. But the poor man who has God has everything. And who has God? He who loves Him: «Qui manet in caritate, in Deo manet, et Deus in eo» — "He who abides in charity abides in God, and God in him" (1 John 4:16).
Affections and Prayers
Ah, my God, I no longer wish the devil to have dominion over my soul; You alone I wish to be its master, and to rule it. I wish to leave all to acquire Your grace. I esteem it more than a thousand crowns and a thousand kingdoms. And whom have I to love, if not You — infinite loveliness, infinite good, infinite beauty, goodness, and love? In the past I left You for creatures; this is, and will always be, a grief that will pierce my heart — to have offended You, who have loved me so much. But after You have bound me, my God, with so many graces — no, I cannot believe I shall ever see myself deprived of Your love. Take, my love, all my will and all that is mine; make of me whatever pleases You. If in the past I have been troubled by adverse things, I ask Your pardon for it. I wish to complain no more, my Lord, of Your dispositions; I know that they are all holy and all for my good. Do, my God, what You will; I promise always to call myself content with it, and always to thank You for it. Make me love You, and I ask You for nothing more. What goods! What honors! What world? God, God — I want God alone.
Blessed are you, O Mary, who in this world loved nothing but God! Obtain for me that I may accompany You at least in this life that remains to me: in You I trust.