How to Fight
Posted By Brother André Marie On October 17, 2012
Some Catholics are of the erroneous opinion that the Christian life does not entail fighting (even spiritually), and that all fighting of whatever sort is harmful. Others become consumed by the idea of combat and make it the whole, or nearly so, of their interior life. This, too, is an error.
Which error is worse is an academic question that does not interest me here.
To the former, I say that this quietistic tendency is condemned outright in scripture. Holy Job tells us “The life of man upon earth is a warfare” (Job 7:1). And to the spiritual pacifist, Saint Paul is positively truculent: “This precept I commend to thee, O son Timothy; according to the prophecies going before on thee, that thou war in them a good warfare” (1 Timothy 1:18). “For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty to God unto the pulling down of fortifications, destroying counsels” (2 Corinthians 10:3-4). “Let us run by patience to the fight proposed to us” (Heb. 12:1). “Fight the good fight of faith: lay hold on eternal life, whereunto thou art called, and hast confessed a good confession before many witnesses” (1 Timothy 6:12). “I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith” (2 Timothy 4:7).
It is part of the data of revelation that the Christian life entails fighting, so there is no question whether one who has the true faith is to fight or not. But there is the very large question that presents itself, and which I can hope only to touch upon in this little offering and is sequel: “How do we fight?” This is where we address the second of the two errors we outlined above, for if we must fight, we must fight well.
I know Catholics, both men and women, who spend very much of their time excessively angry at their own faults and the faults of others. Their irascible appetites — especially fear, despair, and anger — are too frequently in high gear. In extreme cases, these passions are the very motive force behind most or all of their actions and reactions in their every-day spiritual life. Such folks have too little patience with others, but especially with themselves. If they catch themselves, for instance, sinning against the commandments because they are angry, they become angry with themselves because of it, and on and on it goes. Now, a bow that is always taut will eventually snap; so, too, with the mind that is always tense.
Being a man primarily of choleric temperament, I entirely understand this dilemma. My confederates and I should listen to the sage words of our fellow choleric, Saint Francis de Sales, whose disciplined and grace-inspired self-mastery rendered him worthy of his informal titles, “Gentleman Doctor” and “Gentleman Saint”:
“Be patient with everyone but especially with yourself; I mean that you should not be troubled about your imperfections and that your should always have courage to pick yourself up afterwards. There is no better way of getting there in the end in the spiritual life than always starting all over again and never thinking that you have done enough.”
“Upon becoming aware of your imperfections, you should be displeased, but your displeasure should be humble, tranquil and peaceful, never violent and bitter, for such sentiments usually do more harm than good.”
What the Bishop of Geneva has just told us of meekness stands as a salutary lesson on that virtue (upon which he has much else to say), but it also suits a more general goal. It illustrates the truth that, for every vice that we can name, there is an opposite virtue we can also name, and this virtue ought to be a goal for us to acquire. As the Christian life is essentially and primarily an affirmation of the good, the true, and the beautiful, it is the acquisition of virtues, and not the eradication of vices, that ought to occupy our energies. Let the good reader take notice: I am not denying the need to eradicate vice; rather, I am affirming that the way to do it is by indirection — that is, by acquiring the opposing virtue.
This is called “fighting intelligently.” The person who erroneously thinks that the Christian ought not to fight confuses combat with the unwholesome and consuming wrath that disturbs our soul’s peace and tranquility. But we know that, even in non-metaphorical combat, such a thing is ineffective. The Kung-Fu practitioner who comes against a well-matched foe knows well that he must not lose his head. He must employ strategy, and strategy would include such things as attentiveness to one’s strengths and weaknesses (as well as those of his opponent), circumspection, planning, forethought, and prudence. Should he find himself boiling with hatred for the man he fights, he will let his passions get the best of him. He will get sloppy. He will lose.
Similarly, the general who whips his men into a fury and spurs them on to gorge themselves on the blood of their enemies will regret his failure to consider achievable goals, a well-reasoned battle plan, clear directives, and an exit strategy that will forestall a rout. In a word, the military arts require reflection, which is why good generals play chess, learn the history of great battles, and study in particular what they can of their opponent’s known tactics.
The attentive reader may be catching on to the fact that the spiritual combat requires a battle plan. He would be correct. Revelation essentially gives us this battle plan (e.g., the Sermon on the Mount), but it is useful to distil short guidelines that will help. Here is a very simple outline that will help the reader craft his own personal battle plan:
1. Procure a good examination of conscience and examine yourself with it. Do this routinely and determine what your predominant fault is. This helps in self-knowledge.
2. Name the demon, by which I mean your predominant fault. (Is it the vice of pride, covetousness, lust, anger, gluttony, envy or sloth?) Be specific. The exorcist gets a handle on the demon in an exorcism when he learns its name. Likewise, we get a handle on our evil tendencies when we name them. It’s also a good exercise in humility to tag such a terrible name to something you do.
3. Find out the virtue that’s opposed to that vice and strive to acquire it daily. Practice circumspection in noting (and avoiding) what occasions lead you to commit the sin, but, more importantly, resolve to commit acts of the virtue you’re trying to acquire. I mean resolve specifically to make particular acts by which you will acquire the virtue. E.g., “I will do three kind things for Ralph today.” (Ralph is the guy at work that gets you so angry you have to go to confession.)
4. Pray to acquire the virtue, and confess sins against it frequently — even venial sins.
It is good to remember that Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither were any of the saints.
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Article printed from Catholicism.org: catholicism.org
URL to article: catholicism.org/ad-rem-no-193.html
More on How to Fight
Posted By Brother André Marie On November 6, 2012
[Part I] [1]
The arts and sciences that lie behind all combat — be it Asian martial arts, boxing, team sports, or the life-and-death combat of warcraft — are habits. These are things acquired by study and/or repetition. Now, science requires knowledge and art requires skill. But what of morals? What do they require? Morals require virtues, which are also habits.
The Christian combat is no less serious a pursuit than these other forms of combat. In fact, it is by far the greater, as its goal is God Himself and failure means Hellfire. (Total failure, that is; partial failure merits Purgatorial fire — which is not pleasant either, but which terminates in heavenly beatitude.) Therefore, as the fighter or soldier acquires arts and skills to equip him for combat, we members of the Church Militant must, all the more, acquire virtues for the Christian combat.
But the Christian life is more than the practice of the moral virtues. If that were all it were, we would be Pelagians [2], not Catholics, by asserting that our acts matter more than God’s in the spiritual life. (Yes, the Pelagians, being essentially Stoic Christian heretics, did believe in virtue; they were not like modern libertines in that regard.) Contrary to Pelagius, we Catholic know that the Christian life is the life of grace. It is nourished by the sacraments and by prayer. Now, prayer includes not only vocal prayer, but also liturgical prayer, that is, the social prayer of the Church. By this, we especially mean the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, that self-immolating prayer of Jesus Christ the High Priest, which we participate in as members of His Mystical Body, the Catholic Church. Prayer also encompasses that intimate private prayer known as “mental prayer.” [3] In whatever form we find it, Christian prayer — if it be worthy of the name — unites us with the Holy Trinity through the sacred Humanity of Jesus Christ, who is “the way, the truth, and the life.”
Christianity is a life of union with God, or, if you will, a divine romance. It is not only the cloistered mystics of the Church, like Saint Teresa of Avila, who were meant to be ecstatically united to God. This union is actually the natural terminus of the life begun in Baptism.
There is another way of putting all this. When we consider the moral virtues, we come to the area of self-knowledge. Knowledge of self is very important for the acquisition of virtue and growth in holiness. However, without an indispensable and complementary knowledge, self-knowledge becomes useless, or, in the all-too-common case of narcissism, it is positively harmful.
Dependence on Jesus Christ and not on self, intimacy with Him in prayerful conversation, union with Him in the Blessed Sacrament: these and other integral parts of the life of grace point to that second knowledge, which is knowledge of the Triune God, for which it is necessary to have a knowledge of the Man-God, Jesus Christ.
In Saint Louis de Montfort’s thirty-three-day preparation for total consecrati [4]on [4], there are three weeks spent on knowledge of self, knowledge of Mary, and knowledge of Jesus Christ. Note that these are ascending gradations. That’s evident to any Christian. A deeper observation is that knowledge of self, to be authentic, must be knowledge of self in the light of God, of His truth, and of His standards as revealed to us through His infallible Church. Father Michael Jarecki, whose recent death [5] delayed this sequel, once said very memorably: “Do you know what adoration is? I’ll tell you. It’s BIG GOD and little me.” Such a definition of adoration is hardly scholastic, but it sure gets the point across with an admirable economy of words that is both evangelical and child-like.
This definition of adoration presumes that we recognize both our littleness and God’s bigness. Put another way: for us to surrender our infinitesimal selves to the Immensity of the Divine Trinity necessitates the two-fold knowledge of God and of self.
But what does this have to do with “how to fight”?
Jesus Christ fought and won the battle against sin, death, and hell. He achieved salvation for the human race. Of primary concern for us is union with Him, the great Victor. While self-knowledge is necessary for the life of grace, more important still is knowledge of Jesus Christ. He — the great Other and not the self — is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. This is the spirituality of Blessed Columba Marmion, who cut through much of the confusion of the devotional life in his day by focusing his disciples intently and ardently on Jesus Christ Himself. In our narcissistic age, where self-obsession is pandemic, focusing our gaze onto Jesus Christ, even to the forgetfulness of self, is of paramount importance.
Jesus said to Saint Catherine of Siena: “I am He Who Is, and you are she who is not.” Such an ontological lesson of sheer dependence upon His Majesty is very necessary for us if it was for her.
To Saint Teresa of Avila, Our Lord once appeared as a Child. When He asked her who she was, she responded: “I am Teresa of Jesus, who are you?” To which His Majesty responded: “I am Jesus of Teresa!”
We can imagine that Jesus could have made both of these utterances to each of these saints. Each had to learn the lesson of dependence on Christ and mistrust of self first. But each was elevated to an intimacy that would allow the Divine Bridegroom, Lover that He is, to identify His very Self with His bride.
Such is the divine condescension of the Trinity that dwells in us; such is His generous elevation of a mere creature to the height of union with Himself.
This union puts an end to all narcissism, to all selfishness. The “Disciple” expresses it well in The Imitation of Christ (IV, 13): “Ah Lord God, when shall I be completely united to You and absorbed by You, with self utterly forgotten? You in me and I in You? Grant that we may remain so together. You in truth are my Beloved, chosen from thousands, in Whom my soul is happy to dwell all the days of her life. You are in truth my pledge of peace, in Whom is the greatest peace and true rest, without Whom there is toil and sorrow and infinite misery.”
One might ask whether utterly forgetting self is not contrary to the genuine self-knowledge that is necessary for the Christian life. It is not, for this forgetfulness of self recommended in the Imitation is a knowledge of self in Christ. It is the “He must increase, but I must decrease” (John 3:30) of the Baptist. All comparisons limp, but I will venture one to illustrate the difference between an inadequate sort of self-knowledge and the Christian sort, which includes “self forgetfulness.” The reader is asked to imagine a masterful painting of himself, one that captures at the same time not only the external appearance of the subject, but also — as only a truly great artist can do — the internal realities of the soul. This image represents what I’ve called “inadequate self knowledge.” Next, the reader will see that same image, but this time as a small part of a colossal scene depicting the wonders of the natural and supernatural orders, including the eschatological realities and even the Holy Trinity Itself. The image of the self has not changed, but it is now put in relation to realities far larger than itself, realities that also ennoble and elevate the self into God’s eternity. That is knowledge of self in light of God.
The author of the Imitation has just told us that Jesus is our “pledge of peace, in Whom is the greatest peace and true rest.” And isn’t that the point of fighting? The Christian warrior, like the many canonized soldiers, is a man who wants peace, but who knows that the order requisite for peace sometimes has to be restored by force of arms. So, too, the spiritual combatant fights that he may rest in the peace of God.
Intimate union with the Conqueror of sin, death and hell assures us that ultimate victory, which is one good reason to be patient and even tranquil as the war rages ‘round us.
I would like to recommend an excellent book on the spiritual life called This Tremendous Lover [6]. It is the kind of volume that’s worth reading and rereading.
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Article printed from Catholicism.org: catholicism.org
URL to article: catholicism.org/ad-rem-no-195.html
URLs in this post:
[1] [Part I]: catholicism.org/ad-rem-no-193.html
[2] Pelagians: catholicism.org/pelagius-lives.html
[3] “mental prayer.”: catholicism.org/talk-mentalprayer.html
[4] preparation for total consecrati: store.catholicism.org/total-consecration-to-mary-cd.html
[5] recent death: catholicism.org/ad-rem-no-194.html
[6] This Tremendous Lover: store.catholicism.org/this-tremendous-lover.html
Thank you for this article. Sometimes we raise the ‘feeling’ of peace as an indication of a highest virtue; but this world under the ‘peace’ of the father of lies.
Christ’s Victory and therefore our victory if we cleave to the Cross, from tradition:
The Dream of the Rood
The poem is set up with the narrator having a dream. In this dream or vision he is speaking to the Cross on which Jesus was crucified. The poem itself is divided up into three separate sections: the first part (ll. 1-21), the second part (ll. 27-121) and the third part (ll. 122-156). In section one, the narrator has a vision of the Cross. Initially when the dreamer sees the Cross, he notes how it is covered with gems. He is aware of how wretched he is compared to how glorious the tree is. However, he comes to see that amidst the beautiful stones it is stained with blood. In section two, the Cross shares its account of Jesus’ death. The Crucifixion story is told from the perspective of the Cross. It begins with the enemy coming to cut the tree down and carrying it away. The tree learns that it is not to be the bearer of a criminal, but instead Christ crucified. The Lord and the Cross become one, and they stand together as victors, refusing to fall, taking on insurmountable pain for the sake of mankind. It is not just Christ, but the Cross as well that is pierced with nails. Adelhied L. J. Thieme remarks, “The cross itself is portrayed as his lord’s retainer whose most outstanding characteristic is that of unwavering loyalty. The Rood and Christ are one in the portrayal of Passion—they are both pierced with nails, mocked and tortured. Then, just as with Christ, the Cross is resurrected, and adorned with gold and silver. It is honored above all trees just as Jesus is honored above all men. The Cross then charges the visionary to share all that he has seen with others. In section three, the author gives his reflections about this vision. The vision ends, and the man is left with his thoughts. He gives praise to God for what he has seen and is filled with hope for eternal life and his desire to once again be near the glorious Cross.
Translation by Richard Hamer (1970)
1
Hear while I tell about the best of dreams
Which came to me the middle of one night
While humankind were sleeping in their beds.
It was as though I saw a wondrous tree
5
Towering in the sky suffused with light,
Brightest of beams; and all that beacon was
Covered with gold. The corners of the earth
Gleamed with fair jewels, just as there were five
Upon the cross-beam. Many bands of angels,
10
Fair throughout all eternity, looked on.
No felon’s gallows that, but holy spirits,
Mankind, and all this marvellous creation,
Gazed on the glorious tree of victory.
And I with sins was stained, wounded with guilt.
15
I saw the tree of glory brightly shine
In gorgeous clothing, all bedecked with gold.
The Ruler’s tree was worthily adorned
With gems; yet I could see beyond that gold
The ancient strife of wretched men, when first
20
Upon its right side it began to bleed.
I was all moved with sorrows, and afraid
At the fair sight. I saw that lively beacon
Changing its clothes and hues; sometimes it was
Bedewed with blood and drenched with flowing gore,
25
At other times it was bedecked with treasure.
So I lay watching there the Saviour’s tree,
Grieving in spirit for a long, long while,
Until I heard it utter sounds, the best
Of woods began to speak these words to me:
30
“It was long past – I still remember it -
That I was cut down at the copse’s end,
Moved from my root. Strong enemies there took me,
Told me to hold aloft their criminals,
Made me a spectacle. Men carried me
35
Upon their shoulders, set me on a hill,
A host of enemies there fastened me.
And then I saw the Lord of all mankind
Hasten with eager zeal that He might mount
Upon me. I durst not against God’s word
40
Bend down or break, when I saw tremble all
The surface of the earth. Although I might
Have struck down all the foes, yet stood I fast.
(OE 39) Then the young hero (who was God almighty)
Got ready, resolute and strong in heart.
45
He climbed onto the lofty gallows-tree,
Bold in the sight of many watching men,
When He intended to redeem mankind.
I trembled as the warrior embraced me.
But still I dared not bend down to the earth,
50
Fall to the ground. Upright I had to stand.
(OE 44) A rood I was raised up; and I held high
The noble King, the Lord of heaven above.
I dared not stoop. They pierced me with dark nails;
The scars can still be clearly seen on me,
55
The open wounds of malice. yet might I
Not harm them. They reviled us both together.
I was made wet all over with the blood
Which poured out from his side, after He had Sent forth His spirit. And I underwent
60
Full many a dire experience on that hill.
I saw the God of hosts stretched grimly out.
Darkness covered the Ruler’s corpse with clouds
His shining beauty; shadows passed across,
Black in the darkness. All creation wept,
65
Bewailed the King’s death; Christ was on the cross.
(OE 57) And yet I saw men coming from afar,
Hastening to the Prince. I watched it all.
With sorrows I was grievously oppressed,
Yet willingly I bent to those men’s hands,
70
Humbly. They took up there Almighty God,
And from the heavy torment lifted Him.
The soldiers left me standing drenched with moisture,
Wounded all over with the metal points.
They laid Him down limb-weary; then they stood
75
Beside the corpse’s head, there they beheld
The Lord of heaven, and He rested there
A while, tired after the great agony.
The men then made a sepulchre for Him
In sight of me. They carved it of bright stone,
80
And set therein the Lord of victories.
Next, wretched in the eveningtide, they sang
A dirge for Him; and when they went away,
Weary from that great Prince, He stayed alone.
(OE 70) Yet we remained there weeping in our places
85
A good long time after the warriors’ voices
Had passed away from us. The corpse grew cold,
The fair abode of life. Then men began
To cut us down. That was a dreadful fate.
In a deep pit they buried us. But friends
90
And servants of the Lord learnt where I was,
And decorated me with gold and silver.
(OE 78) Now you may understand, dear warrior,
That I have suffered deeds of wicked men
And grievous sorrows. Now the time has come
95
That far and wide on earth men honour me,
And all this great and glorious creation,
And to this beacon offers prayers. On me
The Son of God once suffered; therefore now
I tower mighty underneath the heavens,
100
And I may heal all those in awe of me.
Once I became the cruellest of tortures,
Most hateful to all nations, till the time
I opened the right way of life for men.
(OE 90) So then the prince of glory honoured me,
105
And heaven’s King exalted me above
All other trees, just as Almighty God
Raised up His mother Mary for all men
Above all other women in the world.
(OE 95) Now, my dear warrior, I order you
110
That you reveal this vision to mankind,
Declare in words this is the tree of glory
On which Almighty God once suffered torments
For mankind’s many sins, and for the deeds
Of Adam long ago. He tasted death
115
Thereon; and yet the Lord arose again
By his great might to come to human aid.
He rose to heaven. And the Lord Himself,
Almighty God and all His angels with Him,
Will come onto this earth again to seek
120
Mankind on Doomsday, when the final Judge
Will give His verdict upon every man,
What in this fleeting life he shall have earned.
(OE 110)Nor then may any man be without fear
About the words the Lord shall say to him.
125
Before all He shall ask where that man is
Who for God’s name would suffer bitter death
As formerly He did upon the cross.
Then they will be afraid, and few will know
What they may say to Christ. But there need none
130
Be fearful if he bears upon his breast
The best of tokens. Through the cross each soul
Nay journey to the heavens from this earth,
Who with the Ruler thinks to go and dwell.”
(OE 122)I prayed then to the cross with joyous heart
135
And eagerness, where I was all alone,
Companionless; my spirit was inspired
With keenness for departure; and I spent
Much time in longing. Now my hope of life
Is that I may approach the tree of triumph
140
Alone more often than all other men,
Honour it well; my wish for that is great
Within my heart, and my hope for support
Is turned towards the cross. I have on earth
Not many noble friends, but they have gone
145
Hence from earth’s joys and sought the King of glory.
With the High father now they live in heaven
And dwell in glory; and I wait each day
For when the cross of God, which here on earth
I formerly beheld, may fetch me from
150
This transitory life and carry me
To where there is great bliss and joy in heaven,
Where the Lord’s host is seated at the feast,
And it shall set me where I afterwards
may dwell in glory, live in lasting bliss
155
Among the saints. May God be friend to me,
He who once suffered on the gallows tree
On earth here for men’s sins. Us He redeemed
And granted us our life and heavenly home.
Hope was renewed with glory and with bliss
160
For those who suffered burning fires in hell.
(OE 150)The Son was mighty on that expedition,
Successful and victorious; and when
The one Almighty Ruler brought with Him
A multitude of spirits to God’s kingdom,
165
To bliss among the angels and the souls
Of all who dwelt already in the heavens
In glory, then Almighty God had come,
The Ruler entered into His own land.
Richard Hamer
A Choice of Anglo-Saxon Verse
www.english.ox.ac.uk/oecoursepack/rood/translations/hamer.html
This poem from the 8th century is part of a Catholic tradition that saw eliciting ‘compunction’ as a necessary part of conversion.
Compunction meaning: a momentary sorrow or regret for having done, or contemplated doing, something wrong. It may also be a slight feeling of remorse, without implying either complete repentance or a firm resolve not to do the same wrong thing again. (Etym. Latin compunctio, remorse, the sting of conscience.)