Alexandre Descatoire, Monument to Franz von Sales, 1924, Annecy
Available from Ignatius Press and Thriftbooks. You can read this book for free on Christian Classics Ethereal Library!
Book Length: 360 pages
In all ages of the Church there has been an inherent need for spiritual guidance aimed directly at the layfolk, who have always composed the majority of the Church Militant. Oftentimes this guidance was given to the faithful by the clergy through sermons, advice given in the confessional, and for those more intentional in their desire to progress in the spiritual life, through conversation with their spiritual director. These sources of guidance have unfortunately become less accessible than they once were, given the dramatic fall of vocations ever since the so-called “New Pentecost”—well can it be repeated that, “The harvest indeed is great, but the labourers are few” (Matthew 9:37). There, of course, remains another option yet unmentioned, and one that does not require the presence of a priest or a religious: the reading of pious books. However, as many of these texts were written by religious for religious, or by priests for priests, the task of implementing their lessons has proved rather difficult for persons living in the world; this can equally be said of the laymen who lived in the Age of Faith and those who live in this secular Dark Age. Thus the need for lay-oriented works on the spiritual life has presented itself throughout the ages, and in writing Philothea, St. Francis de Sales left for his time and posterity a magnificent contribution.
While expounding the nature of devotion in the beginning chapters of the text, the sainted Bishop of Geneva expresses the truth that though devotion is one, it must be practiced differently according to one’s state in life:1
(9)
In the creation God commanded the plants of the earth to bring forth fruit, each after its kind; and in a similar way He commands Christians, who are the living plants of His Church, to bring forth the fruits of devotion, each according to his calling and vocation. There is a different practice of devotion for the gentleman and the mechanic; for the prince and for the servant; for the wife, the maiden, and the widow; and still further, the practice of devotion must be adapted to the capabilities, the engagements, and the duties of each individual. It would not do were the Bishop to adopt a Carthusian solitude, or if the father of a family refused like the Capuchins to save money; if the artisan spent his whole time in church like the professed religious; or the latter were to expose himself to all manner of society as the Bishop must do. Such devotion would be inconsistent and ridiculous.
What is pious for the layman is not necessarily pious for the professed religious; nor is what is pious for the professed religious necessarily pious for the layman. Of course, it is no sin for persons in the world to admire monastic penances, nor to be inspired by the devotion of a good priest to his breviary; but, what St. Francis is communicating to us is that we who live in the world must not allow ourselves to be carried away by imitating these good examples to the point of producing bitter zeal. Instead, we must seek after the spirit of piety which animates the works and faith of those who can truly say with St. Paul that, “the world is crucified to me, and I to the world” (Galatians 6:14). It is this attitude which will help us to adapt that which is proper to our state and disregard that which is improper, that we may be the saints whom God made us to be, not the ones we imagine ourselves to be. Let us have faith and pray for this intention, and the Holy Ghost will hear us and aid us in obtaining this true spirit of piety, for it is He who grants it.
We should not falter in our time, wherein everything seems so dreary, for though it is true that the profession of vows is a great armament against the malice of the world, we should not fall into the error that a pious life is impossible simply because we have so little good example in our shockingly irreligious modern world. A great number of the saints who stand before the throne of God are those who were martyred under the Great Persecution of Diocletian; most of these, it ought to be borne in mind, were living in the lay state in a society that was thoroughly pagan. What was their secret? For them as for us, St. Francis provides us the key to this mystery:
(222)
Be ready, then, to suffer heavy afflictions, if need be, martyrdom itself, for Christ’s sake; determine to give to Him all that is dearest to you when He pleases to take it—father, mother, brother, husband, wife, child, the sight of your eyes, and your life itself; to all such submission your heart should be disposed. But as meanwhile Divine Providence does not try you with such severe and heavy afflictions, and does not require your eyes, give Him at least your hair; that is to say, meekly endure all little evils, trifling inconveniences, and unimportant losses, which happen daily; for by using these little opportunities with a good and loving purpose you will overcome your heart and have it entirely under control.
To be capable of suffering great things for Christ, one must first suffer little things for His sake; undoubtedly the glorious martyrs of the Great Persecution, such as St. Sebastian and St. Agnes, had before their hour of death a steady trail of good works which had been made possible precisely by their suffering through the small trials of their lives for Him. If they had refused these little crosses and lived lukewarm spiritual lives instead, they would have ended up like numerous other Catholics of their time, who instead of embracing the great crosses offered to them, chose the comfortable options of burning incense before idols and handing over copies of the Scriptures to the pagan Roman governors. While those who persevered in their sufferings became saints, those who persevered in their cowardice became the traditores, a Latin term from which we have obtained a very odious word: “traitor”. Of these two groups, which can be found in every persecution of the Church, Our Lord rightly said, “For he that will save his life, shall lose it: and he that shall lose his life for my sake, shall find it” (Matthew 16:25).
One may see an anticipation of St. Thérèse’s “Little Way” in St. Francis’ teaching, and this is true in some respect. Yet as the aforementioned example illustrates, this secret of the spiritual life has been with us since the time of the Early Church; though in fact, it has been with us since the beginning of Christianity. It has only been rediscovered and represented time and time again with the passing of each generation, and this process will continue until the end of the world.
There are many subjects in this work upon which St. Francis provides practical advice. For the sake of brevity, however, the treatment of the topics of friendship and anxiety will be examined here, as there are many today who experience immense struggles in these departments.
Concerning friendship, the sainted Bishop of Geneva instructs us that while we should “…neither forsake nor despise friendships to which nature and duty call you amongst relations, connections, benefactors, and neighbors…” (178) we should seek to form friendships only with those who can exchange “virtuous love” with us (177). Explaining the importance of these pious friendships, he adds:
(178)
In a well-regulated convent, the general end of all is true devotion, and such individual communication is unnecessary, lest it lead to partiality; but it is needful for those who are in the world, and seek after virtue, to bind themselves together in a holy and sacred friendship, by means of which they encourage, stimulate, and forward one another in doing good. Just as those who journey in the plain do not need assistance from one another, but those who are on steep and slippery paths support each other for security’s sake, so those who are professed religious do not require private friendships; but those in the world need them, to aid and succor one another in the many evils and dangers which they encounter.
Observe then these words which emanated from the mind of this ray of charity! The sixteenth century, for all its ills real and imagined, was certainly a more religious age than our own—thus how much more so does this advice apply to ourselves, in an age which has prided itself on its ignorance of God! We then have all the more need of sound and pious friendships in order to navigate a world which has become far more anti-Catholic than could have been possibly conceived by St. Francis or his contemporaries. But as the world has become more irreligious, it has also become more unnaturally isolating. It follows from modern man’s worship of technology that he is increasingly alienated from his fellow man; for by alienating ourselves from our Creator, we will inevitably alienate ourselves from His creatures. Therefore, friendships founded upon He who is Love will ground ourselves and our friends in His truths; thus we shall rediscover the joy of true friendship together in a time where it is daringly doubted by cynical unbelievers. In a society which has degenerated to commercializing everything, pious friendships transcend the spirit of the world in this respect too; for they not only exchange that intangible currency of human connection, but also that similarly mysterious yet also intangible currency of prayer.
In St. Francis’ chapter on anxiety, the light shines through the pages no less than the previous example. After defining anxiety as “the soul’s greatest enemy, sin only excepted” (272), he explains why this is so in the following words:
(Ibid)
Anxiety proceeds from an ill-regulated desire to be free from the evil we experience, or to acquire the good to which we aspire; nevertheless, nothing aggravates evil and hinders good so much as anxiety and worry.
Therefore, the good saint instructs us that:
(Ibid)
…if you earnestly desire to be delivered from some evil, or to attain to some good, above all things calm and tranquilize your mind, and compose your judgment and will; then quietly and gently pursue your aim, adopting suitable means with some method.
Anxiety must, as St. Francis tells us, not be delivered by diversion (for this is to yield to it), but instead to compose ourselves in peace and go about our affairs. In our age where there are more distractions—and thus more means of inducing anxiety in ourselves and yielding to it by diversions—this advice is especially needed. We must not seek to deliver ourselves through the false reality of the online world; we may use this world to good ends, this is true—but it must stop there. Aside from the sins of more immediate danger which one can encounter in that realm, there is also that sin of wasting time which is more easily committed because one can find licit means to “escape” their anxiety in that realm, as well as illicit ones. St. Francis instructs us, on the contrary, to use the time that God has generously given us, and use it to productive ends.
How much more value are St. Francis’ words than a thousand “self-help” books! For his advice is founded on the truths of nature and the Faith, whereas the advice of most modern authors is founded upon unstable grounds—mere opinion more often than less, and influenced by atheistic psychological theories. Together with the counsels found within these pages, the reflections and meditations of this book are animating, and filled with the charity that moved its author to inscribe the words of this text for his time and for posterity. This work is therefore an excellent guide to the spiritual life, no matter the length of time you have spent traveling on the narrow road. Do not let its title fool you; even if you have been practicing the Faith for many years, you will have something to learn from this “Introduction”!