Holiness of Life - Extracts

[Shin]

The death of St. Bonaventure:

Despite the efforts of physicians Bonaventure continued ill. Prayers and masses were offered up at the urgent request of the Pope, but Bonaventure grew worse. As it became apparent to the Pope that Bonaventure was fast sinking, he administered the last Sacraments. Knowing that he was unable to swallow, the patient begged the Holy Father to place the Consecrated Host beside him, so that his eyes might rest upon the sacramental species. Then was witnessed a marvellous happening. The Sacred Host took to itself motion, and moving slowly, left the ciborium and came and rested on the breast of the Saint. A moment later it sank out of sight into the dying Bonaventure's breast. Nine days after falling ill he died.

Two hundred years later, April 14, 1482, he was canonised. Still one hundred years later Sixtus V declared him a Doctor of the Universal Church. Posterity calls St. Bonaventure the Seraphic Doctor, but let it be remembered that he was so called even in his own day. To look upon him, we are told, was to love him. To listen to him was to listen to words burning with love for God His works inspire love for God. What wonder then that Pope Sixtus V gave his approbation and put his seal to the general encomiums, and with solemn decree ordered St. Bonaventure to be honoured for all time as the SERAPHIC DOCTOR.

From St. Bonaventure's book of advice to religious women:

TRUE SELF-KNOWLEDGE

The spouse of Christ who longs to become perfect must begin with her own self. She must put aside, forget everything else, and enter into the secrecy of her own heart. When she has done this, let her sift narrowly all her weaknesses, habits, affections, actions and sins. She must weigh everything carefully, and make a thorough examination of past and present. Should she discover even the least imperfection, let her weep in the bitterness of her heart.

Negligence, passion, and malice are the root causes of sin. When we realise, dear mother, that our sins and imperfections originate from one or other of these three causes, we enter on the way to an exact understanding of ourselves; but unless in our recollection of past offences we put our finger on the precise cause of each sin, we shall never reach the goal of perfect self-knowledge.

Perfect self-knowledge, I feel sure, is the object you propose to yourself. You wish, helped by such knowledge, to bewail your past transgressions. Since this is so you cannot do better than proceed as follows. First, discover by reflection whether you are occasionally or habitually negligent. Recollect whether the control of your heart is slipshod and hap hazard. Are you careless in the use of your time? Is the intention you propose to your self habitually imperfect? Examine diligently on these three heads, because it is of the utmost importance that you govern your affections, that you spend your time profitably and always and in every action have a good and becoming object or end in view.

Recollect how negligent you have been in the discharge of your duties: prayer, reading, and the like. Remember that the performance of these tasks and the cultivation of these practices demand your best energies if you are to produce and bring forth worthy fruit in due season. [c.f. Ps. 1:3] It is of little avail to excel in one practice, if you fail in the others. Go on with the examination and recall to mind your neglect of penitential exercises, your negligent attitude towards temptation and sin, as also your general disregard for the means of perfection. To reach the Promised Land you must weep with grief at the thought of the sins you have committed. Further, you must resist temptations to evil, and you must "advance from virtue to virtue." [Ps. 83:8] Take to heart these principles and you will be able to form a true estimate of your negligence.

Should you wish to pursue the subject and know yourself still better, take another look at yourself and ask whether your interior promptings tend towards pleasure, curiosity or vanity.

There is an evident weakness for pleasures of sense when a religious looks eagerly for what is sweet, for instance, savoury dishes. A similar weakness prevails when she is anxious for what is soft and comforting: fine clothing; or things gratifying to or soothing the flesh, as, for example, luxuries. You may know for a certainty that the handmaid of the Lord is a victim of inquisitiveness when she longs to fathom secrets, to gaze on pleasurable and beautiful objects, and to possess quaint and precious things. To seek the esteem and the good opinion of others, to look for the praise of men and to be anxious for the honors in their gift: the presence of any or all of these tendencies in a spouse of Christ shows a vain mind. O handmaid of Christ, shun these proclivities as poison, for they are the springs or founts of evil!

You will complete the examination and understand yourself thoroughly if you discover whether you nourish or have nourished within your breast the malice of anger, envy, or sloth. Please pay attention to what I have to say.

Anger or irascibility is surely nourished in the heart when the thoughts, whisperings, spoken words, emotions, gestures or features of a religious are tinged with even the slightest coloring of animosity or indignation against another. Envy holds sway in a man when he feels joyful at another's misfortune or is sad when better things come his neighbour's way. The envious man rejoices at another's troubles and is cast down when all goes well with him. Sloth cannot be mistaken. It is sloth that inclines the religious to lukewarmness, drowsiness, unpunctuality, laziness, negligence, remissness, dissoluteness, want of devotion, sadness, or weariness. The spouse of God must have a holy horror of these things and avoid them as deadly poison. In them lurks the ruin of both soul and body.

O handmaid, beloved of God, if perfect self-knowledge is your aim, reflect! "Enter into your heart and learn to value yourself at your proper worth. Discuss with yourself what you are, what you were, what you ought to be, and what you can be. Note what you were originally, what you are now through your own fault, what on the contrary good efforts ought to have made you, and what you still may be by correspondence with grace."

Listen, dear mother, to the Prophet David proposing himself as an example to you. "I meditated in the night with my own heart and I was exercised and I swept my spirit."  [Ps. 76:7]

He meditated with his heart. Do you the same. He swept his spirit. Sweep yours. Cultivate this field. Fix your eyes upon your own self. Without doubt, if you keep up this exercise you will find the hidden treasure of priceless worth. [Cf. Matt. 13:44] A golden increase will come to you. More and more will your knowledge be widened and your wisdom strengthened. Be faithful to this exercise and the eye of your heart will be cleansed, the acumen of your mind developed, and your intelligence enlarged. If you do not know your own dignity and condition you can not value anything at its proper worth. One must first take thought upon one's own soul if the angelic and divine natures are to be correctly estimated and esteemed. If you are not able to reflect upon yourself, how will you be fitted to investigate the things above you? If you are not yet worthy to enter the first tabernacle, how will you have the effrontery to enter the Holy of Holies?"

If you wish to be lifted up to the second and third heavens, [c.f. 2 Cor. 12:2] you must pass through the first, that is, you must pass through your own heart. How this is possible, and how it ought to be done, I have already explained. In addition, here is a piece of excellent and illuminating advice from St. Bernard: "If you are earnestly desirous of uprightness and perfection examine continually and think well on your way of living. Notice how much you advance in virtue and how much you fall away. Examine into your conduct and the sentiments that inspire you. Look and see how like to God you are, and how unlike I How near to God, and alas, how far away from Him!"

Oh, how dangerous a thing it is for a religious to wish to know much and yet not to know himself! How near death and perdition is that religious who is keenly interested in getting to the bottom of things, or as a spiritual guide lives to solve the doubts and perplexities of distressed souls, yet does not know himself nor his own state! O my God, whence comes such blindness in a religious? I will tell you. I have the reason at my finger-tips. A man whose mind is distraught in its anxieties for others has no memory for himself. His imagination is so clouded with pictures of other persons and things that he cannot form an idea of his own state. The allurements of unlawful passions so fascinate him that he never gets back to himself with a longing for interior sweetness and spiritual joy. Things of sense so possess his whole being, that he can no longer enter into himself, as the image of God. Thus entirely wretched, not know ing himself, he knows nothing.

Put everything else aside and learn well and bear in mind what you are. For such self-knowledge St. Bernard prayed: "God grant that I may know nothing if I do not know my own self."