Dom Vitalis Lehodey on Persecutions from the Good

"To be despised, reprehended, and accused by sinners is a joy to a man of courage," says St. Francis de Sales. "But to be reprehended, accused, and ill-treated by good people, by one's friends and relatives: Ah, this is in truth the test of virtue. As the sting of a honey-bee causes more pain than the bite of a common insect, so the troubles and contradictions we have to endure from well-meaning folk are more bitter than any others" (Introduction to the Devout Life, pt. 3, chap. 3). St. Peter of Alcantara, full of compassion for St. Teresa, assured her that one of the greatest afflictions we can suffer in this place of exile was the trial she had experienced, that is to say, opposition from the good. Is it because we value more highly the esteem and affection of such persons? Is it because this trial is more unexpected? Or is it because, being just, these people act according to their conscience, and believe it is their duty to show no consideration for our feelings? Whatever be the origin and circumstances of these bitter trials, the following reflections will help us to sanctify them.

"All the saints have suffered persecution in this life," says St. Alphonsus. "Think of St. Basil, accused of heresy before Pope St. Damasus; St. Cyril, condemned as a heretic by a council of forty bishops, and then ignominiously deposed; St. Athanasius, pursued with accusations of witchcraft; St. John Chrysostom, charged with immorality. Think of St. Romuald: he was above a hundred years old, yet was accused of a crime so execrable that people wanted to burn him alive. Think of St. Francis de Sales: for three years he was believed to have lived in criminal relations with a worldly person, and waited three years for God to clear his reputation. Think finally of St. Lidwine, into whose chamber a wretched woman one day intruded and vomited against her a thousand reproaches, each more scandalous than the preceding." Everyone knows how [...] St. Benedict narrowly missed being poisoned by his monks [....] St. Francis of Assisi resigned his office of superior because of the opposition he encountered from his disciples: his vicar-general, Brother Elias, had the effrontery [NB: shameless, rude boldness; arrogance] to accuse him before a large number of the religious of ruining their Institute. This same Elias caused St. Anthony of Padua to be cast into prison. St. Ignatius of Loyola suffered the humiliation of being confined in the dungeons of the Holy Office. St. John of the Cross, after reforming Carmel, was locked up in a dark cell by the fathers of his Observance; and there, deprived of the consolation of celebrating Holy Mass, he had to endure for many long months very rigorous abstinence, humiliating disciplines, and the bitterest reproaches. For the same reason, and also because of the extraordinary ways in which God was leading her, St. Teresa the Elder [i.e. of Avila] had to support the heavy trials whereof we catch a glimpse in her autobiography. Her confessor, Balthazar Alvarez, also suffered serious annoyance on account of his supernatural prayer. We could cite numberless other examples. But we shall conclude with St. Alphonsus. During many years he was pitilessly persecuted, as a theologian by the rigorists, as the founder of the Redemptorists by the royalists, and finally by two of his own religious, as we have already stated. Baronius relates how Pope St. Leo IX permitted himself to be prejudiced against St. Peter Damian. "I mention this," adds the illustrious annalist, "to console the victims of venomous tongues, to recommend prudence to those who are over-credulous, and warn them of the danger of lending too easy an ear to calumnies, particularly against persons with a long and honourable [sic] life to their credit" (cited in Fr. Poulain, Graces of Prayer, chap. 24).

Such persecutions are apparently due to the diversity of human minds and characters. [...] Sinners cannot endure the sight of virtue, let it be ever so modest and unobtrusive, because it condemns them, troubles them, demands their conversion. Good people, because they have not as yet sufficiently mastered their passions, which is the case with the majority, allow themselves to be blinded and misled, sooner or later, [against] peace and charity. Thus, Father Francis de Paul, the principal persecutor of St. Alphonsus, was far from being a bad religious. He had, on the contrary, a very edifying past, and would doubtless have been greatly astonished, if it had been foretold to him that he would one day endeavour [sic], with a zeal worthy of a better cause, to ruin his illustrious and saintly founder by insinuating, venomous, and slanderous reports. He actually fell to this depth, nevertheless, because he did not sufficiently combat the passion of ambition. Perhaps until then he had not even suspected its presence in his heart. But the saints themselves, even the very greatest, can be the cause of suffering to each other, whether through misunderstanding, or because of their different conceptions of duty. For men will always differ in their views and dispositions. [...]

Jesus has warned that His coming meant the sword and not peace, and that a man's enemies would be those of his own household. He was persecuted, and called Beelzebub. The disciple is not above his master. [...] The Apostle echoes the words of his Master: "All who would live piously in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution" (2 Tim. 3:12). But, concludes the Saviour [sic], "blessed are those that suffer persecution for justice' sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. When they shall revile you and persecute you and speak all that is evil against you untruly, for My sake, be glad and rejoice, for your reward is very great in heaven. For so they persecuted the prophets that were before you" (Mt. 5:10-12). But what is the object Providence pursues by means of such purifying trials? It wills to mark all its works with the Sign of the Cross, to detach us from human esteem and affection, to exercise us in patience, in complete abandonment, in love for God alone, and to perfect the sanctity of Our Lord's most devoted friends. [...]

Providence employs the vicious and the virtuous as its instruments to reproduce in us Jesus outraged, contemned, shamefully ill-treated. But at the same time the Holy Spirit offers us His grace, and works in us, to make us imitate Jesus meek and humble of heart, Jesus full of gentleness and heroic charity. To walk with resolute steps in the footprints of the persecuted Jesus is to enter on the ways of sanctity. To murmur and complain, and to follow Him reluctantly, is to drag oneself painfully along in uneasiness and mediocrity. [...]

Let us, therefore, forget our human adversaries and all the wrongs we may seem to suffer from them. Let us banish from our hearts every feeling of bitterness and spite. With our eyes fixed on the persecuted Son of God, on Jesus our Model and the Well-Beloved of our souls, let us adore like Him all the decrees of His Father Who is our Father also. Let us lovingly embrace both the trials He sends us and their already existent and irreparable effects, endeavouring the while, in order to draw from them the greatest possible advantage, to enter into the dispositions of our sweet Jesus, and to act in every circumstance as He would do in our place. This will not prevent us [...] from doing all in our power to avoid the danger or to deprecate its consequences, if that should be pleasing to God, as often as His glory, the good of souls, or other just causes may seem to require or permit it. [...]

[Blessed Henry Suso] said to him again: "It is God's will that, when you are outraged by words or actions, you should suffer all patiently. He wants you to die completely to yourself, and requires that every day before taking your repast you should approach your adversaries and do your best to appease their anger by the meekness and humility of your language and behaviour [sic].... You must not believe them to be Judases in the true sense of the word, but only God's instruments in trying you for your own benefit."

St. Alphonsus, when condemned by the Pope on unjust accusations, and actually expelled from the Congregation he had founded, permitted himself no complaint, no recrimination. He simply spoke these words of heroic submission: "For the past six months I have been repeating this prayer: Lord, whatsoever Thou willest, that I will also." And, with a heart broken yet fully resigned, he submitted to remain an exile until his death, because such was the will of God. Far from harbouring [sic] ill-feeling against his persecutor, he wrote to him as follows: "I have learned with joy that the Pope showers his favours [sic] upon you. Please let me always know whenever any good fortune befalls you, so that I may return thanks to God for it. I pray Him to increase His holy love in you, to multiply your houses, and to bless both yourself and your missions." In this trial, as in all other difficult circumstances, he began by asking the prayers of his Congregation, and recommending each religious to renew his fervour [sic], so that they might have the protection of God. [...]

At the height of his persecutions, St. John of the Cross welcomed reproaches with joy, because he believed himself deserving of still worse treatment. It seemed to him that he could never suffer injuries enough. He longed for the hour when he was to receive the bloody discipline, impatient to endure the pain and disgrace of it for the love of God. He considered himself so full of defects, guilty of so many sins, that he never dreamed of resenting affronts and outrages, or of regarding them as cruel or unjust. Although his interior pains at this time were still more severe, he found consolation in his intimate communings [sic] with God and in the composition of his admirable canticle, which he explained later on.

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Source: Dom Vitalis Lehodey, Holy Abandonment, trans. by Ailbe J. Luddy (Rockford, IL: TAN Books, 2003), 220-226.