Repost: Tradition in Action Article on Dancing and Catholic Morality

From Tradition in Action
(http://www.traditioninaction.org/religious/k026pDance.html; accessed Jan. 3, 2017):

Unfortunately today, when we live in an atmosphere of complete moral tolerance for all the vices as a consequence of Council Vatican II, it is not rare to see a weak moral approach, even in conservative and traditionalist priests. Although these priests often take good positions on other topics, when it comes to dances, they orient their parishioners in a way that, before the Council, would hardly escape a reprimand.

Your question gives TIA the opportunity to provide an extended answer on the topic to help you and, also, those faithful who have uncertainties on the matter, so that laymen can clearly see what is correct and act accordingly.

This answer is based on the text by Fr. Théophile-Marie Ortolan O.M.I. – Oblates of Mary Immaculate – (1869-1937). He wrote an extensive article on dance for the Dictionnaire de Théologie Catholique - DTC, which is a collection quite prestigious for its scholarship. If any criticism were to be made of the general orientation of the DTC, it would be that it leans to liberalism in morals.

General principle

Dance is an art turned to express beauty with the means at its disposal. Now, any art, whatever it is, while it expresses beauty is not intrinsically bad. It becomes bad insofar as it is favors bad morals.

History

Dance has existed for as long as recorded history. To be fair, theologians have acknowledged that dance is basically a neutral activity. It can be either good or bad depending on the circumstances and the way it is done.



King David dances before the Ark of the Covenant; below, Salome performs to seduce Herod



The Old Testament gives us examples of good dance when the Jews incorporated choreography as a means to express religious piety. King David danced before the Ark of the Covenant, and some women of Israel would dance to celebrate the military victories of the Chosen People. However, strict rules applied to the activity, and it was standard for the Jewish men and women of the Old Testament to avoid the danger of sensuality by dancing separately, not together. These examples show that dance can, in an idealized form, be acceptable.

Outside of Israel, the situation was much worse. Many dances of the Greeks and Romans were conceived specifically to provoke sensuality. Often such dances were made in honor of pagan gods, such as Bacchus or Mercury, and ended in orgies. These pagan dances were condemned even by pagan writers, such as Cicero, who denounced dance as the last vice that follows all the other vices (gluttony, vanity, sensuality etc).

Due to the strong influence of Greek and Roman culture, these degenerate dances began to affect the Chosen People. Let us recall that, at the time of Our Lord, St. John the Baptist was beheaded as the result of a sensual dance that captivated King Herod, who promised Salome to grant her any request.

Teaching of the Church

By the time of Our Lord those good ancient Jewish dances had largely degenerated under the influence of the Roman and Hellenic cultures. Later, in the early Christendom, the bad leaven of pagan heathen dance led the Church to condemn dancing as unfit for Christians.




Bulgarian dancers show that sexes can dance together without embracing or dressing immodestly; below, Brazilian gaucho pairs prove the same thing

The Council of Laodicea (363 AD) forbade Catholics to join in wedding dances. The Third Council of Toledo (589 AD) condemned dancing at the commemorations on the eve of Saints’ feast days and repeated the warning for Catholics to avoid participating at weddings where love was the subject of songs or dances. The Council of Trullo (692 AD) excommunicated any layman who participated in theatrical dancing; it also deposed any cleric who did so.

Despite these condemnations a certain amount of liberty has been given for the innocent folk dances that preserve modesty. Children’s dances and military dances also fall into the category of dances permitted.

Fr. Ortolan quotes theologians who stress that dancing can be an occasion of sin, both for oneself and for others. One must be especially conscious of the sin that one may commit by inciting others to sensuality through dance.

Although some folk dances may fall into the category of innocent, it must be remembered that the waltz and the polka were condemned, since they involve embraces, a romantic atmosphere or even the interlacing of fingers. Passions that arise from such dances and balls are considered deliberately provoked temptations. Several theologians state that going to such dances is, at the least, to invite sins of sensuality, and, consequently, this risk may constitute a mortal sin against the virtue of prudence. The musician who provides the music for sensual dances is deemed unworthy of absolution.

Looking at more contemporary times, Ortolan and other theologians condemn the performing arts, such as ballet, that involve tight clothing, pastel or skin colored apparel and revealing or transparent dresses. Such attire alone is deemed a grave sin against modesty and this is often compounded by the illicit and immoral positions and movements that are part of the dance itself. It is not a mark of virtue that one’s sensitivity to such flagrant immorality has been dulled by overexposure to such immodesty, as is often the case today.

The author reminds us that in times when the Catholic Faith and acts of piety diminish, sins in dancing become the rule rather than the exception. He also notes that those who sin in dance are far more numerous than those who do not.

Modern dances



These immodest outfits and poses are not permitted by Catholic Morals

Given this information a few conclusions seem inevitable.

* When one considers the kinds of dances condemned in the 1920s and 1930s – the waltz, polka, ballet and masquerade balls – it is not difficult to see that most of the dances we find in the 20th and 21st centuries are not fitting for Catholics;

* Regrettably, almost all dances today are unacceptable by Catholic standards. Rock n’ roll, jazz, the twist, swing dancing, and nearly every other dance contrived in the last century – such as tango, samba, rumba, salsa, calypso and even more “conservative” dances like the blues, bolero and fox-trot – fall under the same restriction;

* More rigorously the dreadful-sensual movements that pass for dance in most nightclubs and the modern rock concerts should be rejected.

Criteria for parents

As a practical advice for parents, the general criteria to judge a good dance for a young woman and a young man are to check whether or not:

Basque dancers in colorful traditional dress


Below, Basque girls learning the traditional folk dances in the town square

1. The dresses are modest – no exposition of the body parts except the head, hands, lower arms and lower legs (skirts below the knees), no transparent or see-through clothing, no tight apparel that reveals the shape of the body, especially when it is skin colored;

2. The positions are appropriate – no close embraces where the bodies touch; no leaning of woman’s head on the man’s shoulder; no faces touching; no interlacing of fingers.

3. The movements are decent – no sensual twisting or vibration of the waist, no lifting of the legs or jumps that reveal what the dress covers, no fast twirling that allows the skirts to fly outward, no provocative positions of the derrières, no challenging protrusion of the breasts, no languid abandonment of the arms.

Let us conclude following the advice of St. Francis de Sales. If we have to attend a dance, we should try to counteract this risk by framing a pious state of mind. We should think about the many souls who went to Hell for dancing or sinned because of dancing.

We should take into consideration also the dissipating effect dances have on the mind of a Catholic, and think about those who, in contrast, profitably employ their time in prayer and meditation about God.

Even if one avoids the sins of vanity, immodesty, sensuality and indiscretion, we should remember what St. Francis de Sales said: Even the best of balls are of no value.

Cordially,

TIA correspondence desk

Repost: Fr. Peter R. Scott on Catholics and Dancing

From The Angelus Online (http://www.angelusonline.org/index.php?section=articles&subsection=show_article&article_id=1940; published March 2000, accessed Jan. 3, 2017):

Questions & Answers

Rev. Fr. Peter R. Scott

Q. How should Catholics view dancing?

A. The morality of recreational or social dancing is not a new subject, but one which saints and moral theologians have treated at length. The difficulty lies in the fact that the style, fashion and manner of dancing are in a a continual flux, and that this affects its morality.

All agree that dancing, in itself, is morally indifferent, and consequently that it is not in itself sinful, and that dancing of the right kind, under the right auspices can in itself be an innocent and even beneficial diversion. However, it is equally clear that it is very commonly a proximate occasion of sin in virtue of the circumstances that accompany the dancing, such as place, time, immodesty, company, let alone the sensual nature of many dances, and the intimate physical contact which is an immediate peril for the virtue of purity, and entirely opposed to the respect which is owed to the body, temple of the Holy Ghost.

The Catholic Encyclopedia of 1913 summarizes in this way the Church's teaching:

Undoubtedly old national dances in which the performers stand apart, hardly, if at all, holding the partner's hand, fall under ethical censure scarcely more than any other kind of social intercourse. But aside from the concomitants—place, late hours, décolleté, escorting, etc.—common to all such entertainments, round dances, although they may possibly be carried on with decorum and modesty, are regarded by moralists as fraught, by their very nature, with the greatest danger to morals. To them perhaps, but unquestionably still more to masked balls, should be applied the warning of the Second Council of Baltimore against "those fashionable dances which, as at present carried on, are revolting to every feeling of delicacy and propriety." (Vol. IV, p. 619)

Such is the Church's teaching concerning ballroom dancing, despite the fact that it can be a form of art. It must, at least in general and for most young people, be considered a proximate occasion of mortal sin, and consequently forbidden. However, square dances and folk dances, in which there is not the same intimate physical contact and pairing off, nor the same danger of bad company, are not a proximate occasion of sin and are consequently permissible. Ballet, as an art form, and expression of beauty, can be licit and permissible. However, it must be remembered that it is a sensual art form, and one in which the displaying of the body can be an occasion of sin both for performers and for the audience, and one in which vanity plays a large part, e.g., the ultra-slim figure required. It is consequently not an art form to be encouraged or patronized.

It goes without saying that modern dancing as commonly done these days, being animalistic and extremely sensual by its exclusive emphasis on rhythm at the expense of any ordered, harmonious, bodily movement, is always to be excluded as a proximate occasion of serious sin, in virtue of the music and dance itself, as well as the company and other circumstances. This includes dancing to rock music, and dancing to jazz accompaniment (i.e., swing dancing).

If any young people are so taken with the craze of dancing to hesitate to accept the Church's wisdom on the question, I suggest they read the following passage from the saint who liked to meekly catch flies with honey, and not vinegar, and whose understanding of the situation of people in the world is so clearly manifest in his spiritual direction. St. Francis de Sales had this to say:

In themselves, dances and balls are indifferent things. However, in actual practice they tend strongly toward the side of evil, and therefore are dangerous. 

People dance at night, and in darkened rooms. This favors certain familiarities. People stay up late and this results in their rising late the next day, causing the morning to be wasted. Consequently, they miss opportunities of serving God. Is it not foolish to turn night into day and day into night and to replace useful work with frivolous pleasure? Finally, at balls everyone tries to outdo everybody else in vanity, and vanity is favorable to the evil affections and dangerous loves which dancing so easily spawns. 

Philothea, what physicians say about mushrooms or pumpkins I say about dances: The best of them are not worth much! However, if you must eat pumpkins, be careful how they are prepared, eat only a little of them, and that rarely. In the same way, if you cannot give up going to balls, be careful how you dance, doing so with modesty, dignity and the right intention. Attend balls rarely, because no matter how carefully you conduct yourself at them, there is danger of excess in them, by becoming too attached to them. 

Because they are spongy, mushrooms are said to attract the surrounding rot. The same is true of balls and other such night-oriented gatherings. They usually attract sin: quarrels, jealousies, mockery; sensual loves. These activities open the pores of the heart to be poisoned by some loose word or some folly or some wanton glance of love. Yes, Philothea, such amusements are usually dangerous. They scatter one's spirit of devotion, weaken one's strength and chill one's charity. They awaken countless evil affections in the soul. Because of all this, use them with great caution. 

After eating mushrooms, one is advised above all to drink some good wine. I personally advise you to think some holy and good thoughts after a ball. These will counterbalance the bad impressions you may have received there. 

What are some such holy and good thoughts? While I was dancing, some people were burning in Hell for sins committed at dances or occasioned by their dancing. While I was dancing, monks, nuns and other fervent Christians were chanting God's praise and contemplating His beauty, thus using their time far more profitably than I was. While I was dancing, many souls departed from this world in great anguish; thousands were suffering dreadful pains in hospitals... While I was dancing; the time of my earthly life was hurrying by and death was approaching nearer. See how he mocks and invites me to his dance! In that dance I shall take but one step from this life to the next. (Introduction to the Devout Life, Part III, Ch. 33)

Spiritual Progress Requires Desire and Strategy

I wish I had learned earlier on the importance of two notions in all human achievement and especially in the spiritual life: 1) desire, and 2) strategy.

Desire is not simply vague wishfulness. It is tied to strategy. I desire some end. Now, I must take on the means to reach that end. This is strategy.

Strategy is a plan, concrete, experimental, testable. I propose tests to conduct, make records, adjust where needed, and continue. This is a heuristic process, self-correcting, like science. It is precisely what St. Ignatius of Loyola proposes in his Spiritual Exercises with the emphases on discernment and self-examination. Mental prayer is effective, says St. Alphonsus and St. Francis de Sales, to the degree that we make a concrete resolution, foreseeing possible difficulties and solutions.

Hence, I should always have a big picture strategy and smaller tactics to execute and organize that strategy on the concrete level from day to day. At different points, especially by the end of the day, I must go over the plan and the day, how it was executed, make records, note failures and successes, adjust where needed, and plan ahead.

Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange on Patience

[99] "In your patience you shall possess your souls." Luke 21:19

In the difficult periods through which we have to pass, we should remember what our Lord has told us about the virtue of fortitude, which is necessary that we may not be frightened by any menace, or arrested in the way of salvation by any obstacle. We shall treat here especially of the virtue of patience, which is the most frequent form under which fortitude of soul is exercised in the vexations of life. In the Christian it should be united to meekness, and in such a way that those who are naturally meek may learn to become strong, and those who are naturally inclined to the virtue of fortitude may become meek with the meaning given to the term by the evangelical beatitude: "Blessed are the meek." Thus both will ascend toward the same summit, although by different paths [....]

Patience and Longanimity, Twin Columns of the Interior Life

Patience, says St. Thomas (cf. Summa Th., IIa IIae, q. 135, a. 1), is a virtue attached to the virtue of fortitude, which hinders a man from departing from right reason illumined by faith by yielding to difficulties and to sadness. It makes [100] him bear the evils of life with equanimity of soul, says St. Augustine (De patientia, chap. 2), without allowing himself to be troubled by vexations. The impatient man, no matter how violent he may be, is a weak man; when he raises his voice and murmurs, he really succumbs from the moral point of view. The patient man, on the contrary, puts up with an inevitable evil in order to remain on the right road, to continue his ascent toward God. Those who bear adversity that they may attain what their pride desires, have not the virtue of patience but only its counterfeit, hardness of heart.

By patience the soul truly possesses itself about the fluctuations of the sensible part depressed by sadness. The martyrs are in the highest degree masters of themselves and free. In patience is met again something of the principal act of the virtue of fortitude: the enduring of painful things without weakening. It is more difficult and meritorious, says St. Thomas, to endure for a long time what keenly vexes nature than to attack an adversary in a moment of enthusiasm [1]. It is more difficult for a soldier to hold out for a long time under a shower of bullets in a cold damp trench than with all the ardor of his temperament to take part in an attack. If the virtue of fortitude bears the blows that may cause death, as we see in the soldier who dies for his country and still more in the martyr who dies for the faith, the virtue of patience endures unflinchingly the contradictions of life (cf. Summa, IIa IIae, q. 136, a 4). Thus we see that this virtue of patience is the guardian of other virtues; it protects them against the disorders that impatience would cause; it is like a buttress of the spiritual edifice. [...]

To have patience as a solid virtue, man must be in the state of [101] grace and have charity, which prefers God to everything else, no matter what the cost. For this reason St. Paul says: "Charity is patient" (1 Cor. 13:4).

If the contradictions of life last for a long time without interruption, as happens in the case of a person forced to live with someone who continually tantalizes him, then there is need of longanimity, a special virtue resembling patience. It is called longanimity because of the length of the trial, the duration of the suffering, the insults, all that must be borne for months and years.

As St. Francis de Sales points out (Introduction to a Devout Life, Pt. III, chap. 3: Of Patience), patience makes us preserve equanimity of mind in the midst of the variableness of the diverse mishaps of this mortal life. "Let us frequently call to mind," he says, "that as our Lord has saved us by patient sufferings, so we also ought to work out our salvation by sufferings and afflictions, enduring injuries and contradictions, with all possible meekness.... Some are unwilling to suffer any tribulations but those that are honorable: for example, to be wounded in battle.... Now these people do not love the tribulation, but the honor wherewith it is accompanied; whereas he that is truly patient suffers indifferently tribulation, whether accompanied by ignominy or honor. To be despised, reprehended, or accused by wicked men, is pleasant to a man of good heart; but to suffer blame and ill treatment from the virtuous, or from our friends and relations, is the test of true patience.... The evils we suffer from good men are much more insupportable than those we suffer from others" (ibid.). 

To practice this virtue in a manner that is not stoic but Christian, we should often recall the patience of Christ on the cross, which surpasses human thought. For love of us He endured the most severe physical and moral sufferings, which came to Him from the fury of the priests of the Synagogue, from abandonment by His people, from the ingratitude of His own, from the divine malediction due to sin, which He willed to bear in our place as a voluntary victim. May the patience of our Savior preserve our souls according to the words of St. Paul: "And the Lord direct your hearts, in the charity of God and the patience of Christ" (cf. II Thess. 3:5). As a German proverb says, [102] patience yields roses and ends by obtaining all: "Geduld bringt rosen."

When we have to practice this virtue in prolonged trials, we should remember the teaching of the saints, that sufferings well borne are like materials which compose the edifice of our salvation. Sufferings are the portion of the children of God in this life and a sign of predestination: "Through many tribulations we must enter into the kingdom of God," we are told in the Acts of the Apostles (14:21). It is essential to know how to suffer calmly without excessive self-pity. Those who share most in the sufferings of Christ will be most glorified with Him. Sometimes an act of great patience before death is sufficient; this is the case of many dying persons who are reconciled to God a few days or hours before their last breath.

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Source: Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, Three Ages of the Interior Life, vol. 2, trans. by M. Timothea Doyle (Rockford, IL: TAN Books, 1989),  99–102.

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Footnotes:

1. As St. Thomas says, IIa IIae, q. 123, a. 6 ad 1um: "Endurance is more difficult than aggression for three reasons. First, because endurance seemingly implies that one is being attacked by a stronger person.... Secondly, because he that endures already feels the presence of danger, whereas the aggressor looks upon danger as something to come.... Thirdly, because endurance implies length in time, whereas aggression is consistent with sudden movements."

Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange on the Spirit of Confidence in Providence

The spirit that should animate our self-abandonment to Providence

Is it a spirit that depreciates our hope of salvation in the plea of advanced perfection, as the Quietists claimed? Quite the contrary: it must be a spirit of deep faith, confidence, and love.

The will of God, as expressed by His commandments, is that we should hope in Him and labor confidently in the work of our salvation in the face of every obstacle. This expressed will of God pertains to the domain of obedience, not of self-abandonment. This latter concerns the will of His good pleasure on which depends our still uncertain future, the daily occurrences in the course of our life, such as health and sickness, success and misfortune.

To sacrifice our salvation, our eternal happiness, on the plea of perfection, would be absolutely contrary to that natural inclination for happiness which, with our nature, we have from God. It would be contrary to Christian hope, not only to that possessed by the common run of the faithful, but also to that of the saints, who in the severest trials have hoped on "against all human hope," to use St. Paul's phrase (Rom. 4:18), even when all seemed lost. Nay, to sacrifice our eternal beatitude in this way would be contrary to charity itself, by which indeed we love God for His own sake and desire to possess Him that we may eternally proclaim His glory. [...]

Far from it: self-abandonment involves the exercise in an eminent degree of the three theological virtues, faith, hope, and charity, as it were fused into one. [1]

It is nevertheless true to say that God purifies our desire from the self-love with which it may be tinged by leaving us in some uncertainty about it and so inducing us to love Him more exclusively for His own sake.

We should abandon ourselves to God in the spirit of faith, believing with St. Paul (Rom. 8:28) that "all things work together unto good" in the lives of those who love God and persevere in His love. Such an act of faith was that made by holy Job [....]

In the same spirit Abraham prepared to sacrifice his son in obedience to God's command, abandoning himself in the deepest faith to the divine will of good pleasure in all that concerned the future of his race. We are reminded of this by St. Paul when he tells us in the Epistle to the Hebrews (11:17): "By faith Abraham, when he was tried, offered Isaac: and he that had received the promises offered up his only begotten son (to whom it was said: in Isaac shall thy seed be called), accounting that God is able to raise up even from the dead." Far less exacting are the trials we have to endure, though on account of our weakness they sometimes seem to weigh heavily upon us.

At any rate, let us believe with the saints that whatever the Lord does He does well, when He sends us humiliations and spiritual dryness as when He heaps honors and consolations upon us. As Father Piny remarks, nowhere is there a deeper or more lively faith than in the conviction that God arranges everything for our welfare, even when He appears to destroy us and overthrow our most cherished plans, when He allows us to be calumniated, to suffer permanent ill-health, and other afflictions still more painful. [2] This is great faith indeed, for it is to believe the apparently incredible: that God will raise us up by casting us down; and it is to believe this in a practical and living way, not merely an abstract and theoretical way. [...] Every one of us must by humility be numbered among [the] little ones, among those that hunger for divine truth which is the true bread of the soul.

While fulfilling our daily duties, then, we must abandon ourselves to almighty God in a spirit of deep faith, which must also be accompanied by an absolutely childlike confidence in His fatherly kindness. Confidence (fiducia or confidentia), says St. Thomas (IIaIIæ, q.129, a.6), is a steadfast or intensified hope arising from a deep faith in the goodness of God, who, according to His promises, is ever at hand to help us—Deus auxilians [NB: "helping/healing God"—a reference to the merciful omnipotence of God]. [3]

As the psalms declare: "Blessed are they that trust in the Lord" (2:12); "They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Sion: he shall not be moved forever that dwelleth in Jerusalem" (124:1); "Preserve me, O Lord, for I have put my trust in Thee" (15:1); "In Thee, O Lord, have I hoped, let me not be confounded" (30:1).

St. Paul (Rom. 4:18) reminds us how Abraham, in spite of his advanced years, believed in the divine promise that he would be the father of many nations, and adds: "Against hope, he believed in hope. . . .  In the promise also of God he staggered not by distrust: but was strengthened in faith, giving glory to God: most fully knowing that whatsoever He has promised, He is able to perform." [...]

As Father Piny notes, to do one's duty in all earnestness and then to resign oneself with entire confidence into our Lord's hands is the true mark of a member of His flock. What better way can there be of hearkening to the voice of the good Shepherd than by constantly acquiescing in all that He demands of us, lovingly beseeching Him to have pity on us, throwing ourselves confidently into the arms of His mercy with all our failings and regrets? By so doing, we are at the same time placing in His hands all our fears for both the past and the future. This holy self-abandonment is not at all opposed to hope, but is childlike confidence in its holiest form united with a love becoming ever more and more purified.

Love in its purest form, in fact, depends for its support upon the will of God, after the example of our Lord who said: "My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me, that I may perfect His work" (John 4:34); "Because I came down from heaven, not to do My own will, but the will of Him that sent Me" (John 5:30). Thus no more perfect or nobler or purer way of loving God can be found than to make the divine will our own, fulfilling God's will as expressed to us and then abandoning ourselves entirely to His good pleasure. For souls that follow this road, God is everything: eventually, they can say in very truth: "My God and my all." God is their center; they find no peace but in Him, by submitting all their aspirations to His good pleasure and accepting tranquilly all that He does. At times of greatest difficulty St. Catherine of Siena would remember the Master's words to her: "Think of Me and I will think of thee."

Rare indeed are the souls that attain to such perfection as this. And yet it is the goal at which we all must aim. St. Francis de Sales says:

Our Lord loves with a most tender love those who are so happy as to abandon themselves wholly to His fatherly care, letting themselves be governed by His divine Providence, without any idle speculations as to whether the workings of this providence will be useful to them, to their profit, or painful to their loss, and this because they are well assured that nothing can be sent, nothing permitted by this paternal and most loving heart, which will not be a source of good and profit to them. All that is required is that they should place all their confidence in Him. . . . When, in fulfilling our daily duties, we abandon everything, our Lord takes care of everything and orders everything. . . .  The soul has nothing else to do but to rest in the arms of our Lord like a child on its mother's breast. When she puts it down to walk, it walks until she takes it up again, and when she wishes to carry it, she is allowed to do so. It neither knows nor thinks where it is going, but allows itself to be carried or led wherever its mother pleases. So this soul lets itself be carried when it lovingly accepts God's good pleasure in all things that happen, and walks when it carefully effects all that the known (expressed) will of God demands. [4]

Then it can truly say with our Lord: "My meat is to do the will of Him that sent Me" (John 4:34). Therein it finds its peace, which even now is in some sort the beginning of eternal life within us—inchoatio vitæ æternæ.

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Notes:

1. Certain authors have spoken of the virtue of self-abandonment. In reality the act of self-abandonment has its source not in a special virtue, but in the three theological virtues combined with the gift of piety.

2. In the lives of many saints we see how the appalling calumnies they had to endure became, by God's permission, the occasion of a marvelous increase in their love for Him.

3. We are especially reminded of this, the formal motive of hope, in the name of Jesus, which means Savior, and in various titles given to the Blessed Virgin: Help of Christians, Refuge of Sinners, Our Lady of Perpetual Help.

4. St. Francis de Sales, Spiritual Conferences, tr. by Mackey, O.S.B., Conference II, p. 25. The interior conviction expressed in this passage, as proceeding from the theological virtues and the gifts of the Holy Ghost, far surpasses any theological speculation.

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Source: Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, Providence, trans. by Dom Bede Rose (Rockford, IL: TAN Books, 1998), 230-236.

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.

Dom Vitalis Lehodey on God's Will of Good-Pleasure

"There is also His will of good-pleasure which we must look for in all events. I mean to say, in everything that befalls us: in sickness, in death, in affliction, in consolation, in adversity and prosperity; briefly, in all unforeseen occurrences" (St. Francis de Sales). [...] It is in tribulations especially we must recognise [sic] the will of God; not that He loves these for their own sake, but He employs them as an effective means of vindicating right order, of remedying our failings, of healing and sanctifying our souls. [...] He wills to draw good out of evil, and, with that object in view, to make our own and our neighbour's [sic] shortcomings serve for the sanctification of souls through the practice of penitence, patience, humility, mutual support and forbearance, etc. He wills also that we should sustain our neighbour [sic] even whilst fulfilling in his regard the duty of fraternal correction, [...] seeing in his necessities and his faults the instruments God makes use of to exercise us in virtue. On this account, St. Francis de Sales does not hesitate to declare that it is chiefly through our neighbour we learn what God demands of us. The signified will of God differs profoundly from His will of good-pleasure in three respects:

Firstly, the signified will is always made known to us in advance, and as a rule very clearly, by the usual expressions of thought, viz., speech and writing. Thus we have the Gospels, the laws of the Church, our holy rule; we can at our convenience read therein the will of God, commit it to memory, and make it the subject of our meditation. [...] On the other hand, we hardly ever know God's will of good-pleasure otherwise than through the sequence of events. The qualified expression--hardly ever--is employed, because to this rule there are real exceptions. Thus we can be certain beforehand as to what God intends to do in the future, if He has been pleased to inform us. One may also acquire this knowledge by presentiment, by conjecture, or surmise, either from the actual trend of affairs, or from wise precautions taken, or from imprudences [sic] committed. But in general the divine good-pleasure is only revealed by the course of events which ordinarily lie beyond our prevision. Even during the actual occurrence of events God's will for us may remain obscure. For instance, He sends us sickness, spiritual aridity, or some other such trial. This, we know, is His present good-pleasure. But for how long? And what is to be the issue? We know not.

Secondly, it is always in our power either by obedience to conform to the signified will or to withdraw ourselves therefrom by disobedience. [...] By His will of good-pleasure, on the contrary, He disposes of us as our Sovereign Master. Without consulting us, often even against our wishes, He puts us in the position He has chosen, and under the obligation of discharging the duties thereof. It remains in our power indeed to satisfy this obligation or not, to conform ourselves to the divine good-pleasure or to revolt against it; but whether we like it or not, we have no choice save to submit to the sequence of events, the course of which can be arrested by no earthly power. Thus, as Supreme Ruler and Judge, God restores order and punishes sin; as Father and Saviour [sic], He reminds us of our dependence, and endeavours [sic] to recall us to the paths of duty as often as we wander out of them and lose our way.

Thirdly, from what has been said it follows that God demands obedience to His signified will as an effect of our own free choice and determination. [...] We require no doubt a secret grace which forestalls and assists us, a grace which we can always obtain by prayer and fidelity. But the will of God being clearly indicated, when the moment for its fulfilment [sic] arrives, we have to act by our own free determination; there is no need to wait for a sensible movement of grace or for a special motion of the Holy Spirit [....] On the other hand, if there is a question of the will of good-pleasure, we must wait until God declares it by the course of events. Before this is done, we cannot tell what He requires of us. But then we understand what that is clearly enough: submission to His good-pleasure in the first place, and next the discharge of the duties appertaining to such or such a position chosen for us by Him.

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Source: Dom Vitalis Lehodey, Holy Abandonment, trans. by Ailbe J. Luddy (Rockford, IL: TAN Books, 2003), 10-13.