Our Last and Perfect Day

I want to lead you through some simple thought experiments.

First, imagine your "perfect day." Imagine that God (or if it's too hard even to imagine that God would be so kind, then you can imagine a genie instead) granted you one perfect day. Briefly go through that day.

Second, imagine your "last day" as though that day were to be the last of your life. You are not necessarily at the end of your life, old in age; instead, imagine for example that tomorrow were your last day, and after that you knew you would die. Briefly go through that day.

Now, I want you to reflect on what you imagined, and I want to suggest that if you imagined either of these days to be rosy, carefree, processing in the way you wished, or filled with recollection or consolation, where everything seems to go well, sin is avoided, good deeds done, prayer fervent, relations all well, if you even imagined that you woke up in a positive, healthy state (or did you even notice how you woke up when you imagined your days?)—I want to suggest that you actually shouldn't imagine your perfect or last day to be like this. If you equate these days with being on your "best," I will suggest that your "best" doesn't have to do with how you feel, and in fact, your "best" will be what you do in spite of how you feel.

Perhaps many of us wake up already with some sort of stress or burden—lack of sleep, or poor sleep; anxious dreams; immediate worries and plans of the day ahead barge into the mind; problems from the previous day or week creep in; stomach ache or headache. Maybe someone or something else rudely wakes you up. Maybe you sleep through your alarm, and you jolt up to realize you're late to some responsibility. Panic is your first state. Perhaps feelings of humiliation and self-loathing follow. Imagine, also, that you were given the realization that this would be the start of your last day.

Imagine that on the last day of your life, you got into the same petty arguments you normally get into; the misunderstandings that seem to occur when you least expect; the mistakes and embarrassments that always seem to return no matter what resolutions you've made and how often. Imagine people were just the way they always are—most don't care about you; perhaps they don't even extend "common" courtesies, which means they are no longer common.

Thus, we have a tendency to romanticize our perfect day and our last day. We have a tendency to think that everything will go as we hope it will go. We don't ever realize the extent to which these hopes bias even how we imagine this perfect or last day to unfold, right from our rising from bed.

But actually, we have to realize that every day is potentially our last day. And regardless of whether it ends up being our last day or not, we must treat it as though it were our last day. We must give up the romantic idealization that we'll wake up perfectly rejuvenated, with no concerns, or at least with all the feeling of preparation for the concerns and duties that face us for that day. We must give up the idea that every move we make will be elegant and graceful, that every interaction we have will go smoothly and be edifying, that every prayer will be fervent and focused and pious. We must take the day as it is given, and it is given by Providence. How I feel here and now does not form the basic constitution of my day but what I will do with it.

What I will do in spite of what I feel and what the circumstances present, against all my hopes and romantic dreams of when I think I'm doing my very best as opposed to what God believes is my very best. Here we have to realize that my very best is not what I think it to be but is realized by the grace offered me here and now in the everything-but-ideal day. My cooperation doesn't make the less-than-ideal rosy and smooth but helps me die to the expectation that my happiness depends on rosy conditions, that my life is lived best when it is lived most pleasurably, even in spiritual matters, such as fervent prayer and spiritual consolation in the heart.

Therefore, with God's grace, we must use all the vigor of our will power to embrace the present moment. This is called fidelity to grace and the grace of the present moment. This is the point of the practice of the presence of God. This is the way of the Cross, the narrow way, and the only way to happiness.

Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange on the One Thing Necessary

[4] As soon as a man seriously seeks truth and goodness, this intimate [interior] conversation with himself tends to become conversation with God. Little by little, instead of seeking himself in everything, instead of tending more or less consciously to make himself a center, man tends to seek God in everything, and to substitute for egoism love of God and of souls in Him. This constitutes the interior life. No sincere man will have any difficulty in recognizing it. The one thing necessary which Jesus spoke of to Martha and Mary (Luke 10:42) consists in hearing the word of God and living by it.

The interior life [...] is something far more profound and more necessary in us than intellectual life or the cultivation of the sciences, than artistic or literary life, than social or political life. [...]

[The] interior life, or the life of the soul with God, well deserves to be called the one thing necessary, since by it we tend to our last end and assure our salvation. [...]

There are those who seem to think that it is sufficient to be saved and that it is not necessary to be a saint. It is clearly not necessary to be a saint who performs miracles and whose sanctity is officially recognized by the Church. To be saved, we must take the way of salvation, which is identical with that of sanctity. There will be only saints in heaven, whether they enter there immediately after death or after purification in purgatory. No one enters heaven unless he has that sanctity which consists in perfect purity of soul. Every [5] sin, though it should be venial, must be effaced, and the punishment due to sin must be borne or remitted, in order that a soul may enjoy forever the vision of God, see Him as He sees Himself, and love Him as He loves Himself. Should a soul enter heaven before the total remission of its sins, it could not remain there and it would cast itself into purgatory to be purified.

The interior life of a just man who tends toward God and who already lives by Him is indeed the one thing necessary. To be a saint, neither intellectual culture nor great exterior activity is a requisite; it suffices that we live profoundly by God. [...] If people sacrifice so many things to save the life of the body, which must ultimately die, what should we not sacrifice to save the life of our soul, which is to last forever? Ought not man to love his soul more than his body? "Or what exchange shall a man give for his soul?" our Lord adds (Matt. 16:26). "One thing is necessary," He tells us (Luke 10:42). To save our soul, one thing alone is necessary: to hear the word of God and to live by it. Therein lies the best part, which will not be taken away from a faithful soul even though it should lose everything else.

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Source: Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, The Three Ages of the Interior Life, trans. by M. Timothea Doyle (Rockford, IL: TAN Books, 1989), 4–5.

St. Teresa of Avila and Holy Folly

How I wish ours [our reason] would make us dissatisfied with this habit of always serving God at a snail's pace! As long as we do that we shall never get to the end of the road. And as we seem to be walking along and getting fatigued all the time—for, believe me, it is an exhausting road—we shall be very lucky if we escape getting lost.... Would it not be better to get the journey over and done with? ...

When we proceed with all this caution, we find stumbling blocks everywhere; for we are afraid of everything, and so dare not go farther.... For the love of the Lord, let us make a real effort: let us leave our reason and our fears in His hands and let us forget the weakness of our nature which is apt to cause us so much worry.... Our task is only to journey with good speed so that we may see the Lord.

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Source: St. Teresa of Avila, Interior Castle, trans. by Allison Peers (Sheed & Ward), III Mansions, ii; Peers, vol. II, 226.

Conversion for the Modern Man

Few Catholics get most of their information or influence from God, the Scriptures, or Church teaching. Most are far more aware of and inclined to listen to secular leaders, pop musicians, entertainers, sports figures, and the general cultural din. And this is where they develop even their most critical insights about God, family, sexuality, and many significant moral questions.

Source: Msgr. Charles Pope, "The Extraordinary Form of the Mass and the Evangelization of the Culture," Archdiocese of Washington blog, June 8, 2014, accessed June 26, 2014, http://blog.adw.org/2014/06/the-extraordinary-form-of-the-mass-and-the-evangelization-of-the-culture/.

The process of conversion for the modern man, where conversion is always a twofold movement of changing the orientation of the heart away from sin and towards God (metanoia), inevitably will mean moving away from worldly and demonic sources and towards heavenly ones for the inspiration and formation of our worldview, sentiments, and actions. Our progress can be measured by what habitual forms of thinking, speaking, and acting we refer to in day-to-day life. In other words, as the Spirit of God works through us and His inspirations become "connatural" to our way of being, we will know whether we are moving away from or towards God.

The pinnacle of our modernity is the comfort of civilization advanced in its technology, resting on a foundation of modern science and modern philosophical-political ideology after the Enlightenment. How we arrived at this point is irrelevant for understanding conversion, but the point is that at the root of modern life is the seeking of comfort through technological products. This seeking of comfort is so deeply ingrained in our collective consciousness that evil is now primarily defined as that which goes against personal comfort; in other words, evil has been reduced from what properly refers to moral depravity to a scale of feelings deemed negative. Abortion is legitimate in this view because the child would be inconvenient; gay marriage is legitimate because it is the only way for a homosexual couple to be happy and live in the comfort of their mutual affection; religion in the public square is evil because it dictates against the individual's way of life; rape is evil because it violates a person's bodily, psychological, and personal integrity as well as the right to consensual relations. Etc.

Therefore, the process of conversion for the modern man will include a progressive realization of this tendency to seek pleasure and avoid pain, even to the point of mortal sin and justifying that sin. The Christian Faith reveals to us the antithesis of the modern lifestyle: it sees physical evil as a true deprivation but ultimately nothing compared to the evil of sin. Its goal is not comfort but conformity to God, transformation in Christ, connaturality with the movements of the Holy Ghost. It desires that God's name be glorified through the establishment of His kingdom first in the individual soul and then collectively among the nations. This establishment occurs only where God's will is done in all joyful obedience, sustained by the spiritual nourishment that God provides us, above all in the Holy Eucharist. The channel of grace remains open to those who psychologically and spiritually prepare themselves by letting go of resentment and bitterness through the forgiveness of others' sins against us. Finally, it demands that we begin to reconstruct our environment such that it becomes the most conducive towards recollection and true Christian spirituality, that it becomes a place fostering holiness and holy desires. It requires that we remove ourselves from occasions of sin, temptation, and the deliberate participation in both explicitly evil and implicitly spiritually harmful activities and ways of life. This process is summarized in the Our Father in reverse order of its petitions, where the end (the glory of God) is always first in intention but last in execution for the beginner:

Deliver us from evil: we beg for the grace to begin the process of conversion while cooperating with that grace to remove ourselves from the explicit evil in our lives as far as possible.

Lead us not into temptation: we beg for grace to overcome temptation while cooperating with that grace to remove occasions of sin and setting up an environment conducive to holiness.

As we forgive others their trespasses: we are taught humility and forgiveness, the two necessary conditions for receiving God's grace, which begins with God's forgiveness of our sins.

Forgive us our trespasses: This is the moment of justification and the continual strengthening against our vices through receiving the grace of Confession.

Give us this day our daily bread: We beg for the reception of daily strength to grow in our spiritual lives, to persevere, especially through sacramental and spiritual Communion. It is only through the strength that comes from grace that we can do any of these things but above all God's will.

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven: Strengthened and nourished by the Eucharist and the graces of Confession, we resolve to do God's will. We beg for the grace to know and do God's will in all things.

Thy kingdom come: The consistent doing of God's will is the establishment of God's kingdom in the soul. Where God's will is done, there God reigns. When this commitment to God's will becomes collective, God's kingdom is shared among many individuals.

Hallowed be Thy name: This is the goal of all our striving: the glory of God. This is what we work towards in our service of God. We beg for the grace that this end become a reality in us individually and collectively. This petition demands right worship of God, full assent to His self-revelation, and the joyful accomplishment of His commandments and counsels (to those called to religious life) or even the spirit of the counsels (to the rest), the keeping of which is necessary for spiritual perfection.

Concretely, the beginning of this process involves removing ourselves from all sources of comfort that distract us from God. In this point lies the difficulty of the modern man's conversion: his technological advancements, rather than providing time and space for leisure, serve as an unending means of distraction and agitation from leisure for God. The evil of modern comfort lies not in the comfort itself but in that it is used to distract us from conversion to God and from the facing and repenting of our sins. Here are many things that keep us from God:

Movies, TV, YouTube and other online media entertainment, Facebook and other social websites, video games, including those on cell phones, texting, email, reading useless material, such as newspapers, magazines, books not necessary for professional or spiritual purposes, sports, gambling, radio, secular music (even sacred music removed from its properly sacred context, such as listening to Gregorian chant outside of the liturgy or personal devotional use, where it doesn't belong);

Recreational drug use and alcohol and tobacco;

Sexual activity outside of its procreative function in Holy Matrimony, pornography, eroticism, dating, flirtation, immodesty, tattoos, piercings, vain focus on the body through make-up or dying the hair;

Junk foods and fast foods, sodas, many "juices," coffee or tea that isn't part of a legitimate meal (outside of which becomes a sign of a harmful addiction).

Here are some behaviors that keep us from God:

Swearing and cussing, thoughts and words of hostility, gossip, competitive behavior, threatening, jokes at the expense of others.

Here are some ways we can make prayer constant throughout the day:

Weekly and/or daily Mass, arriving with time to prepare and giving time afterwards for thanksgiving, dressing modestly and reverently, wearing the Miraculous Medal or Brown Scapular or other medals of the Saints, praying the Jesus Prayer, praying Lauds, Vespers, or Compline, praying the Angelus, the Rosary, praying for souls in Purgatory and those in danger of hell.

For more, see: http://chastitysf.com/index.html

At What Cost?

Perhaps some of us have difficulty in committing to the spiritual life because we have little sense of responsibility. A sense of responsibility follows an awareness of some pressing and important task to be completed, the failure or neglect of which would result in something unfavorable. The greater the task, the greater the potential failure, but also the greater the potential success—and hence, the greater the sense of responsibility. This sense of responsibility, which follows from a true perception not only obligation but its consequences, is different than the resentment of workaholics, who work to hide within the busyness of their work from what they must actually take responsibility for—their brokenness.

It's easy to put off the responsibility of cooperating with God's grace in becoming transformed to our fullest potential in God for His glory and the salvation of souls because we do not see and hence do not believe that there are any serious consequences to neglecting our interior life. Hence what Christ said to the Samaritan woman, He says to us all: "If you but knew the gift of God!" (Jn 4:10). If we knew what was offered to us and Whom was offering it to us, we would have asked Him, and He would have given us living water. But because we do not know, we do not ask. The paradox, of course, is that we must ask to know and know to ask.

Perhaps many of us believe that if we put off praying today or persevering in being more charitable, more self-giving, more noble and generous, everything will be all right since we have tomorrow. There is always time, we think, because our lives are relatively stable and predictable. And in the trap of predictability, we become stagnant, like J. Alfred Prufrock, and perhaps even end up like Richard Cory.

But everything is affected. St. John of the Cross warned us: imperfection leads us imperceptibly but surely to venial sin, which disposes us bit by bit for mortal sin. A trickle adds up over time, the same time that we think we have to change. Not only do we reject God's infinitely wise and noble plan for us, but we spurn those that we could have helped if only we had cooperated with God. How many more souls could we have touched; how many more prayers and sacrifices could we have offered—if only we were generous and realized that the time we have now is the time that affects everything, everywhere. The smallest prayer said now, in good faith, only in heaven shall we see its effects. Dr. Peter Kreeft said that he believes if we saw the effect of one such a small prayer throughout the entire world, we would fall to our knees and never rise for the rest of our lives, deep in intense prayer and rapt admiration for how God uses such seemingly-insignificant means to effect great change in the world.

When we come closer to God through this little sacrifice or that little act of virtue, the angels rejoice, devils fly, and the entire Mystical Body of Christ is strengthened, like medicine being administered through its veins because the mouth opened to receive the pill, the hand accepted the medicine, the throat swallowed, the heart pumped blood, the lungs breathed to aid the heart, etc. Everything works together. And when we become holy, we change the entire fabric of the universe by aiding it in its goal of transformation to become a symphony to God's glory.

For this reason did Fr. Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalene, the renowned spiritual theologian of the early 20th century, recommend that someone beginning to read the works of St. John of the Cross begin with his Spiritual Canticle or the Living Flame of Love because these books show us the glorious end that holiness attains to. With the end in mind, we might persevere because we see how precarious the situation is, how much danger we truly are in, how much progress there is to be made, how close the devils are to us but as well as the angels, how intense the struggle is over each and every soul.

But stuck in the day-to-day monotony and gray of work and technology, it's easy to forget that anything is really happening. It's easy to disbelieve that monotony has been sanctified by Christ's Resurrection. It's easy to forget that gray, like all the other colors, glorifies God. Some of us want yellow and blue and green and red all the time, thinking that these colors matter more somehow. But Christ spent thirty years with the grey—or the brown wood, if you prefer—to show us that each has its proper place—the red for the Passion and the gold and white for the Resurrection.

And so Christ also told us, surely knowing how easily we are prone to forget, since He knew how easily the Israelites forgot the covenant they had with God, "For what doth it profit a man, if he gain the whole world, and suffer the loss of his own soul? Or what exchange shall a man give for his soul?" (Mt 16:26; Mk 8:36; Lk 9:25). Remember: "If thou didst know the gift of God, and who he is that saith to thee, Give me to drink; thou perhaps wouldst have asked of him, and he would have given thee living water."

"Why, Richard, it profits a man nothing to give his soul for the whole world... but for Wales?"

Religious vs. Spiritual: St. Thomas Aquinas on Approaching God

I went to a brilliant lecture last night given by Br. Thomas Aquinas Pickett of the Order of Preachers on being "religious" vs. "spiritual" and what St. Thomas Aquinas's conception of both are as well as how we approach God. The talk got me thinking about how part of the difficulty with today's meaning of "religion" and "religious" are tied with the other dichotomy between religion vs. secular, a political concept. I don't know enough on the topic to comment further, so I leave this here as a reminder to myself to look into it sometime...in the future...

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Here's a breakdown of Br. Thomas's presentation (from what I remember, so I hope to re-present the material as accurately as possible):

Today, spirituality often refers to affective experience in the presence of the transcendent. Because these experiences are to be found across religions and systems of thought, spirituality connotes "openness" to other religious experience and doctrine. Spirituality emphasizes the personal (i.e. a personal relationship to the divine rather than an impersonal one). Spirituality is a way of living. Spiritual people will say things like, "I put God (or my relationship with God) above religion/Church/the Bible/doctrine."

Religion is thought of as a "thing," a structure or organized body, either of beliefs or the institution that upholds those beliefs. It connotes tradition, ritual, dogma. Religion is often compartmentalized in the typical life of a modern person, on equal plane with other activity, such as work. Religious people will say things like, "It is the truth of faith that matters, and this must be practiced consistently, no matter how I feel," or "We know God only through the Bible/the Church/religion/doctrine, etc."

Typically, people who emphasize the spiritual more than the religious are "liberal" (in a loose sense of the word). People who emphasize the religious more than spiritual are "conservative."

Interestingly, there are not an insignificant number of people who try to have the "best of both sides," of spirituality and religion, and see aspects of both as necessary.

Preface to how Aquinas would respond to the religion/spirituality dichotomy: it's impossible to talk about one thing in Aquinas because all things are organically united in a whole. To speak about religion, it is necessary to speak about the moral life, through which humans attain their proper happiness and flourishing. Furthermore, how we understand religious and spiritual today was not at all how St. Thomas did. It will be necessary to understand first what St. Thomas meant by these terms before we apply them to the contemporary discussion.

Spiritual for Aquinas = non-physical; thus the realm of intellectual being and activity proper to God, angels, and men.

Religion for Aquinas = a virtue, either acquired or infused (or both), specifically, the potential part of the virtue of Justice that renders to God what is due to Him, namely, honor and reverence, which has two internal acts ((1) devotion, (2) prayer), and several external acts, divided into: 1) bodily reverence, 2) offerings, and 3) the receiving of things.

One is "religious" insofar as one has the virtue of religion. Virtue is a habit, which is an interior disposition of the soul to do good, according to the dictates of right reason (and for infused religion, we must qualify, right reason enlightened by faith). Virtue makes what is good easy, prompt, and joyful to do. But notice, a virtue becomes such in us only insofar as it becomes part of our being, insofar as it is we accomplish the good as though it were second nature, not a struggle. When we are struggling to make a good act, we know that the virtue is not yet ingrained in us.

Devotion, which is the promptness of the will to serve God, is the soul of religion; by prayer, which is the lifting of the mind to God, according to St. John Damascus, we subject ourselves to God and confess our dependence on Him.

It should be clarified that latria (λατρεία, a Greek term that Latin Christianity kept in its integrity as its sacral language developed) literally means "service." Our proper worship of God is our proper service under His command, doing His will. Further, devotion, or the willingness to serve God, is not merely some intellectual aptitude but incorporates the best in the human sensitivity to what is true, good, and beautiful—all the stirring and moving experiences of life and nature, the comedic and tragic, that point us most poignantly to God—these are incorporated into devotion in its full intellectual and affective whole.

Without these internal acts, all exterior acts of religion, whether acquired or infused, are rendered sterile.

Infused religion comes through sanctifying grace and is closely related to the theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity. By infused religion, we may transform our actions to give them sanctifying and meritorious efficacy (Br. Thomas didn't use these words since the talk was at the popular level); by this virtue, we transform our actions into a kind of perpetual worship, offering all to the Triune God, and receiving Him above all in the Sacraments and in supernatural prayer.

Infused religion also adds a very specific difference to acquired, or natural, religion: sacred revelation shows us how to worship God properly, and we learn how through the Church, who hands on this revelation as a sacred deposit. Although all humans can potentially worship God properly, only Catholics with infused grace may activate that potential through the exercise of the infused virtues.

Therefore, the short answer for Aquinas would be that being religious is more important than being spiritual because true religion already incorporates all that is best in being spiritual anyway under its interior acts of devotion and prayer. Acquired religion focuses our innate spiritual desires into concrete action, which even in the natural world has in every society up until ours incorporated elements like ritual, tradition, sacrifice, and myth. Infused religion is best because it specifies exactly how latria is to be rendered to God because it is God Himself Who communicates to us how to serve Him properly.

Religious are called religious because they offer their entire lives under the vows of religion. Married people also offer a specific form of worship by raising children in Matrimony to the end of glorifying God.

All the baptized are called to practice the virtue of religion.

Three specific ways to grow in the virtue: 1) meditation, especially on God's goodness and our sinfulness (St. Thomas recommends these two general topics as the best for mental prayer); 2) receiving the Sacraments; 3) prayer (Adoration, Contrition, Supplication, Thanksgiving), which makes us go out of ourselves and humbles us before God.

When we receive the Eucharist, we are receiving the very purpose of our life, which is worship of God. St. Thomas notes that we are to be messengers of revelation, of the unveiling of God's glory in the universe, and thus every time we make an act of religion, we change the entire fabric of creation by making present God's glory in a way that was not previously present. Hence, our bodily reverences, such as genuflections and making the Sign of the Cross, should be reverent and visible because they are not only internal acts of humility before God but are also outwardly humbling, insofar as they reveal to those who happen to see us for Whom we stand (or genuflect, if you want to be literal).

Finally, how to tell if you're growing in this virtue: the presence (or absence if you're not growing in it) of spiritual joy. Spiritual joy is not sensible joy although it may be accompanied by sensible joy. Spiritual joy refers to the presence of something good that we desire, and in this case, it is the spiritual good of God. Spiritual joy is the mental vigor that empowers and follows the soul's proper activity, such as in a realization, a recognition, an insight, or the doing or completion of a properly human act. We recognize this vigor when we are engaged in, focused on some task or topic; it can be an intense surge or a continuous stream of concentration, like a spiritual electricity running through us. The greater we desire God, and the further we realize that God is present to us by grace, the greater shall be our joy in serving Him. The ease, the promptitude, the joy with which we serve God will indicate to us how rooted the virtue is.

Making a Big Deal Out of Everything

There's a certain sense in which for the Christian everything is a BIG deal. Yet on the other hand, there's another sense in which everything is, in the big scheme of things, pretty inconsequential. Christianity super-focuses our inherent sense of wonder and curiosity; it sensitizes us to the smallest "flickerings." But it also gives us a broad perspective of things, a deep tranquility in the trust that all things are guided by Providence, that "the sufferings of this time are not worthy to be compared with the glory to come, that shall be revealed in us" (Romans 8:18).

My suffering at the hands of another was a big enough deal for God to die for me, to suffer with me. At the same time, my suffering is something quite small, "not worthy to be compared" to what awaits me. It is something to be faced honestly, but in facing it honestly, we find that it's not really a big deal. Pride wants to puff it up, which is what pride does. Pride wants the slight to turn into a vendetta, ending in streets flowing with blood. Acknowledging the pain in honesty allows us to actually deal with the pain and to realize its smallness and be content with that.

My tendency to make things a big deal flows from my pride, my unwillingness to accept that I am a creature, dust. I want to be more than that, and in trying to be more, I cause chaos. It is only when I give up trying to be more and accepting what I am that God shines through in His full splendor. The humble creature is actually more.

Tattoos, Labels, and Social Identities

Leviticus 19:28: "You shall not make any cuttings in your flesh on account of the dead or tattoo any marks upon you: I am the LORD."

Why are tattoos wrong? Because they originate from, form, and encourage a self-imposed social identity, placed by the hand of man on the the body, which belongs not to ourselves but to the Holy Ghost. 

On the other hand, the Lord put a mark on Cain (Genesis 4:15); He had those who lamented over the sins of Israel marked with the Thau to protect them from destruction (Ezekiel 9:4); and He marks the redeemed with a seal on their foreheads (Revelation 7:3-8). In Baptism, Confirmation, and Holy Orders, the soul is signed with an indelible mark, placed there by God, establishing an unbreakable relation to God that did not exist beforehand, the relation of being a son of God. These are sealed in the Holy Ghost (Ephesians 1:13; 4:30). It is by the hand of God that this mark is placed, not on the body, but on the soul. God alone gives us our true identity, individual and social, and death, so showed the French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan, reveals the fraud of all human-created social identities.

The image in human constructs goes out to the Other so as to attract the gaze of the Other back to the image. It is fundamentally egoistic. It matters not what the image is; that is besides the point. The psychological function of the image transcends the image and the intention of the Subject, which in Lacan's terminology is mostly unconscious of itself and of its actions (I capitalize "Subject" simply as a reminder of its specialized usage here). This psychological function of the image, we can say, establishes a relation between the Subject and the Other, a relation existing suprasubjectively. 

So too does the relation between God and the soul marked by the hand of God. In the former case, we establish the relation; in the latter, God is the initiator and terminus of the relation, the Alpha and the Omega. In the former case, there is a kind of unconscious attempt at salvation by human hands ("the work of human hands"), an attempt to "prove" that I am God's—"see? I even put this image on me to show you—to show them—to show God—to show myself." And what does it really prove? Once the body rots and has been resurrected, will the tattoo be there? What has been accomplished? In the end, it's like the Tower of Babel, doomed to failure, for there is an infinite chasm between us and God.

Then we like to find justifications, even the smallest, for our actions; it is always a matter of whether this action is "OK" in the eyes of God. We like to think that if it's a "small" tattoo, then that's all right—as though God would become more upset by consideration of size! This is being a Pharisee. No, we offend God through sin, which is an act of the spiritual will working through our physical bodies; size is irrelevant—it's the fact that we willed to do something that was wrong.

But the Church's vast tradition of spiritual and mystical teaching shows us that we clearly hear God's voice in our lives only on the condition and to the extent that we are detached from our own wills and committed to doing the will of God. So if you want to know whether getting a tattoo would be "favorable" in God's sight, ask yourself, after detaching yourself from all creaturely loves according to the teachings of the Saints, whether you discerned God was telling you to get a tattoo or whether you just want to have one.

But God gives us some "labels" by which He desires us to be identified: sons and daughters of God, the people of God, the mystical Body, the Church, Christians, saints, co-heirs, and all the other Biblical images. 

But everything that is said about a tattoo, even a so-called "devotional tattoo," applies just as well to self-imposed lingual identities—with the significant difference being lingual identities do not leave a mark on the body.

Here we find the crucial difference between being called (something) and calling myself (something). Our vocation is precisely where God calls us and, then, concretely calls us what our state in life is: cleric, religious, lay, consecrated, but foundational to all of these, holy. (As an aside, notice how religious habits are given and worn as a sign. Our uniform, although in itself meaningless, ought to be a truthful representation of what we are and hence what we do, but our uniform is determined by our state in life and, due to fashion, open to a certain amount of variety at least for layfolk.) We do not "call ourselves"; we accept our calling and hence what we are called. Our action is cooperative, not initiative. Anything else in the order of salvation is futile and arrogant. To prove this, simply imagine trying to defend on your judgment day in front of Christ that your label somehow aided in your sanctification and in being a disciple of Christ. See where it gets you...

Whatever label I may use to describe my faith is ultimately meaningless and in a radical way inspired by the pride of the Fall—the grasping of a forbidden fruit, an identity that I take on for myself rather than what is given to me by grace, i.e. by gift from God. It may be convenient during a conversation, for a survey, or for debate, but it is meaningless for my salvation. After all, Christ said, "Not every one that saith to me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven: but he that doth the will of my Father who is in heaven, he shall enter into the kingdom of heaven" (Matthew 7:21). Those who cooperate with grace enter the Kingdom. Anyone who cooperates with grace will fulfill the commandments, will serve Christ in "one of these my least brethren" (Matthew 25:40), will be like those "that heareth these my words, and doth them, [and] shall be likened to a wise man" (Matthew 7:24).

How To Look At The World

How should we look at the world as Christians? A problem immediately presents itself: what is the “world”? St. John taught, “Do not love the world or the things in the world. If any one loves the world, love for the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the pride of life, is not of the Father but is of the world” (1 Jn 2:15-16). St. James wrote, “Unfaithful creatures! Do you not know that friendship with the world is enmity with God? Therefore whoever wishes to be a friend of the world makes himself an enemy of God” (Jas 4:4). Finally, our Lord Himself declared, “No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and mammon” (Mt 6:24). Seems straightforward enough so far. But then we read this, from St. John’s Gospel: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God sent the Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him” (Jn 3:16-17). And there are these words that the Church has long applied to Christ and His love for the world: “I was daily [the Father’s] delight ... rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the sons of men” (Prv 8:30-31). 

St. Thomas Aquinas in his commentary on the Gospel of St. John gives us light: 

We should know that “world” is taken in three ways in Scripture. Sometimes, from the point of view of its creation, as when the Evangelist says here, “through him the world was made” (v 10). Sometimes, from the point of view of its perfection, which it reaches through Christ, as in “God was, in Christ, reconciling the world to himself” (2 Cor 5:19). And sometimes it is taken from the point of view of its perversity, as in “The whole world lies under the power of the evil one” (1 Jn 5:19). (Commentary on the Gospel of John, 1.5.128, trans. Weisheipl)

Sts. John and James warn us against loving the world “from the point of view of its perversity,” being titillated and seduced by its illusory qualities and false joys. The world’s fulfillment, “new heaven and a new earth” (Rev 21:1), is viewing the world in terms of its final perfection in Christ as St. Paul described: 

Creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning with labor pains together until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. (Rom 8:21-23)

The world as creation was prepared by the Father for His Son and His Son’s Bride, the Church, as the quotation from Proverbs above indicates. St. John of the Cross, the Spanish mystic, very beautifully described the world as “a palace for the bride” (“Romances,” stanza 4, trans. K. Kavanaugh and O. Rodriguez) divided into two rooms, one above (heaven) and one below (earth). Earth was “furnished / with infinite variety,” and those who occupied earth would live in the hope that “one day / [God] would exalt them, / and that he would lift them / up from their lowness / so that no one / could mock it any more.” Outside of Scripture, this poem contains perhaps one of the loveliest descriptions of the mystical transformation of creation into Christ’s kingdom at the end of time. Nevertheless, St. John warns us sternly of the tempting allure of created beauty. It truly is beautiful, and that’s why it can be dangerous. 

We know from the creation accounts in Genesis that God created the world good, very good in fact. Yet there also exists the kingdom of this world, ruled by Satan as Christ told us (cf. Luke 4:5-7; John 12:31). Fr. Jordan Aumann, a great Thomistic theologian, notes, “Without denying that created things can be occasions of sin for those who use them evilly, the challenge to Christians today is to ‘have the Gospel spirit permeate and improve the temporal order’ (Apostolicam Actuositatem 2)” (On the Front Lines 167). It remains for me to discuss briefly how creation can be used for sin, as “weapons for wickedness” (Rom 6:13).

When he created man, God gave us the power to name things, and “whatever the man called each living creature was then its name” (Gen 2:19). This passage describes the closed system of language to which humans are bound, a box that can be used for manipulation or for honest self-communication. Regarding manipulation, Jacques Lacan, the French psychoanalyst, said, “There is no Other of the Other” (Écrits: A Selection, trans. Sheridan, 311), meaning that the social demands placed on us by others (the Other) and the values attributed to human constructs end with its own enunciation. That is, if we play out what society tells us is valuable by constantly asking it “why is that valuable? And why is that valuable?”—ultimately, the only thing society can respond with is: “Because I say it is.” Of course, this “I” of society is the “we” of the crowd that accepts its own word as gospel, that drops its own collective preferences as law, that secures its personal tastes by means of secular and civil fatwas. Why must you like these shoes, these TV shows, these songs, and hate (or at least find annoying) those brands, those artists, those actors? “Because we say so.” Why must you look this way, eat that way, spend your time this way, speak that way? “Because we say so,” and you want to fit in, don’t you?

The point of Genesis and Lacan’s insight is that human creation does not have absolute value but is like a game, a process of interaction constructed and maintained by unspoken rules; when the rules of social dynamics are broken, the game ends because any guarantee of contextual significance ends, a potential source of both humor and frustrating miscommunication. An example of this potential source of humorous but frustrating communication would be from a fictional skit where George W. Bush and Tony Blair are discussing their plans for invading Iraq, and Blair mentions as an aside that something President Bush said reminded him of the British rock band The Who. Bush questions, “Who?” To which Blair replies, “The Who.” Bush then asks again, “Yeah, who?” To which Blair answers, “It’s a band.” Bush: “Who is?” Blair: “The Who.” The pun (and any pun) played on the ambiguity of the word “who,” and the skit then toyed with the “rules” of communication in order to create humor. This toying with the rules of communication forms the core of wit.

But ultimately, self-created meaning is illusory. By illusory, I mean something that unconsciously disguises another, more important truth, whatever the truth is in a particular situation. Thus, for example, a “supermarket” is illusory insofar as it presents the image of immediately-purchasable abundance within a well-maintained façade. The customer, by looking at the store itself, will have no way of knowing the truth of global poverty and the extremely unfair distribution of goods in the world, perhaps even among the farmers who produced the food in the market. Yet a supermarket is necessary to survive. Or growing up in a upper-middle-class suburb all one’s life may give the impression that the rest of the world is relatively quiet, safe, and uniform, which it isn’t, but still suburbs are an apparent necessity for modern urban living. Thus, by saying that something is illusory in this psychological sense, I am not a priori ascribing a moral judgment to that thing (by condeming it as bad or praising it as good) but am simply pointing out its psychological function, a necessity due to human rationality and language. Any use of human constructs not in line with the values of creation (i.e. natural law) or redemption (revealed morality) is morally wrong. Thus, for example, social etiquette can either foster comfortable relations (the virtue of affability) or pridefully display one’s social superiority.

Modern cultural life rests on the projection of an illusory image—and with and through that image, a self-constructed identity. The postmodern philosopher Jean Baudrillard noted, “This is a society that is endlessly concerned to vindicate itself, perpetually seeking to justify its own existence. Everything has to be made public [….] The society’s ‘look’ is a self-publicizing one” (America 93). Interestingly, modernity’s self-projection fits well with St. John’s description of what’s in the world: lust of the eyes, of the flesh, pride of life.

So how is a Christian to react to the world, to look at it? St. John of Avila, following the Gospel teaching, said quite simply, 

The Christian should see that, since the world dishonored the blessed Son of God [by crucifying Him...,] it makes no sense to esteem or believe it in anything. Since the world was deceived in not recognizing such a brilliant light and in not honoring the one who is the truest and most perfect honor, Christians should condemn what the world approves and prize and love what the world hates and despises. With great care they should flee from being prized by that world which despised their Lord. [...] Just as those who belong to the world do not have ears to listen to the truth and the teaching of God, but rather they despise it, so anyone who belongs to the company of Christ has no ears to listen to or believe the lies of the world. For at one time it flatters and at another time persecutes; at one time it promises and at another time threatens; at one time it terrifies and at another appears gentle. But in everything it deceives and intends to deceive. With such eyes we must look upon it.” (Audi, Filia, trans. Gormley, 1.3, 46)

How hard is this saying for modern day Christians! Just look at women, for example, who regardless of their religious beliefs, universally struggle with the problem of self-image, deeply ingrained by the beauty industry. The world tells women that they must look this way and not that way, and everything around us confirms the message, so we believe it to be true: we must look this way. A Christian woman must not only see through the whole lie of society but then consciously reject it, a task that seems absolutely unfathomable to most modern women. 

The world says that abortion is part of proper medical care for independent women who are assumed and even expected to be sexually active outside of marriage. But even from the 1^st century, Christians have explicitly condemned abortion as evil: “Do not murder a child by abortion or kill a newborn infant” (Didache). Regardless, what does it matter when the Christian identity itself has vanished? 

The inner sense of hostility towards the fallen world that existed in early Christians­—necessarily so because they were being either threatened to give up their faith or, if they refused, murdered by the Roman Empire—has disappeared since the world “became Christian.” Only in hindsight can we see that the world became Christian in name. We cannot change the course of “Christian” society by stepping in front of it now because it was a battle lost nearly 1700 years ago with the final nail on the head hammered by the year 744, when under the direction of the man who was to become Pope Leo III (r. 795-816), a forged document called the “Donation of Constantine” secured the Church’s political power over the Holy Roman Empire and planted the seed of the Church’s applied political theory for the next milennium, characterized from the beginning by fraud and manipulation (cf. John Deely, Medieval Philosophy Redefined, 38-41). Perhaps we see now the fruit of this seed, all guided providentially: the real division between the holy and the not-yet-holy, between those who accept Christ as their Lord and those who, although they still belong to Him, resist His rule as the theologian Coleman O’Neill put it in his 1968 essay “The Pilgrim Church.”

What can we do? We ourselves must be converted. We cannot tell others (the Other) what to do­­—that’s the Other’s function. We must follow the model of Christ, who “began to do and teach” (Acts 1:1), Who first did and then preached, teaching as a good father does his children: “Watch me and imitate.” We must start living a genuine Christian life and only then can we witness our faith to others. What is being witnessed but one’s life, and if that life is not Christ’s, then what can be witnessed other than one’s projected illusions?

Imagine today if all Christians followed the teachings even contained in the Didache, if all Christians were public models of: chastity; respect for the permanence and faithfulness due to marriage (i.e. not divorcing and remarrying like everyone else); respect for life; respect for their bodies through modesty, careful treatment, and good personal grooming; prayer; sober living—not partying, not smoking, using illegal drugs, or becoming intoxicated; true independence by their resistance and rejection of cultural lies, not concerning themselves with competition, glamor, lust, greed, entertainment. What if all Christians refused to buy into the lies of the beauty industry, the entertainment industry, the sports industry? What if all Christians refused to pay for or support in any way TV channels, stations, or programs that depicted anti-Christian behavior? What if all Christians refused to waste their lives playing video games to the destruction of their interior lives for the sole purpose of avoiding a boredom that they don’t really know how to alleviate anyway? What if all Christians refused to waste time chatting, texting, posting all the intimate and useless details of their lives through social networking? What if Christian money actually had any real power, even political power, rather than wallowing in the filth that everyone else indulges? In fact, abortion will not end so long as there is a single baptized woman anywhere in the world who aborts her own children.

No, it’s quite useless to expect anything else from the world. And it’s equally as useless to make demands of a world that simply doesn’t care how you feel or how you’re being mistreated and victimized. Yes, it preys on your pain, your anger. It whispers into your ear, urging you to become upset, to drive yourself insane at the injustice of it all, to protest, to rebel against authority, to “take control,” to be “independent,” “free-thinking,” “self-determined.” You will never get anywhere with that.

The Saints—the real Christians—were the ones who by the grace of God decided to stop playing the game of manipulations and lies, and that’s how they looked at the fallen world: a game of lies.

A Christian's Good Name

It is one thing to love honor and human esteem for themselves and to rest in them, which is evil, and it is another thing to love these things for some good end, which is not evil. [...] Not only persons in authority, but Christians in general, should practice what is written: "Take care of a good name" (Sir 41:12). This does not mean to rest in it, but that a Christian has to be such that, whoever hears or sees his life, may glorify God, as we usually do at the sight of a rose or a tree with fruit and shade. This is what the holy gospel commands: that our light might so shine before men that, seeing our good works, they may give glory to the heavenly Father (Mt 5:16) from whom all good proceeds. [...]

It requires a lot of virtue to possess something as if one did not have it. So too, it is extremely difficult to keep the honor others give us from cleaving to our hearts. Very few succeed in doing this.

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Source: St. John of Avila, Audi, Filia, trans. by Joan Frances Gormley (New York, NY: Paulist Press, 2006), 1.4, 46-47.

St. John of Avila on the Language of the World

[NB: St. John of Avila, diocesan priest from 16th c. Spain and doctor of the Church, is esteemed for his writings on the spiritual life. By his help and approbation, the Inquisition cleared and approved St. Teresa of Avila's work, especially her autobiography. To his preaching is attributed the conversion of both St. Francis Borgia and St. John of God. He was friends of St. Ignatius of Loyola and many of the first Jesuits. His works on reformation of the clergy and call for more systematic and rigorous formation for seminarians and priests influenced the decrees at the Council of Trent.]

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Since the beginning of the spiritual life is faith, which, as St. Paul says, enters the soul "through hearing," [...] it is of little advantage that the voice of divine truth should sound from outside if within there are not ears desirous of hearing it. [...]

It is to be noted that when they were created, Adam and Eve spoke only one language. That language lasted in the world until human pride, desirous of building the tower of confusion, was punished. Then, instead of one language by which all could understand one another, there came about a host of languages through which people could not understand one another (cf. Gen 11:9). We learn from this that, until they rose up against their Creator and broke his commandment with impudent pride, our first parents spoke only one spiritual language in their souls. Because of this, they had perfect concord with one another, within themselves, and with God. They lived in the quiet state of innocence, with their passions obeying reason and reason obeying God. They were at peace with God, within themselves, and with each other. But when, through foolhardy disobedience, they rose up against the Lord of the heavens, they were punished, and we in them. Instead of one excellent language by which they could understand each other exceedingly well, there sprung up innumerable very evil languages, full of such confusion and darkness that people could not agree with one another. Nor could one man be in harmony within himself, and even less with God.

These languages have no order among them, for they are disorder itself. However, in order to speak of them, we may reduce them to the order and number of three: the languages of the world, of the flesh, and of the devil. [...]

We must not listen to the language of the world because it is all lies, exceedingly harmful for those who believe in them. They cause us to turn away from the truth that really is, to follow the lie that exists only in appearance and by convention. So deceived, a person casts God and his holy will behind his back and orders his life by the blind guide of what pleases the world. Thus is engendered a heart desirous of honor and of being esteemed by others. [...] Such people prize their honor so much that they can in no way bear even the slightest word against it, or anything that tastes or smells like contempt, even if it comes from far away. On the contrary, there are such subtleties and trifles in all this that it is a wonder that anyone escapes stumbling on something and offending the sensitive man of the world, often without meaning to do so. But these people, so quick to feel contempt, are hard and slow when it comes to overlooking and pardoning it. Even if they wanted to, what a troop of false friends and relatives will rise up, citing the laws and customs of the world! Thus, the conclusion is drawn that it is better to lose fortune, health, house, wife, and children, and even all this seems little to such people. They say that it is better to lose the life of body and soul and all that is of earth and heaven, and that even God himself and his law must be counted as little and placed underfoot, so that this utterly vain honor might not be lost but be esteemed above all things, even over God himself. [...]

So as not to be despised by human beings, they despise God and are ashamed to follow his laws lest they be ashamed before men.

But let them do as they wish. Let them honor their honor until they can do no more. Yet firm and fixed is the sentence pronounced against them by Jesus Christ, the sovereign judge, who says: "Whoever shall be ashamed of me and of my words, of him the Son of the Virgin shall be ashamed, when he shall come in his majesty, and that of his Father, and of the holy angels" (Lk 9:26). [...] If this lowly worm is ashamed to follow you, O Lord, the King of Majesty, you who are honor and greatness itself, you should be ashamed that one so vile and so evil should remain in your company and that of those who belong to you. [...] Since this evil affection is powerful enough to make people give up believing in Jesus Christ, what evil can it not do? Who will not make the sign of the cross against it? Because of this, Saint Augustine said that no one knows his strength for overcoming the love of vainglory, except the one who has waged war against it (Sermon 4.2). [...]

The Christian should see that, since the world dishonored the blessed Son of God, eternal truth and highest good, it makes no sense to esteem or believe it in anything. Since the world was deceived in not recognizing such a brilliant light and in not honoring the one who is the truest and most perfect honor, Christians should condemn what the world approves and prize and love what the world hates and despises. With great care they should flee from being prized by that world which despised their Lord. For them, it is a great sign of Christ's love to be despised by the world with and for him.

Just as those who belong to the world do not have ears to listen to the truth and the teaching of God, but rather they despise it, so anyone who belongs to the company of Christ has no ears to listen to or believe the lies of the world. For at one time it flatters and at another time persecutes; at one time it promises and at another time threatens; at one time it terrifies and at another appears gentle. But in everything it deceives and intends to deceive. With such eyes we must look upon it. For it is certain that we have caught the world in such great lies and false promises that, if anyone should have told us even half as many, we would not trust that person again in anything. Even if such a one were to speak the truth, we would find it hard to believe. What the world can do is neither good nor bad, for it cannot give or take away the grace of God. Even where it seems to have power, it can do nothing since, without the will of the Lord, it cannot even reach to a hair of our head (cf. Lk 21:18). If the world wants to tell us otherwise about itself, let us not believe it. Who then will not dare to struggle against an enemy that can do nothing at all?

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Source: St. John of Avila, Audi, Filia, trans. by Joan Frances Gormley (New York, NY: Paulist Press, 2006), 1.1-3, 41-46.

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Cf. also: http://chastitysf.com/q_honor.htm

Fr. Victorino Osende on the Active and Contemplative Life

It is generally believed that the active life is inferior to the contemplative and that they are mutually incompatible. The first part of this statement is true if by active life we mean ascetical life, but it is not true if by that term we mean apostolic life. So St. Thomas states that the work of the active life which proceeds from the fullness of contemplation, such as teaching and preaching, is more excellent than simple contemplation (Cf. Summa th., IIa IIæ, q. 188, a. 6).

According [as active and contemplative refer to active and passive in the ascetical and mystical lives], the active life is undoubtedly inferior to the contemplative, even as the ascetical state is inferior to the mystical. However [as active and contemplative are considered as exercises proper to each life], it is necessary to make a distinction: the external works referred to are either a means for attaining perfection or they are the exercise of perfection already attained. If the works are a means to perfection, then those [works] of the contemplative life, generally speaking, are considered superior to those of the active life. If the works are those of perfection already attained, then those of the active life, at least the works of the apostolate, are preferred to those of the purely contemplative life.

This also clarifies the question of the apparent incompatibility of the two kinds of life. For if they are considered from their external aspects, inasmuch as the contemplative life is dedicated almost exclusively to meditation and prayer in retirement and solitude and the active life to preaching, teaching, and so forth, then undoubtedly they are incompatible. But such is not the case if one considers their intimate nature, for then the contemplative life is the best disposition for the fruitful exercise of the apostolic life. [...]

The perfect contemplative life is fundamentally the same as the passive state of the soul or the mystical life; therefore it is equivalent to the life of permanent union, the supernatural life, the plentitude of the interior life, habitual contemplation, the mystical, unitive, or contemplative state, and other similar expressions [....] It is the interior life developed to perfection. [...]

Mystical union is a mysterious and ineffable contemplation which does not bind the understanding or the other faculties of the soul and make it impossible for them to act, but on the contrary, it makes them all the more ready and alert. There is no ecstasy of the senses, but an ecstasy of the heart and spirit, an ecstasy of faith and love.

Thus do we see how the contemplative life is the best disposition for the active life. For a soul that enjoys this most intimate communication with God, encounters no obstacles whatsoever from the natural order; on the contrary, it operates even more perfectly and it possesses, so to speak, the plenitude of divine and human efficacy at one and the same time. This is why great apostles have always been great saints and all truly contemplative souls eventually become apostles. [...]

That is why the saints, particularly St. John of the Cross, advise the cultivation of the interior life in preference to exterior works; not that they condemn the latter, but because it is an error to give preference to their material efficacy rather than to the efficacy of the spirit, which is the soul of the apostolate.

This does not mean that one may not undertake any work of the apostolate unless he possesses the plenitude of the interior life [....] The division between the two states is not so definite and absolute that each one does not share some of the qualities of the other. But as a general rule, the efficacy of one's apostolate is in direct proportion to the degree of perfection of his interior life, and as long as his interior life has not attained the plenitude of perfection, neither will his apostolate.

It also follows that the principal exercises of the contemplative life, such as prayer, study, meditation, and other pious practices, are not opposed to the exercise of the apostolate, but are its basis, its support, and its very life. Therefore, the apostle should always give preference to the practices of the interior life as a means of increasing the efficacy of his apostolate. [...]

[When works are always performed with a most pure intention, with a magnanimous spirit, and with an ardent desire to fulfill the will of God, then] the apostolic life will not only not be opposed to the contemplative life, but it will be the best means of developing it and of giving it its greatest expansion. [...]

The principal beauty of the perfect life comes from within and from within also come its value and efficacy. Without this, all else would be like a body without a soul; it would be what St. Paul says the most heroic actions are when done without charity (Cf. 1 Cor. 13:1-3). On the other hand, the most humble and ordinary actions of a man who is filled with God have an influence and efficacy that are truly divine. His deportment and manner of life diffuse a supernatural aroma which profoundly affects souls and permeates them with the perfume of religious unction. His mere presence is sufficient to raise hearts to God.

This is why only that active life which proceeds from the contemplative life truly merits the name of an apostolic life, for only then does the latter possess all its efficacy. We also say that the contemplative life is the best disposition for the exercise of of the apostolate, not only because of the abundance of lights, gifts, and graces which are proper to that life and are so necessary for the salvation and sanctification of souls, but by reason of the dispositions which that life arouses in those who possess it and which are the most adequate for the apostolate.

The life of an apostle requires consummate selflessness and detachment from everything, a holy freedom of spirit, an unshakable faith and constancy, and a limitless charity. The apostle should be totally dead to self and seek only the glory of God, but only in the way that God desires. There is, therefore, no self-interest in his works and enterprises, nor does he manifest any personal preference for one work rather than another, but only for those which he knows God has especially confided to him. It matters not to him whether he is here or there or whether he is occupied in this or that ministry, as long as it is the one that God has marked out for him through obedience or by means of the circumstances in which He has placed him. Everything is a matter of holy indifference to him. The only thing to which he aspires is to accomplish well the mission which the Lord has confided to him and to do all the good possible within his sphere of action.

However, in order to preserve this disposition and spirit, he needs an unshakable faith and constancy. Better still, we should say that he needs a divine strength that will sustain him in the bitter trials and battles to which his faith and constancy are exposed. In order to know what these dangers are it is sufficient to recall that all the powers of the world and of hell strive against the work of the apostle, and as if that were not enough, his own human frailty wages war against him. What would happen if he were not sustained by divine power?

It is therefore necessary for him to be in intimate union with God in order to defy and triumph over all the powers of evil. [...]

In spite of [all his frailty and misery, the apostle] must endure the most cruel trials, the most frightful battles, and the most painful sacrifices. [... The apostle] must retain nothing of self: neither ambition, nor interests, nor preferences, nor his own personality, soul, or life. He who is to become all things to all men in order to save all (Cf. 1 Cor. 9:22) must sacrifice everything for the sake of the divine ideal. But who can arrive at such utter selflessness and detachment? Only he who is totally possessed by the Spirit of God; he who can say with St. Paul: "I live, now not I; but Christ liveth in me" (Gal. 2:20).

We see, therefore, that the contemplative life is the best disposition for the apostolic life and that the latter, in its turn, is the best means for the exercise and expansion of the contemplative life. They mutually complete one another, thereby bringing to its highest degree of perfection the accomplishment of the fundamental law of the Christian life: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole strength" (Deut. 6:5).

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Source: Fr. Victorino Osende, Fruits of Contemplation, trans. by a Dominican Sister (St. Louis, MO: B. Herder Book Co., 1963), 307-315.

Fr. Victorino Osende on the Conditions of Effective Apostolate

Tradere aliis contemplata, "To give to others the fruits of contemplation." [1]

According to this concept, the active life of the apostolate should be a spontaneous and natural fruit of the contemplative life or a prolongation of the same, whereby the contemplative life is completed and perfected. The contemplative life, in its turn, should be the fruit and normal term of the active life in its ascetical aspect. [...] [2]

The active life differs from the contemplative in that the first refers principally to man's exterior actions and the second to his interior actions. But exterior activity can be considered under two aspects: as directed to one's own salvation and sanctification or that of others. In the first case the active life blends with the ascetical life and precedes the contemplative; in the second, it follows the contemplative life as its proper and natural effect. [...]

Many believe that contemplation, especially in its most lofty degrees, is the final term and the most elevated goal of the supernatural life. That is not true, however, save in certain exceptional cases in which God disposes otherwise in accordance with His high and inscrutable designs. [...]

Normally, therefore, the contemplative life should end in the active life, expending itself in some form of the apostolate. [...] A soul in this state will always feel the impulse to do everything possible to further the glory of God and the salvation of his neighbor. [...]

It is reasonable that this should be so, for good is diffusive by its very nature and it is in the contemplative life that one attains, through union with God, the most perfect possession possible of the highest good. Wherefore, he who truly has attained to the contemplative life cannot help but feel this divine impulse to communicate it to others. [...] We find it in all the saints, especially in the great apostles and ministers of the gospel [....]

[St. Teresa of Avila writes,] "[Saints'] conception of glory is of being able in some way to help the Crucified, especially when they see how often people offend Him and how few there are who really care about His honor and are detached from everything else" (Interior Castle, seventh mansions, chap. 3). [...]

We see also the gross error of those who say that the contemplative and active lives are incompatible or that the contemplative life fosters slothfulness and that it is totally disinterested in the good of others. [E.g. Nietzsche's "saint" in Thus Spoke Zarathustra] [...]

Thus we see clearly how the active life of the apostolate follows the contemplative life and is an effect and natural consequence of the same. We see also that the ascetical phase of the active life precedes the contemplative. [...]

The ministry of the apostolate requires such great sacrifice and detachment, abnegation and patience, constancy and fortitude, that only a love stronger than death can bear it and exercise it with the greatest possible perfection and efficacy. To launch upon the apostolate without due preparation and without the necessary spiritual provisions and, above all, with but a smattering of the interior life, is to tempt God and to risk becoming apostles of Satan rather than of Christ. For we cannot give what we do not have, and when we give, we have to give of what we have. If we possess the spirit of God, we shall communicate that spirit to others, but if we have the spirit of the world, we cannot but communicate a worldly spirit to others. That is why the saints did not want their disciples to go forth to preach and teach others what they themselves had not learned and practiced in the ascetical and contemplative life. They wanted them to be apostles of truth; not of abstract truth which is acquired through pure speculation [i.e. study and mental reflection], but of the truth actually lived and made incarnate within their hearts. They wanted them to communicate the divine word which is life and spirit, a flaming dart which penetrates into the deepest recesses of the heart.

So also we should strive to communicate to others our hearts transformed in the love of Christ; we ought to give them Christ Himself enclosed within our heart and hidden, so to speak, beneath the guise of our burning love of charity. Such is the idea of the apostolate according to the saints, the apostolate in its most elevated and perfect expression.

This does not mean that there are no inferior grades of apostleship. We already know that practice makes perfect. [...]

Ah, there is nothing greater or more sublime than the battles for the faith and for souls! Neither is there anything more terrible than the fury with which the powers of hell guard the prey which they are about to lose. But in spite of all that, success is certain for those who never turn away from the supreme commander, Jesus Christ. [...] He may be sure that he will bear much fruit as long as he remains united to Christ, but without Him he will accomplish nothing (John 15:5).

This means that the apostle, more than anyone else, has great need of prayer and the interior life. These are the life and soul of every apostolate and without them he will bear no fruit, however much he may work or however brilliant his enterprises and apparent successes may be. [...] He must ever keep his heart and attention fixed on God, doing everything for God's honor and glory and for the good of souls and never descend from the supernatural and divine plane on which he is placed by reason of his mission. He must forget self and selfish interests and be constantly vigilant lest there enter into his works or intentions the slightest personal interest or self-love. In a word, he ought to sacrifice all: comfort, health, life, and reputation for the sublime ideal to which he is consecrated. These are the fundamental dispositions required for a successful exercise of the apostolate.

Further, in order to bear fruit among souls, the apostle must be filled of the spirit of God, and this he will attain only through an intensive life of prayer. [...] He ought never lose sight of God and should remain united to Him either by means of ordinary prayer or, as St. Francis de Sales says, by means of the prayer of works: doing everything for the love of God and with the intention of serving and glorifying Him. [...] If these works were performed with the interior spirit which should animate them, that fact alone would suffice to make us saints. [...]

Although at first we may not have the virtue and sanctity required for a perfect apostolate, if we perform our works in this spirit, we shall reach that state gradually. [...] We shall produce increasingly greater fruit. For it is certain that we shall produce more fruit as our interior spirit is greater and our union with God more intimate.

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Notes:

1. Motto of the Dominican Order, taken from the Summa Theologica of St. Thomas Aquinas, IIa IIæ, q. 188, a. 6.

2. NB: Fr. Osende distinguishes between two kinds of active life: that which goes before the contemplative life (i.e. the active life in its ascetical aspect) and that which follows after the contemplative life and flows from it (i.e. apostolic life).

The active life that precedes and prepares for the contemplative life is the ordinary struggle for holiness, the acquisition of virtues, the purification of the soul of all evils, etc., in preparation for mystical union.

The active life that follows the contemplative life flows from that life of union as Fr. Osende will explain. The process, in summary is as follows:

Ordinary, ascetical life acquiring holiness (active life; leads to contemplative life) -> stable and profound union with God (contemplative life) -> apostolate (active life; effect of contemplative life)

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Source: Fr. Victorino Osende, Fruits of Contemplation, trans. by a Dominican Sister (St. Louis, MO: B. Herder Book Co., 1963), 297-306.

Fr. Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalene on the Apostolate, pt. 2

Apostolic prayer must be accompanied by sacrifice [....] Love should urge those who pray to "active sacrifice which does not allow them to rest calmly in prayer as long as pain and suffering have not all but reached the limits of endurance. Then, consumed by the ardor of charity and the vehemence of desire, they are no longer persons who pray but living prayers" (Pius XII, January 17, 1943). [...] The more prayer is nourished by sacrifice, the more efficacious it becomes; indeed, it attains its maximum efficacy when sacrifice is total.

Every contemplative soul should be "an altar worthy of the presence of His Majesty" (Ascent of Mt. Carmel, 1.5.7), an altar from which prayer rises, and on which the sacrifice is immolated. The apostolate of Jesus reached its climax and was consummated in the annihilation of death on the Cross. [...] Only when we have really sacrificed ourselves for souls, when we have willingly immolated ourselves with Jesus for their salvation, shall we be able to repeat with Him: "It is consummated." [...]

Many souls are lost because there is no one to pray and make sacrifices for them. [...]

There is no one who cannot contribute to the spiritual good of his neighbor by giving the example of a life which is integrally Christian: holding to the principles one has professed and faithfully fulfilling one's duties. [St. John Chrysostom says,] "There would be no pagans if Christians were real Christians, if they really kept the commandments. A good life sounds clearer and louder than a trumpet." A good life speaks for itself, it has an authority and exercises an attraction greatly superior to that of words. [...]

There is no difficulty in finding books and teachers who will present it in an attractive form, but there is much difficulty in finding persons whose lives give practical testimony to it. [...] The eternal Word became incarnate and through the concrete reality of His human life on earth, He manifested the infinite perfections of God and His tremendous love for us. Jesus, who possessed the divine perfections, could tell us: "Be you therefore perfect, as also your heavenly Father is perfect" (Mt. 5:48). [...]

St. Gregory explains [...]: "Let the action [of good works] be public," he says, "while the intention remains hidden; thus we shall give our neighbor the example of a good work and, at the same time, by our intention which is directed only toward God, we shall please Him alone in secret." [...]

Every soul who lives an interior life, trying to please God alone, should also endeavor to be an apostle by his good example. His life of sincere piety, solid virtue, and union with God, should shine before men, inspiring them to pray, to be recollected, to seek after the things of heaven. [...]

The more deeply interior a soul is, the more brightly will its light shine upon other souls and bring them to God.

One who is just setting out in the spiritual life is not capable of attending to his own sanctification and the sanctification of others simultaneously; he should first have time to concentrate all his powers on his own spiritual formation. Furthermore, since the effectiveness of the apostolate corresponds to the degree of love and union with God which the apostle has attained, it is evident that a beginner will not be capable of exercising a very fruitful apostolate. Hence, if he engages in the active apostolate prematurely, he will dissipate his energy uselessly, with consequent harm to his own interior life and to the fruitfulness of his apostolate.

Jesus Himself spent thirty years in prayer and retirement although, being God, He had no need to do so. It was as if He wanted to show us that before we plunge into the work of the exterior apostolate, we must have reached a certain spiritual maturity by the exercise of the interior life. He treated the Apostles in a similar way: the three years they spent with Jesus were years of true formation for them. [...] Thus true Catholic tradition demands that, before apostles go out into the field of battle, they must prepare themselves by the practice of an intense interior life, which will make them qualified, fruitful instruments for the good of souls. [...]

Enthusiasm and good will are not enough. A vigorous interior life, maturity of thought and judgment, and a spirit of sacrifice and union with God are also necessary; if these are wanting, no good will be accomplished, and the spiritual life of the apostles themselves will be endangered. [...]

St. Teresa of [Avila] says, "A single one who is perfect will do more than many who are not" (Way of Perfection, 3). [...] The entire history of the Church is a practical demonstration of this principle: "St. Paul was only one, yet how many he attracted! . . . If all Christians were like St. Paul, how many worlds would be converted!" (St. John Chrysostom). The holy Curé of Ars [and St. Padre Pio] had very few human resources, yet he converted an immense number of souls by the power of his own holiness, love, and union with God. [...]

It is the saints who are the most efficient apostles. Must we then be saints before devoting ourselves to the apostolate? Theoretically, this is the ideal, but in practice, it is impossible. [...] We must therefore conclude that when the period allotted exclusively to preparation is over, we must combine our own personal efforts toward sanctity with the exercise of the active apostolate. In other words, apostles must sanctify themselves in the apostolate and by means of it. [...] Every apostle should be convinced that precisely in his own field of labor—and nowhere else—will he find all the graces necessary to sanctify himself, to attain intimate union with God. When a person gives himself to the apostolate, not by his own choice, nor because of a natural attraction for activity, but solely in answer to a call from God, he can be certain that, since God has willed him to engage in the apostolate, and as He also wills him to become a saint, that the apostolate will provide him with the means to become one. God cannot condemn to mediocrity one who, in order to do His will, and out of love for Him, is burdened with apostolic labors and responsibilities. [...] In the measure that an apostle is docile and faithful to grace, God will purify him, refine him, and sanctify him, precisely by means of his apostolic labors. [...]

It would be a fatal error to allow oneself to become so absorbed in work that time could no longer be found for concentration on God in intimate heart-to-heart conversation with Him. Not even from the standpoint of greater generosity should an apostle renounce his hours of prayer. [...]

He must make every effort to maintain an equilibrium, avoiding both extremes [of too much activity or too much time spent in leisure and prayer], and unifying his life by means of love. [...]

[Pope Pius XII in Primo Feliciter proposed four conditions for effective apostolic work]: purity of intention, union with God, self-abnegation, love for souls. [...]

An apostle whose heart is torn between opposing intentions will look in vain for peace in his work; he will always be disturbed and dissatisfied.

There can be a lack of right intention in a way that easily escapes one's notice; it may be so subtle that to a distracted soul, it passes wholly unobserved. [...] An atmosphere of recollection and prayer is necessary. In his moments of quiet at the feet of Our Lord, the apostle will discover that often, in the course of his daily occupations, he loses sight of the supernatural end which should animate his activity, and that in its place secondary ends appear, becoming the immediate motive of many of his decisions and acts. This means that his intention has not remained directed solely toward God and souls, but has often deviated under the influence of self-love. [...] He should not be discouraged by it; instead, he should humbly recognize his own misery and thank God who has revealed it to him in order that he may correct it. [...] His love is not strong enough yet to triumph completely over human passions. Therefore, the apostle should not give up the struggle against the manifestations of self-love, no matter how trivial. He must not yield to them under the pretext that they are natural tendencies, but must correct, mortify, repress, and cut them off without pity, and must always rectify his intentions. A long, thorough purification is necessary to overcome completely the dualism between God and "self," between love for souls and love of self. The apostle must ask Our Lord for the grace of this total purification and dispose himself to receive it, profiting by every occasion for detachment, renunciation, sacrifice, and humiliation, which apostolic activity offers in abundance to all who seriously dedicate themselves to it. If the apostle does this, he will find in his work an excellent means of spiritual progress, and instead of becoming entangled in the dangers which abound in external activity when self-love is not mortified, he will be purified by the very exercise of his apostolate. [...]

Without forgetfulness of self, it would be impossible to have rectitude of intention. [...]

Every apostle must renounce many things [...] tastes, habits, personal demands of culture, education, sensibility must be generously put aside, that the apostle may adapt himself to the mentality and to the demands of others; quiet, rest, relaxation, must yield their place to the service of souls. The apostle should not go about seeking interesting conversations, consoling friendships, pleasant occupations, satisfying results. Occasionally it may happen that he will meet these things on his way, but even then, he may not stop to enjoy them selfishly, but must use them as means for the apostolate. [...] The apostle is sent to "give" and not to "receive" [....]

Not only in moments of enthusiasm, on bright days [...] but also in moments of darkness, on gray days, when all seems to crumble under the impact of difficulties, when his tired body claims a little rest, when the work is heavy and energy declines and, with the onrush of internal and external struggles, it becomes very difficult to remain at his post. Yes, even in hours of abandonment and trial, the apostle must continue to give himself with equal constancy and generosity. If he does not do so cheerfully, that is, with a true spirit of sacrifice, it will be impossible for his conduct not to betray his ill humor, discontent, aversion, or impatience; and all this is very prejudicial to his work and the influence he could exercise. But where can the strength be found for this complete and continual gift of self? In the Holy Eucharist. [...] [We] can nevertheless follow [Christ's] example by putting himself at [others'] disposal to the point of allowing himself to be "eaten" by them, that is to say, by allowing himself to be consumed in their service. [...]

Humility is the indispensable foundation of the whole spiritual life; hence it is the basic condition of every apostolate and constitutes the principal part of the program of abnegation and forgetfulness of self which the apostolate requires. [...]

Oh! If we were truly convinced that, although God may will to make us of us, He alone possesses the power to make our action fruitful, He alone can produce fruits of eternal life, He alone can give grace to souls, and we are nothing but instruments! In fact, the smaller we make ourselves by acknowledging our poverty, the more qualified we become to be used as a means for the salvation of others. What glory can a brush claim if a skillful artist uses it to perfect a work of art? Can the marble used by Michelangelo to sculpture his Moses boast of any merit? "You have not chosen Me," Jesus said to His Apostles, "but I have chosen you; and have appointed you, that you should go and should bring forth fruit" (Jn. 15:16).

"Without Me you can do nothing." How many ambitions and points of honor, how much vain self-complacency, how many desires for applause and for advancement in recognition of our personal worth are broken, like waves on the rocks, by these words! Jesus does not tell us that "without Him we can do little," but, nothing, absolutely nothing, and if in appearance the works flourish, admirers increase, churches and halls are filled, in reality not the least atom of grace can descend into hearts if God does not intervene.

Poor apostle, at times so satisfied, so inflated by success! Despite your abilities, your talent, your brilliant style, your attractive conversation, your titles, your successes—in relation to the apostolate, you are smaller and more powerless than an ant before a very high mountain. Recognize your nothingness, take refuge in God, keep yourself closely united to Him, for only from Him will you draw the fruitfulness of your works. [...]

If our apostolic activity produces few fruits, is it because, relying too much on ourselves, we do not constantly strive to keep close to God by means of humility and prayer?

"Abide in Me," Jesus repeats to us. "As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abide in the vine, so neither can you, unless you abide in Me" (Jn. 15:4). It does not suffice for the apostle to be united to Jesus through the state of grace; he must remain united to Him, plunged in profound humility which makes him realize that he can do nothing, absolutely nothing, without continual help.

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Source: Fr. Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalene, Divine Intimacy, trans. by Discalced Carmelite Nuns of Boston (Rockford, IL: TAN Books, 2005), 980-981, 983-985, 992-997, 999-1007, "326: Apostolic Immolation," "327: The Apostolate of Example," "330: The Formation of Apostles," "331: Sanctification in the Apostolate," "332: A Right Intention," "333: Self-Forgetfulness and Abnegation," "334: Humility in the Apostolate."

Fr. Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalene on the Apostolate, pt. 1

An apostle, working for God for the good of souls, must live an intimate spiritual union with Him, so as to enter as far as possible into His views and plans for the salvation of the world.

Only by penetrating to the depths of the mystery of God's love for mankind can the apostle cooperate in the actual diffusion of love and grace. He must keep in close contact with God by means of the theological virtues, and must try to grasp the profound inspirations of His love. [...]

An apostle should try to put his own heart into contact with the Heart of God, that it may be filled with God's love and share in His charity toward men. The apostle should, as it were, have the mind of God, the mind of Christ, that is, he should cultivate deep sentiments of love for the brethren, a pale reflection of the love of God for men. [...]

Unless our life is one of intimacy with God and His Son Jesus, we cannot be His collaborators, docile instruments in His hands; unless we have an intense interior life, we cannot have the mind of Christ and be associated with His love and His work for the salvation of souls.

By means of prayer and the struggle against sin, by self-renunciation, and the practice of the virtues, the interior life progressively rids the soul of all that is defective [....] The more a soul cultivates the interior life, the nearer it will come to God, and having become like Him by grace and love, will be able to live in intimacy with Him, enjoy His friendship, penetrate His mysteries and participate in them. Who, then, will be better able to understand the great mystery of the Redemption and contribute his share to it, than one who by means of a fervent interior life, lives in intimate friendship with God?

The first degree of friendship with God, which consists in the absence of serious [mortal] sin, does not suffice to fulfill the purposes of the apostolate. A deeper relationship is required, one which creates such uniformity of will, desire and affection that the apostle is enabled to act according to God's Heart; he is moved not by his own impulses, but by the impulse of grace, by God's will, and the inspirations of the Holy Spirit. [...]

Only if we are friends of God can we be apostles. [...]

The more a soul is united to God, the more it shares in the power of God Himself; and hence, its prayers, sacrifices, and works undertaken for the salvation of souls, are efficacious and attain their end. [...]

In a single moment [...] God infused charity into us without any cooperation on our part, but He does not preserve this gift, much less increase it, unless we remain united to Him by living an interior life. The purpose of the struggle against our passions, the practice of the virtues, recollection, prayer, the practice of the presence of God, and frequent reception of the Sacraments, is to foster union with God and the growth of charity. [...] The interior life is the soul of the apostolate. A deep interior life will generate intense love and intimate union with God, and, therefore, from it will spring a fruitful apostolate, a true sharing in Christ's work of saving souls; on the other hand, a mediocre interior life can produce only a feeble love and union with God; hence, the resultant apostolate cannot have an efficacious influence on souls. [...] If this interior flame be extinguished, then the apostolate will be emptied of its substance and reduced to mere external activity which may make a great noise, but will not bring forth any fruit. St. John of the Cross says, "It is the hammer vigorously and to accomplish little more than nothing, at times nothing at all; at times, indeed, it may even be to do harm" (Spiritual Canticle, 29.3). [...]

The interior life is the vital principle, the force, and the flame of the apostolate. [...] When a soul is fired with zeal for the apostolic life, its very desire to win other souls for God impels it to devote itself with greater generosity to prayer, mortification, and the practice of the virtues, with the intention of making itself more capable of a fruitful apostolate. [...] The apostolate in its turn is a very powerful mainspring urging the soul on to union with God, to perfection, to sanctity. [...]

The dogma of the Communion of Saints tells us precisely that the grace and holiness of one of Christ's members necessarily redounds to the advantage of all the other members. [...]

A cold spiritual life, indifferent to the good of souls, is necessarily dwarfed; it is nothing more than a mean, petty and selfish form of piety; it has lost its vital heat, the warmth of charity, and does not even deserve the name of life. On the contrary, where the fire of the apostolate burns brightly, one's interior life becomes more vigorous than ever and makes one capable of great generosity. [...] When we think that the salvation of other souls may depend on our generosity, our fidelity to grace, or our immolation, then we can refuse nothing to our Lord, and we find the strength to accept even what is most bitter and painful. [...]

God has made the granting of certain graces, necessary for our salvation and that of others, dependent upon our prayers. In other words, by the merits of Jesus, grace—God's infinite mercy—is ready to be poured out abundantly into men's souls, but it will not be poured out unless there is someone who raises supplicating hands to heaven, asking for it. If prayer does not ascend to the throne of the Most High, grace will not be granted. This explains the absolute necessity for apostolic prayer and its great efficacy. [...] There is no substitute for prayer, because prayer draws grace directly from its source, God. Our activity, our words and works can prepare the ground for grace, but if we do not pray, it will not come down to refresh souls. [...]

By their lives of continual prayer, adoration and unceasing praise to the Most High, these souls supply for the negligence and carelessness of many, and thus they re-establish in the world the balance between God's rights and man's duty, between action and contemplation. [...] In the Church they are "powerhouses" of supernatural energy, energy derived from and accumulated by prayer, and diffused by it to the utmost bounds of the earth. [...]

Unfortunately we often put more trust in our work, our diligence, our technique, than in our prayer; we have not enough faith in its efficacy, in the help which God will surely give those who invoke Him from their heart, and as a result, we consider wasted the time we give to prayer. This basic error springs from a lack of faith and humility; it is an error which explains the sterility of so many works. "Let those, then, who are great actives," admonishes St. John of the Cross," that think to girdle the world with their outward works and their preachings, take note here that they would bring far more profit to the Church, and be far more pleasing to God (apart form the good example they would give) if they spent even half of this time with God in prayer" (Spiritual Canticle, 29.3). [...]

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Source: Fr. Gabriel of St. Mary Magdalene, Divine Intimacy, trans. by Discalced Carmelite Nuns of Boston (Rockford, IL: TAN Books, 2005), 962-963, 965-967, 971-973, 977-979, "320: One with the Mind of Christ," "321: The Soul of the Apostolate," "323: The Apostolic Ideal," "325: Apostolic Prayer."