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.

St. Gregory Palamas on Mary as Universal Mediatrix

It is an eternal law in heaven that the lesser shall share by means of the greater in what lies beyond being. So as the Virgin Mother is incomparably greater than all, and as many as will share in God will do so through her, and as many as will know God will acknowledge her as the one who contained Him Who Cannot be contained, and as many as will extol God will hymn her too after Him. She is the reason for everything which preceded her, the protectress of everything which came after, and the cause of eternal blessings. She is the theme of the prophets, the starting-point of the Apostles, the support of the martyrs, the foundation of teachers. She is the glory of those on earth, the delight of those in heaven, the adornment of the whole Creation. She is the beginning, source and root of good things past telling, the summit and fulfillment of everything holy.

O holy Virgin, how can I put everything about you into words? How can I express my desire? How can I glorify you, the treasure of glory? Just remembering you brings hallowing. A mere glance in your direction enlightens the mind, raising it instantly to divine heights. In you the eyes of our understanding become clear. In you our spirit is radiant with the presence of the divine Spirit. For you did not become the keeper and store of graces so as to have them for yourself, but to fill the universe with grace. For the person in charge of inexhaustible treasures oversees their distribution. Why would you shut away your wealth as it never diminishes? Share it abundantly with us, O Lady, and if we cannot contain it, enlarge our capacity, and then lavish it upon us. For you alone did not receive by measure, as all things were given into your hand.

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Source: St. Gregory Palamas, Sermon on the Blessed Virgin (?).

Circumstance as sign and opportunity

We often view circumstances in a fatalistic way. Circumstances "happen." The famous bumper sticker comes to mind. Circumstances are interpreted as beyond our control, or otherwise they are placed in an evaluative framework of what is in our control and not.

Maybe it is not so. Maybe circumstances are very deliberate processes, deliberate but not deterministic. Maybe circumstances are the expressions of conscious processes, meeting, connecting, bouncing off of and bumping into each other.

If we take it as true that all things are governed by God's Providence, then a thread of intelligibility, of love, of wisdom, runs through all things. All things have a conscious direction even if asymmetrical. Perhaps intelligibility doesn't equate with symmetry and balance, but perhaps reality as intelligible is intelligible precisely as a mixture of symmetry and asymmetry, of order and chaos, of articulate and ineffable.

Maybe, then, circumstances even those circumstances that are not apparently caused by human consciousness are nevertheless not things we can try to control or fall under the control of but rather the sort of possible encounter that reality proposes to us here and now.

I am sick. In the common view of circumstance, my sickness is not under my control, but I do everything I can to alleviate it. I complain of its grasp on my life, my livelihood. Perhaps sickness is something else; perhaps it is a link in a chain of possibility, connection both to God, to myself, to others, to the underlying intelligibility of the universe, an opportunity for transcending myself here and now.

I am late. Therefore I try to speed to work. Maybe there is something else going on here; maybe the circumstance is a symptom, a sign.

If circumstances are signs instead of chance events, then I can dialogue with circumstance and draw it up into a greater conversation, the conversation of my life.

Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange on the Efficacy of Prayer

[428] Merit, being a right to a reward, is related to divine justice [1]; prayer, on the other hand, is addressed to divine mercy, which often hears and grants it and lifts up the soul without any merit on its part; thus it raises up souls that have fallen into the state of spiritual death. The most wretched man, from the depths of the abyss into which he has fallen, can utter this cry to mercy, which is prayer. The beggar who possesses nothing but his poverty can pray in the very name of his wretchedness, and, if he puts his whole heart into his petition, mercy inclines toward him [2]; the abyss of wretchedness calls to that of mercy. The soul is raised up, and God is glorified. We should recall the conversion of Magdalen; let us also [429] remember the prayer of Daniel for Israel: "Thou hast executed true judgments in all the things that Thou hast brought upon us... for we have sinned and committed iniquity.... Deliver us not up forever, we beseech Thee, for Thy name's sake" (Dan. 3:28f., 34). The psalms are filled with these petitions: "But I am needy and poor; O God, help me. Thou art my helper and my deliverer: O Lord, make no delay" (Ps. 69:6). "Help us, O God, our Savior; and for the glory of Thy name, O Lord, deliver us: and forgive us our sins for Thy name's sake" (Ps. 78:9). "Thou art my helper and my protector: and in Thy word I have greatly hoped.... Uphold me according to Thy word, and I shall live: and let me not be confounded in my expectation" (Ps. 118:114, 116).

Do we believe in the power of prayer? When temptation threatens to make us fall, when light does not shine in us, when the cross is hard to carry, do we have recourse to prayer, as Christ advised us to? Do we not doubt its efficacy, if not in principle at least in practice? Yet we know Christ's promise: "Ask, and it shall be given you" (Matt. 7:7). We know the common teaching of theologians: that true prayer, by which we ask for ourselves with humility, confidence, and perseverance the graces necessary for our salvation, is infallibly efficacious [3]. We know this doctrine, and yet it seems to us at times that we have truly prayed without being heard.

We believe in, or rather we see, the power of a machine, of an army, of money, and of knowledge; but we do not believe strongly enough in the efficacy of prayer. The power of that intellectual force which is knowledge, we see by its results; there is nothing very mysterious about it, for we know whence this power comes and approximately whither it goes. It is acquired by human means and produces effects that remain within human limits. If, on the [430] contrary, prayer is in question, we believe too weakly in it, because we do not know clearly whence it comes and we forget whither it is going. [...]

The sources of rivers are high up; the waters of the heavens and the fountain of the snows feed their streams. A river is first a torrent which descends from the mountains before irrigating the valley and casting itself into the sea. This is a figure of the loftiness of the source of the efficacy of prayer.

At times we seem to believe that prayer is a force which should have its first principle in ourselves, one by which we would try to bend the will of God by persuasion. Immediately our thought encounters the following difficulty, often formulated by unbelievers, in particular by the deists of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries: namley, no one can move, no one can bend the will of God. God is indeed Goodness which asks only to give itself, Mercy ever ready to come to the help of him who suffers. But God is also perfectly immutable Being. The divine will is from all eternity as immovable as it is merciful. No one can boast of having enlightened God, of having made Him change His will: "I am the Lord, and I change not" (Mal. 3:6). By the decrees of Providence, the order of things and of events is strongly and gently established from all eternity [4]. Must we conclude from this, with fatalism, that prayer can do nothing, that it is too late, that whether we pray or not, what is to happen will happen?

The words of Holy Scripture remain, and the interior life must ever penetrate them more deeply: "Ask, and it shall be given you: [431] seek, and you shall find: knock, and it shall be opened to you" (Matt. 7:7; Luke 11:9; Mark 11:24).

Prayer is not, in fact, a force having its first principle in us; it is not an effort of the human soul, trying to do violence to God in order to make Him change His providential dispositions. Such a manner of speaking, which is used occasionally, is a metaphorical, human way of expressing oneself. In reality, the will of God is absolutely immutable, but this superior immutability is precisely the source of the infallible efficacy of prayer.

Fundamentally it is very simple in spite of the mystery of grace involved in it. We have here a combination of the clear and the obscure that is most captivating and beautiful. First of all, we shall consider what is clear: true prayer is infallibly efficacious because God, who cannot contradict Himself, has decreed that it should be [5]. This is what the contemplation of the saints examines profoundly.

A God who would not have willed and foreseen from all eternity the prayers that we address to Him, is a conception as puerile as that of a God who would change His plans, bowing before our will.

Not only all that happens has been foreseen and willed (or at least permitted) in advance by a providential decree, but the way things happen, the causes which produce events; all is fixed from all eternity by Providence. For material harvests, God prepared the seed, the rain that must help it to germinate, the sun that will ripen the fruits of the earth. Likewise for spiritual harvests, He has prepared spiritual seeds, the divine graces necessary for sanctification and salvation. In all orders, from the lowest to the highest, in view of certain effects God prepares the causes that must produce them.

Prayer is precisely a cause ordained to produce this effect: the obtaining of the gifts of God. All creatures exist only by the gifts of God, but the intellectual creature alone can realize this. Existence, health, physical strength, the light of the intellect, moral [432] energy, success in our enterprises, all is the gift of God; but especially is this true of grace which leads to salutary good, causes it to be accomplished, and gives strength to persevere. Grace and, even more, the Holy Ghost who has been sent to us and who is the source of living water, is the gift par excellence which Christ spoke of to the Samaritan woman: "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.... Whosever drinketh of this water shall thirst again; but he that shall drink of the water that I will give him shall not thirst forever. But the water that I will give him shall become in him a fountain of water, springing up into life everlasting" (John 4:10, 13 f.).

The intellectual creature alone is able to realize that it can live naturally and supernaturally only by the gift of God. Must we, then, be astonished that divine Providence has willed that man should ask for alms, since he can understand that he lives only on alms?

Here, as elsewhere, God wills first of all the final effect; then He ordains the means or the causes which must produce it. After having decided to give, He decides that we shall pray in order to receive, as a father, who has resolved in advance to bestow a pleasure on his children, purposes to make them ask for it. The gift of God is a result; prayer is the cause ordained to obtain it. St. Gregory the Great says: "Men ought by prayer to dispose themselves to receive what Almighty God from eternity has decided to give them" (Dialogues, Bk. I, chap. 8. This passage is quoted by St. Thomas in IIa IIae, q. 83, a. 2). Thus Christ, wishing to convert the Samaritan woman, led her to pray by saying to her: "If thou didst know the gift of God!" In the same way, He granted Magdalen a strong and gentle actual grace which inclined her to repentance and to prayer. He acted in the same manner toward Zacheus and the good thief. It is, therefore, as necessary to pray in order to obtain the help of God, which we need to do good and to persevere in it, as it is necessary to sow seed in order to have wheat. To those who say that what was to happen would happen, whether they prayed or not, the answer must be made that such a statement is as foolish as to maintain that whether we sowed seed or not, once the summer came, we would have wheat. Providence affects not only the results, but the means to be [433] employed, and in addition it differs form fatalism in that it safeguards human liberty by a grace as gentle as it is efficacious, fortiter et suaviter. Without a doubt, an actual grace is necessary in order to pray; but this grace is offered to all, and only those who refuse it are deprived of it [6].

Therefore prayer is necessary to obtain the help of God, as seed is necessary for the harvest. Even more, though the best seed, for lack of favorable exterior conditions, can produce nothing, though thousands of seed are lost, true, humble, trusting prayer, by which we ask for ourselves what is necessary for salvation, is never lost. It is heard in this sense, that it obtains for us the grace to continue praying.

The efficacy of prayer well made is infallibly assured by Christ: "Ask, and it shall be given you: seek and you shall find: knock, and it shall be opened to you.... And which of you, if he ask his father bread, will he give him a stone? Or a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent? ... If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father from heaven give the good Spirit to them that ask Him?" (Luke 11:9–13). To the apostles He also says: "Amen, amen I say to you: if you ask the Father anything in my name, He will give it to you. Hitherto you have not asked anything in My name" (John 16:23 f.). Prayerful souls ought more than all [434] others to live by this doctrine, which is elementary for every Christian; by living it, one discovers its depths.

Let us, therefore, have confidence in the efficacy of prayer. It is not [...] a human force which has its first principle in us; the source of its efficacy is in God and in the infinite merits of Christ. It descends from an eternal decree of love, it reascends to divine mercy. A fountain of water rises only if the water descends form an equal height. Likewise when we pray, it is not a question of persuading God, of inclining Him to change His providential dispositions; rather we have only to lift our will to the height of His in order to will with Him in time what He has decided from all eternity to grant us. Far from tending to bring the Most High down toward us, "prayer is a lifting up of the soul toward God," as the fathers say. When we pray and are heard, it seems to us that the will of God inclines toward us; on the contrary, it is ours which rises; we begin to will in time what God willed for us from all eternity.

Hence, far from being opposed to the divine governance, prayer cooperates in it. We are two who will instead of one. And when, for example, we have prayed much in order to obtain a conversion and have been heard, we can say that it is certainly God who converted this soul, but who deigned to associate us with Him and from all eternity had decided to make us pray that this great grace might be obtained.

Thus we cooperate in our salvation by asking for ourselves the graces necessary to attain it; among these graces, some, such as that of final perseverance, cannot be merited, but are obtained by humble, trusting, and persevering prayer. Likewise, efficacious grace, which preserves us form mortal sin and keeps us in the state of grace, is not merited; otherwise we would merit the very principle of merit (the continued state of grace); but it can be obtained by prayer. Moreover, the actual and efficacious grace of loving contemplation, although, properly speaking, not merited de condigno, is obtained by prayer: "Wherefore I wished, and understanding was given me: and I called upon God, and the spirit of wisdom came upon me" (Wis. 7:7).

[435] Even when we are trying to obtain the grace of conversion for another, who perhaps resists it, the greater the number of persons who pray and the more each one perseveres in prayer, the more hope there is of obtaining this grace of conversion. Prayer thus greatly cooperates in the divine governance.

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Footnotes:

1. Merit de condigno is based on justice; merit de congruo, on the rights of friendship.

2. N.B. The context clearly shows that Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange doesn't mean material poverty but rather spiritual poverty; hence he also uses the word "wretchedness." He further repeats the common theological teaching that prayer well made infallibly obtains, not material wealth, but the grace necessary for salvation.

3. Cf. St. Thomas, IIa IIae, q. 83, a. 15 ad 2um: "Four conditions are laid down: namely, to ask (1) for ourselves (2) things necessary for salvation (3) piously, (4) perseveringly; when all these four concur, we always obtain what we ask for." And likewise of the sinner's prayer, he says (ibid., a. 16): "God hears the sinner's prayer if it proceeds from a good natural desire, not out of justice, because the sinner does not merit to be heard, but out of pure mercy, provided, however, he fulfills the four conditions given above, namely, that he beseech for himself things necessary for salvation, piously, and perseveringly."

4. This divine immutability is often affirmed, and in a beautiful manner, in Holy Scripture: "God is not a man...that He should be changed" (Num. 23:19). "The heavens are the works of Thy hands. They shall perish, but Thou remainest: and all of them shall grow old like a garment, and as a vesture Thou shalt change them, and they shall be changed. But Thou art always the selfsame, and Thy years shall not fail" (Ps. 101:26–28). "Every best gift, and every perfect gift, is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no change, nor shadow of alteration" (Jas. 1:17).

5. Cf. St. Thomas, IIa IIae, q. 83, a. 2: "Divine providence disposes not only what effects shall take place, but also from what causes and in what order these effects shall proceed. Now, among other causes, human acts are the causes of certain effects. Wherefore it must be that men do certain actions, not that thereby they may change the divine disposition, but that by those actions they may achieve certain effects according to the order of the divine disposition: and the same is to be said of natural causes. And so it is with regard to prayer. For we pray, not that we may change the divine disposition, but that we may impetrate that which God has disposed to be fulfilled by our prayers."

6. To every adult, though he may be a great sinner, is offered the efficacious grace to pray. How? Every man receives from time to time the actual grace which renders prayer really possible for him. In this sufficient grace is offered efficacious help, as fruit in the flower. But if a man resists this grace, called sufficient grace, he merits to be deprived of efficacious grace, which would make him pray effectively. [...]

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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), 428–435.

Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange on the Ways of Abandoning Ourselves to Providence

We have said that it is because of the wisdom and goodness of providence that we should put our trust in it and abandon ourselves completely to it; and further, that, provided we fulfil [sic] our daily duties, this self-surrender should then embrace everything, all that concerns both soul and body, remembering that if we are faithful in small things grace will be given us to be faithful in what is greater.

Now let us see what forms this confidence and self-abandonment must take according to the nature of events as these do or do not depend on the will of man; let us see what spirit should animate it, what virtues should inspire it.

On the various ways of abandoning oneself to providence according to the nature of the event

In order to have a proper understanding of the doctrine of holy indifference, it is well to point out, as spiritual writers frequently do, that our self-abandonment must be in different ways in so far as events independent of the human will call for a type of self-abandonment different from that required by the injustice done to us by men, or our personal sins and their consequences.

Where it concerns events independent of the human will (such as accidents impossible to foresee, incurable diseases), our self-abandonment cannot be too absolute. Resistance here would be useless and would only serve to make us more unhappy; whereas, by accepting them in the spirit of faith, confidence and love, these unavoidable sufferings will become very meritorious. [1] In times of affliction, as often as we say, "Thy will be done," we acquire new merit, and thus what is a real trial becomes a means of great sanctification. Moreover, even in trials that may come upon us, but which perhaps will never materialize, self-abandonment is still of great profit. In preparing to sacrifice his son with perfect self-abandonment, Abraham gained much merit, even though in the event God ceased to demand it of him. By the practice of self-abandonment trials present and to come thus become means of sanctification, the more so as it is inspired by a more intense love for God.

Where it concerns sufferings brought upon us through the injustice of men, their ill will, their unfairness in their dealings with us, their calumnies, what must our attitude be?

St. Thomas (Summa Th., IIaIIæ, q.72, a.3; q.73, a.3 ad 3um), speaking of the injuries and undeserved reproaches, the insults and slanders that affect only our person, declares we must be ready to bear them with patience in compliance with our Lord's words: "If one strike thee on thy right cheek, turn to him also the other" (Mt. 5:39). But, he continues, there are occasions when some answer is called for, either for the good of the person who injures us, to put a stop to his insolence, or to avoid the scandal such slanders and calumnies may cause. If we do feel bound to retaliate and offer some sort of resistance, let us put ourselves unreservedly in God's hands for the success of the steps we take. In other words, we must deplore and reprove these acts of injustice not because they are wounding to our self-love and pride, but because they are an offense against God, endangering the salvation of the guilty parties and of those who may be led astray by them.

So far as we are concerned, we should see in the injustice men do to us the action of divine justice permitting this evil in order to give us an opportunity of expiating other and very real failings, failings with which no one reproaches us. It is well also to see in this sort of trial the action of divine mercy, which would make of it a means to detach us from creatures, to rid us of our inordinate affections, our pride and lukewarmness, and thus oblige us to have immediate recourse to a fervent prayer of supplication. Spiritually these acts of injustice are like the surgeon's knife, very painful at times but a great corrective. The suffering they cause must bring home to us the value of true justice; not only must it lead us to be just in our dealings with our neighbor, but it must give birth in us to the beatitude of those who, as the Gospel says, hunger and thirst after justice and who shall indeed have their fill.

And so, instead of upsetting and embittering us, men's contempt for us may have a very salutary effect, by impressing us with the utter vanity of all human glory and with the sublimity of the glory of God as the saints have understood it. It is the way leading to that true humility which causes us to accept contempt and to love to be treated as objects worthy of contempt.

Lastly, what is to be our attitude regarding all those vexations of every kind that are the result not of injustice of others, but of our own failings, our own indiscretions and weaknesses?

In these failings of ours and their consequences, we must distinguish the element of disorder and guilt from the salutary humiliations resulting from them. Whatever our self-love may have to say, we can never regret too keenly any inordinateness there may have been in our actions, on account of the wrong it has done to God, and the harm it has done to our own soul and, as an almost invariable consequence, to the soul of our neighbor. As for the salutary humiliation resulting from it, we must accept it with complete self-abandonment according to the words of the psalm (118:71-77): "It is good for me that Thou hast humbled me: that I may learn Thy justifications. The law of my mouth is good to me, above thousands of gold and silver. . . . I know, O Lord, that Thy judgments are equity: and in Thy truth Thou hast humbled me. O let Thy mercy be for my comfort. . . . Let Thy tender mercies come unto me, and I shall live: for Thy law is my meditation."

These humiliations resulting from our personal failings are the true remedy for that exaggerated estimate of ourselves to which we so often cling in spite of the disapproval and contempt others show for us. It even happens that pride hardens us to humiliations from a purely external source, and causes us to offer to ourselves the incense others refuse us. This is one of the most subtle and dangerous forms of self-love and pride, and, to correct it, the divine mercy makes use of those humiliations which are the result of our own failings; in its loving kindness it makes those very failings contribute to our progress. Hence, while laboring to correct ourselves, we should accept these humiliations with perfect self-abandonment. "It is good for me that Thou hast humbled me, O Lord." It is the way leading to a practical realization of those profound words of the Imitation, so fruitful to one who has really understood them: "Love to be unknown and accounted as nought." By this doctrine we must live according as the occurrences do or do not depend on ourselves.

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Notes:

1.  There are instances where a life has been completely changed by trials, as may be seen from the biography of Abbé Girard, entitled, Vingt-deux ans de martyr. After receiving the diaconate, this saintly priest contracted tuberculosis of the bones and for twenty-two years was confined to his bed in the cruelest suffering, which he offered up each day for the priests of his generation. Here was one who to his great grief was never able to celebrate mass [sic], and yet he was daily united to our Lord's sacrifice perpetuated on the altar. Far from breaking up his vocation, sickness transfigured it.

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Source: Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, Providence, trans. by Dom Bede Rose (Rockford, IL: TAN Books, 1998), 226-230.

Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange on What We Must Abandon to Providence

In what matters we should abandon ourselves to divine Providence

Once we have complied with the principles just laid down, when we have done all that the law of God and Christian prudence demand, our self-abandonment should then embrace everything. What does this involve? In the first place, our whole future, what our circumstances will be tomorrow, in twenty years and more. We must also abandon ourselves to God in all that concerns the present, in the midst of the difficulties we may be experiencing right now; even our past life, our past actions with all their consequences should be abandoned to the divine mercy.

We must likewise abandon ourselves to God in all that affects the body, in health and sickness, as well as in all that affects the soul, whether it be joy or tribulation, of long or brief duration. We must abandon ourselves to God in all that concerns the good will or malice of men. Says St. Paul:

If God be for us, who is against us? He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how hath He not also, with Him, given us all things? . . . Who then shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulations? Or distress? Or famine? Or nakedness? Or danger? Or persecutions? Or the sword? . . . I am sure that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things to come, nor might, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Could there be a more perfect self-abandonment in the spirit of faith, hope, and love? This is an abandonment embracing all the vicissitudes of this world, all the upheavals that may convulse it, embracing life and death, the hour of death, and the circumstances, peaceful or violent, in which we breathe forth our last sigh.

The same thought has been expressed in the psalms: "Fear the Lord . . . for there is no want to them that fear Him. The rich have wanted, and have suffered hunger: but they that seek the Lord shall not be deprived of any good" (Ps. 33:10); "O how great is the multitude of Thy sweetness, O Lord, which Thou hast hidden for them that fear Thee! Which Thou hast wrought for them that hope in Thee. . . . Thou shalt hide them in the secret of Thy face from the disturbance of men. Thou shalt protect them in Thy tabernacle from the contradiction of tongues" (Ps. 30:20-21). [...]

What is our practical conclusion to be? It is this, that in doing our utmost to carry out our daily duties we must for the rest abandon ourselves to divine providence, and that with the most childlike confidence. And if we are really striving to be faithful in little things, in the practice of humility, gentleness, and patience, in the daily routine of our lives, God on His part will give us the grace to be faithful in greater and more difficult things, should He perchance ask them of us; then, in those exceptional circumstances, He will give to those that seek Him exceptional graces.

In psalm 54:23 we are told: "Cast thy care upon the Lord, and He shall sustain thee: He shall not suffer the just to waver forever. . . .  But I will trust Thee, O Lord."

Imbued with these same sentiments, St. Paul writes to the Philippians (4:4): "Rejoice in the Lord always: again, I say, rejoice. Let your modesty be known to all men. The Lord is nigh. Be nothing solicitous: but in everything, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your petitions be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasseth all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus."

Again, in order to exhort us to have confidence, St. Peter tells us in his First Epistle (5:5):

Be ye humbled therefore under the mighty hand of God, that He may exalt you in the time of visitation: casting all your care upon Him, for He hath care of you. Be sober and watch: because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour. Whom resist ye, strong in faith: knowing that the same affliction befalls your brethren who are in the world. But the God of all grace, who hath called us into His eternal glory in Christ Jesus, after you have suffered a little, will Himself perfect you and confirm you and establish you.

"Blessed are they that trust in Him" (Ps. 2:13). "They that hope in the Lord," says Isaias, "shall renew their strength. . . . They shall walk and not faint" (40:31).

We have a perfect model of this abandonment to divine providence in St. Joseph, in the many difficulties that beset him at the moment of our Lord's birth at Bethlehem, and again when he heard the mournful prophecy of the aged Simeon, and during all the time that elapsed from the flight away from Herod into Egypt until the return to Nazareth.

Following his example, let us live our lives in that same spirit, fulfilling our daily duties, and the grace of God will never be wanting. By His grace we shall be equal to anything He asks of us, no matter how difficult it may sometimes be.

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Source: Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, Providence, trans. Dom Bede Rose (Rockford, IL: TAN Books, 1998), 221-225.

Dom Vitalis Lehodey on Persecutions from the Good

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fr. Alphonsus Rodriguez, S.J., on the Degrees of Surrender to Providence

For in this virtue [of patient resignation to God's providence] as well as in others, there are several degrees, which may all be reduced to three; according to the distinction of degrees the saints note in the virtue of patience.

The first degree is, when we are far from desiring or taking a pleasure in misfortunes that befall us, but on the contrary we avoid and shun them, as far as we are able: yet we would rather suffer and undergo them, than incur any sin in avoiding them. And this is the lowest degree, and what precisely is of indispensable obligation. So that supposing we are sensibly touched with any mischances or accidents; that we groan and sigh in our sickness, that we cry out in the violence of our pain; that we mourn and lament at the death of our parents or friends, we may notwithstanding all this have conformity to the divine will. 

The second degree is, when although of ourselves we have no inclinations to desire pains and afflictions, nevertheless when they happen, we receive and bear them most willingly; because we know the will of God is thereby executed. And in what this degree surpasses the former, is, that it makes us in some manner love afflictions for God's sake, and that we are willing to suffer them not only with patience, in as much as we are obliged thereto under sin, but also with a sort of joy, in as much as we are convinced it is a thing very pleasing to God. The first degree makes us suffer things with patience. The second, makes us suffer them with a prompt and cheerful disposition of mind, towards what God ordains. 

But the third, and most perfect degree of all, is, when out of an excess of love towards God, we do not, only suffer and accept willingly all the afflictions and pains he sends; but we even prevent him by our desires, and rejoice; because we know they happen not but by the adorable decree of his holy will. 

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Source: Fr. Alphonsus Rodriguez, The Practice of Christian Perfection, tract 8, chap. 12.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fr. Garrigou-Lagrange on Why Abandon Ourselves to Providence

It behooves us therefore to determine exactly the meaning and import of the true doctrine of self-abandonment to the will of God if we are to be saved from these sophistries, which have no more than a false appearance of Christian perfection.

We shall first see why it is we should practice this self-abandonment to Providence, and then in what matters. After that we shall see what form it should take and what is the attitude of Providence toward those who abandon themselves completely to it. [...]

Why we should abandon ourselves to divine providence

The answer of every Christian will be that the reason lies in the wisdom and goodness of Providence. This is very true; nevertheless, if we are to have a proper understanding of the subject, if we are to avoid the error of the Quietists in renouncing more or less the virtue of hope and the struggle necessary for salvation, if we are to avoid also the other extreme of disquiet, precipitation, and a feverish, fruitless agitation, it is expedient for us to lay down four principles already somewhat accessible to natural reason and clearly set forth in revelation as found in Scripture. These principles underlying the true doctrine of self-abandonment, also bring out the motive inspiring it.

The first of these principles is that everything which comes to pass has been foreseen by God from all eternity, and has been willed or at least permitted by Him.

Nothing comes to pass either in the material or in the spiritual world, but God has foreseen it from all eternity; because with Him there is no passing from ignorance to knowledge as with us, and He has nothing to learn from events as they occur. Not only has God foreseen everything that is happening now or will happen in the future, but whatever reality and goodness there is in these things He has willed; and whatever evil or moral disorder is in them, He has merely permitted. Holy Scripture is explicit on this point, and, as the councils have declared, no room is left for doubt in the matter.

The second principle is that nothing can be willed or permitted by God that does not contribute to the end He purposed in creating, which is the manifestation of His goodness and infinite perfections, and the glory of the God-man Jesus Christ, His only Son. As St. Paul says (1 Cor. 2:23), "All are yours. And you are Christ's. And Christ is God's."

In addition to these two principles, there is a third, which St. Paul states thus (Rom. 8:28): "We know that to them that love God all things work together unto good: to such as, according to His purpose, are called to be saints" and persevere in His love. God sees to it that everything contributes to their spiritual welfare, not only the grace He bestows on them, not only those natural qualities He endows them with, but sickness too, and contradictions and reverses; as St. Augustine tells us, even their very sins, which God only permits in order to lead them on to a truer humility and thereby to a purer love. It was thus He permitted the threefold denial of St. Peter, to make the great Apostle more humble, more mistrustful of self, and by this very means become stronger and trust more in the divine mercy.

These first three principles may therefore be summed up in this way: Nothing comes to pass but God has foreseen it, willed it or at least permitted it. He wills nothing, permits nothing, unless for the manifestation of His goodness and infinite perfections, for the glory of His Son, and the welfare of those that love Him. In view of these three principles, it is evident that our trust in Providence cannot be too childlike, too steadfast. Indeed, we may go further and say that this trust in Providence should be blind as is our faith, the object of which is those mysteries that are non-evident and unseen (fides est de non visis [NB: "faith is of things unseen"]) for we are certain beforehand that Providence is directing all things infallibly to a good purpose, and we are more convinced of the rectitude of His designs than we are of the best of our own intentions. Therefore, in abandoning ourselves to God, all we have to fear is that our submission will not be wholehearted enough. [1]

In view of Quietism, however, this last sentence obliges us to lay down a fourth principle no less certain than the principles that have preceded. The principle is, that obviously self-abandonment does not dispense us from doing everything in our power to fulfil [sic] God's will as made known in the commandments and counsels, and in the events of life; but so long as we have the sincere desire to carry out His will thus made known from day to day, we can and indeed we must abandon ourselves for the rest to the divine will of good pleasure, no matter how mysterious it may be, and thus avoid a useless disquiet and mere agitation. [2]

This fourth principle is expressed in equivalent terms by the Council of Trent (Sess. VI, cap. 13), when it declares that we must all have firm hope in God's assistance and put our trust in Him, being careful at the same time to keep His commandments. As the well-known proverb has it: "Do what you ought, come what may."

All theologians explain what is meant by the divine will as expressed: expressed, that is, in the commandments, in the spirit underlying the counsels, and in the events of life. [3] They add that, while conforming ourselves to His expressed will, we must abandon ourselves to His divine will of good pleasure, however mysterious it may be, for we are certain beforehand that in its holiness it wills nothing, permits nothing, unless for a good purpose.

We must take special note here of these words in the Gospel of St. Luke (16:10): "He that is faithful in that which is least is faithful also in that which is greater." If every day we do what we can to be faithful to God in the ordinary routine of life, we may be confident that He will give us grace to remain faithful in whatever extremity we may find ourselves through His permission; and if we are to suffer for Him, He will give us the grace to die a heroic death rather than be ashamed of Him and betray Him.

These are the principles underlying the doctrine of trusting self-abandonment. Accepted as they are all by all theologians, they express what is of Christian faith in this matter. The golden mean is thus above and between the two errors mentioned at the beginning of this section [i.e. Quietism and activism]. By constant fidelity to duty, we avoid the false and idle repose of the Quietist, and on the other hand by a trustful self-abandonment we are saved from a useless disquiet and a fruitless agitation. Self-abandonment would be sloth did it not presuppose this daily fidelity, which indeed is a sort of springboard from which we may safely launch ourselves into the unknown. Daily fidelity to the divine will as expressed gives us a sort of right to abandon ourselves completely to the divine will of good pleasure as yet not made known to us.

A faithful soul will often recall to mind these words of our Lord: "My meat is to do the will of Him that sent me" (John 4:34). The soul finds its constant nourishment in the divine will as expressed, abandoning itself to the divine will as yet not made known, much as a swimmer supports himself on the passing wave and surrenders himself to the oncoming wave, to that ocean that might engulf him but that actually sustains him. So the soul must strike out toward the open sea, into the infinite ocean of being, says St. John Damascene, borne up by the divine will as made known there and then and abandoning itself to that divine will upon which all successive moments of the future depend. The future is with God, future events are in His hands. If the merchants to whom Joseph was sold by his brethren had passed by one hour sooner, he would not have gone into Egypt, and the whole course of his life would have been changed. Our lives also are dependent on events controlled by God. Daily fidelity and trusting self-abandonment thus give the spiritual life its balance, its stability and harmony. In this way we live our lives in almost continuous recollection, in an ever-increasing self-abnegation, and these are the conditions normally required for contemplation and union with God. This, then, is the reason why our life should be one of self-abandonment to the divine will as yet unknown to us and at the same time supported every moment by that will as already made known to us.

In this union of fidelity and self-abandonment we have some idea of the way in which asceticism, insisting on fidelity or conformity to the divine will, should be united with mysticism, which emphasizes self-abandonment.

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Notes:

1. By the gift of fear, hope is prevented from turning to presumption, as magnanimity is prevented by humility from degenerating into pride. [...] They are complementary virtues which, by their interconnection, balance and strengthen one another, and thus they increase together.

2. [...] Bossuet, Etats d'oraison, Bk. VIII, chap. 9, says: "Christian indifference being out of the question where the expressed will of God is concerned, we must restrict it, as St. Francis de Sales does, to certain events controlled by His will of good pleasure, whose sovereign commands determine the daily occurrences in the course of life."

Dom Vital Lehodey, Holy Abandonment, tr. by Luddy, O. Cist., p. 123, says: "In short, the good pleasure of God is the domain of abandonment, His expressed will, of obedience."

3. Cf. St. Thomas, Ia, q.19, a.11, 12: "On the will of expression in God." Certain events, such as the death of another, have great significance. As St. Thomas points out (ibid.), sins are permitted by God--personal sins, like the threefold denial in St. Peter's life, which God permitted so as to make him more humble; sins also that others commit against us, acts of injustice which God permits that we may derive spiritual profit from them, as He permitted the persecutions against the Church.

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Source: Fr. Reginald Garrigou-Lagrange, Providence, trans. by Dom Bede Rose (Rockford, IL: TAN Books, 1998), 215-221.