The Joy of Mortification
The Easter season is coming to an end, and it's time to observe the Ember Days of Pentecost, and then return to weekly disciplines of fasting and abstinence. These disciplines are good for our souls, keeping us on the narrow way that leads to the perhaps far-off day when we leave this vale of tears. But mortifications also should serve more immediate ends. They can make us better Christians, which does not mean we become hangry scolds or smug aesthetes. Mortifications can and should produce joy in our souls, here and now--not because we think earthly pleasures are sinful, but because they remind us to turn our hearts daily to the source of all joy.
We won't get these reminders from our postmodern secular culture. The world tells us that the key to happiness is to figure out what you want, and go get it, letting no one stand in your way. What impedes us in this pseudo-sacred quest for self-fulfillment is an accumulation of inhibitions. The prophets of postmodernity see all humanity (except themselves) as sadly burdened with the unhealthy strictures imposed by traditional values (bad) and Biblical religion (bad bad!). These inhibitions supposedly damage our psyches and are the real cause of all unhappiness and indeed all evils--injustice, violence, famine, conservative politics, you name it. By this reasoning, if everybody could just get in touch with their real desires, we'd have world peace. This also is the guiding principle behind gender ideology. It's just another outreach of the cult of desire. Sex is one of the most powerful human desires. Feed the desire, they advise, and you'll be happy. If you follow this seductive advice, and then find you're not happy, then you can blame it on other people's bigotry and repression.
Jesus very obviously wants to point us in the opposite direction, away from ourselves: "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow me. For whosoever will save his life, shall lose it; for he that shall lose his life for my sake, shall save it." Lk 9:23-24 (Douay Rheims). Progress in the spiritual life requires mortification of the desires.
Of course this means overcoming the desire for things we know are sinful. I suspect our enemy the devil gains more souls, not by tricking people into doing things they know are bad, but by convincing them that bad things aren't really that bad. The former strategy attacks the will, and the latter attacks the intellect. Of these two attacks, the latter is more deadly. Temptation will overcome a weakened will perhaps most of the time, but the person might rally on occasion and win a round. Each victory can build one's strength and be a source of grace to continue the fight. But a darkened intellect is unlikely to even notice the danger.
Turning away from sin is not the last step on the way to holiness. It is only the beginning, or only the beginning of the beginning. This is one of the first lessons St. John of the Cross teaches in The Ascent of Mount Carmel. The truth is that many people never make it past the first lesson, because it seems unnecessary, or just too hard. St. John shows himself to be a good spiritual father who anticipates these mental blocks:
I expect that for a long time the reader has been wishing to ask whether it be necessary, in order to attain to this high estate of perfection, to undergo first of all total mortification in all the desires, great and small, or if it will suffice to mortify some of them and to leave others, those at least which seem of little moment. For it appears to be a severe and most difficult thing for the soul to be able to attain to such purity and detachment that it has no will and affection for anything.
Ascent of Mount Carmel I.11.1. Yes, it is difficult, but we must take courage. The first 10 chapters of the Ascent contain painfully clear illustrations of how desires weaken, defile, and torment the soul and generally seem to constitute a detestable plague. Anyone really grasping this material is bound to start thinking about this or that desirable thing, and wondering: Do I have to give up that?!
St. John gives us a little reassurance--only a little, but it's important. He acknowledges we have appetites, and we always will: “To eradicate the natural appetites, that is, to mortify them entirely, is impossible in this life. Even though they are not entirely mortified, as I say, they are not such a hindrance as to prevent one from attaining divine union.” Ibid. I.11.2. So let us breathe a collective sigh of relief. We can feel in ourselves a desire for warm slippers, the praise of others, a Super Bowl ring for the home team, potato chips, and all the rest, and still progress toward union with God.
However, we do have a challenge: keeping the desires from rising out of the sensual part of the soul--the part that experiences warmth, security, and satiation in spite of ourselves--and entangling our higher faculties. We have to steadily work to disengage these desires from the rational part of the soul, where the will and intellect operate.
The saint is not presenting an abstract theological point of interest only to specialists. This is advice as practical as any you'll find in a self-help manual. When you become aware that a desire is being stirred up, recognize it for what it is (through the intellect), and decline to be drawn into acting on it (through the will). These small acts of self-awareness and self-control have cosmic significance for our souls.
What then becomes of all the pleasant and familiar comforts? Something wonderful:
If you purify your soul of extraneous attachments and appetites, you will understand things spiritually, and if you negate the desire for them, you will enjoy the truth of them, understanding in them what is certain.*
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* "Dichos de Luz y Amor" No. 48, in Obras Completas, 7th ed. (2019) Grupo Editorial Fonte, p. 104.
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This article originally appeared on www.spiritualdirection.com.
