ELEVENTH PRESERVATIVE
Not to judge or suspect rashly
EXPEL every doubt, every thought, likely to diminish esteem. They amuse themselves with a most dangerous game who always gather up vague thoughts of the past, rumours without foundation, conjectures in which passion has the greatest share, and thus form in their minds characters of their brethren—adding always, never subtracting—and by dint of the high idea they have of their own ability conclude that all their judgments are true, and thus become fixed in their bad habit. St. Bernard, comparing them to painters, warns them that it is the devil who furnishes the materials, and even the evil conceptions, necessary to depict such bad impressions of their brethren. We read in the "Life of St. Francis" that our Lord Himself called in a distinct voice a certain young man to his Order. "O Lord," replied the young man, "when I am once entered, what must I do to please You?" Pay particular attention to our Lord's answer: "Lead thou a life in common with the rest. Avoid particular friendships. Take no notice of the defects of others, and form no unfavourable judgments about them." What matter for consideration in these admirable words!
Thomas à Kempis says: "Turn thy eyes back upon thyself, and see thou judge not the doing of others. In judging others a man labours in vain, often errs, and easily sins; but in judging and looking into himself he always labours with fruit. We frequently judge of a thing according to the inclination of our hearts, because self-love easily alters in us a true judgment."
Rodriguez tells us to turn on ourselves the sinister questions, etc., we are tempted to refer to others e.g.: "It is I who am deceived. It is through jealousy that I condemn my brethren. It is through malice that I find so much to blame in them. Finally, the fault is mine, not theirs."
Even when reports more or less true might depreciate in your eyes some of the community, may they not have, besides their faults, some great but hidden virtues, and by these be entitled to a more merciful judgment? St. Augustine says beautifully: "If you cast your eye over a field where the corn has been trampled, you only perceive the straw, not the grain. Lift up the straw, and you will see plenty of golden sheaves full of grain." The simile is very applicable to a poor religious beaten down by foul tongues. We blame the defects of our brethren, and perhaps we have the same, or others more shameful still. We usurp the right of judgment, which God reserves to Himself, and forget that He will punish us by leaving us to our own irregular passions. Ah! is it not already a very great misfortune to have these contemptuous, slanderous, distrustful thoughts, and many other sins, the result of malicious suspicions and rash judgments, rooted in the soul?
[XXXI]
MEANS TO SUPPORT THE EVIL THOUGHTS AND TONGUES OF OTHERS
WHAT must be done in those painful moments when, being the victim of a painful calumny, the object of suspicion, the butt of domestic persecution, we are tempted to believe that charity is banished from the community, and so to banish it from our own heart? Recall the words of St. John of the Cross. "Imagine," says he, "that your brethren are so many sculptors armed with mallets and chisels, and that you have been placed before them as a block of marble destined in the mind of God to become a statue representing the Man of Sorrows, Jesus crucified." Consider a hasty word said to you as a thorn in the head; a mockery as a spit in the face; an unkind act as a nail in the hand; a hatred which takes the place of friendship as a lance in the side; all that which hurts, contradicts, or humiliates us as the blows, stripes, the gall and vinegar, the crown of thorns and the cross. The work proceeds always, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly. Let us not complain. We will one day thank these workmen, who, without intending it, give to our soul the most beautiful, the most glorious, and the noblest traits. We ourselves are sculptors as well as statues, and we will find that, on our part, we have materially helped to form in them the same traits.
"If all were perfect," says the "Imitation," "what, then, should we have to suffer from others for God's sake?"
It is not forbidden us to seek consolation. But from whom? Is it from those discontented spirits whose ears are like public sewers, the receptacle of every filth and dirt? They increase our pain by pouring the poison of their own discontent instead of the oil of the Good Samaritan. They will take our disease and give us theirs, and, like Samson's foxes, spread destruction around by repeating what we said to them. May God preserve us from this misfortune! If we cannot carry our burden alone, and if we find it no relief to lay our griefs in the Sacred Heart of Jesus, let us go to him whom the rule appoints to be our friend and consoler, our confidant and director, and who, as St. Augustine relates of St. Monica, after having listened to us with patience, charity, and compassion, after having at first appeared to share our sentiments, will sweeten and explain all with prudence, will lift up and encourage our oppressed heart, and by his counsel and prayers will restore us to peace and charity.