Let the water flow beneath the bridge. Let men be men; that is to say, weak, vain, inconsistent, unjust, false, and presumptuous. Let the world be the world still; you can not prevent it. Let every one follow his own inclination and habits: you can not recast them, and the best course is to let them be as they are and bear with them. Do not think it strange when you witness unreasonableness and injustice; rest in peace in the bosom of God: He sees it all more clearly than you do, and yet permits it. Be content to do quietly and gently what it becomes you to do, and let everything else be to you as though it were not.
As long as the world is anything to us, so long our freedom is but a word, and we are as easily captured as a bird whose leg is fastened by a thread. He seems to be free; the string is not visible, but he can fly only its length, and he is a prisoner.
Do not be vexed at what people say. Let them speak while you endeavor to do the will of God. A little silence, peace, and communion with God will compensate you for all the injustice of men. We must love our fellow-beings without depending on their friendship. They leave us, they return, and they go from us again. Let them go or come; it is the feather blown about by the wind. Fix your attention upon God alone in your connection with them. It is He alone who, through them, consoles or afflicts you.
Possess your soul in patience. Renew often within you the feeling of the presence of God, that you may learn moderation. There is nothing truly great but lowliness, charity, fear of ourselves, and detachment from the dominion of sense. Accustom yourself gradually to carry prayer into your daily occupations. Speak, move, act in peace as if you were in prayer. Do everything without eagerness as if by the Spirit of God. As soon as you perceive your natural impetuosity impelling you, retire into the sanctuary where dwells the Father of spirits; listen to what you hear there; and then neither say nor do anything but what He dictates in your heart. You will find that you will become more tranquil, that your words will be fewer and more to the purpose, and that with less effort you will accomplish more good. When the heart is fixed on God it can easily accustom itself to suspend the natural movements of ardent feeling, and to wait for the favorable moment when the voice within may speak. This is the continual sacrifice of self, and the life of faith.
The Faults of Others.
Perfection is easily tolerant of the imperfections of others; it becomes all things to all men. We must not be surprised at the greatest defects in good souls, and must quietly let them alone until God gives the signal of gradual removal; otherwise we shall pull up the wheat with the tares.
They who correct others ought to watch the moment when God touches their hearts; we must bear a fault with patience till we perceive His Spirit reproaching them within. We must imitate Him who gently reproves, so that they feel that it is less God that condemns them than their own hearts. When we blame with impatience, because we are displeased with the fault, it is a human censure and not the disapprobation of God. It is a sensitive self-love that can not forgive the self-love of others. The more self-love we have, the more severe our censures. There is nothing so vexatious as the collisions between one excessive self-love and another still more violent and excessive. The passions of others are infinitely ridiculous to those who are under the dominion of their own. The ways of God are very different. He is ever full of kindness for us; He gives us strength; He regards us with pity and condescension; He remembers our weakness; He waits for us.
I am very sorry for the imperfections you find in human beings, but you must learn to expect but little from them; this is the only security against disappointment. We must receive from them what they are able to give us, as from trees the fruits that they yield. God bears with imperfect beings even when they resist His goodness. We ought to imitate this merciful patience and endurance. It is only imperfection that complains of what is imperfect. The more perfect we are, the more gentle and quiet we become toward the defects of others.
The defects of our neighbors interfere with our own; our vanity is wounded by that of another; our own haughtiness finds our neighbor’s ridiculous and insupportable; our restlessness is rebuked by the sluggishness and indolence of this person; our gloom is disturbed by the gayety and frivolity of that person; and our heedlessness by the shrewdness and address of another. If we were faultless we should not be so much annoyed by the defects of those with whom we associate. If we were to acknowledge honestly that we have not virtue enough to bear patiently with our neighbor’s weaknesses, we should show our own imperfection, and this alarms our vanity. We therefore make our weakness pass for strength, elevate it to a virtue, and call it zeal. For it is not surprising to see how tranquil we are about the errors of others when they do not trouble us, and how soon this wonderful zeal kindles against those who excite our jealousy or weary our patience.