Letters of Catherine BenincasaCatherine, of Siena, Saint
Religion
Letters of Catherine Benincasa
Catherine, of Siena, Saint
Catherine, of Siena, Saint, 1347-1380 -- Correspondence; Christian women saints -- Italy -- Siena -- Correspondence
immoderately loves himself and the things of this world, becomes
unendurable to himself.
Oh, human blindness! Seest thou not, unfortunate man, that thou thinkest
to love things firm and stable, joyous things, good and fair? and they are
mutable, the sum of wretchedness, hideous, and without any goodness; not
as they are created things in themselves, since all are created by God,
who is perfectly good, but through the nature of him who possesses them
intemperately. How mutable are the riches and honours of the world in him
who possesses them without God, without the fear of Him! for to-day is he
rich and great, and to-day he is poor. How hideous is our bodily life,
that living we shed stench from every part of our body! Simply a sack of
dung, the food for worms, the food of death! Our life and the beauty of
youth pass by, like the beauty of the flower when it is gathered from the
plant. There is none who can save this beauty, none who can preserve it,
that it be not taken, when it shall please the highest Judge to gather
this flower of life by death; and none knows when.
Oh, wretched man, the darkness of self-love does not let thee know this
truth. For didst thou know it, thou wouldst choose any pain rather than
guide thy life in this way; thou wouldst give thee to loving and desiring
Him who Is; thou wouldst enjoy His truth in firmness, and wouldst not move
about like a leaf in the wind; thou wouldst serve thy Creator, and wouldst
love everything in Him, and apart from Him nothing. Oh, how will this
blindness be reproved at the last moment in every rational being, and much
the more in those whom God has taken from the filth of the world, and
assigned to the greatest excellence that can be, having made them
ministers of the Blood of the humble and spotless Lamb! Oh me, oh me! what
have you come to by not having followed up your dignities with virtue? You
were placed to nourish you at the breasts of Holy Church; you were flowers
planted to breathe forth the fragrance of virtue in that garden; you were
placed as masts to strengthen this ship, and the Vicar of Christ on earth;
you were placed as lights in a candlestick, to give light to faithful
Christians, and to spread the faith. Well you know if you have done that
for which you were created. Surely no; for self-love has prevented you
from knowing that in truth alone, to fortify men and give a shining
example of good and holy life, you were put in this garden. Had you known
this you would have loved it, and clothed you in that sweet truth. Where
is the gratitude which you ought to have for the Bride who has nourished
you at her breast? I see in us naught but such ingratitude as dries up the
fountain of pity. What shows me that you are ungrateful, coarse, and
mercenary? The persecution which you, together with others, are inflicting
on that sweet Bride, at a time when you ought to be shields, to ward off
the blows of heresy. In spite of which, you clearly know the truth, that
Pope Urban VI.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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