Pray for all, but especially for sinners, and in particular for those whose sins are most painful to His Sacred Heart. With great earnestness recommend to His mercy the poor souls who are in their agony. What a dreadful hour, an hour tremendously decisive, is the hour of our death! Surround with your love these souls going to appear before God, and defend them by your prayers.
COMMENT: It’s almost paradoxical – the most important moment of our lives is the very last moment. In this moment our eternity is decided. Someone who has lived a life of vice may convert and be saved, but similarly someone who lived a good life, if they freely and consciously commit a mortal sin at the moment of death and do not repent, cannot see God.
This is why the grace of final perseverance is so important, and why the saints constantly prayed for this grace. Even though we attempt to live a virtuous life, we should never presume that we will persevere. It is also one of the reasons why we must flee mortal sins with all our might, for we may die unexpectedly in the act of rebellion against God. (Of course, the more perfect reason to avoid mortal sin is because it offends God…).
In the Hail Mary we ask our Mother to “pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death”. How causally we can overlook the importance of these words.
Fr Doyle was acutely aware of the importance of those last final moments, and he risked his own life, and abandoned his own comforts, in order to provide the sacraments to soldiers during their last moments. Here is one small snippet out of many in his letters describing the gratitude of those soldiers who had the grace of a priest to bless them at the hour of death. May we all be similarly blessed with this grace!
A sad morning as casualties were heavy and many men came in dreadfully wounded. One man was the bravest I ever met. He was in dreadful agony, for both legs had been blown off at the knee But never a complaint fell from his lips, even while they dressed his wounds, and he tried to make light of his injuries. “Thank God, Father”, he said, “I am able to stick it out to the end. Is it not all for little Belgium?” The Extreme Unction, as I have noticed time and again, eased his bodily pain. “I am much better now and easier, God bless you”, he said, as I left him to attend a dying man. He opened his eyes as I knelt beside him: “Ah! Fr. Doyle, Fr. Doyle”, he whispered faintly, and then motioned me to bend lower as if he had some message to give. As I did so, he put his two arms round my neck and kissed me. It was all the poor fellow could do to show his gratitude that he had not been left to die alone and that he would have the consolation of receiving the Last Sacraments before he went to God. Sitting a little way off I saw a hideous bleeding object, a man with his face smashed by a shell, with one if not both eyes torn out. He raised his head as I spoke. “Is that the priest? Thank God, I am all right now.” I took his blood-covered hands in mine as I searched his face for some whole spot on which to anoint him. I think I know better now why Pilate said “Behold the Man” when he showed our Lord to the people.
Solid virtue is so called because it is formed by amassing together a facility in repeated acts. Hence the practice of any virtue is not the less meritorious because it is easy. Quite the contrary. The merit depends on the intention we had when we determined to practise the virtue, and not on the amount of pain it costs.
COMMENT: Here we see once again the tremendous balance of Fr Doyle. Solid virtue comes from practicing virtue time and time again, especially in little things. Big once-off actions, while they may be meritorious, are not the essence of well grounded virtue and holiness which comes from doing ordinary tasks with the right intention.
In this Fr Doyle was quite like St Francis de Sales who taught that even small, simple acts performed with love were of great merit.
Here is a description of St Francis’ view of the matter from his great friend and disciple Jean Pierre Camus, taken from the book The Spirit of St Francis de Sales:
He considered, as we have seen, that the degree of the supernatural in any virtue could not be decided by the greatness or smallness of the external act, since an act in itself altogether trivial, may be performed with much grace and charity, while a very brilliant and dazzling good work may be animated by but a very feeble spark of love of God, the intensity of which is, after all, the only rule by which to ascertain its true value in His sight.
On Saturday afternoon I will speak at the Hail Holy Queen Conference on Radio Maria Ireland about Fr Doyle and Marian devotion. The conference itself starts at 2pm and the presentation on Fr Doyle will commence at approximately 3.45pm Irish time. Details of how to listen in are found here:https://www.radiomaria.ie/how-to-listen/
To Mary’s feet in heaven today the angels come in never-ending stream to lay before her the offerings of her loving earthly children. To their Queen they bear fair wreaths of lovely roses. In many a lonely cottage or amid the bustle of the great city have these crowns been formed. Little ones and old folk, the pious nun and holy priest, the sinner too and many a wandering soul, have added to the glory of the Queen of Heaven; and from every corner of this earth to-day has risen the joyous praise of her who is Queen of the Holy Rosary. On earth she was the lowly handmaid of the Lord, and now all generations proclaim the greatness of her name.
COMMENT: Today is the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. Fr Doyle was of course very devoted to the rosary, and it formed an important part of his spiritual life.
He wrote the following in his diary on 22nd January 1915:
Last night I rose at twelve and knelt in the cellar for an hour to suffer from the cold. It was a hard fight to do so, but Jesus helped me. I said my rosary with arms extended. At the third mystery the pain was so great that I felt I could not possibly continue; but at each Ave I prayed for strength and was able to finish it. This has given me great consolation by showing the many hard things I could do with the help of prayer.
Fr Doyle was renowned for encouraging the soldiers to say the rosary, especially during the May devotions when he organised Marian processions. He makes the following touching observation in a letter to his father:
There were many little touching incidents during these days; one especially I shall not easily forget. When the men had left the field after the evening devotions, I noticed a group of three young boys, brothers I think, still kneeling saying another rosary. They knew it was probably their last meeting on earth and they seemed to cling to one another for mutual comfort and strength, and instinctively turned to the Blessed Mother to help them in their hour of need. There they knelt as if they were alone and unobserved, their hands clasped and faces turned towards heaven, with such a look of beseeching earnestness that the Mother of Mercy surely must have heard their prayer: Holy Mary pray for us now at the hour of our death. Amen.
As has been mentioned many times in the past, Fr Doyle had a great sense of humour and cheerfulness, so the following humorous anecdote deserves mention on this feast (bearing in mind the courage it must have taken to even summon up this cheerfulness when faced with the horrors of war):
When night fell, I made my way up to a part of the Line which could not be approached in daylight, to bury an officer and some men. A couple of grimy, unwashed figures emerged from the bowels of the earth to help me, but first knelt down and asked for Absolution. They then leisurely set to work to fill in the grave. “Hurry up, boys”, I said, “I don’t want to have to bury you as well”, for the spot was a hot one. They both stopped working much to my disgust, for I was just longing to get away. “Be gobs, Father”, replied one, “I haven’t the divil a bit of fear in me now after the holy Absolution”. “Nor I”, chimed in the other, “I am as happy as a king”. The poor Padre who had been keeping his eye on a row of crumps (German shells) which were coming unpleasantly near felt anything but happy; however there was nothing for it but to stick it out as the men were in a pious mood; and he escaped at last, grateful that he was not asked to say the rosary.
“Behold I stand at the gate and knock” (Rev. 3. 20)
Jesus stands at the door of my heart, patiently, uncomplainingly. How long has He been there? A year? Ten years? I have been afraid to let Him in.
Jesus knocks: “Open to Me, My Beloved.” My heart has been closed fast in spite of His calls, His inspirations, the appeals of His grace. How long? I have heard Him knocking, I have pretended I did not, I have longed He would go away. My God, how I must have pained You; but do not go away, wait a little longer.
I look out timidly to see who is calling. Why should I be afraid to let Him in? He has come to me, I have not sought Him. What love He must have for me! Jesus, why am I afraid of You, afraid to let You come into my heart?
Do I ever say, when an occasion of denying myself comes, “It’s too hard, I am no saint?” Might it not be asked of me in justice, “Why aren’t you? It is your business to be one, God intends you should be one, but you are too lazy, you won’t take the trouble.”
Let us remember that we must not drag Christ down to our own level, but rather we must let Christ lift us up to His level.
COMMENT: Fr Doyle’s words today hit where it hurts. We are not saints because we don’t take the trouble to become saints. Sanctity does not mean performing miracles or founding religious orders or even doing great things that will make us famous. It means loving God, conforming ourselves totally with His Will, and doing everything for love of Him. This is difficult, but God provides the grace we need to achieve it. But we ourselves must supply effort as well. Too often we “won’t take the trouble” to do so day after day on a consistent basis. It sounds harsh, but is true nonetheless…
The liturgical calendar today presents numerous striking examples of holiness, including St Faustina, who receive the visions that are the basis of the Divine Mercy devotion and Blessed Raymond of Capua who was spiritual director to St Catherine of Siena, and also served as Master General of the Dominicans. Both St Faustina and Blessed Raymond lead dramatic lives and are well known. However, today I want to focus on three less well known Blesseds who, in the words of Fr Doyle, took the trouble to strive for holiness in the very diverse and ordinary circumstances of their lives.
Blessed Francis Xavier Seelos was a German Redemptorist missionary in the United States who died in New Orleans in 1867. He was a renowned healer even during his life and his spirituality was very similar to that of Fr Doyle. His retreat notes and diaries reveal resolutions to sleep on the floor and engage in other ascetical practices to discipline the will. Like Fr Doyle, he was known for his good humour and cheerfulness. Here is a short excerpt from one of his letters:
Every offering has value only insofar as one snatches it away from one’s own benefit dedicates it to God through this self-conquest. One loves and gives precisely because one loves, and because one considers what is given as a good, as a treasure. Love of creatures must be subordinated to the love of God, whom one is pledged to love above all things. Time, in which we have found nothing to offer up to God, is lost for eternity. If it is only the duties of our vocation that we fulfil with dedication to the will of God; if it is the sweat of our faces that, in resignation, we wipe from our brow without murmuring; if it is suffering, temptations, difficulties with our fellow men – everything we can present to God as an offering and can, through them, become like Jesus his Son.
Blessed Alberto Marvelli was a remarkable Italian layman who was killed in an accident on this day in 1946. He modelled himself on Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, giving away his clothing, opening a soup kitchen and assisting the poor and homeless in the city of Rimini which had largely been destroyed by bombing raids in the Second World War. He was an engineer who used his professional competence to help rebuild the city. His intense works of charity were nourished by a deep spiritual life. He was also fully engaged in political life, was a local town councillor and was a renowned opponent of the communists. He was fighting an election against communists when he was killed in an accident, aged only 28. There are several books about him published in Italian, along with his spiritual diaries. Alas, I cannot speak the language – I would very much like to read them…
Our third example today is Blessed Bartolo Longo, who had a complete transformation in life. He got caught up in the occult when he was young and became a satanic priest. He experienced a conversion, and became a renowned apostle of the rosary, a Third Order Dominican, a founder of several charitable works and established the famous shrine of Our Lady of Pompeii. He died in 1926. His example shows that nobody is too far gone to be saved by God’s Divine Mercy.
A missionary priest, a young, politically engaged layman and a former satanic priest: the examples we find in today’s diverse feasts show us that anyone from any background can be a saint. As Fr Doyle says to us today:
Why aren’t you (a saint)? It is your business to be one, God intends you should be one, but you are too lazy, you won’t take the trouble.
In the end what once caused us pain and tears becomes the source of great interior joy, since we have realised how these things help in our spiritual progress.
COMMENT: It is true, as Fr Doyle says, that things that were once disagreeable to us can become a source of peace in our lives. We can see this in today’s saint, Francis of Assisi, who, as the son of a rich merchant, had many pleasures available to him but chose to abandon this luxury to embrace a life of extreme poverty and penance. The deprivation that would have caused the young Francis much pain became a source of joy as he matured into great sanctity.
Like St Therese of Lisieux, some aspects of modern piety does a great disservice to Francis. Sanctity is always well balanced. It calls us to love justice and peace AND to hate vice and overcome it; it calls us to respect animals and the environment AND to radical conversion and serious apostolate.
Despite first impressions, there are many similarities between Fr Doyle and St Francis including an ardent love for souls, a desire to go on the missions, an openness to martyrdom, great asceticism and a passionate love for Christ.
One of the pivotal moments of St Francis’ life was when he heard Christ calling to him to rebuild the Church which was falling into ruin. The Church faces the possibility of ruin in every age, often stemming from the compromises and unfaithfulness of Her members. St Francis’ remedy was the hard and heroic route of personal reform. His example changed the face of the earth and bequeathed numerous saints to the Church.
The path for the renewal of the Church today is exactly the same – real personal renewal which will allow us to preach the Gospel constantly, but by our example rather than by words, as Francis urged his followers.
I cannot deny that I love Jesus, love Him passionately, love Him with every fibre of my heart. He knows it, too, since He has asked me to do many things for Him, which have cost me more than I should like to say, yet which with His grace were sweet and easy in a sense. He knows that my longing, at least, even if the strength and courage are wanting, is to do and suffer much more for Him, and that were He tomorrow to ask for the sacrifice of every living friend, I would not refuse Him. Yet with all that, with the intense longing to make Him known and loved, I have never yet been able to speak of Him to others as I want to.
COMMENT: The intense love of Christ was a central aspect of the spirit of Fr Doyle. The centrality of Christ was also central to another Irishman whose feast we celebrate today.
Blessed Columba Marmion was born in Dublin and was a priest of the Dublin diocese, acting as a seminary professor, chaplain to the Redemptoristine Convent in Drumcondra and as a curate in the parish of Dundrum in the south of Dublin. However, he felt the call to the monastic life and entered the Benedictine monastery of Maredsous in Belgium, ending up as abbot. He was a renowned spiritual writer and spiritual director. The love of Christ, and our divine adoption as children of God were central to his teaching and spirituality. He emphasised that Christ must be central to our spiritual life, and that holiness ultimately comes about through God’s grace acting in the soul. Our job is to dispose ourselves to receive that grace. His formula for growth in holiness, based on the writings of St Paul, is that we must die to sin, and then live for God – the more we remove the roots of sin from our soul, the greater the liberty God will have to work there.
As he wrote in his classic book Christ in His Mysteries:
It is, then, upon Christ that all our gaze ought to be concentrated. Open the Gospel: you will there see that three times only does the Eternal Father cause His Voice to be heard by the world. And what does this Divine Voice say to us? Each time the Eternal Father tells us to contemplate His Son, to listen to Him, that He may be thereby glorified: “This is my beloved Son in Whom I am well pleased. Hear ye Him”. All that the Father asks of us is to contemplate Jesus, His Son, to listen to Him, so as to love and imitate Him, because Jesus, Being His Son, is equally God.
Like Fr Doyle, Blessed Columba suffered greatly in the First World War. He was concerned that his monks would be called up for the war effort, so he placed them in other monasteries, and travelled extensively during the war years to raise funds to support his monks in Belgium. During this period he was disguised as a cattle dealer – on one occasion he turned up in this disguise at Tyburn Convent in London where he was well known, but he was initially turned away because they didn’t recognise him in his disguise. He had no papers or passport during these dangerous travels. When trying to cross the border into England, he was challenged for not having a passport. He responded by saying: “I’m Irish, and the Irish need no passport, except to get into hell, and it’s not to hell that I’m going!” He was then allowed to enter England without the necessary papers!
During this period, he commented on his sufferings in a letter:
I have seldom suffered more in every way, than for some time past. I feel we have to take our part in the general expiation which is being offered to God’s justice and sanctity. My soul, my body, my senses, God Himself, all things seem combine to make me suffer. May His holy name be blessed.
Very few Irish people who were not martyred have been beatified or canonised since the Council of Trent, despite many excellent candidates, of which both Columba Marmion and Fr Doyle surely stand in the first rank.
Let us continue to pray and work that more Irish examples of holiness may be recognised in order to act as positive examples for the much needed renewal of this country.
He hath given His angels charge over us, to guide us, to guard and shelter us from dangers, to lead us safely through this world of sin and bring us to the throne prepared for us in heaven. Ever beside us our faithful angel stays. We heed him not; his spotless purity, his majestic dignity, checks us not in our career of sin; but could we see our guardian spirit when passion urges us on, the sight would check our downward path.
COMMENT: Today is the feast of the Guardian Angels. Fr Doyle had a lively sense of his angel’s closeness. Commenting on an outdoor Mass at the Front in a letter home to his father he said:
I had never celebrated Mass in the open before, and I think the men were as much impressed as I was. It was a glorious morning with just a sufficient spice of danger to give the necessary warlike touch to the picture by the presence of a German aeroplane scouting near at hand. I was a wee bit anxious lest a bomb might come down in the middle of the men, but I fancy our unwelcome visitor had quite enough to do, dodging the shells from our guns which kept booming all during Mass; besides I felt confident that for once our guardian angels would do their duty and protect us all till Mass was over.
And on another occasion he comments on the danger he faced when burying a dead soldier in a dangerous spot at night:
As soon as it was dark we carried the poor fellow out on a stretcher, just as he had fallen, and as quietly as we could began to dig the grave. It was weird. We were standing in front of the German trenches on two sides, though a fair distance away, and every now and then a star-shell went up which we felt certain would reveal our presence to the enemy. I put my ritual in the bottom of my hat and with the aid of an electric torch read the burial service, while the men screened the light with their caps, for a single flash would have turned the machine guns on us. I cannot say if we were seen or not, but all the time bullets came whizzing by, though more than likely stray ones and not aimed at us. Once I had to get the men to lie down as things were rather warm (dangerous); but somehow I felt quite safe, as if the dead soldiers guardian angel was sheltering us from all danger, till the poor dust was laid to rest. It was my first war burial though assuredly not my last. May God rest his soul and comfort those left to mourn him.
And here Fr Doyle recounts how he felt that his guardian angel helped save him from a poison gas attack:
I saw both right and left of where I stood the green wave of a second gas attack rolling towards me like some huge spectre stretching out its ghostly arms. As I saw it coming, my heart went out to God in one fervent act of gratitude for His goodness to me. As probably you know we all carry smoke helmets slung over our shoulders in a case, to be used against a gas attack. That morning as I was leaving my dugout I threw my helmet aside. I had a fairly long walk before me, the helmet is a bit heavy on a hot day, and as I said, German gas was most unlikely. So I made up my mind to leave it behind. In view of what happened, it may appear imagination now, but a voice seemed to whisper loudly in my ear: “Take your helmet with you; don t leave without it”. I turned back and slung it over my shoulder. Surely it was the warning voice of my guardian angel, for if I had not done so, you would never have had this letter.
Later on, recounting the above close escape, he further noted: “Some invisible, almost physical, force turned me back to get my helmet”.
Sadly many people seem to have fallen into the error of believing that angels are a nice fantasy for children. We imagine them to the soft, fluffy and harmless little creatures. But the Church is very clear on the presence of the angels. And they are far from fluffy and harmless – they far surpass us in their intelligence, insight, devotion and strength.
Devotion to the guardian angels is not unique to Fr Doyle; many saints and holy people had a similar devotion and felt that they were saved from danger by their intervention.
St Josemaria Escriva had great devotion to his guardian angel and felt that he was saved from physical danger on several occasion by his intervention. In fact he had a hidden pious practice whereby he would pause before passing through a door to allow his angel to pass ahead of him. Of course the angels are outside of time and space, but the gesture was a way of calling the presence of the angels to mind. He gave people this advice about their angel:
Have confidence in your guardian Angel. Treat him as a lifelong friend — that is what he is — and he will render you a thousand services in the ordinary affairs of each day.
St Pio of Pietrelcina had a lively devotion to his angel who provided many favours for him throughout this life; a similar tenderness and relationship can be found between St Gemma Galgani and her angel. St Francis de Sales greeted the angel of each town he passed through and gave this advice:
Seek to be familiar with the Angels; learn to realise that they are continually present, although invisible. Specially love and revere the Guardian Angel of the Diocese in which you live, those of the friends who surround you, and your own. Commune with them frequently, join in their songs of praise, and seek their protection and help in all you do, spiritual or temporal.
The missionary Bishop Alain-Marie de Boismenu, who did much heroic work in New Guinea and who died in 1953 had this to say of the angels:
By nature equal to the demons, the Holy Angels have the advantage of grace. They expose the adversary’s ruses and schemes. None of the dangers that confront us escapes their notice. They remove them, sometimes instantaneously. They always warn us about them, and if we wish, powerfully help us to confront them, calming our passions, enlightening our intelligence, strengthening our will, and uniting themselves with us to obtain an increase in grace and strength. Happy to serve God by serving us, their service is a service of love. For our dear Angels love us with a friendship that goes beyond our dreams. Knowing precisely the price paid for our souls, they desire their salvation more passionately than Satan desires their loss…Ah! If our faith were more simple, and we had a more lively sense of the presence of our angels, of their love, of the value of their services! If we were more attentive to their inspirations, more ready to call on them and more confident of their help, what a strength for ourselves and for our ministry!
While some dismiss the existence of the angels the opposing distortion about angels involves strange, New Age superstitions about them. May we all learn an authentic devotion to the angels from the example of Fr Doyle and from the saints.
Kneeling at the grave of the Little Flower I gave myself into her hands to guide and to make me a saint. I promised her to make it the rule of my whole life, every day without exception, to seek in all things my greater mortification, to give all and to refuse nothing. I have made this resolution with great confidence because I realise how utterly it is beyond my strength; but I feel the Little Flower will get me grace to keep it perfectly.
COMMENT: As can be seen from this quote, Fr Doyle had a great devotion to St Therese, whose feast we celebrate today. This devotion may have been heightened by the fact that they were born in the same year, 1873. It can come as a shock to see others younger than us who, already having died, are plainly seen to have lived lives of great holiness. It is a reminder to us that holiness is not the preserve of the old or something that we should set our minds to some day in the future. It is the task we are to achieve today, now!
Modern piety has tended to greatly distort the image of St Therese, presenting her in a rather sentimental manner. Perhaps her own nickname, as the Little Flower, is partly to blame. The reality is that St Therese was a tough spiritual warrior who faced many problems and sufferings, including a dreadful spiritual blackness. Her Little Way is anything but simple or “little” – her way of abandonment and trust and simplicity and acceptance of daily crosses is open to all, but it takes much effort and holiness to persevere in this, even for one day!
There are many similarities between Therese and Fr Doyle, especially when it comes to embracing our daily duties, the life of spiritual childhood and the spirit of mortification.
Consider, for example, the following quotes from Therese:
Above all I endeavoured to practise little hidden acts of virtue; thus I took pleasure in folding the mantles forgotten by the Sisters, and I sought for every possible occasion of helping them. One of God’s gifts was a great attraction towards penance, but I was not permitted to satisfy it; the only mortification allowed me consisted in mortifying my self-love, and this did me far more good than bodily penance would have done.
When someone knocks at our door, or when we are rung for, we must practise mortification and refrain from doing even another stitch before answering. I have practised this myself, and I assure you that it is a source of peace.
And here are some comments from one of her sisters in Carmel on St Therese’s spirit of penance:
Thus in many pretty ways she hid her mortifications. One fast-day, however, when our Reverend Mother ordered her some special food, I found her seasoning it with wormwood because it was too much to her taste. On another occasion I saw her drinking very slowly a most unpleasant medicine. “Make haste,” I said, “drink it off at once!” “Oh, no!” she answered; “must I not profit of these small opportunities for penance since the greater ones are forbidden me?”
Toward the end of her life I learned that, during her noviciate, one of our Sisters, when fastening the scapular for her, ran the large pin through her shoulder, and for hours she bore the pain with joy. On another occasion she gave me proof of her interior mortification. I had received a most interesting letter which was read aloud at recreation, during her absence. In the evening she expressed the wish to read it, and I gave it to her. Later on, when she returned it, I begged her to tell me what she thought of one of the points of the letter which I knew ought to have charmed her. She seemed rather confused, and after a pause she answered: “God asked of me the sacrifice of this letter because of the eagerness I displayed the other day . . . so I have not read it.”
This spirit of simple daily penance is reflected in the life of Fr Doyle. Here is a quote from him on embracing our daily duties, followed by some commentary from O’Rahilly’s biography:
“What is it to be a saint? Does it mean that we must macerate this flesh of ours with cruel austerities, such as we read of in the life-story of some of God s great heroes? Does it mean the bloody scourge, the painful vigil and sleepless night, that crucifying of the flesh in even its most innocent enjoyment? No, no, the hand of God does not lead us all by that stern path of awful heroism to our reward above. He does not ask from all of us the holy thirst for suffering, in its highest form, of a Teresa or a Catherine of Siena. But sweetly and gently would He lead us along the way of holiness by our constant unswerving faithfulness to our duty, duty accepted, duty done for His dear sake. How many alas! who might be saints are now leading lives of indifferent virtue, because they have deluded themselves with the thought that they have no strength to bear the holy follies of the saints. How many a fair flower of innocence, which God had destined to bloom in dazzling holiness, has faded and withered beneath the chill blast of a fear of suffering never asked from it.” (April, 1905.)
Words such as these, coming from the pen of one who was not unfamiliar with scourge and vigil and fast, are helpful and consoling. Not that they picture the path of holiness as other than the royal road of the cross. Fr. Doyle wished rather to remove the mirage of an unreal and impossible cross from the way of those of us whose true holiness is to be found in meeting the daily and hourly little crosses, humanly inglorious perhaps, but divinely destined for our sanctification. In the lives of canonised saints, and of him whose life we are recording, there are doubtless holy follies and grace-inspired imprudences. But these are not the essence of sanctity; they are its bloom, whereas its stem is self-conquest. Without these there can be great holiness – no terrifying penances marked the life of St. John Berchmans or of that winsome fragile nun who is known as the Little Flower. But without the slow secret mortification of doing ordinary and mostly trivial duties well, there can be no spiritual advance. Heroism is not a sudden romantic achievement; it is the fruit of years of humdrum faithfulness.
Today is also the anniversary of the death of Venerable Tomás Morales SJ who, as well as being a Jesuit, had a great affection for the Carmelites and for St Therese. Here is a quote from his writings which is relevant for our considerations today.
Fight always, even though you don’t feel like it, even though your mood may be different. Remember what St Therese said: “Where would our merit be if we only fought when we felt like it”.