On Generosity

There are two kinds of generosity, one which is natural, the other which is supernatural: both come from God; and the first kind of generosity disposes us for the second. To enter upon the way of perfection, to walk in it and to persevere in it to the end, we have need of a great foundation of generosity, because this way is only one continued series of sacrifices, each one greater and more difficult than those that went before. Thus, all the souls whom God destines to great sanctity have in themselves a certain nobility of thought and feeling which raises them above the things of this earth, and at the same time a certain tenderness of heart which makes them deeply sensible of the sufferings of others, so that they gladly deprive themselves of what they have to succour those who are in need. Now, it is from the union of these two beautiful natural qualities, elevation of thought and feeling and tenderness of heart, that true generosity springs. A soul that is low and earthly, and wrapped up in the things of this world, a soul that is hard and insensible to the sufferings of others, can seldom be generous; it may practise devotion in the spirit of self-interest and to ensure its salvation, but naturally it will always be mean and narrow, will give to God the very least it possibly can, and will never have the slightest conception of the great sacrifices which God asks of His saints. But although natural generosity disposes us for supernatural generosity, the two things are very different, whether we consider them by themselves or in their motives.

Natural generosity scarcely consists in anything more than giving to others a part of what we have; instead of which supernatural generosity makes us give to God not only all that we have, but all that we are. It carries us on to sacrifice to Him our mind, our will, our liberty, our health, our life, our reputation to consent, in fact, to the total destruction of our own individuality and of all that belongs to us, and in which our dearest interests are concerned.

Now it is easy, says Saint Gregory, to give up what we have, but it is exceedingly difficult to give up what we are, and to renounce ourselves; and without the most special grace from God, and without the greatest efforts of generosity on our part, we shall never do it. We think we have done everything when, in certain moments of fervour and sensible devotion, we have given ourselves to God with all our heart, and have protested to Him that we are ready to pass through any trial, to suffer everything, to sacrifice everything, for the love of Him. But this is only a sacrifice in intention and preparation; the real sacrifice is quite another thing.

When God wishes to lead us by the way of real sacrifice, He generally begins by taking away from us all sensible fervour; He permits all kinds of repugnances, of rebellion of nature, and a general upheaval of self-love. It is then that we feel an inexpressible opposition and aversion to all that God asks of us, a violent interior combat which reduces the soul to a sort of agony. We desire that the chalice of bitterness may pass from us; we beg of God that it may do so: in fact, nature rebels with all her strength against her destruction. But at the same time our will, sustained by Divine grace in a manner that is very powerful, although it is imperceptible to us, our will remains unshaken in its submission; it receives the blows and feels all the weight of them, but it bears them with courage, and is not cast down.

Sometimes, at the moment when the blow first falls, the soul is in peace, strong and contented; but immediately afterwards trouble seizes her, the imagination begins to work, self-love awakes; and all these interior agitations weary the soul, leave her no rest, and only cease after a longer or shorter period, as long as it may please God to make the trial and the battle continue. This trial will come back again and again, until the soul is perfectly dead to the particular k object which was the cause of the agitation. Then God passes on to another trial, and so on from sacrifice to sacrifice until the end.

But why does God permit these repugnances and these results, either before or after the sacrifice? For several reasons worthy of His infinite wisdom. First, to teach the soul to know herself, to understand how bad she is, how opposed to all that is good, how incapable of the least effort of generosity, and in this way to keep her in a profound humility; for she would be tempted to take credit to herself, and to attribute her sacrifice to her own strength, if God did not make her feel all the difficulty of it. Secondly, she learns by this to know better the value of grace, and how necessary it is for her to trust only in God, since she can find no strength, no support in herself. Thirdly, the more resistance she feels in herself, the more obstacles she has to overcome, the greater also will be her merit; the longer the combat lasts, the more complete will be the victory; the more nature is destroyed, the more God will be glorified and the devil put to confusion, and the more experience and skill will the soul acquire in the secrets of the interior life.

As all our generosity comes from God, He hides the knowledge of it from us for fear we should deprive Him of the glory which belongs to Him alone.

From the little I have just said it is easy to judge how great is the difference between natural generosity and supernatural generosity, and that the supernatural is exercised upon objects much more interesting to us, and also is incomparably more difficult and painful for us, than the other. They do not differ less in their motives. There is always a good deal of self-love, and even a great deal, in the exercise of natural generosity. It is often mixed with self-interest, with vanity, and pride; we think ourselves superior to those whom we oblige; we take credit to ourselves for a nobility of feeling which raises us above the common herd of mankind; we are delighted with the praises bestowed upon us; we praise ourselves, and enjoy complacently a certain interior satisfaction.

Not one of these motives can sully the exercise of supernatural generosity. Self-love can find no nourishment there, for it is against self-love and at its expense that this kind of generosity is exercised. Our own interest has no place there, for this generosity leads us to sacrifice it entirely to God's interest. Our victories cost us so dear, and are so painful to us, that we are not exposed to the danger of being vain of them. Our interior and exterior humiliations protect us from pride and from the praise of men. Everything here is for God, and only for God; and this it is which gives to this generosity a character so sublime and Divine, that we see at once it can be nothing else but the work of Divine grace.

When it pleases God to require great sacrifices of a soul, He will give her a proportionate generosity, He will enlarge her heart, He will elevate her sentiments; He will give her the highest possible idea of what His rights are, and will make her see that all she can do for Him is nothing, and less than nothing; that it is pure goodness on His part to be willing to accept of the little she can offer Him; that all the glory which the voluntary annihilation of all His creatures could procure to Him, would add nothing to His greatness and His felicity; and finally, that He does us an inestimable honour when He deigns to accept our offerings and our sacrifices.

When a soul is once penetrated with these ideas, she sees clearly that up to this time she has done nothing for God; she conceives an immense desire of devoting herself entirely to Him; and because all she could do and suffer for His infinite Majesty would not be worthy of Him, she begs of Him to glorify Himself through her in any manner which may please Him, and she gives herself up entirely to Him for this purpose. From that moment her heart opens, and, as much as a little creature is capable of such a thing, she becomes fit for the greatness of the designs of God. The yoke of the commandments, and even of the counsels, which seems so heavy and so burdensome to ordinary Christians, becomes to her light and sweet; she is astonished that God asks so little of her; she would like to do a thousand times more for the love of Him. This is what David experienced when he said, "I will run the way of Thy commandments, when Thou hast set my heart at liberty." Before that he walked with difficulty and effort, he found the way too hard and too narrow, because his heart was narrow and ungenerous. Now that God, by taking possession of his heart, has communicated to it something of His own immensity, he walks no longer; he runs, he flies no difficulty, no obstacle, can stop him.

It is only too true that in the service of God everything depends upon the disposition of our hearts, and that what appears a great deal to a soul that is mean and concentrated on itself is nothing at all to a generous soul who has come out of herself to lose herself in God. Let us then continually ask of God for this generosity. Let us beg of Him never to allow us to measure what we owe to Him by our own narrow and finite ideas, but to raise us up to His own ideas of Himself, and to teach us to serve Him as God ought to be served. To serve God as God! Oh! what a magnificent thought! But the execution of it is infinitely beyond us. There is only one way of accomplishing this service, and that is to offer ourselves to God, that He may dispose of us absolutely; that He may strip us of our own spirit and clothe us with His; that He may give us a heart according to His own heart. Let us ask this incessantly, and to deserve an answer, upon which depends the greater glory of God, and our own perfection, let us observe our inviolable fidelity to every movement of Divine grace. The less we are conducted according to our own views, the more we are conducted according to the designs of God; for there is no more proportion between the ideas of God, as to what constitutes holiness, and ours, than there is between His Divine nature and our nature; and as long as we are only generous in our own way we are not so in His way.

- taken from Manual for Interior Souls, by Father Jean Nicolas Grou