There are virtues that are of so strong and independent a nature that they seem able to stand alone and to live on when everything else in the soul that is noble has died. One meets with people sometimes who are corrupt to the heart's core and yet are not wanting in generosity - that one remnant of better days lives on while everything else is gone. Or again, there are people who, while they have lost all the virtues that belong to the gentler side of their nature, and have become hard and bitter and censorious, yet have a very strong and masterful sense of duty; but as we get to know these people better we shall find that while the form of the virtue remains the substance is practically gone, though, so far as it goes, it is good, but it is rather of nature than of grace. The spendthrift generosity of the prodigal is a very different thing from the Christian grace of charity, still it is, so far as it goes, a virtue, and it is often a surprise and a joy to find how long some such virtues will live on amidst the corruption and evil that is around them.
Then, too, there are virtues that never stand alone, they are of so delicate a texture that they need some other virtue to protect them and upon which they may rest. Purity will nearly always grow, resting upon the prop of humility; let humility fail, and purity, like some fading flower, will begin to bend earthwards and to lose its bloom; inward peace twines itself round the strong support of self-oblation; even moral courage that seems so strong and self-reliant, will gain strength and a firmer root in the soul if it grows upon the tender yet unbending support of penitence; let penitence deepen and moral courage will grow so strong that one who is naturally weak will be ready to face every difficulty and danger; let penitence begin to die, and the will that was so strong and brave becomes cowardly.
Thus there are virtues that seem as it were twin sisters and always grow in pairs, the virtue that seems the more robust often depending for its life upon one in appearance far more delicate. They grow in pairs and they die in pairs. When one begins to droop, the other is sure to droop with it, it cannot stand alone. Self-forgetfulness depends upon the practise of the Presence of God. When the soul has gained this hidden grace it will show upon its outer life that other virtue which everyone must see and admire, yet none can tell upon what a very delicate and hidden support it depends for its extraordinary strength; let the Presence of God grow dim within and the presence of self at once presses to the front.
Thus it often happens that the virtue which we most need and desire is not to be cultivated directly, but through some other virtue that at first sight may seem to have little connexion with it, yet as we watch it growing we shall generally find that the other virtue has twined itself round it, or followed close upon it. We scarcely realise how purity is very often best gained, not by a direct struggle for it, but by striving for humility; and as humility grows we shall surely find that it has brought with it the grace of purity, how or why we may not be able to tell. It is impossible to fight directly against self-consciousness. The effort to rid oneself of it by watching against it only roots it more deeply; but as we strive directly to practise the Presence of God, we find it has brought with it its twin sister which will not come without it, and the consciousness of self has melted away in the light of God's Presence.
Again, many vices spring from virtues unbalanced by some other virtue which develops the opposite side of the character. One may, for instance, be all heart and no head, or all head and no heart; if so, the powers, great and noble as they are, that belong to heart or head will fail of producing their proper fruit, for they are unbalanced and one-sided. There are virtues that belong to one side of the character and leave the other untouched, and consequently each needs the other to balance and correct it. All prayer and no action, except in the case of very exceptional vocations, may lead to great self-deceit. All action and no prayer fritters away the powers of the soul.
Thus the virtues that belong to one side of the character need those of the other side to balance them or they cease to be virtues. Consequently the Christian life is always a surprise, for it is ever showing seemingly opposite characteristics. But it will also display what is more beautiful still, single virtues, which are the outcome of the perfect blending of two graces that are seemingly in opposition. The new virtue is the result of these two being blended in perfect proportion; let the proportion be destroyed and the virtue itself is destroyed.
The virtue of Christian patience is the outcome of the perfect blending of gentleness and strength; if these two do not mingle in perfect proportion, it ceases to be patience; if gentleness outweighs strength, patience degenerates into weakness; if strength outweighs gentleness, it crystallises into hardness. Firmness is the blending in perfect proportion of strength of will and clearness of moral judgment; if there be not the latter, or in proportion as it is lacking, firmness will degenerate into obstinacy or scrupulosity; if strength of will be not in due proportion, then it is not firmness at all, but passes off into insincerity or even hypocrisy.
But once more, there are virtues which are more comprehensive in their character, they are the condition and support of every other virtue; there are certain Christian graces which, if you have not, you can have none, and which if you have, all others become possible. They represent attitudes of the soul which fit it for the growth of virtue in general.
There are two such especially, without which no one can mature in any Christian grace. One is, as it were, the soil out of which all must grow - charity. Any virtue that has not spread its roots into this, and that does not suck its nourishment from it, is not a Christian grace. 'Though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing; and though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.' (1 Corinthians 13:2,3) Charity is the soil in which alone Christian virtues can grow, it is the condition of all else; though it seems the end, it is the beginning, for there is no virtue where it is not.
And there is another, without which no virtue can mature its growth. Perseverance is not merely the crown and stamp of perfection, it must accompany every step in the growth of every grace; just as the texture of the tree must be woven firm in every stage of its growth, so perseverance has to watch over the growth of each virtue day by day; every day in which it fails, the graces which are under its care begin to droop and lose their bloom.
Thus perseverance is not only a virtue in itself, but it is one without whose constant presence and assistance no other virtue can develop one step in its growth. If charity, then, be the soil into which all must spread their roots, perseverance is the cohesive force that gives form and consistency to all over whose development it presides. And thus temptation will often leave all the graces that the soul is trying to form unassailed, and attack the one grace of perseverance; for it knows well that if it can destroy or weaken this, all else must fail with it. We often meet with people with very high aspirations and the beginnings of many graces and with great possibilities, but nothing in them matures, nothing attains its full bloom, for they are lacking in the one grace which is the guardian and protector of all - they have no perseverance.
Now perseverance having so great a work to do, having to watch over every good thing that the soul would develop, cannot work alone - it has not only to keep everything under its protection, but it must live both in the present and future; it must look forward, but it must not for a moment forget the present. It knows indeed that many a promising virtue has died because its possessor was living in the future and neglecting it in the present, and virtues are too delicate to grow untended for a day; and it knows also that many a virtue has been killed because the soul in which it was trying to grow could not look forward and wait and hope, recognising the law of its organic growth and rejoicing, as it saw the blade, in the thought of the full-grown ear.
Therefore perseverance needs the aid of two fellow-workers: it needs, as it were, eyes with which to look forward, and hands with which to toil. It must keep ever before it the ideal towards which it presses, and it must never cease to work towards that ideal. Perseverance is not a mere dogged plodding on toward an unseen end, it is full of inspiration and enthusiasm; in all its endeavours, therefore, it is assisted by the two fellow-workers, hope and patience.
Natural hope is the spring of all the movement of life, of all activity and progress. Memory links us with the past; hope looks forward, it is almost creative, as, aided by imagination, it lifts the veil from the future. Men are ready to forego the greatest enjoyments in the present in the desire of what hope promises, but in the midst of their plans let hope die, and their hands fall heavily by their side. As we look at the busy world, with all its competitions and sacrifice, and ask what is the spring that sets it in motion, we answer, hope; the manifold powers of heart and mind and will are developed and unfolded under its inspiration.
And it is the same in the spiritual life; hope here receives a new direction; it looks to no earthly end, it looks to heaven; it stimulates men to no mere temporal activities, but to the development of Christian graces, and the preparation for the vision of God; it sees the end already attained, the prize won, and that vision, as it beams brighter and brighter, kindles the soul with ambitions so great that it is prepared, before it has obtained a single grace except this one, to forego everything for this end. Faith looks backward as well as forward, hope only looks forward. Faith embraces in its vision heaven and hell; hope cannot see hell, it cannot contemplate failure, it sees what it aims for as already its possession, and then gathers all its forces to succeed.
Thus perseverance is aided and inspired by hope. And patience, the unwearied worker, plods on enlightened and sustained by hope, never resting, never fainting; while the eyes of hope are resting on the far-off vision of attainment, the hands of patience work steadily on to accomplish its present task. So it was with Peter; our Lord lifted the veil and showed him the future, his end the martyr's death. 'When thou shalt be old, thou shalt stretch forth thy hands, and another shall gird thee, and carry thee whither thou wouldest not. This said He, signifying by what death he should glorify God.' That was what he was to work towards. 'And when He had spoken this, He said unto him, Follow Me.' (John 21:18,19) If that end was to be reached, he must now be following Christ, he must work for it in the present.
Thus that work-a-day, commonplace virtue, perseverance, is full of inspiration. Hope the idealist, patience the practical plodder, co-operate to accomplish her task. As days and years go by, and she goes on steadily and unswervingly with her work, it is not all mere dry, hard plodding; bright dreams burn before her eyes and kindle her heart, she is all on fire within, though she looks so calm and common-place, for Hope ever stands by her side like a prophet to stimulate and inspire. She works like an artist with the model before her eyes and the chisel and hammer in her hands, and like an artist her heart burns within her as she works.
Perseverance, therefore, may fail in one of two ways, either by losing hope or by losing patience. If hope fail, the work will lose all life and inspiration and will become mechanical; if patience, it will never be completed.
Thus some persons go on with their religious duties, their prayers and rule, or whatever it may be they have undertaken, but it can easily be seen, after a time, that there is no heart in what they are doing; it becomes more and more mechanical and lifeless, it does not develop or strengthen the character; it might as well be given up, perhaps it would be better to give it up, for there is no effort to gain anything through what is being done. Hope has died, there is no looking forward to the end, and the hands work heavily.
Others, again, begin with enthusiasm, are borne along for a time by the strength of their enthusiastic impulse, but at the first failure they lose patience and give up. They see the end; the eye of hope is open and kindles the heart, but they cannot endure the failures and delays which come between the vision and its fulfillment. Sometimes they end in becoming mere dreamers, thinking what one day they will do, imagining themselves only held back by circumstances, living a life of dreams with their eyes fixed upon the far-off future and their hands fallen listlessly by their sides, forgetting that the only way to fulfil their hopes is by present effort.
Thus two different kinds of persons will fail of the grace of perseverance in quite different ways.
But how are such elements of failure to be corrected, for they apparently belong to the very character itself? They can only really be corrected through union with Christ. There may be a natural despondency and a supernatural hope, a natural impulsiveness and a supernatural patience. It is necessary for many that they should learn deeply through failure after failure, that 'they have no power of themselves to help themselves,' before they can learn the meaning of these great words, 'I can do all things through Christ who strengtheneth me.' (Philippians 4:13) He who said them had learnt it, for he said again, 'When I am weak, then am I strong.' (2 Corinthians 12:10) He was conscious at the same time of natural weakness and supernatural strength. He had learnt through his own incapacity where to find the power he needed. There is no necessary connexion between a naturally hopeful and bright disposition and the Christian grace of hope; it is not impossible that these may exist in inverse proportion in the same person. Natural hopefulness may not be able to stand out against constant failure in moral and spiritual things. The despair that springs from the sense of one's own weakness, and the breaking down of resolution after resolution, may be the birth-pangs of Christian hope. Only when the soul has suffered much from many physicians and finds itself grow nothing the better, but rather the worse, does it at last come to our Lord. The constant sense of failure, the seeming powerlessness to stand before certain temptations, may be the means of leading one to find a new sense of power. 'All my fresh springs shall be in thee.' (Psalm 87:7) Consequently the power of a sustained and unfailing hopefulness by which perseverance may be gained does not depend upon, is, indeed, altogether independent of natural disposition; it is based upon and grows out of spiritual experience. The soul has learnt that in the moment of weakness Christ can strengthen it; that, in spite of the most rooted habits, it can, in the power of our Lord, withstand old temptations before which once it was powerless. The hope that it has gained is built upon a more sure foundation than any gift of nature; it is built upon the experienced truth of the promises of Christ.
Thus in the life of the soul that goes plodding on and struggling with its faults and temptations there are often to be found two stages: first, failure and discouragement and a loss of interest or joy in what it is doing, and, not unfrequently, the sense of going through one's duties in a mechanical and lifeless way, and then there 'springs up a light for the righteous, and joyful gladness for them who' - in spite of all failure - 'are true of heart;' (Psalm 97:11) and the heart is refreshed and the will invigorated as the eye stretches beyond the present and sees the accomplished end. Divine hope has come, and all is changed.
And it is the same with patience; impulse wears away and things undertaken in the excitement of some strong emotion are left unfinished. The experience of life teaches the soul that the noblest dreams and the highest ideals will not be fulfilled by fitful efforts, however strong and passionate they may be while they last, and that great ambitions do not of themselves make one great. At last it learns that what it needs is the disciplined faithfulness, sustained by rule and principle amidst all the fluctuations of feeling. This it gains in Christ; all the bright dreams of what it hoped to be fade and re-form round another centre, our Lord Himself; and as the soul tries to approach, it finds that it cannot by impulsive efforts, but only by constant and growing habits of mind and action. It learns that in an hour's reaction after some time of spiritual excitement it may lose more than it gained. It learns that they who would know Christ must be strong and patient, and live on through times of coldness and apparent rejection. Thus it learns the lesson of patience and discipline at the feet of Christ, and as it does, it sees, too, how its ideal becomes transformed, and with hopeful patience it fights its way on to its final triumph in Him. Do we not know such men, who go on quietly and steadily fighting their way through difficulty after difficulty, never giving in to the sense of failure that would bid them give up, and never losing sight of their end; who under the inspiration of hope are protected from becoming mechanical, and under the protection of patience are preserved from the discouragements that beset the pathway of progress, and thus beneath the guardianship of perseverance enrich their souls with many virtues that mature and ripen to perfection.
- text taken from Some Principles and Practices of the Spiritual Life, by Father Basil William Maturin