Believe me that the mortification of the senses in seeing, hearing, and speaking, is worth much more than wearing chains or hair-cloth. - Saint Francis de SalesBelieve me that the mortification of the senses in seeing, hearing, and speaking, is worth much more than wearing chains or hair-cloth. - Saint Francis de Sales
It is known of Saint Catherine of Siena that while her family were celebrating the Carnival in their house, she was not willing to join them, protesting that as she had no other love, so she had no other pleasure, but in her Jesus. He then appeared to her in company with the Blessed Virgin and other Saints, and espoused her with so much clearness and certainty, that the Dominicans, by Apostolic Indulgence, celebrate a festival in commemoration of it on the last day of the Carnival.
A very devout penitent of his once confessed to Saint Francis Xavier that she had looked upon a man with more tenderness than was suitable. The Saint closed what he had to say to her with these words: "You are unworthy to have God look upon you, since for the sake of looking upon a man, you do not regard the risk of losing God." This was enough, for, during the rest of her life, she never again turned her eyes toward any man.
The Empress Leonora kept her eyes down, and raised them only when she was welcomed by monks or nuns to their house; she returned their salutations courteously, with a cheerful countenance and a kind smile. When present at the theater, to which she was obliged to go, she rarely glanced at the splendid gathering of the nobility or at the superb scenes which succeeded each other, with views of gardens, forests, and palaces, in perspective. She spent all this time with her mind in Heaven, contemplating the delights of Paradise, and reciting Psalms, which, to avoid notice, she had bound in the same style as the books of the plays, so that she seemed to everyone very attentive to the play, while she was, in reality, enjoying a very different sight. Saint Vincent de Paul practiced continual mortification of the senses, depriving them even of lawful gratifications, and often inflicting on them voluntary sufferings. When he was traveling, instead of allowing his eyes to wander over the country, he usually kept them on his crucifix. When walking in the city, he went with eyes cast down or closed, that he might see God alone. Visiting the palaces of the nobility, he did not look at the tapestry or other beautiful objects, but remained with downcast glance and full of recollection. He practiced the same thing in the churches, never raising his eyes except to behold the Blessed Sacrament, not to look at the decorations, however beautiful they might be. He was never seen to gather flowers in the gardens, or take up anything that was pleasing to the sense of smell; on the contrary, he greatly enjoyed remaining in places where there was an unpleasant odor, such as hospitals and the houses of the sick poor. His tongue he employed only in praise of God and virtue, in opposing vice and in consoling, instructing, and edifying his neighbor. His ears he opened only to discourse which tended to good, for it gave him pain to hear news and worldly talk, and he made every effort to avoid listening to what would delight the hearing without profit to the soul. When a penitent who was somewhat reckless in his speech asked his director for a hair shirt to mortify the flesh, "My son," said the priest, laying his finger upon his lips, "the best hair shirt is to watch carefully all that comes out at this door."
Saint Aloysius Gonzaga was admirable for mortification of the eyes, for it is narrated in his Life that he never looked any woman in the face. After he had served the Empress as page for two years, a report was spread that she was coming into Italy, where he happened to be, and some congratulated him on the prospect of seeing his mistress again. But he replied: "I shall not recognize her except by her voice, for I do not know her face." His rare mortification was well rewarded by God even in his life, for he was never attacked by temptations of the flesh.
- text taken from A Year with the Saints, composed by an unknown Italian, translated by a member of the Order of Mercy; it has the Imprimatur of Archbishop Michael Augustine Corrigan, Archdiocese of New York, New York, 21 January 1891