How Humility Makes Us Love Our Own Abjection.
I go further, Philothea, and say that in all things and everywhere you must love your own abjection. But what does this mean, you ask me: to love one’s own abjection? In Latin, abjection means humility, and humility means abjection; so that when the Blessed Virgin tells us in her divine canticle _that, because the Lord hath regarded the humility of His handmaid, all generations shall call her blessed_, she means that the Lord hath deigned to look favourably upon her abjection, her nothingness, her lowliness, in order to fill her with graces and favours. Nevertheless, there is a difference between the virtue of humility and abjection. For abjection is the smallness, lowliness, and weakness that is in us, without our giving thought to it; but the virtue of humility is the true and voluntary knowledge of our abjection. Now, the highest point of this humility consists not only in willingly acknowledging that one is abject, but also in loving this abjection and taking pleasure in it, not through lack of courage and generosity, but in order to exalt the divine Majesty the more, and to esteem our neighbour much more than ourselves. And it is to this that I exhort you, Philothea; and, to understand it better, know that among the ills we suffer, some are abject and others honourable: many people are quite content with the honourable ones, but almost none will be content with the abject ones. Behold this good hermit, all torn and shivering with cold; everyone honours his worn habit and pities his suffering; but let a poor artisan, a poor gentleman, or a poor young lady be in the same condition, and they are mocked and laughed at: thus poverty is abject. A nun devoutly receives a harsh rebuke from her superior, and a child from his father: everyone will call this mortification, obedience, wisdom; but a cavalier or a lady will suffer as much from someone, and although it be for the love of God, people will say it is baseness and cowardice: here, then, is yet another abject ill. One person has an ulcer on the arm, and another has one on the face; the former has only the ill, but the latter, besides the ill, has contempt, abjection, and disdain. Now, I say that we must not only love the ill, which is done by the virtue of patience, but must also cherish abjection, which is done by the virtue of humility. Moreover, there are abject virtues and honourable virtues. Patience, gentleness, simplicity, and humility itself are virtues which worldly people hold to be base and abject. On the contrary, they esteem prudence, valour, and generosity very highly. There are also actions of one and the same virtue, some of which are despised and others honoured; giving alms and forgiving an offence are two acts of charity: the first is honoured by everyone, while the other, on the contrary, is regarded with contempt. A young gentleman or a young lady who avoids the company of those frivolous people who know only how to talk, play, dance, drink, and adorn themselves, will be the object of sarcasm and mockery, and their restraint will be taken for affectation and bigotry: to love this is to love one’s abjection. Here is another kind: we go to visit the sick; if I am sent to the poorest, that will be an abjection according to the world; therefore I shall love it. If I am sent to the most distinguished, that will be an abjection according to the spirit; for there is not so much virtue and merit in it, and I shall love this abjection too. I fall in the street, and, besides the hurt I do myself, I am also put to shame: this abjection must be loved. There are even faults in which there is no harm, save the abjection that results from them; and humility does not require that we commit them deliberately, but that we not be troubled when we have committed them. Such are certain follies, discourtesies, or awkwardnesses which must be carefully avoided in obedience to civility and prudence; but when they have been done, we must acquiesce in the abjection that comes of them, and accept it willingly, in order to follow holy humility. Moreover, if I have allowed myself, through anger or otherwise, to utter bad words by which God and my neighbour have been offended, I shall deeply repent of this offence, and shall endeavour to repair it as best I can; but I shall nevertheless accept the abjection that comes of it; and if the one could be separated from the other, I would ardently reject the sin and humbly retain the abjection that accompanies it.
But although we love the abjection that proceeds from evil, we must not fail to remedy the evil that caused it, by proper and legitimate means, especially if the evil has serious consequences. If I have an abject affliction on my face, I shall seek a cure for it, but without renouncing the abjection I have received from it. If I have committed a fault that offends no one, I shall not excuse myself for it; for although it is a fault, since it has no consequence other than the shame attached to it, I could excuse myself only to escape the abjection it brings me; and humility does not permit this. But if through carelessness or folly I have offended or scandalized someone, I shall make amends for my fault with some sincere apology, since the harm still remains, and charity obliges me to undo it. Finally, it sometimes happens that charity requires us to remedy abjection for the sake of our neighbor, to whom our reputation is necessary; but in that case, while removing our abjection from before our neighbor’s eyes to prevent him from being scandalized by it, we must keep it close and hide it in our heart, so that he may be edified by it.
If after this you desire to know, Philothea, which are the best abjections, I will tell you plainly that those most profitable to the soul and most pleasing to God are those that come to us by accident, or are attached to our state; because we do not receive them from ourselves, but from the hand of God, Whose choice is always better than ours. But if we had to choose, the greatest are the best; and those are esteemed greatest which are most contrary to our inclinations, provided they conform to our vocation; for, to say it once for all, our own choice and will spoil and diminish almost all our virtues. Ah! who will grant us the grace to be able to say with the Psalmist King: _I have chosen rather to be abject in the house of my God, than to dwell in the tents of sinners!_ None can do so, dear Philothea, save He Who, to raise up our nature, was in His life and in His death the reproach of men and the outcast of the people. In all this I have told you many things that will seem hard to you at first sight; but, believe me, they will be sweeter than sugar and honey when you practise them.