On the Nature of Temptations, and on the Difference between Feeling Temptation and Consenting to It.
Imagine, Philothea, a young princess exceedingly beloved by her husband, whose fidelity some libertine seeks to corrupt through an infamous confidant whom he sends to her to treat with her concerning so detestable a design. First, this messenger makes known to the princess his master’s intentions; secondly, the princess is pleased or displeased by the proposal; thirdly, she either consents or refuses. Thus Satan, the world, and the flesh, seeing a soul united to the Son of God, send it temptations and suggestions, by which, 1.º sin is proposed to it; 2.º the soul is pleased or displeased by the proposal; 3.º finally, it consents or refuses; which, in sum, makes three degrees by which to descend into iniquity: temptation, delight, and consent; and although these three degrees do not appear so clearly in every kind of fault, yet they are always seen very distinctly in great and heinous sins.
If the temptation to any sin whatsoever were to last throughout our whole life, it could not make us displeasing to the divine Majesty, provided that it does not please us, and that we do not consent to it. The reason is that, in temptation, we are not active, but passive; and since we take no pleasure in it, we can have no fault in it either. Saint Paul suffered violent temptations for a long time, and so far from being displeasing to God on that account, God was glorified by them. Blessed Angela of Foligno felt temptations so cruel that one pities her when she recounts them: great also were the temptations of Saint Francis and Saint Benedict, when the one threw himself into the thorns, and the other into the snow, to quell them; and nevertheless they lost none of God’s grace on that account, but greatly increased it.
Imagine, Philothea, a young princess exceedingly beloved by her husband, whose fidelity some libertine seeks to corrupt through an infamous confidant whom he sends to her to treat with her concerning so detestable a design. First, this messenger makes known to the princess his master’s intentions; secondly, the princess is pleased or displeased by the proposal; thirdly, she either consents or refuses. Thus Satan, the world, and the flesh, seeing a soul united to the Son of God, send it temptations and suggestions, by which, 1.º sin is proposed to it; 2.º the soul is pleased or displeased by the proposal; 3.º finally, it consents or refuses; which, in sum, makes three degrees by which to descend into iniquity: temptation, delight, and consent; and although these three degrees do not appear so clearly in every kind of fault, yet they are always seen very distinctly in great and heinous sins.
If the temptation to any sin whatsoever were to last throughout our whole life, it could not make us displeasing to the divine Majesty, provided that it does not please us, and that we do not consent to it. The reason is that, in temptation, we are not active, but passive; and since we take no pleasure in it, we can have no fault in it either. Saint Paul suffered violent temptations for a long time, and so far from being displeasing to God on that account, God was glorified by them. Blessed Angela of Foligno felt temptations so cruel that one pities her when she recounts them: great also were the temptations of Saint Francis and Saint Benedict, when the one threw himself into the thorns, and the other into the snow, to quell them; and nevertheless they lost none of God’s grace on that account, but greatly increased it.
You must therefore be courageous in temptations, dear Philothea, and never consider yourself vanquished so long as they displease you; for mark well the difference between feeling and consenting: we may feel them even though they displease us, but we cannot consent to them without their pleasing us, since pleasure ordinarily serves as a step toward consent. Let the enemies of our salvation therefore offer us as many baits and snares as they will, let them remain ever at the door of our heart, seeking to enter, let them make us every imaginable proposal; so long as we are resolved to take no pleasure in any of this, it will be quite impossible for God to be offended thereby, just as the prince of whom I spoke above cannot take offence at the message sent to the princess, if she took no kind of pleasure in it. There is, nevertheless, this difference between the soul and the princess: after hearing the proposal, the princess may, if she so pleases, dismiss the messenger and hear him no more; whereas it is not always within the soul’s power not to feel the temptation, though it is always within its power not to consent to it. Therefore, though the temptation last a long time, it cannot harm us so long as it is displeasing to us.
But, as to the delight that may follow temptation, it is to be observed that we have two parts in our soul, one inferior and the other superior, and that the inferior does not always follow the superior, but performs operations of its own: whence it often happens that the inferior part takes pleasure in the temptation, without the consent, and even against the will, of the superior: this is the strife and warfare which the Apostle Saint Paul describes, when he says that his flesh lusteth against his spirit, that there is a law of the members and a law of the spirit, and other such things.
Have you ever seen, Philothea, a great fire covered with ashes? When one comes ten or twelve hours later to seek fire there, one finds only a little in the middle of the hearth, and even that is hard to find. Yet it was there, since one finds it there, and one can use it to rekindle the other embers already extinguished. The same is true of charity, which is our spiritual life, amid great and violent temptations; for temptation, casting its delight into the inferior part, seems to cover the whole soul with ashes, and to reduce the love of God to almost nothing; for it no longer appears anywhere, save in the midst of the heart, and in the very depths of the spirit; and even there it seems not to be, so hard is it to find. Yet it is truly there, since, though all is in turmoil in our soul and body, we are resolved not to consent to sin or to temptation, and the delight which pleases our outward man displeases our inward man; so that, although it is around our will, it is nevertheless not in our will; whereby it is seen that such delight is involuntary, and therefore cannot be sin.
Have you ever seen, Philothea, a great fire covered with ashes? When one comes ten or twelve hours later to seek fire there, one finds only a little in the middle of the hearth, and even that is hard to find. Yet it was there, since one finds it there, and one can use it to rekindle the other embers already extinguished. The same is true of charity, which is our spiritual life, amid great and violent temptations; for temptation, casting its delight into the inferior part, seems to cover the whole soul with ashes, and to reduce the love of God to almost nothing; for it no longer appears anywhere, save in the midst of the heart, and in the very depths of the spirit; and even there it seems not to be, so hard is it to find. Yet it is truly there, since, though all is in turmoil in our soul and body, we are resolved not to consent to sin or to temptation, and the delight which pleases our outward man displeases our inward man; so that, although it is around our will, it is nevertheless not in our will; whereby it is seen that such delight is involuntary, and therefore cannot be sin.