(Read my other posts on Introduction to the Devout Life by following links here.)
Introduction to the Devout Life may be read online here. Link goes to table of contents.
But if you are willing to purchase a physical book, and believe me this work is worth it because it's the sort of thing you might want to carry around with you, my recommended translation is that of Fr. Michael Day. Look for it as a used book.
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When the year comes around to the end of January, close to St. Francis de Sales's feast day, I like to go through the method of "annual renewal and preservation of devotion" that he lays out in Introduction to the Devout Life.
A little ways into the method there's a fairly detailed, fairly general examination of conscience. In fact, St. Francis offers two different forms of examination of conscience, a long form in V.3-6 and a shorter form in V.7; I'm considering the longer form, which he suggests doing in pieces over the course of one or two days.
It's quite reasonably structured, and might work well as a day-to-day examination of conscience as well: it is divided into instructions on how to make the examination, then considerations of one's behavior towards God, towards self, and towards neighbor.
Despite this relatively ordinary form, it's a somewhat unusual examination of conscience. It's not a simple accounting of sins, for the purpose of making a good regular confession. Nor is it an overview of one's faults, temptations, inclinations, and bad habits, as one does before making a general confession (you know, the type that often requires one to make an appointment and block off an hour). It's the medium-perspective E. O. C., with an object that is hardly penitential and accusatory.
Rather, it's celebratory, serene, and motivating. Look at the language:
- Protest [to God] that you wish to note your progress, not for your own satisfaction but to rejoice in it for God's sake;
- not for your own glory but for his, that you may thank him.
- Protest also, if you seem to have made little progress or even fallen back, that you will not give way to discouragement and become faint-hearted and lukewarm,
- but on the contrary that you will stir yourself to greater efforts, humble yourself and strive with God's grace to remedy your defects.
- Having done this, consider calmly and peacefully how you have behaved up to the present towards God, your neighbour and yourself.
I want to pull out specifically a subsection from V.5, "Your Behavior Towards Yourself." This is the very essence of self-care, now and circa 1609:
3. What sort of love have you for your heart? With what care do you seek to cure it in its infirmities? It is your duty to do all you can for it when it is tormented by passions and to lay all else aside to bring it relief.
Now, the precise definition of "heart" here matters. I took some time to search for other occurrences of the term "heart" in the book, working with an English translation (one of these days I'll attack the French, but I haven't cracked my copy yet).
In my opinion, what St. Francis de Sales means by "heart" is the seat of affections, inclinations, attachments, and emotions. It's not, to him, the only part of the self, but a component that's closely linked to the body and to relationships both human and divine.
I love St. Francis de Sales's tender regard for the human self, not a kind of disappearance of the self in favor of the divine, but recognizing the value of the human person as a creature that can be taken up to participate in the divine.
Amy Welborn wrote about this on the feast day, last week, and it's really closely related:
In an empty, meaningless universe, if we can start there – you matter – well,that’s where we have to start. It may strike me as solipsistic and goopy, but if you have been formed to believe that your life means whatever you want which means, in essence your life means nothing – to learn that: your life has happened because the Creator of the Universe wants it to…
….is, indeed, transformative.
But here we are, back with St. Francis de Sales. And he won’t let you rest there. He won’t let you rest with I’m okay, I’m loved, I’m here for a reason, I have amazing gifts and talents.
Nope.
Traditional Catholic spirituality – as expressed by today’s saint – is not about resting on our laurels and delighting in our unique gifts and talents. It’s about honestly looking at ourselves, seeing what trash we’ve allowed in, and sucking it up, embracing hard discipline, and moving forward.
We post-Vatican II babies were raised to look back at this type of spirituality and shudder: Scrupulosity! God loves you just as you are!
The basic difference has been:
- Salvation = understanding and accepting that God made you and loves you as you are
- Salvation = cooperating with the grace of God to restore the you he made.
And this is why St. Francis de Sales is so wonderful. He bridges this gap, he is realistic on every score, reminding us that we are not perfect and that we should be striving for perfection, but warning us against unrealistic expectations as well...
I think I'd like to add that really, this vision of the human person and their relationship to God can be totally sufficient for conversion of people in 2019 -- as long as we remember that it's not just ourselves for which we bridge this gap.
- We need to accept that other people, our neighbors, aren't perfect, but that they're not hopeless either, they're capable of striving for perfection, and it's appropriate to their dignity that we mentor those in our care to do so.
- We must be warned against unrealistic expectations of those other human persons as well.
- God made our neighbor, and loves our neighbor as they are. Really!
- Our neighbor is capable, is wanted, cooperating with God to restore the one he made.
And if you read into St. Francis you'll see that there's constantly this tenderness (and realism) about the soul's relationship with other human beings.
I keep telling people that it's ahead of its time. It feels like a modern book. This is why I prefer the most contemporary-sounding language possible in the translation; anything with a scent of antiquity about it tends to obscure the frank and clear voice, the way a black-and-white photograph feels more distant from us than one in color. It's the best manual I've found so far, at least for myself, because (I think) it was truly written, four hundred and some years ago, for someone like me.
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