"I FEEL NO ATTRACTION"
Some boys and girls, with hearts of gold, have often said: "I feel no
attraction for the higher life. I appreciate it, admire it, and yet I
fear it is not for me, as I have no inclination to it. If God wanted
me, He would so perceptibly draw me to Him that there could be no
mistaking His designs."
Almighty God is wonderful in His ways, and He "draws all things to
Himself," but by methods varying as the temperaments and
characteristics of the human soul. Sometimes He speaks to His chosen
ones in thunder tones, as when He struck down St. Paul from his horse,
on the road to Damascus, saying from heaven, "Saul, Saul, why
persecutest thou me? . . . It is hard for thee to kick against the
goad." (Acts ix: 4.) Again He speaks in gentle accents, as to St.
Matthew, the publican, when he sat at his door taking customs, saying
to him, "Follow me!" At other times He seems silent and indifferent,
standing quietly by, letting reason and conscience argue within us,
and point out our line of action.
There is what is called vocation by attraction, and also such a thing
as vocation by conviction. Some of the great saints from earliest
childhood felt a strong, irresistible charm in the higher life; they
were drawn by the golden chain of love to the cloister. "I have never
in my life," said a boy, "thought of being anything but a religious."
Some young people have no difficulty in making up their minds to
follow Christ, their whole bent of thought and character being for the
nobler life. Like Stanislaus, they ever say, "I was born for higher
things." It was such a precocious disposition of heart that led St.
Teresa to foreshadow her saintly career when, as a little girl, she
ran away from home to become a hermit.
But feeling is not always a trustworthy guide, either in temporal or
spiritual matters; reason, slow but sure, is generally much safer. You
feel the fascination of worldly things, of company and society, fine
clothes, luxuries and comforts, the dazzling stage of life with its
applause of men. Is that a sign God destines you for worldly vanities?
Quite the contrary, for all Christians are warned against the
seductions of the world and the flesh; and the life of the counsels is
essentially a constant struggle with nature and its allurements. "The
kingdom of heaven," we are told, "suffers violence, and the violent
bear it away."
If the following of Christ were easy and agreeable to the senses,
where would be the merit and reward of it? Just in proportion as it
involves effort and the overcoming of natural repugnance, does it
become high and sublime. "Do not think," says Our Lord (Matt. x: 34),
"that I came to send peace upon earth: I came not to send peace, but
the sword. For I came to set a man at variance with his father, and
the daughter with her mother. . . . He that loveth father or mother
more than me, is not worthy of me."
Natural antipathy then to the higher life, far from indicating that
God does not want us, merely shows that the inferior powers of the
soul are striving against the superior. In fact, when this aversion
becomes pronounced, it is sometimes evidence of a keen strife going on
within us between nature and grace, which could scarcely happen unless
grace were endeavoring to gain the mastery by winning us to Christ.
"But," it may be objected, "if nature rebels, does not God always give
a counter supernatural attraction to those whom He calls, so as to
smooth the way before them?" Certainly God gives the necessary grace
to perform good actions, but grace is not always accompanied by
sensible consolation. Suppose a boy is chided by his parents for a
fault and he is tempted to deny it; but overcoming the suggestion he
admits his wrong-doing and expresses sorrow for it. In this he acts
bravely and with no sense of accompanying satisfaction, since the pain
of his parents' displeasure is so keen as to overcome for the moment
any other feeling. His action is prompted simply by the conviction of
duty.
Accordingly, if a young man knows and clearly sees that he has every
qualification for the religious life, and has even been told so by a
competent adviser; if he has sufficient talent and learning, a steady
disposition and virtuous habits, and the persuasion that the duties of
this state are not above his strength; in short, if he is convinced
that there is no obstacle, save his own will, between him and the
higher life, can he truly say, "I feel no inclination to such a
career, and therefore, I have no vocation"? Such a person, of course,
is free to say, "I will not enter religion," because there is no
obligation incumbent upon him to this state, but he cannot justly say
that God withholds from him the opportunity or invitation to do so. He
has already what is called a remote vocation, as was explained in the
fifth chapter, and what he needs is a clearer vision and alacrity of
will, which he may have good hope of obtaining by earnest prayer and a
generous and insistent offering of self to the disposal of the Divine
good pleasure. For Our Lord Himself tells us: "All things whatsoever
you ask when ye pray, believe that you shall receive, and they shall
come unto you." (Mark xi: 24.)
Remove then, my dear young friend, from your mind that false and
pernicious notion, which has been destructive of so many incipient
vocations, that because you feel no supernatural inclination or
sensible attraction, you are not called of God.
In general, it is sufficient that the aspirant to religious life be
free from impediments, and be desirous of entering it. For eligibility
to a particular religious congregation the applicant must be fit, that
is, he must have the gifts or endowments of mind, heart and body which
that institute demands; his desire to enter must be based on good and
solid motives drawn from reason and faith, and he must have the firm
resolve to persevere in the observance of the rule. When to this
subjective capacity is added the acceptance of the candidate by a
lawful superior, his vocation becomes complete.
The requisites, then, are three, two on the part of the applicant,
namely, fitness and an upright intention, and one on the part of the
superior, the acceptance or call. Nothing more, nothing less is
required. If any one of these three essentials is wanting, there is no
vocation to that particular institute.
It is worthy of observation, however, that these qualifications of the
applicant need be fully evident only towards the end of the novitiate,
when the time comes for taking the vows and assuming the obligations.
To enter the noviceship, as a rule, much less is required, though even
for this preparatory step a person must have the serious intention of
trying the life and discovering whether it is suitable to him, and
there should be a reasonable prospect of his developing the needful
qualifications.
For spiritual directors, then, to regard a vocation as something
exceeding rare and intricate, to subject the candidate and his
conscience to searching and critical analysis, to harassing
cross-examination and prolonged tests, as though he were a criminal
entertaining a fell project, to endeavor to probe into the secret
workings of grace within him, is only to cloud in fatal obscurity an
otherwise very simple subject.
A high-souled youth or maiden may still be deterred by the thought, "I
now see that I have all the necessary qualifications for the higher
life, and hence may embrace it if I choose, but I fear it will be too
difficult for me to carry the yoke without sensible devotion or
consolation." In answer to this, we must remember that a hundredfold
in this world and life everlasting in the next are promised to those
who leave all to follow Christ. In this hundredfold are included many
privileges and favors bestowed by God upon His chosen spouses. Make
the effort, overcome nature, decide to embrace God's offer, and you
will find yourself overwhelmed by a deluge of spiritual consolations,
which God has been withholding from you to try your generosity and
courage; you will experience the truth of Christ's words, "My yoke is
sweet, and my burden light." Sensible consolations, in fact, nearly
always follow the performance of a virtuous act, but seldom do they
precede it. A hungry person, before sitting down to table, may feel
cross and out of humor, but as soon as he begins to partake of the
generous viands a feeling of genial content and satisfaction with all
the world steals over him.
It would, of course, be an error for any one to think that of his own
natural powers he could observe the counsels; since this, being a
supernatural work, demands strength above nature. But he who feels
helpless of himself, should place his entire trust and confidence in
God's grace and assistance, saying, with the Apostle, "I can do all
things in him who strengthened me" (Ph. iv: 13).
Come, then, to the banquet prepared for you by the great King. Regale
yourself with the spiritual viands set before you, and not only will
you be strengthened to do God's will, but transported beyond measure
with spiritual delights.