It's Sunday September 30th. Beginning of the new phase in the vertical year. It's a Sunday in which we experience in a specially high degree or in a deep way that the liturgy of the church is full not only of the clear wisdom of the eternal word but also of all the emotions the emotions of the human heart you know, the human heart as it is left affected by the fall.

[01:05]

We sang tonight the Alleluia, the end of vespers, twice emphatically, jubilantly. The Alleluia which contains in it not only the eternal joy, let us say the static, lasting, permanent joy of God in His untroubled peace and blessedness, but also the thanksgiving for the restoring of mankind after the fall and for the forgiveness that the Good Shepherd gave when he came down and picked up the sheep and carried it back to the high mountains of blessedness.

[02:21]

So the Alleluia is full of that emotion not only a pure eternal joy but a joy saturated with that special jubilation which was given to the angels not over the 99 just ones who never needed forgiveness, but over the one sinner who came back. And then after the Alleluia, which is therefore so full of that warmth that the victory of God's love over human sin gives to it.

[03:32]

That is then followed by the dolores mortis, by the jamie twos inferno that surround us tomorrow at mass. These three Sundays And to see the Sunday quarters, ACMI, I think everybody can see that, are of a very special character. And one can in some way only realize that they are, that they owe their origin to very special circumstances. Usually the Sunday is an Easter. And I think it's unusual if a Sunday starts with . Still, of course, in this Sunday ,, the voice of victory is not lacking.

[04:42]

But anyhow, it brings close to us special grief, special misery. All that human misery which is a consequence of the fall. Described so beautifully and majestically by St. Augustine in that paragraph from the Enchiridion that we read tonight in the Visions. So there is the other, I'd say, extreme. We experience the misery, unhappiness of mankind. At the time when these Sundays were formed liturgically, Rome was at her lowest.

[05:46]

Surrounded and not only surrounded but invaded and destroyed by the Lombards. Great Queen of the Universe had been humbled and had become truly poor. And this what we hear here in the Sunday Septuagint is indeed the voice of the poor. the voice of people who are terribly oppressed, suffer the whole weight of misery, catastrophe, destruction, sickness and death. So that again is a picture of human emotion, sorrow. But this sorrow here on this Sunday also has its special character.

[06:49]

It's not simply the sorrow which is the reaction of human selfishness to affliction brought upon us. but is the sorrow of the Church, of the Ecclesia. And the Ecclesia realizes that misery and sorrow are and have the key to their understanding in the human sin. In the sin of Adam originally, that original disobedience and then all the actual sins that in this whole masa damnata of the human race follows that original form. Now, therefore, the joy which we experience in the Alleluia is not simply the joy of blessed and unharmed life,

[08:05]

not simply exaltation and abundance of vitality. But that Alleluia is the joy, as we said before, which the angels experience over the signal came back. It is the joy which is saturated with redemption. And that fact, that this joy is the answer to divine redemption, springs out of thanksgiving for the forgiveness of sins. That makes this joy a personal one, really and truly a joy of the heart, gives it real human depth. While on the other hand, the sorrow over the catastrophes which come over mankind, the sufferings to which we are exposed, this sorrow is again really the sorrow of the heart becomes a part of the human person

[09:31]

when it realizes that the root is really man's guilt and that therefore this sorrow is part of the punishment which we have to bear in God's justice so that the glory of his name may be restored. See joy and sorrow. Joy, not self-contained joy over innate perfection, but joy over that act of divine condescendence and redemption which came down from above and snatched us out of many waters. and that makes it really personal joy.

[10:33]

Not only a pleasure, not only something that is lovely and nice, but really and truly joy. It cannot be separated from thanksgiving, and in some way cannot be separated from, you would say, You can see that in the pastoral symphony of Beethoven, the special character of that joy which follows the thunderstorm. That's the fullness of happiness and joy. And then the other sorrow, the other opposite extreme of the emotion of the human heart, that sorrow understood in the light of human sin again and God's justice as we have it here.

[11:42]

Now, I have been asked sometimes, you know about, I ask myself very often, What role do the emotions play in monastic life? What room is there for them? Now that's an important question. Because the human heart wants, longs for that depth which also is shown in the emotions. And if one enters, I'm just writing the memoirs.

[12:47]

That gives me permission. It fills my heart. But just remembering the entering into the novitiate, you know, as a postulant, you know, coming from the outside and coming from a family milieu which that God in his merciful providence was really saturated with that specific love which parents can give their children and which children then return to their parents and which from the part of the parents going to the children is a kind of let us say absolute love Somehow that love of the parents, of the viscera matris, you know, for the child is an absolute love.

[13:55]

It's so that the child feels absolutely protected in it, safe in it. While at the same time also the response of the child To the parents, that loving response. Also, it's a kind of absoluteness. The father, the mother, how can they be wrong? They are just the ideal father and the ideal mother. Let us say the father and the mother. And to the parents, this child is the boy, my boy, our boy. And that gives that, you know, that's what the child needs, you know, that absolute love, because the child realizes, you know, that it is kind of walking on weak feet,

[14:58]

It may stumble all the time, but then it has the wonderful feeling that whatever happens, they will always be there to wrap it. So that, you see, that kind of absolute love, which characterizes this family love, paternal love, parental love, and the love of the child, Then when you come out of that milieu into a monastery, they say a monastery is a family. We're all a family. Always either family here, family there. But then you see you have your certain misgivings about it all. Because why? You come into a group of people closely knit group of people who know one another and who know all the, to say the

[16:07]

the mechanics of the monastic life, the, what is it, do-how, is it? Know-how. Know-how and knowledge. Why not be creative? So all the know-how, you know, have the inside track, so to speak. And then know one another and have a spirit. And of course this spirit is not the spirit of the one who now enters into it. So you feel kind of lost. The individual feels kind of lost. Especially when it comes from that specific warmth of the blood family, then the monastic family feels rather poor.

[17:17]

And so that this question about the role of emotions in monastic life is a question which is of importance. But immediately, of course, we know that a monastic family where, let us say, what we call sentimentalities would be exchanged all the time between the members, that that would be fast, very soon, let us say, too warm. It would be an affair where one would like to withdraw, to free oneself from, because the soul is very sensitive against all attempts at possessiveness.

[18:25]

And that's, of course, always connected with sentimentality. Sentimentality, in that way, is always aggressive, always selfish, always wants exclusively for oneself. And that, of course, can only take place and take a hold in monastic life at the expense of the community life and to the detriment of the freedom, protection of the individual soul, so that it is right away clear that, of course, selfish sentimentality has to be offered, has to be put upon the altar, has to be renounced, cannot have a place in a monastic life. because it becomes something that enters between us and God and therefore separates us and makes it impossible to attain our goal, which is union with God alone.

[19:44]

O beata solitudo. Still, I would say, Every monk should be a person. Every monk should have a heart. He should not degenerate into a cold kind of cold icicle. That's not the meaning of the monastic life. Where then is the, say, the room for the emotions? I would say that that is clearly indicated in this Sunday, in this jubilant Alleluia and in these Dolores mortis that surround us. There is a vast field of emotions which is something specifically human. It is not, let us say, divine in that pure, let's say, abstract sense of the word.

[20:55]

Something specifically human. But still it is something supernatural. Why? Because these are emotions which are transfigured, transformed by the divine agape, by God's descending love. There is a wide field of thanksgiving for all the manifestations of divine grace in the brother who lives with us. Thanksgiving for all that God's mercy has wrought in the hearts of those who live with us. And there is a great wide field of compassion.

[22:00]

Compassion with the weaknesses that we see in others. And may I add we wouldn't see them in others if we would not experience them in ourselves. And there is another field of real and true personal depth and depth full of emotion. Of both these things we deprive ourselves very often. Some habitually deprive themselves of that. One is too, one lacks the sensitivity, the alertness, the inner contact, the feeling for others to rejoice and give thanks to God for the good that we see.

[23:04]

Too often we compare the goodness of our brothers with our own imperfection, laziness, whatever it is. And we get kind of sad because there is jealousy mixed with it. And that jealousy, that's the poison which destroys the true and beautiful emotion of the heart. He prized the emotion of being blessed by the power of God's forgiving love. And therefore we do not give thanks. But if we rise above jealousy and give thanks for the good that we see in the brother, then that is an alleluia. And that is a beautiful motion. rising, ascension of the heart.

[24:08]

And then there is, on the other hand, there is the weakness of brethren. And there is again a wide field which we allow very often the devil to deprive us of. Opportunity we allow the devil to deprive us of and we allow the devil again to poison it. To poison it this time not by jealousy but by pride, by contempt. So that this weakness is not in that way carried or understood by compassion but it is simply met with contempt. And that again kills the heart, kills the emotion. It is then the cold, let us say, eagerness to correct, which may then deprive us of that warmth of compassion.

[25:26]

There is a field where we can carry the other one in our prayers before God. Now, all these thoughts, you know, really were made a little clearer to me just the other day when one of you brought my attention to St. Bernard's Degradibus Humilitatis, in which the third chapter, which he calls The Steps of Truth, And there is explained much better than I could do that. But I will just try to explain. It is shown there as taking place in Christ our Lord, the Word incarnate. The fact that the Word became flesh means that the Word of God takes on human emotions.

[26:29]

Now in this way he explains it. He says, I have shown so far as I could to what end the steps of humility should be ascended. I will show so far as I can in what order they lead to the promised prize of truth. But since the knowledge of truth consists itself of three steps, I will briefly distinguish them if I can that it may thus appear more clearly to which of the three of truth the twelfth of humility leads. For we seek truth in ourselves, in our neighbors, and in its own nature. In ourselves, judging ourselves. In our neighbors, sympathizing with their ills. In its own nature, contemplating with pure heart. Observe not only the number, but the order. First, let truth itself teach you that you should seek it in your neighbors before seeking it in its own nature.

[27:39]

Later you will see why you should seek it in yourself before seeking it in your neighbors. For in the list of Beatitudes, which he distinguished in his sermon, he placed the merciful before the pure in heart. The merciful quickly grasp truth in their neighbors, extending their own feelings to them and conforming themselves to them through love so that they feel their joys or troubles as their own. They are weak with the weak. They burn with the offended. They rejoice with them that do rejoice and weep with them that weep. After the spiritual vision has been purified by this brotherly love, then only do they enjoy the contemplation of truth in its own nature, and then bear with others' ills for love of it.

[28:41]

But those who do not unite themselves with their brethren in this way, but on the contrary either revile those, is it? those who weep, but disparage those who do rejoice. Not feeling in themselves that which is in others, because they are not similarly affected, how can they grasp truth in their neighbors? For the popular proverb well applies to them, the healthy do not know how the sick feel, nor the full how the hungry suffer. But sick sympathize with sick and hungry with hungry. The more closely, the more they are alike. For just as pure truth is seen only with a pure heart, so a brother's misery is truly filled with a miserable heart. But in order to have a miserable heart because of another's misery, you must first know your own. so that you may find your neighbor's mind in your own and know from yourself how to help him.

[29:49]

I'm the example of our Savior who wields his passion in order to learn compassion. His misery to learn commiseration. But just as it is written of him, yet learned he obedience by the things which he suffered, so also he learned mercy in the same way. Not that he did not know how to be merciful before when he was God. He whose mercy is from everlasting to everlasting. He knew it by nature from eternity, but learned it in time by experience. But perhaps you object to my saying that Christ, the wisdom of God, learned mercy as if he through whom all things are made should ever be ignorant of anything that is. This interpretation that I have just explained seems to be approved by another passage of that very epistle, where it is said, For verily he took not on him the nature of angels, but he took on him the seed of Abba.

[30:57]

Wherefore, in all things it behoved him to be made like unto his brethren, that he might be merciful. I think that these words refer to a head, and cannot be applied to the body with the head Christ himself and not his members. It is concerning the word of God that it is said that he took not on him the nature of angels, that is, did not assume that nature in one person with himself, but the seed of Abraham. For we do not read that the word was made angel, but that the word was made flesh, the flesh of the flesh of Abraham, according to the promise originally made to him. Wherefore, that is, from his assumption of the seed of Abraham, in all things it be moved him to be made like unto his brethren. That is, it was fitting and necessary that, subject to like passions as we are, he should experience all the kinds of our miseries except sin.

[32:01]

If you ask what was the necessity, it is answered that he might be merciful. And why, if you ask, cannot this rightly refer to the body of Christ, but hear what follows. For in that he himself has suffered being tempted, he is able to succor them that are tempted. I do not see what can better be understood from these words than that he wished to partake of the same suffering and temptation and all human miseries except sin in order to learn by his own experience how to commiserate and sympathize with those who are similarly suffering and tempted. I do not say he became any wiser through this experience, but he seemed to be nearer, so that the feeble sons of Adam, whom he was not ashamed to make and call his brethren, should not hesitate to commit their infirmities to him who could cure them, being God,

[33:11]

wanted to cure them, being their neighbor, and understood them, having suffered the same things. Wherefore, Isaiah calls him a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. And the apostle says, for we have not an high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities. and explains this by adding, but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin. For the blessed God, son of the blessed God, in that form in which he thought it not robbery to be equal with the Father, that is passionless, before he had made himself of no reputation and taken upon him the form of a servant, as he had not undergone misery or submission, did not know mercy or obedience by experience. He knew them intuitively, but not empirically.

[34:15]

But when he had made himself not only lower than his own dignity, but even a little lower than the angels, who are themselves passions by grace, not nature, even to that form in which he could undergo suffering and submission, which he could not do in his own form, as was said, Then he learned mercy in suffering, and he learned obedience in submission. Through this experience, however, not his knowledge, as I said, but our boldness was increased when he, from whom we had long been astray, was brought nearer to us by this sort of experimental wisdom. For when should we dare to approach him, remaining in his impassivity? But now we are urged by the apostle to come boldly unto the throne of grace, but to of him who we know from another verse has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.

[35:21]

And because of his own passion, we are sure of his compassion for us. Therefore it should not seem absurd to say, not that Christ began to know anything we did not know before, but that he knows mercy eternally in one way through his divinity, and learned it temporally in another way through the flesh. Since then you see that Christ in one person has two natures, one by which he always was, the other by which he began to be. and always knew everything in his eternal essence, but temporally experienced many things in his temporal essence. Why do you hesitate to grant that as he began in time to be in the flesh, so also he began to know the ills of the flesh by that kind of knowledge which the weakness of the flesh teaches? Our first parents would have been wiser and happier to have remained ignorant of that kind of knowledge, since they could only attain it by folly and misery.

[36:27]

But God, their maker, seeking again what had perished, accompanied his creatures in pity. There, whither they had fallen so pathetically, he also came down sympathizing. willing to experience in himself what they justly suffered for defying him, not because of a kind of curiosity, but because of marvelous love. Not to remain miserable with the miserable, but to become pitiful and free the pitiable. Become pitiful, I see, I say, not with that pity which he ever blessed had for eternity, but with that pity which he learned through sorrow when in our form. And the labor of love which he began through the former, he consummated in the latter, not because he could not consummate it in the one, but he could not fulfill our needs with the other.

[37:35]

Each was necessary, but the latter was more human. O device of ineffable love! How could we conceive that marvelous pity produced by no previous pain? How could we imagine that superhuman compassion, not preceded by passion, but coexisting with impassivity? Yet if that pity freed from pain had not come first, he would never have thought of this pity which is born of pain. Had he not thought of it, he would not have sought it. Had he not sought it out, he would not have brought it out. And as he not brought it out of an older pit, out of the miry clay, yet he no wise departed from the older mercy when he imparted the newer, not exchanging, but exceeding, as it is written, O Lord, thou preservest man and beast.

[38:39]

How excellent is thy lovingkindness, O God. Now, this lovingkindness of which St. Bernard speaks here, that has in the Old Testament a special term. Very often I call your attention to it. And that term, which the New Testament translates by the viscera, the viscera, the viscera of commiseration, of sympathy, that is the love which the nuns have in their children, that which the children have for their parents, That means that, let us say, that love of the blood, that which is the purest form, I mean the most human form of emotion, the standard form of emotion.

[39:45]

And that, you know, that is St. Bernard's thought, that the Word made flesh has taken over. And that he gives us, as God-man, And then also he asks of all those who become brethren in him. That is the viscera misericordia. So let us carry one another in the monastic life and as a monastic family in visceribus Jesu Christi.

[40:21]

@Transcribed_v005
@Text_v005
@Score_94.44