Gaining New Merits
St. Josemaria:
Comforted by Christ’s presence and nourished by his Body, we will be
faithful during our life on earth and then we will be victors with Jesus and
his Mother in heaven. “O death, where is
your victory? O death, where is your
sting?... Thanks be to God, who gives us
the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Cor 15:55-57).
Following is a
continuation (From Joseph Tissot, How to profit from your faults pp.
108-110) on the topic of merits.
The strongest and most powerful feelings pressure the truly repentant soul. They enter it through the breach caused by sin. There they increase a hundredfold her love for the insulted divinity. The soul expresses sorrow for having hurt God’s love, gratitude for his patience and gifts so generously and repeatedly given. She also asks him to forget her past unfaithfulness and to grant her something bitter and sweet at the same time, to make her weep along with Mary Magdalen in the presence of the Savior. We weep in the measure in which he allows us to kiss his feet and gives us a merciful welcome to our repentance. Isn’t all this good enough reason to light up in the contrite soul a flame of charity unknown before the fault itself was committed? If we foster these dispositions when we recall our sins, what heavenly illuminations will be attained!
“The more you plunge into divine love, the more
penetrating this memory becomes, and it stimulates the need to love the Being
who has so shamefully been insulted,” says Benigne Gojos (Religious
exchange on the Visitation of Turin, death in the fragrance of holiness, on 5
December 1692). The fault
may have lasted for only an instant, but the fire of love lasts a
lifetime. It can redouble each time we
think of this fault. It can become
eternal.
Certainly, every time we savor the recollection of a
mistake we have willingly made, it is a further stain. But it is also true that each time a
repentant soul condemns, regrets, and disowns its earlier sins, she receives
the compensation of new merits. And
because such repudiations can be multiplied infinitely, one can hardly imagine
the sum of all these merits and what they could achieve!
According to an old tradition, there is not one
pilgrim who, while passing in front of the tomb of Absalom in the valley of
Josaphat, does not throw a stone at it or insult the memory of this cruel
son. And yet, this tomb, buried under
the pile of stones of public indignation, has become a monument that
demonstrates the respect people have for the fourth commandment: Honor
your father and your mother.
In the same way, if each of our faults is made the
object of unceasing regret, it can serve as a base to build a mountain of
merit.
When we confess our past sins, who knows the value
of the fruitfulness that sacramental absolution adds to each repentance! Sanctifying grace flows once again in greater
abundance, in proportion to the penitent’s disposition. In addition, the blood of Jesus Christ, like
divine crimson, covers over the marks left by the sins blotted out; it leaves
the sap of supernatural strength there, often more vigorous than it was before
the fall.
From this point of view, we can understand the
apparently paradoxical sayings of those who have dealt with or talked about the
art of profiting from one’s faults. In the presence of a very fervent community,
an enlightened nun once said: “My
sisters, a fault is sometimes more profitable than receiving Holy
Communion!” Yes, in a certain way,
because, at times, the correction and repentance for a fault produce a more
lasting effect, or at least a more sensitive one, than the very reception of
the Author of Grace in Holy Communion.
BUT, the Catechism
of the Catholic Church, 1393: Holy Communion separates us from sin. The body of Christ we receive in Holy
Communion is “given up for us,” and the blood we drink “shed for the many for
the forgiveness of sins.” For
this reason the Eucharist cannot unite us to Christ without at the same time
cleansing us from past sins and preserving us from future sins: For as often as we eat this bread and drink
the cup, we proclaim the death of the Lord.
If we proclaim the Lord’s death, we proclaim the forgiveness of
sins. If, as often as his blood is
poured out, it is poured for the forgiveness of sins, I should always receive
it, so that it may always forgive my sins.
Because I always sin I should always have a remedy (St. Ambrose, De Sacr. 4, 6, 28: PL 16, 446; cf. 1Cor 11:26).
CCC,
1394: As bodily nourishment restores
lost strength, so the Eucharist strengthens our charity, which tends to be
weakened in daily life; and this living charity wipes away venial sins [Cf.
Council of Trent (1551); DS 1638]. By giving himself to
us Christ revives our love and enables us to break our disordered attachments
to creatures and root ourselves in him.
In all these reflections there is an infinite ocean
of consolation. One feels obliged to
apply to sin what the prophet Hosea and the Apostle St. Paul say of death: Death is swallowed up in victory, in the
victory of love (Hos 13:14; 1 Cor 15:54).
Once again let us consider the above in our moments of conversation with the Holy Spirit in prayer and listen to what He may tell you and me. This way will always make us benefit from our efforts, our thoughts, words and deeds. We will be living our faith, hope and love in our daily life.
See you in the next post, “May tomorrow be a perfect day; may you find love and laughter along the way; may God keep you in his tender care; ‘til He brings us together again.”
Affectionately,
Guadalupinky
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