Only the Pure of Heart, Shall See God - Matthew 5:8

"Evil communications, corrupt good manners." (Luke) Why is it that the association with the wicked corrupts our manners and morals? We meet a wicked man. We hold conversation with him, and afterwards, we are different than before. What is the explanation of this fact? How does it happen that we are benefited by conversations with someone good, and injured by conversations with someone bad? How is it that one man is able to influence another, whether for good or for evil? What is the meaning of influence itself?

Influence is the inflowing or flowing in. In other words, human beings are dependent on an exterior object. God alone can live in, from, and by Himself, uninfluenced and unaffected by anything distinguishable from His own being. But, man is not God. Human beings are dependent, but free to choose good or evil; to side with God or with the devil; to follow truth or falsehood, light or darkness; to embrace virtue or vice.

In consequence of the fall of Adam, man feels more inclined for evil than for good. Baptism, indeed, cancels original sin in our soul, but it does not destroy our natural inclination to evil, which we have inherited from our first parents. The great Apostle St. Paul says, "I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate." (Romans) That is to say, I do not wish to do evil; I even try to avoid it; but I experience within myself a continual inclination to evil; I endeavor to do good, but I feel within myself a great relunctance, and I must do mortification to myself in order to act right.

Everyone from his childhood experienced this evil inclination. We naturally feel more inclined to anger than to meekness, to disobedience than to submission; we are more prone to hatred than to love; more inclined to gratify the evil desires of our heart than to practise the holy virtue of purity; we prefer our own conveniences to visiting Jesus Christ in the Blessed Sacrament, or receiving Him in Holy Communion. We are naturally indifferent toward god and His religion; we lack fervor in His divine service; we often feel more inclined to join a forbidden society than to enter a pious confraternity; we often find more pleasure in reading a bad or useless book than one that is good and edifying; we are more likely to listen to uncharitable and impure conversation than to the Word of God; we feel naturally more inclined to vain-glory, pride, and levity, than to humility, self-control, and the spirit of mortification.

Now, when we place ourselves wilfully in situations in which this natural inclination to evil is nourished, so strong does the inclination become that without immediate prayer, it becomes morally impossible to resist it.

Charles, King of Navarre, was once affected with great weakness of the nerves. By order of the physician, he was sewed up in clothing moistened with brandy, in order that by this strengthening stimulant, his nerves may become active again. Unfortunately, without thought, the attendant who sewed the clothing, burned off the final thread with a candle, and the linen soaked brandy took fire with such a fury, there was no means of saving the king. We must likewise bear in mind that our soul is wrapped up in weak flesh, as in a cloth, not moistened with brandy, but with something a thousand times more flammable -- the passion of lust.

If we bring our soul too near the fire of sinful occasions, it will immediately take fire. The very presence, the very sight of that person for whom passion is felt, has a fascinating power. A moment's conversation, a single word, a look, a gesture, casts a spark of impure fire into the innocent soul; and that fire is soon fanned into a fierce flame that may never be extinguished.

The law of nature, written in every man's heart -- the voice of conscience -- tells him that it is a sin to defile his soul and body by the shameful vice of impurity. Everyone is born with a natural sense of modesty. A certain feeling of same restrains the heart, the less unsullied, from every thought, word, and action. The honest blood rushes from the pure heart and mantles the flushing cheek whenever anything immodest is spoken of or hinted at. The voice of conscience warns everyone before he commits the shameful deed. And when at last, after long and fearful struggles, a pure man has unhappily consented to sin, his feelings of shame, of agony, and remorse, torture and reprimand him.

Where is the man who does not feel and know for certain that the vice of impurity defiles and dishonors him? Where is the man who, after having committed the foul deed, does not feel degraded in his own eyes -- whose conscience does not torture and reproach him? Where is the man who, after having gratified his vile passion, does not feel how empty his heart is -- how ashamed this sin has made him?

The libertine seeks the most secret nook, the darkest night, to cover and conceal his sinful passion. He strives to hide the blush of shame beneath the fall of darkness and secrecy. He whispers into the ear of his victim, "No one sees us;" but he forgets that there is an Eye that sees all, that there is One before whom the darkest night is as the broad light of day. Why do these things in secret with lies and deceit? It is because his own conscience condemns his foul actions.

Even the heathens of old, the pagans without the Gospel of Jesus Christ, despite being in error in so many areas, all saw impurity as a most shameful act. The tribes in Germany and Gaul, if a young girl lost her innocence, her father had the power to put her to death, and thus wash away the stain of dishonor from his family. Why is it that we find even among the heathens such severe punishments inflicted upon the impure? It is because they knew by the light of reason how heinous and shameful was the sin of impurity.

What is it that gives the young man, and especially the young woman, their freshness, their beauty, their loveliness? Is it not innocenc, purity of heart, stainless virginity? This heavenly virtue casts around them a halo of glory that nothing else can give.

But, if this virtue and beauty is once lost, if the lily of purity once withers and dies, what can replace it? That young woman, may be ornamented with finery, silks, satins, gold, and precious stones, but of what use are these if she has lost the greatest ornament of all, her virtue?

"Your bodies," says St. Paul, "are the living temples of the Holy Ghost." Let us be mindful of our dignity. Our soul was made in the image of God and to the likeness of God in Baptism. "You bodies," says St. Paul, "are members of the body of Christ." (1 Corinthians)

Your body has become intimately united with Jesus Christ in Baptism, but more especially in Holy Communion. You can say with truth, especially after having received the Eucharist, that the blood of a God flows in your veins. What an unspeakable honor! Many men boast of their ancestry. They are proud of royal blood and the blood of heroes. How great, then, is the honor of a Christian in whose body is united to the King of kings!

What a burning shame, then, what a horrible sacrilege, is it for a Christian to defile his body and soul by the foul vice of impurity! By committing that sin, he dishonors Jesus Christ. This crime, as St. Paul the Apostle assures us, is so great that, "neither the immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor homosexuals, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkads, nor revilers, nor robbers will inherit the kingdom of God." (1 Corinthians)

St. Jerome says, "There is nothing more vile or degrading that to allow oneself to be conquered by the flesh." In fact, in the lives of the Church Fathers, it is related that a certain hermit, being once permitted the company of an angel, met on his way the fetid carcass of a dog. The angel gave no sign of displeasure at the smell which it exhaled. They afterwards met a young man elegantly dressed and highly perfumed. The angel stopped and turned away from him. The hermit asked him why he did so, and the angel said, "the young man, on account of the vice of impurity in which he has indulged, sent forth a far more intolerable stench than the putrid dog carcass."

"In no sin," says St. Thomas, "does the devil delight so much as in the sins against chastity." The reason why the devil takes so much delight in this vice is because it is difficult for a person who is addicted to it to be delivered from it. And why? Because this sin blinds the sinner so much, that he commits it more often than any other sin.

The unchaste are guilty of an unceasing torrent of sins, by thoughts, by words, by looks, by complacencies, and by touches, so that when they go to confession they find it impossible to tell the number of sins they have committed against chastity. Even in their sleep, the devil will present to them obscene situations and past viewed images, so that when they arise, they may take delight in them followed by more sins from his continued suggestions.

It is easy to contract the habit of impurity, because our nature inclines it. Another reason why the devil delights so much in seeing men commit this sin, is because it leads to so many other sins. How many abortions and infanticides have comes from sins of impurity?

The impure man is, to a certain degree, guilty of idolatry -- giving some creature or created thing the love and honor which are due to God alone. Is it not idolatry if one is willing to forsake his health, honor, hope of Heaven, and God Himself for his own passion?

The impure man is guilty of perjury. Is not the young woman who protests solemnly to her parents that she keeps no dangerous company; is not that vain woman who protests again and again to her husband that she receives no dangerous visits, guilty of perjury, when they call God to bear witness to their innocence, though they know in their inmost hearts that they are not innocent? How many false oaths has not that young man taken? How often has he solemnly sworn to the unhappy victim of his passion that he would never abandon her, yet, how quickly has that promise been broken as soon as his passions were gratified?!?

Impurity leads to sins of sacrilege. Who are those that make bad confessions? Who are those that conceal their sins in confession, and make so many sacrilegious communions? They are ashamed to confess their secret sins. They will not reveal to their confessor the dangerous company they keep, the sinful liberties they permit, the shameful thoughts and desires that they nourish in their hearts. They never mention the wicked books that they read, nor the immodest conversation in which they indulge. And even if they do mention any sins of this kind, they never tell the whole truth; they cover and lessen the sin; so that their confession is worthless, and they leave the confessional with the curse of God and the sin of sacrilege on their soul. Oh! how many of these souls are lost forever. How many are now burning in hell who were led astray by the demon of impurity, and who afterwards had not the courage to open their hearts sincerely, to tell everything honestly to their confessor!

Impurity leads to theft. A young man steals from his employer, so that he may have the means to spend the night in those houses of sin and shame. The young woman steals from her parents in order to buy some finery, which she thinks will make her more captivating in the eyes of others. A husband and a father squanders his means and ruins his family in order to gratify the vanity of some infamous woman who has gain those affections which alone belong to his lawful wife. To gratify his passions, he is cruel to his family.

Impurity leads to cruelty and hardness of heart. There lived some years ago in the city of Vienna, a young widow. She had an only child -- a little girl of about six years ago named Lena. Soon after the death of her husband, this young widow began to receive the visits of a young man of the neighborhood. By and by, the visits became more frequent, their friendship ripened into intimacy, and the impure passions took control. The young widow felt the shame of her position, but she was blinded by her passions, and would not give up the young man's company. She urged him frequently to save her from shame by an honorable marriage, but he steadily refused. "I cannot marry a woman with a child," he said; "it would only bring trouble." At last the woman, who had now given herself up entirely to the devil, formed the horrible resolution to do away with her child, and thus set aside every obstacle to continue her passion.

In the house in which she lived, there was a deep, dark cellar. One day, the widow took her little daughter by the hand, led her down into the cellar and said, "Here, Lena, remain here until I come back for you." The poor innocent child began to cry, but the cruel mother, steeped in lust with a hardened heart, hurried away, closing the door. Two days passed. The mother hoped now that her little child was dead. In the darkness of the night, she went down to the cellar, slowly opened the door, and called out, "Lena, are you there?" The sad, plaintive voice of the little child was heard, "Ah! mamma, mamma, give me a piece of bread." But the mother turned away and closed the heavy door once more.

Another day passed, and the mother spent it in the company of her wicked companion, gratifying her sinful passions. Once more, she went down to the cellar, thinking this time for sure she would be dead said, "Lena, are you there?" Again, the sad, moaning voice of her dying child was heard in feeble tones, "O mamma, mamma! A piece of bread." The wicked mother turned away; her heart trembled not with compassion, but with selfish fear now, for what if she woud be caught.

She waited several more days, and when she went to the cellar once more, the child was dead! She took the poor dear child to her room and dressed it for burial. Early the nex morning, the neighbors wailed and lamented for this poor child. They hastened to her room, and found the child dead, dressed in white with a wreath of flowers on its breast. No one suspected anything of the foul murder.

The next day, the child was buried. Every heart was touched, every eye filled with tears; except one heart, however, that remained cold and unmoved, her enslaved in the sin of impurity. She was now free. She could not fully gratify her sinful passions without restraint, and without any fear of detection. The secret deed now locked away in her heart. But oh! the terrible justice of God! When the priest recited the "Our Father prayer," and came to the words, "Give us this day our daily bread," the sad, plaintive cry of her dying child rand in the ears of the mother; a wild feeling of terror and remorse seized her, and she fell senseless to the ground. She came to herself again, but she had lost her reason, becoming completely overtaken by the demon of impurity. And now, with a wild, unearthly laugh, she related to the horror-stricken bystanders all that she had done, leaving her soul bound by the devil and her earthly desires taken away.

Impurity leads to jealousy, murder, and suicide. George Bauman, a school principle and Annie McNamara, met frequently for nine months in a house of shame for impure passions when out of the blue, George shot Annie, and then shot himself.

The third reason why the devil takes delight in the vice of impurity is because this sin involves the malice of scandal. Other sins, such as blasphemy, perjury, and murder, excite horror in those who witness them; but the sin of impurity easily excites and draws others to commit it, or at least to commit it with less horror. Ignorance of evil is a part of innocence, and the best fortification for virtue. Those who have never seen evil, do not think about seeing evil. They will feel a horror of it, unless they see it committed and excused by others. How many have received their first lessons in immorality from the maid, cook, or the nurse; while a single night with a new roomate may initiate a boy to impure mysteries to which he had previously remained innocent. This last danger is greatly increased if the casual roomate be older in age; for the power of mischief possessed by the older boy is increased in proportion to his size and his experience. An impure boy or girl is sure to corrupt the smaller ones whenever a safe opportunity presents itself, and thus children often fall victims to those who are older than themselves.

The fourth reason why the devil rejoices so much in seeing one commit the sin of impurity, is because it blinds the sinner to such an extent, he does not see the injury to God, nor the miserable state in which he lives and sleeps. Like "the sow wollowing in the mire," the impure are immersed in their own filth, so that they are not as sensible to the malice of their actions, and therefore, they neither feel nor abhor the wickedness of their impurities. By this sin, they lose the light of God, which shines in the hearts of all his children, so that they may not stray from the narrow path that leads to Heaven. But to these unhappy souls, this light of the soul is extinguished by the sin of impurity and are left in total darkness. Their sins degrade and dim their understanding more than any other vice. They have eyes and see not, ears and hear not, reason and understand not. The prophet says that, being blinded by their own filth, they do not even think of returning to God. "They will not set their thoughts to return to their God, for the spirit of fornication is in the midst of them, and they have not known the Lord." (Hosea) Yes, this sin, if often repeated, will became a habit, and this habit will become strengthened and deeply rooted in the soul until it finally evolves into sins of malice, which becomes even more devilish.

Whoever contracts the habit and arrives at this degree of impurity is possessed by a hardened, unyielding determination to commit sin -- a determination which neither warnings nor threats, neither punishments nor favors can change. Shrouded in impenetrable darkness, in deliberate defiance of God and man, the rays of divine light cannot penetrate this heart. Mortal Sin always separates these unhappy souls from God. The wounds of his conscience become deadened, so that he can no longer feel any remorse, and at last, he reaches such a depth of wickedness that it is almost impossible for him to return to his Father's House.

By lust, the devil triumphs over the entire man, his body, soul, and memory, by filling it with unchaste thoughts and making him take pelasure in them; over his intellect by making him desire occasions of committing sin; over his will by making him love its impurities as the final goal to be obtained, as if there was no God or Heaven.

Some years ago, a gentlemen of rank and education, lost the light of God, so far as to keep in his house a young woman of loose character. His friends, relatives, and even the priest of God, advised and begged him again and again to give up that wicked girl. At last, this gentlemen fell sick, and his illness became so dangerous that he was at the point of death. The good priest now came to see him. He blessed the dying man, and spoke kindly to him saying, "My dear friend," said the priest, "your illness is dangerous, it is true, but you are young, and have a strong case to have hope in your recovery. But, just in case, it would do you no harm to make your peace with God like a good Christian."

"Ah! father," said the dying man, "I know that I am in great danger. It is true, I have led a very wicked life, but I now wish to amend. I wish to die a good death. Tell me, then, what I must do."

The priest was overjoyed to see him in such a good disposition. "Well, since you desire to die a good death, you must prepare yourself by a good confession," said the priest.

"Oh! most willing," was the reply.

"Are there any debts that you have no paid?" asked the priest.

"I have paid them all," answered the sick man.

"Have you never defrauded your neighbor or injured him in his good name or property?"

"Yes, I have, but I have made restituion."

"Are you willing to ask pardon of all those whom you may have offended?"

"Yes, I humbly ask pardon of all those whom I have offended."

"Do you wish, then to receive the last Sacraments?" asked the priest.

"I desire it with all my heart." answered the dying man.

"Well, then," said the priest, "since you desire to receive the last sacraments, you know you must put away every obstacle to the grace of God -- you must send away this wicked woman from your house; she is a constant occasion of sin to you still. You must send her away."

"O father!" said the dying man, "what do you mean? Send away that girl? Oh! I cannot do that!"

"What is that?" said the priest in amazement. "You cannot. Why can you not? Do you not know that you must do so if you wish to save your soul?"

"Father, I cannot, I cannot."

"But you are at the point of death. In a few moments, you will be forced to leave her anyways. Why not send her away now of your own free will?" said the priest.

"I cannot do it, indeed I cannot."

The desperate priest cried and drew forth his crucifix, "look at this crucifix. Our Redeemer, your Lord, suffered and died for you. He shed His heart's blood for you. Will you not make this slight sacrifice to please Him? Oh! look upon His wounds; see His blessed head crowned wtih thorns -- can you refuse him? For the love of Jesus, have pity on your poor soul. Will you not send away that wicked woman, at least for the love of Jesus Christ?"

"Father, I have told you already that I cannot do it."

"But, if you do not send her away, I cannot give you the Sacraments."

"No matter, I cannot do it." said the dying man.

"You will be excluded from the Kingdom of Heaven." said the priest.

"Well, I cannot help it."

"You will be condemned to the everlasting flames of hell."

"Well, I cannot help it."

"In the name of God, be reasonable. Is it not better to send away this wicked woman than to lose soul and body, Heaven, and God Himself?"

"I cannot send her away." The dying man then beckoned to the wicked woman, who was standing at some distance from him, and as soon as she came near him, he threw his arms around her neck, and, in a voice which trembled with weakness and passion, he cried, "Ah! you have been my joy during life, you shall be my joy in death, and throughout all eternity."

These were his last words, for in an instant, he breathed forth his soul, and died in the very act of sin. O! how difficult it is for a person who has contracted the habit of sin, to amend their life, and return sincerely to God!

Let no one delude himself with the false assumption that he can be exempt from the unhappy dying man. Those who persist will surely die a horrible death, while those who seem to escape are those who most surely carry their punishment for the remainder of their lives by constant attacks from the devil; or by falling victims to some chronic disease from their detestable vice. "Thou has cast me off behind they back," says the Lord; "bear you also your wickedness and your fornitcations." (Ezekiel)

Let us conclude with a true story told by St. Alphonsus Liguori:

One day, on the way to Church, a young girl met a young man. He greeted her, and asked her where she was going? "I am going to Church," she replied.

"This is a beautiful day," replied the young man. "The sun shines so brightly. You have plenty of time to go to Church; come and let us take a short walk."

The girl hesitated at first, but she forgot to pray, and at last she consented. They both went out into the fields, and the devil went with them. The young girl forgot all about Mass. She did not think of the terrible danger to which she exposed herself, and at last, when she returned home she was no longer innocent. The young man went away, and she never saw him again. The girl went home, but she did not tell her parents what had happened, and they suspected nothing.

Evening came, and the girl felt unwell. Morning came, and the girl was much worse. A neighboring woman came in, and when she saw the girl, she grew pale and whispered to the mother, "For God's sake, send quick for the priest; your daughter is dying." The girl's brother ran in haste for the priest, but he was not at home. He had gone far away on a sick call. The girl's mother went to the window and looked out anxiously, to see if the priest was coming.

Suddenly, the young girl uttered a fearful scream. The mother ran to the bedside. The daughter was sitting up, her face was deadly pale, her eyes were staring wildly. "My poor child," said the mother, "what is the matter? Why did you scream?"

The girl pointed with her finger to a corner of the room and said, "O mother, mother! look, look! Do you not see them?"

"No, my child," said the mother, "I can see nothing."

"O mother!" screamed the girl in an agony of terror. "See them, those horrible unnatural monsters! See, they are coming near me!"

"Do not mind them, my darling," said the mother soothingly. "The priest will soon be here, and he will drive them away." And the mother gently laid back her head on the pillow. "Now sleep, my death child," said she; "the priest will soon be here, and all will be well." She then went once more to the window, and looked out anxiously to see if the priest was coming.

Again, the girl uttered a wild shriek. The mother hastened to her side. The girl was sitting up as before, her eyes glared wildly, looking like two balls of fire. The mother laid her hand gently on her daghter's forehead, and she could feel the blood throbbing against her temple. The girl looked fixedly at the corner of the room. She neither stirred nor spoke, but seemed transfixed with terror.

Suddenly, she shuddered convulsively, and, turning to her mother, screamed, "O mother, mother, look! Those monsters are coming to me. O mother! they tell me they are devil; that they are going to carry my soul to hell." The young girl began to shriek wildly, and to curse the young man that was the cause of her ruin. Her face turned black, as if she was choking, felling into further convulsions, and at last gasped and died. Yes, she died without the priest, died in her Mortal Sin, and her soul was taken to hell by those very demons.

Ah, what a horrible death! God created this girl for Heaven. All that she had to do, to gain Heaven, was to avoid bad example and bad company. All she had to do was pray. The moment of temptation came for her, she did not pray, and thus she did not resist. She broke the command of God. She committed a Mortal Sin, and died without confession or repentance. Had she at least made a good Act of Contrition, she might yet have been saved; but no, she died in despair, and the devils carried her soul to hell.

The impure may say that the sin of impurity is but a small evil. But at the hour of death, they will not continue to say this. Every sin of impurity, shall then show itself such as it really is, a monster of hell. Must less, will they say so before the Judgement Seat of Jesus Christ, Who will tell them what His Apostle has already told them, "No fornicator or unclean has inheritance in the Kingdom of God" (Ephesians) The man who has lived and lowered himself down to the level of an animal, cannot sit among the angels.

Let anyone who may be struggling with sins of impurity: an impure tongue, impure eyes, impure thoughts, impure actions, impure memories, impure imaginations, impure dreams, impure friends -- let him pray to God, let him pray to the Mother of God, in order to obtain, through her powerful intercession, light to see the great danger of damnation which his soul will incur, and courage and strength to deliver himself from this danger by a sincere confession and firm purpose of amendment of life -- by avoiding the occasions of this sin, and by having immediate recourse to prayer as soon as he is assailed by temptations against the holy virtue of chastity.

Prayer by St Alphonsus Liguori for a Soul in the State of Mortal Sin

When my soul had the happiness of being in Thy grace, it was Thy friend, Thy child, and Thy temple; but by committing sin, I lost it all, and became Thy enemy and the slave of hell.

But, I thank You, O my God! for giving me time to recover Thy grace. I am sorry above all things for having offended You, O Infinite Goodness! Ah! receive me again into Thy friendship. For Thy mercy's sake, do not reject me. I know that I deserve to be banished from Thy face; but, by the sacrifice which He offered on Calvary, Jesus Christ has merited for me mercy and pardon.

My Father, come with Thy grace to reign in my heart; and grant that I may serve You alone, that I may live for You alone, and that I may love You alone. Ah! do not permit my enemies to tempt me so that I may be conquered. "But deliver us from evil." Deliver me from hell; but first deliver me from sin, which alone can lead me to hell.

O Mary! pray for me, and preserve me from the great misfortune of ever seeing myself in sin and deprived of the grace from seeing you and my God.

Amen.

Prayer by St. Alphonsus Liguori for All Holy Virtues

My Lord and my God, by the merits of Jesus Christ, I ask You above all to enlighten me; make me to know the vanity of the goods of this world, that there is nothing worth loving but You, the Supreme and Infinite Good.

Make me know my unworthiness, and how worthy You are of being loved by all, and especially by me on account of the love You have for me. Give me holy humility to embrace with cheerfulness all the contempt that I may recieve from men. Give me a love for the obedience I owe to my superiors. Give me grace to direct all that I do to the sole end of pleasing You.

Give me holy purity of mind and body, and detachment from everything that does not tend to the love of You. Give me great confidence in the Passion of Jesus Christ, and in the interecession of the everblessed Mary.

Give me, above all, a great love toward You, and a perfect conformity to Your divine will.

Amen

Source

The Prodigal Son

Original 1875 Publication

Fr. Michael Muller, 1825 - 1899

CSSR or the Redemptorists founded by St. Alphonsus Liguori