Holy Spirit, my God, I want to speak about you, and yet I hesitate, since I am not qualified. Could I, in fact, say anything but what you inspire me to say? Could I utter a single word unless you come into me, in order to take my place and speak to yourself about yourself?
Begin, then, by giving yourself to me, O generous Benefactor, O perfect Gift, for you are mine. Nothing can belong to me, nor can I belong to myself, unless I first possess you. Be mine, and thus I shall be my own as well as yours. If I do not possess you, I shall possess nothing.
In whose estimation would I have the right to possess you? In no one’s but yours. You must, therefore, give yourself to me so that I may become your property. Predispose me, then, prepare my soul to receive you; and, once you’ve entered into it, speak to yourself for me and listen to yourself within me. Yes, listen to yourself rather than to me, O you who are so kind! Listen for once, and do not get annoyed. See what inspires my words, since I really do not know, though I realize full well that without your help I cannot say a single thing.
I remember, though, how your grace once sufficed to turn an adulterous murderer into a psalmist; how you rescued innocent young Susanna; how you looked upon a woman possessed by seven demons, upon Magdalen, and filled her with such overflowing love that she became the apostle to the Apostles; how you visited Dismas as he hung upon his cross, and how—that very day—you opened heaven for him to rejoice in the glory of Christ. Under your influence, Peter the apostate wept tears of repentance, and you prepared him to serve as supreme pontiff. Was it not at your prompting that a tax collector became an evangelist? And did you not unhorse the persecutor who, back on his feet again, became an outstanding teacher of the faith?
God of all holiness, when I ponder how you inspired all these people, their example encourages me to speak to you like this. And I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that you have taught me to respond the same way they did. That, too, is why I long for you and throw myself into your arms. Hear me, O unbounded Goodness, and may your miserable creature not incur your wrath!
If I have sinned more than all these people who exemplify your many mercies, still your leniency—being infinite—far and away surpasses my guilt. You can forgive hundreds of thousands of sins just as easily as one. Here, for instance, is a man who, because of a single mortal sin, is marked for damnation upon leaving this world; and here is another who, despite thousands of sins, is saved by God as being predestined to eternal life. What does that mean, O gentlest Spirit? It means that in one instance you manifest your mercy, and in the other your justice. Here again are two men, vastly different from each other, but both with a long history of enormous crimes. When their world comes to an end, both are equally destined—one to enter into eternal life, and the other to plunge into horrific torments. What can we learn from this, O God full of goodness? That, in such matters, your limitless mercy is always whole and entire, and always true to itself, though it acts in diverse ways. A small number of sins does not guarantee entrance into eternal life any more than a large number of serious sins should lead to despair.
But because your mercy is preferable to any life style, I invoke it, I desire it and find solace in clinging to it. Give yourself to me through your mercy, and grant me your mercy through yourself, so that I may possess it in you, and that it may serve you as a pathway to come to me.
Your mercy is what inspires me to speak to you courageously and confidently. It makes my soul rise above itself. And in possessing your mercy, I possess you. I therefore ask for nothing but you, since you are both teacher and knowledge, both doctor and remedy, love and lover, life and protector of life.
What remains to be said? You are everything we call good. For if we have not been annihilated, that is because of your leniency. It alone sustains us while patiently waiting for us; it alone preserves us by not condemning, calls us back without upbraiding, releases us without judging, grants us grace and does not take it back, and saves us through its persistence.
O my sinful soul, get up, stand straight, pay attention to these consoling thoughts, and do not reject the help which can assist you so mightily in reforming yourself. And always remember that the Holy Spirit is the only person you need for that task. So, let every fiber of your being rise; and, since your salvation resides in this person alone, consecrate all your powers to him, prepare yourself to serve as his dwelling place, and receive him so that he may receive you in turn.
Come, then, sweetest Spirit; extend your sacred finger to help me get up. May it come ever closer and draw me to you, as it touches my wounds and heals them. May it remove the swelling of my pride, clear the rot of my anger, purge the ravages of poisonous envy, cut away the dead skin of apathy, soothe the ache of cupidity and greed, drive out superfluity and gluttony, and replace the infection of lust with the fragrant aromas of the most perfect continence. Yes, O God full of goodness, touch me with the finger that pours wine, oil and purest myrrh on my wounds. Then will all my corruption disappear, as I return to my earlier innocence.
As a result, when you come to live in me (who at present am only a torn sack), you will find a dwelling in good condition, founded on the truth of faith, built with the certitude of hope, and crowned with the glow of ardent charity.
Though we sinners have not desired you for very long, come, lovable Guest. Yes, come! Stay with us; for, unless you do, it will grow late and the day will draw to a close. [cf. Lk 24:29] Knock, and open the door; for if you open it, no one will close it; come in and shut it behind you, so that no one may then open it. [cf. Apoc 3:7] All your possessions are secure [cf. Lk 11:21], and there can be no peace without you—you, repose for laborers, peace for combatants, joy for the suffering, consolation for the sick, refreshment for those oppressed by the heat, happiness for the afflicted, light for the blind, guide for those harrowed by doubt, and courage for the timid. Indeed, no one experiences tranquility unless he labors for you, nor peace unless he does battle for you. To suffer for your sake is the height of happiness, and to weep for you is supreme consolation—so much so that, in moaning for you, my soul (after a manner of speaking!) would seem to be surrendering to “vice” and “delights.” Ineffable Goodness, you cannot bear to see us suffer, to see us weep and toil because of you; for, at one and the same moment, both labor and rest begin, both war and peace, both sorrow and happiness. Thus, to be in you is to be in eternal bliss.
O my Beloved, touch my soul. Touch this soul which you created and then chose as your abode on the day of my baptism. Alas, you have a thousand times been shamefully, outrageously evicted from this house which belongs to you fully and entirely! But now your wretched guest is calling you back with loud cries because he realizes that your absence is the worst of evils.
Come back, O kindly Spirit; take pity on this traitor who has driven you out. Now—oh! yes, now—I vividly recall the happiness I tasted when you were present. With you, I had everything that was good. [cf. Wis 7:11] As soon as you left, however, my enemies robbed me and took all the treasures you had brought for me; and, not content with impoverishing me so, they beat and wounded me, leaving me half-dead. [cf. Lk 10:30]
So come back, beloved Lord; come once again into your own home, before your demented guest draws his last breath. Today I see, today I understand how miserable I am, living apart from you. Even though I blush with shame and confusion because you are far away, still the unspeakable weaknesses occasioned by your absence force me to call you back.
Precious Guardian, return to the house of the wretched Martha whom I have become; and keep me in the truth, lest I someday fall asleep in death and my enemy boast, “I have prevailed!” [Ps 12:5] With your help, I will trust in your mercy, latch onto it, place all my hope in it. It will be my portion, my inheritance [cf. Ps 16:5–6]; and, accordingly, I will not fear what mortal man can do to me. [cf. Ps 56:5]
It is impossible for you to withhold your mercy from me, for mercy and you are consubstantial. See how poor I am, how dire my needs; and have pity on me, not according to my sinfulness, but according to your infinite greatness. May your compassion prove that it ranks above all your works. [cf. Ps 145:9–10] Let not the malice of sin outweigh the greatness of your mercy. Leniency is what makes you declare: “I take no pleasure in the death of sinners, but rather in their conversion, so that they may live.” [Ez 33:11] For you desire “mercy, not sacrifice.” [Mt 9:13]
Most generous Benefactor, stretch forth your right hand—that sacred hand which is never empty, does not know how to refuse, and always gives to those in need. Yes, beloved Benefactor, extend that hand, so full of your gifts: it is the hand of the poor. Give this poor man of yours—or, rather, give to poverty itself—those weapons or treasures that enrich the poor yet leave them nothing to fear. Complete, O Lord, what your right arm has begun. [cf. Ps 68:29] For I clearly see that if you save us, it is not because we have performed righteous deeds, but because you are merciful. [cf. Tttus 3:5]
Therefore, most holy Communication, grant me the gift of piety, whose role is to inspire gentleness as well as to preserve us from any attachment to worldly goods. Thus shall we be able to say, like the Apostle Peter: “We have given up everything and followed you.” [Mt 19:27]
As soon as we have renounced the things of this passing world, your salvific influence will guide us over level ground [cf. Ps 143:10] directly to the land of the living. [cf. Ps 142:6] And through the loving devotion which it inspires, it will usher us into that blessed abode where we shall delight in you for all eternity.
Amen.
St Augustine the Greater, Sermon 34
