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Letters of Catherine Benincasa by Catherine Benincasa

C >> Catherine Benincasa >> Letters of Catherine Benincasa




Alas, alas, alas, most holy father! The first day that you came to your
own place, you should have done so. I hope in the goodness of God and in
your holiness that what is not done you will do. In this way both
temporalities and spiritualities are won back. God demanded that you do
this--as you know that you were told--that you care for the reformation of
Holy Church, punishing its sins and establishing good shepherds; and that
you make holy peace with your wicked sons in the best way and most
pleasing to God that could be done; so that then you might see to
uplifting with your arms the standard of the most holy Cross against the
infidels. I believe that our negligence and our not doing what could be
done--not cruelly nor quarrelsomely, but in peace and benignity--(always
punishing a man who has done wrong, not in proportion to his deserts, for
he could not endure what he deserves, but in proportion to what the sick
man is in a condition to bear)--are, perhaps, the reason why such
disaster and loss and irreverence toward Holy Church and her ministers has
befallen. And I fear that unless a remedy is found by doing what has been
left undone, our sins may deserve so much that we shall see greater
misfortunes; such I say as would grieve us much more than to lose temporal
possessions. Of all these evils and sorrows, wretched I am the cause,
through my little virtue and my great disobedience.

Most holy father, look in the light of reason and truth at your
displeasure against me, not as punishment, but as displeasure. To whom
shall I have recourse should you abandon me? Who would help me? To whom do
I flee, should you cast me out? My persecutors pursue me, and I flee to
you, and to the other sons and servants of God. Should you abandon me,
assuming displeasure and wrath against me, I will hide me in the wounds of
Christ crucified, whose Vicar you are: and I know that He will receive me,
for He wills not the death of a sinner. And, when I am received by Him,
you will not drive me out; nay, we shall abide in our own place to fight
manfully with the weapons of virtue for the sweet Bride of Christ. In her
I wish to end my life, with tears, with sweats, with sighs, giving my
blood and the marrow of my bones. And should all the world drive me out, I
will not care, reposing with plaints and great endurance on the breast of
that sweet Bride. Pardon, most holy father, all my ignorance, and the
wrong that I have done to God and to your Holiness. It is Truth that
excuses me and sets me free; Truth Eternal. Humbly I ask your benediction.

To you, dearest father (Raimondo), I say: when it is possible to you, keep
a manly heart in the presence of his Holiness, without any pain or servile
fear; remain first a while in your cell, in the presence of Mary and of
the most holy Cross, in holy and humble prayer, in true knowledge of
yourself, with living faith and will to endure; and then go (to the Pope)
in security. And do what you can for the honour of God and the salvation
of souls, to the point of death. Announce to him what I write you in this
letter as the Holy Spirit shall guide you. I say no more. Remain in the
holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.




TO URBAN VI


In March, 1378, Gregory died, and was succeeded by the Archbishop of Bari,
who took the name of Urban VI. The sensitive, cultured, vacillating
Frenchman gave place to a Neapolitan of coarse physique--a man personally
virtuous, but, as history shows us, extraordinarily harsh and violent in
disposition. "It seems," the Prior of the Island of Gorgona wrote with
alarming candour to Catherine, "that our new Christ on earth is a terrible
man."

Catherine was at Florence at the time--having been sent thither by
Gregory, who, however alienated from her personally, seems till the end to
have valued her services. The following is the first letter from her to
Urban which we possess. It is evident that she has as yet little knowledge
of the new Pope at first hand. She writes to him in much the same strain
as that in which she was accustomed to address his predecessor; only the
sense of a new hearer inspires her, after the rather dull opening of the
letter, with fresh fervour in recapitulating the sins and woes of the
Church. Possibly, also, there is a little more insistence than usual on
the plea that mercy temper justice, in the case of the rebellious Tuscan
cities. The sensible policy for such a situation could hardly be better
summed up than in her concise phrase: "Receive from a sick man what he can
give you."


In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:

Most holy and dear father in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and
slave of the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood:
with desire to see you founded upon true and perfect charity, so that,
like a good shepherd, you may lay down your life for your sheep. And
truly, most holy father, only he who is founded upon charity is ready to
die for the love of God and the salvation of souls: because he is free
from self-love. For he who abides in self-love is not ready to give his
life; and not to speak of his life, apparently he is not willing to bear
the least little pain: for he is always afraid for himself, lest he lose
his bodily life and his private consolations. So he does whatever he may
do imperfectly and corruptly, because his chief impulse, through which he
acts, is corrupt. In whatever state he may be, shepherd or subject, he
shows little virtue. But the shepherd who is established in true charity
does not do so; his every work is good and perfect, because his impulse is
absolutely one with the perfection of divine charity. Such a man as this
fears neither the devil nor his fellow-beings, but only his Creator; he
does not mind the detractions of the world, nor shames, nor insults, nor
jests, nor the criticisms of his subordinates; who take offence, and turn
to criticizing when they are reproved by their prelate. But like a manly
man, clothed in the fortitude of charity, he does not care.

Nor, therefore, does he suppress the flame of holy desire, nor cast from
him the pearl of justice, lucid and one with mercy, which he bears upon
his breast. Were justice without mercy, it would abide in the shadows of
cruelty, and would turn into injustice. And mercy without justice toward
one's subordinate would be like ointment on a wound that ought to be
cauterized: if ointment is applied without cauterizing it rots more than
it heals. But when both are joined they give life to the prelate who uses
them, and health to the subject if he is not a member of the devil,
entirely unwilling to correct himself. However, if the subject failed to
correct himself a thousand times over, the prelate ought not to give up
correcting him, and his virtue will be none the less because that wicked
man does not profit by it. In this way works the pure and clean charity of
a soul that cares for itself not for its own sake, but for God, and seeks
God for the glory and praise of His name, in so far as it sees that He is
worthy of being loved for His infinite goodness--nor seeks its neighbour
for its own sake, but for God, wishing to render him that service which it
cannot render to God. For it recognizes that He is our God, who has no
need of us. Therefore it studies with great zeal to be useful to its
neighbour, and especially to the subjects committed to it. And it does not
draw back from pursuing the salvation of their souls and bodies for any
ingratitude found in them, nor for the threats or flatteries of man; but,
in truth, clothed in the wedding garment, follows the doctrine of the
Spotless Humble Lamb, that gentle and good Shepherd who, as one enamoured,
ran for our salvation to the shameful death of the most holy Cross. The
unspeakable love which the soul has conceived for Christ crucified does
all this. Most holy father, God has placed you as a shepherd over all His
sheep who belong to the whole Christian religion; He has placed you as the
minister of the Blood of Christ crucified, whose Vicar you are; and He
placed you in a time in which wickedness abounds more among your inferiors
than it has done for a long time, both in the body of Holy Church, and in
the universal body of the Christian religion. Therefore it is extremely
necessary for you to be established in perfect charity, wearing the pearl
of justice, as I said; that you may not mind the world, nor poor people
used to evil, nor any injuries of theirs; but manfully correct them, like
a true knight and just shepherd, uprooting vices and implanting virtues,
ready to lay down your life if needs be. Sweetest father, the world cannot
bear any more; vices are so abundant, especially among those who were put
in the garden of Holy Church to be fragrant flowers, shedding the
fragrance of virtue; and we see that they abound in wretched, hateful
vices, so that they make the whole world reek! Oh me! where is the purity
of heart and perfect charity which should make the incontinent continent
by contact with them? It is quite the contrary: many a time the continent
and the pure are led by their impurities to try incontinence. Oh me! where
is the generosity of charity, and the care of souls, and distribution to
the poor and to the good of the Church, and their necessities? You know
well that men do quite the contrary. Oh me miserable! With grief I say it
--your sons nourish themselves on the wealth they receive by ministering
the Blood of Christ, and are not ashamed of being as money-changers,
playing with those most sacred anointed hands of yours, you Vicar of
Christ: without speaking of the other wretched deeds which they commit. Oh
me! where is that deep humility with which to confound that pride of
sensuality of theirs, by which in their great avarice they commit
simonies, buying benefices with gifts, or flatteries, or money, dissolute
and vain adornments, not as clerics, but worse than seculars! Oh me, sweet
my Babbo, bring us a remedy! And give refreshment to the desperate desires
of the servants of God, who die and cannot die. They wait with great
desire that you as a true shepherd should put your hand to correcting
these things, not only with words but with deeds, while the pearl of
justice, joined to mercy, shines on your breast; correcting in truth,
without any servile fear, those who nourish them at the breast of the
sweet Bride of Christ, the ministers of the Blood.

But truly, most holy father, I do not see how this can be well done if you
do not make over anew the garden of your Bride, stocking it with good
virtuous plants; taking pains to choose a troop of very holy men, in whom
you find virtue and no fear of death. Do not aim at grandeur, but let them
be shepherds who rule their flocks with zeal. And a troop of good
cardinals, who may be upright columns of yours, helping you to bear the
weight of many burdens, with divine help. Oh, how blessed will be my soul
then, when I shall see that which is hers given back to the Bride of
Christ, and those nourished at her breast regarding not their own good,
but the glory and praise of the Name of God, and feeding on the food of
souls at the table of the holy Cross. I have no question that then your
lay subjects will correct themselves--for they will not be able to help
it, constrained by the holy and pure life of the clergy. We are not, then,
to sleep over it, but manfully and without negligence to do what you can,
even unto death, for the glory and praise of the Name of God.

Next I beg you, and constrain you by the love of Christ crucified, as to
those sheep who have left the fold--I believe, for my sins--that by the
love of that Blood of which you are made minister, you delay not to
receive them in mercy, and with your benignity and holiness force their
hardness; give them the good of bringing them back into the fold, and if
they do not ask it in true and perfect humility, let your Holiness fulfil
their imperfection. Receive from a sick man what he can give you. Oh me,
oh me, have mercy on so many souls that perish! Do not consider the
scandal which occurred in this city, in which surely the devils of hell
busied themselves, to hinder the peace and quiet of souls and bodies: but
Divine Goodness saw to it that no great harm came from the great evil, but
your sons pacified themselves, and now ask of you the oil of mercy. Grant
that it seems to you, most holy father, that they do not ask it in those
conciliatory ways nor with that heartfelt distaste for the sin they
committed which they should, as it would please your Holiness to have
them--yet, oh me, do not give up! For they will make better sons than
other people. Oh me, Babbo mine, I do not want to stay here any longer! Do
with me then what you will. Show me this grace and favour, poor wretch
that I am, knocking at your door. Do not deny me the easy little things
that I ask you for your sons; so that, having made peace, you may raise
the standard of the most holy Cross. For you see well that the infidels
have come to summon you. I hope by the sweet goodness of God that He will
fill you with His burning charity, so that you shall know the loss of
souls, and how much you are bound to love them: and so you shall increase
in eager zeal to set them free from the hands of the devil, and shall seek
to heal the mystical body of Holy Church, and the body of the universal
Christian religion; and especially to reconcile your sons, winning them
with benignity, with as much use of the rod of justice as they are fit to
bear, and no more. I am certain that unless we have the virtue of charity,
this will not be done; and therefore I said that I wished to see you
established in true and perfect charity. Not that I do not believe that
you are in charity, but because we can grow in the perfection of charity
since we are always pilgrims and strangers in this life, I said that I
wished this perfection in you, that you feed it constantly with the flame
of holy desire, and shed it upon your subjects, like a good shepherd. I
beg you to do so. And I will stay, and labour till I die, in prayer and in
whatever way I can, for the honour of God and for your peace and that of
your sons.

I say no more to you. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Pardon my
presumption, most holy father; but love and grief are my excuse before
your Holiness. I ask you humbly for your benediction. Sweet Jesus, Jesus
Love.




TO HER SPIRITUAL CHILDREN IN SIENA


Catherine turned without difficulty from public cares to the needs and
problems of the little group of disciples in the restricted life of Siena.
To her eyes, there was no great nor small; the one drama was as important
as the other, since both were God's appointed schools of character. She
was, as we have already seen, wise in the lore of Christian friendship.
How thoroughly she understood the tendencies likely to appear in a limited
group of good people, bound closely together in faith and life, these
letters, among others, bear witness. Not only in religious communities,
but wherever such a group exists, similar conditions arise. The life of
the affections becomes of leading importance; too often it is unregulated,
and runs to morbid extremes; on the other hand, the peculiarly provincial
temptation to carping mutual scrutiny as well as to overwrought
sensitiveness, is sure to be at play. All her life long Catherine combated
these dangers, in the strength at once of a large mind and of a gentle
heart. The first of these letters puts in beautiful form the ideal of a
truly consecrated affection. The second repeats her familiar warning
against a critical temper, and her favourite plea for that generous
tolerance which puts the highest possible construction on one's
neighbour's conduct. Tolerance, one surmises, was to her peculiarly swift
and lofty spirit one of the most difficult among the virtues. Yet, or
rather therefore, no one has ever presented more emphatically the relief
afforded by the great permission and command, "Judge not."




TO BROTHER WILLIAM AND TO MESSER MATTEO
OF THE MISERICORDIA

AND TO BROTHER SANTI AND TO HER OTHER SONS


In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:

Dearest sons in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the
servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood, with desire
to see you bound in the bands of charity, for I consider that without this
bond we cannot please God. This is the sweet sign by which the servants
and sons of Christ are recognized. But think, my sons, that this bond must
be clean, and not spotted by self-love. If thou lovest thy Creator, love
and serve Him in so far as He is highest and eternal good, worthy of being
loved, and not for thine own profit, for that would be a mercenary love,
like a miser who loves money because of his avarice. So let your love for
your neighbour be clean. Love, love one another; you are neighbours one of
the other. But be on your guard, for if your love were founded in your own
profit or in the private affection which you might have for one another,
it would not endure, but would fail, and your soul would find itself
empty. The love which is founded in God must be of such a sort that it has
to love with regard to virtue, and inasmuch as the friend is a creature
made in the image of God. For while delight in him whom I love, or profit
from him may grow less, if one abides in God love does not fail, because
one loves with regard to virtue and the honour of God, and not to one's
own personality. I say that if one abides in God, even if virtue should
fail in him who loves, yet love does not turn away. The love of the virtue
which is not there fails to be sure; but it does not fail in so far as a
man is a creature of God, His member, bound in the mystical body of the
Holy Church. Nay, there grows within one a love made up of great and true
compassion, and with desire he brings his friend to the birth, with tears
and sighs and continual prayers in the sweet Presence of God. Now this is
the affection which Christ left to His disciples, which never lessens or
grows languid, and is not impatient for any injury it receives; there is
no spirit of criticism in it nor displeasure, because it loves the friend,
not for himself, but for God. It does not judge nor want to judge the will
of men, but the will of its Creator, which seeks and wills naught but our
sanctification. And it joys in what God permits, of whatsoever kind it be,
since it seeks naught but the honour of its Creator and the salvation of
its neighbour. Truly may we say that such men are bound in the bond of
charity with the band which held God-and-Man fast and nailed on the wood
of the most holy and sweet Cross.

But think, sons mine, that you would never reach this perfect union did
you not hold as your object Christ crucified, and follow His footsteps.
For in Him you will find this love, who has loved you by grace and not by
duty. And because He loves by grace, He has never grown languid in His
love, neither for our ingratitude nor ignorance nor pride nor vanity, but
ever persevering, even to the shameful death of the Cross, freeing us from
death and giving us life. Now so do you, my sons, learn--learn from Him.
Love, love one another, with pure and holy love, in Christ sweet Jesus. I
say no more, because I hope to see you again soon, when it shall please
the divine goodness. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet
Jesus, Jesus Love.




TO SANO DI MACO AND ALL HER OTHER SONS IN SIENA


In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:

Dearest sons in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the
servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood: with desire
to see you strong and persevering till the end of your life. For I
consider that without perseverance no one can please God, or receive the
crown of reward. He who perseveres is always strong, and fortitude makes
him persevere.

We have absolute need of the gift of fortitude, for we are besieged by
many foes. The world, with its delights and deceits; the devil, with many
vexing temptations, who lights upon the lips of men, making them say
insulting and critical things, and who often makes us lose our worldly
goods--and this he does solely to recall us from devoted charity to our
neighbour; the flesh, astir in our own senses, seeking to war against the
spirit. Yes, truly, all these foes of ours have besieged us; yet we need
feel no servile fear, because they are discomfited through the Blood of
the Spotless Lamb. We ought bravely to reply to the world and resist it,
disparaging its delights and honours, judging it to have in itself no
abiding stability whatever. It shows us long life, with youth a-blossom
and great riches; and they are all seen to be vanity, since from life we
come to death, from youth to age, from wealth to poverty; and thus we are
always running toward the goal of death. Therefore we need to open the eye
of the mind, to see how miserable he is who trusts in the world. In this
wise one will come to despise and hate what first he loved. To the wiles
of the devil we can reply manfully, seeing his weakness; for he can
conquer no one who does not wish to be conquered. One can reply to him
then with lively faith and hope, and with holy hatred of one's self. For
in such hate one will become patient toward every tempting vexation and
tribulation of the world, and will bear these things with true patience,
from what side soever they come, if one shall hate one's own fleshliness
and love to abide on the Cross with Christ crucified.

From living faith one will derive a will in accord with that of God, and
will quench in heart and mind the human instinct of judging. The will of
God alone shall judge, which seeks and wills naught but our
sanctification. In this wise one is not shocked at his neighbour and does
not criticize him. Nor does he pass judgment on a man who talks against
him: he condemns himself alone, seeing that it is the will of God which
permits such men to vex him for his good. Ah, how blessed is the soul
which clothes itself in a judgment so gentle! He does not condemn the
servants of this world who do him injury; nor does he condemn the servants
of God, wishing to drive them in his own way, as many presumptuous, proud
men do, who under cloak of the honour of God and the salvation of souls,
are shocked by the servants of God, and assume a critical attitude under
cover of this cloak, saying: "Such words do not please me." And so a man
becomes disturbed in himself, and also makes others disturbed with his
tongue, claiming that he speaks through the force of love--and so he
thinks he does. But if he will open his eyes, he will find the serpent of
presumption under a false aspect, which plays the judge, judging in its
own fashion, and not according to the mysteries and the holy and diverse
ways in which God works with His creatures. Let human pride be ashamed,
and consent to see that in the House of the Eternal Father are many
mansions. Let it not seek to impose a rule upon the Holy Spirit: for He is
the Rule itself, Giver of the Rule: nor let it measure Him who cannot be
measured. The true servant of God, arrayed in His highest eternal will,
will not do thus; nay, he will hold in reverence the ways and deeds and
habits of God's servants, since he judges them fixed not by man, but by
God. For, just because things are not pleasing to us and do not go
according to our habits, we ought to be predisposed to believe that they
are pleasing to God. We ought not to judge anything at all, nor can we,
except what is manifest and open sin. And even this the soul enamoured of
God and lost to itself does not assume to judge, except in displeasure for
the sin and wrong done to God; and with great compassion for the soul of
him who sins, eagerly willing to give itself to any torture for the
salvation of that soul.

Now I summon you to this perfection, dearest sons; do you study with true
and holy zeal to acquire it. And reflect that every stage in perfection
which you reach will advance you in this holy and true judgment, free from
offence or pain. So, on the contrary, false judgment betrays you into
every sort of pain, and fault-finding and ruinous faithlessness toward the
servants of God. All this proceeds from the personal passion and rooted
pride which impels us to judge the will of our fellow-man. So such a man
is always looking back, and does not persevere in gracious love of his
neighbour, and never has strong and persevering love. Nay, his is like the
imperfect love felt by the disciples of Christ before the Passion; for
they loved Him, rejoicing much in His presence; but because their love was
not founded in truth, but pleasure and self-indulgence were in it, it
failed when His presence was taken away; and they did not know how to bear
pain with Christ, but fled in fear. Beware, beware, lest this happen to
you. You rejoice much in the presence of a friend, and in absence you make
a fire of straw; for when the presence is taken away, every little wind
and rain quenches it, and nothing remains except the black smoke of a dark
conscience. All this happens because we have made ourselves judges of the
will of our fellows, and the habits and ways of the servants of God, not
according to His sweet will. Now no more thus, for love of Christ
crucified! but be faithful sons, strong and persevering in Christ sweet
Jesus. Thus shall you discomfit the temptation of the devil, and the words
which he says, lighting on the lips of men.

John Crace digests A Question of Upbringing by Anthony Powell

My English teacher is wearing a barrister's wig. He turns and points towards me as I sit trembling in the dock. "Members of the jury, I put it to you that this man, Tom Robinson, is innocent," he says, rather lugubriously. I want to protest. I want to shout that no, I am not Tom Robinson, but yes, I am innocent! But the words won't come out.

Then I wake up. It's another literary dream – one that's troubled me ever since I studied Harper Lee's To Kill a Mockingbird for GCSE.

Most of the time I'm disappointed to leave my literary dreams, waking to realise that I'm not really ensconced with with the boozing Welsh pensioners from Kingsley Amis's The Old Devils or haven't really been thrashing Harry Potter's Quidditch team. I remember with fondness a skiing trip with William Shakespeare and the delightful discovery that Don DeLillo was serving drinks behind the bar in my local pub.

It's not all sunshine, though. Tom Wolfe once ruined a trip to New York, shouting at me across Fifth Avenue: "You're not even familiar with my work – get outta town, asshole!" But that's nothing on Howard Jacobson. I spent a summer discovering his novels during my waking hours and bumping into him in my sleep. I'd see him in a local restaurant and tell him how much I was enjoying his novels. "Oh right," he'd snap, "that old chestnut, huh?" When I met him for real last year he was, in fact, charm personified. I didn't tell him about the dreams.

But enough about my subconscious, what about yours? It's Friday: forget about work and tell me all about your literary dreams. Don't hold back – it's not like we'll read anything into it.

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