The Sermons of Johannes Tauler · 98 of 124

Sermon for the Feast of St. Stephen

Amen, amen I say to you, unless the grain of wheat falling into the ground die, Itself remaineth alone. But if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit — John xii, 24, 25.

We understand by the grain of wheat our Lord Jesus Christ Himself, Who by His death brought much fruit to all mankind, if men will but reign with Him, and if above all they are willing to live a dying life after His example. That love may indeed be called a dying love, by which a man for the love of God renouncing all gratification of the senses, all pleasures of nature, finally gives up his own will. As often as he dies to pleasure, so often does he offer his death to God, and receives living fruit in return. In so far as a man dies to himself and goes away from himself, so far does he enter into our Lord God, who is life.

Mark well, children, how this dying life is divided into three degrees. The first degree is made up of those who are moved by fear of hell and hope of heaven, mingled with some love of God: their aim is to avoid mortal sin. The love of God can rarely do its work in their souls except by meditation on hell or heaven. As to dying to natural and worldly joys, they are shocked at the very thought of it, nor do they dream of manfully assaulting their natural defects. They have little faith in the tender sentiments that flow from entire detachment from creatures: they only think of saving their skin from the whip of penance and mortification. They are self-seekers and self-lovers, looking everywhere for fleshly gratification and the vanities of the world, frightened at all bodily discomfort. Their dread even of sin comes from fear of hell fire together with the desire of enjoying heaven. Being young in God's love, they appreciate it only as a joyful love, especially as a gift whereby they shall escape hell and gain heaven. Do they meditate with much sympathy on our Lord's passion? Are they grateful to Him for His bitter death and their redemption? All this is much rather from the emotional thoughts about His bodily sufferings for their sakes, than from real appreciation that by his death he practised the highest perfection of all virtues: they dwell little upon His deep humility, intense love, and agony of sympathy for our sad lot, all in the highest degree of excellence, all to the perfect glory and praise of His Father.

Such people would begin to die to self, were they not so full of selflove: they cannot yet appreciate what is meant by being content with God alone, and to give oneself up totally to Him. Although they believe that God does all things for the best, they yet feel great bitterness in resigning themselves to His Providence; and they deem it hard that Jesus Christ should have suffered so much and should lead His followers along the same sad way of suffering. After a while they may really begin to lead a dying life, but even then they are not inclined to follow it to perfection; they addict themselves zealously to fasting, watching and other things painful to nature, little knowing what perpection means. They believe that God most esteems what is thus outwardly painful. When they find that they can suffer all this willingly, they fancy that they have attained to the highest degree of perfection. Presently they sit in judgment on all other men. They condemn other men who are really far more perfect than they are — because they do not practise external austerities, calling them rude names, saying that they know nothing of the spiritual life. Be sure to agree with them, or they will say you have got a false spirituality — everybody must agree with them or suffer condemnation. Meanwhile all that they do, all that they are, is theirs in a selfish pride of ownership: this it is that hinders their entire submission to our Lord in a universal love.

And they fail in brotherly love. They do not love all men, good and bad. Their hearts are divided, loving some and failing to love others. This causes interior unrest. In fact they are essentially self-seekers: self is their thought and self is their love. Toward their fellow ChrisV

self, and are never united to any one in the bonds of wise and Christian affection.

That divine love for God and men which they should cherish fails them. They may seem to obey God’s law and to be submissive to holy Church, but the law of love they do not hold to. Necessity and fear, these inspire their actions rather than deep rooted love. And since they are inwardly untrue to God, so can they not confide in Him. Their consciousness of imperfect motives — which God causes in their souls — hinders their love of Him. Hence their life-long distress, for they are full of dread, agitation, and pitiable misery. On the one hand they gaze at eternal happiness, and they dread that they will never have it; on the other hand, hell yawns open, and they tremble lest they shall go there. Nor can all their pious devotions drive out this terror of hell, so long as they have not died to self. The greater their self love, the greater their terror of hell. And yet if God our Lord does not give them their own way, they complain against Him; and they weep and sigh at any little contradiction. They spend hours in silly talk, are fond of fabulous legends, and they make their own sorrows a topic of endless conversation. They act and talk as if they had been unjustly dealt with by heaven. They reckon their works, however trifling in reality, to be of great actual merit, and take for granted God owes them a high regard. But if later on our Lord will enlighten them, they will see that they have been like some silly fool, who prizes his walking stick, as much as a noble Knight does his splendid costly sword.

All these men stand on the lowest step of the dying life. And if they do not further mortify themselves, do not better learn what is meant by a dying life, then it is to be feared that they will slip back from even this lowest place. May God guard them from this greater folly and wickedness. But now to save them God grants them great spiritual joy, and by this they are heartened to endure all the severity of penitential works. But when this comes they again dream that they are guided by truer principles, and are granted relief in the rightlydirected practise of good works and in a well-ordered life, but especially by properly made meditation cm the passion of our Lord Jesus Christ.

The second degree of the dying life of the grain of wheat, is that of those interior touches and tastes of grace as urge a man onward tu die more and more to self. In this state he longs with all his soul’s powers to advance in perfection. But what if this sweet interior drawing begins to fail him? He knows that he is yet far from perfection., but, alas, he is not content to sit down and wait in all poverty of spirit. He falls into a kind of mistrust of God; he thinks God has forgotten him; he says that God will no longer help him along the road to perfection. He continually debates with himself about doing this or leaving off that, hoping thereby for some relief. If our Lord shows him a kindly face, then he feels right with God: he instantly feels so rich that he dreams he will never again be poor. If he is only free from trials, he enjoys God as if he were His particular favorite: — God is now going to stand by him in all tribulation and to enrich him with all virtues.

But our loving Lord knows how easily he may fall and how deeply, if he is left to this self-assurance. Our Lord knows that to lead him out of his present state of imperfection — and how gladly would He do it! — is to withdraw His perceptible and sensible favors from him for a time. That soul is too deeply involved in self love, in admiration of his own perfections, in the thought of his wisdom and holiness and

Then it is that for the first time he perceives that the blessed God had very rightly deprived him of sensible graces, for he had thought himself to be something: how clearly he now sees that he is nothing. He had always sought honor among his friends, and if his good name were assailed he had always fought for it. He prized his good name as a man does his well-loved wife. If anyone said a word against him, he looked on him as an impugner of the known truth. He longed to be praised for holiness as a plant yearns for the summer showers. He seemed to think that men’s praises came from true and virtuous hearts and were messages from God. He had wandered so far away from truth, that to find it he never looked into himself. No matter how plain his defects, he esteemed himself actually to be what men said he was — he knew no other way of rating himself.

Now it is to be noted, that any man who will shake off this gross delusion, who will rise out of this unmortified state, must consider three things. First, has he earnestly labored to accept willingly all punishments inflicted on him, all backbiting, all disgrace — to gladly suffer it all for the sake of advancing in virtue? Has he bowed down humbly under all such crosses? Second, how much has he praised and thanked God for all this shame, tribulation and punishment? How kindly has he borne with his persecutors, how much real friendship has he shown them, how much affection has he had in his inmost soul for those who have done him harm? Third, has he in all sincerity and with a thankful heart, prayed to God for the welfare of his tormentors? If he has failed in these three tests, if he knows his soul to be void of these sentiments, if he feels hard and bitter in his trials, then he may be entirely sure that he lives a false life. He is still dependent on the praises of men for his peace of soul. He still lingers in a state of spiritual pride and immortification — he has not yet attained to the second degree of the dying life.

But see how our good God has the heart of a tender mother, full of pity for her wayward child; or, again, how like a skilful physician, who cures an unwilling patient by the hard medicine of letting him suffer bitter pain, till he gives up and accepts the treatment needed for perfect recovery. So does God often allow such a man to fall, so that he may at last learn and confess his own helplessness. Now there

O Qod, he exclaims, “Why hast Thou forgotten me? And why go I mourning, whilst my enemy afflicteth me?” (Ps. xli, 10).

When at last from the sole of his feet to the top of his head, he is tormented; when he is overwhelmed with his vileness in comparison with Qod’s holiness; when he is stricken with awful terror at finding out his rebellousness against Qod: then he is beside himself with the Bense of his unworthiness. Misery rushes upon him and overthrows him. The result is that he finally yields to his divine guide; he gives himself up to suffer whatever Qod may inflict on him. He laments his sad lot with many tears, borrowing the words of holy scripture, and confesses that his sins outnumber the sands of the seashore; that he is unworthy to raise his eye toward heaven; that the wrath of the Most High is enkindled against him. If it happens that his tears are dried up, it is only to suffer a more interior anguish. On the one hand he longs to be trampled under foot of all men and totally to die to self; and yet he feels a secret uprising of very arrogant pride, and longs to assert himself over all. This inner conflict is exceedingly bitter. And he now so despises himself that he is tempted to think that it would be no dishonor to Qod if he killed himself. I am really of opinion that this trial sometimes enfeebles a man’s mental faculties; and that he had rather suffer death than endure it any longer — if such were not against Qod’s honor. Nevertheless all this time he feels that Qod’s grace is yet within him. And he feels confident that in all his strange sorrows and joys and in all that may happen to him in future, he does not and will not, deliberately sin against Qod.

Sometimes the grace of tears is again accorded him, and he cries out to Qod: “Arise, why steepest thou, O Lord? Arise, and cast us not off to the end” (Ps. xliii, 23) . He asks Qod why He has dried up the fountains of His mercy. He invokes all the blessed angels and saints of heaven and appeals to them for pity. To the heavens he cries out: Why are you turned to brass against me? And to the earth: Why art thou hard as iron against me? He calls on the very stones to be

Now thus it is that God’s work goes on in this second degree of the dying life, cleansing the soul thoroughly, leading it round and round through fire and water. It lasts until all self-importance is driven out of the remotest corners of the spirit. The soul at last is fully disgraced in its own eyes. It condemns itself with all sincerity. It falls so low in its own esteem as never again to be able to return to self-delusion. It now frankly confesses its own feebleness, past and present. Whatever good anyone may say of it, or whatever graces God may grant it, it will never again claim any merit. One thing alone will it say of itself: I am a man all full of faults. Then has such a man reached the height of this degree, and stands not far from the door of a great grace — the bridal chamber of the heavenly Spouse, who is our Lord Jesus Christ. When the day of his death comes he will receive a joyous welcome from our Lord. But to reach this degree of the dying life, as we have seen, is a severe ordeal.

We know that little trees sink short roots into the earth: we mean by this that souls little in their own eyes, really humble hearts, are not much attached to this world’s life; their thoughts and desires are rooted deep in heaven. These readily give up to God’s decree of a dying life. Not so the prouder spirits, the tall trees deep rooted in love of this world. They hold on fast and long to their attachments to transitory things. Such is the case with men who are the great ones of the earth. Many a battle must they fight against God and always lose, many a death must they die to self, ere they come to this degree of the dying life. All usurpation of God’s rights, all excess of spirit must be broken up, and they must languish long in the depths of painful humiliation. At last the time comes when the Holy Ghost finds the way cleared along which He shall draw the soul to Himself; as we have above described.

The third degree of the dying life of the grain of wheat, belongs only to those chosen souls who with earnest purpose struggle steadfastly forward towards perfection. Their life is one of mingled joy a soul experiences in this degree of the dying life, is a clear contemplative knowledge of Christ, and an overpowering enjoyment of Him: into this state the Holy Ghost lifts the soul, in order to give it a foretaste of all the perfect bliss that it hopes to possess with Christ in eternal life. The second joy is a participation in the happiness Christ enjoys as a man, and which the soul hopes to possess perfectly in heaven as a member of Christ and coheir of his bliss. Now although this man cannot comprehend the abyss of God’s being, nevertheless he Is.absorbed in its joys. For he knows full well His unspeakable mercies in all their supremacy; and he feels that it is good for him to be overwhelmed with the mystery of God and not to be able to comprehend His majesty. He is glad in his dying to self to bow down in lowly reverence under God.

To this state a man can never come, except when his will has been made one with God in entire self-denial, in perfect self-abnegation. Self-love in every form and all self-will are vanquished by the inpouring of the Holy Ghost. And this conquest is so perfect that the Holy Ghost Himself appears to have become this man’s will and to be made his power of loving; he can resemble himself and love himself no longer. Yea, even heaven is now longed for purely for the honor of God, and because Christ has merited it for him: God will give it to him as to one of his children. In this degree of the dying life a man loves all things in right order: God over all, then the blessed humanity of

Christ, after that the beloved mother of Christ, and then every one of the saints in his own grade of holiness, all according to the divine gifts. And as this glorious company enters his mind, he sits down in the lowest place at the Bridegroom’s marriage feast; but when the King who had invited him enters and sees him there, He says to him: '“Friend, go up higher” (Luke xiv, 10).

And now this happens: he is endowed with a new life, he is enlightened with new brightness. He manifestly beholds the secret of fall again. And, besides, he now recognizes and owns a deeper wickedness: namely, that after his conversion he had often felt in a hidden way pained at the thought that he should never again be allowed the joy of sinning. This fills his very life with anguish and repentance, realizing that he is still tainted with some remains of his former weaknesses. But even so he can and does feel very happy,' knowing that God’s goodness so perfectly meets his necessities and remedies them; and that on account of this alternating distress and happiness, his life may be called in very truth a dying life; that it is conformed to the life of our Lord Jesus Christ, who from beginning to end of His sojourn on earth experienced an incessant change of sorrow and joy.

It was the Son of God’s sorrow, that He came down upon this earth from the heavenly throne; His joy, that He was not separated from the glory of His Father. Sorrow, that He was the Son of Man; joy, that He was and still remained the Son of God. Sorrow, that He took the form of a slave. Joy, that He was and remained the sovereign Lord of all. Sorrow, that in His humanity He was subject to death and did actually die on the cross. Joy, that He was superior to death in His God-head. Sorrow, that He was born of a mortal mother. Joy, in His eternal generation, in the bosom of God. Sorrow, that He was of time. Joy, that He was before all time and eternal. Sorrow, that being the divine Word He was yet made flesh and dwelt amongst us. Joy, that He was in the beginning with God and was God. Sorrow, that like a common sinner He was baptized by John in the Jordan. Joy, that the heavenly Father’s voice proclaimed Him His beloved Son in whom He was well pleased. Sorrow, that He was tempted by the devil. Joy, that angels came and ministered to Him. Sorrow, that He often suffered hunger and thirst. Joy, that He is Himself the food of men and angels. Sorrow, that He was often wearied with labor. Joy, that He is the sweet repose of all loving hearts and all

Sorrow, that He must beg a drink of water from the Samaritan woman at the well. Joy, that He gave the same woman living water to drink that she might never thirst again. Sorrow, that He must journey across the water in a ship. Joy, that when He willed it He walked over the waves dryshod. Sorrow, that with Martha and Mary He wept over Lazarus dead. Joy, that He waked Lazarus from the dead and restored him to his sisters. Sorrow, that He was fastened to a cross with nails. Joy, that from the cross he promised paradise to a robber. Sorrow, that He was tortured with thirst on the cross. Joy, that by His dying thirst He saved His elect from eternal thirst. Sorrow, that he cried: “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?” (Matt, xxvii, 46). Joy, that with this cry of desolation He should comfort all sorrowful men. Sorrow, that He gave up the ghost and died and than was buried. Joy, that on the third day He rose again from the dead with a body all glorified.

Thus was the whole life of Jesus from the crib to the cross mingled of sorrow and joy. And this very life of His He has left as a legacy to His followers in this world, to all who would choose to lead a dying life; so that thereby they might ever be mindful of Him, and walk from the cradle to the grave as He walked. May God grant us that privilege. Amen.