Mortification is not a concept much in favour these days. To some, it is a reminder of the days when bodily austerities were taken to extremes: the taking of the discipline, or very severe fasts. These practices were once the norm, but today, the business of mortification is, if practised at all, somewhat less punishing. But mortification is indeed necessary, for the opposite is self-indulgence.

St Philip, practised the means of mortification, customary in his day, and reminded his disciples:

Without mortification nothing can be done. (30 July)

Furthermore, he would add, “where there is no great mortification there is no great sanctity.” (4 Nov)  All the same, the kind of mortification he sought to encourage was ‘interior’ rather than corporal. He said: “Oh, how I like those little mortifications that are seen by nobody, such as rising a quarter of an hour sooner, rising for a little while in the night to pray!” You may recall the story of Philip’s friend, Alberto, who asked his permission to wear a hair-shirt, which permission the saint denied him, telling him that he could do so only if he wore it over his clothing. This Alberto did, enduring the endless ribbing of his friends and others, who teased him mercilessly as he cheerfully went about Rome, clad in his weird attire. “Look, here comes Berto of the hair-shirt!”

A phrase Philip was fond of repeating to his friends (which he had taken from Thomas Kempis) was Amare nesciri — “to love to be to unknown.” This injunction lies at the heart of his sense of mortification. For him, the important thing was not to punish the body through long fasts and arduous asceticism. Of far greater value was the mortification of the razionale, that proud and self-important reason common to us all. How often would he say to his penitents, “The sanctity of a man lies in the breadth of three fingers,” (5 Nov) and pointedly lay those fingers on his forehead. You can see this gesture illustrated in the mural above the sacristy door in our church.

The peculiar practical jokes, the daily confessions, the severe and thankless workload he imposed on his sons — everything tended to mortify the intellect and cultivate humility, which was the virtue most dear to him. And for St. Philip, humility found its greatest expression in “loving to be unknown.”

Another saying, which comes to us through his disciple Fr Pietro Consolini, is Vita communis, mortificatio maxima (Community life is the greatest mortification). This is why the saint chose not to leave his Oratorians with any mortifications or penances other than those prescribed by the Church. He understood that living with others brings with it its own challenges and opportunities to practice interior mortification, by suffering with patience and goodwill, the difficulties which will inevitably arise in everyday life. In Philip’s view, it was not necessary to add anything more than that.

St Philip would have us love to be unknown and to be humble, because this ultimately draws us closer to Christ, whose own teaching is reflected in that of our saint. We learn not to bite back or bridle at insults, or to seek the highest or most influential positions. We learn not to impose our will, or to insist on having our own way, nor to be too pleased with ourselves when we have done some good. This is humility; this is love. This is the mortification advocated by our Holy Father St Philip and each day, the Lord gives us ample opportunity to live it.

We are celebrating the launch of our new edition of St Philip’s Maxims this summer by exploring some of those maxims together each week.

Occassionally, some of St Philip’s advice gets split over multiple days in the collection of his Maxims, so that we can take our time to understand each part of what he says. This week’s maxims cover the topic of vain-glory:

We may distinguish three kinds of vain-glory; the first we may call mistress; that is, when vain-glory goes before our works, and we work for the sake of it: the second we may call companion; that is, when a man does not do a work for the sake of vain-glory, but feels complacency in doing it: the third we may call servant; that is, when vain-glory rises in our work, but we instantly repress it. Above all things never let vain-glory be mistress. (23 July)

When vain-glory is companion, it does not take away our merit; but perfection requires that it should be servant. (24 July)

This “vain-glory” is a kind of vanity. It is often what causes us to do good things for the wrong reasons. It is the temptation to say “Look at me, aren’t I holy?” Christ holds the Pharisees up for us as a warning against this kind of behaviour:

Beware of practicing your piety before men in order to be seen by them; for then you will have no reward from your Father who is in heaven. Thus, when you give alms, sound no trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, that they may be praised by men. Truly, I say to you, they have their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

And when you pray, you must not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, that they may be seen by men. Truly, I say to you, they have their reward. But when you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you.

And when you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces that their fasting may be seen by men. Truly, I say to you, they have their reward. But when you fast, anoint your head and wash your face, that your fasting may not be seen by men but by your Father who is in secret; and your Father who sees in secret will reward you. (Matthew 6:1–6, 6–18)

There is a great danger that if we do good things just so that others see us doing good, we might think it best not to do them at all. If we are very aware that people see us spending time in prayer or serving the homeless, we might think we should stop those things, to prevent any temptations to pride and vanity from arising.

This, of course, is not what we should do. But what if it is impossible for us to do all these good things in secret, as Christ tells us too? There are some good things we have to do that we can’t hide, not matter how much we might like to.

St Philip, as ever, brings some practical common sense to the problem. We certainly shouldn’t do good purely for the sake of the praise and attention of others. But if we are trying to do work for the love of God and neighbour, and this vain-glory appears in the process as “companion”, we shouldn’t let that put us off our good intentions. As he says, “It does not take away our merit.” But with time, we should work to overcome even these tendencies, so that we can work without thought of what people think about us, instantly repressing the temptation.

Cesare Baronio, one of St Philip’s first disciples, first Father of the Oratory and later Cardinal, trained himself so well in faighting vain-glory that not only was he happy to have his good works go unnoticed, he delighted when others took the credit for things he had done. It is possible to put St Philip’s advice into practice, it just might take us a little time.

We are celebrating the launch of our new edition of St Philip’s Maxims this summer by exploring some of those maxims together each week.

My apologies for the title, which I could not resist. St Philip’s maxim for today is:

Nothing is more dangerous for beginners in the spiritual life than to wish to play the master, and so guide and convert others.

We often speak of the phenomenon of the “zeal of the convert” which itself is no bad thing at all. It is such an encouragement for those of us who have been Catholics for a long time to see others come to the faith and be on fire with real love for their newfound God. They have found that city of God on the hilltop of the Church which cannot be hidden, that light of Faith which cannot be placed under cover. We are very blessed in the large number of converts who come to the Church here each year and who become such pillars in the life of our community. They bring new perspectives and experiences, but also indeed that great and burning love for Christ which helps us all to rekindle anew our commitment to holiness and our own impression of the reality of our Faith.

There can sometimes, whether in terms of the Faith or the spiritual life in general, be the danger of wishing to run before we can walk. Our Faith is tried in the furnace of perseverance and this is what St Philip realised. This is why the Fathers and Brothers pray each day in Oratory for the gift of perseverance. At the beginning we take baby steps — we need to be held and supported, nourished and guided if we are to run the race for that imperishable crown. We do see in the Church today the danger of self-appointed “experts” and “influencers” who have ideas and opinions on every aspect of the Faith, whilst they seem to have very little grasp of what is really central to living Catholicism. It is not a good thing to proclaim ourselves experts if we can name every cardinal and cite Church documents, but still remain unmoved by the plight of the neighbour we are called to love after the pattern of Christ. We are not, any of us, called to become masters, but to become servants and friends — of God and of our neighbour. We must never seek to point to ourselves, but rather only to Christ. To “love to be unknown” as the great hallmark of Oratorian spirituality has it — “to love to be unknown” so that Christ can be known.

Hence the maxim of St Philip for 18 July:

Beginners should look after their own conversion and be humble, lest they should fancy they had done some great thing, and so should fall into pride.

We cannot give what we do not have. If we really are embarked upon the path of conversion and holiness then others will come to Christ and Church simply because of the influence that our life will have on others. This is what was true for Saint Philip — he sought to bring others to conversion through the influence he could have upon them, through the friendship he made with them, and by his own example — particularly of humility — to bring them to God and to holiness. St John Henry Newman our Cardinal wrote: “It would seem, in fact, that influence, whether secret or open, is the main driving force of the Oratory.”

What influence do we have upon others then — by our conversation, by the way we treat them, what sort of idea do we give them of how a Christian lives by the conduct of our lives? And if we are already adept at making friends and influencing people — do we make them friends of Christ and bring them under his influence? Our Lady is the great model in this: “My soul magnifies the Lord.” For us, who probably always feel as though we are just beginners in the spiritual life, it is first to ask what influence we allow God to have upon us, upon our lives. If he is that influence, that overriding, all consuming force that influences all we are — as he must be — then this alone will draw others to ask why we live differently, and please God, draw them to him who sets the path to Heaven before us.

We are celebrating the launch of our new edition of St Philip’s Maxims this summer by exploring some of those maxims together each week.