Pius XII on Bernard of Clairvaux

Fifty years ago this past May, the last Pope worthy of the title, Pius XII, issued a beautiful encyclical on one of the outstanding figures of Christendom, Bernard of Clairvaux, on the 800th anniversary of his death. Bernard’s great teachings about life as lived toward God and in God, quoted by the Pope at length, along with his own commentary, breathe a spirit that is as far removed as is possible to imagine from the statements and encyclicals that have endlessly issued from the current Pope, with his dreary modernist ideology of “rights” and “inclusion” and the “human person.” In the midst of the sins and troubles that beset us so terribly at this moment, with mass murdering enemies from an alien civilization on one side (whom our leaders refuse to identify as enemies), and with our own civilization’s ever-growing atheism and nihilism (as symbolized by Nietzsche) on the other, these words may bring guidance and, yes, comfort in the true sense of the word.

Excerpts from Encyclical of Pope Pius XII

DOCTOR MELLIFLUUS
ON SAINT BERNARD OF CLAIRVAUX,
THE LAST OF THE FATHERS

promulgated on 24 May 1953

9. It is a pleasure, Venerable Brethren, for the edification of us all, to quote from his books some beautiful extracts from this mystical teaching: “We have taught that every soul, even though weighed down with sins, ensnared in vice, caught in the allurements of the passions, held captive in exile, and imprisoned in the body … even, I say, though it be thus damned and in despair, can find within itself not only reasons for yearning for the hope of pardon and the hope of mercy, but also for making bold to aspire to the nuptials of the Word, not hesitating to establish a covenant of union with God, and not being ashamed to carry the sweet yoke of love along with the King of the Angels. What will the soul not dare with Him whose marvelous image it sees within itself, and whose striking likeness it recognizes in itself?” “By this likeness of charity … the soul is wedded to the Word, when, namely, loving even as she is loved, she shows herself, in her will, likened to Him to Whom she is already likened in her nature. Therefore, if she loves Him perfectly, she has become His bride. What can be more sweet than such a likeness? What can be more desirable than this love, whereby thou art enabled of thyself to draw nigh with confidence to the Word, to cleave to Him steadfastly, to question Him familiarly, and to consult Him in all thy doubts, as daring in thy desires as thou art receptive in thy understanding? This is in truth the alliance of holy and spiritual wedlock. Nay, it is saying too little to call it an alliance: it is rather an embrace. Surely we have then a spiritual embrace when the same likes and the same dislikes make of two one spirit. Nor is there any occasion to fear lest the inequality of the persons should cause some defect in the harmony of wills, since love knows nothing of reverence. Love means an exercise of affection, not a showing of honor…. Love is all sufficient for itself. Whithersoever love comes, it keeps under and holds captive to itself all the other affections. Consequently, the soul that loves, simply loves and knows nothing else except to love.”

31. And here it is well, Venerable Brethren, to bid you all consider a page in praise of Mary than which there is perhaps none more beautiful, more moving, more apt to excite love for her, more useful to stir devotion and to inspire imitation of her virtuous example: “Mary … is interpreted to mean ‘Star of the Sea.’ This admirably befits the Virgin Mother…. She, I say, is that shining and brilliant star, so much needed, set in place above life’s great and spacious sea, glittering with merits, all aglow with examples for our imitation. Oh, whosoever thou art that perceiveth thyself during this mortal existence to be rather drifting in treacherous waters, at the mercy of the winds and the waves, than walking on firm ground, turn not away thine eyes from the splendor of this guiding star, unless thou wish to be submerged by the storm! When the storms to temptation burst upon thee, when thou seest thyself driven upon the rocks of tribulation, look at the star, call upon Mary. When buffeted by the billows of pride, or ambition, or hatred, or jealousy, look at the star, call upon Mary. Should anger, or avarice, or fleshly desire violently assail the frail vessel of thy soul, look at the star, call upon Mary. If troubled on account of the heinousness of thy sins, distressed at the filthy state of thy conscience, and terrified at the thought of the awful judgment to come, thou art beginning to sink into the bottomless gulf of sadness and to be swallowed in the abyss of despair, then think of Mary. In dangers, in doubts, in difficulties, think of Mary, call upon Mary. Let not her name leave thy lips, never suffer it to leave thy heart. And that thou mayest more surely obtain the assistance of her prayer, see that thou dost walk in her footsteps. With her for guide, thou shalt never go astray; whilst invoking her, thou shalt never lose heart; so long as she is in thy mind, thou shalt not be deceived; whilst she holds thy hand, thou canst not fall; under her protection, thou hast nothing to fear; if she walks before thee, thou shalt not grow weary; if she shows thee favor, thou shalt reach the goal.”

32. We can think of no better way to conclude this Encyclical Letter than in the words of the “Doctor Mellifluus” to invite all to be more and more devout to the loving Mother of God, and each in his respective state in life to strive to imitate her exalted virtues. If at the beginning of the twelfth century grave dangers threatened the Church and human society, the perils besetting our own age are hardly less formidable. The Catholic faith, supreme solace of mankind, often languishes in souls, and in many regions and countries is even subjected to the bitterest public attacks. With the Christian religion either neglected or cruelly destroyed, morals, both public and private, clearly stray from the straight way, and, following the tortuous path of error, end miserably in vice.

34. A certain restlessness, anxiety and fear have invaded the minds of men. It is indeed to be greatly feared that if the light of the Gospel gradually fades and wanes in the minds of many, or if—what is even worse,—they utterly reject it, the very foundations of civil and domestic society will collapse, and more evil times will unhappily result.

35. Therefore, as the Doctor of Clairvaux sought and obtained from the Virgin Mother Mary help for the troubles of his times, let us all through the same great devotion and prayer so strive to move our divine Mother, that she will obtain from God timely relief from these grave evils which are either already upon us or may yet befall, and that she who is at once kind and most powerful, will, by the help of God, grant that the true, lasting, and fruitful peace of the Church may at last dawn on all nations and peoples.


Posted by Lawrence Auster at November 16, 2003 09:05 PM | Send
    
Comments

Stirring words indeed. Thanks for this, Mr. Auster.

I wonder, however, if you are too harsh in judging John Paul II. Modern in his thinking he may well be, but his power to inspire lies not in his intellect but in his _example_; as when millions of people gather in Toronto or Mexico City or Krakow to get a glimpse of a drolling old cripple of a man.

Posted by: Paul Cella on November 16, 2003 11:27 PM

That may be. His enormous gifts and devoutness are undeniable. But, in my view, his preaching has been a disaster for Christianity, draining it of its substance and turning it into an idea directed at that terminal abstraction, the “human person.” Brrr! Yet he’s now part of a well-established modern tradition: a figure who is thought of as extremely conservative, and is even hated as such (think George W.), but who is in fact advancing liberalism and further destroying the substance of our civilization.

Posted by: Lawrence Auster on November 16, 2003 11:42 PM

Bless Mr. Auster for the quotation.

Posted by: P Murgos on November 16, 2003 11:51 PM

Pope John Paul II is a man of his time, the 20th Century of insane ideologies. He had enough faith not to fall for Communism and Nazism, but he was unable to resist intellectually fashionable Modernism. A Vatican II peritus, it is not surprising that he has done what he has. His pontificate has been one of galloping liberalism; Mr. Auster is right to note the irony of anyone’s labelling John Paul II a conservative.

While I believe his pontificate has harmed the Roman Catholic Church in ways that are not offset by his global pep rallies and the cult of his person that no other Pope has cultivated, John Paul II could have been far worse. We Catholics now have communion in the hand and standing up, lay servers, execrable vernacular liturgies, saccharine pop song “hymns,” altar girls and hideous concrete and glass box-churches stripped of sacred ornament. Yet we still have firm teaching on the meaning of the Sacraments, the sacredness of life, priestly celibacy and the immorality of homosexuality (even though some of our shepherds fail, we do not say they are right in their failings), a male priesthood and other things. Although he dare not indulge in it himself, John Paul II has allowed us traditionalists to have the ancient Mass (although he has not done much to make his bishops heed his dictates about it). So in some important matters the Pope has held fast; perhaps it is the Holy Ghost that we believe preserves the Magisterium free from irremediable error that is restraining our philosopher-Pope from following his Modernist predilections to their illogical conclusions. None of that is to excuse John Paul II, who has been almost reckless with the Faith of the Church he is supposed to safeguard.

It is harder to excuse the actions of Popes John XXIII and Paul VI around the time of the Second Vatican Council and (in Pope Paul’s case) after. John XXIII called an unnecessary and faddish council, fudged what its mandate and authority were, and let Modernist academic theologians high-jack it. Paul VI did nothing to restrain to restrain the theological high-jackers at and after Vatican II, and permitted Faith-eroding novelties that went far beyond anything Vatican II called for. There is ample evidence, from Paul VI’s own words, that he was well aware of the dangers as early as the mid-1960s, yet until his death in 1978, he offered no guidance or effective resistance. What were these men, sons of an older and somewhat saner era, thinking?

Mr. Auster’s characterization of Pius XII as the last Pope worthy of the title is not far from the truth. Don’t let James Carroll, Garry Wills or Daniel Goldhagen hear you say it, though! HRS

Posted by: Howard Sutherland on November 18, 2003 9:54 AM
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