My spiritual reading yesterday kept leading me to the "heart" of the matter starting with the daily devotional from the SSPX which examined "purity of intention." A good question for each of us is this. Does my action come from a heart filled with love for God or other lesser motives? People can perform the same external actions with very different results in the eyes of God:
We can go to Mass out of routine or out of obligation, or else simply to see a particular person. We can also go to Mass out of love of God. Externally, the actions are the same, but in the eyes of God they are each very different. The same external act will be meritorious for some, not for others, depending on the purity of their intention. It is the same for our duty of state. We can set to work out of obligation, out of pleasure or out of love of God. The same action is meritorious for some and not for others. [Source]
I consider myself a dutiful person. "She tried to do her duty." could be engraved on my tombstone. But how often is that duty done with cold charity? It certainly is better to do one's duty even with a less than perfect motive than to fail to do it, but how much better to be motivated by love for God, recognizing Him in the most distressful circumstances? I pray to do better.
What determines the merit of our actions? Our intentions. Do our hearts belong to God or are they so filled up with other things that there is no room, like the inns in Bethlehem that turned away our Saviour.
It is toward evening when Mary and Joseph reach their journey's end....there is no room left for them in the inn. We know how beautifully the Fathers of the Church apply this fact to us. They tell us that the crowded inn is like the human heart. There is room for many things, many people, many interests....A crowd of thoughts, of desires, of earthly plans, of business, of passions -- all find room. And when Jesus comes, He comes too late.....And so we say to Him, "Go hence!" Oh no, we do not say so with our lips..., but our hearts are more eloquent than our tongues, and our hearts say plainly to Him, "Go hence! There is no room for you. Leave us in peace. Begone!" And Jesus goes away, and we remain with our miseries, like the inn at Bethlehem, which might have sheltered the Infinity, but would not.
Ah, if only our hearts were turned toward God! How often do I tell Jesus to "Go hence!" not with my words but with my actions? How often do I turn to Him first in distress rather than a mindless distraction or "comfort" food?
My last thought comes from the Imitation of Mary who belonged so totally to God in her fiat that she and Christ are like two hearts united:
No one can think of that Holy Family without envying it. How wonderful it would be if every Christian family took lessons in such a school!
If the love of God ruled in other families as it did under the humble roof that sheltered Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, they too would enjoy order, peace, and harmony.
Husband and wife would taste the innocent delights of marital union; children would be raised to fear God....There would be none of the disastrous effects of jealousy and dissension betwee husband wife, none of the scandals so frequent today....Adversity would not give rise to complaints and murmurings against God's providence, and He would be no less honored in time of need or simple sufficiency than in time of abundance or greatness....
From such families how much good would result for the whole society of the faithful!
O Jesus, meek and humble of heart, make my heart like unto Thine.
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