I stand in the light of Saints as the sole shadow. I stand in the shadow of Saints as having no shadow at all. In either case, I stand when I should be prostrate. Have mercy on me the sinner.
My guilt is that I write prayers rather than pray them, that I read the prayers of Saints and am struck to the heart, and still do not pray.
I am my own enemy. How can I add anything to another?
If you have received anything good from my hand, it is because God makes the same rain of His Grace to fall on the just and on myself the unjust.
I am covered in the blood of all that have died. Every man, every animal, every forest, each worm, each flower. It was I who killed Our Lord. As He came to bestow life on all, I bestowed upon Him what he knew not. Death. And from that first day of history it spreads from me and infects all creatures, all that is. It is the very air, the ground underfoot, the heat, the light, the darkness, the cold, the wind. I have done this. And my remorse is but a mockery, the shallowest of answers for my crimes. When a whole crop is plowed under, dying to yield its fruit, I have done this. When in the plowing birds, mice, rabbits, worms, beetles, moths, butterflies, snakes, and toads lose their lives, I have done this. When deer and small animals that would have eaten what I left starve and thirst in Summer and Winter, are forced onto highways, where I drive over them in my hastening toward death, I have done it. Whenever anyone or anything anywhere is injured or suffers or falls ill or dies, I have inflicted it. I am the bringer of death, the curse of the world. I am the cause of all wrongs, the succour of demons, the nemesis of angels, the torment of Christ. For all this I have no answer except “Lord greater than death – have mercy and slay me. Overcome me. Melt down and remake me.
If I appear to be giving to the poor or needy, if I an seen laying aside anything for the Saints, I have no such virtue. At best, I am merely fulfilling my absolute obligation to one greater than me. It is the Master’s money, and he bids me deliver it to his true children — those in whom I am supposed to recognize His face. He allows me a living from the funds, and I am the unworthy servant that skims too much off the top and lives in luxury, perishing in soul, while others perish in body and are saved. When I open my palm, what you see is the hand of the thief. I contribute nothing, and I take all. I am Judas clutching thirty pieces of silver and letting Heaven slip from my grasp. God have mercy.
Every breath I take is the death of something. Every good act I have done is an evil. Every true statement I have made is a lie. Every word a presumption. Every charity a self-interest. And no word will change or atone.
My tears are not worthy to annoint Thy feet O Lord. They are not yet tears of true repentance.