Quotes Worth Contemplating for the Feast of St. Alphonsus de Liguori
St. Alphonsus Maria de Liguori (1696–1787) knew all about spiritual vertigo. He had lived with it. He had lived through it. For those of us who struggle with an ordered outlook on the difficult events of life, this saint, perhaps more than many others, is a good one to help us.
Alphonsus’ life was stable and well-grounded until he was twenty-six. Gifted with an exceptionally brilliant mind, this son of the Italian nobility stood for his examinations, passing every test with high honors, and was awarded the degree of doctor in both Canon Law and Civil Law when he was sixteen years old (cf. Saint Alphonsus de Liguori, 14). An early biographer describes his aptitude for these dual professions:
He grew so rapidly in public esteem as a result of his genius and his knowledge that, to the admiration of the city of Naples, he was before long being entrusted with the most important causes. Those who knew him well tell us that he advanced rapidly to the first ranks of the advocates of Naples. He was a man of wide reading, tenacious memory, direct and straightforward in his language, and withal scrupulously honest and an uncompromising enemy of chicanery. He would defend none but causes that he knew to be just, refusing even doubtful ones; and he was always considerate, sympathetic, and unselfish in dealing with his clients. His power of eloquence was so great that he could hold a courtroom spellbound, and he was known to win even opponents over to his side. (SAL, 15)
For ten years Alphonsus went on in this fashion, as faithful to his religious practices as he was wholly committed to the duties of his profession. And in all those ten years, he never lost a single case. So far, so good.
Enter the vertigo.
But there is of necessity a certain amount of danger in the pursuit of a worldly profession, especially when popularity increases the demands made upon one day by day. The time came when there was a change in the spiritual fervor of Alphonsus. He lived amid applause and honor; he was feted and fawned upon by those whom his talents had served, and society opened its ranks to him and gave him of its best. He began to find it all very agreeable. His father insisted that he visit here and there, that he become acquainted with this prominent personage and that, until the time came when it was almost physically impossible to perform his accustomed spiritual exercises, and he would omit them with scarcely a qualm. (SAL, 18)
Were the symptoms apparent? Not yet. But they would be.
At the instigation of a friend, Alphonsus went on a retreat with the Vincentians which succeeded in rousing him from his spiritual lethargy. He returned to the world, in fact, not only determined that “the distractions and gaieties of the world would not be permitted to interfere with his daily practice of the love of God,” (SAL, 21) but even with a latent notion that he should consecrate his life more fully to the Church. He began to spend long hours on his knees before the Blessed Sacrament.
But if his vertigo was to have a total cure, it would need to come to a head — pun intended. Alphonsus’ story continues:
It has been said that his reputation as a lawyer had gained for him the distinction of being entrusted with some of the most prominent and important cases in Naples. About this time such a case was given to him: it was a land dispute between a leading nobleman of Naples and a rich landowner of Tuscany, involving a sum that today would amount to about $500,000. Alphonsus had been retained by his fellow townsman, and the whole city was talking about the case. For a month he labored over it, ferreting out important documents, interviewing persons, preparing his defense. At last the day of the trial came. His friend and teacher, Dominic Caravita, was on the bench as judge. With his old assurance, with the conviction that he had control of all the facts involved in the issue, with the eloquence that always inspired his words when he spoke in defense of the truth, Alphonsus addressed the court. When he finished, he sat down, no doubt certain that his arguments were irrefutable; the case was closed.
But this time it was different. The opposing lawyer arose, and without any attempt at eloquence, pointed out in a few words that Alphonsus had overlooked one telling document, and that the success or failure of his case rested on that alone. Alphonsus called for the document: one hasty perusal proved that his opponent was right. He had overlooked important evidence. He had made his first great mistake. His case was lost.
His feeling may have been due largely to wounded vanity or hurt pride, yet the fact remains that it was the greatest catastrophe the young lawyer had ever experienced. He who had an unbroken record of successes, who had been known to miss no arguments, to evade no facts, to make the most of every shred of evidence, had lost what was perhaps the greatest case of his career, and had lost it by an almost childish mistake. (SAL, 22–23)
And that was when our hero’s spiritual vertigo, hit full force.
His face paled and the courtroom seemed to reel before him. Then suddenly he saw it all as a disposition of Providence, a harrowing but necessary means that God had chosen to draw him from the world. “O world!” he cried, “I know you now! Courts, you shall never see me more!” and he walked from the courtroom determined that he would never return. (SAL, 23)
Nor did he. Vertigo dispelled. Order restored.
And so it was that we can believe the Marian Doctor when he says,
Many things appear to us to be misfortunes, and we call them misfortunes; but if we understood the end for which God sends them, we should see that they are graces…. We labor under a vertigo, and therefore many things appear to us to go to ruin; and we know not that it is our giddy head that makes them appear to us different from what they are in reality. (The True Spouse of Jesus Christ, 425)
Dear St. Alphonsus, grant that God may dispel our spiritual vertigo as He did yours; that He may help us reorient our lives in such a way that He Himself is the center and focus of our thoughts, the primary object of our love, the sole object of our ambitions. Above all, St. Alphonsus, help us see reality for what it is, the merciful playing out of God’s Providence in our regard. May we learn to be convinced, as you were, that, “[E]very event, whether it causes joy or sorrow, tends to unite the soul that loves more closely to her God” (TS, 660).
