Meditation & Mental Prayer: Catholics Talking To God.

Journey to Perfection with the Virtues of Candour and Prudence

Noreen Pankhurst
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Deus for the grid. God and Mary and Saint Patrick to you. You are listening to the Meditation and Mental Prayer Podcast, Catholics Talking to God. This podcast is predominantly about mental prayer and all the things that lead to mental prayer. And now for your host, Mrs. Christabel Pankhurst, a Catholic teacher and theologian.

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Candor and prudence are necessary virtues to acquire on the journey to holiness. A person living out the virtue of candor, with their courage and accountability, is seen by all who know them as a person of integrity. Believe me. These people will be truthful and wise. Their friends might be a little afraid of them, but they will trust them and admire their virtue when it is accompanied by the virtue of prudence, and that even tempered with charity. In other words, you know, you can be really candid person, very truthful, very upstanding, do the right thing as often as possible and be seen to do the right thing, but you need to have the virtue of prudence to take care of candor. As you can imagine, you just can't say whatever you like. The virtue of prudence begins with reflection. This virtue should affect every part of our lives, not just what we say. We take care and we are cautious and we reserve good judgment as well as wisdom in handling all our affairs. That is, when we're dealing with other people or when we're looking after our bank statement. So to be prudent is to be sober. And when we act with candor, we are prudent as we exercise caution. We are careful to realize that we are required to exercise charity in both our speech and in our actions. So a candid person, when they're dealing with conflicts, they'll be addressing the situation directly and honestly, rather than avoiding or sugarcoating situations. And that can lead to quicker resolution and of situations or problems, and it makes for stronger relationships because people trust what the person is saying to them or and and their judgment. Another part of being candid is admitting mistakes, acknowledging when you've made a mistake shows integrity and it shows honesty. Now the other thing is sharing your opinions, and that's important, and yet it needs prudence. Okay, so that's just lightly describing candor and prudence. And there's a huge number of other attributes that are added to candor and prudence. When you're thinking in worldly terms, you heard me say there about improving relationships. And so this is the type of talk and the type of ideas about candor and prudence that the world talks about, that a YouTube channel will give you advice on. And yes, it's good and it's true. However, our relationship that we want to improve is with God. And so as I was learning about this virtue and, as I say, all its attributes, I was beginning to go off it, totally go off it. It seems so cold and and formal. Um and as we say in Ireland, my heart didn't like it. And I thought, right, I don't like this anymore. I'm gonna forget these two. Forget the we'll do without these two. Then I discovered the virtue of candour and prudence in the Catholic sphere. And as we often say, the rich, warm tones of the Catholic faith came through. And I discovered that the saints they described candour as simplicity. Now, isn't that beautiful? And doesn't that just describe it in a holy way and in a lovely way? And I thought, oh my goodness, what a difference. Now, Saint Vincent de Paul says, Among those who make profession following the maxims of Christ, simplicity ought to be held in great esteem. So now remember he's talking about the virtue of candor. He goes on to say, For among the wise of this world there is nothing more contemptible or despicable than this. Yet it is a virtue most worthy of love, because it leads us straight to the kingdom of God, and at the same time wins for us the affection of men. And as I read this, I just got the feeling that it was a polar opposite of narcissism and selfishness. And here's another thing I read by Saint Francis de Sales, and he said these words to a friend, and it's very interesting it um at first I didn't quite know what he was talking about, but then on rereading it I realized. And he says, I do not know what that poor virtue of prudence has done to me, that I find so much difficulty in loving it. And if I love it, it is only from necessity, insomuch as it is the support and guiding light of this life. So he's talking about prudence and how important it is and that it guides you, it's a guiding light um in how to behave, whether to be forward or hold back or just that light of showing you which way to go, and that's prudence. And then he says, but the beauty of simplicity, so he's talking about candor. But the beauty of simplicity completely fascinates me. It is true that the gospel recommends us both the simplicity of the dove and the prudence of the serpent. Oh, you can see how the whole thing can be used. For instance, if you have a truth, if you hold a truth and you decide to withhold it from someone else, that's being prudent about candor. But is it right? Or you may decide to tell someone the truth about something, or even be kind to someone or good to them, but they may not appreciate it, or they may feel insulted. So it's it's difficult. I can see what he's saying there. And he continues, I know that both are useful when they are united. So we can see the dilemma of the saints in trying to use the two virtues. For while we know that candid in a situation that the candid thing to say in any given circumstances, we have to wrestle with ourselves, working out should we say it or not. Let's look at how Jesus showed us how he used both candor and prudence when talking with the woman at the well. Jesus of course had the wisdom and the knowledge of all her sins. He could easily have accosted her with the truth about her life. He could have begun the conversation by being candid with her, but instead Jesus exercises the virtue of prudence by giving the woman the opportunity to be truthful with him and actually confess. So we read in John chapter four verse sixteen, Jesus said to her, Go call thy husband and come hither. The woman answered and said, I have no husband. Jesus said to her, Thou hast said well, I have no husband, for thou hast had five husbands, and he whom thou that hast now is not thy husband. Thou hast said truth. The woman saith to him, Sir, I perceive thou art a prophet. And as we can see the woman was truthful with Jesus, but I would suspect that she found it difficult to tell Jesus a lie. Now do we thy to Jesus? Are we imprudent in our conversation with him? We need to ask ourselves, are we always candid with Jesus? Are we prudent? Let's consider for our meditation the story of the Pharisee and the publican. Two men went up to the temple to pray, the one a Pharisee, the other a publican. The Pharisee standing prayed thus with himself O God, I give thee thanks that I am not, as the rest of men, extortionists, unjust, adulterers, as also is this publican. For twice a week I gave tithes out of all that I possess. Jesus warns us everyone who exalts himself shall be humble. Jesus describes a publican as standing afar off, would not so much as lift up his eyes toward heaven, but struck his breast saying, O God, be merciful to me a sinner. For us to be spiritually candid, we need to have the courage to see ourselves how we really are spiritually, to stand before God and admit to our inadequacies. We need to be willing to allow his divine light to penetrate our hearts and hang our heads in shame at how we treat him. Here's a little exercise of mental prayer. Let's imagine we live near Nazareth at the time of the Holy Family, when they lived there. Youth has been invited with the apostles to have a meal at their home at midday. You're delighted at the prospect of being able to hear Jesus preach. Imagine being that close to him. To be able to enjoy his company like in his own home, without the milling crowds around, jostling to get near him. It's a fabulous thought. So anyway, the long awaited day has arrived, and you sit out with a twenty minute walk to Nazareth. You plan to slip through the morning market to buy a small gift for the meal, but you linger over a number of the purchases, trying to decide, and at that moment a friend stops to chat. Then another acquaintance joins with breathless news of a recent scandal in the village. By the time the conversation ends, you have only five minutes left to make a twenty minute journey. You will be seriously late. How will this appear to those already gathered? What will they think of you when you finally walk in? What excuse will you give? They will think you don't care enough to be part of their group. They will judge you as fickle. The fear of losing human respect worries you. They will think that you don't care enough to be early and they will feel hurt by you. This last thought makes you realise that you must not hurt them this way, and so you decide to tell them that you got an urgent call to tend to a sick neighbour. It won't be a total lie, you decide, because you will call in and see your sick friend on the way home. Anyway, it's just a little lie. As you reach the door it swings open. James is holding it wide. There's a clear space from the open doorway right up to the table where the group of disciples are seated around the table. Jesus has just stood up to reach out to take a basket of fruit from the blessed mother as she carries it to the table. Everyone turns toward you expectantly. James has closed the door behind you, there's no escape. There in the stillness everyone at the table is waiting. You begin to speak. You try to speak to form your lie. The little unimportant lie that will stop these people losing respect for you. It's just a little lie that will stop them feeling hurt because they think you don't care enough about them. As you try to speak, Jesus turns away from you. The blessed mother meets your eyes, she's smiling, a warm, encouraging smile. Just a little lie. But it now feels so dirty, so deceptive before one so beautiful and pure. The mother of divine truth. And so you lower your head and simply say I'm late, I'm sorry. Jesus turns and smiles at you, and just as you think you're going to cry, the door bursts open and Peter struggles in. There are cries of welcome and inquiry. You're late, Peter, what kept you? Peter ignores them all and looks only at the Blessed Mother. I had already to come this morning, he explains, and then I realized I'd nothing for you, mother, so I went to the market to get some fish, and then I allowed myself to be waylaid by a fellow I hadn't seen in years. He carefully hands the bag of fish to our lady. She knows this man loves her son so dearly, and so she can forgive him anything.

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