CONFIRMATION OF WHAT HAS BEEN SAID BY A COMPARISON WORTH NOTING
You know, Theotimus, how greatly Jacob loved Rachel, his wife (Gen 29). From the time he greeted her at the well, he did all he could to testify to the greatness, the strength and the fidelity of his love. From that time he did not cease to die for love of her. To have her in marriage he served seven whole years with eager devotion. He considered all this as nothing, so much did love sweeten the troubles he suffered for his beloved. Then, when he was still deprived of her, he served again for another seven years to get her. So constant, loyal and courageous was he in his love. Having finally obtained her, he neglected all other affections, even scarcely taking any account of the duty he had to Leah, his first spouse, a woman of great merit and very worthy of his love. God himself had compassion for the contempt she suffered, so noticeable was it.
After all this, which is enough to make the proudest woman of the world subject to the love of so loyal a lover, it is shameful indeed to see the weakness Rachel showed in her affection for Jacob (Gen 30:14-16). The only bond of love that poor Leah had with Jacob was her fertility by which she had given him four sons. The first son, called Reuben, once went to the fields at harvest time and found there some mandrakes which he collected and later returning home gave as a gift to his mother. On seeing this Rachel said to Leah, Give me some, I beg of you, my sister, ofthe mandrakes your son has given you. Leah answered, Do you think it is of little benefit to you to have stolen the dear love of my husband? Must you have my son’s mandrakes as well? Rachel replied, “Come now, give me the mandrakes and in exchange my husband will spend the night with you." The condition was accepted. When Jacob returned from the fields that evening, Leah, eager to profit from her exchange, went out to meet him. Full of joy she said to him, “My dear lord, my love, this evening you will be with me. I have obtained this good fortune by means of my son’s mandrakes." She went on to tell him of the agreement made between her and her sister. But Jacob, as we know, did not speak a single word. He was shocked, I think, and suffered in his heart on hearing of the weakness and inconstancy of Rachel who for so little had given up for a whole night the honour and the delight of being with him. Tell me truly, Theotimus, was it not a strange and very fickle whim on Rachel’s part to prefer a few small apples to the chaste love of such a loving husband? Had it been for kingdoms, for crowns! But for a miserable handful of mandrakes! Theotimus, what do you think?
Returning to ourselves, good God, how often do we make choices infinitely more shameful and wretched? The great St. Augustine once took interest in leisurely examining and considering mandrakes. This was the better to discern the cause why Rachel had such a passionate desire for them. He found that they were very beautiful to look at and having a delightful odour, but completely insipid and without taste. Pliny relates that surgeons give the juice of mandrakes to be drunk by those on whom they wish to make an incision so that they become insensible to the operation. It often happens that the mere odour is enough and puts the patients sufficiently to sleep. That is why the mandrake is a magical plant that enchants the eyes and charms away pains, sorrows and all passions by sleep. Besides, one who smells the odour for too long becomes dumb, and one who drinks too much of the juice dies without remedy.
Theotimus, can a better symbol [than the mandrake] be found to represent the allurements, wealth and pleasures of the world? They are attractive on the outside but whoever bites into such apples, that is, whoever goes deeper into their nature, finds neither taste nor satisfaction in them. Yet they enchant us and put us to sleep by the vanity of their odour. The high regard that the children of the world have for them benumbs and destroys those who give themselves to them too eagerly or enjoy them to excess. It is for such mandrakes, chimeras and illusions of contentment that we forsake the love of the heavenly Spouse. How then can we say that we love him above all things since we prefer such empty vanities to his grace?
It is a marvel that makes us shed tears to see David, so noble in overcoming hatred, so generous in forgiving injuries, yet so violently unjust in love (2 Sam. 11). Not content with possessing justly a great multitude of wives, he wickedly usurps and seizes the wife of the unfortunate Uriah. Then, with intolerable treachery, the better to enjoy the love of the wife, he gets the husband cruelly slain. Who would not wonder at the heart of St. Peter, so bold amidst the armed soldiers, that he alone of all his master’s company takes sword in hand and strikes (Mt 26:51)? Yet soon afterwards he is so cowardly among the women that at the mere word of a servant girl he denies and disowns his Master (Mt 26:69-74). And how can it seem so strange to us that Rachel should give up the caresses of her husband Jacob for some mandrake apples, since Adam and Eve actually forsook grace for an apple which a serpent offered them to eat?
In conclusion, Theotimus, I say to you this word worthy of note. Heretics are heretics and are called by that name because, out of the articles of faith, they choose according to their taste and pleasure those which it seems good to them to believe, while rejecting and denying the others. And Catholics are Catholics because, without any choice or selection whatever, they accept the entire faith of the Church with equal firmness and without exception. It is the same with the articles of charity. It is heresy in sacred love to pick and choose among God’s commandments which to practise and which to break. The one who said, You shall not murder, also said, You shall not commit adultery. Now if you do not murder butyou commit adultery (James 2:11, inverted). Hence it is not for the love of God that you do not kill but from some other motive that makes you choose this commandment rather than the other. This choice is heresy with regard to charity. If someone told me that he would not cut off my arm on account of his love for me, and yet proceeded to pluck out my eye or to break my head or to run me through with a sword. “Alas," I would cry out, “how can you say it is out of love that you do not cut off my arm, since you pluck out an eye which is no less precious to me, or run my body through with your sword, which is still more dangerous to me?"
It is a maxim that good comes from an entirely perfect cause, evil from one that is defective. For an act of charity to be genuine, it must come from a love that is entire, general and universal, that extends to all God’s commandments. If we are wanting in love in any one commandment, our love is no longer either entire or universal. And the heart in which it is cannot be called truly loving, nor consequently truly good.