"Who is there that ever receives a gift and tries to make bargains about it? Let us, then, return thanks for what He has bestowed on us. Who can tell whether, if we had had a larger share of ability or stronger health, we should not have possessed them to our destruction"
About this Quote
Gratitude, here, is not a warm feeling but a disciplinary tool: a way to stop the mind from haggling with God. Liguori frames complaint as bad manners - the spiritual equivalent of receiving a gift and immediately trying to renegotiate the terms. That domestic image does more than moralize; it shrinks the cosmic problem of suffering down to a recognizable social breach. You don’t bargain at the doorstep. You say thank you.
The subtext is distinctly Catholic and distinctly 18th-century: life is not a marketplace where virtue earns upgrades. Liguori, a moral theologian steeped in confession culture and scrupulous consciences, targets a familiar trap - obsessive self-auditing. Am I getting my fair share of talent, health, ease? His answer is to rewire the question from entitlement to stewardship. What you have is “bestowed,” not owed, and the proper posture is reception, not negotiation.
His most pointed move is the twist on envy. He doesn’t argue that greater ability or stronger health would make you happier; he suggests it might ruin you. That’s pastoral realism dressed as humility: gifts enlarge your risk profile. More power means more temptation, more vanity, more occasions to fail. In a world where illness was common and social mobility uneven, this is consolation without sentimentality - a way to make limits feel like protection rather than punishment.
The intent is clear: replace resentment with trust, and replace anxiety about “more” with suspicion that “more” might be the very thing that breaks you.
The subtext is distinctly Catholic and distinctly 18th-century: life is not a marketplace where virtue earns upgrades. Liguori, a moral theologian steeped in confession culture and scrupulous consciences, targets a familiar trap - obsessive self-auditing. Am I getting my fair share of talent, health, ease? His answer is to rewire the question from entitlement to stewardship. What you have is “bestowed,” not owed, and the proper posture is reception, not negotiation.
His most pointed move is the twist on envy. He doesn’t argue that greater ability or stronger health would make you happier; he suggests it might ruin you. That’s pastoral realism dressed as humility: gifts enlarge your risk profile. More power means more temptation, more vanity, more occasions to fail. In a world where illness was common and social mobility uneven, this is consolation without sentimentality - a way to make limits feel like protection rather than punishment.
The intent is clear: replace resentment with trust, and replace anxiety about “more” with suspicion that “more” might be the very thing that breaks you.
Quote Details
| Topic | Gratitude |
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