Today in the Second Reading from the book of Hebrews, St. Paul gives us some great advice about self-control, discipline, and personal accountability. He reminds us of something that we probably already know, but that we constantly need to be reminded of. Self-discipline is not fun.  It’s hard to be disciplined, but it’s necessary, and in the end we will be much happier and experience much more fulfillment if we strive for self-control in our lives.  “At the time, all discipline seems a cause for pain, not joy.  Yet later, it brings the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who are trained by it.”  We all know this on a human level, I think.  We see the athlete, for example.  We know that, in addition to the natural talent he or she has, an enormous amount of work is also necessary: training, discipline.  It takes real fortitude for athletes to train their bodies day in and day out, not to give up in the face of fatigue and the monotony of running, lifting weights, everything they have to do day in and day out to create the ability to do exceptional things.  Or think about a great musician.  The concert pianist has to put in an incredible amount of disciplined hard work to have the freedom to make beautiful music.  Hours of practicing, playing scales, finger exercises: to be able to move us.  

The spiritual life is just like that.  We’re not called to be mediocre: we’re called, each one of us, to be spiritual Olympians, spiritual concert pianists.  And it takes work; it takes discipline.  We humans bristle sometimes, especially today in our own culture, at viewing the life of faith as involving any kind of work or discipline.  But as Catholic Christians, we have the gall to suggest that our Faith is actually historically accurate and true, that it matters, matters more than anything else in the world, that our Faith should actually change the way we behave, change the way we think, the way we interact with the world and with others.  And so, our Faith is not easy; it takes work and perseverance.  There’s a greatness available to us, that’s worth working for, worth fighting for.  Our Lord describes it as a “narrow gate;” a road that takes real strength to walk down. A narrow passageway that we have be spiritually fit to wedge ourselves through.  The demands of the Christian life require a willingness on our part to see our own weakness and find ways to rely on the Lord, to form good habits in our lives, and strive for holiness and virtue like an Olympian strives for the gold, or a musician strives to become a virtuoso.  

What we’re talking about here, what this is, is virtue.  Virtue is nothing more than forming good spiritual habits.  When we strive for holiness we work to form these good spiritual habits, spiritual muscles made strong and resilient through attention and repetition.  And the paradox is this: by binding ourselves to all this spiritual discipline, by living the laws of the moral life given to us by God and the Church, we experience a greater freedom than we could ever imagine, a greater peace, and a true and abiding joy.  Really trying to do good and struggling every day against our sins is the foundation of virtue.  It’s a narrow gate leading to salvation, and we have to be lean to get through.  But God wants us to.  He’s not setting us up to fail.  He’s setting us up to succeed.  He gives us all the tools we need; we just have to use them and never give up in the face of our own weaknesses.  Keep exercising those spiritual muscles.  If we stay faithful, if we fight the good fight, if we never give up in our pursuit of perfect holiness, we can be confident that, one day, the Lord will welcome us into his presence with the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”