The context of this thought was an illness of St Teresa at Toledo in 1576-7, when her confessor restricted her penances and ordered her to eat meat. Our motives are indeed mixed. How often do we believe we have another person's welfare at heart, when in truth we need the exercise of power to dominate others! When our own sense of inner security is uneasy, it is a relief to escape from the perilous situation within and start to meddle in affairs that are not our business.

But is another's welfare never our business? Jesus teaches us that our neighbour is the person close at hand. And we, like the Good Samaritan, must always be aware of our neighbour so as to offer assistance should the occasion arise. However, before we can be properly aware of another's difficulty, we first have to get our own perception in order. In practice the two proceed together. As we attain some degree of inner health, so we are able to assist our neighbour more effectively. The relationship, in turn, strengthens our own power of endurance and sharpens our awareness so that we become more conscious of our own deficiencies. These we can lift up to God in prayer for healing, so that we can serve better.

As St Teresa noted, religious duties can easily become focuses of self-adulation. This applies also to self-denial, where there may be an additional factor of masochism, a psychological aberration in which the person derives pleasure (especially sexual) from pain or humiliation. Our haloes can shine particularly brightly when we believe we are suffering pain for Christ's sake. How easily we use him for our own self-satisfaction while deluding ourselves that we really love him! We should be especially wary when we feel a glow of spiritual satisfaction. The test is that of the Pharisee in the famous parable of Luke 18.9-14: do we look down on others from our pinnacle of spiritual advancement? If so, we are truly the least of all our fellows.

How then are we to approach the mixed motives that seem to cloud so many of our endeavours? In fact, the method is quite simple: do the obviously noble thing, but with your eyes open. Give glory to God as the results show themselves, and let him sort out the tangle of emotions that lie near the heart of your works. It is better to succour and provide for the traveller on the road from Jerusalem to Jericho (which is a paradigm of our earthly journey) who has been assailed by criminals, than to leave the person to the mercy of the inclement elements of the weather, even if there is a surreptitious hope for general acclaim when our action is made public. As we continue to act in a spirit of charity, so we shall find ourselves thinking less about our own image; entering into the pain of a fellow creature will increasingly release us from the enclosure of self. Our heart becomes more open to God's love and our personality is renewed. We begin to see that the entire life of an aspiring person is a penance for the inconsideration of the past.

The real suffering comes as one realizes that one has missed the mark; the cure is a free confession of the trouble to God, and the privilege is to be used to help one's neighbour in distress. This is the service of perfect freedom, for now one is no longer attached to rewards of any kind, either in this world or the next. Virtue is its own reward; to do good, by which I mean to further God's reign of love in the world, is the finest action we can conceive.

Bring me, Lord, to a constant awareness of my own weaknesses, so that by your unfailing love I may be able to accept myself in the round. When I have known your unconditional acceptance, may I be able to accept the frailties of other people and love them for themselves alone.