The Sin of Languor

Maybe it's just a coincidence, but the two Latin hymns I've worked with so far have both mentioned the same reason for God's intervention in the world: to wake it up.

From Creator Alme Siderum:

Qui daemonis ne fraudibus
Periret orbis, impetu
Amoris actus, languidi
Mundi medela factus es.


And from Nunc Tempus Acceptabile:

Nunc tempus acceptabile
fulget datum divinitus,
ut sanet orbem languidum

medela parsimoniae

Well, I certainly haven't ever gone to confession saying, "Bless me, Father, for I've been languid." But from these hymns it seems that maybe I should be doing just that. But what is languor?

There is a manner of languor which seems to mean legitimate rest, as in this stanza from Robert E. Lee's favorite hymn, Rock of Ages:

Could my tears forever flow,
Could my zeal no languor know,
These for sin could not atone -
Thou must save, and Thou alone:
In my hand no price I bring,
Simply to Thy cross I cling.

Languor might have an additional connotation as well, something like "rest which, while legitimate on the natural level, leaves some part of God's plan unaccomplished." That is my reading of the languor that is absent from the heart of Matthew Arnold's father, in the following passage, the stirring last stanza of Rugby Chapel:

Then, in such hour of need

Of your fainting, dispirited race,

Ye, like angels, appear,

Radiant with ardour divine!

Beacons of hope, ye appear!

Languor is not in your heart,

Weakness is not in your word,

Weariness not on your brow.

Ye alight in our van! at your voice,

Panic, despair, flee away.

Ye move through the ranks, recall

The stragglers, refresh the outworn,

Praise, re-inspire the brave!

Order, courage, return.

Eyes rekindling, and prayers,

Follow your steps as ye go.

Ye fill up the gaps in our files,

Strengthen the wavering line,

Stablish, continue our march,

On, to the bound of the waste,

On, to the City of God.

Lastly there is a languor which seems to be at the very root of human sin.

Original sin is a habit. For it is an inordinate disposition, arising from the destruction of the harmony which was essential to original justice, even as bodily sickness is an inordinate disposition of the body, by reason of the destruction of that equilibrium which is essential to health. Hence it is that original sin is called the "languor of nature" [Cf. Augustine, In Ps. 118, serm. iii]. (St. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologiae I-IIae 82.1)

It seems likely that this last is meant in the hymns, because the languor the hymns speak of is not personal exactly: the entire world is sluggish. We all need to be awakened.

Now this is where discernment is very necessary. "Wake up!" is the call of all kinds of revolutionaries, good and bad. As St. Benedict's Rule says, there is good zeal and bad zeal. But it is also the call of John the Baptist and the evangelists ("What I say to you I say to all: Watch!"). It is implied by the burning charity of the saints. It cries from the heart of the Psalter. It shines forth from the empty Tomb.

"Just as there is a wicked zeal of bitterness which separates from God and leads to hell, so there is a good zeal which separates from vices and leads to God and everlasting life. This, then, is the good zeal which monks must foster with most fervent love: They should each try to be the first to show respect to the other (Rm 12:10), supporting with inexhaustible patience one another's weaknesses of body or behaviour, and earnestly competing in obedience to one another. No one is to pursue what he judges better for himself, but instead, what he judges better for someone else. To their fellow monks they show the pure love of brothers; to God, loving fear; to their Abbot, unfeigned and humble love. Let them prefer nothing whatever to Christ, and may He bring us all together to everlasting life." The Rule of St. Benedict, Chapter 72 - The Good Zeal of Monks.