One day a Capuchin Father was walking in the country, when he was joined by an officer of the army. This officer was a man noted for his bravery and skill in war, but had little or no concern about religion.

The Capuchin Father was about to leave, but the officer immediately spoke to him, and said,

“Why are you going away, Father? Does my uniform make you afraid? Remain with me a few moments; you have nothing to fear.

“I am quite aware that persons of my career too often amuse themselves by speaking poorly of men such as you; but I am not one of these. Indeed, I think it a very cowardly act for anyone to insult another who cannot insult him back. It seems to me that such an act is like that of a man who would draw his sword to attack one who was unarmed.

“So, my Father, have no misunderstanding on that matter. Far from wanting to annoy you at all, I would, on the contrary, try to offer you some consolation in the severe and laborious life you have chosen; for I do not know any state in life that can be compared to it in hardship and suffering.”

The officer then began to speak about the various inconveniences, the pains, and the harshness of life for people of the Capuchin Order: such as walking barefooted, wearing the roughest habits, and eating the plainest food, as well as the obligation to go begging from door to door to obtain this food.

The Father permitted him to speak to the end without interruption; then he replied,

“Sir, I am indeed very grateful to you for the kind interest you take in my well-being. But let me say that I am not to be pitied as much as you imagine. I even make bold to say that you are much more in need of compassion than I am. This statement may surprise you; Let me try to prove to you how true it is.

“In the first place, don’t you yourself find your position a difficult one, when, at the first suggestion of a war having broken out, you are called upon to tear yourself away from your family, whom you rightly love so much, with the prospect of never again seeing them?

“Then, during the time of war, does it appear to you to be sweet and pleasant to encamp, frequently in the middle of the snows of winter, with only a thin tent to protect you from the cold blasts, and to march continually over impassable roads and rugged mountains; to bear the oppressive heats of summer or the biting colds of winter, and to pass the nights so often under the open skies?

“But these troubles are among the least of what you have to deal with. When, during a siege, you are commanded to be in the trenches or to scale the walls, or when on the field of battle you are ordered to attack the enemy or to stand in a dangerous position, exposed to gunfire, without being permitted to retreat or go forward, when the cannonballs and the bullets from the guns of the enemy whistle past your ears, or their shells burst near you, striking and killing many of those who are around you, with the dread that the next minute you may too be dead, not to speak of the bayonets and the swords bringing death to so many, and into this danger you must rush forward - tell me, I ask you, isn’t your position much more to be pitied than that of the poor Capuchin?

“The Capuchin may have plain food and clothing, but his life is not exposed to such dangers as these. He runs no risk of being wounded or maimed. And I need not add, sir, what is well known to you - that many officers and soldiers, even although they may have escaped with their lives, return home to their families covered with wounds, and often deprived of some of the limbs of their bodies.”

Here the officer interrupted him. “And do you value as nothing,” he said, with some energy, “the glory which one gains for having exposed himself to so many dangers for his Prince and for his country? It is the desire and the hope of obtaining this glory that sustains us in the midst of all these dangers you have so vividly described.”

“I fully expected that this would be your answer,” replied the Capuchin, “but I must turn it against yourself. In leading a life which is more severe than the one we live, and in exposing yourself to so many dangers, labors, and wounds, you seek a glory which is only temporal. Whereas the Capuchin, in submitting himself to his severe and mortified life, proposes to obtain for himself a greater reward - one that will never end. It seems to me, that you are more to be pitied than the Capuchin is, in this matter of reward also.”

Those who were with the officer agreed with this answer of the Capuchin. The officer himself could not deny how the truth of his words.

The good monk's promise of heavenly reward is not only for those living in a monastery or convent. Everyone is called by God to know, love, and serve Him, not only in big things but throughout their daily lives. There will be suffering along the way, for all must pray and strive to always do the right thing, no matter the cost. However long a life we live, by submitting our wills to God, we will be more than compensated for our sufferings and trials - for the reward in Heaven will be greater than we could ever imagine, and it will last forever.