In which there are Three Chapters
Treats
of the difference between sweetness or tenderness in prayer and consolations,
and tells of the happiness which the author gained from learning
how different thought is from understanding. This chapter is very
profitable for those who suffer greatly from distractions during
prayer.
BEFORE
I begin to speak of the fourth Mansions, it is most necessary that
I should do what I have already done -- namely, commend myself to the
Holy Spirit, and beg Him from this point onward to speak for me, so
that you may understand what I shall say about the Mansions still to
be treated. For we now begin to touch the supernatural[77] and
this is most difficult to explain unless His Majesty takes it in hand,
as He did when I described as much as I understood of the subject,
about fourteen years ago.[78] Although
I think I have now a little more light upon these favours which the
Lord grants to some souls, it is a different thing to know how to explain
them. May His Majesty undertake this if there is any advantage to be
gained from its being done, but not otherwise.
As these
Mansions are now getting near to the place where the King dwells, they
are of great beauty and there are such exquisite things to be seen
and appreciated in them that the understanding is incapable of describing
them in any way accurately without being completely obscure to those
devoid of experience. But any experienced person will understand quite
well, especially if his experience has been considerable. It seems
that, in order to reach these Mansions, one must have lived for a long
time in the others; as a rule one must have been in those which we
have just described, but there is no infallible rule about it, as you
must often have heard, for the Lord gives when He wills and as He wills
and to whom He wills, and, as the gifts are His own, this is doing
no injustice to anyone.
Into
these Mansions poisonous creatures seldom enter, and, if they do, they
prove quite harmless -- in fact they do the soul good. I think in this
state of prayer it is much better for them to enter and make war upon
the soul, for, if it had no temptations, the devil might mislead it
with regard to the consolations which God gives, and do much more harm
than he can when it is being tempted. The soul, too, would not gain
so much, for it would be deprived of all occasions of merit and be
living in a state of permanent absorption. When a soul is continuously
in a condition of this kind I do not consider it at all safe, nor do
I think it possible for the Spirit of the Lord to remain in a soul
continuously in this way during our life of exile.
Returning
to what I was saying I would describe here -- namely, the difference
between sweetness in prayer and spiritual consolations -- it seems
to me that we may describe as sweetness what we get from our meditations
and from petitions made to Our Lord. This proceeds from our own nature,
though, of course, God plays a part in the process (and in everything
I say you must understand this, for we can do nothing without Him).
This spiritual sweetness arises from the actual virtuous work which
we perform, and we think we have acquired it by our labours. We are
quite right to feel satisfaction[79] at
having worked in such a way. But, when we come to think of it, the
same satisfaction[80] can
be derived from numerous things that may happen to us here on earth.
When, for example, a person suddenly acquires some valuable property;
or equally suddenly meets a person whom he dearly loves; or brings
some important piece of business or some other weighty matter to a
successful conclusion, so that everyone speaks well of him; or when
a woman has been told that her husband or brother or son is dead and
he comes back to her alive. I have seen people shed tears over some
great joy[81]; sometimes,
in fact, I have done so myself.
It seems
to me that the feelings[82] which
come to us from Divine things are as purely natural as these, except
that their source is nobler, although these worldly joys are in no
way bad. To put it briefly, worldly joys have their source in our own
nature and end in God, whereas spiritual consolations have their source
in God, but we experience them in a natural way and enjoy them as much
as we enjoy those I have already mentioned, and indeed much more. Oh,
Jesus! How I wish I could make myself clear about this! For I think
I can see a very marked difference between these two things and yet
I am not clever enough to make my meaning plain: may the Lord explain
it for me!
I have
just remembered a verse which we say at the end of the last psalm at
Prime. The last words of the verse are Cum dilatasti cor meum.83 To
anyone who has much experience, this will suffice to explain the difference
between the two; though, to anyone who has not, further explanation
is necessary. The spiritual sweetness which has been described does
not enlarge the heart; as a rule, it seems to oppress it somewhat.
The soul experiences a great happiness[84] when
it realizes what it is doing for God's sake; but it sheds a few bitter
tears which seem in some way to be the result of passion[85]. I
know little about these passions of the soul; if I knew more, perhaps
I could make the thing clear, and explain what proceeds from sensuality
and what from our own nature. But I am very stupid; I could explain
this state if only I could understand my own experience of it. Knowledge
and learning are a great help in everything.
My own
experience of this state -- I mean of these favours and this sweetness
in meditation -- was that, if I began to weep over the Passion, I could
not stop until I had a splitting headache; and the same thing happened
when I wept for my sins. This was a great grace granted me by Our Lord,
and I will not for the moment examine each of these favours and decide
which is the better of the two; I wish, however, that I could explain
the difference between them. In the state I am now describing, the
tears and longings sometimes arise partly from our nature and from
the state of preparedness we are in;[86] but
nevertheless, as I have said, they eventually lead one to God. And
this is an experience to be greatly prized, provided the soul be humble,
and can understand that it does not make it any the more virtuous;
for it is impossible to be sure that these feelings are effects of
love, and, even so, they are a gift of God. Most of the souls which
dwell in the Mansions already described are familiar with these feelings
of devotion, for they labour with the understanding almost continuously,
and make use of it in their meditations. They are right to do this,
because nothing more has been given them; they would do well, however,
to spend short periods in making various acts, and in praising God
and rejoicing in His goodness and in His being Who He is, and in desiring
His honour and glory. They should do this as well as they can, for
it goes a long way towards awakening the will. But, when the Lord gives
them this other grace, let them be very careful not to reject it for
the sake of finishing their customary meditation.
As I
have written about this at great length elsewhere,[87] I
will not repeat it here. I only want you to be warned that, if you
would progress a long way on this road and ascend to the Mansions of
your desire, the important thing is not to think much, but to love
much; do, then, whatever most arouses you to love. Perhaps we do not
know what love is: it would not surprise me a great deal to learn this,
for love consists, not in the extent of our happiness, but in the firmness
of our determination to try to please God in everything, and to endeavour,
in all possible ways, not to offend Him, and to pray Him ever to advance
the honour and glory of His Son and the growth of the Catholic Church.
Those are the signs of love; do not imagine that the important thing
is never to be thinking of anything else and that if your mind becomes
slightly distracted all is lost.
I have
sometimes been terribly oppressed by this turmoil of thoughts and it
is only just over four years ago that I came to understand by experience
that thought (or, to put it more clearly, imagination[88])
is not the same thing as understanding. I asked a learned man about
this and he said I was right, which gave me no small satisfaction.
For, as the understanding is one of the faculties of the soul, I found
it very hard to see why it was sometimes so timid[89]; whereas
thoughts, as a rule, fly so fast that only God can restrain them; which
He does by uniting us in such a way that we seem in some sense to be
loosed from this body.[90] It
exasperated me[91] to
see the faculties of the soul, as I thought, occupied with God and
recollected in Him, and the thought, on the other hand, confused and
excited.
O Lord,
do Thou remember how much we have to suffer on this road through lack
of knowledge! The worst of it is that, as we do not realize we need
to know more when we think about Thee, we cannot ask those who know;
indeed we have not even any idea what there is for us to ask them.
So we suffer terrible trials because we do not understand ourselves;
and we worry over what is not bad at all, but good, and think it very
wrong. Hence proceed the afflictions of many people who practise prayer,
and their complaints of interior trials -- especially if they are unlearned
people -- so that they become melancholy, and their health declines,
and they even abandon prayer altogether, because they fail to realize
that there is an interior world close at hand. Just as we cannot stop
the movement of the heavens, revolving as they do with such speed,
so we cannot restrain our thought. And then we send all the faculties
of the soul after it, thinking we are lost, and have misused the time
that we are spending in the presence of God. Yet the soul may perhaps
be wholly united with Him in the Mansions very near His presence, while
thought remains in the outskirts of the castle, suffering the assaults
of a thousand wild and venomous creatures and from this suffering winning
merit. So this must not upset us, and we must not abandon the struggle,
as the devil tries to make us do. Most of these trials and times of
unrest come from the fact that we do not understand ourselves.
As I
write this, the noises in my head are so loud that I am beginning to
wonder what is going on in it.[92] As
I said at the outset, they have been making it almost impossible for
me to obey those who commanded me to write. My head sounds just as
if it were full of brimming rivers, and then as if all the water in
those rivers came suddenly rushing downward; and a host of little birds
seem to be whistling, not in the ears, but in the upper part of the
head, where the higher part of the soul is said to be; I have held
this view for a long time, for the spirit seems to move upward with
great velocity. Please God I may remember to explain the cause of this
when I am writing of the later Mansions: here it does not fit in well.
I should not be surprised to know that the Lord has been pleased to
send me this trouble in my head so that I may understand it better,
for all this physical turmoil is no hindrance either to my prayer or
to what I am saying now, but the tranquillity and love in my soul are
quite unaffected, and so are its desires and clearness of mind.
But if
the higher part of the soul is in the upper part of the head, how is
it that it experiences no disturbance? That I do not know, but I do
know that what I say is true. I suffer when my prayer is not accompanied
by suspension of the faculties, but, when the faculties are suspended,
I feel no pain until the suspension is over; it would be a terrible
thing if this obstacle forced me to give up praying altogether. It
is not good for us to be disturbed by our thoughts or to worry about
them in the slightest; for if we do not worry and if the devil is responsible
for them they will cease, and if they proceed, as they do, from the
weakness which we inherit from the sin of Adam, and from many other
weaknesses, let us have patience and bear everything for the love of
God. Similarly we are obliged to eat and sleep, and we cannot escape
from these obligations, though they are a great burden to us.
Let us
recognize our weakness in these respects and desire to go where nobody
will despise us. I sometimes recall words I have heard, spoken by the
Bride in the Canticles,[93] and
really I believe there is no point in our lives at which they can more
properly be used, for I do not think that all the scorn and all the
trials which we may have to suffer in this life can equal these interior
battles. Any unrest and any strife can be borne, as I have already
said, if we find peace where we live; but if we would have rest from
the thousand trials which afflict us in the world and the Lord is pleased
to prepare such rest for us, and yet the cause of the trouble is in
ourselves, the result cannot but be very painful, indeed almost unbearable.
For this causes Lord, do Thou take us to a place where these weaknesses,
which sometimes seem to be making sport of the soul, do not cause us
to be despised. Even in this life the Lord will free the soul from
this, when it has reached the last Mansion, as, if it please God, we
shall explain.
These
weaknesses will not give everyone so much trouble, or assail everyone
as violently, as for many years they troubled and assailed me. For
I was a wicked person and it seemed as though I were trying to take
vengeance on myself. As it has been such a troublesome thing for me,
it may perhaps be so for you as well, so I am just going to describe
it, first in one way and then in another, hoping that I may succeed
in making you realize how necessary it is, so that you may not grow
restless and distressed. The clacking old mill must keep on going round
and we must grind our own flour: neither the will nor the understanding
must cease working.
This
trouble will sometimes be worse, and sometimes better, according to
our health and according to the times and seasons. The poor soul may
not be to blame for this, but it must suffer none the less, for, as
we shall commit other faults, it is only right that we should have
patience. And as we are so ignorant that what we read and are advised
-- namely, that we should take no account of these thoughts -- is not
sufficient to teach us, it does not seem to me a waste of time if I
go into it farther and offer you some consolation about it; though
this will be of little help to you until the Lord is pleased to give
us light. But it is necessary (and His Majesty's will) that we should
take proper measures and learn to understand ourselves, and not blame
our souls for what is the work of our weak imagination and our nature
and the devil.
Continues
the same subject and explains by a comparison what is meant by consolations
and how we must obtain them without striving to do so.
GOD help
me in this task which I have embarked upon.[94] I
had quite forgotten what I was writing about, for business matters
and ill-health forced me to postpone continuing it until a more suitable
time, and, as I have a poor memory, it will all be very much confused,
for I cannot read it through again. It may even be that everything
I say is confused; that, at least, is what I am afraid of. I think
I was talking about spiritual consolations and explaining how they
are sometimes bound up with our passions. They often cause fits of
sobbing; I have heard, indeed, that some persons find they produce
constrictions of the chest and even exterior movements, which cannot
be controlled, and which are violent enough to make blood gush from
the nose and produce similar disconcerting symptoms. About this I can
say nothing, for I have not experienced it, but there must be some
cause for comfort in it, for, as I say, it all leads to a desire to
please God and to have fruition of His Majesty.
What
I call consolations from God, and elsewhere have termed the Prayer
of Quiet, is something of a very different kind, as those of you will
know who by the mercy of God have experienced it. To understand it
better, let us suppose that we are looking at two fountains, the basins
of which can be filled with water. There are certain spiritual things
which I can find no way of explaining more aptly than by this element
of water; for, as I am very ignorant, and my wits give me no help,
and I am so fond of this element, I have observed it more attentively
than anything else. In all the things that have been created by so
great and wise a God there must be many secrets by which we can profit,
and those who understand them do profit by them, although I believe
that in every little thing created by God there is more than we realize,
even in so small a thing as a tiny ant.
These
two large basins can be filled with water in different ways: the water
in the one comes from a long distance, by means of numerous conduits
and through human skill; but the other has been constructed at the
very source of the water and fills without making any noise. If the
flow of water is abundant, as in the case we are speaking of, a great
stream still runs from it after it has been filled; no skill is necessary
here, and no conduits have to be made, for the water is flowing all
the time. The difference between this and the carrying of the water
by means of conduits is, I think, as follows. The latter corresponds
to the spiritual sweetness which, as I say, is produced by meditation.
It reaches us by way of the thoughts; we meditate upon created things
and fatigue the understanding; and when at last, by means of our own
efforts, it comes, the satisfaction which it brings to the soul fills
the basin, but in doing so makes a noise, as I have said.
To the
other fountain the water comes direct from its source, which is God,
and, when it is His Majesty's will and He is pleased to grant us some
supernatural favour, its coming is accompanied by the greatest peace
and quietness and sweetness within ourselves -- I cannot say where
it arises or how. And that content and delight are not felt, as earthly
delights are felt, in the heart -- I mean not at the outset, for later
the basin becomes completely filled, and then this water begins to
overflow all the Mansions and faculties, until it reaches the body.
It is for that reason that I said it has its source in God and ends
in ourselves -- for it is certain, and anyone will know this who has
experienced it, that the whole of the outer man enjoys this consolation
and sweetness.
I was
thinking just now, as I wrote this, that a verse which I have already
quoted, Dilatasti cor meum,95 speaks of the heart's being
enlarged. I do not think that this happiness has its source in the
heart at all. It arises in a much more interior part, like something
of which the springs are very deep; I think this must be the centre
of the soul, as I have since realized and as I will explain hereafter.
I certainly find secret things in ourselves which often amaze me --
and how many more there must be! O my Lord and my God! How wondrous
is Thy greatness! And we creatures go about like silly little shepherd-boys,
thinking we are learning to know something of Thee when the very most
we can know amounts to nothing at all, for even in ourselves there
are deep secrets which we cannot fathom. When I say "amounts to nothing
at all" I mean because Thou art so surpassingly great, not because
the signs of greatness that we see in Thy works are not very wonderful,
even considering how very little we can learn to know of them.
Returning
to this verse, what it says about the enlargement of the heart may,
I think, be of some help to us. For apparently, as this heavenly water
begins to flow from this source of which I am speaking -- that is,
from our very depths -- it proceeds to spread within us and cause an
interior dilation and produce ineffable blessings, so that the soul
itself cannot understand all that it receives there. The fragrance
it experiences, we might say, is as if in those interior depths there
were a brazier on which were cast sweet perfumes; the light cannot
be seen, nor the place where it dwells, but the fragrant smoke and
the heat penetrate the entire soul, and very often, as I have said,
the effects extend even to the body. Observe -- and understand me here
-- that no heat is felt, nor is any fragrance perceived: it is a more
delicate thing than that; I only put it in that way so that you may
understand it. People who have not experienced it must realize that
it does in very truth happen; its occurrence is capable of being perceived,
and the soul becomes aware of it more clearly than these words of mine
can express it. For it is not a thing that we can fancy, nor, however
hard we strive, can we acquire it, and from that very fact it is clear
that it is a thing made, not of human metal, but of the purest gold
of Divine wisdom. In this state the faculties are not, I think, in
union, but they become absorbed and are amazed as they consider what
is happening to them.
It may
be that in writing of these interior things I am contradicting what
I have myself said elsewhere. This is not surprising, for almost fifteen
years have passed since then,[96] and
perhaps the Lord has now given me a clearer realization of these matters
than I had at first. Both then and now, of course, I may be mistaken
in all this, but I cannot lie about it: by the mercy of God I would
rather die a thousand deaths: I am speaking of it just as I understand
it.
The will
certainly seems to me to be united in some way with the will of God;
but it is by the effects of this prayer and the actions which follow
it that the genuineness of the experience must be tested and there
is no better crucible for doing so than this. If the person who receives
such a grace recognizes it for what it is, Our Lord is granting him
a surpassingly great favour, and another very great one if he does
not turn back. You will desire, then, my daughters, to strive to attain
this way of prayer, and you will be right to do so, for, is I have
said, the soul cannot fully understand the favours which the Lord grants
it there or the love which draws it ever nearer to Himself, it is certainly
desirable that we should know how to obtain this favour. I will tell
you what I have found out about it.
We may
leave out of account occasions when the Lord is pleased to grant these
favours for no other reason than because His Majesty so wills. He knows
why He does it and it is not for us to interfere. As well as acting,
then, as do those who have dwelt in the Mansions already described,
have humility and again humility! It is by humility that the Lord allows
Himself to be conquered so that He will do all we ask of Him, and the
first way in which you will see if you have humility is that if you
have it you will not think you merit these favours and consolations
of the Lord or are likely to get them for as long as you live. "But
how," you will ask, "are we to gain them if we do not strive after
them?" I reply that there is no better way than this one which I have
described. There are several reasons why they should not be striven
for. The first is because the most essential thing is that we should
love God without any motive of self-interest. The second is because
there is some lack of humility in our thinking that in return for our
miserable services we can obtain anything so great. The third is because
the true preparation for receiving these gifts is a desire to suffer
and to imitate the Lord, not to receive consolations; for, after all,
we have often offended Him. The fourth reason is because His Majesty
is not obliged to grant them to us, as He is obliged to grant us glory
if we keep His commandments, without doing which we could not be saved,
and He knows better than we what is good for us and which of us truly
love Him. That is certain truth, as I know; and I also know people
who walk along the road of love, solely, as they should, in order to
serve Christ crucified, and not only do they neither ask for consolations
nor desire them, but they beg Him not to give them to them in this
life. The fifth reason is that we should be labouring in vain; for
this water does not flow through conduits, as the other does, and so
we gain nothing by fatiguing ourselves if it cannot be had at the source.
I mean that, however much we may practise meditation, however much
we do violence to ourselves,[97] and
however many tears we shed, we cannot produce this water in those ways;
it is given only to whom God wills to give it and often when the soul
is not thinking of it at all.
We are
His, sisters; may He do with us as He will and lead us along whatever
way He pleases. I am sure that if any of us achieve true humility and
detachment (I say "true" because it must not be in thought alone, for
thoughts often deceive us; it must be total detachment) the Lord will
not fail to grant us this favour, and many others which we shall not
even know how to desire. May He be for ever praised and blessed. Amen.
Describes
what is meant by the Prayer of Recollection, which the Lord generally
grants before that already mentioned. Speaks of its effects and of
the remaining effects of the former kind of prayer, which had to
do with the consolations given by the Lord.
THE effects
of this kind of prayer are numerous; some of them I shall explain.
First of all, I will say something (though not much, as I have dealt
with it elsewhere)[98] about
another kind of prayer, which almost invariably begins before this
one. It is a form of recollection which also seems to me supernatural
for it does not involve remaining in the dark, or closing the eyes,
nor is it dependent upon anything exterior. A person involuntarily
closes his eyes and desires solitude; and, without the display of any
human skill there seems gradually to be built for him a temple in which
he can make the prayer already described; the senses and all external
things seem gradually to lose their hold on him, while the soul, on
the other hand, regains its lost control.
It is
sometimes said that the soul enters within itself and sometimes that
it rises above itself;[99] but
I cannot explain things in that kind of language, for I have no skill
in it. However, I believe you will understand what I am able to tell
you, though I may perhaps be intelligible only to myself. Let us suppose
that these senses and faculties (the inhabitants, as I have said, of
this castle, which is the figure that I have taken to explain my meaning)
have gone out of the castle, and, for days and years, have been consorting
with strangers, to whom all the good things in the castle are abhorrent.
Then, realizing how much they have lost, they come back to it, though
they do not actually re-enter it, because the habits they have formed
are hard to conquer. But they are no longer traitors and they now walk
about in the vicinity of the castle. The great King, Who dwells in
the Mansion within this castle, perceives their good will, and in His
great mercy desires to bring them back to Him. So, like a good Shepherd,
with a call so gentle that even they can hardly recognize it, He teaches
them to know His voice and not to go away and get lost but to return
to their Mansion; and so powerful is this Shepherd's call that they
give up the things outside the castle which had led them astray, and
once again enter it.
I do
not think I have ever explained this before as clearly as here. When
we are seeking God within ourselves (where He is found more effectively
and more profitably than in the creatures, to quote Saint Augustine,
who, after having sought Him in many places, found Him within)[100] it
is a great help if God grants us this favour. Do not suppose that the
understanding can attain to Him, merely by trying to think of Him as
within the soul, or the imagination, by picturing Him as there. This
is a good habit and an excellent kind of meditation, for it is founded
upon a truth -- namely, that God is within us. But it is not the kind
of prayer that I have in mind, for anyone (with the help of the Lord,
you understand) can practise it for himself. What I am describing is
quite different. These people are sometimes in the castle before they
have begun to think about God at all. I cannot say where they entered
it or how they heard their Shepherd's call: it was certainly not with
their ears, for outwardly such a call is not audible. They become markedly
conscious that they are gradually retiring[101] within
themselves; anyone who experiences this will discover what I mean:
I cannot explain it better. I think I have read that they are like
a hedgehog or a tortoise withdrawing into itself[102];
and whoever wrote that must have understood it well. These creatures,
however, enter within themselves whenever they like; whereas with us
it is not a question of our will -- it happens only when God is pleased
to grant us this favour. For my own part, I believe that, when His
Majesty grants it, He does so to people who are already leaving the
things of the world. I do not mean that people who are married must
actually leave the world -- they can do so only in desire: His call
to them is a special one and aims at making them intent upon interior
things. I believe, however, that if we wish to give His Majesty free
course, He will grant more than this to those whom He is beginning
to call still higher.
Anyone
who is conscious that this is happening within himself should give
God great praise, for he will be very right to recognize what a favour
it is; and the thanksgiving which he makes for it will prepare him
for greater favours. One preparation for listening to Him, as certain
books tell us, is that we should contrive, not to use our reasoning
powers, but to be intent upon discovering what the Lord is working
in the soul; for, if His Majesty has not begun to grant us absorption,
I cannot understand how we can cease thinking in any way which will
not bring us more harm than profit, although this has been a matter
of continual discussion among spiritual persons. For my own part, I
confess my lack of humility, but their arguments have never seemed
to me good enough to lead me to accept what they say. One person told
me of a certain book by the saintly Fray Peter of Alcántara
(for a saint I believe he is), which would certainly have convinced
me, for I know how much he knew about such things; but we read it together,
and found that he says exactly what I say, although not in the same
words; it is quite clear from what he says that love must already be
awake.[103] It
is possible that I am mistaken, but I base my position on the following
reasons.
First,
in such spiritual activity as this, the person who does most is he
who thinks least and desires to do least:[104] what
we have to do is to beg like poor and needy persons coming before a
great and rich Emperor and then cast down our eyes in humble expectation.
When from the secret signs He gives us we seem to realize that He is
hearing us, it is well for us to keep silence, since He has permitted
us to be near Him and there will be no harm in our striving not to
labour with the understanding -- provided, I mean, that we are able
to do so. But if we are not quite sure that the King has heard us,
or sees us, we must not stay where we are like ninnies, for there still
remains a great deal for the soul to do when it has stilled the understanding;
if it did nothing more it would experience much greater aridity and
the imagination would grow more restless because of the effort caused
it by cessation from thought. The Lord wishes us rather to make requests
of Him and to remember that we are in His presence, for He knows what
is fitting for us. I cannot believe in the efficacy of human activity
in matters where His Majesty appears to have set a limit to it and
to have been pleased to reserve action to Himself. There are many other
things in which He has not so reserved it, such as penances, works
of charity and prayers; these, with His aid, we can practise for ourselves,
as far as our miserable nature is capable of them.
The second
reason is that all these interior activities are gentle and peaceful,
and to do anything painful brings us harm rather than help. By "anything
painful" I mean anything that we try to force ourselves to do; it would
be painful, for example, to hold our breath. The soul must just leave
itself in the hands of God, and do what He wills it to do, completely
disregarding its own advantage and resigning itself as much as it possibly
can to the will of God. The third reason is that the very effort which
the soul makes in order to cease from thought will perhaps awaken thought
and cause it to think a great deal. The fourth reason is that the most
important and pleasing thing in God's eyes is our remembering His honour
and glory and forgetting ourselves and our own profit and ease and
pleasure. And how can a person be forgetful of himself when he is taking
such great care about his actions that he dare not even stir, or allow
his understanding and desires to stir, even for the purpose of desiring
the greater glory of God or of rejoicing in the glory which is His?
When His Majesty wishes the working of the understanding to cease,
He employs it in another manner, and illumines the soul's knowledge
to so much higher a degree than any we can ourselves attain that He
leads it into a state of absorption, in which, without knowing how,
it is much better instructed than it could ever be as a result of its
own efforts, which would only spoil everything. God gave us our faculties
to work with, and everything will have its due reward; there is no
reason, then, for trying to cast a spell over them -- they must be
allowed to perform their office until God gives them a better one.
As I
understand it, the soul whom the Lord has been pleased to lead into
this Mansion will do best to act as I have said. Let it try, without
forcing itself or causing any turmoil, to put a stop to all discursive
reasoning, yet not to suspend the understanding, nor to cease from
all thought, though it is well for it to remember that it is in God's
presence and Who this God is. If feeling this should lead it into a
state of absorption, well and good; but it should not try to understand
what this state is, because that is a gift bestowed upon the will.
The will, then, should be left to enjoy it, and should not labour except
for uttering a few loving words, for although in such a case one may
not be striving to cease from thought, such cessation often comes,
though for a very short time.
I have
explained elsewhere[105] the
reason why this occurs in this kind of prayer (I am referring to the
kind which I began to explain in this Mansion). With it I have included
this Prayer of Recollection which ought to have been described first,
for it comes far below the consolations of God already mentioned, and
is indeed the first step towards attaining them. For in the Prayer
of Recollection it is unnecessary to abandon meditation and the activities
of the understanding. When, instead of coming through conduits, the
water springs directly from its source, the understanding checks its
activity, or rather the activity is checked for it when it finds it
cannot understand what it desires, and thus it roams about all over
the place, like a demented creature, and can settle down to nothing.
The will is fixed so firmly upon its God that this disturbed condition
of the understanding causes it great distress; but it must not take
any notice of this, for if it does so it will lose a great part of
what it is enjoying; it must forget about it, and abandon itself into
the arms of love, and His Majesty will teach it what to do next; almost
its whole work is to realize its unworthiness to receive such great
good and to occupy itself in thanksgiving.
In order
to discuss[106] the
Prayer of Recollection I passed over the effects or signs to be observed
in souls to whom this prayer is granted by God Our Lord. It is clear
that a dilation or enlargement of the soul takes place, as if the water
proceeding from the spring had no means of running away, but the fountain
had a device ensuring that, the more freely the water flowed, the larger
became the basin. So it is in this kind of prayer, and God works many
more wonders in the soul, thus fitting and gradually disposing it to
retain all that He gives it. So this gentle movement and this interior
dilation cause the soul to be less constrained in matters relating
to the service of God than it was before and give it much more freedom.
It is not oppressed, for example, by the fear of hell, for, though
it desires more than ever not to offend God (of Whom, however, it has
lost all servile fear), it has firm confidence that it is destined
to have fruition of Him. A person who used to be afraid of doing penance
lest he should ruin his health now believes that in God he can do everything,
and has more desire to do such things than he had previously. The fear
of trials that he was wont to have is now largely assuaged, because
he has a more lively faith, and realizes that, if he endures these
trials for God's sake, His Majesty will give him grace to bear them
patiently, and sometimes even to desire them, because he also cherishes
a great desire to do something for God. The better he gets to know
the greatness of God, the better he comes to realize the misery of
his own condition; having now tasted the consolations of God, he sees
that earthly things are mere refuse; so, little by little, he withdraws
from them and in this way becomes more and more his own master. In
short, he finds himself strengthened in all the virtues and will infallibly
continue to increase in them unless he turns back and commits offenses
against God -- when that happens, everything is lost, however far a
man may have climbed towards the crest of the mountain. It must not
be understood, however, that all these things take place because once
or twice God has granted a soul this favour; it must continue receiving
them, for it is from their continuance that all our good proceeds.
There
is one earnest warning which I must give those who find themselves
in this state: namely, that they exert the very greatest care to keep
themselves from occasions of offending God. For as yet the soul is
not even weaned but is like a child beginning to suck the breast. If
it be taken from its mother, what can it be expected to do but die?
That, I am very much afraid, will be the lot of anyone to whom God
has granted this favour if he gives up prayer; unless he does so for
some very exceptional reason, or unless he returns to it quickly, he
will go from bad to worse. I am aware how much ground there is for
fear about this and I have been very much grieved by certain people
I know, in whom I have seen what I am describing; they have left Him
Who in His great love was yearning to give Himself to them as a Friend,
and to prove His friendship by His works. I earnestly warn such people
not to enter upon occasions of sin, because the devil sets much more
store by one soul in this state than by a great number of souls to
whom the Lord does not grant these favours. For those in this state
attract others, and so they can do the devil great harm and may well
bring great advantage to the Church of God. He may see nothing else
in them except that His Majesty is showing them especial love, but
this is quite sufficient to make him do his utmost to bring about their
perdition. The conflict, then, is sterner for such souls than for others
and if they are lost their fate is less remediable. You, sisters, so
far as we know, are free from these perils. May God free you from pride
and vainglory and grant that the devil may not counterfeit these favours.
Such counterfeits, however, will be recognizable because they will
not produce these effects, but quite contrary ones.
There
is one peril of which I want to warn you, though I have spoken of it
elsewhere; I have seen persons given to prayer fall into it, and especially
women, for, as we are weaker than men, we run more risk of what I am
going to describe. It is this: some women, because of prayers, vigils
and severe penances, and also for other reasons, have poor health.
When they experience any spiritual consolation, therefore, their physical
nature is too much for them; and as soon as they feel any interior
joy there comes over them a physical weakness and languor, and they
fall into a sleep, which they call "spiritual", and which is a little
more marked than the condition that has been described. Thinking the
one state to be the same as the other, they abandon themselves to this
absorption; and the more they relax, the more complete becomes this
absorption, because their physical nature continues to grow weaker.
So they get it into their heads that it is arrobamiento, or rapture.
But I call it abobamiento, foolishness;[107] for
they are doing nothing but wasting their time at it and ruining their
health.
One person
was in this state for eight hours; she was not unconscious, nor was
she conscious of anything concerning God. She was cured by being told
to take more food and sleep and to do less penance; for, though she
had misled both her confessor and other people and, quite involuntarily,
deceived herself, there was one person who understood her. I believe
the devil would go to any pains to gain such people as that and he
was beginning to make good progress with this one.
It must
be understood that although, when this state is something that really
comes from God, there may be languor, both interior and exterior, there
will be none in the soul, which, when it finds itself near God, is
moved with great joy. The experience does not last long, but only for
a little while. Although the soul may become absorbed again, yet this
kind of prayer, as I have said, except in cases of physical weakness,
does not go so far as to overcome the body or to produce in it any
exterior sensation. Be advised, then, and, if you experience anything
of this kind, tell your superior, and relax as much as you can. The
superior should give such persons fewer hours of prayer -- very few,
indeed -- and should see that they sleep and eat well, until their
physical strength, if it has become exhausted, comes back again. If
their constitution is so weak that this does not suffice, they can
be certain that God is not calling them to anything beyond the active
life. There is room in convents for people of all kinds; let anyone
of this type, then, be kept busy with duties, and let care be taken
that she is not left alone very much, or her health will be completely
ruined. This sort of life will be a great mortification to her, but
it is here that the Lord wishes to test her love for Him by seeing
how she bears His absence and after a while He may well be pleased
to restore her strength; if He is not, her vocal prayer and her obedience
will bring her as much benefit and merit as she would have obtained
in other ways, and perhaps more.
There
may also be some who are so weak in intellect and imagination -- I
have known such -- that they believe they actually see all they imagine.
This is highly dangerous and perhaps we shall treat of it later, but
no more shall be said here; for I have written at great length of this
Mansion, as it is the one which the greatest number of souls enter.
As the natural is united with the supernatural in it, it is here that
the devil can do most harm; for in the Mansions of which I have not
yet spoken the Lord gives him fewer opportunities. May He be for ever
praised. Amen.
In which there are Four Chapters.
Begins
to explain how in prayer the soul is united with God. Describes how
we may know that we are not mistaken about this.
OH, sisters!
How shall I ever be able to tell you of the riches and the treasures
and the delights which are to be found in the fifth Mansions? I think
it would be better if I were to say nothing of the Mansions I have
not yet treated, for no one can describe them, the understanding is
unable to comprehend them and no comparisons will avail to explain
them, for earthly things are quite insufficient for this purpose. Send
me light from Heaven, my Lord, that I may enlighten these Thy servants,
to some of whom Thou art often pleased to grant fruition of these joys,
lest, when the devil transfigures himself into an angel of light, he
should deceive them, for all their desires are occupied in desiring
to please Thee.
Although
I said "to some", there are really very few who do not enter these
Mansions that I am about to describe. Some get farther than others;
but, as I say, the majority manage to get inside. Some of the things
which are in this room, and which I will mention here, are, I am sure,
attained by very few;[108] but,
if they do no more than reach the door, God is showing them great mercy
by granting them this; for, though many are called, few are chosen.[109] So
I must say here that, though all of us who wear this sacred habit of
Carmel are[110] called
to prayer and contemplation -- because that was the first principle
of our Order and because we are descendent upon the line of those holy
Fathers of ours from Mount Carmel who sought this treasure, this precious
pearl of which we speak, in such great solitude and with such contempt
for the world -- few of us[111] prepare
ourselves for the Lord to reveal it to us. As far as externals are
concerned, we are on the right road to attaining the essential virtues;
but we shall need to do a very great deal before we can attain to this
higher state and we must on no account be careless. So let us pause
here, my sisters, and beg the Lord that, since to some extent it is
possible for us to enjoy Heaven upon earth, He will grant us His help
so that it will not be our fault if we miss anything may He also show
us the road and give strength to our souls so that we may dig until
we find this hidden treasure, since it is quite true that we have it
within ourselves. This I should like to explain if the Lord is pleased
to give me the knowledge.
I said "strength
to our souls", because you must understand that we do not need bodily
strength if God our Lord does not give it us; there is no one for whom
He makes it impossible to buy His riches; provided each gives what
he has, He is content. Blessed be so great a God! But observe, daughters,
that, if you are to gain this, He would have you keep back nothing;
whether it be little or much, He will have it all for Himself, and
according to what you know yourself to have given, the favours He will
grant you will be small or great. There is no better test than this
of whether or no our prayer attains to union. Do not think it is a
state, like the last, in which we dream; I say "dream", because the
soul seems to be, as it were, drowsy, so that it neither seems asleep
nor feels awake. Here we are all asleep, and fast asleep, to the things
of the world, and to ourselves (in fact, for the short time that the
condition lasts, the soul is without consciousness and has no power
to think, even though it may desire to do so). There is no need now
for it to devise any method of suspending the thought. Even in loving,
if it is able to love, it cannot understand how or what it is that
it loves, nor what it would desire; in fact, it has completely died
to the world so that it may live more fully in God. This is a delectable
death, a snatching of the soul from all the activities which it can
perform while it is in the body; a death full of delight, for, in order
to come closer to God, the soul appears to have withdrawn so far from
the body that I do not know if it has still life enough to be able
to breathe.[112] I
have just been thinking about this and I believe it has not; or at
least, if it still breathes, it does so without realizing it. The mind
would like to occupy itself wholly in understanding something of what
it feels, and, as it has not the strength to do this, it becomes so
dumbfounded that, even if any consciousness remains to it, neither
hands nor feet can move; as we commonly say of a person who has fallen
into a swoon, it might be taken for dead. Oh, the secrets of God! I
should never weary of trying to describe them to you, if I thought
I could do so successfully. I do not mind if I write any amount of
nonsense, provided that just once in a way I can write sense, so that
we may give great praise to the Lord.
I said
that there was no question here of dreaming, whereas as in the Mansion
that I have just described the soul is doubtful as to what has really
happened until it has had a good deal of experience of it. It wonders
if the whole thing was imagination, if it has been asleep, if the favour
was a gift of God, or if the devil was transfigured into an angel of
light. It retains a thousand suspicions, and it is well that it should,
for, as I said, we can sometimes be deceived in this respect, even
by our own nature. For, although there is less opportunity for the
poisonous creatures to enter, a few little lizards, being very agile,
can hide themselves all over the place; and, although they do no harm
-- especially, as I said, if we take no notice of them -- they correspond
to the little thoughts which proceed from the imagination and from
what has been said it will be seen that they are often very troublesome.
Agile though they are, however, the lizards cannot enter this Mansion,
for neither imagination nor memory nor understanding can be an obstacle
to the blessings that are bestowed in it. And I shall venture to affirm
that, if this is indeed union with God,[113] the
devil cannot enter or do any harm; for His Majesty is in such close
contact and union with the essence of the soul[114] that
he will not dare to approach, nor can he even understand this secret
thing. That much is evident: for it is said that he does not understand
our thoughts;[115] still
less, therefore, will he understand a thing so secret that God will
not even entrust our thoughts with it.[116] Oh,
what a great blessing is this state in which that accursed one can
do us no harm! Great are the gains which come to the soul with God
working in it and neither we ourselves nor anyone else hindering Him.
What will He not give Who so much loves giving and can give all that
He will?
I fear
I may be leaving you confused by saying "if this is indeed union with
God" and suggesting that there are other kinds of union. But of course
there are! If we are really very fond of vanities the devil will send
us into transports over them; but these are not like the transports
of God, nor is there the same delight and satisfaction for the soul
or the same peace and joy. That joy is greater than all the joys of
earth, and greater than all its delights, and all its satisfactions,
so that there is no evidence that these satisfactions and those of
the earth have a common origin; and they are apprehended, too, very
differently, as you will have learned by experience. I said once[117] that
it is as if the one kind had to do with the grosser part of the body,
and the other kind penetrated to the very marrow of the bones; that
puts it well, and I know no better way of expressing it.
But I
fancy that even now you will not be satisfied, for you will think that
you may be mistaken, and that these interior matters are difficult
to investigate. In reality, what has been said will be sufficient for
anyone who has experienced this blessing, for there is a great difference
between the false and the true. But I will give you a clear indication
which will make it impossible for you to go wrong or to doubt if some
favour has come from God; His Majesty has put it into my mind only
to-day, and I think it is quite decisive. In difficult matters, even
if I believe I understand what I am saying and am speaking the truth,
I use this phrase "I think", because, if I am mistaken, I am very ready
to give credence to those who have great learning. For even if they
have not themselves experienced these things, men of great learning
have a certain instinct[118] to
prompt them. As God uses them to give light to His Church, He reveals
to them anything which is true so that it shall be accepted; and if
they do not squander their talents, but are true servants of God, they
will never be surprised at His greatness, for they know quite well
that He is capable of working more and still more. In any case, where
matters are in question for which there is no explanation, there must
be others about which they can read, and they can deduce from their
reading that it is possible for these first-named to have happened.
Of this
I have the fullest experience; and I have also experience of timid,
half-learned men whose shortcomings have cost me very dear. At any
rate, my own opinion is that anyone who does not believe that God can
do much more than this, and that He has been pleased, and is sometimes
still pleased, to grant His creatures such favours, has closed the
door fast against receiving them. Therefore, sisters, let this never
be true of you, but trust God more and more, and do not consider whether
those to whom He communicates His favours are bad or good. His Majesty
knows all about this, as I have said; intervention on our part is quite
unnecessary; rather must we serve His Majesty with humility and simplicity
of heart, and praise Him for His works and wonders.
Turning
now to the indication which I have described as[119] a
decisive one: here is this soul which God has made, as it were, completely
foolish in order the better to impress upon it true wisdom. For as
long as such a soul is in this state, it can neither see nor hear nor
understand: the period is always short and seems to the soul even shorter
than it really is. God implants Himself in the interior of that soul
in such a way that, when it returns to itself, it cannot[120] possibly
doubt that God has been in it and it has been in God; so firmly does
this truth remain within it that, although for years God may never
grant it that favour again, it can neither forget it nor doubt that
it has received it (and this quite apart from the effects which remain
within it, and of which I will speak later). This certainty of the
soul is very material.
But now
you will say to me: How did the soul see it and understand it if it
can neither see nor understand? I am not saying that it saw it at the
time,[121] but
that it sees it clearly afterwards, and not because it is a vision,
but because of a certainty which remains in the soul, which can be
put there only by God. I know of a person who had not learned that
God was in all things by presence and power and essence; God granted
her a favour of this kind, which convinced her of this so firmly[122] that,
although one of those half-learned men whom I have been talking about,
and whom she asked in what way God was in us (until God granted him
an understanding of it he knew as little of it as she), told her that
He was in us only by grace, she had the truth so firmly implanted within
her that she did not believe him, and asked others, who told her the
truth, which was a great consolation to her.[123]
Do not
make the mistake of thinking that this certainty has anything to do
with bodily form -- with the presence of Our Lord Jesus Christ, for
example, unseen by us, in the Most Holy Sacrament. It has nothing to
do with this -- only with His Divinity. How, you will ask, can we become
so convinced of what we have not seen? That I do not know, it is the
work of God. But I know I am speaking the truth; and if anyone has
not that certainty, I should say that what he has experienced is not
union of the whole soul with God but only union of one of the faculties
or some one of the many other kinds of favour which God grants the
soul. In all these matters we must stop looking for reasons why they
happened; if our understanding cannot grasp them, why should we try
to perplex it? It suffices us to know that He Who brings this to pass
is all-powerful,[124] and
as it is God Who does it and we, however hard we work, are quite incapable
of achieving it, let us not try to become capable of understanding
it either.
With
regard to what I have just said about our incapability, I recall that,
as you have heard, the Bride in the Songs says: "The King brought me" (or "put
me", I think the words are) "into the cellar of wine."[125] It
does not say that she went. It also says that she was wandering about
in all directions seeking her Beloved.[126] This,
as I understand it, is the cellar where the Lord is pleased to put
us, when He wills and as He wills. But we cannot enter by any efforts
of our own; His Majesty must put us right into the centre[127] of
our soul, and must enter there Himself; and, in order that He may the
better show us His wonders, it is His pleasure that our will, which
has entirely surrendered itself to Him, should have no part in this.
Nor does He desire the door of the faculties and senses, which are
all asleep, to be opened to Him; He will come into the centre of the
soul without using a door, as He did when He came in to His disciples,
and said Pax vobis,128 and when He left the sepulchre without
removing the stone. Later on you will see how it is His Majesty's will
that the soul should have fruition of Him in its very centre, but you
will be able to realize that in the last Mansion much better than here.
Oh, daughters,
what a lot we shall see if we desire to see no more than our own baseness
and wretchedness and to understand that we are not worthy to be the
handmaidens of so great a Lord, since we cannot comprehend His marvels.
May He be for ever praised. Amen.
Continues
the same subject. Explains the Prayer of Union by a delicate comparison.
Describes the effects which it produces in the soul. Should be studied
with great care.
YOU will
suppose that all there is to be seen in this Mansion has been described
already, but there is much more to come yet, for, as I said, some receive
more and some less. With regard to the nature of union, I do not think
I can say any thing further; but when the soul to which God grants
these favours prepares itself for them, there are many things to be
said concerning what the Lord works in it. Some of these I shall say
now, and I shall describe that soul's state. In order the better to
explain this, I will make use of a comparison which is suitable for
the purpose; and which will also show us how, although this work is
performed by the Lord, and we can do nothing to make His Majesty grant
us this favour, we can do a great deal to prepare ourselves for it.
You will
have heard of the wonderful way in which silk is made -- a way which
no one could invent but God -- and how it comes from a kind of seed
which looks like tiny peppercorns[129] (I
have never seen this, but only heard of it, so if it is incorrect in
any way the Fault is not mine). When the warm weather comes, and the
mulberry-trees begin to show leaf, this seed starts to take life; until
it has this sustenance, on which it feeds, it is as dead. The silkworms
feed on the mulberry-leaves until they are full-grown, when people
put down twigs, upon which, with their tiny mouths, they start spinning
silk, making themselves very tight little cocoons, in which they bury
themselves. Then, finally, the worm, which was large and ugly, comes
right out of the cocoon a beautiful white butterfly.
Now if
no one had ever seen this, and we were only told about it as a story
of past ages, who would believe it? And what arguments could we find
to support the belief that a thing as devoid of reason as a worm or
a bee could be diligent enough to work so industriously for our advantage,
and that in such an enterprise the poor little worm would lose its
life? This alone, sisters, even if I tell you no more, is sufficient
for a brief meditation, for it will enable you to reflect upon the
wonders and the wisdom of our God. What, then, would it be if we knew
the properties of everything? It will be a great help to us if we occupy
ourselves in thinking of these wonderful things and rejoice in being
the brides of so wise and powerful a King.
But to
return to what I was saying. The silkworm is like the soul which takes
life when, through the heat which comes from the Holy Spirit, it begins
to utilize the general help which God gives to us all, and to make
use of the remedies which He left in His Church -- such as frequent
confessions, good books and sermons, for these are the remedies for
a soul dead in negligences and sins and frequently plunged into temptation.
The soul begins to live and nourishes itself on this food, and on good
meditations, until it is full grown -- and this is what concerns me
now: the rest is of little importance.
When
it is full-grown, then, as I wrote at the beginning, it starts to spin
its silk and to build the house in which it is to die. This house may
be understood here to mean Christ. I think I read or heard somewhere
that our life is hid in Christ, or in God (for that is the same thing),
or that our life is Christ.[130] (The
exact form of this[131] is
little to my purpose.)
Here,
then, daughters, you see what we can do, with God's favour. May His
Majesty Himself be our Mansion as He is in this Prayer of Union which,
as it were, we ourselves spin. When I say He will be our Mansion, and
we can construct it for ourselves and hide ourselves in it, I seem
to be suggesting that we can subtract from God, or add to Him. But
of course we cannot possibly do that! We can neither subtract from,
nor add to, God, but we can subtract from, and add to, ourselves, just
as these little silkworms do. And, before we have finished doing all
that we can in that respect, God will take this tiny achievement of
ours, which is nothing at all, unite it with His greatness and give
it such worth that its reward will be the Lord Himself. And as it is
He Whom it has cost the most, so His Majesty will unite our small trials
with the great trials which He suffered, and make both of them into
one.
On, then,
my daughters! Let us hasten to perform this task and spin this cocoon.
Let us renounce our self-love and self-will, and our attachment to
earthly things. Let us practise penance, prayer, mortification, obedience,
and all the other good works that you know of. Let us do what we have
been taught; and we have been instructed about what our duty is. Let
the silkworm die -- let it die, as in fact it does when it has completed
the work which it was created to do. Then we shall see God and shall
ourselves be as completely hidden in His greatness as is this little
worm in its cocoon. Note that, when I speak of seeing God, I am referring
to the way in which, as I have said, He allows Himself to be apprehended
in this kind of union.
And now
let us see what becomes of this silkworm, for all that I have been
saying about it is leading up to this. When it is in this state of
prayer, and quite dead to the world, it comes out a little white butterfly.
Oh, greatness of God, that a soul should come out like this after being
hidden in the greatness of God, and closely united with Him, for so
short a time -- never, I think, for as long as half an hour! I tell
you truly, the very soul does not know itself. For think of the difference
between an ugly worm and a white butterfly; it is just the same here.
The soul cannot think how it can have merited such a blessing -- whence
such a blessing could have come to it, I meant to say, for it knows
quite well that it has not merited it at all.[132] It
finds itself so anxious to praise the Lord that it would gladly be
consumed and die a thousand deaths for His sake. Then it finds itself
longing to suffer great trials and unable to do otherwise. It has the
most vehement desires for penance, for solitude, and for all to know
God. And hence, when it sees God being offended, it becomes greatly
distressed. In the following Mansion we shall treat of these things
further and in detail, for, although the experiences of this Mansion
and of the next are almost identical, their effects come to have much
greater power; for, as I have said, if after God comes to a soul here
on earth it strives to progress still more, it will experience great
things.
To see,
then, the restlessness of this little butterfly -- though it has never
been quieter or more at rest in its life! Here is something to praise
God for -- namely, that it knows not where to settle and make its abode.
By comparison with the abode it has had, everything it sees on earth
leaves it dissatisfied, especially when God has again and again given
it this wine which almost every time has brought it some new blessing.
It sets no store by the things it did when it was a worm -- that is,
by its gradual weaving of the cocoon. It has wings now: how can it
be content to crawl along slowly when it is able to fly? All that it
can do for God seems to it slight by comparison with its desires. It
even attaches little importance to what the saints endured, knowing
by experience how the Lord helps and transforms a soul, so that it
seems no longer to be itself, or even its own likeness. For the weakness
which it used to think it had when it came to doing penance is now
turned into strength. It is no longer bound by ties of relationship,
friendship or property. Previously all its acts of will and resolutions
and desires were powerless to loosen these and seemed only to bind
them the more firmly; now it is grieved at having even to fulfil its
obligations in these respects lest these should cause it to sin against
God. Everything wearies it, because it has proved that it can find
no true rest in the creatures.
I seem
to be enlarging on this subject and there is much more that I could
say: anyone to whom God has granted this favour will realize that I
have said very little. It is not surprising, then, that, as this little
butterfly feels a stranger to things of the earth, it should be seeking
a new resting-place. But where will the poor little creature go? It
cannot return to the place it came from, for, as has been said, however
hard we try, it is not in our power to do that until God is pleased
once again to grant us this favour. Ah, Lord! What trials begin afresh
for this soul! Who would think such a thing possible after it had received
so signal a favour? But, after all,[133] we
must bear crosses in one way or another for as long as we live. And
if anyone told me that after reaching this state he had enjoyed continual
rest and joy, I should say that he had not reached it at all, but that
if he had got as far as the previous Mansion, he might possibly have
experienced some kind of consolation the effect of which was enhanced
by physical weakness, and perhaps even by the devil, who gives peace
to the soul in order later to wage a far severer war upon it.
I do
not mean that those who attain to this state have no peace: they do
have it, and to a very high degree, for even their trials are of such
sublimity and come from so noble a source that, severe though they
are, they bring peace and contentment. The very discontent caused by
the things of the world arouses a desire to leave it, so grievous that
any alleviation it finds can only be in the thought that its life in
this exile is God's will. And even this is insufficient to comfort
it, for, despite all it has gained, the soul is not wholly resigned
to the will of God, as we shall see later. It does not fail to act
in conformity with God's will, but it does so with many tears and with
great sorrow at being unable to do more because it has been given no
more capacity. Whenever it engages in prayer, this is a grief to it.
To some extent, perhaps, it is a result of the great grief caused by
seeing how often God is offended, and how little esteemed, in this
world, and by considering how many souls are lost, both of heretics
and of Moors; although its greatest grief is over the loss of Christian
souls, many of whom, it fears, are condemned, though so great is God's
mercy that, however evil their lives have been, they can amend them
and be saved.
Oh, the
greatness of God! Only a few years since -- perhaps only a few days
-- this soul was thinking of nothing but itself. Who has plunged it
into such grievous anxieties? Even if we tried to meditate for years
on end, we could not feel this as keenly as the soul does now. God
help me! If I were able to spend many days and years in trying to realize
how great a sin it is to offend God, and in reflecting that those who
are damned are His children, and my brothers and sisters, and in meditating
upon the dangers in which we live, and in thinking how good it would
be for us to depart from this miserable life, would all that suffice?
No, daughters; the grief I am referring to is not like that caused
by these kinds of meditation. That grief we could easily achieve, with
the Lord's help, by thinking a great deal about those things; but it
does not reach to the depths of our being, as does this grief, which,
without any effort on the soul's part, and sometimes against its will,
seems to tear it to pieces and grind it to powder. What, then, is this
grief? Whence does it come? I will tell you.
Have
you not heard concerning the Bride (I said this a little while back,[134] though
not with reference to the same matter) that God put her in the cellar
of wine and ordained charity in her? Well, that is the position here.
That soul has now delivered itself into His hands and His great love
has so completely subdued it that it neither knows nor desires anything
save that God shall do with it what He wills. Never, I think, will
God grant this favour save to the soul which He takes for His very
own. His will is that, without understanding how, the soul shall go
thence sealed with His seal. In reality, the soul in that state does
no more than the wax when a seal is impressed upon it -- the wax does
not impress itself; it is only prepared for the impress: that is, it
is soft -- and it does not even soften itself so as to be prepared;
it merely remains quiet and consenting. Oh, goodness of God, that all
this should be done at Thy cost! Thou dost require only our wills and
dost ask that Thy wax may offer no impediment.
Here,
then, sisters, you see what our God does to the soul in this state
so that it may know itself to be His. He gives it something of His
own, which is what His Son had in this life: He can grant us no favour
greater than that. Who could have wanted to depart from this life more
than His Son did? As, indeed, His Majesty said at the Last Supper: "With
desire have I desired."[135] "Did
not the painful death that Thou wert to die present itself to Thee,
O Lord, as something grievous and terrible?" "No, because My great
love and My desire that souls shall be saved transcend these pains
beyond all comparison and the very terrible things that I have suffered
since I lived in the world, and still suffer, are such that by comparison
with them these are nothing."
I have
often thought about this: I know that the torment which a certain person
of my acquaintance[136] has
suffered, and suffers still, at seeing the Lord offended, is so intolerable
that she would far sooner die than suffer it. And, I reflected, if
a soul which has so very little charity by comparison with Christ's
that it might be said to be almost nothing beside His felt this torment
to be so intolerable, what must the feelings of Our Lord Jesus Christ
have been, and what a life must He have lived, if He saw everything
and was continually witnessing the great offenses which were being
committed against His Father? I think this must certainly have caused
Him much greater grief than the pains of His most sacred Passion; for
there He could see the end of His trials; and that sight, together
with the satisfaction of seeing our redemption achieved through His
death, and of proving what love He had for His Father by suffering
so much for Him, would alleviate His pains, just as, when those who
have great strength of love perform great penances, they hardly feel
them, and would like to do more and more, and everything that they
do seems very small to them. What, then, would His Majesty feel when
He found Himself able to prove so amply to His Father how completely
He was fulfilling the obligation of obedience to Him and showing His
love for His neighbour? Oh, the great delight of suffering in doing
the will of God! But the constant sight of so many offences committed
against His Majesty and so many souls going to hell must, I think,
have been so painful to Him that, had He not been more than man, one
day of that grief would have sufficed to put an end to any number of
lives that He might have had, let alone to one.
Continues
the same matter. Describes another kind of union which, with the
help of God, the soul can attain, and the important part played in
it by the love of our neighbour. This chapter is of great profit.
LET us
now return to our little dove, and see something of what God gives
her in this state. It must always be understood that she will try to
advance in the service of Our Lord and in self-knowledge. If she does
no more than receive this favour, and, as though she enjoyed complete
security, begins to lead a careless life and stray from the road to
Heaven -- that is, from the Commandments -- there will happen to her
what happens to the creature that comes out of the silkworm, which
leaves seed for the production of more silkworms and then dies for
ever. I say it leaves seed because for my own part I believe it is
God's will that so great a favour should not be given in vain, and
that if the soul that receives it does not profit by it others will
do so. For, as the soul possesses these aforementioned desires and
virtues, it will always profit other souls so long as it leads a good
life, and from its own heat new heat will be transmitted to them. Even
after losing this, it may still desire others to profit, and take pleasure
in describing the favours given by God to those who love and serve
Him.
I knew
a person to whom this happened,[137] and
who, though having herself gone far astray was glad that others should
profit by the favours God had shown her, she would describe the way
of prayer to those who did not understand it, and she brought them
very, very great profit.[138] Later,
the Lord gave her new light. It is true that she had not yet experienced
the effects which have been mentioned. But how many are called by the
Lord to apostleship, as Judas was, and enjoy communion with Him, or
are called to be made kings, as Saul was, and afterwards, through their
own fault, are lost! From this, sisters, we may deduce that, if we
are to acquire increasing merit, and not, like Saul and Judas, to be
lost, our only possible safety consists in obedience and in never swerving
from the law of God; I am referring to those to whom He grants these
favours, and in fact to all.
Despite
all I have said, this Mansion seems to me a little obscure. There is
a great deal to be gained by entering it, and those from whom the Lord
withholds such supernatural gifts will do well to feel that they are
not without hope; for true union can quite well be achieved, with the
favour of Our Lord, if we endeavour to attain it by not following our
own will but submitting it to whatever is the will of God. Oh, how
many of us there are who say we do this and think we want nothing else,
and would die for this truth, as I believe I have said! For I tell
you, and I shall often repeat this, that when you have obtained this
favour from the Lord, you need not strive for that other delectable
union which has been described, for the most valuable thing about it
is that it proceeds from this union which I am now describing; and
we cannot attain to the heights I have spoken of if we are not sure
that we have the union in which we resign our wills to the will of
God.
Oh, how
much to be desired is this union! Happy the soul that has attained
to it, for it will live peacefully both in this life and in the next
as well. Nothing that happens on earth will afflict it unless it finds
itself in peril of losing God, or sees that He is offended -- neither
sickness nor poverty nor death, except when someone dies who was needed
by the Church of God. For this soul sees clearly that He knows what
He does better than it knows itself what it desires.
You must
observe that there are many kinds of grief. Some of them come upon
us suddenly, in natural ways, just as pleasures do; they may even arise
from charity, which makes us pity our neighbours, as Our Lord did when
He raised Lazarus;[139] and
these do not prevent union with the will of God, nor do they cause
a restless, unquiet passion which disturbs the soul and lasts for a
long time. They are griefs which pass quickly; for, as I said of joys
in prayer, they seem not to penetrate to the depth of the soul but
only reach these senses and faculties. They characterize all the Mansions
so far described but do not enter that which will be dealt with last
of all, from which the suspension of the faculties already referred
to is inseparable. The Lord can enrich souls in many ways and bring
them to these Mansions by many other paths than the short cut which
has been described.
But note
very carefully, daughters, that the silkworm has of necessity to die;
and it is this which will cost you most; for death comes more easily[140] when
one can see oneself living a new life, whereas our duty now is to continue
living this present life, and yet to die of our own free will.[141] I
confess to you that we shall find this much harder, but it is of the
greatest value and the reward will be greater too if you gain the victory.
But you must not doubt the possibility of this true union with the
will of God. This is the union which I have desired all my life; it
is for this that I continually beseech Our Lord; it is this which is
the most genuine and the safest.
But alas
that so few of us are destined to attain it! A person who takes care
not to offend the Lord and has entered the religious life may think
he has done everything. But oh, there are always a few little worms
which do not reveal themselves until, like the worm which gnawed through
Jonas's ivy,[142] they
have gnawed through our virtues. Such are self-love, self-esteem, censoriousness
(even if only in small things) concerning our neighbours, lack of charity
towards them, and failure to love them as we love ourselves. For, although
late in the day we may fulfil our obligations and so commit no sin,
we are far from attaining a point necessary to complete union with
the will of God.
What
do you suppose His will is, daughters? That we should be altogether
perfect, and be one with Him and with the Father,[143] as
in His Majesty's prayer. Consider what a long way we are from attaining
this. I assure you that it causes me real distress to write in this
way because I know how far I am from it myself, and entirely through
my own fault. For we do not require great favours from the Lord before
we can achieve this; He has given us all we need in giving us His Son
to show us the way. Do not think that if, for example, my father or
my brother dies, I ought to be in such close conformity with the will
of God that I shall not grieve at his loss, or that, if I have trials
or illnesses, I must enjoy bearing them. It is good if we can do this
and some times it is a matter of common sense: being unable to help
ourselves, we make a virtue of necessity. How often philosophers used
to act thus in matters of this kind, or in similar matters -- and they
were very wise men! But here the Lord asks only two things of us: love
for His Majesty and love for our neighbour. It is for these two virtues
that we must strive, and if we attain them perfectly we are doing His
will and so shall be united with Him. But, as I have said, how far
we are from doing these two things in the way we ought for a God Who
is so great! May His Majesty be pleased to give us grace so that we
may deserve to reach this state, as it is in our power to do if we
wish.
The surest
sign that we are keeping these two commandments is, I think, that we
should really be loving our neighbour; for we cannot be sure if we
are loving God, although we may have good reasons for believing that
we are, but we can know quite well if we are loving our neighbour.
And be certain that, the farther advanced you find you are in this,
the greater the love you will have for God; for so dearly does His
Majesty love us that He will reward our love for our neighbour by increasing
the love which we bear to Himself, and that in a thousand ways: this
I cannot doubt.
It is
most important that we should proceed in this matter very carefully,
for, if we have attained great perfection here, we have done everything.
Our nature being so evil, I do not believe we could ever attain perfect
love for our neighbour unless it had its roots in the love of God.
Since this is so important, sisters, let us strive to get to know ourselves
better and better, even in the very smallest matters, and take no notice
of all the fine plans which come crowding into our minds when we are
at prayer, and which we think we will put into practice and carry out
for the good of our neighbours in the hope of saving just one soul.
If our later actions are not in harmony with those plans, we can have
no reason for believing that we should ever have put them into practice.
I say the same of humility and of all the virtues; the wiles of the
devil are terrible, he will run a thousand times round hell if by so
doing he can make us believe that we have a single virtue which we
have not. And he is right, for such ideas are very harmful, and such
imaginary virtues, when they come from this source, are never unaccompanied
by vainglory; just as those which God gives are free both from this
and from pride.
I like
the way in which some souls, when they are at prayer, think that, for
God's sake, they would be glad if they could be humbled and put to
open shame -- and then try to conceal quite a slight failure. Oh, and
if they should be accused of anything that they have not done ----
! God save us from having to listen to them then! Let anyone who cannot
bear trials like that be very careful to pay no heed to the resolutions
he may have made when he was alone. For they could not in fact have
been resolutions made by the will (a genuine act of the will is quite
another matter); they must have been due to some freak of the imagination.
The devil makes good use of the imagination in practising his surprises
and deceptions, and there are many such which he can practise on women,
or on unlettered persons, because we do not understand the difference
between the faculties and the imagination, and thousands of other things
belonging to the interior life. Oh, sisters, how clearly it can be
seen what love of your neighbour really means to some of you, and what
an imperfect stage it has reached in others! If you understood the
importance of this virtue to us all you would strive after nothing
but gaining it.
When
I see people very diligently trying to discover what kind of prayer
they are experiencing and so completely wrapt up[144] in
their prayers that they seem afraid to stir, or to indulge in a moment's
thought, lest they should lose the slightest degree of the tenderness
and devotion which they have been feeling, I realize how little they
understand of the road to the attainment of union. They think that
the whole thing consists in this. But no, sisters, no; what the Lord
desires is works. If you see a sick woman to whom you can give some
help, never be affected by the fear that your devotion will suffer,
but take pity on her: if she is in pain, you should feel pain too;
if necessary, fast so that she may have your food, not so much for
her sake as because you know it to be your Lord's will. That is true
union with His will. Again, if you hear someone being highly praised,
be much more pleased than if they were praising you; this is really
easy if you have humility, for in that case you will be sorry to hear
yourself praised. To be glad when your sisters' virtues are praised
is a great thing, and, when we see a fault in someone, we should be
as sorry about it as if it were our own and try to conceal it from
others.
I have
said a great deal about this elsewhere,[145] sisters,
because I know that, if we were to fail here, we should be lost. May
the Lord grant us never to fail, and, if that is to be so, I tell you
that you must not cease to beg His Majesty for the union which I have
described. It may be that you have experienced devotion and consolations,
so that you think you have reached this stage, and even enjoyed some
brief period of suspension in the Prayer of Quiet, which some people
always take to mean that everything is accomplished. But, believe me,
if you find you are lacking in this virtue, you have not yet attained
union. So ask Our Lord to grant you this perfect love for your neighbour,
and allow His Majesty to work, and, if you use your best endeavours
and strive after this in every way that you can, He will give you more
even than you can desire. You must do violence to your own will, so
that your sister's will is done in everything, even though this may
cause you to forgo your own rights and forget your own good in your
concern for theirs, and however much your physical powers may rebel.
If the opportunity presents itself, too, try to shoulder some trial
in order to relieve your neighbour of it. Do not suppose that it will
cost you nothing or that you will find it all done for you. Think what
the love which our Spouse had for us cost Him, when, in order to redeem
us from death, He died such a grievous death as the death of the Cross.
