SPIRITUAL DIALOGUES - PART SECOND
Containing what God, and also the Spirit spoke to the Soul. Of the admirable ways by which God deprived her of all things and destroyed her imperfections.
CHAPTER I
Of a new love which God poured into her heart, by which he drew her Spirit to himself.--The Soul follows it, so that her powers are absorbed and lost in this love, and the Body, being subject to the Soul, becomes bewildered and changed from its natural condition.
After this creature had been despoiled of the world,
of the flesh, of her possessions, habits, affections, and, in short, of everything
but God, it was his will to deprive her of herself also, and to separate the
Soul from the Spirit by a suffering so acute that it is difficult to describe
it or to make it understood by one who has not experienced it. God infused into
that heart a new love, so ardent and so powerful that it absorbed into itself
the Soul, with all her powers, so that she was raised above her natural condition
and so constantly occupied within herself that she could no more take delight
in anything nor look toward heaven or earth.
This Soul was unable to correspond with the body,
which being thrown out of its natural condition, stood bewildered, not knowing
where it was, nor what to do or say. By this new method, unknown, and as yet
not understood by any creature, strange and new operations were then effected.
It was as if a chain were extended, by which God, who is Spirit, draws to himself
the spirit of man, and holds it absorbed in him. The soul, which cannot exist
without her spirit, follows, and is also thus absorbed. There she remains, unable
to do otherwise, so long as God binds the spirit to himself. The body, being
subject to the soul, is deprived of its natural ailment, which without her aid
she cannot receive, and is thrown out of its natural state. The spirit, meanwhile,
is in the fit condition for that end for which it was created by God; and, stripped
of all things, it rests in him as long as it is his good pleasure, provided that
the body can endure it and live.
The soul and the body then return to their natural
action, and having been refreshed by the repose of the spirit, God again elevates
it to its former state, and in this manner the animal imperfections are by degrees
destroyed, and the soul, thus cleansed, remains pure spirit, and the body, purged
from its evil habits and inclinations, is also pure and fitted to unite itself,
without hindrance to the Spirit in due season. This work God effects by love
alone, which is so great that it is incessantly seeking the profit and advantage
of this Soul, his beloved.
But the special work of which I speak, God performs
without the aid of the Soul, and in the following manner: he fills her with a
secret love, which deprives her of her natural life, so that the work carried
on in her is wholly supernatural. She remains meanwhile in that sea of secret
love which is so great that all who are drawn within it sink overwhelmed, for
it overpowers the memory, the understanding, and the will: and to these powers,
thus submerged in the divine love, all things else which approached them would
be their hell, for they have been deprived of the natural life for which she
Soul was created.
Such a soul, while yet in this life, shares, in
some degree, the happiness of the blessed; but this is hidden even from herself,
for it is so great and high that she is unable to comprehend it, exceeding as
it does the capacity of her powers, which look to nothing beyond, but rest satisfied
and submerged in this sea of love. When created things are spoken of, her facilities,
like fools, are powerless and lifeless, not knowing where they are; so hidden
is this work in God. The further it advances, the more contented and strong to
bear all that God pleases to accomplish in it, does the spirit become; but it
comprehends no more on the account, for the soul, as if dead, knows nothing of
this work nor takes any part therein.
But the body, which must needs live on this earth
while God is bringing the soul by its means to her destined perfection, how can
it exist, alienated in all things from its natural condition? It can no longer
use the understanding, the memory, or the will, for earthly purposes, nor does
it take pleasure in spiritual things. It will live, then, in this way, in great
torments: but God, whose works this is, is not willing that any but himself shall
take part in it, and we shall now explain the means he uses.
CHAPTER II
In what manner God keeps the Soul occupied in his love.--Of the weakness of the body and of the support it receives from creatures.--Of the extreme sufferings of Humanity, which it bemoans without complaining, being interiorly conformed to the will of God.--And how purgatory in this life is severe and sweet and full of mercy.
Sometimes this occupation of love was lightened
and the Spirit allowed to take a breath, and to communicate with the Soul and
the Soul with the Body, so that the senses of both were in a condition to receive
some aid from created things, and were thus revived. But when God withdrew the
Spirit into himself, all the rest followed it, the body remaining, as it were,
dead, and so estranged from its natural state that when it again returned to
it, it was entirely exhausted and could receive no help from any creature. Humanity
could neither eat nor drink nor give any sign of life, so that it was led as
a little child who can do nothing but weep. It could not enjoy that which nature
desires, for it was deprived of taste and drawn out of its natural state.
When the Soul had remained awhile in this condition,
she turned toward her Lord with bitter lamentation, and said to him:
Soul. Oh, my Lord, hitherto I have been
in entire peace, contentment, and delight, for all my powers were in the enjoyment
of the love bestowed on me by thee, and seemed as if they were in Paradise. Now
they are driven from their home and find themselves in an unknown and strange
country. Formerly the intellect, the memory, and the will, were conscious of
thy love in all their operations, which they performed according to thy ordination,
with great satisfaction to themselves and to all with whom they had to do: this
was through thy sweet concurrence, which gave a zest to every act. Now I am naked
and despoiled of all things and deprived of the power to love and to operate
as I was wont to do. What then shall I do, living and yet dead, without understanding,
without memory, and without will, and what is worse, without love, bereft of
which I did not believe it possible to live, since man was created for love and
for enjoyment, especially of God, his first object and his last end?
This operation, which I behold for the first time,
deprives me of love and of joy, and I am lost in myself, not knowing what to
do or say. Oh, how hard and intolerable it is to live thus, especially since
I see that all my powers accord with one another, having found repose in God,
their object and their end; and although they are ignorant of this work, yet
in their ignorance they remain content!
But abandoned and deserted Humanity, how shall
it live, parched, naked, and powerless? It has eyes and sees not; nostrils and
smells not; ears and hears not; mouth and tastes not; a heart and cannot love!
Every mode of life is found in that hidden love; but how is he to live to whom
that love brings death, whose senses are all awake, but who cannot use them as
others do?
And therefore, Humanity said, lamenting:
Me, miserable, alone in this world, what shall
I do? I shall live in wretchedness, and none will have compassion on me, because
this work will not be recognized as that of God, inasmuch as I must needs live,
almost continually, in a different way from others, whether they be seculars
or religious, and do things that will be looked upon as folly. There remains
neither order nor regularity in my life, and for this reason it will rather scandalize
than edify.
Alas! alas! that I should behold a work so cruel
to Humanity! It is as if I were in a heated furnace, with the entrance closed,
neither dead nor alive, and in dread of being reduced to ashes; yet I complain
not, for interiorly I am in conformity with the will of God, who holds me in
this condition according to a design neither known nor comprehended by the Soul
herself; but the effect is shown in the execution of the work. It is Humanity
which feels the torment, without complaining; yet if it could lament it would
be refreshed.
Oh, what a sweet and cruel purgatory is this hidden
one on earth! It is sweet in comparison with the purgatory of the life to come,
but to us it appears cruel when we see a body on this earth suffering so intolerably.
Yet what seems cruelty to us is truly a great mercy of God, although a hidden
and unsuspected one. To him who is enlightened, this work is evidently done by
love only the blind would endeavor to escape it, but in vain. We are all sinners,
and how much better is it to be cleansed here than in the other life! For whoever
suffers purgation in this life pays but a small portion of what is due, by reason
of the liberty of his free-will cooperating with infused grace. God never subjects
man to this discipline until he has obtained from him his free consent. For a
moment it is put before him, and accepting it of his own free-will, he puts himself
into the hands of God to be dealt with according to his pleasure. But this is
hidden from Humanity.
The Spirit having given consent, God binds the
Soul unto himself, and thereafter it remains in these bonds, which are never
broken. All this is done without Humanity, which must be subject to the decree
of God and the good pleasure of the Spirit. And when it finds itself in such
subjection, it cries aloud like one who is suddenly wounded, and because it does
not know the end, it is left to its lamentations while God continues his work,
giving no heed unto its cries.
CHAPTER III
Humanity, thus menaced, desires to know the cause.--This is promised her.--God, while seeking men, draws them by different means and inspirations.--Of her continual sorrow. How, in her affliction, she calls upon God to relieve her by one ray of his love.--When she comes to understand the grace God has given her, she is pierced by a new dart of love.--Of her confession and contrition.
Humanity, finding itself menaced by various sufferings,
through which it must needs pass, being unable to defend itself, sought to know
the cause for which it must endure a martyrdom without alleviation. It was answered
interiorly, that a release would be granted in due season, and it became as one
sentenced to death, who, having heard the sentence pronounced upon his evil deeds
resigns himself to an ignominious end and thus sometimes escapes it.
"In my infinite and ever-active love," spake
God, "I continually go forth in search of souls, in order to guide them
to life eternal; and, illuminating them with my light, I move the free-will of
men in many and diverse ways. When man yields to my inspirations, I increase
this light, and by its aid he sees himself imprisoned, as it were, in a foul
and dismal den, surrounded by a brood of venomous reptiles which strive to destroy
him but which he saw not before by reason of the darkness. By the light I grant
him, he sees his peril and calls upon me to free him in mercy from the miseries
which hem him in on every side. I am ever illuminating him more and more, and,
as his light grows clearer, and he discovers more plainly the dangers which surround
him, he cries aloud and with bitter tears: `O my God! take me hence and do with
me what thou wilt. I can endure all things if thou wilt release me from this
misery and peril!'"
It appeared to this Soul that God turned a deaf
ear to her lamentations; but he increased her light daily, and with its growth
her anguish likewise deepened, for by it she saw not only her own danger, but
that no way of escape was open to her. Long did she cry to God for help, for
so he had decreed, and though he gave her no reply, he yet had regard to her
perseverance, and kindled in her heart a hidden fire, while at the same time
he reveled to her her imperfections. In this manner she was for a season restrained
and overwhelmed in her own wretchedness. She ate no other bread, and lived in
continual sorrow; moreover, as the light of grace increased, the flesh was consumed
away and the blood cleansed from its superfluous humors. She was so weakened
and afflicted that she could scarcely move, and in her desolation she cried aloud
to God: Miserere mei Deus secundum magnam misericordiam tuam (Psalm 50).
And God, when he saw her entirely abandoned to
his mercy and despairing of herself, revived her with a ray of his love whereby
he made her see anew the magnitude of her defects, and that hell alone was their
fitting retribution. She recognized, moreover, the singular grace which God had
bestowed upon her, and as she beheld it, she was pierced afresh with love and
grief at her offences against such great goodness. She began to confess her sins
with such deep and extraordinary contrition that she seemed ready to perform
every possible penance of soul and body.
Contrition, confession, and satisfaction, are the
first works of the Soul after it has been enlightened by God. By this means she
is freed from her sins and imperfections, clothed with virtue, and remains thus
until she has formed the habit of virtue.
CHAPTER IV
God sends into that heart another ray of love, which, diffusing itself, fills the soul and revives the body.--There is nothing but exceeding love and joy, until this love, which is wholly from God, has completed its work.
God once more infused into the Soul another ray
of love, and by its superabundance the body also was refreshed, and there was
nothing but love and rejoicing of heart, for the Soul believed herself in paradise.
In this state the Soul continued until every love except that of God was entirely
consumed, and with his love alone she remained until she was wholly absorbed
in him. He bestowed upon her many graces and sent her many sweet consolations,
upon which she fed as do all those who share the divine love. He spoke to her
also in those loving words which, like flame, penetrate the hearts of those who
hear them. The body, moreover, was so inflamed, that it seemed as if the Soul
must quit it in order to unite herself with her Love. This was to her a season
of great peace and consolation, for all her nourishment was the food of eternal
life.
In this state she feared neither martyrdom nor
hell nor any opposition or adversity that might befall her, for it seemed to
her that with this love she could endure all things. O loving and rejoicing heart!
O happy soul that has tasted this love! Thou canst no longer enjoy or behold
aught beside, for thou hast attained thy rest for which thou wert created! O
sweet and secret love: whoever tastes thee can no longer exist without thee!
Thou, O man! who wert created for this love, how canst thou be satisfied and
at peace without it? How canst thou live? In it is comprised all that can be
desired, and it yields a satisfaction so entire that man can neither obtain it
for himself nor even conceive it until he has experienced it. O love! in which
are united all bliss and all delight, and which satisfies all desire!
Whoever could express the emotions of a heart enamored
of God, would break every other heart with longing, although it were harder than
the diamond and perverser than the devil. O flame of love! thou dost consume
all rust, and so completely removest every shadow of defect that the least imperfection
disappears before thee. So perfectly dost thou thy work in the Soul, that she
is cleansed even from those defects that are seen by thine eye alone, to which
even that which seems to us perfection is full of faults.
O Love! thou dost wholly cleanse and purify us;
thou dost enlighten and strengthen our understanding, and dost even perform for
us our necessary works, and this through thy pure love alone which meets with
no return from us.
And now this Soul, filled with astonishment at
beholding God so enamored of her, questions him concerning his love.
CHAPTER V
The Soul asks concerning this love.--Our Lord in part answers her and discourses to her upon its greatness, nature, properties, causes and effects.
Soul. O Lord! what is that soul which thou holdest
in such esteem and which we value so little? I would that I knew the cause of
thy great and pure love for the rational creature whom I behold so contrary in
all things to thee!
Our Lord listened favorably to her request and
thus replied: "If you were to know how much I love the soul, you would never
know aught further, for you would either die or continue to live by a miracle.
And if you were able to compare your own misery with that great love and goodness
which I never cease to exercise toward man, you would live in despair. So powerful
is my love that the knowledge of it would annihilate not only the body but the
soul of man, if that were possible. My love is infinite, and I cannot but love
that which I have created; my love is pure, simple, and sincere, neither can
I love except with such a love.
"To him who could in the least understand
this, every other love would seem, what in truth it is, an aberration. The cause
of my love is only love itself; and because you cannot comprehend, it be at peace
and seek not for what you cannot find. This, my love, is better comprehended
by an interior sense than by any other way, and to acquire this the action of
love must wholly detach man from himself, for he is his own worst impediment.
This love destroys malice and fits man to understand the nature of love."
O admirable work of love, which gives God to man
that he may do all that is needful to attain that perfection for which he is
designed! God gives him, too, all needful light and grace, increasing them gradually
in such a manner and to such a degree that they never fail and never exceed;
for if they fell short, man might excuse himself from doing his part because
grace was wanting to him, and if they exceeded, the work he might have done through
their means but failed to do, would be his punishment.
Grace increases in proportion as man makes use
of it. Hence it is evident that God gives man from day to day all that he needs,
no more and no less, and to each according to his condition and capacity. All
this he does for the love and benefit of man; but because we are so cold and
negligent in our endeavors, and because the instinct of the spirit is to arrive
quickly at perfection, it seems as if grace were insufficient. Yet it is not
so, and the fault is wholly ours, in not cooperating with the grace already received,
which therefore ceases to increase.
O wretched man! how shall you be excused for failing
to correspond with that great love and care which God has always bestowed and
still bestows upon you? At the hour of death you will behold and know all this,
and you will then be speechless through astonishment. Then the truth will be
made plain and you will have no power to contradict it. Shame will overpower
you for having failed to do your part in response to all this aid, this grace,
this loving care of your Lord, who, in order to satisfy your other request, speaks
to you thus:
CHAPTER VI
God reveals to the Soul that the body is to be purgatory for her in this world.--How necessary it is that man should deny himself and become wholly lost in God.--Of the misery of man when he occupies himself with aught beside, since he has no time but the present to acquire a treasure of merit.
The Lord. The cause of all the suffering through
which you have to pass is better understood by experience than by reasoning.
Yet know this: I make of the body a purgatory for the soul, and thus augment
her glory by drawing her to me through this purgatory alone. And thus I am ever
knocking at the door of the heart, and if man yields consent and opens to me,
I lead him with continual and loving care to that degree of glory for which I
created him. If he could see and understand the care with which I promote his
salvation and his welfare, quitting and despising all ease, even were the universe
at his command, he would abandon himself without reserve to me.
There is no martyrdom that he would not endure,
if it would preserve him from losing this loving care which is leading him to
the highest glory. I would draw him to me by love and faith alone, to which fear
and self-interest are opposed, because they spring from the love of self, which
cannot coexist with that pure and simple love which alone must absorb man if
he would not cast off my care of him. Without this aid he could not enter into
the clear depths of my love, for it would be a hell to him. And man, having no
other way and no other time but this life in which to purify his soul by love
and faith, and with the assistance of my grace, is it not a misery for him to
occupy himself with aught beside, and thus lose the precious time which was given
him for this work alone? Once passed, it will never more return. Listen then,
O Soul, my beloved! listen to my voice; open thine ears to thy Lord who so much
loves thee, who is ever caring for thee, and who alone is thy salvation! Steeped
in sin as thou art, sunk in such misery and weighed down with evil habits, thou
wilt never know the greatness of thy woes until my light unveils them to thee
and frees thee from them!
Soul. Thou hast given me, Lord, many persuasive
reasons why I should suffer as I have done and must still do; yet, I pray thee,
if it please thee, satisfy my understanding concerning the cause of this suffering,
for I need it greatly when I am overpowered by the vehemence of thy love.
The Lord. Thou knowest that when thou didst
yield up thy will to me thou wert sunk so low that had I not prevented thee thou
wouldst have fallen into hell. Thou wert borne away into sin and misery like
one bound hand and foot. I granted thee light and contrition, by the help of
which thou didst make thy confession. Thou hast performed many penances, and
for a long time offered prayers and alms in satisfaction for thy sins. I left
thee to struggle and torment thyself until thou wert well established in virtue,
that thou mightest not hence forward fall into sin. I allowed thee to practice
various virtues in order that thou shouldst be confirmed and take pleasure in
them and never more turn to other enjoyments.
And now the Soul began to delight in spiritual
things, and was assailed by many temptations, and was thus practised in the ways
of God. The providence of God was also made plain to her in many trials and persecutions
which she endured from men, from devils, and from herself. For, being accustomed
to wrong-doing, it was necessary for her to combat all these enemies until she
had destroyed them, inasmuch as it is they who were ever warring against her.
And if it were not for our evil habits no one would ever be tempted except in
consequence of the increase of grace, and this is a temptation which is without
danger, because God sustains by his love those upon whom he permits it to fall.
CHAPTER VII
The Soul, confirmed in virtue, begins to rest in her Lord.--God permits her to see that loving operations whereby, through his great goodness alone, he had liberated her.--The Soul, perceiving her own miseries, burns with a continual flame and is unable to speak or thing of aught besides.
When God had despoiled this Soul of her evil habits
and clothed her with virtue, and had well instructed her in the spiritual life,
she began to rest in her Lord. Her battle and her servitude being ended, she
was filled with a great joy, especially when God opened her eyes to see how greatly
he had assisted her, and how he had defended her from her enemies, both visible
and invisible, and from herself, who was the worst of all. The Soul, discerning
the providence of God, and finding herself entirely freed from her interior trials,
began to turn towards her Lord, who, designing to raise her to a higher state,
caused her to behold with the eye of divine love the loving operation which he
had accomplished in her. When she beheld his great and watchful care she was
lost in astonishment, and considered what God was and what she herself was; that
is, how low she was in misery and sorrow and how his goodness alone had rescued
her by pure and simple love, and prepared her by amorous modes and ways to receive
his divine love. This vision made her confess with bitter tears her woes and
sins; and the love which God manifested to her continued to inflame her in such
a manner that she could speak and think of nothing else. And in this state she
remained until all other loves, both spiritual and natural, were entirely consumed.
And because the love of God, inasmuch as it is
lonely and remote from other loves, is so much the greater, and more vehemently
occupies the soul (for it is ever increasing, and works secretly, not only on
others but also on itself), therefore the Soul, finding herself in this state,
enjoyed all things, interior as well as exterior, in peace, in love, and in delight;
for she did not yet know the way by which God intended to lead her, although
she was approaching it. And God spake thus to her:
CHAPTER VIII
Our Lord makes known to the Soul that she had merited nothing, having employed in purifying herself the time which was given her to increase in grace and glory.--Also he shows her that without his help she could have done nothing.
The Lord. My daughter, hitherto you have followed
the odor of my perfumes, which have guided and supported you thus far upon your
way; but without me you could have done nothing. In this way, my grace assisting,
you are purged from your sins, despoiled of your affections, habited in virtue,
burning with love, and as it were, united with me in love, and so full of delight,
both inwardly and outwardly, that you seem to yourself to be in paradise.
But understand that hitherto you have merited nothing,
for whatever you have done in the way of penance, fasting, alms, and prayers,
you were obliged to do; it was needful for you to perform them all by my light
in order to cancel your debts. And having not the means wherewith to satisfy,
I have granted you these through love for you, that you might by them make satisfaction:
and know, that all this time which you have spent in satisfying for your sins
is as if it were lost, for it was given you that you might increase in love,
grace, and glory; therefore, you have merited nothing, although it may seem to
you that you have done great things, and such as are highly esteemed by those
who do not understand them.
It was also necessary that you should be clothed
with the virtues which attract love, that they might protect you from evil and
prepare you to receive greater light; and knowing that of yourself you were unfit
for any good work and also incapable of it, I have given you (in order that you
might work and persevere in work) a hidden love, by whose operations all your
facilities and also your bodily senses should be voluntarily disposed to make
satisfaction. I have given you, moreover, the power to love me, in order to detach
you from every other love, and finally I have conducted you to the portals of
my true and perfect love, beyond which you have not advanced, for to do so is
beyond your strength. And with all this you are not yet content, for you have
the instinct to advance, although you know not even what you desire.
CHAPTER IX
The Spirit, seeing the Soul brought to the gates of divine love, resolves to subject both Soul and Body to severe suffering.--He tells the Soul that he will separate himself from her, and that in order to recover her first purity, she must pass through many trials.
When the Spirit saw the Soul led to the portals
of divine love, from which she was neither able to advance nor to recede, and
saw, moreover, that she had been conducted thus far with much assistance from
God, who had pleasantly occupied without wholly satisfying all her facilities,
he thus spake:
Spirit. Now is the time for me to repay
the Soul for what she has done to me. For many years I have been subject to her,
and, with cruelties too great to be described, excluded from my home; for she
was so restrained and oppressed by earthly things that the powers I possessed
were not sufficient to enable me to attend to my own spiritual concerns. I called
to my aid the certainty of death, the fear of hell, the hope of heaven, preaching,
and all other aids afforded by the Church; and also divine inspirations, infirmities,
poverty, and other worldly tribulations, in order that, deprived of all things
earthly, she might, in her extreme need, when all other resources had failed
her, have recourse unto God. But, though in her great necessity she sometimes
turned to him and promised with his assistance to do great things, yet when that
moment was passed she returned to her accustomed practices and I to my prison;
and this has happened many times. But now that I see my Soul, with her senses,
and also those of the body, arrived at a point from which she can neither advance
nor recede, I will subject and restrain them all in such a way that they can
neither impede nor retard me. Complaints will not avail them; they will be as
much at my discretion as I have been at theirs; but I shall not be as cruel to
them as they have been to me, for they never afforded me the smallest help, even
when I was most oppressed and surrounded by my enemies. I will keep the Soul
in restraint and in subjection, and inflict upon her, without mercy, all the
suffering she can bear. I have her in my hands, and I will leave her so naked,
desolate, and forsaken, that she will know not where to turn except for the bare
necessities which will keep her alive to suffer a yet longer martyrdom; and this
will be in secret in order that no one may give her any remedy. Not one of her
members shall escape suffering until my work is finished; whosoever shall behold
her in such torments will wish her dead, and she would herself wish it if she
could do so without sin.
Soul. I have heard enough of your threats,
and am sufficiently well acquainted with the prospect of what I am to suffer;
but the reason of this suffering I have not been able to understand, although
it has been promised to me.
Spirit. I mean to separate myself from you,
and for the present I will answer you in words; hereafter I will do so more effectually
by deeds which will make you envy the dead.
You have been conducted even to this threshold
by many gentle means and divine graces, which you have assumed and appropriated
to yourself, and have hidden them with a subtlety of which you are not yourself
aware, for they have become your by such long use that no eye but that of God
can discern them; neither would you believe it, did not God himself declare it.
Gradually you will come to understand by experience, that even in the first light
that was given you, you appropriated your share, and so of contrition, confession,
satisfaction, prayer, and other virtuous acts; of interior and exterior detachment;
of the sweet love of God, of the alienation of the bodily senses, so that they
appeared as if dead because they were entirely controlled by the divine operation.
And inasmuch as those works had long sustained your faculties, and the love of
God was so strong and powerful within you, you seemed to yourself to be in heaven,
and enjoyed it all within yourself as if it were yours by right, and had been
bestowed on you by God as the reward of your merits. You did not return it wholly
and entirely to him as you should have done in all simplicity and uprightness,
and in this you have been dishonest and have defiled yourself, and therefore
you must suffer all I have foretold you. Learn what a task it is to purge a soul
here below and restore her with no further purgatory to her pristine purity.
And when it is God's will to elevate her to a high degree of glory, it becomes
more especially necessary, not alone to purify her but to make her pass through
many cruel sufferings that she may gain merit by many and grievous pains.
When the time came which pleased God, he drew the
Spirit so secretly and closely to himself, that it held no communication with
the Soul nor the Soul with the Body, and both were left so bare and dry that
it was hard for them to live at all, and especially at the first, when they were
passing from one extreme to the other, although God was secretly attracting them
by little and little. At length that befell the Soul, which happens to a bombshell,
when the fire being applied it explodes and loses both fire and powder; thus
the Soul, having conceived the fire of pure, divine love, suddenly lost that
which had before inflamed her, and, deprived of all sensibility, could never
more return to it. She resembled a musical instrument which, while furnished
with strings, sends forth sweet melody, but, being deprived of them, is silent.
So she, who had hitherto with the senses of both Soul and body, discoursed such
sweet music, now, bereft of these, remained stringless and mute. When she found
herself closely pressed by the Spirit, with no hope of relief (for she remembered
all his threats), she cried to God, and said:
CHAPTER X
The Soul discovers that she must make satisfaction voluntarily, and it seems to her that she is abandoned by God.--She calls upon others for help.--How Humanity, by whom she had been threatened, is put to the proof.--Of the sufferings of the Body when deprived of communications with the Spirit.
Soul. Lord, I see it to be necessary that I should
atone for my dishonest appropriation of thy spiritual graces, and I begin to
understand that as I have consented to take part with the body in sin, and have
found pleasure in it, I must also consent that it shall be expiated by my own
sufferings as well as by those of the body, and that I must pay, even to the
last farthing. I see that I have secretly robbed thee of what was thine, and
have appropriated many satisfactions, and delighted in many spiritual graces,
without referring them all to thee as was my duty; namely, many sweet consolations
in speaking, hearing, tasting, and in various other things. I perceive that this
robbery was very serious, since nothing more precious could be stolen. For these
are the things which essentially differ from all that is man's own. Nothing is
of real value to him, except that which it pleases thee to give him by thy grace.
Therefore it is necessary for us to comprehend that every grace proceeds from
thee, and to thee it must be returned, if we would not be robbers: this robbery
originated with the devil by whom we are continually tempted and by whom many
are led astray.
But how shall I satisfy myself for this great and
subtle sin, since I have neither strength nor feeling, either of soul or body?
I know not whether I am alive or dead. It is hard to live in this world, and
yet I must both live and suffer greatly, in order to expiate my offences. I seem
to be abandoned by the divine and through the knowledge of that which, not to
others but to thee alone, my God, is fully known, that I would always rob thee.
Finding myself deserted on every side, give me at least one who can understand
and comfort me, as is done to the condemned, that they may not wholly despair.
Then God comforted Humanity somewhat, and afterwards
exercised her in that with which she had before been threatened. The body by
degrees became infirm, being deprived of the correspondence of the Spirit, which
held the powers of the Soul suspended and engaged, while the body remained naked,
famished, wretched, and unconscious that this was the work of God. Hence, it
rapidly consumed away and felt every slight evil as a great calamity, and its
infirmity increased to such a degree that if it kept the Soul intent on some
hidden operation, the body would not have been able to support itself. Exteriorly,
too, he gave her a director adapted to her need, who comprehended the work of
God within her. This was a great consolation, for her natural forces could not
have sustained her under trials so great that they could neither be described
by human tongue, nor, if described, be understood. Even if witnessed by the bodily
eye they would be incomprehensible, so much greater was the interior suffering
than the exterior, and so impossible was it for any way or kind of relief to
be found. But God now and then afforded Humanity a little relief, and she seemed
restored, although the interior oppression was constantly increasing. So she
wandered about the house, wasting away, and ignorant of the nature of her malady,
so subtle, hidden, and penetrating was that divine work.
Then she was assailed in a different manner and
with strange and new afflictions, against which she struggled with all her powers.
When God afflicted the body, he fortified the mind, and when the mind was suffering,
he consoled the body, and thus supported each in turn. She continued in this
state for about ten years, Humanity being always more and more unconscious of
those hidden operations by which God held her, as it were, bound.
Afterwards he took from her her confessor, and
everything else towards which she looked for help. Then the Spirit drew her forcibly
to himself, because he, in turn, was drawn by God with a hidden love, so penetrating
and powerful, though without delight, that it melted into itself both Soul and
Spirit, while the bodily senses, with everything else, were absorbed in God.
This hidden love checked, purged, and exterminated
all those sins of robbery which had been so secretly and cunningly committed,
and thus in secret the penance was performed while the cause remained concealed.
Humanity was so oppressed and crushed that she was constrained to cry to our
Lord in piteous accents:
"Oh, my God! how hast thou abandoned me to
such cruel sufferings, both interior and exterior! Yet, while I suffer I am still
unable to complain, for even when I am most grievously afflicted, I am in secret
satisfied by a sharp and searching flame of love, which is gradually consuming
all my natural and spiritual strength, so that it is most strange to see a creature
living thus deprived of vital force. My confessor, too, is taken from me, so
that I can no longer take counsel of him, and so weak have I become that I can
turn to nothing with any spirit. Interiorly I find the secret strength which
was given me decaying, nor am I in a condition to receive anything from heaven,
or earth, but am left like one dead. Yet I must live so long as it pleases God,
though I know not how I can live without the help which I am not even able to
receive when it is offered me."
CHAPTER XI
Of the brightness of eternal glory, and of the strength imparted to Humanity by a glimpse of it.--How God draws the Spirit to himself, so that it may be wholly occupied in him.--Of its sufferings.--What it is to live on earth while the Spirit is in heaven, and through what sufferings one must pass in order to escape purgatory.
Towards the close of this process, God came to
her aid in a different manner. He sometimes revealed to her a ray of that glory
towards which she approached, as the affections of the Soul and the bodily sensations
became weaker. This revived her so much, both interiorly and exteriorly, that
it supported her for many days; for although she beheld it but a moment, the
impression, without any renewal, remained within. And she saw that God held her
Spirit so fixed upon himself that he did not allow it to weaver for an instant.
The longer this continued the more difficult it was to withdraw from it, the
difficulty being too great for words to express. And this was by reason of that
hidden Spirit which found itself drawn into greater depths the higher it ascended
towards God, and continually losing its own strength as it became more and more
absorbed in God, who thus spake to the Soul:
The Lord. Henceforth I will not have you
interfere with my designs, for you would always rob me by appropriating to yourself
what is not yours. I will finish the work, and you shall be unconscious of it.
I will separate you from your Spirit, and he shall be lost in my abyss.
Humanity on hearing this was filled with consternation,
and said:
"I am in misery. I do not live, and yet I
cannot die, but find myself every day more and more oppressed, and, as it were,
consuming away. When I beheld what it was to be centered entirely in God without
a single moment's respite, and that I was myself the miserable creature who was
to support this siege, and how very terrible it was, all my flesh was in torment.
To remain thus steadily occupied in God, without a moment's wavering, is a thing
for the blessed in heaven, who, lost to themselves, live only in him. That I
should live in this way upon earth while my Spirit is in heaven, is a work surpassing
all that I have known, and is the most terrible suffering that can be endured
in this world."
It was shown to Humanity that whoever would enter
life eternal without passing through purgatory, must die to this world while
yet in it; that is, that all the imperfections of the Soul must be so consumed
that she may remain absorbed in God. "But hearing thee weep, O Humanity!
it is plain that thou art not yet dead, and thou must still live until thou findest
life without impediment. When thy vivacity is all passed away, and thy sensibility
is weakened, thou wilt have less to endure. Thou wilt not anticipate thy sufferings
afar off as now thou dost, with agitation, but wilt abandon thyself to God, not
through the powers of the Soul, nor through any instinct of nature, but purely
because God has taken upon himself all these things, and works so secretly and
subtly that he in whom the work is wrought is not himself aware of it."
This God does, that man may be sensible of the
suffering inflicted on him, for otherwise he would feel it less, and if he comprehended
what was going on, he would always be guilty of robbery, even if he were not
led to it by his evil instincts, united to the bad habits, hidden in the depths
of his soul. But God, knowing that man could not live in so great an extremity
if he did not provide for him, does so secretly and in various modes and times,
according to his necessity. At first the assistance is very evident, that he
may with love persevere and form the habit of doing spiritual works; then, by
degrees, God withdraws these supports whenever he finds the man strong enough
to endure the battle. The greater strength he has at the beginning, the greater
suffering he may look for toward the end, although God always assists him according
to his necessities; yet he does this far more secretly than openly, and never
ceases but at death.