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PART
I. ON THE WAY
TO GOD
THE
FIRST DEGREE: CONVERSION.
1.
The first degree is the return of the soul to God, when, being truly converted,
it begins to subsist by means of grace.
THE
SECOND DEGREE: THE EFFECTUAL TOUCH IN THE WILL.
2.
The soul then receives an effectual touch in the will, which invites it
to recollection, and instructs it that God is within, and must be sought there;
that He is present in the heart, and must be there enjoyed.
3.
This discovery, in the beginning, is the source of very great joy to the soul,
as it is an intimation or pledge of happiness to come; in its very commencement,
the road it is to pursue is opened and is shown to be that of the inward life.
This knowledge is the more admirable, as it is the spring of all the felicity of
the soul, and the solid foundation of interior progress; for those souls who
tend toward God merely by the intellect, even though they should enjoy a
somewhat spiritual contemplation, yet can never enter into intimate union, if
they do not quit that path and enter this of the inward touch, where the whole
working is in the will.
4.
Those who are led in this way, though conducted by a blind abandonment, yet
experience a savory knowledge. They never walk by the light of the intellect,
like the former, who receive distinct lights to guide them, and who, having a
clear view of the road, never enter those impenetrable passes of the hidden will
which are reserved for the latter. The former proceed upon the evidence
furnished by their illuminations, assisted by their reason, and they do well;
but the latter are destined to pursue blindly an unknown course, which,
nevertheless, appears perfectly natural to them, although they seem obliged to
feel their way. They go, however, with more certainty than the others, who are
subject to be misled in their intellectual illuminations; but these are guided
by a supreme Will which conducts them howsoever it will. And further, all the
more immediate operations are performed in the centre of the soul, that is, in
the three powers reduced to the unity of the will, where they are all absorbed,
insensibly following the path prescribed for them by that touch to which we have
before referred.
5.
These latter are they who pursue the way of Faith and absolute Abandonment. They
have neither relish nor liberty for any other path; all else constrains and
embarrasses them. They dwell in greater aridities than the others, for as there
is nothing distinct to which their minds are attached, their thoughts often
wander and have nothing to fix them. And as there are differences in souls, some
having more sensible delights, and others being drier, so it is with those who
are led by the will; the former sort have more relish and less solid
acquirement, and should restrain their too eager disposition, and suffer their
emotions to pass, even when they seem burning with love; the latter seem harder
and more insensible, and their state appears altogether natural; nevertheless,
there is a delicate something in the depth of the will, which serves to nourish
them, and which is, as it were, the condensed essence of what the others
experience in the intellect and in ardor of purpose.
6.
Still, as this support is exceedingly delicate, it frequently becomes
imperceptible, and is hidden by the slightest thing. This gives rise to great
suffering, especially in times of tribulation and temptation; for as the relish
and support are delicate and concealed, the will partakes of the same character
in a high degree, so that such souls have none of those strong wills. Their
state is more indifferent and insensible, and their way more equable; but this
does not hinder them from having as severe and even more serious trouble than
others; for nothing being done in them by impulse, everything takes place, as it
were, naturally, and their feeble, insensible, hidden wills cannot be found, to
make head against their foes. Their fidelity, however, often excels that of the
others. Notice the striking difference between Peter and John; one seems to be
overflowing with extraordinary zeal, and falls away at the voice of a
maid-servant; the other makes no external manifestation, and remains faithful
unto the end.
7.
You will ask me, then, if these souls are urged on by no violent influence, but
walk in blindness, do they do the will of God? They do, more truly, although
they have no distinct assurance of it; His will is engraved in indelible
characters on their very inmost recesses, so that they perform with a cold and
languid, but firm and inviolable, abandonment, what the others accomplish by the
drawings of an exquisite delight.
8.
Thus they go on under the influence of this divine touch, from one degree to
another, by a faith more or less sensibly savory, and experience constant
alternations of aridity and enjoyment of the presence of God, but ever finding
that the enjoyment becomes continually deeper and less perceptible, and thus
more delicate and interior. They discover, too, that in the midst of their
aridity, and without any distinct illumination, they are not the less
enlightened; for this state is luminous in itself, though dark to the soul that
dwells in it. And so true is this, that they find themselves more acquainted
with the truth; I mean that truth implanted in their interior, and which causes
everything to yield to the Will of God. This divine Will becomes more familiar
to them, and they are enabled, in their insipid way, to penetrate a thousand
mysteries that never could have been discovered by the light of reason and
knowledge. They are insensibly and gradually preparing, without being aware of
it, for the states that are to follow.
9.
The trials of this state are alternations of dryness and facility. The former
purified the attachment or tendency and natural relish that we have for the
enjoyment of God. So that the whole of this degree is passed in these
alternations of enjoyment, aridity, and facility, without any intermixture of
temptations, except very transitory ones, or certain faults; for in every state,
from the beginning onward, the faults of nature are much more liable to overtake
us in times of aridity than in seasons of interior joy, when the unction of
grace secures us from a thousand evils. In all the preceding states thus far,
the soul is engaged in combatting its evil habits, and in endeavoring to
overcome them by all sorts of painful self-denial.
10.
In the beginning, when God turned its look inward, he so influenced it against
itself, that it was obliged to cut off all its enjoyments, even the most
innocent, and to load itself with every kind of affliction. God gives no respite
to some in this regard, until the life of Nature, that is, of the exterior
senses as manifested in appetites, likes and dislikes, is wholly destroyed.
11.
This destruction of the appetites and repugnances of the outward senses, belongs
to the second degree, which I have called the effectual touch in the will,
and in which the highest and greatest virtue is practised, especially when the
inward drawing is vigorous and the unction very savory. For there is no sort of
contrivance that God does not discover to the soul, to enable it to conquer and
overcome self in everything; so that at length, by this constant practice,
accompanied by the gracious unction before referred to, the spirit gets the
upper hand of nature, and the interior part comes under subjection without
resistance. There is, then, no further trouble from this source, any more than
if all external feeling had been taken away. This state is mistaken, by those
who are but little enlightened, for a state of death; it is, indeed, the death
of the senses, but there is yet a long way to that of the spirit.
THE
THIRD DEGREE: PASSIVITY AND INTERIOR SACRIFICE.
12.
When we have for some time enjoyed the repose of a victory that has cost us so
much trouble, and suppose ourselves forever relieved from an enemy whose whole
power has been destroyed, we enter into the third degree, next in order to the
other, which is a way of faith more or less savory, according to the state. We
enter into a condition of alternate dryness and facility, as I have stated, and
in this dryness, the soul perceives certain exterior weaknesses, natural
defects, which, though slight, take it by surprise; it feels, too, that the
strength it had received for the struggle, is dying away. This is caused by the
loss of our active, inward force; for although the soul, in the second degree,
imagines itself to be in silence before God, it is not entirely so. It does not
speak, indeed, either in heart or by mouth, but it is in an active striving
after God and constant outbreathing of love, so that, being the subject of the
most powerful amorous activity, exerted by the Divine Love towards Himself, it
is continually leaping, as it were, towards its object, and its activity is
accompanied by a delightful and almost constant peace. As it is from this
activity of love that we acquire the strength to overcome nature, it is then
that we practice the greatest virtues and most severe mortifications.
13.
But just in proportion as this activity decays, and is lost in an amorous
passivity, so does our strength of resistance sink and diminish, and, as this
degree advances, and the soul becomes more and more passive, it becomes more and
more powerless in combat. As God becomes strong within, so do we become weak.
Some regard this impossibility of resistance as a great temptation, but they do
not see that all our labor, aided and assisted by grace, can only accomplish the
conquest of our outward senses, after which God takes gradual possession of our
interior, and becomes Himself our purifier. And as He required all our
watchfulness while He continued us in amorous activity, so He now requires all
our fidelity to let Him work, while He begins to render Himself Lord by the
subjection of the flesh to the Spirit.
14.
For it must be observed that all our outward perfection depends upon, and must
follow the inward; so that when we are employed in active devotion, however
simple, we are actively engaged against ourselves just as simply.
15.
The second degree accomplishes the destruction of the outward senses, the third,
that of the inward, and this is brought about by means of this savory
passivity. But as God is then working within, He seems to neglect the
outward, and hence the reappearance of defects, though feebly and only in a time
of aridity, which we thought extinct.
16.
The nearer we approach the termination of the third degree, the longer and more
frequent are our aridities, and the greater our weakness. This is a purification
which serves to destroy our internal feelings, as the amorous activity put an
end to our external, and in each degree, there are alternations of dryness and
enjoyment. The dryness serves as a purifier from its barrenness and weakness. As
soon as we cease, from inability, to practice mortifications of our own
fashioning, those of Providence take their place—the crosses which God
dispenses according to our degree. These are not chosen by the soul; but the
soul, under the interior guidance of God, receives such as He appoints.
THE
FOURTH DEGREE: NAKED FAITH.
17.
The fourth degree is naked faith; here we have nothing but inward and
outward desolation; for the one always follows the other.
18.
Every degree has its beginning, progress, and consummation.
19.
All that has hitherto been granted and acquired with so much labor, is here
gradually taken away.
20.
This degree is the longest, and only ends with total death, if the soul be
willing to be so desolated as to die wholly to self. For there is an infinite
number of souls that never pass the first degrees, and of those who reach the
present state there are very few in whom its perfect work is accomplished.
21.
This desolation takes place in some with violence, and although they suffer more
distress than others, yet they have less reason to complain, for the very
severity of their affliction is a sort of consolation. There are others who
experience only a feebleness and a kind of disgust for everything, which has the
appearance of being a failure in duty and unwillingness to obey.
22.
We are first deprived of our voluntary works, and become unable to do what we
did in the preceding degrees; and as this increases, we begin to feel a general
inability in respect to everything, which, instead of diminishing, enlarges day
by day. This weakness and inability gradually taking possession of us, we enter
upon a condition in which we say: “For that which I do, I allow not; for
what I would, that do I not; but what I hate, that do I.” (Rom. vii. 15.)
23.
After being thus deprived of all things, both inward and outward, which are not
essential, the work begins upon those which are; and in proportion as the
virtuous life becoming a Christian, which we regarded with so much complacency,
disappears,[9]
we are likewise spoiled of a certain interior delight and substantial support.
As this support becomes weaker and more subtile, the more perceptible becomes
its loss. It is to be remarked, however, that there is no loss except to our own
consciousness, as it still exists in the soul, but imperceptibly and without
apparent action. If it were not hidden, the death and loss of self could not be
accomplished. But it retires within, and shuts itself up so closely that the
soul is not aware of its presence.
24.
Do you ask why this course is pursued? The whole object of the way thus far has
been to cause the soul to pass from multiplicity to the distinct sensible
without multiplicity; from the distinct sensible to the distinct insensible;
then to the sensible indistinct, which is a general delight much less attractive
than the other. It is vigorous in the beginning and introduces the soul into the
perceived, which is a purer and less exquisite pleasure than the first; from the
perceived, into faith sustained and working by love; passing in this way from
the sensible to the spiritual, and from the spiritual to naked faith, which,
causing us to be dead to all spiritual experiences, makes us die to ourselves
and pass into God, that we may live henceforth from the life of God only.
25.
In the economy of grace, then, we begin with sensible things, continue with
those which are spiritual, and end by leading the soul gradually into its
centre, and uniting it with God.
26.
The more deeply this imperceptible support retires, the more does it knit the
soul together, so that it cannot continue to multiply itself among a thousand
things which it can no longer either affect or even perceive; and, entirely
stripped, it is gradually obliged to desert even itself.
27.
It is stripped without mercy, then, equally and at the same time, of everything
both within and without, and what is worst of all, is delivered over to
temptations; and the more fully it is thus given up to temptation, the more
completely is it deprived of strength to resist them from without; thus it is
weakened still farther at the very time when it is subjected to more violent
attacks, and finally its internal support is removed, which, while it served as
a refuse and asylum, would be an evidence of the goodness of God, and of its
faithfulness to itself.
28.
So you may see a man pursued by a powerful adversary; he fights, and defends
himself as well as he is able, always contriving, however, to get nearer and
nearer to a stronghold of safety; but the longer he fights the weaker he
becomes, while the strength of his opponent is constantly increasing. What shall
he do? He will gain the portal of the stronghold as adroitly as he can, for
there he will find abundant aid. But, on reaching it, he sees that it is closed,
and finds that, far from rendering him any assistance, the keepers have
barricaded every loophole of refuge; he must fall into the hands of his powerful
enemy, whom he recognizes, when, defenceless and in despair, he has given
himself up, as his best and truest friend.
29.
Be sure, then, that this degree comprehends all these things; the privation of
every good, the accumulation of all sorts of weaknesses, powerlessness of
defence, no interior asylum; God himself often appears angry; and, to crown all,
temptations.
30.
Willingly, I think I hear you say, provided I might be sure that my will was not
in harmony with the malignity of nature and the weaknesses of the senses. Ah!
you would be too happy; but that cannot be. In proportion as you become
enfeebled and destitute of every operation and activity of love, however
insignificant, the will, which was founded in that vigor of love, becoming
weaker day by day, gradually disappears; and vanishing thus, it is certain that
it takes no part in anything that is passing in the man, but is separate. But as
it does not manifest itself anywhere, by any sign, it affords no assured support
to the soul, but the contrary; for, no longer finding the will in an attitude of
resistance, the soul believes that it is consenting to everything, and that it
has joined in with the animal will, which is the only one perceptible.
31.
You will, perhaps, remind one that I have before stated that, in the first
contest of amorous activity, nature and the senses had become, as it were,
extinguished and subdued. It is true; but the spirit of self, by the very
victories that grace had thus acquired for it, has become high-minded, more
tenacious of what it esteems good, and still more indomitable. God, who is
determined to subdue it, makes use for that purpose, of an apparent resurrection
of that same nature which the soul supposed dead. But observe that He does not
use nature until He has extracted its malignity, destroyed it and separated the
superior will from that which rendered it violent and criminal. He extracts the
venom of the viper, and then uses it as an antidote to the spirit. Whoever shall
become acquainted with the admirable economy of grace and the wisdom of God in
bringing man to a total sacrifice of self, will be filled with delight,
and, insensible as he may be, will expire with love. The little traces of it
which have been revealed to my heart, have often overwhelmed me with ecstasy and
transport.
32.
Fidelity in this degree requires us to suffer spoliation to the whole extent of
the designs of God, without being anxious about ourselves, sacrificing to God
all our interests both for time and for eternity. Nothing must be made a pretext
for reserving or retaining the slightest atom, for the least reservation is the
cause of an irreparable loss, as it prevents our death, from being total. We
must let God work his absolute pleasure, and suffer the winds and tempests to
beat upon us from every quarter, submerged, as we may often be, beneath the
tumultuous billows.
33.
A wonderful thing is here perceived; far from being estranged by our suffering
and wretched state, it is then that God appears; and if any weakness has been
apparent, He gives us some token of his immediate presence, as if to assure the
soul for a moment, that He was with it in its tribulation. I say for a
moment, for it is of no service subsequently, as a support, but is rather
intended to point out the way and invite the soul to the further loss of self.
34.
These states are not continuous in their violence; there are remissions, which,
while they afford space for taking breath, serve, at the same time, to render
the subsequent trial more painful. For nature will make use of anything to
sustain its life, as a drowning man will support himself in the water by
clinging to the blade of a razor, without adverting to the pain it causes him,
if there be nothing else within his reach.
THE
FIFTH DEGREE: MYSTICAL DEATH.
35.
Attacked thus on all sides by so many enemies, without life and without support,
we have no resource but to expire in the arms of Love. When death is complete,
the most terrible states cause no further trouble. We do not recognize death
from the fact of having passed through all these states, but by an absolute want
of power to feel pain, to think of or care for self, and, by our indifference to
remaining there forever, without manifesting the slightest sign of vitality.
Life is evidenced by a will for or repugnance to something; but here, in this
death of the soul, all things are alike. It remains dead and insensible to
everything that concerns itself, and, let God reduce it to what extremity He
will, feels no repugnance. It has no choice between being Angel or Demon,[10]
because it has no longer any eyes for self. It is then that God has placed all
its enemies beneath his footstool, and, reigning supreme, takes and possesses it
the more fully, as it has the more completely deserted itself. But this takes
place by degrees.
36.
There remains for a long time, even after death, a trace of the living heat,
which is only gradually dissipated. All states effect somewhat towards cleansing
the soul, but here the process is completed.
37.
We do not die spiritually, once for all, as we do naturally; it is accomplished
gradually; we vibrate between life and death, being sometimes in one and
sometimes in the other, until death has finally conquered life. And so it is in
the resurrection; an alternate state of life and death, until life has finally
overcome death.
38.
Not that the new life does not come suddenly. He who was dead, finds himself
living, and can never afterward doubt that he was dead and is alive again; but
it is not then established; it is rather a disposition toward living, then a
settled state of life.
39.
The first life of grace began in the sensible, and sank continually inward
toward the centre, until, having reduced the soul to unity, it caused it to
expire in the arms of love; for all experience this death, but each by means
peculiar to himself. But the life that is now communicated arises from within;
it is, as it were, a living germ which has always existed there, though
unobserved, and which demonstrates that the life of grace has never been wholly
absent, however it may have been suffered to remain hidden. There it remained
even in the midst of death; nor was it less death because life was concealed in
it; as the silk-worm lies long dead in the chrysalis, but contains a germ of
life that awakes it to a resurrection. This new life, then, buds in the centre,
and grows from there; thence it gradually extends over all the faculties and
senses, impregnating them with its own life and fecundity.
40.
The soul, endued with this vitality, experiences an infinite contentment; not in
itself, but in God; and this especially when the life is well advanced.
41.
But, before entering upon the effects of this admirable life, let me say, that
there are some who do not pass through these painful deaths; they only
experience a mortal languor and fainting, which annihilate them, and cause them
to die to all.
42.
Many spiritual persons have given the name of death, to the earlier
purifications, which are, indeed, a death in relation to the life communicated,
but not a total death. They result in an extinguishment of some one of the lives
of nature, or of grace; but that is widely different from a general extinction
of all life.
43.
Death has various names, according to our different manner of expression or
conception. It is called a departure, that is, a separation from self in
order that we may pass into God; a loss, total and entire, of the will of
the creature, which causes the soul to be wanting to itself, that it may exist
only in God. Now, as this will is in everything that subsists in the creature,
however good and holy it may be, all these things must necessarily be destroyed,
so far as they so subsist, and so far as the good will of man is in them, that
the will of God alone may remain. Everything born of the will of the flesh and
the will of man, must be destroyed. Then nothing but the will of God is left,
which becomes the principle of the new life, and, gradually animating the old
extinguished will, takes its place and changes it into faith.
44.
From the time that the soul expires mystically, it is separated generally from
everything that would be an obstacle to its perfect union with God; but it is
not, for all that, received into God. This causes it the most extreme suffering.
You will object here, that, if it be wholly dead, it can no longer suffer. Let
me explain.
45.
The soul is dead as soon as it is separated from self; but this death or mystic
decease is not complete until it has passed into God. Until then, it suffers
very greatly, but its suffering is general and indistinct, and proceeds solely
from the fact that it is not yet established in its proper place.
46.
The suffering which precedes death, is caused by our repugnance to the means
that are to produce it. This repugnance to the means whenever these means recur,
or grow sharper; but in proportion as we die we become more and more insensible,
and seem to harden under the blows, until at last death comes in truth through
an entire cessation of all life. God has unrelentingly pursued our life into all
its covert hiding places; for so malignant is it, that when hard pressed, it
fortifies itself in its refuges, and makes use of the holiest and most
reasonable pretexts for existence; but, being persecuted and followed into its
last retreat, in a few souls (alas! how few!) it is obliged to abandon them
altogether.
47.
No pain then remains arising from the means which have caused our death, and
which are exactly the opposite to those which used to maintain our life; the
more reasonable and holy the latter are in appearance, the more unreasonable and
defiled is the look of the other.
48.
But after death—which is the cause of the soul’s departure from self,
that is, of its losing every self-appropriation whatever; for we never know how
strongly we cling to objects until they are taken away, and he who thinks that
he is attached to nothing, is frequently grandly mistaken, being bound to a
thousand things, unknown to himself—after death, I repeat, the soul is
entirely rid of self, but not at first received into God. There still exists a
something, I know not exactly what, a form, a human remnant; but that also
vanishes. It is a tarnish which is destroyed by a general, indistinct suffering,
having no relation to the means of death, since they are passed away and
completed; but it is an uneasiness arising from the fact of being turned out of
self, without being received into its great Original. The soul loses all
possession of self, without which it could never be united to God; but it is
only gradually that it becomes fully possessed of Him by means of the new life,
which is wholly divine.
UNION
WITH GOD: BUT NOT YET RECOGNIZED.
49.
As soon as the soul has died in the embraces of the Lord, it is united to Him in
truth and without any intermediate; for in losing everything, even its best
possessions, it has lost the means and intermediates which dwelt in them; and
even these greatest treasures themselves were but intermediates. It is, then,
from that moment, united to God immediately, but it does not recognize it, nor
does it enjoy the fruits of its union, until He animates it and becomes its
vivifying principle. A bride fainting the the arms of her husband, is closely
united to him, but she does not enjoy the blessedness of the union, and may even
be unconscious of it; but when he has contemplated her for some time, fainting
from excess of love, and recalls her to life by his tender caresses, then she
perceives that she is in possession of him whom her soul loves, and that she is
possessed by him.
THE
RESURRECTION.
50.
The soul thus possessed of God, finds that He is so perfectly Lord over it, that
it can no longer do anything but what He pleases and as He pleases; and this
state goes on increasing. Its powerlessness is no longer painful but pleasant,
because it is full of the life and power of the Divine Will.
51.
The dead soul is in union, but it does not enjoy the fruits of it until the
moment of its resurrection, when God, causing it to pass into Him, gives
it such pledges and assurances of the consummation of its divine marriage, that
it can no longer doubt: for this immediate union is so spiritual, so refined, so
divine, so intimate, that it is equally impossible for the soul to conceive or
to doubt it. For we may observe that the whole way whereof we speak, is
infinitely removed from any imagination; these souls are not in the least
imaginative, having nothing in the intellect, and are perfectly protected from
deceptions and illusions, as everything takes place within.
52.
During their passage through the way of faith, they had nothing distinct, far
distinctness is entirely opposed to faith, and they could not enjoy anything of
that sort, having only a certain generality as a foundation upon which
everything was communicated to them. But it is far otherwise when the life
becomes advanced in God; for though they have nothing distinct for themselves,
they have for others, and their illumination for the use of others, though not
always received by those for whom it was intended, is the more certain as it is
more immediate, and as it were natural.
53.
When God raises a soul, that is to say, receives it into Himself, and the living
germ, which is no other than the Life and Spirit of the Word, begins to appear,
it constitutes the revelation in it of Jesus Christ, (Gal. i. 16,) who
lives in us by the loss of the life of Adam subsisting in self.
54.
The soul is thus received into God, and is there gradually changed and
transformed into Him, as food is transformed into the one who has partaken of
it. All this takes place without any loss of its own individual existence, as
has been elsewhere explained.
55.
When transformation begins, it is called annihilation, since in changing
our form, we become annihilated as to our own, in order to take on His. This
operation goes on constantly during life, changing the soul more and more into
God, and conferring upon it a continually increasing participation in the divine
qualities, making it unchangeable, immovable, etc. But He also renders it
fruitful in, and not out of, Himself.
56.
This fruitfulness extends to certain persons whom God gives and attaches to the
soul, communicating to it his Love, full of Charity. For the love of these
divine souls for the persons thus bestowed upon them, while it is far removed
from the natural feelings, is infinitely stronger than the love of parents for
their children, and though it appears eager and precipitate, it is not so,
because he, who exhibits it, merely follows the movement impressed upon him.
57.
To make this intelligible, we must know that God did not deprive the senses and
faculties of their life, to leave them dead; for though there might be life in
the centre of the soul, they would remain dead if that life were not also
communicated to them. It increases by degrees, animates all the powers and
senses which, until then, had remained barren and unfruitful, enlarges them in
proportion to its communication, and renders them active, but with an activity
derived and regulated from God, according to his own designs. Persons in a dying
or dead condition, must not condemn the activity of such souls, for they could
never have been put in divine motion if they had not passed through the most
wonderful death. During the whole period of faith, the soul remains motionless;
but after God has infused into it the divine activity, its sphere is vastly
extended; but, great as it may be, it cannot execute a self-originated movement.
THE
LIFE IN GOD.
58.
There is no more to be said here of degrees; that of glory being all that
remains, every means being left behind, and the future consisting in our
enjoying an infinite stretch of life, and that more and more abundantly. (John
x. 10.) As God transforms the soul into Himself, his life is communicated to it
more plentifully. The love of God for the creature is incomprehensible, and his
assiduity inexplicable; some souls He pursues without intermission, prevents
them, seats Himself at their door, and delights Himself in being with them and
in loading them with the marks of his love. He impresses this chaste, pure, and
tender love upon the heart. St. Paul and St. John the Evangelist, felt the most
of this maternal affection. But to be as I have described it, it must be
bestowed upon the soul in the state of grace of which I have just spoken;
otherwise, such emotions are purely natural.
59.
The prayer of the state of faith is an absolute silence of all the powers of the
soul, and a cessation of every working, however delicate, especially toward its
termination. The soul in that state, perceiving no more prayer, and not being
able to set apart fixed seasons for it, since all such exercises are taken away,
is led to think that it has absolutely lost all kind of devotion. But when life
returns, prayer returns with it, and accompanied by a marvellous facility; and
as God takes possession of the senses and faculties, its devotion becomes sweet,
gentle, and very spiritual, but always to God. Its former devotion caused it to
sink within itself, that it might enjoy God, but that which it now has, draws it
out of self, that it may be more and more lost and changed in God.
60.
This difference is quite remarkable, and can only be accomplished by experience.
The soul is silent in the state of death, but its stillness is barren, and
accompanied by a frantic rambling, which leaves no mark of silence save the
impossibility of addressing God, either with the lips or the heart. But after
the resurrection, its silence is fruitful and attended by an exceedingly pure
and refined unction, which is deliciously diffused over the senses, but with
such a purity, that it occasions no stay and contracts no taint.
61.
It is now impossible for the soul to take what it has not, or to put off what it
has. It receives with passive willingness whatever impressions are made upon it.
Its state, however overwhelming, would be free from suffering, if God, who moves
it towards certain free things, gave them the necessary correspondence. But as
their state will not bear it, it becomes necessary that what God wills they
should have, should be communicated by means of suffering for them.
62.
It would be wrong for such persons to say that they do not wish these means;
that they desire God only. He is anxious that they should die to a certain
interior support of self, which causes them to say that they desire God only,
and if they were to reject these means, they would withdraw themselves from the
order of God, and arrest their progress. But, being given simply as means,
though fruitful in grace and virtue, however secret and concealed, they finally
disappear when the soul finds itself united with the means in God, and He
communicates Himself directly. Then God withdraws the means, upon which he no
longer impresses any movement in the direction of the person to whom they are
attached; because it might then serve as a stay, its utility being at least
recognized. The soul can then no longer have what it had, and remains in its
first death in respect to them, though still very closely united.
63.
In this state of resurrection comes that ineffable silence, by which we not only
subsist in God, but commune with Him, and which, in a soul thus dead to its own
working, and general and fundamental self-appropriation, becomes a flux and
reflux of divine communion, with nothing to sully its purity; for there is
nothing to hinder it.
64.
The soul then becomes a partaker of the ineffable communion of the Trinity,
where the Father of spirits imparts his spiritual fecundity, and makes it one
spirit with Himself. Here it is that it communes with other souls, if they are
sufficiently pure to receive its communications in silence, according to their
degree and state; here, that the ineffable secrets are revealed, not by a
momentary illumination, but in God himself, where they are all hid, the soul not
possessing them for itself, nor being ignorant of them.
65.
Although I have said that the soul then has something distinct, yet it is not
distinct in reference to itself, but to those with whom it communes; for what it
says is said naturally and without attention, but seems extraordinary to the
hearers, who, not finding the thing in themselves, notwithstanding it may be
there, consider it as something distinct and wonderful, or perhaps fanatical.
Souls that are still dwelling among the gifts, have distinct and momentary
illuminations, but these latter have only a general illumination, without
defined beams, which is God himself; whence they draw whatever they need, which
is distinct whenever it is required by those with whom they are conversing, and
without any of it remaining with themselves afterwards.
THE
TRANSFORMATION.
66.
There are a thousand things that might be said about the inward and celestial
life of the soul thus full of life in God, which He dearly cherishes for
Himself, and which He covers externally with abasement, because He is a jealous
God. But it would require a volume, and I have only to fulfill your request. God
is the life and soul of this soul, which thus uninterruptedly lives in God, as a
fish in the sea, in inexpressible happiness, though loaded with the sufferings
which God lays upon it for others.
67.
It has become so simple, especially when its transformation is for advanced,
that it goes its way perpetually without a thought for any creature or for
itself. It has but one object, to do the will of God. But as it has to do with
many of the creatures who cannot attain to this state, some of them cause it
suffering by endeavoring to compel it to have a care for self, to take
precautions, and so on, which it cannot do; and others by their want of
correspondence to the Will of God.
68.
The crosses of such souls are the most severe, and God keeps them under the most
abject humiliations and a very common and feeble exterior, though they are his
delight. Then Jesus Christ communicates Himself in all his states, and the soul
is clothed upon both with his inclinations and sufferings. It understands what
man has cost Him, what his faithlessness has made Him suffer, what is the
redemption of Jesus Christ, and how He has borne his children.
69.
The transformation is recognized by the want of distinction between God and the
soul, it not being able any longer to separate itself from God; everything is
equally God, because it has passed into its Original Source, is reunited to its
ALL, and changed into Him. But it is enough for me to sketch the general
outlines of what you desire to know; experience will teach you the rest, and
having shown you what I ought to be to you, you may judge of what I am in our
Lord.
70.
In proportion as its transformation is perfected, the soul finds a more extended
quality in itself. Everything is expanded and dilated, God making it a partaker
of his infinity; so that it often finds itself immense, and the whole earth
appears but as a point in comparison with this wonderful breadth and extension.
Whatever is in the order and will of God, expands it; everything else contracts
it; and this contraction restrains it from passing out. As the will is the means
of effecting the transformation, and the center is nothing else but all the
faculties united in the will, the more the soul is transformed, the more its
will is changed and passed into that of God, and the more God himself wills for
the soul. The soul acts and works in this divine will, which is thus substituted
for its own, so naturally, that it cannot tell whether the will of the soul is
become the will of God, or the will of God become the will of the soul.
71.
God frequently exacts strange sacrifices from souls thus transformed in Him; but
it costs them nothing, for they will sacrifice everything to Him without
repugnance. The smaller sacrifices cost the most, and the greater ones the
least, for they are not required until the soul is in a state to grant them
without difficulty, to which it has a natural tendency. This is what is said of
Jesus Christ on his coming into the world; “Then said I, Lo, I come: in the
volume of the book it is written of me; I delight to do thy will, O my God; yea,
thy love is within my heart.” (Psalm xi. 7,8.) As soon as Christ comes
into any soul to become its living principle, He says the same thing of it; He
becomes the eternal Priest who unceasingly fulfills within the soul his
sacerdotal office. This is sublime indeed, and continues until the victim is
carried to glory.
72.
God destines these souls for the assistance of others in the most tangled paths;
for, having no longer any anxiety in regard to themselves, nor anything to lose,
God can use them to bring others into the way of his pure, naked and assured
will. Those who are still self-possessed, could not be used for this purpose;
for, not having yet entered into a state where they follow the will of God
blindly for themselves, but always mingling it with their own reasonings,
and false wisdom, they are not by any means in a condition to withhold nothing
in following it blindly for others. When I say withhold nothing, I mean
of that which God desires in the present moment; for He frequently does not
permit us to point out to a person all that hinders him, and what we see must
come to pass in respect to him, except in general terms, because he cannot bear
it. And though we may sometimes say hard things, as Christ did to the
Capernaites, He nevertheless bestows a secret strength to bear it; at least He
does so to the souls whom He has chosen solely for Himself; and this is the
touchstone.
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