"If I had not been received into the Carmel, I would have entered a Refuge, and lived there unknown and despised among the poor "penitents." My joy would have been to pa.s.s for one, and I would have become an apostle among my companions, telling them my thoughts on the Infinite Mercy of G.o.d."
"But how could you have hidden your innocence from your Confessor?"
"I would have told him that while still in the world I made a general confession, and that it was forbidden me to repeat it."
"Oh! When I think of all I have to acquire!"
"Or rather to lose! It is Jesus Who takes upon Himself to fill your soul according as you rid it of imperfections. I see clearly that you are mistaking the road, and that you will never arrive at the end of your journey. You want to climb the mountain, whereas G.o.d wishes you to descend it. He is awaiting you in the fruitful valley of humility."
"To me it seems that humility is truth. I do not know whether I am humble, but I do know that I see the truth in all things."
"Indeed you are a Saint!"
"No, I am not a Saint. I have never wrought the works of a Saint.
_I am but a tiny soul whom Almighty G.o.d has loaded with His favours._
"The truth of what I say will be made known to you in Heaven."
"But have you not always been faithful to those favours?"
"Yes, _from the age of three I have never refused our Good G.o.d anything._ Still I cannot glorify myself. See how this evening the tree-tops are gilded by the setting sun. So likewise my soul appears to you all shining and golden because it is exposed to the rays of Love. But should the Divine Sun no longer shine thereon, it would instantly be sunk in gloom."
"We too would like to become all golden--what must we do?"
"You must practise the little virtues. This is sometimes difficult, but G.o.d never refuses the first grace--courage for self-conquest; and if the soul correspond to that grace, she at once finds herself in G.o.d"s sunlight. The praise given to Judith has always struck me: "Thou hast done manfully, and thy heart has been strengthened."[4] In the onset we must act with courage. By this means the heart gains strength, and victory follows victory."
In conformity with the Rule, Soeur Therese never raised her eyes in the refectory, and, as I found great difficulty in this observance, she composed for me the following prayer. It reveals her exceeding humility, because in it she asked a grace of which I alone stood in need:
"O Jesus, in honour and in imitation of the example Thou gavest in the house of Herod, Thy two little Spouses resolve to keep their eyes cast down in the refectory. When that impious king scoffed at Thee, O Infinite Beauty, no complaint came from Thy Lips. Thou didst not even deign to fix on him Thy Adorable Eyes. He was not worthy of the favour, but we who are Thy Spouses, we desire to draw Thy Divine Gaze upon ourselves. As often as we refrain from raising our eyes, we beg Thee to reward us by a glance of love, and we even dare ask Thee not to refuse this sweet glance when we fail in our self-control, for we will humble ourselves most sincerely before Thee."
I confided to her that I made no progress, and that consequently I had lost heart.
"Up to the age of fourteen," she said, "I practised virtue without tasting its sweetness. I desired suffering, but I did not think of making it my joy; that grace was vouchsafed me later. My soul was like a beautiful tree the flowers of which had scarcely opened when they fell.
"Offer to G.o.d the sacrifice of never gathering any fruit. If He will that throughout your whole life you should feel a repugnance to suffering and humiliation--if He permit that all the flowers of your desires and of your good will should fall to the ground without any fruit appearing, do not worry. At the hour of death, in the twinkling of an eye, He will cause fair fruits to ripen on the tree of your soul.
"We read in the Book of Ecclesiasticus: "There is an inactive man that wanteth help, is very weak in ability, and full of poverty: yet the Eye of G.o.d hath looked upon him for good, and hath lifted him up from his low estate, and hath exalted his head: and many have wondered at him, and have glorified G.o.d... . Trust in G.o.d, and stay in thy place. For it is easy in the Eyes of G.o.d, on a sudden, to make the poor man rich. The blessing of G.o.d maketh haste to reward the just, and in a swift hour His blessing beareth fruit.""[5]
"But if I fall, I shall always be found imperfect; whereas you are looked upon as holy."
"That is, perhaps, because I have never desired to be considered so... . But that you should be found imperfect is just what is best. Here is your harvest. To believe oneself imperfect and others perfect--this is true happiness. Should earthly creatures think you devoid of holiness, they rob you of nothing, and you are none the poorer: it is they who lose. For is there anything more sweet than the inward joy of thinking well of our neighbour?
"As for myself I am glad and rejoice, not only when I am looked upon as imperfect, but above all when I feel that it is true.
Compliments, on the contrary, do but displease me."
"G.o.d has a special love for you since He entrusts souls to your care."
"That makes no difference, and I am really only what I am in His Eyes. It is not because He wills me to be His interpreter among you, that He loves me more; rather, He makes me your little handmaid. It is for you, and not for myself, that He has bestowed upon me those charms and those virtues which you see.
"I often compare myself to a little bowl filled by G.o.d with good things. All the kittens come to eat from it, and they sometimes quarrel as to which will have the largest share. But the Holy Child Jesus keeps a sharp watch. "I am willing you should feed from My little bowl," He says, "but take heed lest you upset and break it."
"In truth there is no great danger, because I am already on the ground. Not so with Prioresses; set, as they are, on tables, they run far more risks. Honours are always dangerous. What poisonous food is served daily to those in high positions! What deadly fumes of incense! A soul must be well detached from herself to pa.s.s unscathed through it all."
"It is a consolation for you to do good and to procure the Glory of G.o.d. I wish I were equally favoured."
"What if G.o.d does make use of me, rather than of another, to procure His Glory! Provided His Kingdom be established among souls, the instrument matters not. Besides, He has no need of anyone.
"Some time ago I was watching the flicker, almost invisible, of a tiny night-light, when one of the Sisters drew near, and, lighting her candle in the dying flame, pa.s.sed it round to light all those of the Community. "Who dare glory in his own good works?" I reflected. "From one faint spark such as this, it would be possible to set the whole earth on fire." We often think we receive graces and are divinely illumined by means of brilliant candles. But from whence comes their light? From the prayers, perhaps, of some humble, hidden soul, whose inward shining is not apparent to human eyes; a soul of unrecognised virtue and, in her own sight, of little value--a dying flame.
"What mysteries will yet be unveiled to us! I have often thought that perhaps I owe all the graces with which I am laden, to some little soul whom I shall know only in Heaven.
"It is G.o.d"s Will that in this world souls shall dispense to each other, by prayer, the treasures of Heaven, in order that when they reach their Everlasting Home they may love one another with grateful hearts, and with an affection far in excess of that which reigns in the most perfect family on earth.
"There no looks of indifference will meet us, because all the Saints will be mutually indebted to each other. No envious glances will be cast, for the happiness of each one of the Blessed will be the happiness of all. With the Doctors of the Church we shall be like unto Doctors; with the Martyrs, like unto Martyrs; with the Virgins, like unto Virgins; and just as the members of one family are proud one of the other, so without the least jealousy shall we take pride in our brothers and sisters.
"When we see the glory of the great Saints, and know that through the secret working of Providence we have contributed to it, who knows whether the joy we shall feel will not be as intense, perhaps sweeter, than the happiness they themselves possess?
"And do you not think that the great Saints, on their side, seeing what they owe to all little souls, will love them with a love beyond compare? The friendships of Paradise will be both sweet and full of surprise, of this I am certain. The familiar friend of an Apostle, or of a great Doctor of the Church, may be a shepherd boy, and a simple little child may be united in closest intimacy with a Patriarch... . I long to enter that Kingdom of Love!"
"Believe me, the writing of pious books, the composing of the sublimest poetry, all that does not equal the smallest act of self-denial. When, however, our inability to do good gives us pain, our only resource is to offer up the good works of others, and in this lies the benefit of the Communion of Saints. Recall to mind that beautiful verse of the canticle of our Father, St. John of the Cross:
"Return, my dove! See on the height The wounded Hart, To whom refreshment brings The breeze, stirred by thy wings."
"Thus the Spouse, the wounded Hart, is not attracted by the height, but only by the breeze from the pinions of the dove--a breeze which one single stroke of wing is sufficient to create."
"The one thing which is not open to envy is the lowest place. Here alone, therefore, there is neither vanity nor affliction of spirit. Yet, "the way of a man is not his own,"[6] and sometimes we find ourselves wishing for what dazzles. In that hour let us in all humility take our place among the imperfect, and look upon ourselves as little souls who at every instant need to be upheld by the goodness of G.o.d. From the moment He sees us fully convinced of our nothingness, and hears us cry out: "My foot stumbles, Lord, but Thy Mercy is my strength,"[7] He reaches out His Hand to us.
But, should we attempt great things, even under pretext of zeal, He deserts us. It suffices, therefore, to humble ourselves, to bear with meekness our imperfections. Herein lies--for us--true holiness."
One day I was complaining of being more tired than my Sisters, for, besides the ordinary duties, I had other work unknown to the rest. Soeur Therese replied: