SPIRITUAL DIALOGUES
PART THIRD
Containing some questions concerning the love of God towards
man, proposed by the Soul to her Lord, and his loving answers, the truth of
which was afterwards entirely proved by the Blessed One herself.
The Soul inquires of God the reason of his great love for man, who
is so opposed to him; and also what is man, for whom he cares so much.
Soul. O, Lord, when I see thee
so enamored of man, I long to know the cause of this great love, especially as
in his manner of life, man is so opposed to thy will, estranged from thy love,
averse to thy operations, contrary to thee in all things, full of this world,
blind, deaf, dumb, and stupid, without the power and without the means of
acting according to thy will. I confess, O Lord, that I know not what is this
man of whom thou art so mindful; I know not whether thou art his master or his
servant; it seems to me as if love had so blinded thee that thou seest not the
depth of his miseries. I pray thee, O my Lord, to satisfy me fully in this
matter.
The Lord. You demand a thing beyond your
comprehension; yet, in order to satisfy your understanding, which in these
matters is weak and uninformed, I will show you a scintillation of this love
which if you should behold clearly you could not live if I did not sustain you
by my grace.
Know then, in the first place, that I am God,
with whom there is no change; and know too that I loved man before I created
him. I loved him with a love which is infinite, pure, simple, and sincere, and
without any cause; it is impossible that I should not love those whom I have
created and designed for my glory, each in his own degree. I have also provided
him amply with all needful means of attaining his end, both with natural gifts
and supernatural graces, and on my part these never fail him. I am ever
surrounding him with my infinite love, now in one way and now in another, that
I may bring him under my care. I find in him nothing which is contrary to me
but the free-will which I have given him, and this I am always combating
through love, until he yields it to me, and when I have accepted it I reform it
little by little by my secret operations and loving care, and never abandon him
until I have conducted him to his appointed end.
To your other question, as to why I love man, who
is opposed to me and laden with sins that are so hateful in the sight of
heaven, I answer, that by reason of the infinite bounty and pure love with
which I love him, I can neither see his defects nor fail to accomplish my work,
which is purely to benefit him; I cast such a light on his defects that
perforce he sees them, and doing so he bewails them, and bewailing them he
purges himself from them. He offends me only when he puts hindrances in the way
by which I am endeavoring to lead him to his end; that is, when he hinders me,
by mortal sin, from accomplishing my loving designs according to his
necessities. But that love which you desire to know is beyond your
comprehension, for it has neither form nor limit; neither can you know it
through the intellect, for it is not intelligible; it is in part made known by
its effects, which are small or great in proportion to the measure of love
which is brought into action.
If one who had not lost faith should desire to
see the effects of this work which is accomplished in man by that spark of love
which infuses into his heart, be assured that he would be so inflamed by love
that he could not live, for so great would be its power that he would melt away
and be no more. Though men are for the most part forever in ignorance of it,
yet, for this hidden love, you see those who abandon the world, leave their
possessions, friends, and kindred, and hold in abhorrence all other loves and
joys. For this love men have sold themselves as slaves, and remained in bondage
to others until death; and its force increases so continually that they would
suffer martyrdom for it a thousand times, as they have often done and will ever
continue to do.
You see this love transforms beasts into men, men
into angels, and angels becoming God, as it were, by participation. You see men
changed from earthly into heavenly, and devoting themselves with both soul and
body to the practice of spiritual things. Their whole life and manner of speech
are altered, and they do and say the contrary of what was formerly their
custom. All are surprised at this, and yet it seems good to all, and men are
almost envious of it.
But unless by experience, no one comprehends how
this has been brought about. That deep sweet, and penetrating love which man
feels in his heart is unknown, and can neither be described nor understood
except by the light of the affections in whose exercise he feels himself
occupied, bound, transformed, in peace and harmony with the bodily sensations,
and without any contradiction, so that he has nothing, wills nothing, and
desires nothing. He remains quiet and satisfied in his inmost heart, knowing
this love and knowing it alone. He is kept closely bound by a very subtle
thread, held secretly by the hand of God, who leaves him to struggle and combat
with the world, the devils, and himself, while fainting weak, and helpless, he
fears ruin on every side but God does not let him fall.
The true love which you are striving, O Soul, to
comprehend, is not this, but is seen only when I have consumed the
imperfections of man by every mode of human misery, both exterior and interior.
As for that which cannot be seen, this is my mode of action. I let down into
the heart of man the slender, golden thread of my hidden love, to which is
attached a hook which enters the heart, and man feels himself wounded, but
knows not by whom he is bound and taken. He neither moves nor wishes to move,
because his heart is drawn by me, its object and its end, although he does not
comprehend it; but it is I who hold the thread in my hand, and draw it even
closer with a love so penetrating and so subtle, that man is conquered and
subdued and entirely taken out of himself.
As the feet of one who has been hanged do not
touch the earth, but his body remains attached to the cord by which he received
his death, so the Spirit remains suspended by the slender thread of love
whereby all the subtle and hidden imperfections of man receive their death: all
that he now loves he loves by virtue of the tie by which he is bound. All his
actions are done by means of that love and through sanctifying grace, because
it is now God who works alone, by his pure love and without man's assistance.
And God, having thus taken man into his own keeping, and drawn him entirely to
himself, so enriches him with his favors that when he comes to die he finds
himself drawn unconsciously by that thread of love into the divine abyss. And
although man in this state appears a lifeless, lost, and abject thing, yet his
life is hidden in God amid the treasures of eternal life; nor can it be told or
imagined what God has prepared for this beloved Soul.
The Soul, hearing all this, is so inflamed by
ardent love that she breaks forth into exclamations:
Exclamations of the Soul.--Our Lord demands the cause of her
surprise, and questions her concerning her enjoyment in the company of
spiritual persons, and of the pleasing conversations held with them.
Soul. O tongue, why dost thou
speak, when thou canst find no fitting words for the love felt by my heart? O
heart, inflamed with love, why dost thou not consume the body where thou
dwellest? O Spirit, what dost thou, thus bound upon the earth? Seest thou not
that vehemence of love wherewith God attracts and desires thee? Destroy this
body, that each may go to his own place!
And God, when he beheld the Soul kindled with a
flame so great and limitless, desiring in some measure to restrain her, showed
her one spark of that love with which he loves man, and which is so pure,
simple, and sincere that the Soul when she beheld it was wellnigh overpowered
with astonishment; then the Lord demanded of her, saying:
The Lord. Why do I behold you thus
changed? What new thing have you seen that kindles in you such a flame of love?
Hitherto you have seemed ready to break through the body in order to find your
love, by reason of the great delight and sweet enjoyment you tasted, together
with many other of your friends, with whom you were united in the bonds of that
sweet and winning love; but now I see you pausing and bewildered, and caring to
converse with no one.
Until now this Soul had often occupied herself in
conversing with her spiritual friends on the divine love, until it seemed to
them as if they were already in paradise. Oh, how sweet were these colloquies!
Both he who spoke and he who listened were fed alike upon that spiritual,
sweet, and delicious food, and were not satisfied to see time pass so quickly
while they talked, but all inflamed and burning, could neither speak nor
separate, and seemed as if beside themselves. O feasts of love! O food most
exquisite! What delicious viands, what sweet union, what divine company! They
spoke only of the love of God, of its operations, and how all hindrances to it
might be removed. All that took place between them was so clearly seen to be
from God and for the benefit of souls, that no one could think otherwise, and
hence the Soul responded:
The Soul discovers that what she had been doing, as if for
God, proceeded truly from Self-Love.--She is filled with astonishment at the
sight of pure love, and inquires concerning its nature.--Our Lord answers her
that she could not understand it, and that he himself, being love, can be
comprehended only in his effects.
Soul. Thou hast shown me, O
Lord, another light in which I have seen that it is Self-Love which has
hitherto moved me, and that all which has had the semblance of being wrought so
lovingly for thee and in thee was self-defiled and of my own doing, and
secretly appropriated to myself. It was hidden in me, my God, beneath thy
shadow, under which I rested. But now that I behold thy simple, pure, and
ardent love, with its operations, I am lost and bewildered, and all other loves
seem to me worse than selfish. O divine love, where shall I find words to speak
of thee? I am conquered and subdued by thee; I am dying of love and I do not
feel love; I am annihilated in love and I do not know love; I feel love acting
within me, and its action I do not understand; I feel my heart burning with
love, and yet I do not see the flame of love.
O my God, I cannot cease to search for tokens of
thy care; and although I am wholly overpowered by the new light which thou hast
shown me, I do not yet despair of knowing more fully this love which,
containing within itself everything that is desirable in heaven and on earth,
satisfies man without satiating him, and even constantly increases the appetite
which feeds upon it. It is so sweet and gentle, this pure and simple love, and
so adapted to the heart of man, that he who has once enjoyed it, though but a
little, would never cease to seek it, though the search should cost him a
thousand lives. What is this love which conquers all things? Thou, Lord, hast
told me many things concerning it, but they all seem to me to fall short; and
since thou hast given me the burning desire to penetrate it more deeply, I will
not believe that it can be in vain. Thou hast promised me a fuller satisfaction
than I have attained. Thou hast shown me a spark of thy pure and simple love,
and it has kindled in my heart a flame that devours me. Nowhere on earth can I
find repose, nor can I feel or see aught beside. I am lost and beside myself; I
am led captive and wounded nigh unto death, and wait only on thy providence,
which will satisfy every one of my desires, which is in the order of
salvation.
The Lord. O Soul, my beloved, thou art
seeking to know what thou canst not comprehend. Thy instinct and thy desire, so
far as the natural man is concerned, are supernatural; but as concerning the
spiritual, and the end for which thou wert created, they are natural, because
love is thy beginning, thy middle, and ought to be thy end. Thou canst not live
without love, for it is thy life, both in this world and in the other. It is
for this reason that the desire consumed thee to know what love may be, but
thou canst not comprehend it with the intellect, nor with the Spirit, nor with
all the love thou mayest possess; even those who are in heaven, their home,
know it only according to the measure of grace and charity they have had in
this life.
For love is God himself, who cannot be
comprehended, except by the wonderful effects of the great love which he is
ever manifesting, and which can neither be estimated nor imagined. And when I
reveal to the Soul but one spark of my pure love, she is constrained to return
me that love, whose power compels her to do her all for me, even, if need were,
to suffer torture and a thousand deaths. How much love may be infused into the
hearts of men, can be learned from what men have done for love of me. But I
see, my beloved, that thou seekest not this operative love in its effects, but
those gentle drops that I pour into the hearts of my elect, and which melt the
Soul, the Spirit, and even the bodily powers, so that they act no longer. By
these drops the Soul remains immersed in the sweetness of that love, and is
incapable of performing any action: she is lost in herself and alienated from
every creature: serene in the depths of her heart, at peace with all, and
passive, she is absorbed with that love, which satisfies her, without
nourishment; hence she exclaims in her ardor:
Soul. O food without taste, O taste
without flavor, O flavor without food, O food of love on which angels, saints,
and men are nourished! O beatific food, he who tastes thee knows not what thou
art! O real food, satisfying the appetite, thou dost destroy every other
desire! He who enjoys this food esteems himself already blessed even in this
life, where God communicates it but in the smallest measure: if he should
bestow only a little more, man would die of that subtle, penetrating love, for
the Spirit would be so inflamed that the weak body would perish. O celestial
love! O divine love! thou hast sealed my lips: I know not how to speak, nor
will I seek what never can be found. I am conquered and overpowered.
That he whose heart is pure knows the love of God.--How that
love works secretly, subtly, and without exterior occupation.--Some of its
effects.--Exclamations of the Soul upon this love.--Of its properties.
The Lord. O beloved Soul,
knowest thou who it is that employs my love? He whose heart is pure and empty
of every other love. When he has found it, he remains content and satisfied,
although he knows not my mode of operation nor his own condition; because love
works in secret and subtly, without external show.
Such a one is continually occupied, yet without
occupation; he is bound, yet knows not who holds him, he is in a prison without
an outlet. The Soul can avail herself of neither her understanding, her memory,
nor her will, and seems like a thing insensate, dumb, and blind, because the
divine love has overpowered all the sensibilities of both Soul and Body. And
therefore the Soul and Spirit, finding themselves so transformed from their
wonted habit of loving and acting, and secretly and strongly swayed by a higher
love, are constrained to ask: "O Lord, what manner of love is this? What is
this love which is ever changing man from good to better, continually bringing
him nearer to his end, and yet, as he approaches it more closely, plunges him
into ever profounder ignorance of his situation?"
Man in this state is kept alive by the rays of
love with which God pierces his heart, and which return to heaven in ardent
sighs. If he did not find this relief he would die through the vehemence of
this fire. Sometimes it so restrains him that he can neither speak nor sigh, in
order that its work may be more quickly done; but it does not hold him long in
this condition, because he could not remain in it and live. Then the Soul,
enlightened, inflamed with divine love, and filled with sweetness and delight,
exclaims:
Soul. O love, the Soul that feels thee,
begins even in this world to possess eternal life; but thou, Lord, dost conceal
this work even from its possessor, lest he should spoil it by making it his
own. O love, he who feels thee understands thee not; he who desires to
comprehend thee cannot know thee. O love, our life, our blessedness, our rest!
Divine love brings with it every good and banishes every evil. O heart, wounded
with divine love, thou art forever incurable, and dying of this sweet wound,
thou dost enter upon never-ending life. O fire of love, what doest thou in man?
Thou purifiest him as gold is purified by fire, and dost conduct him with thee
to that country and that end for which he was created.
Love is a divine flame: and as material fire ever
burns and consumes, according to its nature, so in man the love of God is by
its nature ever working toward its end, and for its part never ceases to
benefit and serve him whom it holds so dear; he who does not know its power has
but himself to blame, since God never tires of doing good to man while he is in
this life, and has always the most tender love for him.
O love, I can no longer be silent, and yet I
cannot speak as I desire of thy sweet and gentle operation, for I am filled
with love which inspires me with the wish to speak but deprives me of the
power. Within myself I speak with the heart and with the mind, but when I would
pronounce the words, something checks me, and I find myself betrayed by this
poor tongue. I would be silent but I cannot, for still the instinct for speech
urges me on. If I could utter that love of which my heart is full, I think that
every other heart would be inflamed, however remote from love it might be.
Before I leave this life I long to speak once of this love, to speak of it as I
feel it within me, of its effects in me, and of what it requires of him into
whom it is infused, and whom it fills to overflowing with a sweetness above all
sweetness, and with an indescribable content, so great that for it one would
willingly be burned alive; for God unites a certain zeal with this love, by the
power of which man disregards all contradictions how great soever.
O love, powerful and sweet, happy is he who is
possessed by thee, for thou dost strengthen, defend, and preserve him from all
ills of body and soul. Thou gently guidest all things to their end, and never
dost abandon man. Thou art ever faithful, thou givest light against the deceite
of the devil, the malice of the world, and against ourselves, who are so full
of self and so perverse. This love is so illuminative and efficacious that it
draws all imperfections from their secret caverns, that we may apply the remedy
and purge ourselves from them.
This love, which rules and governs our will, in
order that it may grow strong and firm to resist temptation, so occupies the
affections and the intellect that they desire naught beside. The memory is
engrossed, and the powers of the soul are satisfied, so that love remains her
sole possessor and inhabitant, and she allows nothing else to enter there. Love
exhales a continual sweet perfume, by which man suffers himself to be allured,
and so powerful is this fragrance that however great may be the torments
through which he passes to salvation, there is no martyrdom he would not suffer
gladly to attain it.
O love, no words of mine can express the
sweetness and delight with which thou fillest the heart; it remains enclosed
within, and by speaking it is inflamed. Whoever hears or reads these words
without the sentiment of love, makes little account of them, and they pass by
him like the wind. But if I could express the joy, the pleasure, and the peace
which it brings to the beloved heart, all men who hear or read these words
would surrender without resistance. For it is so adapted to the human heart
that at its first touch it opens wide its door, although man never can receive
this celestial gift till he is free from every other love. If the heart
receives but the smallest drop, it so earnestly desires to increase it that it
rates as nothing all the goods of this world. With this love, man conquers the
evil habits which are a hindrance to him, and in its strength he stands ever
ready to perform great deeds.
Other effects of love.--What it accomplishes at its will.--The
work is all its own.--Of works wrought through love, in love, and by love, with
some explanation of them.
O love, with thy sweetness thou
breakest the heart that is harder than adamant, and meltest it like wax in the
fire. O love, thou makest great men to esteem themselves as the least of the
earth, and the richest as the poorest. O love, thou causest wise men to appear
as fools, and thou takest their knowledge from the learned and givest them an
understanding surpassing all other understanding. O love, thou banishest from
the heart all melancholy, hardness, and natural inclinations, and all delight
in worldly things. O love, thou makest bad men good, and artful men simple.
Thou dost ingeniously deprive men of their free will, so that they are
contented to be guided by thee alone, because thou art our guide.
O love, thine operations are alien to this earth;
and therefore thou changest man from earthly to celestial, and, depriving him
of every human mode of operation, dost unfit him for all earthly occupations. O
love, thou dost accomplish the whole work of our salvation, which we neither
know how to do nor are able to do without thee. O love, thy name is so sweet
that it imparts sweetness to all things. Sweet is the mouth that names thee,
most of all when the words proceed from a heart full of thy liquid sweetness,
which makes man benign, meek, gracious, joyous, bountiful, and ready, so far as
may be, to serve all men. O love, when by any way thou art able to penetrate
the heart of man with thy sweet and gracious darts, if it be unoccupied by any
other love, however slight may be thy flame, it is powerful enough to make him
abandon all things else for thee.
This love makes every affliction and
contradiction appear sweet. O love, what sweet quiet, and what quiet sweetness
thou bringest with thee! As thou belongest to all, the more thou art diffused
among creatures, so much the more fully is thy will accomplished; the more man
feels and comprehends thy gentle warmth, the more he is inflamed with desire,
and he neither asks for any proof beyond his own feeling, nor knows how to give
any other reason for it: but love carries with it its own reason, and the will
likewise, and remains lord of the whole man, subjecting him entirely to its
will according to its pleasure, and this work is wholly its own; for then its
operations are effected through love, in love, and by love.
By works done through love, those works are
understood which man performs through the love of God, when God gives him an
instinctive desire to work for the benefit of himself or his neighbor; in this
first state of love, God causes man to undertake many and various useful and
necessary works, which he performs with a pious intention. The works of the
second state of love are done in God; these are such as are done with no view
either to the advantage of one's self or of one's neighbor, but rest in God,
with no motive in him who does them. Here man perseveres in good works through
the habits of virtue which he has formed, although God has deprived him of that
share in them which gave him aid and pleasure. This work is more perfect than
the other, for in that there were many motives which nourished both soul and
body. The works done by love are more perfect than the other two, because man
has no part whatever in them; love has so subdued and conquered him that he
finds himself drowned in the sea of love, and knows not where he is, but is
lost in himself and left without the power to act. In this case it is love
itself which works in man, and its works are works of perfection, inasmuch as
they are not wrought by human power, and are works of sanctifying grace, and
God accepts them all.
This sweet and pure love takes possession of man,
absorbs him and deprives him of himself. It keeps possession of him and
continually works within him, solely for his benefit and advantage, and without
any thought or care on his part.
O love, what a sweet companion and faithful guide
art thou! Neither speech nor thought can do justice to thy excellence. Blessed
is the heart possessed and occupied by thee. Love makes men just, simple, pure,
rich, wise, and contented, and with its sweetness lessens every grief.
O love, all that is done through thee is done
with ease, with gladness and goodwill; and though the toil be great, thy
sweetness tempers every trial. Oh, the torment of working without love! It is
beyond belief. Love gives a sweet flavor to every viand. if it is bad it makes
it good, and if good it makes it better. According to the grade and the
capacity of the subject, God infuses love into the heart of man.
Oh, how sweet a thing it would be to speak of
this love, if fitting words were found to express the delight with which it
fills the heart. But because the Soul is immortal, and capable of greater love
than it can feel in this life, on account of the weakness of the body, which
does not allow the Soul to support all that it desires, it remains ever
craving, and in this life can never be fully satisfied.
O love, thou fillest the heart, but thou art so
great that it cannot contain thee; it remains filled but not satisfied: by the
road of his heart thou takest possession of the entire man and permittest none
but thyself to find entrance; with a strong bond thou bindest all the
facilities of soul and body. O sweet servitude of love, which gives man freedom
and contentment in this life, and eternal blessedness in the other!
O love, thy bonds are so sweet and so strong that
they bind angels and saints together, and so firm and close that they are never
broken; men who are bound by this chain are so united that they have but one
will and one aim, and all things among them are in common, both temporal and
spiritual. In this union there is no difference between rich, and poor, between
nation and nation; all contradiction is excluded, for by this love crooked
things are made straight and difficulties reconciled.
The Soul asks various questions of our Lord.--What the martyrs
have suffered for this love.--That charity is the shortest and most secure road
to salvation, and that without it the Soul would rather cast itself into a
thousand hells than enter the presence of God.
O sweet Jesus, my Love, what
has brought thee from heaven to earth? Love. What has caused thee to
suffer such great and terrible torments, even unto death? Love. What has
induced thee to give thyself as food to thy beloved Soul? Love. What
moved thee to send us, what still continually moves thee to send us, the Holy
Spirit for our support and guide? Love.
Many other things can be said of thee.
Through love thou didst appear in this world so poor, so abject, and so
humiliated in the eyes of men, that thou wast not esteemed a God, but scarcely
as a man. A servant, however faithful and loving, could not endure so much for
his master, even were he to promise him heaven itself, because without that
interior love which thou bestowest upon man he cannot patiently suffer any
torment either of soul or body.
But thou, Lord, hast brought from heaven the
sweet manna, this delicious food, which has in itself such vigor that it gives
strength for every trial: as we have witnessed frist in thee, our most sweet
Master, and afterwards in thy saints. Oh, how much they have done and suffered
in the strength of the love infused by thee into their hearts, and by which
they were so inflamed and united to thee, that no torture could separate them
from thee! For in the midst of their torments a zeal was kindled that increased
with their sufferings, and by it they were kept from yielding to the most cruel
martyrdoms that tyrants could invent. The spectators saw only the weakness of
the body, but the sweet and powerful love which God infused into the heart, and
which is so vital and strong that he who abandons himself to it can never be
lost, was hidden from them.
There is no briefer or securer way of salvation
than this sweet nuptial robe of charity, which gives such confidence and vigor
to the Soul that she enters the presence of God without misgiving. But if at
death she is found destitute of charity, she is left in such an abject and
wretched condition that she would seek the gloomiest and most wretched spot,
rather than appear in the divine presence. For God, who is simple and pure, can
receive into himself nothing but pure and simple love; and being a sea of love
in which all the saints are plunged, it is impossible that even the slightest
imperfection should enter therein: hence the Soul, naked of charity when she is
separated from the body (aware of her condition), would cast herself into hell
rather than approach so bright and pure a presence.
O pure love! Every stain of evil, even the least,
is a great hell to thee, and even, by reason of thy vehemence, mere cruel that
that of the damned. None but those who have experienced thee can understand and
believe this. This love of which I speak, although in itself infinite, can be
described in its gracious and familiar action in the beloved Soul, even as if
it were one with her.
Our Lord questions the Soul concerning the love she feels and
on what he has said to her.--The Soul responds according to her ability, but
cannot express the intensity of her love.--She asks our Lord how the loving
Soul can live on earth, and concerning her condition.
The Lord. What hast thou to
say, O my Soul, of this sweet love, so dear to thee, which never leaves thee to
thyself, is always speaking to thee comforting thee, inflaming thee, and
revealing to thee some new and celestial beauty, that so thy affection for it
may become more and more ardent? Tell me some of those loving words it speaks
to thee when thou art with it alone.
Soul. I find myself repeating certain
words which are understood in the depths of my heart, which is glowing with an
amorous flame. These words, and this sentiment of love, I do not understand and
am unable to express, for they are unlike other words. Love opens my heart and
is ever making such gracious communications to it that it is wholly inflamed
and dissolved in love; yet in particular can discern neither words, flames, nor
love; the heart is seized, possessed, and held fast by a loving
satisfaction.
Yet the Soul does not comprehend this work,
although she perceives that in this visitation, love bestows all possible
caresses upon the beloved Soul that a true lover can give when his affection is
the greatest that can be conceived. This operation melts the Soul, detaches her
from earth, purifies her, makes her simple, strengthens her, and draws her
deeper and deeper into its loving flame. But she is not allowed to remain long
in this great and penetrating fire, for humanity could not endure its
vehemence; yet in the heart there remains always the impression that she is
living in that love with God.
O love! thou absorbest this heart into thyself
and leavest Humanity deserted on the earth, where it finds no resting place. It
appears an exiled creature, with no object either in heaven or in this
world.
O love, how burning and enamored is this Soul in
which thou art performing such a work of love! I would that I knew how this
creature lives upon the earth, both as to her body and her Soul, and how it is
that she has her conversation as well with heaven as with creatures; I see her
living a life very different from that of others, and one more for admiration
than for edification. She sets no value upon anything: she appears like the
mistress of heaven and the queen of earth, although she has nothing of her own;
few can understand her; she is very free and fearless, and dreads not that
anything can ever be wanting to her; she has nothing, and yet, to her seeming,
all things are hers.
The Lord. The answer is not for men, blind
and deprived of celestial light, who having their intellects occupied with
earthly things, cannot comprehend my words; yet, I will answer for those who,
aided by the divine ray, will be able to understand it. My love so delights the
Soul that it destroys every other joy which can be possessed by man here below.
The taste of me extinguishes every other taste; my light blinds all who behold
it; all the facilities of the Soul are so possessed and bound by love that she
is lost and understands neither what she has done nor what she should do. She
is raised above herself and bereft of reason, memory, and will.
Creatures like these no longer take part in the
things of this world, save through necessity, and then as if they knew them
not. They are always occupied interiorly, and this prevents their being
nourished by temporal things. God sends into their hearts rays and flames of
love so subtle and penetrating that they know not where they are, but remain
silently plunged in the serene depths of that love. And if God did not
sometimes deprive them of this vehement love, the Soul could not remain in the
body; yet, when he thus departs, he leaves the Soul so sweetly occupied in him
that naught beside is seen, known, or understood. Rarely does she remember
anything but what she has felt, and until the impression grows weaker it is
impossible for her to think of her own affairs, however pressing they may be.
Of the condition of the loving Soul.--How God delays imparting
to her the knowledge of her defects, since she could not endure it.--She has no
repose so long as she suspects the existence of any fault by which her Spirit
is hindered of its satisfaction.
The state of the Soul is this:
she is very sensitive, so that her mind cannot endure the least suspicion of
defect, because pure love cannot remain where there is even the slightest
fault, and the loving Soul, unable to endure it, would be thrown into
intolerable pain. In this world man cannot be wholly free from imperfections,
but at times God keeps him in ignorance of them, because he could not support
the sight; at other times he reveals them all; and in this way man is
purified.
If a suspicion of sin falls upon this Soul, she
cannot be pacified nor at rest until her mind is satisfied. The Soul which
dwells in that amorous peace cannot be disturbed either by herself or by
others; if any misunderstanding arises between herself and another, she is
unquiet until she has done all in her power to remove it. And when souls
habituated to divine love are, for any cause, permitted by God to be disturbed,
for the time they are wretched at being cast out of the tranquil paradise in
which they are accustomed to abide; and if God did not return them to their
accustomed state it would be impossible for them to live. They live in great
liberty and take little heed of earthly things. They are in a manner taken out
of themselves, especially as they near the close of this life, of which they
are stripped remaining immersed in that love into which the Soul has already
found by long experience that God, by the operation of his gracious love, has
taken both Soul and body, so that he allows them to want for nothing.
God shows the Soul also, that all the benefits
bestowed on her by creatures (whether spiritual or temporal) are given because
God moves them to it; and hence she learns to take no heed of creatures, what
service soever they may have rendered her, for she perceives clearly that it is
God who has done it by the action of his providence. By this vision the Soul is
more and more inflamed, and finally abandons herself to love, casting aside all
creatures, and finding in God such fulness that she can regard nothing else but
him.
And although such a Soul may seem to have some
affection for exterior things, do not believe it. It is impossible that any
love should enter into hearts like these, except the love of God, unless God
himself permits it by reason of some necessity either of the soul or the body.
And should this occur, all love and care, coming from such a source, would be
no impediment, and would not touch the depths of the heart; but would only be
ordered of God for some necessity, because it is needful that pure love should
be free from every exterior and interior concern; for, where the Spirit of God
is, there is liberty.
O that we could behold this sweet correspondence,
and hear those burning words with their joyous vigor, where one can distinguish
neither God nor man, but the heart remains in such a state that it seems a
little paradise, given by God to souls that are dear to him, as a foretaste of
that true and glorious paradise, but hidden from all except those lovers who
are absorbed and lost in the ocean of divine love.
O love! the heart which thou possessest becomes
through peace of mind so great and so magnanimous, that it would rather suffer
martyrdom to gain thee than without thee to be in possession of every other
good in heaven or earth. Yet, this is beyond the comprehension of all who have
not felt and tasted thee. A heart which finds itself in God sees all created
things beneath itself, not through pride or conceit of self, but by reason of
its union with God, which makes all that is God's appear to be its own, and
beside him it sees, know, and comprehends nothing. A heart enamored of God is
unconquerable, for God is its strength; hell does not affright it nor heaven
allure it, for it is so disposed that it receives all that befalls as from the
hand of God, remaining with him in immovable peace, and inwardly strengthened
and fortified by him.
Soul. O Love! how namest thou these
beloved souls?
The Lord. I have said, Ye are gods, and
all children of the Most High (Psalm 81).
Soul. O Love! thou annihilatest thy lovers
in themselves, and then restorest them to a true and perfect liberty, and
makest them masters of themselves. They wish nothing but what God wishes and
finds all things else a grave impediment to them.
O Love! I find no words to express thy benign and
joyous sway, thy strong and assured freedom, thy sweet and gentle goodness: but
all that thy true lover could express would be unequal to what he would desire
to say. He seeks everywhere for loving words appropriate to that love, and
finds them nowhere; for love and its effects are infinite, and the tongue is
not only finite but very feeble, and is always dissatisfied and confused by its
powerlessness to say what it desires. And although all that he says is as
nothing, yet when man speaks of this love as he feels it in his heart, it
relieves him that so he may not die of love. What sayest thou, my Lord, of this
thy beloved Soul, who is so enamored of thee?
The Lord. That she is wholly mine. And
thou, my Soul, what sayest thou of thy heart?
Soul. That I am wounded, O my God, with
love, in which I live joyful and at peace.
Of the condition of the Body, and in what suffering Humanity
found itself, living as though dead.--How God provided for it.--Of the joy
experienced by the Soul in the interchange of love, and how she is left like
one dead when deprived of it.
As the state of a Soul
enkindled and glowing with divine love has been explained, something now
remains to be said of the condition of the body. The body cannot live on love,
like the Soul, but it is nourished by material food. And as God has willed to
separate the Soul from earthly things and from her body, and engage her wholly
in spiritual operations, therefore it is left without vigor and almost without
nourishment, for all communication having ceased between it and the Soul,
without which it has no strength, it becomes like a Soul deprived of God, like
one dead, without enjoyment, without vigor, and without aid or comfort. And if
God should for a long time keep the Soul thus vehemently occupied within
herself, it would be impossible in the nature of things for the body to
survive.
But God, who sees all things, provides for all
necessities, and although, by reason of the union of the Soul with God,
Humanity has little comfort, and can neither smile, nor relish food, nor sleep,
nor take delight in the emotions of the Soul or the sensations of the body, nor
in any earthly thing, yet God concedes it a sufficiency for the support of its
wearisome life. And in order that every imperfection which exists in man may
die in God (while man still lives upon the earth), God seems to open a vien and
let out the blood of Humanity, the Soul meanwhile remaining as if in a bath,
and when there is no more blood within the body, and the Soul is wholly
transformed in God, then each goes to its own place, the Soul to her rest in
God and the body to the grave; and this work is done in secret and by love
alone. If you know how harassed and besieged is this poor Humanity, you would
in truth believe that no creature suffers so greatly as itself; but because
this is invisible it is neither credited nor understood, nor has any one
compassion for it, especially as it is endured for the love of God. But I say
(with all this for the love of God), it is necessary that this creature should
live always as if dead, like a man hanging by his feet, who, notwithstanding,
lives. And though it may be said, and truly, that the heart is contented, yet
what enjoyment can the body have? Thus Humanity, no longer able to live
according to its nature, appears to me to be always tortured and greatly
afflicted. It lives, but knows not how it lives, nor on what food. It desires
nothing, but remains in God, who pierces often this beloved heart with darts of
love so keen that they almost destroy the body by the ardor of their
penetrating and amorous flame, and absorbs the Soul in an obscure and hidden
satisfaction from which she would never part, since in it she finds her own
proper repose and natural beatitude, which God often reveals to the heart he
loves.
But the body, constrained to follow the Soul
(without which it cannot live or do aught, not being Spirit), remains during
this time as if without a Soul and without human comfort, in almost mortal
weakness, and knows not how to aid itself. Therefore in this necessity it is
assisted by others or secretly provided for by God himself, for otherwise this
creature would be as helpless as a little child, who having no one to care for
it, can do nothing but weep until its wants are supplied. It is not to be
wondered at, therefore, that for creatures like this, God should provide
particular persons to assist them, by whose means all their necessities both of
Soul and body are supplied, for otherwise they would die. Behold how our Lord
Jesus Christ left his beloved Mother to the special care of St. John; he did
the same for his disciples, and does it still for other devout persons; in such
a manner that one succors another both in spiritual and temporal things with
this divine union. And because people in general do not understand these
operations, and have no such union, therefore particular persons are needed for
such cares, through whom God may operate by his grace and light.
Those who behold such creatures and do not
understand them, admire, rather than are edified by them; do not judge them,
then, if you do not wish to err. But consider how besieged and how afflicted is
this Humanity, living as if without life. She lives because God gives her the
grace to live; but by nature her life would be impossible. When the Soul was
able to give love for love, that love yielded Humanity a certain satisfaction
which sustained it; but now, when the Soul is deprived of all sensible and
active love, Humanity is left abandoned and forsaken, like one dead. But God
performs another loving work, so secret and so subtle that the Soul becomes
more noble and more perfect than before, by reason of the destitution and the
nakedness in which God leaves her, so that without other support she rests,
firm and stable, on him alone.
How the Soul, the heart, and the Spirit of this creature are
devoid of form, and employed in an occupation which cannot be known by their
means.--That the heart becomes the tabernacle of God, into which he infuses
many graces and consolations, which produce admirable fruits.--That few
creatures are led by this road.--Of the nudity of the Spirit and of its union
with God.
The Lord. What will you do, O
Soul, thus naked and despoiled? What will you do, O heart and mind, which are
both so empty? How is it with you in this state, before unknown to you?
Soul. I know not where I am; I have lost
will, understanding, memory, love, and all enjoyment; I can give no reason for
myself, and am lost, and can neither place myself nor seek or find any other
thing.
The heart and the mind of this creature being
deprived of all the ways by means of which heaven seemed to make an entrance,
now exclaim: We are absorbed in an operation too subtle and secret to be made
known by us, but in that occupation a loving and ethereal spirit is hidden and
restrained which fills the whole man so entirely, that Soul, heart, mind, and
body, every bone and nerve and vein, are overflowing with it, so that all are
absorbed with such a secret and concentrated force, that every sigh struggling
from the heart is felt interiorly as a vehement flame. But the body, unable to
endure the action of so powerful a flame, grieves, yet finds no words to
express its grief; the mouth is filled with burning sighs and amorous conceits,
which rise from the heart, and seem ready to break forth in words powerful
enough to break a heart of stone. But they find no utterance; the true and
loving colloquy is going on within, and its sweetness cannot be conceived. The
heart is made the tabernacle of God, into which, by himself and also by others,
many graces are infused, which bear in secret wondrous fruits. This creature
has a heaven within herself.
If such as she (and they are rare in this world)
were understood, they would be adored upon earth; but God hides them from
themselves and from all others until the hour of death, at which time the true
and false are made known. Oh, how few creatures are conducted by this road of
secret and penetrating love, which keeps both Soul and body in such subjection
that it leaves no imperfection in them, for pure love can comport with none,
however slight; and it perseveres in its sweet action in the Soul until it
purifies her entirely, so that she can reach her proper end without passing
through purgatory.
O Soul, O mind, bound and imprisoned in that
divine flame! who could comprehend that beauty, that wisdom, that amorous care
wrought in you by divine love and for love--those colloquies so sweet, so
loving, and so gracious--and not feel his heart melt within him, though it were
harder than a stone.
O love! thou art called love until all that love
is perfected which God has infused into the heart of man, in which he rests
inebriated and immersed until he knows no longer what love is; for then it
becomes Spirit and unites with the Spirit of man, so that he becomes spiritual.
And the Spirit, being invisible and inscrutable to all the powers of the Soul,
man is conquered and subdued, and knows no longer where he is, where he should
be, nor whither he should go. But by reason of this secret and intimate union
with God, there remains in the Soul a sweet impression, so firm and assured a
satisfaction, that no torture, however cruel, could overpower it, and a zeal so
ardent that a man, had he a thousand lives, would risk them all for that hidden
consciousness which is so strong that hell itself could not destroy it. O
Spirit, naked and invisible, none is able to lay hold of thee, by reason of thy
nakedness! Thy habitation is in heaven, albeit with thy body thou yet remainest
on the earth. Thou knowest not thyself, nor art thou known by others in this
world. All thy lovers and thy kindred who are in heaven are known to thee only
by virtue of an interior instinct implanted within thee by the Spirit of
God.
O that I could find words fitting to describe
that gracious friendship and that vanished union. Vanished, I say, because so
far as man is concerned he has lost completely all expressions, that is, of
love, union, annihilation, transformation, sweetness, softness, goodness; has
lost, in short, all forms of speech by means of which the absolute union of two
separate things could be expressed and comprehended, where nothing remains but
one pure Spirit, active, and simple, and incomprehensible.
Of the secret means used by God for the purification of
man.--Of the loving care he takes of him.--How he sweetly leads him by love,
and does not allow him to work for his own advantage.--That true nakedness of
spirit cannot be expressed by words.
O sweetest, my Lord, in how
many hidden ways thou workest in man when thou desirest to purify him by means
of thy most pure love, which removes all rust from the Soul and prepares it for
the most holy union with thee! Oh, vast and happy country, unknown to wretched
mortals, but for which they were created by God!
O infinite God, how is it possible that thou
shouldst not be known and loved by him whom thou hast made capable of knowing
and enjoying thee, unless solely by reason of the little taste and feeling
which by thy grace thou hast bestowed upon him! For, if in this world man
possessed thee, he would leave all things beside.
O Lord, what loving care thou takest, day and
night, of man, who knoweth not himself, and much less knoweth thee, although
thou lovest him so much, seekest him with such diligence, and waitest for and
bearest him with so much patience, out of thy divine love!
Thou art that great most high God of whom we can
neither speak nor think, because of the ineffable supereminence of thy glory,
wisdom, power, and infinite goodness: and all these thou employest in the
service of man, who is so vile, but whom thou wouldst make so great and worthy;
and therefore thou art ever luring him with thy love because thou art unwilling
to force the free-will which thou hast given him. Thou drawest him to thee by
love, and desirest that he consent to thee through love. Thou workest in him by
love and with thy love. Thou wouldst have the whole man act through love, that
so, without thy love he might do nothing. Thou, who art our God and Lord, hast
disregarded thine own ease, both of soul and body, that thou mightest save man;
and thou willest that he also should disregard all ease of soul and body that
he may do thy will: and this chiefly because thy will is our best good: but
this, by blind and miserable man is never understood.
I have not spoken well of the nakedness of the
Spirit. It is because there are no words by which this nakedness might be
expressed, and the soul which finds herself in that condition has in her mind a
fulness, a repletion, of which she knows not how to speak: and yet by reason of
the vehemence of her emotions she is forced to speak, and in a language more
fitting than she is aware. This language is like the ink, black and unseemly,
and yet by its means many thoughts are made plain which could not otherwise be
understood.
Alas! if man could comprehend what it is that the
mind feels in such a state, these words would indeed appear to him dark and
unseemly. What, then, are these hearts and tongues to do which cannot utter
their thoughts? So secret and hidden are they that to him who feels them it
seems impossible that he should find any who can understand, and much less
express them. Will he then remain silent wonder? No, for he is unable to be
silent, finding his heart ever more inflamed by the marvelous operations of
divine love, which God increased day by day within him, and which bind him so
closely by the invisible chains of love that Humanity can hardly endure it,
more especially when it sees the madness of men, who are so wrapped in exterior
things that they neither know, conjecture, nor comprehend this divine
operation. But God loves us so much that although he sees us so blind and deaf
to our own advantage, yet he does not for that reason cease to knock
continually at our hearts by his holy inspirations, that so he may enter and
make therein tabernacles for himself into which creatures can never enter more.
Exclamations of the Soul upon the blindness which creatures
offer to the love of God.--Of the secret operations of God in man, arousing and
admonishing him with love.--The Soul inquires concerning this work, and desires
to know what grace is, and what is the ray of love.
Alas! how few and rare are they
in whom God abides by these operations! O God, thou retainest thy love within
thyself because thou canst not infuse it into creatures so occupied with
earthly affairs.
O earth, earth, what wilt thou do with those whom
thou dost so absorb? The Soul lost and the body corrupted, all things are lost
in infinite and incredible torments. Reflect upon this, O Soul! Reflect, and no
longer lose the time and the power which are now given thee to escape all
danger; thy God is now gracious and propitious to thee. He is very anxious for
thy salvation, and is ever seeking and calling thee with measureless love. The
operations which God is continually working on our behalf are so many and
great, that they can neither be recounted nor imagined: but all the good which
he has done to us, is still doing, will do, and desires to do, will result in
our condemnation and our confusion if we fail to cooperate with him in the time
which we so undervalue.
Soul. Show me, O my Lord, if it please
thee, how thou dost work within man by thy secret love, in which he is taken
captive by thee, not knowing how, nor understanding in what manner, but only
finding himself a prisoner of love and greatly satisfied.
The Lord. I move with my love the heart of
man, and with that movement give him light by which he sees that I am inspiring
him to well-doing; and in that light he ceases to do ill, and struggles with
his evil inclinations.
Soul. What is this movement, and how does
it begin in man, who knows not of its existence and asks not for it?
The Lord. The pure, simple, and boundless
love which I bear toward all men, impels me to grant him this grace, to knock
at his heart, to see whether he will open and give me entrance, that so I may
make my abode there and banish all things else.
Soul. And what is this grace?
The Lord. It is an inspiration which I
send him by means of a ray of love, with which I give him also the instinct of
love; it is impossible for him not to love, and although he knows not what he
loves, yet he learns it by little and little.
Soul. What is the ray of love?
The Lord. Behold the rays of the sun,
which are so subtle and penetrating that human eyes cannot behold them without
losing their sight; such are the rays of my love which I send into human
hearts, and which deprive man of all knowledge and all delight in worldly
things.
Soul. And these rays, how do they enter
into the hearts of men?
The Lord. Like darts directed at this one
and at that; they touch the heart in secret, inflame it, and make it heave with
sighs; man knows not what he wishes, but finding himself wounded with love can
give no account of his condition, and remains lost in wonder.
Soul. And what is this dart?
The Lord. It is a scintillation of love
which I infuse into man, which softens his obduracy and melts him as wax is
melted by the fire. I give him also the instinct to refer to me all the love
which I infuse.
Soul. And what is this scintillation?
The Lord. It is an inspiration sent by me
which sets on fire the human heart, and so ardently and powerfully inflames it,
that it can do nothing but love. By its power man is kept constantly intent on
me, and is continually admonished by it within his heart.
What this interior inspiration is, which works so
secretly, cannot be told in words. Ask of the heart which feels it. Ask of the
intellect which understands it. Ask of the mind filled with the operations
which God effects by means of it, for the least conception that can be formed
of it is that given by the tongue. God fills man with love; he draws him to
himself by love, and by its force enables him to overcome the world, the
devils, and himself; but man cannot understand this love nor put it into words.
That love cannot be comprehended, and that the heart filled
with it lives content.--Of the great mercy which God shows man in this
life.--That his justice becomes apparent at the moment when the Soul leaves the
body and passes to its destined place.--That the Soul can find repose in God
only.
O my heart, what sayest thou of
this love? What kindest thou? I say: My words are an interior jubilee, but they
have no appropriate utterance. Neither by exterior signs, nor yet by sufferings
(although endured for the love of God), can this love be made comprehensible;
he only who has felt it can somewhat understand it. All that can be said of
love is nothing, for the further one advances, the less he knows; but the
heart, filled and satisfied, seeks and desires naught else but what it feels.
All his words are heartfelt, glowing, and delightful, and so penetrating and in
such subtle harmony with that which inspires them, that they can be
comprehended only by those whose hearts are also united with God. God only
comprehends them fully; the heart feels but understands not, and the work is
that of God alone, while the benefit belongs to man. But the intimate, amorous
relation which God sustains with the heart of man is a secret between him and
the heart.
The Lord. O Soul, what hast thou to say
touching this operation?
Soul. I find my will so strong and my
liberty so vivid and so great, that I fear no impediments between me and my
object, and in it I rest content. My intellect is greatly enlightened and daily
becomes more calm; daily are manifested to it things so new and processes so
delightful, that it is satisfied to remain ever thus employed, and seek no
further since here it finds its rest; but it is impossible for it to explain
these operations. The memory is satisfied to be employed in spiritual things,
and can with difficulty recall any others. The affections which are natural to
man are overshadowed by a supernatural love, which alone satisfied him, and
makes him desire no other food, since in it he finds all that he requires. And
yet man can render no account of the way in which he is conquered by an
operation surpassing all his powers.
What more shall I say concerning this work of
love? I am forced to silence, yet have an instinctive wish to speak, although I
cannot speak as I desire. Let him who wishes to experience these things
abstain, as St. Paul commands, from every appearance of evil. Whenever man does
this, at once God infuses into his soul some gift of grace, which he increases
with so much love that the man is lost, absorbed, transformed, and overpowered.
And however difficult it may appear to abstain from evil, no one would allow
any hindrance to prevent him from doing everything for God, who could see the
readiness with which he comes to the help of man, and the loving and watchful
care with which he aids him and defends him from his adversaries. But when man
has once entered the straight road, he learns that is is God who works all that
is good in us, by his gracious inspirations and the love infused into the Soul,
which acts without hindrance by reason of the satisfaction which God mingles
with lll her toils. It is enough for man not to act in contradiction to his
conscience, for God inspires all the good he would have us do, and gives the
instinct and the strength for it, otherwise man could do no good thing. For
this God gives all the facilities and the means, so that he enables us to do
all things with pleasure, even those that to others seem the greatest
penances.
O how great is the love, the kindness, and the
mercy which God shows to man in this wretched world! Justice is made known
afterwards at the moment when the soul leaves the body; then, if she has not to
undergo purgation, God receives her into himself, where she is transformed by
his burning love, and thus transformed remains in him forever. At that moment
also she goes to purgatory or to hell, if there is aught within her to be
purged or to be punished: this is accomplished by the divine decree which sends
each one to his own place. Every one carries within himself his own sentence,
and is by himself condemned. If souls did not then find the places ordained for
them by God, their torments would be even greater, for they would have violated
the divine order; and as there is no place which his mercy does not visit, when
they are within his order, their sufferings are less than they would otherwise
be. The soul was created by God for himself, and is governed by him, and it can
find no repose but in him alone. The condemned in hell are in the order of God
through justice. Could they be outside of it they would be in a still greater
hell by their violation of the divine order, which gives them the terrible
instinct to go directly to their appointed place. Elsewhere their sufferings
would be redoubled, and therefore they go thither, not indeed that they may
suffer less, but impelled by that supreme and infallible decree of God, which
cannot err.