ST. TERESA'S BOOK-MARK Let nothing trouble thee, Let nothing affright thee. All things are passing; Only God is changeless. Patience gains all things. Who hath God, wanteth nothing God alone sufficeth. A Meditative Commentary FROM THE SPANISH OF THE VERY REVEREND LUKE OF ST. JOSEPH ASSISTANT GENERAL OF THE ORDER OF THE DISCALCED CARMELITES, ROME Published by the Discalced Carmelite Nuns, St. Louis, Mo. Printed by H. S. Collins Printing Co., St. Louis, Mo. Copyright 1919 All Rights Reserved Printed in U. S. A. Nihil obstat. St. Louis, 19. Jan., 1919. F. G. HOLWECK, Censor. imprimatur STL LUDOVICI, die 19. Jan., 1919. JOANNES JOSEPHUS, Archiepiscopus, St. Ludovici. 2037C1A Introduction 0UR Holy Mother St. Teresa was a re- markable poet because she was a great Saint. All the Saints are poets, al- though not all have left us written in rhythmic cadences the ardent sentiments of their deified souls. The foundation of poetry is truth, its dis- tinctive trait is sentiment; its attractive gala apparel is lent to it by the imagination. He was not entirely wrong who defined poetry: as the language of passion and of an ardent imagination. (Blair's Lessons in Rhetoric and Fine Arts, XXXIV.) An inspiration suddenly surprising one's spirit, envelops it in a nimbus of light and moves it deeply. Behold the soul of poetry! At its light all the faculties of the soul awaken, and the warmth that they irradiate communicates itself to the fancy, the heart, perhaps to the very senses ; and thus, all the vital forces concentrating on the object that Introduction awakened them, the spirit sings or weeps, that is, feels itself a poet. Truth is to souls what the sun is to crea- tion. Its light is always the same, but its effects are very different and even opposite, according to the point upon which this light is projected. If the luminous rays fall upon a quagmire, they cause germs to develop and with them poison the air we breathe. When inspiration alights upon an ignoble soul, it also becomes very dangerous, for the powers aroused within are placed at the dis- posal of an evil purpose; and there is noth- ing more dangerous than perverted genius. With the germs their light has caused to spring from the dregs of the heart or the mire of the senses, they poison the moral atmosphere and may envenom numberless souls. But when these same rays of light fall upon some well disposed ground that care- fully conserves the seeds of plants and flowers, at their heat these quickly open and send forth their tender shoots, form buds, [ viii ] Introduction and flowers and fruits; thus beautifying, perfuming and enriching creation, and even the little innocent birds proclaim with joy- ous warbles and sweet melodies the sun's light as it appears with the first scintilla- tions of the dawn. The birds and flowers are the poets of the irrational world, as they answer to its moods and sing when bathed in warmth and light. The light of truth, resting upon an inno- cent soul and pure heart, excites them sweetly. Powers until then latent awaken with great sprightliness and vigor. The mind is able to see more clearly, whilst the heart feels with greater delicacy and har- mony. The fancy finds graces and beauties until then unknown to it. The passions and the senses become silenced or illumined by that new light of truth, placing themselves at the soul's disposal. The spirit imbibes all of man's energies and, concentrating them on one single object, soon overflows in poetical language. The poetical fire in- spires and sweetens the soul which feels [ix] Introduction interiorly the noble sentiment of all of its words. Man is then a poet, and he mani- fests it, whether in prose or verse. Poetry is a flame that illumines the mind, inflames the heart and enriches the fancy. It is more difficult to conceal it when present than to feign it when it does not exist. The Saints are naturally poets. Being nearer to God and accustomed to the contemplation of infinite truth, they feel more generously its divine influence. Their hearts being so well predisposed towards God, and con- taining the supernatural seeds of the life of God within them, when through contem- plation this heavenly light beams upon them, they feel deeply and sweetly touched ; the peace and joy experienced in their souls are communicated to their words and ac- tions. Therefore Saints are poets, even though they have not written in rhythmic cadences. Poetry is necessary to the human spirit. Noble and sensitive souls become asphyxi- ated with the defilements of this artificial [x] Introduction world, and in a poetical atmosphere they can breathe with freedom. The Saints, al- ready detached from earthly miseries, dwell more in heaven than on earth; living and walking with freedom, they sing of their joys, and weep for what yet remains of their dull captivity. One of Milton's biographers and critics has aptly said: "None can be a poet, or even take delight in poetry, with- out a certain amount of pain of spirit." Profound sadness of soul is an almost essential condition for the inspiration of poetry. Truth, love, sadness, and we must add hope; these are essential to every true poet. The Saints possessed these qualities in an eminent degree. They possessed truth be- cause they sought it at its fountainhead, God ; they loved tenderly because they were Saints; they felt sad because they consid- ered themselves exiled from heaven; they leaned upon hope because they felt they were the sons of God. [xi] Introduction Our Holy Mother Saint Teresa of Jesus was thus familiar with the manner of inter- course with God; she, who figures in the first rank of the happy choir of the souls most loved by God; she, the Angel of purity, the Seraph of love and Cherub of celestial wisdom; the thrice adorned spouse, the chosen disciple and beloved daughter of Jesus, must needs be a poet, for it is not possible to be nearly always in con- scious union with infinite Truth and not be- come rapt in the splendors of His divine light; to feel the constant presence of that infinite Beauty and not become sweetly captivated by it; to have a foretaste of the sweetness of that life above, and not experi- ence a weariness and sadness, and feel a dis- like for the things below to feel one's self so tenderly caressed as a daughter of God and not to be filled with unshakable hope in His divine promises. To be conscious of all this and not pro- claim it, not sing of it in the most intimate effusions of the soul, were not possible to a Introduction soul so grateful, a heart as ardent, noble and generous as hers. Ah, yes! Our Holy Mother must needs be a poet, for she was a great Saint. And more than on account of her privileged tal- ent, more than because of her incomparable genius, she should be a poet, because of her most pure and ardent heart. The love of God that inflamed it, and not its genius, must guide her pen and modulate her sweetest songs. But we will let the Saint instruct us herself. Speaking of the state of the soul when it has reached the third de- gree of prayer, she says: " Tis a slumber of the faculties, which neither lose themselves completely nor yet understand how they act. The joy, sweet- ness and delight experienced are, without comparison, greater than before; it gives the waters of grace to these lips and to this soul. This agony is enjoyed with unspeak- able delight. Many words are now spoken in praise of God, without rhythm, if the Lord Himself does not lend them harmony; Introduction the understanding, however, is of no worth here. Oh, my God! in what a state is the soul when it is thus; it would wish to be wholly transformed into tongues with which to praise Thee. / know someone who without being a poet happened of a sudden to write very touching couplets [there is no doubt but what this someone was the Saint herself], fitly proclaiming her sorrow, not composed by her under- standing, but, in order the more to enjoy the ecstasy that caused her such sweet suf- fering, she would complain of it to her God." (Life, chap. XVI.) Our Saint is always poetical, in her prose no less than in her verse. Certain it is that her most forceful poems do not contain greater inspiration or more ardent senti- ments than her "Mansions of the Soul," or her incomparable "Exclamations." There is nothing that can so exalt the mind or fill it with greater tenderness than these words taken at random: "May God live and give me life; may He reign and I be captive, [xiv] Introduction for my soul desires no other freedom." "How can he be free who finds himself es- tranged from the Highest Good? What greater or more miserable captivity than for the soul to be loosed from the hand of its Maker? Oh, life! thou enemy of my welfare, who but thee has the right to end thee; I suffer thee because God suffers thee, and I sustain thee because thou art His. O Life, be not treacherous or ungrateful to me! . . . Alas for me, O Lord, that my exile is so long; brief is time to be spent for Thy eternity, yet long is a single day or even hour for one who fears and knows not whether he is to offend Thee! O free will so enslaved to thy liberty if not nailed with the love and fear of Him who created thee! Oh when will that blessed day arrive which will find thee drowned in the infinite ocean of truth, where thou shalt be free to sin no longer, for thou shalt be safe from all misery, renaturalized with the life of thy God. . . . Forsake me not, O Lord. . . . Let [xv] Introduction me serve Thee always and do with me what Thou wilt" (Exclamation XVI.) As the Saint is a poet, not only on ac- count of the divine love that inflamed her heart, but also because of the divine truth that so fully illumined her soul in contem- plation and revealed to her infinite secrets so is she in all her writings no less tender than profound. In any of her pages might be found material enough to unfold most beautiful idyls of tenderness and for high- est meditations on the most sublime of moral and religious truths. She speaks al- ways no more to the understanding than to the heart. [xvi] Prologue N TIMES gone by, during days of trial and sadness, I sought (and found) solace for my spirit, and comfort for my soul, in meditation upon a celebrated poem of our Holy Mother. According to authentic tradition, the saintly Mother car- ried it as a book-mark in her Breviary, no doubt frequently to comfort her spirit by reading it. The editors of the magazine Mount Carmel, regarding with excessive in- dulgence our meditations, when we submit- ted them to their inspection, thought it well to publish them in a series of articles, which saw the light many years ago in that Re- view. Afterwards that Review, giving them an esteem which was certainly unmer- ited, collected and published them in a con- venient edition, which was immediately ex- hausted. Many have asked me to republish them, with the assurance that numbers of afflicted souls will find comfort in their sor- Prologue rows by reading my humble pages. From some I have received letters of commenda- tion, although it may well be guessed, they were prompted by excessive kindness, leav- ing justice and truth a little in the back- ground. At any rate, I am grateful and accept them as a stimulus. May Divine Providence deign to make use once more of this, His humble instru- ment, in order to carry tiny drops of dew or little rays of heavenly light to other afflicted souls very dear to Him. The Heart of Jesus rejoices in consoling afflicted spir- its, who by faith and hope are united to Him, and who weep, suffer and invoke His aid. This is the loving way of a Father, and to second Him in such a work is the most worthy occupation of man. Happy he who with St. Paul can say, even in the salvation of a single soul: "We are the helpers and coadjutors of God" (I Cor. iii, 9). If our Lord deigns to make use of this little work, written under His gaze, the pen following the dictates of the heart, [xviii] Prologue in order to carry a little warmth or light to a single soul, the author's ambitions will be fully satisfied. In order to make up in some way for the poverty of these pages, I have added at the end some of the renowned poems writ- ten by our beloved Holy Mother, as also her celestial counsels. I believe that the Saint's clients will be thankful to me for furnishing them in such a small manual, some of our great Doctor's most admirable conceptions. May she protect the least and last of her sons. THE AUTHOR. Barcelona, Christmas, 1912. [xix] St. Teresa's Book- Mark 1 Let nothing trouble thee, Let nothing affright thee. The human heart, how large and yet how small . . . . Creatures can do nothing against it . . . . Whatever hap- pens is Joreseen and pre-ordained, as well as permitted, by our Heavenly Father. SAINTS, those souls so dear to God, dwell in heights inaccessible to the majority of mortals. There, nearer to heaven, they breathe the very atmosphere of faith, of purity, of love and of filial con- fidence in the Divine Goodness. Our dearest Mother, the peerless Saint Teresa, our in- spired Doctor and beloved Spouse of Jesus, in order to show us the peace and sweet abandonment in the arms of God, such as is enjoyed by souls who have reached heights such as these, composed this beautiful poem: Let nothing trouble thee, Let nothing affright thee. [3] Sm'nt Teresa's All things are passing; Only God is changeless. Patience gains all things, Who hath God, wanteth nothing, God alone sufficeth. This is one of the sweetest and most sublime songs that has ever resounded in this vale of sighs and tears, a canticle su- premely beautiful and profoundly wise; it combines the greatest theological truths, the most lofty thoughts of philosophy, and the sweetest delights of poetry. It is the language of an angelic mind, the song of a soul who feels like a poet, prays like a Christian and loves like a Saint; and who weeps, moans and sighs as one exiled from heaven. Let nothing trouble thee, Let nothing affright thee. Even though there rise up against thee, O my soul, the powers of earth and of dark- ness, the hatred of men and the fury of hell, whilst the insane passions of the multitudes [4] Let Toothing Trouble Thee clamor with rage, and kingdoms plot ven- geance against thee, although thou feelest violently the agitation of the senses whose temptations cause the very innocence of thy heart to shudder in terror, yet Let nothing trouble thee, Let nothing affright thee; for thy will, although seemingly so frail, is omnipotent and invincible because nothing nor anyone can overpower it, if it does not wilfully allow itself to be conquered. Although thou art the plaything of thy own heart, which at one time feels with sub- limest melancholy of the majesty of heaven, and yet soon is smirched by the petty things of earth; which now on the wings of its fairy dreams seems to swing over the con- fines of time into eternity, and now in ad- versity dashes itself against the dull, hard rocks of sadness Let nothing trouble thee, Let nothing affright thee; for God has been pleased to fashion the [5] Saint Teresa's human heart in a very singular and noble manner; so small that a tiny flower delights it and so large that only the infinite can fill it; so frail that a single word perplexes it and a smile of love captivates it, and so powerful that neither the angels of heaven with their wisdom, nor men with their cun- ning, nor the demons with their artfulness, can penetrate its sanctuary nor read its thoughts, nor change its inclinations, if it does not of itself freely consent. God alone knows the secret of its strength. If the seas become violently agitated, en- veloping with their great waves the utmost limits of the earth and raising against the very heavens the foam of their billows, fill- ing the abyss with the roar of their turbu- lent commotions; if empires fall and king- doms perish and the moral, religious and political world becomes wrapped in the violent whirlwind of human passions that seem to drag in their wake all that is most sacred on earth the innocence of the up- right heart, the sanctity of marriage and the [6] Let Toothing Trouble Thee hearth and threaten even to destroy God's Holy Church and her sublime doctrine, yet Let nothing trouble thee, Let nothing affright thee; for all that happens in heaven and upon earth, the mutations of the physical world as well as the disturbances of men's moral nature, the wreck of cities and the ruin of nations all are foreseen by God, permitted or ordained by an all-wise Providence, Who knows how to direct all things to His greater honor and glory and the welfare of His chosen ones. And if individuals and nations possessed by an insane giddiness rush blindly on towards the precipice, carried, as it were, on the wings of frightful fatalism, yet Let nothing trouble thee, Let nothing affright thee; because men and nations are carried in the arms of a provident God, Who is all justice, love and wisdom. As God is love, He di- rects all to the welfare of His elect and to [7] Sm'nt Teresa's show the splendor of His glory. As God is justice, He allows nations to be fre- quently bathed in blood so that they may be purified from their apostasies and rise afterwards rejuvenated and turn to the en- joyment of days full of peace and pros- perity. As wisdom, God brings forth good from evil, from chaos and confusion order and harmony; He makes light to shine from darkness and from the depths of corruption He causes to spring forth great and heroic virtues. [8] All things are passing; Only God is changeless. Continual change of everything created. . . .Man's apostasy . . . .God's threat. . . .Scripture texts .... Divine immutability. Let nothing trouble thee f Let nothing affright thee; because All things are passing; Only God is changeless. LL things are passing here below; the world is a place of continual change. Glory and ignominy, our sweetest joys, our deepest sorrows, all pass away hand in hand. Passing are the violent passions that vanish like smoke, as also the greatest virtues, which transfer them- selves to heaven. Childhood passes with its joys, youth with its illusions, old age with [9] Saint Teresa's its sorrows, and even death with its gloomy shadows passes away. Childhood develops into youth, youth into old age and old age becomes eclipsed in death; and death changes into a glorious transformation of man, who from being terrestrial becomes celestial, from temporal becomes eternal. In this world everything is changeable; nations change and cities change just as men change, because they and all else are car- ried away on the wings of time. Here below, even the loftiest virtues are insecure, while the greatest falls are never hopeless. Samson, with all his strength, was vanquished; David, the saintly king, stained his hands with innocent blood; Solomon, with all his wisdom, committed the grossest and most detestable errors; Judas, the apostle, became a traitor, an apostate and a blasphemer against the Holy Ghost. Divine grace made of Manasses, the abominable, the zealous and penitent King of Judea; the famous sinner of Mag- dala God made the model for all mystical [10] Only God Is Changeless souls, and one of the hearts that have fol- lowed Jesus Christ with greatest intensity and purity of love; the first and foremost persecutor of Christians God made the Apostle of the Gentiles; Saint Augustine, heretical and dissolute, God made the greatest of the Fathers of the Church. The angels who shone as the very stars of heaven, fell; and to take their places rise those who lay in sin's abomination. The wise stumble while the ignorant walk in paths of light. Here below everything is insecure; no one can be proclaimd a Saint nor stigmatized a reprobate; for man with all his defects or his virtues is more change- able than the winds. We have seen many fallen monarchs; kings without sceptre and without crown; poverty-stricken magnates; generals without a sword; lofty virtues dragging themselves through the mire; virgins without modesty; the wise grown stupid; priests who offered up the most sacred sacrifices with unclean hands; sin- [ii] Saint Teresa's ners of the darkest guilt repentant and forgiven. The lyre of poets is out of tune and harsh; the intelligence of philosophers grows stupid; inspiration vanishes and the eloquence of the rhetorician becomes child- ish chatter. Yea, even innocence itself tires of singing its canticles of love, because here, in time, All things are passing; and we too must pass away with time and its changes. Sooner or later the poor man's hut and the palace of the magnate must crumble as has happened to the pyramids of Egypt, the walls of Ninive and the temples of Memphis. Nations pass away, together with their laws; "the tribes of earth pass away with their patriarchs, republics with their mag- istrates, monarchies with their kings and empires with their rulers" (Discourse of Donoso Cortes on the Bible), armies with [12] Only God Is Changeless their generals, science with its doctors and false religions with their pretentious wor- ship. All the grandeur of earth is like a tiny grain of sand which, swept by the wind from its shores, leaves no memory or trace of the place it once occupied. Men who but yesterday strutted noisily through the world, dazzling with the splen- dor of their glory, today lie silent and for- gotten in the dust. Where now are the immense possessions of Asuerus, who from Susa dictated laws to the world, and enforced them at the edge of the swords of his generals? What has become of Xerxes' vast posses- sions which covered whole provinces with their innumerable battalions? And of the empire of Alexander, who dragged the cap- tive kings of nations tied to his triumphal chariot what remains? And where is the fabulous wealth of Croesus, the money king of antiquity? And the incomparable mon- [13] Saint Teresa's archy of Augustus, and the boundless ambi- tions of Pompey, and the hideous vices of Nero and Caligula? All things are pass- ing; men with their glories and their ig- nominies; Babylon, the glory of nations (Isaiah xiii, 19) ; Carthage, the rival of Rome; Argos, the illustrious; Thebes, the city of a hundred gates and a thousand dominions; Corinth, the beautiful; Athens, the mother of arts and master of scholars; Rome, the conqueror; Jerusalem, the Holy City; Saguntum, the valiant, and Nu- mantia, the invincible. Man has no power to check the change of things. Of no avail to Ninive were her high walls, neither to Memphis her learned priests, nor to Sardis her world-famous opulence, nor to Tyre her irresistible fleets, with their skilful admirals; nor to Troy her legendary heroes ; nor to Athens the learned scholars of her Areopagus; nor to Rome her invincible warriors and her proud Sen- ate; nor to Jerusalem her august temple, nor her majestic high priests, nor her code [14] Only God Is Changeless of holy laws, nor her inspired prophets who foretold her misfortunes. The same holds true for modern nations, with the bayonets of their soldiers and the bombs of their artillery; the cunning of their diplo- mats, and the eloquence of their orators, and the wisdom of their statesmen. Great as our present-day arrogance and power may be, all this will pass away, as all that was before has passed away and all that is to come, urged onward by the impulse of a double force; that of time which changes all things, and that of divine justice which punishes with overwhelming calamities the sins of the nations. Modern nations, profunde peccaverunt, have sinned deeply (Osee, IX, 9). In their official life they have flung a challenge in the face of God, or at any rate have bade Him sleep peacefully on the confines of eternity, for they can well do without Him. They have committed the sin of theft and sacrilege, and the majority of them person- ally are constantly guilty of hateful sins, [15] Saint Teresa's some even of the frightful sin of blasphemy against the Holy Ghost. But God has pledged Himself on His word to scatter the ashes of those who forsake Him to follow man. By the mouth of Isaias He said : "Cursed be the man who, withdrawing his heart from God, places his confidence in crea- tures." And Jesus smote human presump- tion with this terrible threat: "I am the corner stone; and 'whosoever shall fall on this stone shall be broken, but on whomso- ever it shall fall, it shall grind him to powder'" (Matthew xxi, 44). But if all created things pass away, the word of God which threatens is eternal, and it is clear. It will never fail or be given the lie. Man may doubt and even deny it in a moment of weakness and folly; but time, and espe- cially eternity, will see it ratified. Today we are witnessing a spectacle of horror never equaled before. Man, withdrawing his heart from God, has placed his confi- dence in self, in his own right arm and in his prodigious inventions. [16] Only God Is Changeless Yet this is not so new in the world, at least as regards the spirit that animates it. The amazing fact is that man should have resolutely risen up against Jesus Christ, the true Corner Stone, Who has sustained dur- ing so many ages the spiritual and moral edifice of Europe. They do not want Him in society or in politics; in peace or in war; in the home or in the school. They have bade Him go, they have told Him that they do not need Him. They have fallen against the Corner Stone and they will be broken to pieces; this stone will fall upon them to grind them and destroy their deeds, and scatter their dust upon the winds. For God has so promised: "Heaven and earth shall pass away, but My words shall not pass away" (Mark xiii, 31). This prophecy hovers over all human contentions and strivings. Perhaps we shall all find ourselves enveloped in a dense moral whirlwind; the high and the low, those at the right hand and at the left; those who are within the sanctuary and those [17] Saint Teresa's who are without; we who are consecrated to the service of the altar and they who serve at the throne. One swift breath of divine fate is enough to change the whole political map of Europe. These are not the times when anything whatsoever is se- cure. Our flag may it not be torn to shreds by the sword of some conqueror? and our sumptuous cathedrals laid in ruins and the palaces of our magnates become the dwellings of birds of prey? Because now as ever, All things are passing, Yet in spite of the rapidity with which all that has ever existed has passed away, God is changeless. He is the same as He was yesterday, as He is today and will be forever. He is the same God Who created the world out of nothing, and placed in heavenly order the stars of the morning; Who made with the sun the high noon and the dawn; the same Who formed the first man from dust and [18] Only God Is Changeless Who conversed with Adam and Eve in Paradise; the same Who made manifest the Law on Sinai; Who died on Calvary; Who dwells in our tabernacles and within our very souls, counting the throbbings of our heart, and bestowing upon all His warmth and life, and the breath with which we pro- nounce His adorable name. God presides over all changes, but He Himself does not change or alter His thoughts. He listens to the prayer of the penitent, to the sigh of the unfortunate; to the sweet canticle of innocence ; yea, and to the horrible blasphemy of the apostate; but He is changeless; and He never is in haste. In the inmost recesses of His divine heart He inscribes the names of those who bless Him; and in the book of infinite justice He writes the names of those who blaspheme Him. Heaven becomes filled with Saints and hell receives its reprobates; God bestows His blessings on those who love Him and sends His chastisements upon those who re- [19] Saint Teresa's Boo^Mar\ fuse to adore Him; He pardons the repent- ant sinner, protects and rewards the Saints, whilst chastising the wicked. But He is always the same God whether He chastises as Judge or caresses as Father. O! my God! I delight in meditating upon the words of Thy prophet: "In the beginning, O Lord, Thou foundest the earth ; and the heavens are the works of Thy hands. They shall perish, but Thou re- mainest; and all of them shall grow old like a garment; and as a vesture Thou shalt change them and they shall be changed. But Thou art always the selfsame and Thy years shall not fail." (Psalm ci, 26-28.) Thou, O God, art as unchangeable as the eternity which is Thy throne and dwelling. Thou alone art eternal. Thou alone dost neither die nor tire, nor change. Outside of Thee, All things are passing, but Thyself O God, Thou art changeless. [20] Patience, gains all things. The power oj patience .... Divine patience .... Christian patience .... Human patience. E truly Christian soul possesses a cer- tain invincible virtue which, in the midst of the continual changes of life and the instability of the human heart, gives it courage to overcome all obstacles, and in times of prosperity lifts it above all that is transitory, drawing it to God, the immut- able and eternal. This powerful virtue is patience, whose grandeur was sung by our great poet in this forceful phrase: Patience gains all things. The world knows not how to appreciate all this sublime thought, because it is not easy for it to understand the supernatural strength of so humble a virtue, which seem- ingly lies in listless repose, but yet rules the [21] Saint Teresa's world. It holds the secret of the soul's strength as much in the philosophic order as in the Christian. It is well deserving the praise of our Holy Doctor. Ah! when the Saint speaks, there spring from her angelic lips the most sublime truths of Christian philosophy, wrapped in the purest and most delicate affections of an ardent soul, of "An enamored heart, that has fixed its thoughts on God alone." Patience is a passive virtue, yet it out- matches the strength of the most powerful adversary, and develops and accumulates it within the heart of him who possesses it. Its peculiar efficacy consists, not in force- fully vanquishing the enemy, but in wear- ing out his strength. The patient heart never exerts direct resistance, but allows the enemy to spend his energy and strength use- lessly. The tender sapling that grows be- side the stream does not put forth a stub- born resistance to the great sweep of waters, but rather bends patiently, so that they may [22] Patience Gains All Things pass around it and over it; and afterwards it rises up again full of life and vigor. Thus does the patient man behave. But here, as in everything else, we may easily go to extremes. Passiveness of spirit in the face of disappointments and the tides of human passions can be sublime and vir- tuous, or it may degenerate and be low and degrading. There are three kinds of patience, divine patience, human patience, and Christian patience which is half divine and half human. An underling of the high priests' court smote the adorable face of Jesus Christ with his fist, and the gentle Jesus held his peace. They stripped Him of His gar- ments before a vile rabble and rent His sacred flesh with a cruel scourge, yet the Son of God uttered no complaint. Now, at this very moment, men, it seems, have de- clared war against God; His Holy Name is hardly spoken but to be outraged and in- sulted, now by the loathsome blasphemy of [23] Sm'nt Teresa's the tavern, now by the cultured and pol- ished blasphemy of the drawing room; and yet God is silent. God need not hurry; God has patience. Behold divine patience. Slaves without uttering a word obey at the crack of their master's whip. In demor- alized cities thousands of strong, vigorous men patiently bend under the heavy chains of oppression, by which a harsh master has bound them. Behold human patience. Blessed Job, having fallen from the height of fortune to the depth of misery, felt no repining towards God or indigna- tion towards man, but with holy resigna- tion he was content to scrape his sores with a potsherd. Behold the perfect model of Christian patience, practiced by all of God's elect, who, before and after Jesus Christ, have known how to suffer hero- ically. Patience, when purely human, is never elevating, and often degrading. The ills that result to individuals and nations through that stoic passiveness which de- [24] Patience Gains All Things prives them of the energy needful to free themselves from their ignominious slavery, cannot be sufficiently deplored. On the contrary, divine and Christian patience is sublime and exalting, because it is prac- ticed in imitation of Jesus Christ. As to God's patience, it manifests His goodness adequately, for by it He bears with the sinner in order that he be con- verted. Neither men nor angels will ever understand the sublime grandeur of Jesus Christ in His infinite patience. He seems greater to me in the Praetorium than in the mansions of eternity, when with the Eternal Father He traced the paths of light and marked the limits of the sea. Job appears to me more radiant when, seated on his dunghill and forsaken by all, he sang in sublime accents of patient sorrow, than when he sat at home, loved by his sons, blessed by his friends and surrounded with oriental opulence. These three kinds of patience produce different effects because they have different causes. [25] Saint Teresa's Boo\-Mar\ Jesus, as God, is omnipotent; as man He had at His command millions of powerful angels, and yet He allowed Himself to be seized and bound by a crowd of ruffians. Why does omnipotence veil itself before man's weakness? In order that this weak- ness may become omnipotent If God had not been patient with the frailty of His two first creatures, the whole human race would have become extinct in its very beginning. If Jesus Christ had not had patience to suf- fer, the human race would never have been saved. Lucifer would have triumphed in his plan of disconcerting the harmonies of creation, and heaven would not be filled with saints. God has had patience because He loves man. And this divine patience has gained all things: it has maintained the first plan of creation in spite of human pre- varication; it has humbled Lucifer and peopled the earth with men and heaven with saints. The saintly Job, who so many centuries before Jesus Christ had the glory of being [26] Patience Gains All Things the most perfect personification of patience, certainly had no power to prevent his enemies from insulting him in his misfor- tune or to impede Satan from ill-treating his body, seizing his goods and killing his beloved sons; but he did have the power to rise above all these misfortunes and amid them to preserve peace of soul. He blessed God the same in adversity as in prosperity. He raised his heart so high above the world that it could not be sullied by the dust of earth. He suffered patiently not because he did not feel his woes, but because he had placed his innocence in the hands of God, Who has promised to protect those who con- fide in Him alone. And for this reason, while men and the devil made a horrible mockery of his body and of all he most es- teemed, the heart of this Saint of patience reposed peacefully within the arms of God where it had been deposited by faith and hope. All truly Christian souls know how to act as did the patient Patriarch of the Land of Hus. [27] Saint Teresa's I realize that to unbelievers and to wasted worldly hearts this language is un- intelligible a confusion of words without sense; but for us who have the immense happiness of being conscious of the truths of our faith, it is a luminous doctrine over- flowing with consolation. It is not easy for the unbelieving heart to understand Chris- tian truths, if it does not strive to love them. It is a profound truth, drawn from attentive observation of human nature, that "one single spark of love enclosed within a heart, sheds more light than the perusal of a hun- dred philosophical volumes." The difference between the patience of the Idumaean Patriarch, and consequently of Christianity, and the resignation of the slave and the man without faith or belief is this: the just man suffers without com- plaint because he knows that God loves him, will defend him and reward with eternal glory his brief sufferings. The slave suffers resignedly because he has lost the sense of his own dignity, or the hope of [28] Patience Gains All Things being respected by the rest of mankind. He has not the energy to shake off his spiritual chains and break them to pieces in the face of his oppressors; he has raised his eyes to heaven, but it seemed to him a brazen arch above him. He can nowhere perceive signs of a wise and just Providence, Who watches the same over the poor and feeble as over the rich and powerful, and Who, sooner or later, in time or in eternity, will cause the injustice sanctioned by men to be set right and to disappear. He does not know that he is the adopted son of God, with a divine right to eternal glory. He does not realize that this is but a transitory life, a stepping stone to eternal life, which is gained by suf- fering. If he looks about, he beholds him- self poor, weak and alone, with an endless chain of duties to perform and without any rights which his fellow men are bound to respect; he has believed that the law which rules the world and assigns each one's des- tiny is power, and only power; he feels his lot to be a product of frightful fatalism. [29] Saint Teresa's He who feels thus weak does not want to fight, or pray, or hope. He buries his brow in the dust as if to conceal his shame. This patience is degrading; it slays all the nobler energies of the soul; whilst in human society it causes the ruin of nations. For the general insensibility of the indi- viduals necessarily produces social and po- litical inanition. Society is what the ma- jority of the individuals who compose it and form its members are. When the individuals suffer with only stoical patience the lash of their masters, be it wielded by a proud Roman of the time of Augustus, or in our times by the hand of some petty king, or a clever trickster who boasts the title of a party leader; when the majority of the individuals forming the active part of society have an ignoble pa- tience and mutely bear their yoke, then the nation also will soon allow her honor to be smirched, history to be caricatured, and will even patiently submit to having her flag trampled under foot by some haughty [30] Patience Gains All Things conqueror. It is this merely stoical patience practiced by citizens, which produces inert- ness and debility in nations. This torpid patience also gains all things, but in the way of evil. It was not such pa- tience that received the praise of our great Doctor and Saint of Avila, because it be- littles and degrades men and nations. The Saint sang only of the sublime and great patience of the Christian, which uplifts the soul from earth to heaven. The patience that inspired holy Mother St. Teresa is not a trait of the enfeebled spirit, but of the lofty soul. It is the kind that gives strength to noble, Christian hearts, who, feeling themselves greater than any misfortune, know how to rise above all their trials. Christian patience bears all ills, yea, even if men might buffet and spit upon our brow; but it will not allow them to wound or sully our heart, because it teaches us to raise it above the reach of the darts of envy and the poison thrusts of slander. [31] Saint Teresa's Boo\'Marl{ Within this precious virtue, unknown to the profane spirit, lies the secret of the strength of the just. It was this passive, humble and long-suffering virtue which, finally conquering and triumphing over all suffering, inspired our Holy Mother in life and death, and which, as we will prove, effectively. Gains all things. [32] Patience and human reason .... The heart of man like unto the heart of God. . . .It delights in spreading good .... Patience opens the way .... Wrath closes it . . Adorable delights oj trusting the Divine Goodness. /^T IS not necessary to rise to the lofty ^ / heights of mystical contemplation, in order to understand the vast amount of virtue contained in patience. The phil- osophers of antiquity, even without being enlightened by faith, believed that in pa- tience and moderation were to be found all man's practical knowledge. "Philosophy," says the illustrious Count de Maistre, "has long since learned that all man's science is contained in these two words: Sustine et abstine suffer and abstain." (Conferences of St. Petersburg, I.) It is not strange that philosophers should have understood the excellence of patience, for, although this emanates from the clear [33] Saint Teresa's Boo\-Mar\ light that religion sheds upon it, and from the supernatural power it communicates, yet considering this virtue only as a natural gift, as long as it is not degrading to human nature like the brutish insensibility of the slave, it contains something of loftiness, and is a sign of noble spirit. Not to be down- cast by the greatest misfortunes, but to en- dure them with serenity of soul, is the prop- erty of a valiant heart. To know how to be silent and suffer patiently amid unfavorable circumstances which it would be useless or even dangerous to resist to have patience whilst awaiting an opportunity for over- coming an enemy this may sometimes be consummate prudence and at other times artful villainy; but it is always the height of practical judgment. Even considering patience only as the daughter of prudence and craftiness, it is still one among the greatest of human powers. What cannot be obtained through patience, will never be gained either by wisdom or strength without it. The king- [34] Delights of Trusting Divine Goodness dom of heaven belongs to the poor of spirit, but the dominion of the world belongs to the astute and the prudent according to the flesh. "He is not fit to reign who knows not how to dissemble" have said all the dis- ciples of Machiavelli. The best and only honest way of dissembling is to suffer the importunities of mankind; and bearing with mankind is the most difficult part of patience. Purely natural patience and dissimula- tion are the offspring of cunning and pru- dence, and these are the masters of the world. Human wisdom has been able to teach nothing more practical to mankind, than to patiently bide one's time. If St. Teresa of Jesus did not wear upon her brow the beautiful aureole of divinely infused science, and considering her only as a philosopher, she could still take her place among the greatest teachers of even human wisdom. Without having read the works of philosophers, she agreed with them in her great esteem for patience, and [35] Saint Teresa's Boo\'Mar\ she expressed it in the beautiful canticle upon which we are meditating, with greater perfection and beauty than they in their academical discourses. The philosophers said that in modera- tion and patience was included all that man can know or practice in regard to virtue. And our Holy Mother, without attribut- ing to this class either true wisdom or vir- tue, with perfect exactitude and beauty sang: Patience gains all things. Yet the mind of the great Saint beheld wider horizons than those of frail human reason. When she sang thus, she was think- ing of heaven and of earth, of God and man, of divine and human verities and dispensations. She saw that equally in the attainment of heaven and in treating with human nature, patience is the great virtue which gains all things. To the mind of my Mother patience is not the result of hu- man sagacity, nor does it energize accord- [36] Delights of Trusting Divine Goodness ing to human calculations; it is the gentle daughter of heaven, a supernatural virtue, a golden key with which we open all of God's treasuries and man's capabilities. Patience gains all things from God. God feels ineffable sympathy for those who suf- fer patiently. For them He reserves all the graces and all the tenderness of His Divine Heart. Jesus Christ called the peaceful the sons of God. On the other hand, the wrath- ful are insupportable to Him. In this, as in everything else, there is a great likeness be- tween the heart of God and the human heart, in so much as the latter is a source of good; because our heart, the masterpiece of creation, is a copy and a reflection of the heart of God. This is why they both have, in a manner, similar laws of attraction and repulsion. All who are truly eminent in some branch of knowledge or order of perfection, are of- fended by the arrogance of mediocrities and above all by the proud nonentities of that branch in which they themselves are [37] Saint Teresa's Boo\'~Mar\ notable. Presumptuous ignorance, arro- gant weakness and haughty poverty of mind are mortifying and offensive to the really wise, the powerful and the mentally rich. On the other hand, the greatest de- light of wealthy men of noble heart is to dry the tears of the humble poor; and it is the best joy of the powerful to protect the feeble and helpless. There is not on this earth a joy to be compared with that felt by one who imparts truth and love to an- other soul, who is well disposed and in need of God's light and warmth. In this holy joy of communion with other souls, is found the secret inspiration of Christian genius. St. Teresa, whilst improvising those famous lyrics of hers, into which she poured her saintly heart, found inspiration in the thought that her beloved mother would read them and feel "a hidden rapture, be- cause these sacred doctrines are the ones she so deeply loves, and which I first learned seated on her lap and reclining on her breast." The poet, overflowing with [38] Delights of Trusting Divine Goodness enthusiasm, writes his thoughts with the dream that the world, or at least some kin- dred souls, will read them and feel as he feels. The orator is overcome with lofty emotions, when from his platform he com- municates to thousands of souls the light of truth and the fire of love. This is why kings in the realm of speech rejoice more intimately than kings of nations. It is cer- tain that Solomon would not be as happy during forty years of peaceful reign, sur- rounded by all the pomp and splendor of the East, as was St. John Chrysostom, when with Christian eloquence he pronounced his immortal Homilies before auditors which often numbered many thousands. The deepest and most coveted joy of the apostle, poet, artist, indeed of all truly great souls, is to cause their light and love to spread into other souls, so that they too may know and venerate that which they themselves adore of moral or artistic beauty. These are the natural laws we carry im- printed deeply in our souls; similar in this regard are the laws of God's heart. [39] Saint Teresa's Boo\'Mar\ God is most happy and joyful because He rests in His own center, that is, within Him- self, Who is All Truth, Beauty and Love. We suffer because upon earth we are far away from our true home and native des- tiny. This is why we weep and, as the poet expresses it: "Banished angels are we, that is why we are always sad." As beings separated from our true cen- ter it is only natural that many evils should befall us; because evil is none other than the privation of some good which should be ours. It would indeed be a miracle if we were to have complete happiness here in our exile, where failure and weeping are so common. This is why we were born into the world weeping; and weeping we shall die. All the good that consoles us and the strength that sustains us can come to us only from God, Who is the first and only source of goodness and life. Hence when we be- come impatient against the adversity which must naturally befall us, we murmur [40] Delights of Trusting Divine Goodness against an all wise Providence, Who allows evil and privation to exist in the world pre- cisely because the world is not heaven; be- cause the road cannot be the same as the goal, and because the time of trial must dif- fer from the time of recompense and repose. If besides being impatient, relying upon ourselves without thought of God, we be- come militant against the evils which God permits and think we are sufficient to over- come them, we thereby tell Him, indirectly, that we do not need Him to sustain us and make us happy. This often ends by our raising against Him a very wall of opposi- tion. Herein pagan patience is the off- spring of pride. God also is offended by his arrogant, weak and yet haughty crea- tures. That is why we displease Him when we are impatient and so He denies us the special graces of His Heart. Is it then necessary to resign ourselves with indifference to all manner of evils that can possibly befall us, without even a right to breathe a sigh or articulate a single word [41] Saint Teresa's Boo\'Mar\ of pain? Must we allow ourselves to be dragged down by disappointments without showing any resistance whatsoever as if we were beings deprived of reason, liberty and strength? Is this slothful passivity to be mistaken for Christian patience the virtue so highly commended by mystics and ascetics, and especially by the great Doctor of Carmel? No; virtue commands us to suffer, but it also forbids us to succumb. That slothful indifference, which in the face of serious trials despoils man of all his energies, dis- pleases God no less than the proud pre- sumption that wishes by its own strength to scale the very heavens. I do not know who offends God most, those who whilst suffer- ing want to question omnipotence for the reason of their sorrows, or those who suc- cumb in adversity, and without a thought of heaven sink down to the very dust. God did not make us for tears. He would not have formed the human heart always to be tied down to the earth. He [42] Delights of Trusting Divine Goodness would not have made it capable of such beautiful sentiments and lofty aspirations towards the infinite, if it were His pleasure to keep it forever in the mire of grief. His adorable will is to exalt and perfect the hu- man heart by His intimate communications with man; for this reason He made our hearts most imperfect but yet infinitely per- fectible. "The Lord made man and He enriches him," says Holy Scripture. As Sovereign Artist, He feels an infinite delight in communicating to created beings His infinite light, His immense love and His incomprehensible grace. What most annoys Him is all that deprives Him of this holy intercourse with His creatures. In order to experience this divine joy He created other beings like unto Himself with whom He might communicate: this is the one reason for which angels and men were created. Before communicating to our minds the plenitude of His love and light, He sub- jected us to a test so that we ourselves might [43] Saint Teresas Boo\-Mar\ co-operate in the attainment of our happi- ness. This test has consisted in making us feel, during a certain interval, the privation of His light and love, so that we, desiring it, might ask for the gift and make use of our free will in accepting it. The angels felt this privation for only an instant. Lucifer and his companions did not resign themselves, thinking their natural perfection sufficient for obtaining it, and God, offended by such arrogance, cast them headlong into the abyss of hell. Eve, through her womanly eagerness, had not the patience to wait until God should disclose to her all the knowledge of good and evil. She dared to forestall God's designs, and she was cast out of Eden. A portion of mankind have sinned like Luc- ifer, telling God they do not need Him in order to attain to the truth in an undefined progress. Others complain, like Eve, be- cause He makes them wait so long, op- pressed with so many cares; and some seem to tell Him that they ignore the joys of [44] Delights of Trusting Divine Goodness heaven ; they do not feel the courage to strive for what they deem so difficult, pre- ferring to grovel indolently in the dust, bent under the weight of their anxieties, rather than to tread the road to heaven with its toils and hardships. The proud, who, like Lucifer, believe that without God they can attain to the en- joyment of truth and satisfy their hearts, as well as those who, like Eve, feel the time of trial too long and follow a path not marked out for them by God, for attaining the height of perfection to which they are destined, as also they who renounce the gifts of God because they believe them un- necessary or think they are too costly all of these oppose God's purpose, for He created heaven and earth for the pleasure of communicating to His creatures the effu- sions of His divine heart. But the souls who, when they feel tired, do not succumb nor murmur against Prov- idence, but the more afflicted they feel the more they thirst after the light and love of [45] Saint Teresa's heaven and the more eagerly implore it of God; those who, when persecuted and calumniated feel no indignation against men and do not defend themselves (unless obliged to by reason of justice or charity), but leave everything in the hands of Prov- idence, offering up all their trials in satis- faction for their sins these are the souls who merit the sympathies of the Divine Heart. Souls dearest to God are always those who, though bowed down by sorrow, do not allow themselves to be depressed, nor place their confidence in creatures; but, raising their eyes towards heaven, hope for consolation only from God. God has made the human heart marvel- ously perfectible, because He made it capa- ble of union with the infinite; and when the heart becomes dull and inactive, He sends disappointments to arouse it, and to revive its yearning for heaven and its hun- ger for truth, in order to have the sovereign joy of delighting and comforting it. This He does partially here below by faith, hope [46] Delights of Trusting Divine Goodness and interior graces, by satisfying it in heaven with the plenitude of truths and bliss. Behold the adorable delights of the Heart of God, the end of all His works with creatures, namely, to communicate to souls truth, love and eternal bliss. But God in communicating Himself to souls through His gifts, desires them to in- voke Him with love and with constancy. They who do not suffer do not call upon Him thus, because they are well pleased with the things of earth. This is why He sends them sufferings. Therefore our trials are that bitterness which God places in the things of earth, so that, detaching ourselves from them, we shall love the things of heaven. Trials without patience are not accept- able to God, because they either cause us to murmur against Providence or deprive us of our energies and plunge us deeper in the mire of despondency. Sorrow and pa- tience are the two wings by which we rise from earth to heaven and approach towards [47] Saint Teresa's Boo\'Mar\ God. No one who has reached the use of reason has been saved without suffering, and no one has been sanctified by sorrow without patience. The most efficacious means of approaching the uncreated source of Truth and Goodness is sorrow endured with hearty courage. The souls best disposed to receive God's blessings are those who suffer most with greatest resignation. This is the secret of the whole system of Providence in the moral government of the world. To com- municate Himself to souls such as these, is the sweetest of the divine complacencies; and it was in order to enjoy them He created the world. To such souls and to them alone does He bestow in abundance His infinite gifts. Therefore patience thus placed in union with sorrow, is that great power of God by which he gains all things. [48] tt 5 Mercy more charming than justice .... The companion of patience . . . . A costly alms .... Patience overcomes the wickedness and inconstancy of men. HAT a won derful judge of hearts was our Holy Mother St. Teresa. How well she understood human frailty; she knew that only Patience gains all things, not from God alone, but even from men. We do not know why; it may be because men are generally more feeble than per- verse; but it is certain that they are fonder of the dispensers of mercy than of the min- isters of justice. Justice always weighs heavily on us, and when not tempered by mercy it causes positive terror. Mercy, on the contrary, is always smiling and lovable. It steals imperceptibly into the proudest and most obdurate hearts and conquers them by its sweetness. [49] Saint Teresa's But this lovely virtue is so intimately united with patience, that in its principal acts it becomes blended with it. To bestow on a neighbor, and especially on those with whom we live, the alms of dissembling their defects is a real work of mercy, and some- times an act of sublime patience. We can give this alms to everyone; and we our- selves are in need of it; but it is often very costly. It is easy to take a coin from one's pocket to succor the needs of the poor; but to have always ready in the heart a wealth of indulgence, gentleness and charity with which to conceal the defects of our neigh- bors and suffer without resentment their in- equalities of character, is so difficult that it becomes impossible to a heart abandoned to its own resources. This is where the in- vincible power of supernatural patience comes to its aid. There are men who will perform metallic financial acts of char- ity, but for all they may squeeze their hearts they cannot extract a single drop of indul- gent affection, in order to give to their [50] Mercy More Admirable Than Justice equals or inferiors by the estimable alms of gentleness and kindly dissimulation. Pa- tience is the inexhaustible treasure of gen- erous hearts. The patient heart has always strength to love its neighbor and reasons for excusing him his defects. It is not unaware of the frailties of human nature, but it does not try to do away with them by fire and sword, like jealous spirits or imprudent ones; nor does it, like the flatterer, conceal his faults under the cloak of adulation. It knows that the human heart always has some good qualities, and for these it can esteem and even praise him, without any need of flat- tering. It never refers to his defects except when justice or charity demands it, and then only in words of sincere friendship and even tender affection. The heart that manifests itself in this manner is almost omnipotent. There is no one who can resist it. Sooner or later it will make of men what it wants them to be; it will conquer them without inflicting hu- [51] Sm'nt Teresa's miliations. What neither reason nor elo- quence nor justice could obtain will be won by the patient, enduring and generous heart. This is the secret of the Saint's strength. The moral nature of a man is formed not by his theories, nor precisely by his actions, but his heart, his most interior conscious- ness. The most sacred thing and most difficult in the world to understand is the human heart and conscience. Nevertheless these hidden things are too often the ones least respected, and about which we pre- sume to know most. If during a social gath- ering science is discussed, there will be many who cannot join in the conversation, and it will become necessary to change its topic. But if the most difficult subject in the world to discuss, that of the moral na- ture of a person, is brought up, everyone will think himself sufficiently well in- structed to define it, and authorized to do so. And the worst of it is, that in social life one must bow to these judgments. Alas, [52] Mercy More Admirable Than Justice that we must always be considered what men have persisted in making us. They will make us change our moral position many times over, they will want us to fill all different roles. Without hav- ing changed a particle in our heart or con- science, today they will raise us upon the pinnacle of fame and tomorrow they will cast us down and cover us with mire. One sentence spoken, and even a malicious reti- cence cleverly interjected into a conversa- tion, or slipped into the columns of a news- paper, will suffice to change mankind's opinions about us. It is useless to oppose one's self to the current of human opinion. Against its force there is no efficacious re- course but the divine stability of Christian patience. Man in judging the life of his neighbor, nearly always, even uncon- sciously, has for adviser his personal affec- tions. We can hardly ever exercise the calmness we display when treating of ordi- nary affairs. Never have men appeared to me so small as when I have seen them judg- [53] Saint Teresas ing others. They discuss things not as they understand them, but according to how they feel. They are guided not by the light of truth, clear as that of the sun, but rather by the sentiments of the heart, blinding and fluctuating as flashes of lightning. The soul's passions, dazzling and even blinding the mind, are like gushing tor- rents ; they rush onward full of noise and presently are still. Their strength is mo- mentary, yet irresistible, whosoever at- tempts to confront them will be hurled aside as by a mighty whirlwind. The way to conquer them is not by trying to check their advance, but by securing a firm foot- hold while the impetus of their force lasts. Patience, in a word, fortifies the heart and restrains it, so that it remains steadfast when struck by the onrush of human pas- sions. At last from out of the tempest of passion rises the rainbow of peace. The heart that knows not how to rise above the fallacy of human judgments, will [54] Mercy "More Admirable Than Justice become entangled among the ruins of hu- man reputations, including its own. Whoever allows himself to be overcome in this way has no right to complain of man's injustice towards him, because he has not striven to rise above it. The most un- just in this regard are the very ones who complain most bitterly about men's injustice in general. To expect just treatment from others, we must first be just in our dealings with them; and it is better still if we are merciful. But this justice can be obtained from men we might almost say without seeking for it, by means of Christian pa- tience. After the tempest has raged with great- est fury on the summit of the mountains without being able to disturb their calm, majestic grandeur, the sun's rays shine forth with greater splendor upon their lofty peaks, bathing them in a nimbus of light. When men have striven most to harass and vex a human heart without succeeding, there comes a time when they tire of this; [55] Saint Teresa's the passions are stilled; men have lucid mo- ments and are more apt to judge correctly. Hearts tried in this manner become more beautiful. The constant friction caused by opposition renders them bright and lus- trous, and the light that emanates from souls tried by misfortune and sustained by patience gives them a clear insight into their own depths. Men cease to misunder- stand one another, they judge them cor- rectly, and especially crown their neigh- bor's brow with the aureole of brotherly love. It is true that this light revealing the beauty of souls the result of constant pa- tience as a rule shines forth only in the evening of life. Many times we fully know men only after they are dead. It is like the fading sunlight, that tinges the sky only after the sun itself has disappeared into the deep valleys beyond the horizon. [56] Self-knowledge .... How difficult it is . . . . Painful in- terior struggles .... The heart tires or goes astray .... The need oj patience in order to bear with our own selves, , patience is the greatest preserva- tive against the weakness of our own hearts. With it man can obtain all things from himself; in fact, it is no less necessary to us in our intimate dealings with self than in our social relations with others. This is a matter that may well be pon- dered over in the sweet shades of solitude. It solves problems both difficult and little known, because we must begin by searching our own hearts, and from there go on to the fact that there are so few who really culti- vate the science of self-knowledge. "My heart is unable to know itself/' said St. Augustine. It is a difficult thing to know others, but it is no less difficult to know one's self. Chesterfield was amazed to find [57] Saint Teresa's in the drawing rooms of London, scholars who had treated intimately with men all their lives, and yet had failed to understand the human heart; but it is still more strange that men who have lived with themselves so many years have not yet attained to self- knowledge. Two-thirds of the human race go down to the grave without having had a single intimate conversation with them- selves. We like to live and talk without but not within. Men have a knowledge of almost everything; it is only themselves that they ignore. We would certainly be in a very grave predicament, if there were sent to each one of us a detachment of Levites like those sent by the priests from Jerusalem to St. John the Baptist on the banks of the Jordan, asking: "Who art thou; what say- est thou of thyself?" How dost thou define thyself? (John i, 22.) Let us but converse a few moments with our own hearts, and we will understand the great need we have of patience in our dealings with self. It is said that within each one of us there [58] Painful Interior Struggles exists an antithetical dualism, two beings constantly warring with each other. In- deed, I think there are more than two; there are at least as many as there are com- batants that wage war together within us, because all struggles suppose a plurality. Within us, then, are battling not only the spirit and the flesh; conscience and the senses; the soul and the body; the angel and the brute, as Pascal would say all of which are in constant mutual warfare; but even the very faculties of the soul are in per- petual internecine confusion. They were given to man in order to per- fect him, so that, united in complete har- mony, they would aid each other in their functions; but sin wrought such havoc in human nature, that our faculties are hardly ever able mutually to assist each other with- out breeding confusion. The fancy dis- tracts the reason; the heart does not move in accordance with the will; and meanwhile the senses disturb the mind and the imagina- [59] Saint Teresa's Boo\'Mar\ tion, weaken the will and heart and exhaust and destroy themselves. In most of the actions of life men, with- out being aware of it, abdicate the rights of the reason in favor of the fancy. In their thoughts they are not guided by the mind, which, receiving light from the lofty re- gions of truth, judges things as they really are; but they allow themselves to be in- spired and influenced by the fancy, which sees objects always in the light of its own imaginings. It forms and embellishes things according to the heart's tastes rather than the realities of life; forms for itself ideas of things that do not exist and im- agines itself living amongst them. In this way our fancy is always deceiving us, form- ing illusions and weaving golden dreams. We see things not as they really are, but as we would like them to be. If we observe carefully we find that most of the time we wander about deluded, thinking that we reason when in reality we only fancy. The impulses that guide our thoughts do not [60] Painful Interior Struggles come from the serene mansions of truth, but from the lower abodes of the affections and the senses. This is why our opinions change oftener than the winds; they are as variable as the heart's dreams and the creatures of fancy. There are but few men who always discuss things with calm judgment, because in certain affairs it is very difficult to free one's self from the influence of the fancy and of the heart's emotions. We spend most of our time day-dreaming, and, no doubt through fear of being humbled, we refrain from asking ourselves, even in the most serious cases, whether we are reflecting or only dreaming, whether we are being guided by reason or fancy, by emotions or by realities. We lack the patience to train our thoughts and control our imagination. This accounts for the confusion often found even in the best endowed minds. This confusion descends from the mind down into the most hidden recesses of the soul, of the will, and of the heart. What the fancy is to the mind, the heart is to the [61] Saint Teresa's Boo\'Mar\ will. The latter is a spiritual force, the source and center of the soul's volitions and of its energies, and all the graver purposes of life. The heart is the seat of tenderness and affection, of joy and all emotions. These two faculties are given us so as to harmonize and complete each other. The will contains strength and energy; the heart, emotion and poesy. A heart without will power is fickle and inconstant; it is affected by everything and has much to suffer. A will bereft of the tenderness of the heart is harsh, and wounds those with whom it comes in contact. A man who is all heart and lacks will power inspires pity. A man of great will power, but heartless and in- capable of feeling, is repulsive; he is useful in business, but worthless in family or other life. Perfect harmony between these two fac- ulties constitutes the moral perfection of man; but there are very few who have at- tained to this. This is where sin left its [62] Painful Interior Struggles deepest mark, for discord between the will and the heart are very common. The heart can separate itself from the will in two ways, by tiring or overexerting itself. Conscience, for example, dictates that we must perform a certain painful duty. With our will we desire to do it and desire it sincerely, but the heart with its tenderness and sensibility rises in revolt, or at any rate cannot conform itself to the will ; it grows tired and faint and we feel no joy, but only repugnance in fulfilling that duty. Then it is that we desire but cannot feel; or, what is the same thing, we would desire to desire, or, as David would say in his beautiful language: "My soul hath coveted to long for Thy justifications: Concupivit anima mea desiderare justificationes tuas" (Psalm cxviii, 20). There are times when it seems that we almost drag our hearts along. It is sometimes said that it is easy to love and to desire. Without penetrating the deep secrets of philosophy to ascertain what [63] Saint Teresa's Boo\'Mar\ is the immediate force that gently moves the will and heart to love, but dwelling only upon psychological phenomena as they present themselves to the human mind, I maintain that there is nothing so difficult in life as to love, especially when the heart opposes itself to it. The will, without the aid of the heart, soon tires and grows dis- couraged. Then it is more difficult to de- sire than to act. This is the most common malady of the heart, and, as an eminent psychologist has said: "The difficulty does not lie so much in controlling the heart, so that it may not overexert itself, but rather in making it go." It easily tires, weakens, becomes, as it were, anaemic, and dies of cold. The heart tires; and then the will, without its aid, weakens. This is the reason for the great fickleness of humanity. Nevertheless the heart sometimes over- flows with life and feels too intensely, much more so than we would desire. It is then that our thoughts wander where the will [64] Painful Interior Struggles would not wish, and leave the latter alone. This is very harassing, and it has bedewed every corner of the world with tears. Wheresoever the light of the sun has shone, there man has stood bewailing the sorrows of his heart. Yet no one has de- picted them as graphically as the Prophet- King when he cried: "My heart hath for- saken me" (Psalm xxxix, 13). This thought alone is a whole poem in itself, a complete canticle of the soul's sufferings and the heart's wanderings. In union with St. Paul and St. Jerome, who sang in accents of sor- row the weakness and wanderings of their hearts, there have always ascended to heaven laments of countless saintly souls, which form the most beautiful portion of Christian poetry. Alas! in what confusion are the minds and hearts of men! What a great truth spoke he who sang: "Man is a soul in ruins!" In order to be able to endure the harass- ing company of the warring beings within us, we must make use of all the resources of [65] Saint Teresa's patience. We must bear with the fancies and illusions of our mind, the inconstancies of our will, and the dreams of our fancy. "We are always children," said Balmes, "and as a child we must treat our heart. With firmness, yes ; but also with love, gen- tleness and patience. By over-severity we can gain nothing. The man who is irri- table with himself will never have control of his soul. The sweet and original St. Francis of Sales has written many golden pages on the gentleness, indulgence, and tenderness with which we must treat our own heart" (Devout Life, part III, chap. IX). A Kempis says: "That by patience and humility, and the assistance of grace, we must conquer all the frailties of human nature" (Imitation of Christ, book I, chap. XIII). But the great eulogist of patience as the remedy against the weakness of our own hearts, is the peerless Doctor of Carmel, our St. Teresa. The verse upon which we are now meditating may be considered as [66] Painful Interior Struggles the fifth principal one of her ascetic doc- trines with regard to God, our neighbor and our own heart. She had absolute confidence in gentleness and perseverance, that is to say, in patience. In her great work, The In- terior Castle of the Soul, rising to sublime, mystical heights, she pictures with inimi- table mastery the heart's inner struggles, and as a remedy for calming them she recom- mends constant gentleness. She does not de- mand self-impatience in order to attain to sanctity and the victory over one's faults. She dislikes all manner of violence; and she has placed absolute confidence in pa- tience. She knew, and sang of it with that angelical grace which no one will ever be able to equal, that from God, man, and our own hearts, Patience alone gains all things. [67] 7 Patience raises us towards God. . . .God has need of man .... How He exalts him by faith and hope .... He enriches him in the mind, in the soul, in the heart .... Providence, bread and labor .... The Evangelical Counsels. is the immense strength of the weak. With it everything can be ob- tained from God, from men, and from our own hearts. It is a magic word, which sheds light in the mind and warmth in the heart. It distinguishes the solid virtues from apparent ones, and crowns knowledge with the aureole of sanctity. God himself has bestowed its highest praise: The learn- ing of a man is known by his patience, and his glory is to pass over wrongs (Prov. xix, to- Patience is the greatest of human powers; the staff upon which he must lean who would rise into the moral world; it is a shield that casts back all the darts of calumny; it is the corrective in which the [68] Patience Raises Us Towards God acid of our own wrath and that of others is dissolved, forming the inestimable salt of Christian resignation; but above all pa- tience gives us wings to soar from earth to heaven, and draw nearer to God when the thorns here below pierce us. Heaven seems wholly beautiful when on earth we weep. The memory of God is sweetest when with- out being discouraged we suffer much. The heart that has been wounded and be- trayed by men and that has passed through the crucible of suffering, yet is always sus- tained by patience, begins to be consoled only when it seeks its comfort and places all its confidence in God. Therefore does our celestial poet sing the happy lot of souls who, on the wings of patience, rose above the miseries of earth and threw them- selves into the arms of God. And this is what she sang in this brief and simple phrase, so concise and so profoundly wise as to epitomize nearly the whole of Chris- tian teaching: Who possesseth God wanteth nothing. [69] Saint Teresa's God is the adequate object of our minds and hearts. The mind being made for truth and the heart for love and both for beauty, God, who is the uncreated truth and essence of infinite beauty and love, alone can fully satisfy the desires of the human soul. God and man, often enough without the latter being aware of it, have mysterious mutual sympathies they seek and in a cer- tain way need each other. Man has need of God as the poor man of the rich, as the weak of the strong, as the sick of the phy- sician, as the eyes of light, as the trees of sap, as the bodily system of blood, and as the soul of hope. And God also has need of man. You ask : How can omnipotence have need of dust and light of darkness? Ah, yes! It is indeed a truth which the mind cannot understand, but the heart feels it, loves it and adores it. God has need of man as the artist of the canvas on which he depicts his soul's greatest conceptions; as genius after its lofty flights needs another mind on which to shed its light and to [70] Patience Raises Us Towards God whom it can communicate its ideals, an- other heart to warm with its ardor and en- thusiasm; as a mother needs her children to press to her breast and to tell them of her ardent love. By a mystery that neither angels nor men will ever be able to under- stand, God loves man and he that loves needs the heart he loves, to whom he may whisper that intimate language which the human tongue can scarcely articulate with- out profaning a divine language. In order that these two beings who thus need and seek each other may find each other, a merciful and wise Providence causes man to rise and God to come down; and when they meet they embrace, and thus united soar to heaven where God will reign eternally with His Saints (Apoc. xxii, 5). From this meeting and embrace between God and man springs the happiness of the human heart. According as this divine tie is intimate and perfect, so will the soul's happiness be fulfilled and its constant and ardent aspirations satisfied. In heaven this [71] Saint Teresa's tie is perfect and indissoluble, because we will see clearly and without figures the di- vine essence as it is, in Itself, according to the language of the Apostle of tenderness and love. Hence happiness there must be most perfect, most complete, and eternal. Here on earth the tie is weak. We possess God only by an imperfect faith, hope and charity. It does not satisfy the heart's de- sires, and for this reason it is something fully realized only in the next life. Notwithstanding the present imperfec- tion of this union, yet even now to possess God, if only by the longings of faith, hope and charity, is the happiest lot that can fall to us on earth. The heart that possesses God in this way, if it compares itself with those who do not possess Him, may well ex- claim that it wanteth nothing. He has great wealth who keeps in his soul the treasures of faith, hope and charity for all the world, for God's sake and towards men. Whoever has faith has nobility; he has no need of family pedigree or creden- [72] Patience Raises Us Towards God tials of nobility who by a simple act of faith can trace his pedigree to Paradise itself and count God as his parental origin. He can never feel ashamed of his lineage who con- tents himself with his divine affiliation. Furthermore, in the secret of his soul he guards another claim, that of sanctifying grace, which gives him the right to look towards heaven as the eternal source of all nobility, and as his future home. He may be poor, lowly, uncouth, and infirm it does not matter; he is none the less the adopted son of God, with the right to an eternal in- heritance of peace and happiness. In order to enjoy it, he need only wait until he crosses the paternal threshold of a happy death. While he is on earth he is on his way. His arrival will be death, which for the Christian who has faith and charity is but a slumber whose awakening will be within the arms of God. Amongst men of faith, of charity and of hope, there can be no class disinherited nor any plebeians; all are noblemen and princes. The titles of [73] Saint Teresa's our greatness are contained in this docu- ment given to us by God Himself "7 have said: Ye are gods and all the sons of the Most High" (Psalm Ixxxi, 6). On the other hand, how poor and deso- late is the soul bereft of faith ; who knows not what it is, from whence it came, nor whither it is going! How lonely the breast destitute of infinite hopes and longings! How sad the heart that does not love with a love that shall be eternal! Unbelievers wilfully forsake their royal prerogatives, destroy the titles of their divine adoption, and renounce their heavenly inheritance. Against such as these has God pronounced His terrible sentence of degradation and seclusion from Paradise. Immensely rich is he who possesses God ; incomprehensibly poor is he who is bereft of Him. Whoever possesses Him in this world has all he needs during his brief so- journ here below; for he has faith, hope and charity, and these are all he needs, in- asmuch as he is a traveler who goes quickly [74] Patience Raises Us Towards God on from time to eternity, from earth to heaven. And as what is secondary always follows what is primary, so these spiritual gifts of divine faith and grace are followed by others of a precious though inferior order. God, in uniting Himself to man by grace, enriches him so that he lacks nothing, not only in the spiritual order, but also in the intellectual, moral and material order, in- asmuch as these latter are necessary for the conservation of the first. Who hath God wanteth nothing, even in the intellectual order. He may be neither a mathematician, nor an astronomer, nor a historian, nor a rheto- rician, nor versed in any human science whatsoever; but he has what De Maistre called with much inspiration the instinct of truth. People who are virtuous and filled with God feel the truth; they are able to distin- guish it in as far as it is necessary for the [75] Saint Teresa's principal acts of their lives; they have a clear and steady light, not proceeding from any human institution, illuminating them without dazzling them, and which bestows on them an abundance of practical religious sense. They have not sought truth by means of any philosophical system, and yet they are replenished with it. It sometimes seems as if their souls are bathed in a veri- table ocean of light. They know God, who is the light, and this radiant knowledge shines not only on the conscience and heart, but also sheds rays on the events of their life, and, although liv- ing in the same circumstances as the rest of mankind, it gives them a great advantage over them. "The science of God," says the illustrious Donoso Cortes, "imparts to those who possess it prudence and strength, be- cause at the same time it stimulates and ex- pands the mind I do not know of any man accustomed to converse with God and ex- ercise himself in divine contemplation, who, although placed in the same circumstances [76] Patience Raises Us Towards Cod as the rest of mankind, does not surpass them in that practical and prudent judg- ment called good sense." And the re- nowned Gaume adds: "It is from thence must we look for the science of life, sound judgment, the truth of propositions, the knowledge of the synthesis which combines the end with the means and the means with the end, the practical discernment of things life's great teacher, as Bossuet used to call it." Time testifies to the truth of these asser- tions. When rulers were men filled with the spirit of God, such as Recaredo, St. Fer- dinand, Cisneros and Isabel the Catholic, little was said about truth and virtue, and much done. In times of unbelief, statesmen have withdrawn from God, at any rate they do not want Him at their side while they legislate. You cannot deny their talent, for they are scholars and doctors and speak with fascinating eloquence; but good sense is lacking. In their minds there is light, but it is an artificial light, which stupefies [77] Saint Teresa's and dazzles, killing the noble energies of the souls of individuals and of nations. Ah! it is because these minds have not God; and if the mind that hath God ivanteth nothing, the mind bereft of Him has scarcely any- thing of avail. Neither can they who possess God lack anything either in the moral or emotional order. Because grace not only enlightens the mind by faith, but through the other theological virtues it strengthens the will and inflames the heart; and this divine fire neutralizes the flame of the senses. Then the law of God becomes sweet and easy, weari- ness and languor become things of the past. All our disorderly passions are silent, whilst the heart, gently dilated with the sweetness of divine grace, runs swiftly along the path of the most arduous duties. Even in the material order does God favor abundantly those who possess Him. The words to this effect are clear and def- inite: "Seek ye first the kingdom of God [78] Patience Raises Us Towards God and His justice, and all these things shall be added unto you" (Luke xii, 31). By no means does this signify that we are dispensed from the law of labor. God does not want us idle. In the material order, the same as in the spiritual order, He requires our co-operation. He gives us grace and with this we have all the necessary helps for salvation; but we must make use of it by practicing acts of virtue; it is thus that we shall save our souls. In the material order man plans his work and God blesses it and gives him abundant graces. Man plows and sows the seed, but God causes it to grow and bear fruit. With man's labor and God's blessing there can be nothing wanting to ultimate perfection in the material order. Yet even from the law of material labor has Providence partly dispensed those who con- secrate themselves completely to His serv- ice. The passage of the Holy Gospel which relates how Our Lord Jesus Christ pro- claimed this law, is one of the sweetest and most tender of Holy Scripture. "Therefore [79] Saint Teresa's I say to you, be not solicitous for your life, what you shall eat, nor for your body, what you shall put on. Behold the birds of the air, for they neither sow, nor do they reap, nor gather into barns; and your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are you not of much more value than they? . . . Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they labor not, neither do they spin. But I say to you, that not even Solomon in all his glory was arrayed as one of these. And if the grass of the field, which is today, and tomor- row is cast into the oven, God doth so clothe : how much more you, O ye of little faith? ..." (Matt, vi., 25-30). "And seek not you what you shall eat or what you shall drink; . . . But your Father knoweth that you have need of these things" (Luke xii, 29, 30). God has therefore solemnly pledged His word of honor. Those who consecrate themselves entirely to His service will be wanting in nothing, even as the birds of the air and the lilies of the field want nothing. [80] Patience Raises Us Towards God For two thousand years, uncounted thou- sands of young men and maidens have con- tinually been seen to renounce everything, be it large or small, and leave their paternal homes, without more means of support than this beautiful institution of the Holy Gos- pel. Unnumbered heroes have crossed seas and continents, trusting entirely to God's Providence for their support. The world has ridiculed and scoffed at them, yet men, always moved by a secret impulse, have found their way into the desert or to the door of the lowly hut in order to carry them a piece of bread. This is the ever-living miracle existing even in these days of utter indifference. It is divine Providence, who teaches us today as ever, that in no matter what sphere he lives, he Who hath God, ivanteth nothing. [81] tt Our Holy Mother St. Teresa .... Her profound and practical knowledge oj divine things and oj the human heart .... Her wonderful terseness oj expression .... Immense void in the human soul. . . .It can have or possess God, both in this world and in the next. x^T IS not easy to understand all of the ^ / truths enclosed in a single verse of the canticles composed by the inspired poet of Carmel. Her thoughts rise to such heights and her flights are at times so varied, that it becomes almost impossible to follow her. Her language seems divine, not only for its aesthetic beauty, but above all for deep penetration in divine truth. With a single word, with the briefest phrases, she ex- presses great truth of a very distinct nature. Her thoughts may be studied in different lights, and yet they always are noble, lofty, luminous and full of wisdom. Her words [82] Our Holy Mother Saint Teresa are rays of light that shed forth sparks of fire that enkindle our hearts. A lady of distinguished and cultured society, a holy nun and privileged Spouse of Jesus Christ, she yet practically knows the deceitfulness of the world, the charms of virtue, and the secrets of the Heart of God. She dwelt more in heaven than on earth; she had familiar intercourse with angels and saints : the Blessed Virgin often visited her, and she often saw at her side Our Divine Lord himself. Like another St. Paul, she was raised, not once, but many times, in wonderful ecstasies to heaven, and in spirit she traversed the eternal mansions of bliss. There she recognized some of her relatives and friends, among whom were her saintly parents. (Life, chap. XXXVIII, No. i.) The mystery of the Blessed Trin- ity was manifested to her in marvelous light, as the all-attracting source of the soul's happiness. Purgatory and hell were also shown to her, and for a few brief mo- [83] Saint Teresa's Boo\'Mar\ ments she experienced the terrible pains of those dreary abysses. She had therefore a practical knowledge of the greater part of the mysteries of our holy religion, superior to that of Dante. She describes to us the mysteries beyond the grave. Possessing thus a profound and practical knowledge of the human heart and of the mysteries of our divine religion, she spoke with clear, discerning knowledge, and her thoughts are luminous beacon lights reflect- ing truth, both natural and revealed. They illumine the tortuous paths of this life and give us a glimpse into the deep secrets of eternity. The writings of our Saint taught and ravished with delight and admiration the gentle soul of St. Francis of Sales and St. Alphonsus Liguori, as well as the genius of Bosuet and the marvelous talent of Leib- nitz. In loftiness and grandeur, and espe- cially in the beautiful freedom with which she expresses her thoughts, she resembles the holy prophets of old. These, in a single [84] Our Holy Mother Saint Teresa actual vision, would foresee events the most unconnected and which were distant from each other thousands and thousands of years. In the same way they frequently an- nounced the future as past. In a like man- ner, the Saint in her writings speaks with the same readiness of the most simple and transcendental matters. There are solemn moments in which she seems to rest upon the threshold of time and of eternity, un- veiling the vast boundaries of the visible and invisible worlds; for she tells us with astonishing clearness and wonderful preci- sion of things temporal as well as eternal. At times it seems that she participates in angelical knowledge; for if the angels con- tain in very few ideas their extensive knowl- edge, the most hidden secrets of nature as well as intellectual truths, St. Teresa sang sometimes in a single phrase the attitude of Divine Providence in heaven and on earth, with regard to the human race. No one has ever been able to express in a more exact and concise manner than she [85] Saint Teresa's did, the sublime happiness of the heart that possesses God, now by faith in this life, again by the beatific vision in heaven. As- cetics have written innumerable treatises to prove the peace, joy and divine consolation experienced by hearts, who with unbounded confidence throw themselves into the arms of God. Theologians have written massive volumes explaining the happiness of souls who in heaven enjoy the unveiled beauty of the Deity. Our Saint has spoken less and said much more; in a single phrase she has sung of the action of Divine Providence on souls, and the joys God imparts to them in time as well as in eternity: Who hath God, wanteth nothing. This thought is true in every sense and becomes more beautiful, the greater the height of vision in which we study it. We do not know whether the Saint wrote it after prolonged meditation and experience of the blessings which God showers upon those who, in this life, surrender themselves [86] Our Holy Mother Saint Teresa to Him; or whether she composed it dur- ing moments of divine inspiration, when in ecstacy she was raised to heaven and al- lowed to contemplate the joys of eternal bliss. We are ignorant as to whether she wished to set forth the beneficent action of Providence upon hearts that confide in God alone, or if with a single stroke of the pen she wished to portray the divine fulness of love and the eternal joys of the Blessed, re- lated as if by one who has actually seen and tasted them. But it is certain that she ex- presses all this with a clearness and ac- curacy that is astonishing. This thought, as applied to the inhabi- tants of earth, is a synthesis of the Holy Gospel, a compendium of Divine Provi- dence in His action on souls who believe and hope. Applied to those who are al- ready in possession of heaven, it is the clear- est and most compendious explanation of Beatitude. More could not be said, nor in less words. Everything that is said after- wards will be but comments on this thought, [87] Saint Teresa's for nothing can be added that it does not virtually express. Who hath God by faith and hope in this life, -wanteth nothing he can need on his brief journey from earth towards heaven. But who hath God in heaven with that perfect possession, the eternal and indis- soluble tie of love and light peculiar to eternal bliss, ivanteth nothing in order to satisfy the infinite capacity of his mind, the ardent longing of his heart and his soul's most sublime aspirations. Who hath God, wanteth nothing. Ah! This is a wonderful thought; one of the most beautiful that ever blossomed from the pen of our celestial Doctor. Herein are virtually explained the most difficult mys- teries of human life. Herein lies material for assiduous meditation for the most bril- liant minds, the most ardent hearts and the most inspired genius. Reason, genius, sen- timent, all have in this single phrase most ample scope in which to bask at will in divine sunlight, without ever reaching its [88] Our Holy Mother Saint Teresa confines. Herein are compended theology and philosophy. Who hath God . . . But, what? Can we possess God? Can dust hold immensity? Yes. But how, in how many ways? In order to hold God, what relations are pos- sible? Which of these are already estab- lished? In what manner do we actually hold them and how do we hope to complete them? Behold the sum total of theology, all of the transcendental philosophy of the world, and even the entire history of the human race. For all is man's and man is God's (I Cor. iii, 22 and 23). Our Saint, uplifted on the wings of faith, sets forth, not only as possible but as real, that divine longing of God for man. Who hath God, ivanteth nothing. Can there be a single moment in which there is nothing wanting to the human spirit? Profound mysteries at once present themselves to the human soul by the mere [89] Saint Teresa s utterance of these words. We do not know, now, even how much is wanting to us, for no one has sounded the immense abyss of the human soul. The more we give to our nature, the more it desires, the greater is its hunger, the more it wants. The great void of our souls is like the space wherein roll those globes of light called stars. The greater the telescopic power for penetrat- ing into the depth of space, the more plan- ets are discovered. Even the depths of the heavens have not been sounded, and much less those of the human heart. Our Saint seems to have known the emptiness of the heart, for she knows how it can be filled, which is by possessing God. In order that nothing may be wanting to the heart, an object adequate to its capacity must be given to it. The heart is made in the image of the infinite, therefore it must be given to God, infinite being; then only will it want nothing, because forever and in all things it will be a profound, marvelous and con- soling truth that, Who hath God, wanteth nothing. [90] How we shall possess God in heaven. .... He will satisfy the mind the will the heart the senses . . . .Lift up your hearts. x^N ORDER that God may satisfy all the ^ / cravings of human nature, and in such ^^^ a way that man will be able to say in all truth that in possessing God he wants noth- ing, it is necessary that between God and man there exist a bond, intimate, perfect and eternal; so that man possesses God in a real, immediate, complete and absolute manner. This is reserved for that life above which is the true life. In it, according to Catholic dogma, the soul will hold God in a perfect, absolute and eternal possession, because it will unite itself to Him intimately and in reality, lov- ing Him without measure and knowing Him not in enigmas or through interme- diate ideas, but by immediate and intuitive [91] Saint Teresa's Boo\'Mar\ vision. There the divine union on the part of man will be perfect and total, and his happiness complete and eternal. The blessed can well sing with the Carmelite poetess : Who hath God, wanteth nothing. In heaven there will not be a single hu- man faculty that will not experience a joy- ous satiety without weariness. Nothing will be wanting to the mind, for there will be the clear light of truth. Not a light such as in the world illumines the mind. This earthly light never manifests itself but through partial shadows; it enlarges the soul without ever being able to fill it, be- cause it is a slender and limited light. But the heavenly light enjoyed by the blessed is full, perfect and inexhaustible, giving joy and satiety to the mind, without producing weariness of the spirit. Uncreated light, infinite, and author of all that exists. All luminous things participate in its splendor; it contains, or it is, the principal source of the two states, real and ideal; it is the lu- [92] How We Shall Possess God minous torch from whence all created minds receive their light, and it is the pri- mary, efficient source that imparts being to all beings. It is the formal and adequate limit of all intelligences. It is the whole of uncreated truth, and, because it contains them as their source, represents all created truth. Therefore in this divine light are contained all possible truth. Therefore it is metaphysically impossible for the human mind to have obtained that divine light and not be completely satisfied. If in possessing all of the truth therein contained the im- mense craving of the created mind were not fully satisfied, it would be desiring something beyond the essential reason of truth, and this is absurd; as absurd as for the corporeal eyes to see the invisible, namely, that which has neither light nor color, nor the sense of touch to feel the in- tangible. No, nothing will be wanting to the mind, when in heaven it comes into the possession of God; eternally happy, it will bask in that immense sea of light, with [93] Saint Teresa's Boo\'Mar\ more freedom than the clouds and winds as they sail beneath the blue canopy of the firmament without ever going beyond its immense confines; neither will it be able even to desire it. Nothing will be wanting to the will be- cause the light of the intellect necessarily reflecting upon it, will cause happiness and perfect satiety. These two faculties having been created in order to guide one another, will walk in perfect harmony; the one can- not still be on its way if the other has al- ready reached its destination. The intellect being eternally filled with ecstasy in the in- tuitive contemplation of the uncreated truth, the will also must of necessity be rapt in the ineffable enjoyment of the Beautific Goodness. In the same manner as the Divine Es- sence contains in itself all truth, it includes also all goodness, created and uncreated, because it is the essential goodness and ef- ficient source of all goodness and beauty; and in the same manner as it satiates the [94] How We Shall Possess God mind with truth, it will also satisfy the will eternally by love of goodness and enjoyment of beauty. St. Augustine spoke with great certainty in saying of heavenly Beatitude that "it is the enjoyment of truth: Gaudium de veri- tate." (Confes., Bk. LX, chap. XXXIII.) Nothing 'will be wanting there to the heart or any of the other sensitive facul- ties, whose functions complete man's per- fection. The possession of God does not destroy nature, but, on the contrary, com- pletes it. So therefore, besides those joys of a purely spiritual nature, belonging to the mind and to the will, there will exist in heaven all those corporeal functions, which, without involving any kind of imperfection, unite in completing human nature. Above all we shall not want in those delicate affec- tions of holy love, that tenderness and re- fined sensibility, whose seat is the heart, and which frequently form the distinctive char- acter and noble crown of the innocence of saintly souls. [95] Saint Teresa's Boo\'Mar\ Without doubt these sensible affections are not essential to blessedness, nor can they augment intensively the happiness of the Saints; but neither do they impede it. Material joys do not form an essential part of blessedness, but are its ultimate comple- tion. There are some orators and ascetics who are accustomed to represent heaven to us in such a purely spiritual and abstract man- ner, that it requires all the effort of assidu- ous meditation in order to desire it. When treating of heaven they can speak of noth- ing but God, infinite in goodness and beauty, surrounded by light, and holding the mind and will in perpetual ecstasy. Though the fancy, the heart and the senses are faculties not so noble as intelligence and will, yet they are not to be despised, nor considered as if they were to remain in a state of eternal slumber. This way of looking at heaven may be very lofty, yet it little suffices to our actual mode of being. It is not enough to expose [96] How We Shall Possess God a truth; we must expose it whole and entire, and if possible (and it can always be done), we must in some way connect it with the heart, seeing that it must pass through this organ in order to be believed and at the same time put into practice. In the present case, the whole truth and conformable with all our most tender sentiments, is that when we shall fully come to possess God in heaven, in addition to the essential pleasure of the mind and will, we shall also expe- rience the pure joys of the senses, and espe- cially those whose source is the heart. This is the doctrine of St. Thomas, and after him, of all Christian theologians; and it is the only one that can satisfy all the yearnings and aspirations of the human soul. "Who knows, then," says Balmes, "but that the will, even after this life, will be surrounded by affections such as it now feels, well purified from the coarser part which come from its union here below, that oppresses the soul? There does not seem to be any intrinsic repugnance in this. And [97] Saint Teresa' if philosophical questions could be solved by sentiment, I would dare to conjecture that this mutual union of the faculties which we call heart does not remain in the grave, but takes flight with the soul to the immortal regions." And Monsignor Bougaud beautifully ex- presses this truth: "If I live in heaven, why should not all my dear ones live there also? ... I shall recognize them and per- fect the life of friendship, love and pater- nity that here had only been shadowed forth. There I will give them amplitude. As a son, I will go back over the long line of my ancestors to their very beginning, and I shall recognize them all. As father, I will go back over that of my sons until the day when my race shall have become ex- tinct, through my own fault or because God so wills it. I shall again find my friends and all those I have loved, and then I will love them truly. We will laugh together over what we then called love. Such is my absolute faith. . . . This life that now we [98] How We Shall Possess God here enjoy, of the family, of friendship, love and society, will be that of the mind, perfected." He then gathers together the echoes of tradition and of the Holy Fathers, and from the times of Tertullian to those of Fenelon, proves that all great souls have professed these tender truths, and he is provoked at those false mystics, who freeze the soul, and whose foolish doctrines open yawning gulfs between the most noble instincts of the hu- man heart and religion. (Bougaud, Chris- tianity and Our Own Times.) As to just when those joys of the senses shall begin in heaven, according to the teaching of St. Thomas, the Saints will not enjoy sensible delights until their souls shall have become reunited to their bodies after the general resurrection. Until then, eter- nal bliss will not attain its final completion. But at all events this great truth is ever cer- tain, that sooner or later, Who hath God,