Part IV, Chapter XV

A Remarkable Example in Confirmation of the Preceding Remarks

To illustrate the whole of this instruction I will here relate an excellent passage from the history of St. Bernard, as I found it in a learned and judicious writer. Almost all, says he, who begin to serve God, and are not as yet experienced in the subtractions of grace, and in spiritual vicissitudes, finding themselves deprived of the sweetness of sensible devotion, and that agreeable light which invites them to run forward in the way of God, presently lose breath, and fall into pusillanimity and sadness. Persons of judgment account for this by saying that our rational nature cannot continue, for a long time, famished, as it were, and without some kind of delight, either heavenly or earthly. Now, as souls that are elevated above themselves, by the enjoyment of spiritual pleasures, easily renounce visible objects; so when, by the divine disposition, spiritual joy is withdrawn from them, finding themselves at the same time deprived of corporal consolations, and not being as yet accustomed to wait with patience for the return of the true sun, it seems to them as if they were neither in heaven nor on earth, and that they shall remain buried in a perpetual night. Thus, like little infants who have been weaned from the breast, they languish and moan, and become fretful and troublesome to every one, and especially to themselves. The following circumstance happened, in a journey mentioned in this history, to one of the company, named Geoffry of Peronne, who had lately dedicated himself to the service of God. Being suddenly deprived of consolation, and overwhelmed with interior disgust, he began to remember his worldly friends, his kindred, and the riches which he had lately forsaken; by which he was assaulted with so strong a temptation that, not being able to conceal it in his behavior, one of his greatest confidants perceived it, and, having taken an opportunity, accosted him with mildness, and said to him in private, “What means this, Geoffry? Whence comes it, that, contrary to custom, thou art so pensive and melancholy?” — “Ah, brother!” answered Geoffry, with a deep sigh, “I shall never, never more be joyful whilst I live.” The other, moved to pity at these words, went immediately, with fraternal zeal, and told it to their common father, St. Bernard, who, perceiving the danger, went into the next church to pray to God for him; whilst Geoffry, in the meantime, being overwhelmed with sadness, and resting his head upon a stone, fell asleep. Shortly after both of them arose, the one from prayer, having obtained the favor he had asked for, and the other from a sleep, but with so pleasant and serene a countenance that his friend, surprised at so great and sudden a change, could not refrain from gently reproaching him with the answer he had a little before given him, to which Geoffry replied, “If I told thee before, that I should never more be joyful, I now assure thee that I shall never more be sorrowful.”

Such was the issue of the temptation of this devout person. But observe, in this relation, dear Philothea, 1. That God commonly grants some foretaste of heavenly delight to such as enter into his service, in order to withdraw them from earthly pleasures, and encourage them in the pursuit of divine love; as a mother who, to allure her little infant to her breasts, puts honey upon them. 2. That, according to the secret designs of his providence, he is pleased to withhold from us the milk and honey of consolation, that, by weaning us in this manner, we may learn to feed on the more dry and solid bread of a vigorous devotion, exercised under the trials of disgust and spiritual dryness. 3. That, as violent temptations frequently arise during this desolating avidity, we must resolutely fight against them, since they proceed not from God; but, nevertheless, we must patiently suffer the avidity itself, since God has ordained it for the exercise of our virtue. 4. That we must never lose courage amidst those interior pains and conflicts, nor say with good Geoffry, “I shall nevermore be joyful”; for in the midst of the darkness of the night we must look for the return of daylight: and, again, in the fairest spiritual weather we must not say, I shall never more be sorrowful; for, as the wise man says, “In the day of good things be not unmindful of evils.” (Ecclesiasticus 11:27) We must hope in the midst of afflictions, and fear in the midst of prosperity; and on both occasions we must always humble ourselves. 5. That it is a sovereign remedy to discover our evil to some spiritual friend, who may be able to give us comfort.

I think it necessary to observe, Philothea, that in these conflicts God and our spiritual enemy have contrary designs. Our good God seeks to conduct us to perfect purity of heart, to an entire renunciation of self-interest in what relates to his service and to an absolute self-denial; whereas our internal foe endeavors, by these severe trials, to discourage us from the practice of prayer, and entice us back to sensual pleasures, that by thus making us troublesome to ourselves and to others he may discredit holy devotion. But, provided you observe the lessons I have given you, you will, amidst these interior afflictions, rapidly advance in the way of perfection. I cannot, however, dismiss this important subject without adding a few words more.

It sometimes happens that spiritual dryness proceeds from an indisposition of body, as when, through an excess of watching, labor, or fasting, we find ourselves oppressed by fatigue, drowsiness, lassitude, and the like infirmities, which, though they depend on the body, yet are calculated to incommode the spirit also, on account of the intimate connection that subsists between both. Now, on such occasions, we must never omit to perform several acts of virtue with the superior parts of our souls and the force of our will. For although our whole soul seems to be asleep, and overwhelmed with drowsiness and fatigue, yet the actions of the superior part cease not to be very acceptable to God; and we may say at the same time, with the sacred Spouse, “I sleep, and my heart watcheth.” (Canticle of Canticles 5:2) For, as I have observed before, though there is less satisfaction in this manner of performing our spiritual exercises, yet there is more merit and virtue. Now, the remedy on such occasion is to recruit the strength and vigor of our body by some kind of lawful recreation. So St. Francis ordained that his religious should use such moderation in their labors as not to oppress the fervor of their spirits.

As I am speaking of this glorious father, I must not forget to tell you that he himself was once assaulted by so deep a melancholy of spirit that he could not help showing it in his behavior; for if he desired to converse with his religious he was unable; if he withdrew himself from them it was worse; abstinence and corporal mortification oppressed him, and prayer gave him no relief. He continued two years in this manner, so that he seemed to be quite abandoned by God; but at length, after he had humbly suffered this violent storm, our Saviour, in an instant, restored him to a happy tranquillity. If, therefore, the greatest servants of God are subject to these shocks, how can we be astonished if they sometimes happen to us?

About ReligiousBookshelf.com · A Supernerd Media project