Volume I, Treatise V, Chapter IX

Of the Great Advantage We May Derive from Meditation; and How We Are to Perform Tt

Ir being very good, during prayer, to exercise ourselves in producing acts of the will, we will speak of those at present. They must be founded on reason. For man being a rational being, ought to be guided by reason; and consequently it is necessary that his understanding should be convinced before his will can be inflamed. Wherefore, one of the chief things we should have in view in meditation, is to disabuse ourselves of the errors of the world; to confirm ourselves in the belief of solid truths; and firmly to resolve upon what we design to do, and what we intend to avoid. When a worldly man begins to conform himself to a more Christian and regular life than ordinary, we are used to say that he is disabused; and to be thus disabused is one of the chief advantages we ought to derive from prayer. As this point is of very great importance, so it is also very proper we should particularly reflect upon it, and, above all, it is necessary in the beginning, that we apply ourselves to it with great diligence, in order that, by means of an exact discussion of things, we may be the more confirmed in the belief of essential truths. Wherefore, that we may be able to gather much fruit from meditation, we must not make it superficially, in haste, or after a tepid and Janguishing manner, but with very great fervour, and with all possible attention and peace of mind. Consider maturely the shortness of life, the frailty and vanity of all things in the world, the little which will remain with you after death; and, thereby, you will soon contemn and undervalue all things here below, and will fix your heart upon those things that will last for ever. Consider seriously, and frequently ponder, how little solidity there is in the esteem and opinion of men, and how ridiculous a thing it is, to torment yourself upon this account; because their esteem can neither give nor take anything from you, nor render you either better or worse than you are; and, by this means, you shall soon come to set no value at all on them. In fine, ruminate in like manner upon all other truths; and by this means you will, by little and little, disabuse yourself of the chimeras and errors of the age—you will confirm yourself in true sentiments and principles of piety—you will resolve upon what will conduce most to your salvation; and you will begin to become quite another man, and to lead a life altogether spiritual. “The solitary person will sit himself down,” says Jeremias, “and keep silence, because he is lifted above himself.” (Lamen. iii. 28.) He will find that his heart is become greater and larger than ordinary; he will mount in his thoughts even to heaven itself, contemning all earthly objects, and will say with St. Paul—“That for love of Jesus Christ, he looks upon them all as hurtful and pernicious, and, in comparison of gaining Jesus Christ, all other things are but as dirt and ordure.” (Philippians 3:8).

There is a very great difference between meditating and meditating; between knowing and knowing: for the wise man knows things after one manner, and the ignorant man knows them after another. Wise men know what they are in effect, and ignorant persons know only what they are in appearance. If a simple clown finds a precious stone of great value, he will esteem it for its lustre and exterior beauty; but for nothing else, because he knows not the value of it. But if the same stone falls into the hands of a skilful lapidary, he esteems it not only for its exterior lustre, but because he knows its value. The same difference is found between him who knows how to meditate upon spiritual things, and another that knows it not: he who looks upon things superficially, and regards only the outside, though their exterior beauty pleases him, yet he feels not an ardent desire of them. But he who knows how to examine them as he ought—he who weighs and considers them attentively, will easily undeceive himself and reject such as are of no value, and will resolve to compass what he perceives to be excellent, and knowing perfectly well of how great a value the precious stone is he has found, he makes no account of anything else; “but goes and sells all he is worth to purchase it.” (Mat. xiii. 46.) |.

This difference ‘is pointed out to us by Jesus Christ, in his curing the woman of a bloody flux. Our Saviour went to raise to life the daughter of a prince of the synagogue, and was followed by a great crowd of people, who encompassed and pressed upon him on all sides. This poor woman, who, for twelve years together, had suffered this bloody flux, having spent all she was worth upon doctors to obtain a cure, and finding herself still in a worse condition than ever; seeing the Son of God pass by, the great desire she had to be cured made her break through the crowd with a wonderful faith and confidence: “For she said within herself, if I can come but so near him as to touch his garment, I shall be cured.” (Mat. ix. 21.) In fine, she approaches him, touches him, and the flux of blood which she had suffered for many years wonderfully stopped upon a sudden. Whereupon, our Saviour turned about and asked, “Who had touched him?” And St. Peter said, “Master, the throng of people press upon you on all sides, and do you ask who touches your” “It is not, that,” replies our Saviour, “that I would

know, but some one has touched me in a far different manner from the rest, for | find that virtue is gone out of me.” (Luke 8:45) The chief point, then, is to touch Jesus in such a manner as to make him ask, who touched him? For it is nothing to touch him in the throng, aa the common people did, and as all the rest of the world do. What is of importance, therefore, in meditation, is, to touch Jesus Christ and his mysteries after such a manner, that we may feel the fruit and virtue of them in ourselves; and for this purpose we must examine things with attention, in detail, and at our leisure. We find neither sweetness nor bitterness in things we give not ourselves time to taste. So the sinner feels not the bitterness of sin, death, judgment, nor of hell itself; because, imitating sick persons, he swallows down the pills whole and entire, lest he should feel their bad taste; he looks upon things only in the gross, and never ruminates upon them. The reason, then, why we relish not the Incarnation, Passion, Resurrection, and all other mysteries, is, because we consider them very superficially, and descend not to particulars, and dive not into them as we should do, by long continued and serious meditation. We taste not a grain of pepper or mustard-seed, if we swallow it whole; but if we break it in pieces with our teeth, it is pungent, it smarts, and even draws tears from our eyes.

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