She begins to explain the second stage of prayer, in which the Lord already grants the soul more special consolations. These she describes in order to show that they are supernatural, and this is a most noteworthy chapter
HAVING spoken of the effort and physical labour entailed in watering the garden, and what efforts it costs to raise the water from the well, let us now turn to the second method of drawing it which the Owner of the plot has ordained. By means of a device with a windlass, the gardener draws more water with less labour, and so is able to take some rest instead of being continuously at work. I apply this description to the prayer of quiet, which I am now going to describe.
Now the soul begins to be recollected, and here it comes into touch with the supernatural, to which it could not possibly attain by its own efforts. True, sometimes it seems to have grown weary through turning the wheel, and toiling with its mind, and filling the buckets. But in this state the level of the water is higher, and so much less labour is required than for drawing it from a well. I mean that the water is closer because grace reveals itself more clearly to the soul. This entails a gathering of the faculties within oneself so as to derive a greater savour from that pleasure. But they are not lost or asleep. The will alone is occupied in such a way that it is unconsciously taken captive. It simply consents to be God’s prisoner, since it well knows how to surrender to One whom it loves. O Jesus, my Lord, how precious Your love is to us then! It binds our own love so closely to it as to leave us no liberty to love anything but you!
The other two faculties – the memory and the imagination – help the will to make itself more and more capable of enjoying this great blessing, though, on the other hand, it sometimes happens that they are a great hindrance to it, even when the will is in union. But then it should never pay attention to them but stay in its joy and quiet. For if it tried to make them recollected, both it and they might lose the way. Then they behave like doves who are not satisfied with the food given to them by the owner of the dovecot, without their working for it, and go out to seek nourishment in other places, but find so little that they come back. So these two faculties come and go, hoping that the will can give them some part of what it is enjoying. If it be the Lord’s pleasure, it throws them some food and they stop; if not, they resume their search. One must reflect that these activities benefit the will; without them, the memory and the imagination might do it serious harm by trying to give it a picture of what it is enjoying. The will must be careful in its dealings with them, as I shall explain.
Everything that happens now brings very great consolation, and costs so little labour that, even if prayer is continued for some time, it brings no weariness. The intellect now works very gently and draws up a great deal more water than it drew from the well. The tears that God sends now are shed with joy; although we are conscious of them, they are not of our getting.
This water of great blessings and favours which the Lord now gives us makes the virtues grow incomparably more than they did in the previous state of prayer. Our soul is already rising from its wretched state, and receives some little intimation of the joys of heaven. It is this, I believe, that increases the growth of the virtues, and brings them closer to God – that true Virtue, from which all virtues spring. For His Majesty begins to communicate Himself to the soul, and would have it feel how He is communicating Himself.
On arriving at this state, the soul begins to lose the desire for earthly things – and no wonder! It clearly sees that not even one moment of this joy is to be obtained here on earth, and that there are no riches, estates, honours, or delights that can give it such satisfaction even for the twinkling of an eye. For this is the true joy, the content that can be seen to satisfy. Those of us who are on earth, it seems to me, rarely understand where this satisfaction lies. It is always up and down. First we have it, then it leaves us, and we find that it has all gone and that we cannot get it back, since we have no idea how to do so. Even if we wear ourselves to shreds with penance and prayer and other austerities, it is of little use unless the Lord is pleased to grant us that joy again. God, in his greatness, will have the soul realize that He is so near to it that it need not send messengers, but may speak to Him itself. Nor need it cry aloud, since He is now so close that it has only to move its lips and He will understand.
It seems absurd to say this, since we know that God always understands us and is always with us. This is so, and there is no doubt about it. But now our Emperor and Lord wants us to understand that He understands us, and to realize the effect of His presence. He would have us know by means of the great inward and outward satisfaction that He gives it, and by the difference – which I have already mentioned – between this joy and delight and those of the world, that He is about to begin a special work in the soul. He seems to be filling up a void in it, which was scooped out by our sins.
This satisfaction lodges in the innermost part of the soul, which does not know whence nor how it came. Often it does not even know what to do or wish or ask for. It seems to find everything at once, and yet not to know what it has found. I do not know how to explain this. Many things demand learning, and learning would indeed be very useful here, to explain what is meant by general or particular aids, since there are many who do not know this. With learning one could show how the Lord now wishes the soul to see this particular aid with the naked eye – as they say. It would be useful to explain many other matters too, about which mistakes are made. But as this is to be read by persons who will know if there is any error in it, I will go on without worrying. I know that I need not be anxious from the point of view either of learning or of spirituality, since it is going into the hands of men who will understand what I write, and remove anything that is wrong.
I should like to explain this because it is a fundamental point, and because when the Lord begins to grant these favours the soul itself does not understand them or know what it ought to do. If God leads it, as He led me, along the path of fear and there is no one who understands it, it is a grievous trial. But it will be very glad to read an account of itself and to see that it is travelling on the right road. It will be a great advantage for it to know what it should do in order to make progress in any one of these states. I have suffered greatly and lost much time through not knowing what to do, and so feel great pity for those souls who find themselves alone when they reach this state. Even though I had read many spiritual books in which these matters are discussed, they are not very explicit. If the soul has not a great deal of experience, it will have as much as it can do to understand its state, however much they say.
I very much wish the Lord would help me to describe the effects of these things on the soul, now that they begin to be supernatural, so that men may know by the results whether they are from the spirit of God. I mean that I would have them know in so far as anything can be known here below, for it is always well to proceed with fear and caution. Even if they are from God, the devil can at times transform himself into an angel of light,1 and if the soul is not very experienced, it will not realize this. To realize this, indeed, it must have so much experience that it must have attained to the very summit of prayer.
The little time I have does not help me to explain myself. Therefore His Majesty must undertake this Himself. For I have my work to do in the community and much other business, since I live in a house that has only recently been founded,2 as will be explained hereafter. So I can never settle down to my writing, and must work a little at a time. I wish I had leisure, for when the Lord gives inspiration things go easily and better. Then it is like doing a piece of embroidery with the pattern before one. But if the spirit is lacking, there is no more agreement between the words than in so much gibberish, as one might say, even though one may have spent many years in prayer. Therefore it seems to me a very great advantage to be in the state of prayer when I am writing. Then I realize that it is not I that speak, nor is it I that am putting the words together with my own understanding. Afterwards I do not know how I have managed to speak at all. This has happened to me many times.
Now let us return to our garden or orchard, and see how the trees begin to grow heavy with blossom and afterwards with fruit, and how the carnations and other flowers begin to smell sweet. This comparison delights me, for often when I was a beginner – and may it please God that I have now truly begun to serve His Majesty – I mean ‘begun’ in relation to what I have to say later about my life – it used to give me great joy to think of my soul as a garden, and of the Lord walking in it. I would beg Him to increase the fragrance of those little flowers of virtue, which seemed as if they were beginning to bud, and to preserve them for His greater glory. I desired nothing for myself, and begged Him to prune any that He pleased, for I already knew that the plants would bloom the better for it. I speak of ‘pruning’ because there come times when the soul feels itself to be anything but a garden. Everything appears to be dry, and there is no water to keep things green. It seems indeed as if the soul has never had any virtue in it. Now it suffers great trials, for the Lord wishes the poor gardener to suppose that all his efforts to tend and water the garden have been in vain. Then is the proper time for weeding, and rooting out every worthless plant, however small it may be. We must realize that if God withholds the water of grace no work is enough. We must consider ourselves as nothing, or less than nothing. In this way great humility is gained, and then the flowers begin to grow again.
O my Lord and my Good, I cannot say this without tears and a great rejoicing in my soul that You should wish to be with us, and are with us, in the Sacrament! This we can implicitly believe, for it is so; and we can make this comparison in utter truth. If our sins do not prevent us we may rejoice in You as You rejoice in us, for You say that it is Your delight to be with the children of men.1 O my Lord, what does this mean? Whenever I hear these words they always give me great comfort as they did when I was far astray.
Can there possibly be any soul, O Lord, that reaches the stage where You grant it such graces and favours, and understands that You rejoice to be with it, and yet falls back into sin after so many favours and such great demonstrations of the love You bear it? Of this love there can be no doubt, since its effects are visible. Yes, there is indeed such a soul; I have fallen back in this way not once but many times. May it please Your goodness, Lord, that I may be the only thankless one, the only one who has committed this great wrong, and behaved with such excessive ingratitude. Yet Your infinite goodness has produced some good even from that; the wickeder I have been, the more the glory of Your great mercies has shone out What great reason I have to sing of them for ever!
I beseech You, O Lord, that it may so shine, and that I may sing of Your mercies for ever, since You have been pleased to grant them to me so liberally that all who see them are astonished. As for me, very often they draw me out of myself, that I may praise You better. For so long as I am in myself without You, Lord, and am like the cut flowers of the garden, I can do nothing, and this wretched soil is once more the dunghill that it was before. Do not allow this, O Lord, or suffer a soul that You have purchased with so many labours to be lost, a soul that you have so often ransomed anew, and have snatched from the teeth of the hideous dragon.
Forgive me, your Reverence, for wandering from my subject, and do not be surprised, for I am following my own purpose. The writing seems to take control of my soul; and it is very often quite hard to break off my praise of God, when the great debt that I owe Him springs to my mind as I write. I do not think that this will displease you. Father, for I believe we can both sing the same song, though in a different way. But my debt to God is by far the greater, since He has forgiven me more, as your Reverence knows.