The Spiritual Confrerences of SFS

In which it is asked what should be our aim in entering Religion.

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the appeal which our Mother has made to me, my dear daughters, to explain to you what should be your aim in entering Religion, is indeed the most useful, important, and necessary question that can be put. Truly, my dear daughters, many enter Religion without knowing why they do so. They come into a Convent parlour; they see Nuns with calm faces, full of cheerfulness, modesty, and content, and they say to themselves: "Ah! What a happy place this is! Let us come to it. The world frowns on us; we do not get what we want there." Another says: "Oh! How perfectly they sing in this Convent!" Others come in order to find peace, consolation, and all sorts of sweetness, saying in their thoughts: "How happy the Religious are! They have got safe away from all their home worries; from their parents' continual ordering about and fault-finding. Really one can never satisfy one's relations, and as soon as one thing is finished another has to be begun. Our Lord has promised many consolations to those who quit the world for His service; let us, then, enter Religion."

Now, my dear daughters, those three reasons for entering into the house of God are worth nothing at all. It must of necessity be God Himself Who builds the city [Ps. 126:1]; otherwise, built though it may have been, it must fall to the ground. I am willing to believe, my dear daughters, that your reasons are quite different; that you all are in good faith, and that God will bless this little flock in its first beginning. Two similitudes occur to my mind, which might make you understand how, and on what foundation, your reasons must rest in order to be solid. I will, however, content myself with explaining one of them, and that will be sufficient. Suppose the case of an architect wishing to build a house; he does two things. In the first place, he considers whether his building is intended to be for the use of some private individual, of a prince, or perhaps even of a king, as on this depends the manner in which he must set to work. Then he calculates methodically whether his means are sufficient for the undertaking; for who would begin to build a high tower without having provided himself with the necessary materials? He would only expose himself to just ridicule for having begun a thing which he could not finish to his credit. Then, too, he must make up his mind to destroy the old build­ing which stands on the site of the new one he has to erect. Well, my dear daughters, we desire to erect within our souls a great building, oven the dwelling-place of God. First, then, let us consider maturely whether we have sufficient courage and resolution to crucify and annihilate ourselves, or, rather, to permit God to do this for us, so that He may then rebuild us and make us the living temples of His majesty. I tell you, my daughters, that our only aim ought to be to unite ourselves to God, as Jesus Christ united Himself to His Eternal Father—that is, by His dying on the cross. For I am not now speaking to you of that general union which is effected by Baptism, in which Christians unite them­selves to God by receiving this divine sacrament, the stamp of Christianity, binding themselves to keep His Commandments and those of Holy Church, to perform good works, and practise the virtues of faith, hope, and charity. This union is indeed a true one, and may justly look for paradise. Those who have united themselves by this means to God as to their God, are not bound to do more; they have attained their end and aim by the general and broad way of the Commandments (well observed). But for you, my dear daughters, this is not the way. Besides this obligation, which is binding upon you in common with all Christians, God, by a very special act of love, has chosen you to be His dear brides.

You must understand clearly how and what it is to be Religious. It is to be bound to God by the continual mortification of ourselves, and to live only for Him. Our heart is surrendered always and wholly to His divine Majesty; our eyes, tongue, hands, and all our members serve Him continually. This is why Religion, as you see, furnishes us with all the means suitable to this end, such as prayer, spiritual reading, silence, the inward secret withdrawal of the heart to rest in God alone, and constant aspirations to Our Lord. We cannot possibly arrive at this except by continual mortification of all our passions, inclinations, tempers, and antipathies, and are therefore obliged to watch unceasingly over ourselves so as to destroy all these. Remember, my dear daughters, that unless the grain of wheat falling into the ground die, itself remaineth alone. But if it die it bringeth forth much fruit [Jn. 12:24]. The words of Our Lord are quite clear on this subject, His own sacred lips themselves having spoken them. Consequently, you who are aspiring to be Novices, and you who are preparing to be professed, look well again and again into your own hearts to see if you have resolution enough to die to yourselves and to live only to God. Weigh the whole matter well; there is still time for consideration before your veils are dyed black. I declare to you, my dear daughters, plainly and most seriously, that those who desire to live according to nature should stay in the world, and only those should enter Religion who are determined to live according to grace. Religion is nothing else than a school of renunciation and self-mortification; for which reason it provides you, as you see, with many instruments, both outward and inward, for mortifying yourselves.

"But," you will say to me, "that is not what I was intending at all. I thought that in order to be a good Religious, it was sufficient to desire to pray well, to have visions and revelations, to see Angels in human form, to be rapt in ecstasies, to love the reading of good books. And then, I was so virtuous, I thought, so mortified, so humble! Everyone admired me. Was it not being very humble to speak to my companions so nicely about devotional sub­jects; to tell those who had not heard the sermons all about them; to behave with gentleness to all members of the household, especially when they did not contradict me? "Certainly, my dear daughters, that was all very well for the world, but Religion demands that we should do works worthy of our vocation [Eph. 4:1] — that is to say, that we should die to ourselves in all things, as well in what is good in our opinion as in what is bad and useless. Do you think that the monks of the desert, who attained to such a close union with God, arrived at it by following their own inclinations? Certainly not; they mortified themselves in the very holiest things, and though they delighted in singing divine canticles, in reading, praying, and so on, yet they never did these things in order to please themselves. On the contrary, they deprived themselves volun­tarily of these pleasures, in order to apply to painful and laborious works.

It is, indeed, quite true that devout souls receive a thousand sweetnesses and satisfactions amid the mortifications and labours of holy Religion, for it is to them chiefly that the Holy Ghost distributes His precious gifts. But still, they must seek in it God only, and the mortification of their tempers, passions, and inclinations. If they seek anything else, they will never find the consolations to which they aspire It is true, however, that we need an invincible courage not to grow weary of ourselves, because there will always be something to do and something to renounce. The work of Religions ought to be to cultivate their souls well, so as to root out all the bad growths which spring from our depraved nature so luxuriantly, that we have continually to begin this work afresh. And just as the husband­man must not grumble or fret if he does not reap a good harvest, because no blame attaches itself to him, provided that he has done his best in tilling and sowing the land, so also the Religious must not grieve if he does not at once gather in the fruits of virtue and perfection, provided that he has cultivated the soil of his heart with great fidelity, and rooted out all that appears contrary to that perfection at which he is bound to aim; for not until we reach paradise shall we be perfectly cured.

When your Rule bids you[1] ask for books at the appointed time, do you suppose that, generally speaking, those which you like the best will be given to you? Not at all: that is not the intention of the Rule; and this applies to other cases. A sister feels herself, as she thinks, much drawn to making meditation, saying Office, or going into retreat, and the command is given to her: "My sister, go to the kitchen," or "Do such and such a thing." This is sad news for a Nun who is very devout. I tell you, however, that we must die in order that Christ may live in us [Gal. 2:20], for it is impos­sible to arrive at the union of our souls with God by any other means than through mortifica­tion. These words, "You must die," sound hard; but they are followed by others of inexpressible sweetness — "that you may be united to God by this death." You must know that nobody putteth new wine into old bottles [Mt. 9:17]; and as the wine of divine love cannot enter where the old Adam reigns, he must of necessity be destroyed. "But," you say, "how destroy this old Adam?" How, my dear daughters? Why, by exact obedience to your Rules. I assure you, and I speak to you on the part of God, that if you are faithful in doing all that they teach you to do, you will undoubtedly attain to that end to which you aspire — namely, the union of yourselves with God. Observe that I say doing, for we do not acquire perfection by folding our arms. We must strive in good earnest to conquer ourselves, and live according to reason, the Rule, and obedience, and not according to the inclinations which we brought with us from the world. Religion does, indeed, tolerate our bringing with us our bad habits, passions, and inclinations, but not our continuing to follow them in our daily life. She gives us Rules which are to act upon our hearts like presses, forcing out all that is contrary to God in them. Live, then, with courage and cheerfulness according to these Rules.

"But," one of you will say to me, "alas! what shall I do ? I have not got in the least degree the spirit of the Rule!" Truly, my dear daughter, I can easily believe that, for it is not a thing which we bring from the world into Religion. The spirit of the Rule is acquired by practising the Rule itself faithfully. I say the same with regard to holy humility and gentleness — those virtues on which this Congregation is founded. God will give them to us infallibly, provided that we take courage and do our utmost to acquire them. Happy and blessed indeed shall we be if, even a quarter of an hour before our death, we find ourselves clothed in this robe! Our whole life will be well employed if we spend it in stitching now one piece, now another to it; for this holy garment is not made of one piece only — there must be many pieces in it. You fancy, perhaps, that perfection is to be found ready-made, and that we have nothing to do but to put it over our head like any other dress. No, no, my dear daughters — no; this can­not be.

You tell me, my Mother, that our sisters the Postulants are full of good-will, but that they are wanting in strength to do what they wish to do, and that they feel their passions so strong that they fear even to begin the journey. Courage, my dear daughters! I have often told you that Religion is a school in which we learn our lessons. The master does not always require that the scholars should know these lessons without a mistake; it is enough if they have given their attention and done their utmost to learn them. Lot us do what we can, and then God will be satisfied, and our Superiors also. Do you not constantly see people who are learning to fence? They often fall; and the same with those who are learning to ride; but they are not considered beaten, for it is quite a different thing to be sometimes worsted and to be absolutely conquered. Your passions at times get the upper hand, and therefore you say: "I am not fit for Religion, because I have passions." No, my dear daughters, it is not so at all. Religion does not congratulate herself very highly on moulding a character gentle and tranquil in itself, and, so to speak, already formed. But she does triumph greatly when she brings back to virtue and sub­mission souls strong in their own inclinations; for such souls, if they be faithful, will surpass the others, winning at the point of the sword what those others possess without taking any trouble about it.

It is not required of you that you should have no passions; that is not in your power, and God wills that you should be conscious of them until death, for your greater merit. Nor even is it required that they should be already weakened, for that would mean that a soul who has not yet subdued its passions could never be fit to serve God. The world is mistaken in this idea. God rejects nothing in which no malice or ill-will is to be found; for I ask you, how can a person help being of such and such a temperament, and subject to such and such passions? The whole point lies, then, in what we do by virtue of that which depends on our will; sin being so entirely dependent on our will, that without our consent there is no sin at all. Suppose the case of anger surprising me. I shall say to it: "Come as often as you please, blaze up as furiously as you will, you will meet with no favour from me; not one single word will I utter to which you urge me." God has left us this power; otherwise, in demanding perfection of us, He would be laying upon us an obligation impossible for us to fulfil. That would be injustice, and God can never be unjust.

Speaking on this subject, a story occurs to my mind which I will tell you, as it will be useful and is to the point. When Moses came down from the mountain where he had spoken face to face with God, he saw the people worshipping a golden calf which they had made. Full of just anger and zeal for the glory of God, he cried out, turning to the Levites: If there is any one who is on the side of God, let him take sword in hand and slay all who approach him, sparing neither father nor mother, brother nor sister; let him put every one of them to death. The Levites did as he commanded, and vied with each other in the deadly work [Ex. 32:26-28]. So do you, my dear daughters, take in hand the sword of mortification to kill and annihilate your passions; and she who has the most to destroy, will be the most valiant if she will only co-operate with grace. These two young souls whom I see before me[2], one but little more than sixteen years of age, the other only fifteen, have but little to put to death, since their spirit is scarcely yet awakened; but those great souls who have gone through many experiences, and tasted the sweetness of paradise, it is for them to put to death and annihilate their passions.

As regards those, my Mother, whom you say have so great a desire for perfection that they wish to surpass all others in virtue, they do well indeed in thus satisfying their self-love; but they will do far better in following the rest of the Community by keeping their Rules strictly, for that is the right road which leads to God. You are very happy, my dear daughters—much happier than those of us who are in the world. When we ask our way, some tell us, "To the right," others "To the left," and very often in the end they misdirect us; but as for you, you have only to let yourselves be carried along. You are like those who travel by sea; the vessel carries them along, and they remain on board free from care or exertion; while they repose they are still going on their way, and have no need to inquire whether they are on the right track or not. That is the duty of the mariners, who, always seeing the pole-star, the sure guide of the vessel, know that they are steering aright, and say to the others on board: " Courage! You are on the right road!"

Follow, then, without fear your divine lodestar, Our Lord Himself; the vessel is your Rule; those who guide it, your Superiors, who generally say to you: "Proceed, sisters, by the exact observance of your Rules; you will then at last happily attain to the vision of God. He will guide you safely." But notice that I say: "Proceed, by exact and faithful observance," for he that neglecteth his own way shall die, says Solomon [Prov. 19:16].

You tell me, Mother, that our sisters say: "It is all very well to live according to Rule, but that is the ordinary path. God draws us by special attrac­tions; each has her own particular one; all are not led to Him by the same road." They are right in saying this; it is perfectly true; but it is also certain that if the attraction comes from God, it will without doubt lead them to obedience. It is not for us who are subordinates to decide anything about our special attractions; that is the duty of our Superiors, and for that, individual direction is prescribed. Be faithful to this direction, and be sure that you will then reap a harvest of blessings. If you do as you are taught to do, my dear daughters, you will be indeed most happy; you will live contented, and will experience even in this world a slight foretaste of the joys of paradise. But if Our Lord should deign to give you some inward taste of sweetness, beware of clinging to it. It is like the aniseed comfit that the apothe­cary sometimes mixes with the bitter potion which he prepares for his patient. The bitter medicine must be swallowed for health's sake, and in spite of the sweetness of the sugar, the patient must after­wards of necessity experience all the bitterness of that healing draught.

You see, then, clearly what should be your aim and motive if you desire to be worthy brides of Our Lord, espoused to Him on Mount Calvary. Live your whole life, then, and form all your actions according to this motive, and God will bless you. All your happiness depends on perseverance; I exhort you to this, my dear daughters, with my whole heart, and pray Almighty God to fill you with His grace and divine love in this world, and to make us all the happy partakers of His glory in the next.

Adieu, my dear daughters. I bear you all in my heart. To recommend myself to your prayers would be superfluous; for I believe that your charity never fails me in this respect. Every day I will send you my blessing from the Altar, and now receive it in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.

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[1] Chapter 18.

[2] This Conference was held in the first Convent of the Visita­tion at Paris, founded May 1, 1619. According to the Novitiate Book of that House, the two young souls here mentioned must have been Sisters Marie-Catherine Camus and Helene-Marie Grison, who were clothed November 25, 1619, one being fifteen and the other sixteen years and nine months.