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Have all these favours which the Spouse has
granted the soul been sufficient to satisfy this
little dove or butterfly (do not suppose that I have
forgotten her) and to make her settle down in the
place where she is to die?
Certainly not; she is in a much worse state than
before; for, although she may have been receiving
these favours for many years, she is still sighing
and weeping, and each of them causes her fresh pain.
The reason for this is that, the more she learns
about the greatness of her God, while finding herself
so far from Him and unable to enjoy Him, the more her
desire increases. For the more is revealed to her of
how much this great God and Lord deserves to be
loved, the more does her love for Him grow. And
gradually, during these years, her desire increases,
so that she comes to experience great distress, as I
will now explain. I have spoken of years, because I
am writing about the experiences of the particular
person about whom I have been speaking here. But it
must be clearly understood that no limitations can be
set to God's acts, and that He can raise a soul to
the highest point here mentioned in a single moment.
His Majesty has the power to do all that He wishes
and He is desirous of doing a great deal for us.
The soul, then, has these yearnings and tears and
sighs, together with the strong impulses which have
already been described. They all seem to arise from
our love, and are accompanied by great emotion, but
they are all as nothing by comparison with this
other, for they are like a smouldering fire, the heat
of which is quite bearable, though it causes pain.
While the soul is in this condition, and
interiorly burning, it often happens that a mere
fleeting thought of some kind (there is no way of
telling whence it comes, or how) or some remark which
the soul hears about death's long tarrying, deals it,
as it were, a blow, or, as one might say, wounds it
with an arrow of fire.
I do not mean that there actually is such an
arrow, but, whatever it is, it obviously could not
have come from our own nature. Nor is it actually a
blow, though I have spoken of it as such; but it
makes a deep wound, not, I think, in any region where
physical pain can be felt, but in the soul's most
intimate depths.
It passes as quickly as a flash of lightning and
leaves everything in our nature that is earthly
reduced to powder. During the time that it lasts we
cannot think of anything that has to do with our own
existence: it instantaneously enchains the faculties
in such a way that they have no freedom to do
anything, except what will increase this pain.
I should not like this to sound exaggerated: in
reality I am beginning to see, as I go on, that all I
say falls short of the truth, which is indescribable.
It is an enrapturing of the senses and faculties,
except, as I have said, in ways which enhance this
feeling of distress. The understanding is keenly on
the alert to discover why this soul feels absent from
God, and His Majesty now aids it with so lively a
knowledge of Himself that it causes the distress to
grow until the sufferer cries out aloud.
However patient a sufferer she may be, and
however accustomed to enduring great pain, she cannot
help doing this, because this pain, as I have said,
is not in the body, but deep within the soul. It was
in this way that the person I have mentioned
discovered how much more sensitive the soul is than
the body, and it was revealed to her that this
suffering resembles that of souls in purgatory;
despite their being no longer in the body they suffer
much more than do those who are still in the body and
on earth.
I once saw a person in this state who I really
believed was dying; and this was not at all
surprising, because it does in fact involve great
peril of death. Although it lasts only for a short
time, it leaves the limbs quite disjointed, and, for
as long as it continues, the pulse is as feeble as
though the soul were about to render itself up to
God. It really is quite as bad as this. For, while
the natural heat of the body fails, the soul burns so
fiercely within that, if the flame were only a little
stronger, God would have fulfilled its desires.
It is not that it feels any bodily pain
whatsoever, notwithstanding such a dislocation of the
limbs that for two or three days afterwards it is in
great pain and has not the strength even to write; in
fact the body seems to me never to be as strong as it
was previously. The reason it feels no pain must be
that it is suffering so keenly within that it takes
no notice of the body. It is as when we have a very
acute pain in one spot; we may have many other pains
but we feel them less; this I have conclusively
proved. In the present case, the soul feels nothing
at all, and I do not believe it would feel anything
if it were cut into little pieces.
You will tell me that this is imperfection and ask
why such a person does not resign herself to the will
of God, since she has surrendered herself to Him so
completely. Down to this time she had been able to do
so, and indeed had spent her life doing so; but now
she no longer can because her reason is in such a
state that she is not her own mistress, and can think
of nothing but the cause of her suffering. Since
she is absent from her Good, why should she wish to
live? She is conscious of a strange solitude, since
there is not a creature on the whole earth who can be
a companion to her -- in fact, I do not believe she
would find any in Heaven, save Him Whom she loves: on
the contrary, all earthly companionship is torment to
her. She thinks of herself as of a person suspended
aloft, unable either to come down and rest anywhere
on earth or to ascend into Heaven. She is parched
with thirst, yet cannot reach the water; and the
thirst is not a tolerable one but of a kind that
nothing can quench, nor does she desire it to be
quenched, except with that water of which Our Lord
spoke to the Samaritan woman,[55] and that is not
given to her.
Ah, God help me! Lord, how Thou dost afflict Thy
lovers! Yet all this is very little by comparison
with what Thou bestowest upon them later. It is well
that great things should cost a great deal,
especially if the soul can be purified by suffering
and enabled to enter the seventh Mansion, just as
those who are to enter Heaven are cleansed in
purgatory. If this is possible, its suffering is no
more than a drop of water in the sea.
So true is this that, despite all its torment and
distress, which cannot, I believe, be surpassed by
any such things on earth (many of which this person
had endured, both bodily and spiritual, and they all
seemed to her nothing by comparison), the soul feels
this affliction to be so precious that it fully
realizes it could never deserve it. But the anguish
is of such a kind that nothing can relieve it; none
the less the soul suffers it very gladly, and, if God
so willed, would suffer it all its life long,
although this would be not to die once, but to be
always dying, for it is really quite as bad as that.
And now, sisters, let us consider the condition of
those who are in hell. They are not resigned, as this
soul is, nor have they this contentment and delight
which God gives it. They cannot see that their
suffering is doing them any good, yet they keep
suffering more and more -- I mean more and more in
respect of accidental pains[56] -- for the torment
suffered by the soul is much more acute than that
suffered by the body and the pains which such souls
have to endure are beyond comparison greater than
what we have here been describing. These unhappy
souls know that they will have to suffer in this way
for ever and ever: what, then, will become of them?
And what is there that we can do -- or even suffer --
in so short a life as this which will matter in the
slightest if it will free us from these terrible and
eternal torments? I assure you it is impossible to
explain to anyone who has not experienced it what a
grievous thing is the soul's suffering and how
different it is from the suffering of the body. The
Lord will have us understand this so that we may be
more conscious of how much we owe Him for bringing us
to a state in which by His mercy we may hope that He
will set us free and forgive us our sins.
Let us now return to what we were discussing when we
left this soul in such affliction. It remains in this
state only for a short time (three or four hours at
most, I should say); for, if the pain lasted long, it
would be impossible, save by a miracle, for natural
weakness to suffer it. On one occasion it lasted only
for a quarter of an hour and yet produced complete
prostration. On that occasion, as a matter of fact,
the sufferer entirely lost consciousness. The violent
attack came on through her hearing some words about
'life not ending".[57] She was engaged in
conversation at the time -- it was the last day of
Eastertide, and all that Easter she had been affected
with such aridity that she hardly knew it was Easter
at all.
So just imagine anyone thinking that these
attacks can be resisted! It is no more possible to
resist them than for a person thrown into a fire to
make the flames lose their heat and not burn her. She
cannot hide her anguish, so all who are present
realize the great peril in which she lies, even
though they cannot witness what is going on within
her. It is true that they can bear her company, but
they only seem to her like shadows -- as all other
earthly things do too.
And now I want you to see that, if at any time you
should find yourselves in this condition, it is
possible for your human nature, weak as it is, to be
of help to you. So let me tell you this. It sometimes
happens that, when a person is in this state that you
have been considering, and has such yearnings to
die,[58] because the pain is more than she can bear,
that her soul seems to be on the very point of
leaving the body, she is really afraid and would like
her distress to be alleviated lest she should in fact
die. It is quite evident that this fear comes from
natural weakness, and yet, on the other hand, the
desire does not leave her, nor can she possibly find
any means of dispelling the distress until the Lord
Himself dispels it for her. This He does, as a
general rule, by granting her a deep rapture or some
kind of vision, in which the true Comforter comforts
and strengthens her so that she can wish to live for
as long as He wills.
This is a distressing thing, but it produces the most
wonderful effects and the soul at once loses its fear
of any trials which may befall it; for by comparison
with the feelings of deep anguish which its spirit
has experienced these seem nothing. Having gained so
much, the soul would be glad to suffer them all again
and again; but it has no means of doing so nor is
there any method by which it can reach that state
again until the Lord wills, just as there is no way
of resisting or escaping it when it comes.
The soul has far more contempt for the world than
it had previously, for it sees that no worldly thing
was of any avail to it in its torment; and it is very
much more detached from the creatures, because it
sees that it can be comforted and satisfied only by
the Creator, and it has the greatest fear and anxiety
not to offend Him, because it sees that He can
torment as well as comfort.
There are two deadly perils, it seems to me, on this
spiritual road. This is one of them -- and it is
indeed a peril and no light one. The other is the
peril of excessive rejoicing and delight, which can
be carried to such an extreme that it really seems as
if the soul is swooning, and as if the very slightest
thing would be enough to drive it out of the body:
this would really bring it no little happiness.
Now, sisters, you will see if I was not right in
saying that courage is necessary for us here and that
if you ask the Lord for these things He will be
justified in answering you as He answered the sons of
Zebedee: "Can you drink the chalice?"[59] I believe,
sisters, that we should all reply: "We can"; and we
should be quite right to do so, for His Majesty gives
the strength to those who, He sees, have need of it,
and He defends these souls in every way and stands up
for them if they are persecuted and spoken ill of, as
He did for the Magdalen[60] -- by His actions if not
in words. And in the end -- ah, in the end, before
they die, He repays them for everything at once, as
you are now going to see. May He be for ever blessed
and may all creatures praise Him. Amen.
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