|
The night before the great S. Peter was to suffer
martyrdom, an angel came to the prison and filled it
with splendour, awoke S. Peter, made him arise, made
him gird himself, and put on his shoes and clothes,
freed him from his bonds and shackles, drew him out
of prison, and led him through the first and second
guard, till he came to the iron gate which gave on
the town; this of itself flew open before them, and
having passed through one street, the angel left the
glorious S. Peter there in full liberty.
Behold a great variety of very corporeal actions,
and yet S. Peter, who was awake from the beginning,
did not apprehend that what was done by the angel was
done in deed, but esteemed it a vision of the
imagination. He was awake and yet did not think so,
he put on his clothes and shoes not knowing that he
had done it, he walked and yet thought he walked not,
he was delivered and believed it not, and all this
because the wonder of his deliverance was so great,
and it engaged his heart in such sort, that though he
had sense and knowledge enough to do what he did, yet
had he not enough to discover that he did it really
and in good earnest.
He saw indeed the angel, but he did not discern
that it was with a true and natural vision, wherefore
he took no consolation in his delivery till such time
as, coming to himself: Now, said he, I know in very
deed that the Lord hath sent his Angel, and hath
delivered me out of the hand of Herod, and from all
the expectation of the people of the Jews.(1)
Now, Theotimus, after the same manner it fares
with a soul which is overcharged with interior
anguishes; for although she has the power to believe,
to trust, and to love her God, and in reality does
so, yet she has not the strength to see properly
whether she believes, hopes and loves, because her
distress so engages her, and makes head against her
so desperately, that she can get no time to return
into her interior and see what is going on there. And
hence she thinks that she has no faith, nor hope, nor
charity, but only the shadows and fruitless
impressions of those virtues, which she feels in a
manner without feeling them, and as if foreign,
instead of natural, to her soul.
And, if you notice, you will find our souls always
in this state when they are strongly occupied by some
violent passion, for they perform many actions as
though they were in a dream, with so little sense of
what they do that they can scarcely believe the
things actually happen.
Hence the sacred Psalmist expresses the greatness
of the consolation of the Israelites on their return
from the captivity of Babylon in these words: When
the Lord brought back the captivity of Sion, we
became like men comforted.(2) And as the holy Latin
version, following the Septuagint, has it: facti
sumis "sicut" consolati: that is, our wonder at the
greatness of the good which came to us was so
excessive, that it hindered us from properly feeling
the consolation which we received, and it seemed to
us that we were not truly comforted, nor had
consolation in real truth, but only in a figure and a
dream.
Such then are the feelings of the soul which is in
the midst of spiritual anguishes. These do
exceedingly purify and refine love, for being
deprived of all pleasure by which its love might be
attached to God, it joins and unites us to God
immediately, will to will, heart to heart, without
any intervention of satisfaction or desire.
Alas! Theotimus, how the poor heart is afflicted
when being as it were abandoned by love, she seeks
everywhere, and yet seems not to find it. She finds
it not in the exterior senses, they not being capable
of it; nor in the imagination, which is cruelly
tortured by conflicting impressions; nor in the
understanding, distracted with a thousand obscurities
of strange reasonings and fears; and though at length
she finds it in the top and supreme region of the
spirit where it resides, yet the soul does not
recognize it, and thinks it is not love, because the
greatness of the distress and darkness hinders her
from perceiving its sweetness.
She sees it without seeing it, meets it but does
not know it, as though all passed in a dream only, or
in a type. In this way Magdalen, having met with her
dear Master, received no comfort from him, because
she thought that it was not he indeed, but the
gardener only.
But what is the soul to do that finds herself in this
case? Theotimus, she knows not how to behave herself
amidst so much anguish; nor has she any power save to
let her will die in the hands of God's will;
imitating her sweet Jesus, who being arrived at the
height of the pains of the cross which his Father had
ordained, and not being able any further to resist
the extremity of his torments, did as the hart does,
- which when it is run out of breath, and oppressed
by the hounds, yielding itself up into the huntsman's
hands, its eyes filled with tears, utters its last
cries.
For so this Divine Saviour, near unto his death,
and giving up his last breath with a loud voice and
abundance of tears - Alas! said he, O Father, into
thy hands I commit my spirit: - a word, Theotimus,
which was his very last, and the one by which the
well-beloved Son gave the sovereign testimony of his
love towards his Father: When therefore all fails us,
when our troubles have come to their extremity, this
word, this disposition, this rendering up of our soul
into our Saviour's hands, can never fail us.
The Son commended his spirit to his Father in this
his last and incomparable anguish, and we, when the
convulsions of spiritual pains shall bereave us of
all other sort of solace and means of resistance, let
us commend our spirit into the hands of this eternal
Son who is our true Father, and bowing the head of
our acquiescence in his good pleasure, let us make
over our whole will unto him.
|