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When God bids you be still in prayer, humble yourself silently
before His Majesty
It is well known that there are two kinds of mental prayer:
meditation and contemplation. Meditation is to contemplation what
active recollection is to passive. In meditation, all the powers
of the soul, the memory, understanding and will, and even the
imagination, have full scope, and from each is drawn what is most
suitable to the end in view. A distinct subject is presented
before the mind, on which reflections are made, and affections and
resolutions formed. There are many good books on the subject, and
I shall say little here respecting it.
In contemplation, or prayer properly so called, the soul neither
reflects nor forms affections and resolutions. Yet neither are the
understanding and will idle. For if the contemplation be distinct,
the understanding sees, though without reasoning, the object
presented to it by God. If it be confused, and offers to the soul
no special object, the understanding holds itself in the presence
of God, humbles itself before His supreme Majesty, and listens
silently to the instruction given without sound or distinctness of
words (which is the manner in which God's instruction is usually
given). This attention is itself an act of the understanding,
unperceived because so simple, but not therefore less real. The
confused, general and indistinct object, which is then presented
to the soul, is God Himself, but hidden in a cloud of faith;
whereas in distinct contemplation, God unfolds one of His
perfections or some particular mystery of religion.
We may form some idea of these two kinds of contemplation, if we
remember the different ways in which we look at things about us,
sometimes fixing our eyes on a certain point, at other times
regarding vaguely without noticing anything in particular.
Nor is the repose of the will in contemplation to be considered as
inaction. In the first place, its freedom is being continually
exercised, since we are at prayer because we choose to be so, and
frequently have to resist the temptation to give it up on account
of distractions, dryness, or even evil thoughts which assail us at
such times. Secondly, the will is either in a state of union, or
in a constant tendency to union, with God, since it is only with
that purpose that it perseveres in this kind of prayer. In the
third place, it receives a sense of divine sweetness which gives
place to joy and peace. Lastly, if the soul experiences nothing,
and the time of prayer is spent in suffering, the will is then in
a state of sacrifice, which it accepts in submission to God's good
pleasure. Moreover, in that true repose which God bestows on the
soul, as in the false repose which is the result of delusion,
there is always some action on the part of the understanding and
will.
The difference between the real and false repose is, not that the
soul acts in true prayer and is silent in false, but that in the
former God is the agent, whereas the second is due either to the
imagination or the devil. However it may be--and I do not wish to
press the matter here--it would be wrong to call the holy repose
in which God holds the soul during contemplation idleness, and no
one should feel obliged to give it up on that account. But what
one should do is this. One should examine by the rules laid down
by the saints whether or not this repose comes from God. If it
does, who would be rash enough to dare to disturb the peace of a
soul in which God's action is taking place? If it does not, then
the soul must be undeceived and set right.
These rules are as follows. In the first place, so long as we have
the free use of our powers and can meditate with ease, we ought
not to leave off. But it is the advice of spiritual writers that
when we have sufficiently absorbed the truths we have been
meditating on, and have considered them under every aspect, we
should either wholly or in part cease from acts of the
understanding and pass on to those of the will, which are much
more essential, and lead us to love the truths we have already
learned. For the aim of meditation is to move the will, and rouse
it to shun vice and practise virtue.
Secondly, after meditation has been practised for some time, and
the proper fruit has been derived therefrom, one begins to be
aware that God is drawing the will to a particular state of rest.
The will now produces no distinct affections or, if it wants to do
so through long habit, it is gently checked and drawn to enjoy
rather than to act. It is then that the soul is entering into the
passive way. God Himself is leading it, and it would be harmful to
the soul's advancement if it offered any resistance.
Thirdly, it is sometimes the case that a person truly devoted to
God finds his efforts to meditate all in vain. If, after many
attempts to do so, he finds himself unable to succeed, whether by
reason of the simplicity of his mind which takes things in at a
glance, or because of the bouyancy and vivacity of his
imagination, or from any other cause, he would do well, on the
advice of his confessor, to try simply to remain quiet in the
presence of God, entreating the Holy Spirit to teach him to pray;
or, like Samuel and David, listening to whatever God has to say to
him in his heart. If this method suits him, if he feels calm and
at peace, and comes away from such times of prayer more devoted to
God's service and more determined to overcome himself, then he may
take it that his prayer is good, and that God is acting in it. The
effects will be the guarantee, and these are always peace,
spiritual joy, the love of God, and an effectual desire to advance
in virtue, which are always the fruits of the Holy Spirit. [80]
Fourthly, it may occur that when we betake ourselves to prayer, we
feel the powers of the soul fettered, so that we cannot bring them
to bear on the subject on which we proposed to meditate. For
instance, we take up a book such as the Imitation, or one of
similar character, but we have no sooner laid it down that we lose
all recollection of what he have been reading, and the mind
remains as it were in a vacuum. Now if this inability to think is
accompanied by a sweet peace, which fully occupies the soul, it is
one of the most assured signs that God is placing the soul in a
state of passive prayer, and we must beware of making any effort
to withdraw from that way. Even if this inability to meditate is
accompanied by perplexity, darkness and temptation, yet if the
soul is true and stands firm against these storms, they will soon
pass and be followed by a great calm, and may be regarded as a
preparation for the most signal favours of God.
In the last place, the usual proof that our prayer is good is the
generous and continued practice of interior mortification. There
is no cause for apprehension concerning the prayer of a person who
is singlehearted, straightforward, docile, humble, capable of
great selfcontrol, endowed with good will, ready to undertake
cheerfully all the means suggested to it for overcoming faults,
acknowledging them frankly and taking rebukes all in good part. If
the spirit of God guides the rest of his conduct, we can hardly
imagine that it will forsake him in the time of prayer.
But the application of these rules is a matter for the director.
We should not judge ourselves, else we shall run the risk of
deceiving ourselves. Humility and obedience are the two cardinal
points on which the interior life turns. Therefore, when we
believe it to be God's will that we should leave the ordinary way,
we should in all simplicity represent our state to our spiritual
guide, and thus enable him to decide. This is all the more
necessary, since without his advice we cannot maintain ourselves
in the different states of prayer. We ought also to keep him
informed of all that takes place in our souls, in order that he
may shield us from delusion, and strengthen us against temptations
and trials.If, through lack of knowledge or prejudice against
contemplative prayer, the director should mistakenly decide
regarding our state, we must at once acquiesce in his decision,
and do as he wishes. Thus St. Teresa abstained for a whole year
from contemplative prayer by order of her confessor. Nevertheless,
should we feel a certain discomfort, an inward constraint, which
seems to us a sure sign that the director was taking us out of our
proper sphere and making us go against God's action, then we might
consult other confessors more enlightened and follow their advice.
Thus St. Teresa, condemned as we have said by the doctors of
Alcala, was reassured by St. Peter of Alcantara and St. Francis
Borgia. God always blesses obedience and submission of the
judgment. He will either, in His own way, cause the confessor to
see our state in its true light, or else direct us to some other
person.
I have said that God alone can, and may, bid the reason be silent
in time of prayer. He has endowed the soul with powers, in order
that they may be used so long as He grants them liberty. It was
the false and heretical doctrine of Molinos that man ought to
annihilate them himself: that is to say, reduce them to inaction.
But any such inaction, voluntarily produced, would render us a
prey to every freak of the imagination and every delusion of the
heart.
Besides, according to the principles of true philosophy, the soul
cannot of itself fetter its powers. This requires a superior
agent, distinct from itself, and acting upon it with irresistible
force. When God binds the soul in this way, it is amazed by the
power brought to bear upon it, and perceives clearly that it comes
from without. Sometimes it attempts with all its own strength to
resist it, but all to no purpose. Anyone who knows this state and
speaks of it, will tell you that one can do nothing: neither use
one's memory, make any reflection, or excite any emotion. I am
become as a beast (of burden) before Thee [81] says the Psalmist,
and that is perfectly true; we become like a log of wood, waiting
for God to kindle it.
These are the usual expressions on the part of persons who have
experienced this state. They do not place themselves in it, for
that would be a contradiction. Moreover, when sensible tokens of
grace are withdrawn, which frequently happens, this state is far
from giving pleasure to the soul; it is, on the contrary, very
painful, being absolutely contrary to nature. We can only continue
in this condition by sheer fidelity, because we cannot doubt that
it is God's will. If we listened to our own promptings, we should
renounce it altogether.
A confessor who is not on his guard may be deceived, and may lend
an ear to the description of fictitious states of the soul. But if
he knows what contemplation is, and if nothing is kept back from
him, he cannot possibly confound real inability to pray with that
state of inaction for which one is oneself responsible.
Let it not be supposed that true contemplation is an act which,
being once entered upon, continues naturally and needs no renewal.
This error, if taught by any mystic, lapses into the heresy of
Molinos. I say, if taught, for it may well have happened that
those who opposed it were mistaken, and took for contemplation the
act by which the soul gives itself to God, and consecrates itself
to His service in order to fulfil His will in all things. This
latter act has no need of renewal, so long as we are faithful and
do not go back on it, for it always subsists in intention and in
fact. That does not mean to say that it is a continuous act, which
is never suspended nor interrupted. It is an act, transitory in
itself but abiding in its effects, so long as it not annulled by a
contrary act. It is as though I formed the intention of making a
journey and set out on the road. There is no need for me to be
continually renewing my intention: I just carry on towards my
journey's end, without stopping on the way or turning aside from
it.
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