Book II. Dialogue III: On purity of spirit
Q. In what does this purity consist ?
A. In making oneself master of a certain licence of the spirit which naturally leads it to think of whatever it pleases, when it sees no evil therein; or rather, it consists in possessing enough power over the spirit to moderate in it that activity which makes it run always after vain images of perceptible objects, just as children run after butterflies.
Q. Why is this necessary to the prayer of recollection ?
A. Because if the mind is accustomed to dissipate itself vainly in external things by continually sallying forth from itself, how can it return to itself at the time of prayer, and of that prayer in particular which demands a more recollected spirit, being as it is the prayer of simple recollection ? Moreover, if a mind is always vagrant and wandering among all sorts of agreeable or amusing objects, how can it avert its interior regards from them to fix them on the incomprehensible objects of faith ? and even if it could do so for a few moments, so many different ideas and pleasing images would come to retrace themselves in the imagination that they would be in this matter like a cloud of dust raised round a traveller, who then knows neither where he is nor whither he goes. It is then necessary to resist continually this natural roving of the mind; it is necessary to repress without ceasing one’s natural activity, never allowing oneself to encourage it, nor to
1 See Imitation of Christ, Book III, Ch. XXXI. Of neglecting every creature that so we may find the Creator.
l8g stray voluntarily into vain, frivolous or useless thoughts, regarding them all as if they were truly criminal, as soon as one has realized what one is doing.
d- Purity thus interpreted seems to me the most difficult of all.
A. As a matter of fact it is; but observe when once one has begun to enjoy God and his sweet peace interiorly one finds oneself drawn always back by this attractive inclination, the sweetness of which imperceptibly causes the rest to be forgotten. And as this same attraction leads us little by little into a distaste for creatures, we gradually come to think of them only with regret; and then we enjoy a certain liberty of spirit which makes us unable to take pleasure in anything but God and heavenly things.
d t. But what can we do to arrive at this happy condition ?
A. First we must try by the practising of recollection itself to destroy or weaken our unfortunate attachments. For all the most seductive thoughts and the most difficult to cast away come only from these attachments; the more they are weakened, the easier it is to have in mind and thought what we have begun to have in heart and affection; now it is only by pleasure and the vain joys of the heart that the mind attaches itself and fixes its looks on the objects from which proceed its gratifying feelings; as soon as we feel a purely natural pleasure, there is no longer need to pause in order to enjoy it, as if it were a criminal pleasure; thus at the least joy, either at good news or good fortune, we must withdraw our hearts from it, and replace it by its true object, which is God, so as to accustom the heart gradually to rejoicing only in God, and being pleased only in him. We must behave in the same way and for the same reasons with regard to every other strong feeling of the soul which is purely human, be it hope, fear, grief or affection, lest our spirit become wholly absorbed in such objects.
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Q. What should we do with regard to other less interesting thoughts which are merely useless or frivolous ?
A. We must let them drop from our mind as we should let a stone drop from our hands; and if through lack of watchfulness we take pleasure in them, as soon as we realize this we must recall the mind from the slightest straying, either by a simple remembrance of God, or by a rapid elevation of the heart to God, or by good thoughts prepared in advance and all calculated to divert the mind in case of necessity.
Q. I suppose you would not number among the useless thoughts either reflections on things necessary for the moment, or wise provisions for the future, nor saintly reflections on oneself or on one’s spiritual advancement ?
A. Who ever dared to say or think that any of all this is useless ? But you must know that here is one of the most secret ruses of self-love, which is jealous for the free course of its thoughts which are its true life and nourishment; you must know that there is a most subtle illusion caused by the natural activity of the spirit, which, without the aid of painful and almost continual abnegation, could not confine itself within the bounds of necessity when making these reflections; listen to me, and we will go over the four points we have mentioned.
On the pretext that it is necessary to think of what is to be said or done, how many useless and superfluous thoughts and reflections are made, for very often the very time which is lost in deliberation and self-consultation on trifles would be sufficient to carry them out; and with regard to the most important acts which demand each its due time for execution, and of which we try to think all at once, we allow to rise in the soul a confusion of thoughts, a chaos of reflections which agitate, disquiet, and disturb all our interior, and so bear down the spirit that it can no longer remember either God or itself, or what it should begin to do.
On the pretext of providing for the future, in order not to tempt God, so to speak, for how long do we not pile thought on thought, reflection on reflection, plan on plan; we exhaust ourselves with anxious forebodings, in vexatious solicitude, and often in most useless precautions. For when the time comes, either things alter their aspect, or we ourselves change our ideas and feelings; therefore we take new steps, often entirely contrary to those of which we had so uselessly thought and so vainly resolved on in advance.
On the pretext of making what we call examinations and reflections on ourselves, after having dealt with certain matters, heard or held certain discourses, there will be no circumstances too frivolous, either in time, place or persons, or words spoken and let slip, not to be exactly recalled and followed immediately by a new multitude of reflections which are worse than useless, for they only produce as a rule vain joys or vain sadness, or vain alarms, or even vainer hopes, which in their turn merely increase the natural dissipation of the spirit and overturn our interior peace by carrying trouble and anxiety to the very bottom of the soul.
Lastly, on the pretext of spiritual advancement, what vain and almost continual self-occupation occurs, either by recalling ceaselessly or at the wrong time the agreeable memory of the benefits of Heaven, of graces received, of the sacrifices we have had the courage to make and of all our actions, all our acts, all that happens or has happened in our interior; and above all gratifying ourselves with a thousand good and holy projects for the future, at the expense of the present; all of them reflections which interior abnegation and true death to ourselves must cut away ceaselessly, according to Article XVII of the Conference of Issy i1 It is expressly noted here that * all reflections on one’s actions and on the gifts of God, which one makes in order to gratify one’s self love, or to seek human support, or to be too occupied with oneself, are so many reflections not only useless, but even bad and dangerous ? 5 These again are precisely the reflections condemned by true spirituals and the holy mystics, whose words are often ill understood, by some prejudice or lack, I might almost say, of a certain intelligence or the necessary attention.2
Q. But how can we hold the natural activity of the spirit in the narrow bounds of this hard and almost perpetual captivity ? How are we to renounce continually the dearest delights of self-love, which are the sweet liberty of indulging at will in one’s own thoughts, in nourishing oneself with pleasing or gratifying reflections ? x
A. The method is to say to oneself in all circumstances: ‘ such and such a thing is done, of what use is it to occupy myself with it any longer ? ’ As to those things which it remains to say or do, we will think of those in their proper time, and God will provide for all; sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof; will not to-morrow and the next day bring with them their particular graces ? Let us then think only of the present and follow the order of God, let us leave the past to his mercy, the future to Providence, striving peaceably all the time and without anxiety, first of all for salvation; and for the rest, let us leave its success entirely to God, casting on his paternal bosom all our vain anxieties, for our faith tells us, according to S. Peter, that he hath care of us;3 2 3 let us then often say by a simple reflection of confidence and surrender, that can do more for us and better remedy all our ills than our own most anxious cares: 4 O Lord, while I do not wish to neglect anything of what thou ordainest for me, for the good of my soul or my body, I hope that in due time and place thou wilt grant me the thought, the movement and the facility to undertake and carry out such and such things which come so often and at such inappropriate times to present themselves to my spirit; I give them all up to thee with their various outcomes, in the intention of occupying myself more freely with thee, of waiting patiently and with complete resignation for everything to happen at the will of thy wise Providence ? By means of this holy preparation of the spirit and the heart, and all the sacrifices which it involves, this adorable Providence, which is always attentive to the needs and conduct of certain souls, disposes and arranges things in their favour to the very smallest event, which is only fortuitous in appearance; it is also by the frequent experiences of these happy and divine arrangements that their confidence and abandonment grows continually. Happy the persons who, in order to become more recollected in God and more disposed to prayer, are able to banish constantly all this waste of the spirit, retaining only what is in the strictest sense necessary for the present which so soon passes, and for the future which will not be what one imagines and perhaps will never come.’
Footnotes
Chapter 24 of 31