What Infused Contemplation Does Not Essentially Require

What Infused Contemplation Does Not Essentially Require

CHAPTER V

CONTEMPLATION AND ITS DEGREES

SINCE we have determined in the light of revelation and also in that of experience what the full perfection of the Christian life should be, we must now examine the second part of the problem and see whether this full perfection truly supposes infused or mystical contemplation. With this end in view, after recalling what prayer in general and common prayer should be, we will consider: (1) the different meanings of the words, "contemplation," "ordinary," and "extraordinary"; (2) the description of mystical contemplation and its degrees according to the most authoritative saints; (3) what infused contemplation does not essentially require; (4) what constitutes contemplation and from what principle it proceeds. From the consideration of these points, we shall see whether contemplation is extraordinary in itself, as a miraculous favor is, or whether it belongs to the full, normal development of the life of grace on earth.

ARTICLE I

Prayer in General and Common Prayer

     First of all, we must have a correct idea of prayer in general and recall what St. Augustine and St. Thomas teach about the prayer of petition.¹

I. THE PRAYER OF PETITION

We seem at times to believe that prayer is a force, with its first principle in ourselves, by which we try to bend the will of God with persuasion. Immediately we are confronted with this difficulty, often formulated by unbelievers and in particular by deists, namely, that no one can move or bend the will of God. God is without doubt goodness which asks only to give itself, mercy ever ready to come to the help of him who suffers and implores; but He is also perfectly immutable being. The will of God is from all eternity as inflexible as it is merciful. No one can boast of having enlightened God, of having made Him change His will. "I am the Lord and I do not change." The order of the world and the course of human events are, by His providential decree, mightily and gently, as well as irrevocably, determined in advance. Must we conclude that our prayer can accomplish nothing, that it comes too late, and that, whether we pray or not, what is going to happen will happen?

     We have our Lord's words in the Gospel: "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you." Prayer is not a force with its first principle in ourselves; it is not an effort of the human soul trying to do violence to God to make Him change His providential dispositions. At times these human ways of expression are used metaphorically. In reality, the will of God is absolutely immutable; and precisely in this immutability lies the source of the infallible efficacy of prayer.

     Basically it is very simple. True prayer, by which we ask for ourselves with humility, confidence, and perseverance, the gifts necessary for our sanctification, is infallibly efficacious, because God, who cannot contradict Himself, has decreed that it should be so, and because our Lord has promised it.²

     It is puerile even to conceive of a God who would not have foreseen and willed from all eternity the prayers we address to Him, or of a God who would incline before our will and change His designs. Not only all that happens has been foreseen and willed, or at least permitted, in advance by a providential decree, but the way things happen, the causes that produce events, all have been determined from all eternity by Providence. In all orders, physical, intellectual, and moral, in view of certain effects, God has prepared the causes that must produce them. For material harvests, He has prepared the seed; to make parched soil fertile, He willed abundant rainfall. He raises up a great military leader to bring about a victory which will be the salvation of a people. To give the world a man of genius, He prepares a superior intellect served by a better brain, by special heredity, by a privileged intellectual environment. To regenerate the world in its most troubled periods, He decided there should be saints. And to save humanity, divine Providence prepared from all eternity the coming of Jesus Christ. In all orders, from the lowest to the highest, God disposes causes in view of certain effects which they are to produce. For spiritual as well as material harvests, He has prepared the seed, without which the harvest will not be obtained.

     Prayer is precisely a cause ordained to produce this effect, the obtaining of God's gifts necessary or useful for salvation. All creatures live by the gifts of God, but only intellectual creatures take cognizance of this fact. Stones, plants, and animals receive without knowing that they do so. Man lives by the gifts of God, and he knows it. If the carnal man forgets this fact, it is because he does not live as a man. If the proud will not admit it, that is because pride is the greatest foolishness. Existence, health, strength, the light of understanding, moral energy, the success of our undertakings, all are the gift of God; but especially is this true of grace, which leads us to salutary good, makes us accomplish it, and persevere therein.

     Is it surprising that divine Providence wills that man should ask for alms, since man understands that he lives only on alms? Here as elsewhere, God wills first of all the final effect, then He ordains the means and the causes which are to produce it. After deciding to give, He decides that we shall pray in order to receive; just as a father, who purposes in advance to grant a favor to his children, resolves to make them ask for it. The gift of God is the result; prayer is the cause ordained to obtain it. It has its place in the life of the soul, that it may receive the good things necessary or useful for salvation, as heat and electricity have their place in the physical order.

     Jesus, who willed to convert the Samaritan woman, said to her, for the purpose of leading her to pray: "If thou didst know the gift of God . . . thou perhaps wouldst have asked of Him, and He would have given thee living water . . . springing up into life everlasting."

     From all eternity God foresaw and permitted the falls of Mary Magdalen, but He had His designs on her and willed to restore life to that dead soul. He decided, however, that this life would be restored to her only on condition that she desired it. He also decided to give her a very strong and gentle actual grace that would make her pray. This is the source of the efficacy of prayer. Because Magdalen prayed, sanctifying grace was given to her; but certainly, without prayer she would have remained in her sin. It is, therefore, as necessary to pray if we are to obtain God's assistance which we need for the observance of the divine law and for perseverance in it, as it is necessary to sow seed if we are to reap grain.

     Consequently we should not say: "Whether we prayed or not, whatever was going to happen, would happen." This would be as silly as to say: "Whether we sow or not, once summer has come, if we are to have wheat, we shall have it." Providence has to do not only with the result, but also with the means to be employed. It safeguards human liberty by a grace as sweet as it is strong. "Amen, amen I say to you: if you ask the Father anything in My name, He will give it you."

     Prayer is not, then, a weak force with its first principle in us. The source of its efficacy is in God and the infinite merits of Jesus Christ. It descends from an eternal decree of God; it springs from redeeming love, and it reascends to the divine mercy. A jet of water cannot rise unless the water descends from an equal height. Likewise, when we pray it is not a question of persuading God, of inclining Him, of changing His providential dispositions; it is simply a question of raising our will to the level of His will so as to will with Him what He has decided to give us, the good things useful to our sanctification and salvation. Prayer, instead of tending to bring down the Most High to us, is an elevation of our soul to God. Dionysius compares the man who prays to a sailor who, in order to land, pulls a cable fastened to a rock on the shore. This rock, which rises above the water, is motionless; to the man in the boat, however, the rock appears to be advancing; although in reality, only the boat is moving. Likewise, it seems to us that the will of God bends when our prayer is heard and granted; yet it is our will alone that ascends. We begin to will in time what God has willed for us from all eternity.

     Prayer is not in opposition to the divine government; rather it thus co-operates with that government. There are two of us who will, instead of one. When a sinful soul, for which we have long prayed, is converted, it is God who converts it, but we have been the associates of God in this work. From all eternity, He decided to produce this salutary effect in that soul only with our co-operation.

     The Church has defined, as a point of doctrine against the Pelagians and semi-Pelagians, that we cannot form a true prayer without an actual grace. We ask only for what we desire, and it is a question here of desiring what God wishes for us in the way in which He wishes it; in other words, it is a question of making our will conform to His. To do that He must draw us, and we must allow ourselves to be attracted by Him. "No man," says our Lord, "can come to Me, unless the Father who hath sent Me, draw him," and St. Paul says: "Not that we are sufficient to think anything of ourselves, as of ourselves, but our sufficiency is from God" (II Cor. 3: 5).

     A sinner is deprived of sanctifying grace and in that state is incapable of meriting; but he can pray. An actual grace suffices; it is offered to all, and only those are deprived of it who refuse it.³ At the moment this grace is granted him, a sinner should fall on his knees. If he does not resist, he will be led from grace to grace, even to conversion and salvation. With humility, confidence, and perseverance, a Christian must throughout his life ask God for the supernatural energy which he needs to obtain heaven.

     From all this we see what prayer can obtain for us. Heaven is the goal of the life of the soul. To this supreme end God subordinates whatever He is pleased to grant us, for He gives us both corporal and spiritual things only for the conquest of a blessed eternity.

     Therefore prayer can obtain for us only the things that help in the attainment of our last end, eternal life. Beyond that it can do nothing. It is too lofty to obtain for us temporal success without regard or relation to our salvation. We must not expect such a result from it.⁴

     There are two types of goods which advance us on our way to heaven: spiritual goods, which bring us there directly; and temporal goods, which can be indirectly useful for salvation in the measure in which they are subordinated to the first. Spiritual goods are grace, virtues, and merits. Prayer is all-powerful in obtaining for a sinner the grace of conversion, and for a just man the actual grace necessary for the accomplishment of his duties as a Christian. Prayer is supremely efficacious in obtaining for us a livelier faith, a more confident hope, a more ardent charity, and a greater fidelity to our vocation. The first petition in the Lord's prayer is that the name of God be sanctified, glorified by a radiant faith; that His kingdom may come is the object of our hope, and that His will may be done and accomplished with love and a more fervent charity. Prayer is all-powerful in obtaining our daily bread, not only the food of the body but that of the soul, the super-substantial bread of the Eucharist and the dispositions necessary for a good communion. It is efficacious in obtaining for us the pardon of our faults, with the interior disposition to pardon our neighbor. Likewise it is efficacious in making us triumph over temptation; "Watch and pray that you enter not into temptation," said our Lord. He has also told us that, to be delivered from evil and from the spirit of evil, we must pray; "This kind is not cast out but by prayer and fasting." ⁵

     Obviously prayer must be sincere. To ask for grace to overcome a passion without avoiding the occasions of sin, to ask for the grace of a happy death without trying to lead a better life, is not to formulate a true prayer, a true desire; it is scarcely indeed a vague wish. Prayer must also be humble, since it is the petition of a beggar. It must be confident, trusting in the mercy of God, never doubting His infinite goodness. It must be persevering to show that it springs from a profound desire of the heart.⁶ Occasionally God seems not to hear us immediately, that He may try our confidence and the strength of our good desires, as Jesus tried the confidence of the woman of Canaan by severe words that appeared to be a refusal: "I was not sent but to the sheep that are lost of the house of Israel. . . . It is not good to take the bread of the children, and to cast it to the dogs." Under divine inspiration, the woman of Canaan answered; "Yea, Lord; for the whelps also eat of the crumbs that fall from the table of their masters. Then Jesus answering, said to her: O woman, great is thy faith: be it done to thee as thou wilt. And her daughter was cured from that hour." ⁷

     If we have truly prayed with perseverance and if, in spite of our supplications, God leaves us to grapple with temptation, we should recall the example of St. Paul, who also asked repeatedly to be delivered from the sting of the flesh which tormented him. And he received this reply: "My grace is sufficient for thee." With the Apostle, believing that this struggle is profitable for us, let us not cease to ask for grace, which alone can keep us from weakening. Let us thus learn our indigence, that we are really poor and that it is fitting for a poor man to ask for aid. All his life a Christian must ask for the supernatural energy necessary to work out his salvation. The human soul cannot attain heaven unless it is propelled by God.⁸ Once it is launched on its way, it must fly. Prayer is like the beating of the wings of a little bird which has been thrown out of its nest and needs help.

     As regards temporal blessings, prayer can obtain for us everything that in some way or other will assist us on our voyage to eternity: food, health, strength, prosperity. Prayer can obtain all, on condition that we ask first and foremost for grace to love God more: "Seek ye first the kingdom of heaven, and all these things will be added unto you." ⁹ Is prayer inefficacious because we have not succeeded in some undertaking? If we have prayed truly, we have not asked for this temporal favor in itself, but only in the measure in which it would be useful to our salvation. If we have not obtained it, that is because we are to be saved without it. Our prayer is not lost; we have not obtained this temporal favor which was useless to us, but we have obtained or will obtain another more precious grace.

     Humble, trusting, persevering prayer, by which we ask for the things necessary for salvation, is infallibly efficacious by virtue of our Lord's promise.¹⁰ God indeed commands us to work for our salvation. He adds: "Without Me (without My grace) you can do nothing"; "ask, and you shall receive." He promises that if we ask this grace of Him, He will give it to us. What is more, He causes this prayer to spring up in our hearts, and inclines us to ask Him for what He wills from all eternity to grant us. If such a prayer were not infallibly efficacious, salvation would be impossible. God would be commanding us to do something impossible of realization, and contradiction would exist in Him who is supreme truth and supreme goodness. A simple soul immediately understands Christ's words: "Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you." "And which of you, if he ask his father bread, will he give him a stone? or a fish, will he for a fish give him a serpent? . . . If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father from heaven give the good Spirit to them that ask Him?" ¹¹ Prayer is the breath of the soul.

     Prayer is a more powerful force than all physical energies taken together, more powerful than money, than learning. Prayer can accomplish what all material things and all created spirits cannot do by their own natural powers. According to Pascal: "All bodies, the firmament and its stars, the earth and its kingdom, are not equal to the least of spirits. . . . By assembling all material things one could not succeed in producing even a small thought. This is impossible and belongs to another order. . . . All material bodies together and all spirits, and all that they produce are not worth the slightest movement of charity, which belongs to an infinitely more elevated order." ¹² Prayer can obtain grace for us which will make us produce this act of charity.

     Prayer thus plays an infinitely greater rôle in the world than the most amazing discovery. Who would presume to compare the influence exercised by an eminent scholar like Pasteur with that exercised through prayer by a St. Paul, a St. John, a St. Benedict, a St. Dominic, or a St. Francis?

     Each immortal soul is worth more than the entire physical world. It is like a universe, since by its two superior faculties, intellect and will, it dwells on all things, even the Infinite. Prayer assures two things to souls striving to attain to God: supernatural light, which directs them; and divine energy, which urges them on. Without prayer darkness reigns in souls; they grow cold and die like extinguished stars. It is essential to trust in this force which is of divine origin; to keep in mind whence it comes and whither it goes. It descends to us from eternity by a decree of infinite goodness, and it is to eternity that it again ascends.

II. COMMON PRAYER

     Prayer is an elevation of the soul to God, by which we will in time what God from all eternity wills that we should ask of Him, namely, the different means of salvation, especially progress in charity. "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His justice, and all these things will be added unto you." But we feel the need of a more intimate prayer in which our soul, in deeper recollection, may come into contact with the Blessed Trinity dwelling in us. This we desire that we may receive more abundantly from the interior Master that light of life which alone can make us penetrate and taste the mysteries of salvation, and reform our character by supernaturalizing it, by making it conformable to Him who invites us to seek peace of soul in humility and sweetness. This intimate prayer is mental prayer. This is the prayer that prepares for infused contemplation. We will briefly consider how to attain to this acquired prayer and how to persevere in it.

     Our Lord tells us in the Gospel: "And when ye pray, you shall not be as the hypocrites that love to stand and pray in the synagogues and corners of the streets, that they may be seen by men. . . . But thou when thou shalt pray, enter into thy chamber, and having shut the door, pray to thy Father in secret, and thy Father who seeth in secret, will repay thee."¹³ St. Teresa says simply: "Mental prayer is nothing else, in my opinion, but being on terms of friendship with God, frequently conversing in secret with Him who, we know, loves us." ¹⁴ Truly simple Christian souls are acquainted with spontaneous, intimate prayer. A certain peasant, questioned by the Curé of Ars, gave an excellent definition of it. The Curé, noticing that he remained silent, without even moving his lips, during long periods of adoration, asked him what he said to our Lord during those hours of recollection. "Oh, I don't say anything to Him," replied the peasant; "I look at Him, and He looks at me." ¹⁵ This is that interior prayer which was so often the prayer of the Christians of the catacombs and of all the saints, long before modern treatises on meditation.

     What is more simple than prayer? Its spontaneity is sometimes lost by the use of methods that are too complicated. They may be useful to beginners, but they are apt to provoke an excessive reaction in many souls. The latter, wearied by this complexity, sometimes sink into a pious reverie without any real profit. The truth, here as elsewhere, is above these two extreme errors and lies in a happy medium. A method is useful in the beginning, especially as a means of preventing distractions. But if we are to keep it from becoming an obstacle rather than a help, it must be simple; instead of breaking the spontaneity and continuity of prayer, it must simply describe the elevation of the soul toward God. It must merely indicate the essential acts which compose this movement.

     What are these acts? Evidently prayer is more than an act of the intellect like a simple study. Speculative souls, curious about the things of God, are not for that reason contemplative souls or prayerful souls. In their reflections they may experience a pleasure far surpassing that of the senses; but this pleasure often comes merely from their knowledge, and not from charity. They are moved by a love of knowledge much more than by the love of God. This pleasure sometimes increases their pride and self-love. Study and speculation do not necessarily suppose the state of grace and charity, and do not always assist in developing this state. Prayer, on the contrary, must proceed from the love of God and must end in Him. The contemplation of God is desired out of love for Him, and the contemplation of His goodness and beauty increases love. Moreover, love of God in this life, as we have seen, is more perfect than the knowledge of God. Charity is more perfect than faith, because knowledge in a way draws God down to us and, as it were, reduces Him to the measure of our ideas; whereas love draws us toward God, elevates us to Him, unites us to Him. And, as long as we are deprived of the beatific vision, it is charity especially which unites us to God and constitutes the bond of perfection. Consequently this virtue must have the first place in our soul. The soul must lift itself to God on the wings of the intellect and the will aided by grace. Therefore prayer is a movement of supernatural knowledge and love.

     What are the essential acts of prayer? That it may be the lifting up of the whole soul to God, prayer must be preceded by an act of humility and must proceed from the three theological virtues, which unite us to God, animate the virtue of religion, and obtain for us the illuminations and inspirations of the Holy Ghost. The soul flies, so to speak, like a bird by the effort of its wings, but the breath of the Holy Ghost sustains this effort and often carries the soul higher than it could go by its own virtues. We will consider these different acts of prayer. In the perfect they are often simultaneous and continuous; but, in describing them, we will enumerate them one after the other as they appear in beginners.

     Prayer should begin with an act of humility, a fundamental virtue, for every prayer should be humble. When we begin to converse with God, we should recall what we are. Of ourselves we can do nothing and less than nothing, since our sins are a disorder inferior to nothingness itself. The basic virtue of humility removes pride, which is the chief obstacle to grace. Humility does not crush us; it leads us to adoration and reminds us that in a very fragile vessel we bear an infinitely precious treasure, sanctifying grace and the Trinity dwelling in us. We do well to think of this truth at the outset so that our prayer may not proceed from vain sentimentality, but from grace itself which is infinitely superior to our emotions. We should humbly adore the Blessed Trinity who vivifies us interiorly. Adoration is one of the first acts of the virtue of religion, which is quite naturally joined to that of humility.¹⁶

     This act of humility should be followed by an act of faith, a very simple, wordless, deep, and prolonged act on some fundamental truth, such as: God, His perfections, His goodness; our Lord, the mysteries of His life, passion, and glory; or again our great duties, sin, our vocation, the duties of our state in life, our last end. These subjects should recur frequently. On feast days the liturgy suggests the subject. For this consideration of faith, some words of the Gospel or of the divine office suffice. St. John of the Cross taught his disciples to spend very little time on the representation of figures formed in the imagination, but to elevate themselves by discursive acts to the consideration of the mystery itself in the light of faith: for example, to the consideration of what constitutes the price of Christ's sufferings, His redeeming love which is of infinite value. It is not necessary to reason much, because the simple act of theological faith is superior to reasoning. It becomes more and more a simple gaze which ought to be accompanied by admiration and love. This faith, which is higher than all philosophical or theological speculation, makes us adhere infallibly and supernaturally to the mysteries which the elect contemplate in heaven. In this sense it is, as St. Paul says, "the substance of things to be hoped for." Its obscurity does not hinder it from being infallibly certain. It is the first light of our interior life. I believe what God has revealed, because He has revealed it. This Credo seems at times to become a Video. We see from afar the fountain of living water.

     This act of faith in the divine truth which is being considered gives rise naturally to an act of hope. We desire beatitude, the peace promised by God to those who follow Jesus Christ. We see clearly, however, that by our own natural strength we shall not be able to realize this supernatural ideal. Then, turning to the infinitely helpful goodness of God, we ask His grace. This is supplication, the ordinary language of hope, the formal motive of which is the divine help, Deus auxilians.¹⁷ After uttering its Credo, the soul is led spontaneously to say; desidero, sitio, spero. Having seen from afar the fountain of living water, we desire to attain it that we may drink long draughts from it: "As the hart panteth after fountains of living water, so doth my soul pant after Thee, O God." ¹⁸

     The act of hope in its turn disposes us to an act of charity; for confidence in God's help makes us reflect that He is good in Himself and not only because of His favors.¹⁹ Then spontaneously an act of charity arises in us, at first under an affective form. If in this act our feelings offer us their inferior assistance, we should accept it. It may indeed be useful, on condition that it remains subordinated; but it is not necessary, since it disappears in aridity. We are here speaking of a calm but profound affection which is surer and richer than superficial emotions. It expresses itself somewhat in this manner: My God, I no longer wish to lie by telling Thee that I love Thee. Grant that I may love Thee and please Thee in all things. Diligo.

     This affective charity should finally become effective charity. It may take this form of expression: I wish to conform my will to Thine, O good God; to break whatever renders me the slave of sin, of pride, of selfishness, of sensuality. I wish, O Lord, to participate more and more fully in the divine life Thou dost offer me, for Thou didst come that we might have life in abundance. Increase my love; Thou dost ask only to give, and I in turn wish to receive as Thou desirest me to do, in trial as well as in consolation, whether Thou dost come to me to associate me with the joyful or the sorrowful mysteries of Thy earthly life, for all lead to eternal life which will unite us forever. I resolve today to be faithful to Thee in this matter which I have so often neglected. Volo.

     In this culminating point of prayer, the knowledge of faith and the love of hope and charity tend under the divine influence to fuse into a gaze of supernatural love. As we shall see, this gaze is nascent contemplation, an eminent source of action; it is Christian contemplation dwelling on God and our Lord, as an artist's contemplation dwells on nature, and that of a mother on the face of her child.

     This loving contemplation supposes an inspiration of the Holy Ghost. His gifts, especially the gift of wisdom, which we received in baptism and which increases in us with charity, render us particularly docile to these good inspirations. Thus the Holy Ghost answers the prayer which He inspired. From time to time, He makes Himself felt by us as the soul of our soul, the life of our life; He "asketh for us with unspeakable groanings," as St. Paul says. It is He who makes us cry "Abba, Father" to our Father in heaven and, after letting us taste the beauty and riches of the mysteries of salvation, gives us a quasi-experimental knowledge of His presence and leads us to that fountain of living water which is Himself; there we may drink the light of life without the intermediary of human reasoning, even though it is always in the obscurity of faith. "Taste and see that the Lord is sweet." ²⁰ How the Gospel fulfils our aspirations, surpasses them, and elevates them!

     The knowledge of truths about the historic life of Christ which are preserved in our memory is superseded by a living, and as it were experimental, knowledge of God's action in us, of the actual influence of Christ's humanity which transmits all grace to us, and of the presence of the Blessed Trinity in our souls.²¹ Prayer thus introduces us into the intimacy of love. Nothing is better able to correct our defects of character, give us a keen desire to resemble our Lord, lead us to imitate Him in everything, and arouse the highest virtues in us. Some characters will succeed in reforming themselves only by the loving contemplation of the divine Master; for we imitate those whom we love, without being conscious of doing so.

     Prayer is "the intercourse of friendship by which the soul often converses alone with God, knowing that it is loved by Him." "My Beloved to me, and I to Him." The acts of humility, faith, hope, and charity, and the influx of the gifts of the Holy Ghost tend, in proportion as the soul grows, to fuse into a gaze of ardent love. Consequently methods useful at the beginning must increasingly give place to docility to the Holy Ghost, who breathes where He will.

     Prayer tends to become a prolonged spiritual communion: "I look at our Lord, and He looks at me." As the fathers have said, it is truly the repose of the soul in God, or the respiration of the soul which breathes in the truth and beauty of God by faith and breathes out love. What it receives from God under the form of grace, it returns to Him as adoration. This prayer, as we shall see farther on, is a disposition to contemplation. For the moment it will suffice to quote St. Teresa: "Those who are able thus to enclose themselves within the little heaven where dwells the Creator of both heaven and earth . . . may feel sure that they are travelling by an excellent way, and that they will certainly attain to drink of the water from the fountain, for they will journey far in a short time. They resemble a man who goes by sea,²² and who, if the weather is favorable,²³ gets in a few days to the end of a voyage which would have taken far longer by land. These souls may be said to have already put out to sea." ²⁴

     This method, or rather this very simple manner of making prayer, by recalling the necessity of the acts of the three theological virtues, makes it possible to unite the simplicity of prayer, as described by the ancient writers, with what is useful in the teaching of more recent masters. It is easy to make acts of faith, hope, and charity on all subjects. But if no subject attracts us, and if, on the other hand, we do not feel ourselves sufficiently united to God to avoid loss of time and to flee distractions, we will do well to follow St. Teresa's advice and meditate as slowly as possible on the Our Father. This is the greatest of prayers; composed by our Lord, it contains all possible petitions in a perfect order. We often recite it during the day, but so rapidly as not to taste all it contains. It is the true conversation of the soul. Let us say it with Christ who taught it to us. The first three petitions correspond exactly, as St. Thomas says, to the three acts of faith, hope, and charity, which we have pointed out.

     Our Father who art in heaven. Thou art also in us, for our souls are a heaven which is still in darkness.

     Hallowed be Thy name. Glorified, that is, recognized and adored (gloria est clara notitia cum laude). May Thy word be accepted by a living and unshakable faith. Credo.

     Thy kingdom come. This is the object of our hope, which rests especially on Thy infinitely helpful goodness. May this reign be more and more established in me and round about me. Sitio, spero.

     Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. May our will, like that of the saints in heaven, be conformable to Thine. This is the greatest desire of affective and effective charity, which also asks for the daily bread of the Eucharist, and the forgiveness of sins. This charity also forgives the offenses committed by our neighbor, and it makes us ask to be kept from sin in the future. It is the elevation of the soul to God; in the morning before work, at night before sleep, and as often as possible during the day, at least by some short ejaculation.

     If at times we are not table to meditate on the Our Father in this simple manner and cannot succeed in freeing ourselves from distractions, finding only aridity, it is well for us to practice affective prayer. This prayer consists simply in willing to be in that condition so as to love our Lord more than ourselves; willing to remain thus abandoned to His divine will, accepting our powerlessness and uniting ourselves to Christ in the abandonment which He experienced while on earth, in Gethsemane and on the cross, and which He still experiences in the Blessed Sacrament. This prayer, which sometimes resembles a purgatory, is not inertia; on the contrary, it is distinguished from it by the vigilance of love. It is very fruitful, since merit has its source in charity, and the end of prayer is not so much the forming of lofty considerations as the uniting of our souls to God, in Christ Jesus, in our sufferings as well as in our joys. Many intimate friends of our Lord are for many years associated in this manner with the sufferings of His heart. He makes them share in the sorrowful life which He led on earth before communicating to them His glorious life for eternity. A Christian soul is thus led to the "love of God even to the despising of self," or at least to forgetfulness of self and absorption in the glory of God and the salvation of souls.

III. HOW TO ATTAIN TO A LIFE OF PRAYER AND PERSEVERE IN IT

     We have demonstrated what common prayer, which tends to become more and more simple, should be. How can one attain to this prayer and persevere in it? First of all, we must confess that even common prayer depends chiefly on the grace of God, and consequently the soul prepares for it less by mechanical processes than by humility. God gives His grace to the humble. "Unless you be converted, and become as little children, you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven." ²⁵ It is the little ones that God is pleased to instruct interiorly; humble souls like the peasant of Ars. In addition to the cultivation of humility, we must prepare ourselves for a life of prayer by mortification and detachment from sensible things and from self. Evidently, if our minds are preoccupied with worldly affairs and our souls disturbed by too human an affection, by jealousy, rash judgment, and the memory of wrongs we have suffered from others, we shall not be able to converse with our Lord. If in the course of the day we have criticized our superiors, in the evening we cannot feel united to God.

     It is evident that all inordinate inclinations must be mortified so that charity may take the first place in our souls and rise spontaneously to God. On all occasions, in suffering or in consolation, we must form the habit of raising our hearts to God and of blessing the coming hour. Silence must reign in our souls, and our passions must be suppressed, if we are to hear the interior Master who speaks in a low voice as friend to friend. If we are habitually concerned with ourselves, how shall we taste the sweetness of the Trinity, the incarnation, the redemption, and the Eucharist?

     All this work may be called a remote preparation for prayer. It is, however, far more important than the immediate preparation and the choice of a subject. The purpose of the immediate preparation is merely to stir up the fire of charity, which ought never to be extinguished in us and which must be nourished by a continual generosity. In this way very simple and fervent souls may reduce the immediate preparation to a minimum and may often during manual labor make fervent mental prayer of habitual conformity to the will of God.

     It is not sufficient to attain to a life of prayer; we must persevere in it. By persevering effort the soul is sure to make great gain; without it, everything may be lost. Perseverance is not an easy task, for we must struggle against self, against spiritual laziness, and against the devil who inclines us to discouragement. Even among the far advanced, how many souls have turned back when deprived of the first consolations they received. St. Catherine of Genoa, who devoted herself to prayer from the age of thirteen and made great progress in it, abandoned the interior life after five years of sufferings. For five years she neglected the interior life. But one day she felt keenly the frightful emptiness of her soul, and the desire for prayer revived in her. God received her back instantly. After fourteen years of terrible penance, she was granted the assurance that she had fully satisfied the divine justice. "If I should turn back," she used to say, "I should wish someone to tear out my eyes, and even that would not seem sufficient punishment."

     Other souls, after struggling for a long time, become discouraged, says St. Teresa, when they are within a few steps of the fountain of living water. They fall back and, since without prayer they no longer have the strength to carry the cross, they lapse into a superficial life in which others might perhaps be saved, but in which they run the risk of being lost because their powers will carry them to excesses. The measureless love of God permitted and even asked excess of them; but this same excess, if indulged outside of God, would be their ruin. For certain souls of a naturally lofty turn, mediocrity is impossible; either they give themselves wholly to God, or wholly to themselves in opposition to God. They wish to enjoy their ego and their abilities and, as a result, run the risk of setting up self instead of God as their absolute end. The angels can know only ardent charity or unpardonable mortal sin. Venial sin, according to St. Thomas, is impossible for them because "from their very nature they can have no inordinateness in respect of the means, unless at the same time they have an inordinateness in respect of the end, and this is a mortal sin." ²⁶ Angels or devils, very holy or very wicked, for them there is no other alternative. Certain souls have something angelic about them; for them it is very dangerous not to persevere in prayer, or at least to be at prayer only bodily without any act of true love. This amounts to the abandonment of the interior life, perhaps ruin.

     The saints tell us that, if we are to persevere, we must, first of all, hope in our Lord who calls all devout souls to the living waters of prayer. On this point we will consider particularly the testimony of St. Teresa.²⁷ In the second place, we must humbly allow ourselves to be led along the road which our Lord has chosen for us.

     1) We must hope, with trust in our guide. We fail in this confidence when, after the first aridity, we say that prayer is not for us. We might just as well say with the Jansenists that frequent communion is not for us, but only for a few great saints. Our Lord calls all souls to this intercourse of friendship with Him. As He says, He is the good shepherd who leads His sheep to the eternal pastures that they may feed on every word of God. In the midst of these pastures is the fountain of living waters which Jesus spoke of to the Samaritan woman, who was, nevertheless, a sinner; "If thou didst know the gift of God, and who He is that saith to thee, Give Me to drink, thou perhaps wouldst have asked of Him, and He would have given thee living water. . . . He that shall drink of the water that I will give him, shall not thirst forever. But the water that I will give him, shall become in him a fountain of water springing up into life everlasting." ²⁸ At Jerusalem on a certain festival day, Jesus stood in the Temple and cried out to all: "If any man thirst, let him come to Me, and drink. He that believeth in Me, as the Scripture saith, Out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water." ²⁹ Later on our Lord explains that this fountain of living water is the Holy Ghost, the Comforter, whom He will send to us and who will make us penetrate and taste the intimate meaning of the gospel.

     According to St. Paul, the Holy Ghost dwells in us by charity. Therefore He is in every soul in the state of grace. He dwells in the soul not to remain idle, but rather to make Himself its interior master by His seven gifts, which develop in proportion as charity grows in the soul. The growth of charity should continue until death, without any assigned limit. Our failure better to understand the holy inspirations of the interior Master is probably due to the fact that we listen to ourselves, that we are not humble enough and desirous of the reign of God in our souls.

2) The second element necessary for perseverance in prayer is that we allow ourselves to be led by the road that our Lord has chosen for us. The great highway is the road of humility and conformity to the divine will. All should pray as the publican did. Along this road, however, are stony spots and level stretches, some sections covered with grass, others burned by the sun, and still others shady. The good Shepherd leads His sheep as He judges best: some by the way of parables, others by that of reasoning, before bringing them to simple intuition in the obscurity of faith. He leaves some souls for a long time in difficult spots for the purpose of inuring them to hardships. Our Lord raises Marys to contemplation sooner than He does Marthas. The former find in contemplation interior sufferings unknown to the latter; but these, if they are faithful, will reach the living waters and will quench their thirst according to their desires.

     We will now consider what these living waters are, because they are the symbol of contemplation.

ARTICLE II

Meaning of "Contemplation," "Ordinary," "Extraordinary"

I. SO-CALLED ACQUIRED CONTEMPLATION AND INFUSED CONTEMPLATION

     Contemplation in general, such as may exist in a non-Christian philosopher, for example, in Plato or Aristotle, is a simple, intellectual view of the truth, superior to reasoning and accompanied by admiration, simplex intuitus veritatis, as St. Thomas says.¹ An example of this contemplation is the admiring knowledge of that supreme truth of philosophy, namely, that at the summit of all composite and changeable beings there exists absolutely simple and immutable being itself, the principle and end of all things. It has not received existence; it is of itself existence, truth, wisdom, goodness, love, just as, in the physical order, light of itself is light and has no need to be illumined; just as heat of itself is heat. Reason by its own strength, with the natural help of God, may rise to this contemplation.

     The contemplation of the faithful is, on the contrary, founded on divine revelation received through faith. Although faith is an infused gift of God received at baptism, several theologians admit in the faithful a so-called "acquired" contemplation. They generally define it as a simple and loving knowledge of God and of His works which is the fruit of our personal activity aided by grace. They usually agree that this so-called "acquired" contemplation exists in a theologian at the end of his research, in the synthetic view which he reaches; or in a preacher who sees his entire sermon in one thought, and in the faithful who listen attentively to this sermon, grasp its order, admire its unity and, as a result, taste the great truth of faith which they see in its radiation.

     In these cases we have a certain contemplation which is, with the help of grace, the fruit of human activity, of our reflection, or of the meditation of the author we are reading or the preacher we are listening to. Grace and the theological virtues certainly enter in. Even the gifts of the Holy Ghost exercise a latent influence. But if well ordered human activity were lacking, the soul would not reach this contemplation, which is therefore called "acquired." A poorly prepared sermon, lacking order, vigor, or unction, will produce the contrary effect and will weary most of the hearers. In an order quite superior to philosophical speculation, many of the faithful can by reading and meditation experience the deep meaning of these words of God: "I am who am . . . God is a spirit, and they that adore Him, must adore Him in spirit and in truth. . . . God is charity: and he that abideth in charity, abideth in God, and God in him."

     Since the loving contemplation of God is not the fruit of human activity aided by grace, it cannot be called acquired, but rather must be called infused. For example, in a poorly arranged, lifeless sermon, that merely tires most of the listeners, the preacher may, however, quote an expression of our Lord which profoundly seizes a soul, captivates it, and absorbs it for an hour.² That is an example of contemplation which is not the fruit of the preacher's human activity or of personal reflection; it springs from a manifest divine inspiration. It is called infused. Why? Not only because it springs from infused virtues; this was the case also with so-called "acquired" contemplation. Nor is it called "infused" in this sense, that the very act of contemplation is infused or directly produced by God alone in us; it would then no longer be a vital, free, and meritorious act. It is called infused and also passive in this sense, that it is not in our power to produce this act at will, like an ordinary act of faith. We can only receive the divine inspiration with docility, and dispose ourselves to it by pious recollection. "This infused or passive contemplation is in us without our deliberation, though not indeed without our consent." ³

     This infused contemplation is also called supernatural because it is so by its very nature (reduplicative ut sic) not only as regards the substance of the act, like the act of infused faith, but as regards the mode, which in this case is the superhuman mode of the gifts of the Holy Ghost, a mode no longer latent, but manifest. This essentially infused contemplation begins with what St. Teresa calls the prayer of passive recollection,⁴ and what St. John of the Cross calls the passive night of the senses; in other words, at the beginning of the mystical life, strictly so called. Whence it follows that essentially mystical contemplation is that which is manifestly passive, in the sense we have indicated,⁵ if it lasts and becomes frequent as in the mystical state.

     All we have just said about the meaning of the words "acquired contemplation" and "infused contemplation" is rather generally accepted. But the expression "acquired contemplation" is not found in the writings of the great masters. According to them contemplation, properly so called, is infused, and they simply call it contemplation. St. John of the Cross says: "Contemplation is a science of love; it is an infused, loving knowledge of God." ⁶ St. Teresa,⁷ St. Francis de Sales,⁸ and St. Jane de Chantal hold the same opinion.

     Canon Saudreau ⁹ observes that Thomas of Jesus (1564–1627), in his book De contemplatione divina,¹⁰ was the first Carmelite to speak of an acquired contemplation as a degree of prayer intermediate between affective meditation and infused contemplation. He adds: "The same author, in the prologue of his first work,¹¹ divided prayer into two classes: acquired prayer (meditation) and infused prayer (contemplation). This division is correct and entirely conformable to the doctrine of St. Teresa. This prologue, found in the editions of 1610, 1613, 1616, and 1623, was suppressed in the later editions of 1665 and 1725, undoubtedly because the doctrine exposed therein does not conform to that which recognizes a non-mystical contemplation."

     At the beginning of the seventeenth century, glosses were introduced into the works of St. John of the Cross to defend them against unjust charges of illuminism. These glosses often attenuated the meaning of the terms.¹² Indeed certain authors maintained that the saint had treated only of acquired contemplation, which is inferior to the infused contemplation spoken of by St. Teresa. The meaning of these terms was not clearly fixed at this time.¹³ Some even claimed that acquired contemplation is the summit or the term of the normal development of the interior life, and that infused contemplation is absolutely extraordinary, like graces gratis datae, and that consequently it could not be desired without presumption. This was in particular the teaching of Anthony of the Annunciation, C.D.; ¹⁴ but on this point he was not followed by the Carmelite theologians, as may be clearly seen from what another well-known Discalced Carmelite, Joseph of the Holy Ghost,¹⁵ says of him.

     These difficulties and divergences explain the reservations of certain authors. In their eagerness to preserve St. Teresa's teaching, they are reluctant to admit a degree of prayer which she probably did not mention. And in fact we would be creating a degree of prayer not referred to by St. Teresa and would be opposing her explicit teaching, if by acquired contemplation we meant a prayer distinct from simplified affective prayer, a prayer in which the intelligence would be completely absorbed by its object, and which the soul would attain by the suppression of all rational activity. As a matter of fact, the saint repeatedly opposes the total suppression of reasoning and thought as long as one has not received infused contemplation.¹⁶

     Such is not, however, the Carmelite theologians' conception of acquired contemplation. Their detailed descriptions of it show that the prayer they have in mind corresponds to what St. Teresa in The Way of Perfection (chap. 28) calls "the (acquired) prayer of recollection," a prayer in which intellectual activity is simplified, but not suppressed. These theologians call this prayer contemplation because the act of simple intellectual intuition is frequent and predominant in it, and meditation, on the other hand, is reduced. This conception removes the substance of the difficulty, and the question becomes one of terminology.

     As a rule the Carmelite theologians who admit the existence of acquired contemplation have been right in refusing to see in it the normal term of spiritual progress on this earth. According to them, in generous souls truly faithful to the Holy Ghost, it is a proximate disposition to receive infused contemplation normally.¹⁷ Different opinions have been brought forward as to the time when infused contemplation begins; certain authors link quiet, and even spiritual intoxication, with acquired contemplation. But anyone who reads carefully the third chapter of the fourth mansion,¹⁸ will see that contemplation begins with the prayer of supernatural recollection, which we cannot obtain for ourselves by our own activity aided by grace and which almost always precedes the supernatural prayer of quiet. This supernatural recollection is quite different from the acquired prayer of recollection, which is the fruit of our activity, and which St. Teresa speaks of.¹⁹ It is altogether untenable to say that acquired contemplation is that in which we can place ourselves by our own industry, and to include in it supernatural recollection, quiet, spiritual intoxication, and mystical sleep. And if the expression "acquired contemplation" is applied to what St. Teresa, when treating of acquired prayer, calls "the prayer of recollection," ²⁰ her doctrine is kept without preserving her terms; because in her writings, as we shall see later on, the word "contemplation" designates infused contemplation.

     It would be difficult to improve on St. Teresa's description of the essential difference separating the last acquired prayer from the first infused prayer, and the passage from one to the other. Speaking of "the (acquired) prayer of recollection," which has often since been called "affective prayer," she says: "This kind of prayer has many advantages. It is called 'recollection,' because by its means the soul collects together all the faculties and enters within itself to be with God.²¹ The divine Master thus comes more speedily than He otherwise would to teach it and to grant it the prayer of quiet. . . . Those who are able thus to enclose themselves within the little heaven of their souls where dwells the Creator of both heaven and earth, and who can accustom themselves not to look at anything nor to remain in any place which would preoccupy their exterior senses, may feel sure that they are travelling by an excellent way and that they will certainly attain to drink of the water from the fountain,²² for they will journey far in a short time. They resemble a man who goes by sea and who, if the weather is favorable,²³ gets in a few days to the end of a voyage which would have taken far longer by land.²⁴ These souls may be said to have already put out to sea, and though they have not quite lost sight of terra firma, still they do their best to get away from it by collecting their faculties." ²⁵

     In the following chapter St. Teresa states clearly the nature of this last acquired prayer and shows in it a disposition to receive infused contemplation. She says: "I advise whoever wishes to acquire this habit (which, as I said, we have the power to gain) not to grow tired of persevering in trying gradually to obtain the mastery over herself. . . . I know that, with His help, if you practise it for a year, or perhaps for only six months, you will gain it. Think what a short time that is for so great an advantage as laying this firm foundation, so that if our Lord wishes to raise you to a high degree of prayer, He will find you prepared for it, since you keep close to Him. May His Majesty never allow us to withdraw from His presence. Amen." Speaking of this acquired prayer of recollection, she says: "You must understand that this is not a supernatural state, but something which, with the grace of God, we can desire and obtain for ourselves.²⁶ This 'grace' is always implied whenever I say, in this book, that we are able to do anything, for without it we can do nothing—nothing—nor could we, by any strength of our own, think a single good thought. This is not what is called silence of the powers; it is a recollection within the soul itself." ²⁷

     On the contrary, the supernatural recollection described in The Interior Castle,²⁸ is not in Our power with the help of God, and does not depend on our will. St. Teresa says it is a prayer which almost always precedes the supernatural prayer of quiet: "This is a recollection which also seems supernatural to me. It neither consists in placing oneself in a dark corner nor in closing one's eyes; it in no way depends on exterior things. And yet, without wishing to do so, one closes one's eyes and desires solitude. Then the palace of prayer of which I have just spoken is built, so it seems to me, but without the labor of human art. . . . The King, who holds His court within it, seeing their good will, out of His great mercy is kind enough to recall them to Him (the senses and the powers). Like a good Shepherd, He makes them hear His voice, and He plays so sweetly on His pipe, that they scarcely hear it. He invites them to desist from their wanderings and return to their former dwelling. This piping of the Shepherd has such power over them, that forsaking the exterior things which captivated them, they re-enter the castle. I think I never put this matter so clearly before.

     "When God bestows this grace, it helps greatly to seek God in oneself. . . . But do not fancy that this recollection can be obtained by the work of the understanding, by forcing yourself to think of God dwelling within you, or by that of the imagination by picturing Him as present in your soul. This is a good practice and a very excellent kind of meditation because it is founded on the indisputable truth that God dwells within us. It is not, however, the prayer of recollection, for by the divine assistance everyone can practice it. What I mean is quite a different thing. Sometimes even before they have begun to think of God, the powers of the soul find themselves within the castle. . . . Here this act does not depend on our will; it takes place only when God sees fit to give us this grace. In my opinion His Majesty only bestows this favor on those who have renounced the world. . . . He thus specially calls them to devote themselves to spiritual things. Moreover, I am convinced that if they allow Him power to act freely, He will bestow still greater graces on those whom He thus evidently calls to a higher life." The saint adds that if God has not yet granted this grace, she cannot well understand "how we are to stop thinking, without doing ourselves more harm than good." ²⁹

     Supernatural recollection is manifestly a mystical prayer, the beginning of infused contemplation. It would be difficult to show more definitely how it differs from the acquired prayer of recollection, often called simplified affective prayer. St. Teresa also clearly indicates how the transition is made from one to the other.³⁰

     This transition is also described by Bossuet, but he does not show so plainly the distinction between the last acquired prayer and the first infused prayer.³¹

     If the phrase "acquired contemplation" is applied to the last of the acquired prayers, called by St. Teresa "the prayer of recollection," ³² the saint's doctrine is kept, but not her terms; for, like all great mystics, by the word "contemplation" she means infused contemplation. We can easily become convinced of this by reading the sections of her works where she begins to use this word.³³ Evidently also St. John of the Cross is speaking of infused contemplation in The Dark Night of the Soul³⁴ when he describes God's action and our passivity. The contemplation he describes in his earlier work, The Ascent of Mount Carmel, is not specifically different. In this study he sets forth the part we can take in it and shows that, though we cannot procure infused contemplation by our efforts, we can place obstacles in its way, or, on the contrary, dispose ourselves for it and favor its exercise. The Discalced Carmelite, Nicholas of Jesus Mary,³⁵ was quite right in his opinion that, beginning with Part I, Bk. II, chapter 13, of The Ascent of Mount Carmel, infused contemplation is clearly meant.³⁶ St. Francis de Sales,³⁷ the Carmelites, John of Jesus Mary, CD.,³⁸ and Michael de la Fuente ³⁹ also place infused contemplation immediately after meditation, without mentioning acquired contemplation as a special degree of prayer.

     Spiritual writers of the Middle Ages expressed the same teaching. We find in particular that St. Bonaventure,⁴⁰ Tauler, and Louis de Blois⁴¹ mean infused contemplation by the words contemplatio divina, or quite simply contemplatio. Moreover, authors on all sides who are anxious to return to traditional terminology think that contemplation, properly so called, is infused.⁴²

     If by the expression "acquired contemplation" something other than simplified affective prayer, called by St. Teresa the "(acquired) prayer of recollection," ⁴³ is meant, and if the supernatural prayers that are beyond our power (which she describes in the fourth and fifth mansions) are classed in this group, then violence is offered to her words and opposition to the authorities we have just quoted. Moreover, numerous difficulties, the chief of which we shall point out, would be encountered.

     l) It is explicable that there may be a certain acquired contemplation at the end of a captivating study or reading when the soul is suspended in admiration of the divine truths which it discovers or which are proposed to it. Thus the philosopher and the theologian have it as the fruit of their study. It may also exist in a simple Christian while he is listening to a good sermon, or at the end of meditation. During the psalmody or during mass and the liturgical chant it may exist in souls that are accustomed to meditation on divine things but that have not yet received the grace of infused contemplation. The variety of the divine office favors a certain activity of the superior and inferior faculties, inclining us to taste the word of God. But in the prayer of the simple presence of God, where the object known is almost always the same, if the soul is really captivated in its superior faculties, this state is no longer the fruit of human activity, for one is not captivated at will. It is the result of a special grace of light and attraction which is the germ of infused contemplation.

     2) It may be said that the soul remains captivated by the intensity of its love, without anything new in the consideration of the object attracting it. But this intense love normally supposes a lively and penetrating knowledge of the goodness of God and is a proximate and immediate disposition to receive the grace of infused contemplation. This consideration leads Father Arintero to think that so-called acquired contemplation is rare in prayer, or at least that it lasts but a short time in generous souls; for when the soul reaches this stage, God, finding it disposed to receive the action of the Holy Ghost, gives it a beginning of infused contemplation.⁴⁴

     3) Acquired contemplation excludes distractions, or ceases when they begin. This is what happens to a philosopher or theologian. As the great mystical writers commonly teach, initial contemplation is often accompanied by distractions of the imagination, yet it lasts in spite of these ramblings. St. Teresa explains this at length when she speaks of quiet.⁴⁵ This initial contemplation is not, therefore, the fruit of the activity of our intellect directing the imagination, but the effect of a special inspiration of the Holy Ghost fixing our mind in spite of the movement of the inferior faculties.

     4) Those who admit acquired contemplation as a special state of prayer between simplified affective prayer and infused contemplation say there is in acquired contemplation an influence of the gifts of the Holy Ghost, latent as yet, but more marked than in discursive meditation. It seems difficult to distinguish this influence from that which produces initial infused contemplation, or incompletely passive prayer, called by St. Teresa ⁴⁶ supernatural recollection and quiet. Since the latter is not in our power, it cannot be called acquired.

     5) Finally, St. Teresa observes with great insistence in the same passage, when speaking of supernatural recollection, which is the beginning of infused contemplation, that as long as anyone has not received this gift, he must "be careful not to check the movement of the mind . . . and to remain there like a dolt." ⁴⁷ If she admitted acquired contemplation as an intermediate state of prayer between simplified affective meditation ⁴⁸ and initial infused contemplation, she would grant that the soul can "stop the deliberation of the mind" before receiving "supernatural" or passive "recollection." If anyone were to do this, in St. Teresa's opinion he would be guilty of thrusting himself into the mystical ways, as do the quietists, who in reality remain there "like dolts."

     To acquired contemplation, which the quietists continually recommended to everybody, they applied what the saints say about infused contemplation. This mistake was one of their principal errors. They presumptuously thrust themselves into the mystical or passive ways and they "remained there like dolts," to use St. Teresa's expression.⁴⁹ In the twenty-third proposition of Molinos, which has been condemned, it is evident that he applied the term contemplatio acquisita to that which he continually recommended and which, according to his teaching, precedes infused contemplation, which he considered a very special favor. At any rate, he simulated the passive state before the hour willed by God.

     As Father Dudon, S.J., has justly observed,⁵⁰ Molinos believed that St. John of the Cross, in The Ascent of Mount Carmel, spoke only of acquired contemplation. From this contemplation, wrongly termed acquired, he took the rule of passivity and made from it an acquired passivity also. By applying this passivity to a prayer which in reality was ascetical, he introduced it into all of asceticism, which thereafter was, so to speak, suppressed.

     In consideration of all these reasons, we do not believe that so-called acquired contemplation is a special state of prayer, distinct from simplified affective prayer, called by St. Teresa "the (acquired) prayer of recollection." ⁵¹ What the great mystics understand by "contemplation" is undoubtedly infused contemplation.

II. THE ORDINARY AND THE EXTRAORDINARY IN THE SUPERNATURAL LIFE

     In order to learn whether infused or characteristically mystical contemplation is extraordinary or whether it is ordinarily granted to the perfect, we must clearly define these terms.⁵²

     In the supernatural life whatever is outside the normal way of sanctity and not at all necessary to attain it, is, strictly speaking, essentially, or by its nature, extraordinary.⁵³ For example, graces gratis datae, such as the gift of prophecy, of tongues, of miracles, the gift of expressing the loftiest mysteries of religion (sermo sapientiae),⁵⁴ are in no way necessary for personal holiness. They are granted primarily for the good of others, although they may secondarily help in the sanctification of him who receives them, if he uses them with charity. The beatific vision, received in a transitory manner before death, as St. Paul seems to have received it (according to the opinion of St. Augustine and St. Thomas), is with even greater reason essentially extraordinary. A miraculous conversion, which without any previous preparation instantly purifies the soul and introduces it immediately into the mystical life, such as the conversion of St. Paul, is also essentially extraordinary. Likewise the grace of the transforming union or of the spiritual marriage granted from childhood, that is, at the age of six or seven, to certain saints, is manifestly extraordinary. Less elevated mystical graces bestowed on souls still very imperfect, before they have the dispositions ordinarily required,⁵⁵ are extraordinary in a lesser degree.

     On the contrary, in the supernatural life whatever belongs to the normal way of sanctity and in the majority of cases is absolutely or morally necessary to attain it, is essentially ordinary.⁵⁶ In other words, whatever in the supernatural life is accomplished in accordance with even the superior laws of its full development, is ordinary in itself, though these laws are infinitely more elevated than those of our nature. This is why the beatific vision after death, although entirely supernatural, is not an extraordinary gift; it is the normal crowning of the life of grace, such as God has gratuitously willed it for us all. But we are not to conclude that the majority of men will reach this very high end. "Many are called, but few are chosen." The elect in heaven will evidently be an élite, as the name indicates, but an élite chosen from men of all classes, to which we should all eagerly desire to belong.⁵⁷

     Likewise here on earth, the summit in the normal development of the life of grace, no matter how elevated, should not be called essentially extraordinary (per se), although it may be rare or extraordinary in fact, like the perfect generosity which it supposes. This summit is called sanctity, even lofty sanctity, which implies heroic virtues. Before reaching it, we can have a certain perfection, but it is not yet the full perfection to which the life of grace is essentially ordained. Just as a distinction is made between beginners, proficients, and the perfect, so among the latter a distinction ⁵⁸ must be drawn between those who have just entered upon the unitive way, those who are more advanced in it, and finally those who have reached the plenitude of perfection, lofty sanctity, which alone deserves to be called the culminating point in the development of the life of grace.

     It follows, then, that whatever in the majority of cases is either absolutely or morally necessary to attain this summit is not essentially extraordinary. On the contrary, these things belong to and make up the plenitude of the normal order willed by God. In studying this point, we must take care not to confound what is eminently useful for reaching sanctity in the majority of cases with what is observed in the majority of pious souls, with what is common among them; for many of them are still far from the goal. Consequently, without admitting that the mystical prayers are essentially extraordinary, we can distinguish them from the common forms of prayer, because the former suppose in fact an eminent or superior grace.⁵⁹

     The passive purifications of the senses and of the spirit (a mystical state) and infused contemplation, even in its highest degree, which is realized in the transforming union, are, as St. John of the Cross teaches,⁶⁰ generally necessary to the perfect purification and sanctification of the soul. Therefore they should not be called essentially extraordinary, although in fact they may be quite rare because of the common mediocrity of souls. These passive purifications seem extraordinary to us because they are so painful and take our nature by surprise; they are an anticipated purgatory. Very generous souls ought normally to suffer their purgatory on earth while meriting, rather than after death without meriting. If we go to purgatory after death, it will be our own fault, it will be because we have neglected graces that were granted us or offered us during life. Purgatory after death, frequent though it may be, is not according to the order arranged by God for the full development of the supernatural life, since immediately after death it is radical to the order established by Him that the soul should possess God by the beatific vision. Hence the precise reason why the soul suffers so greatly in purgatory is because it does not see God. We will consider, by a study of the writings of the saints, what in their opinion is the normal way to holiness here on earth.

ARTICLE III

Description of Infused Contemplation and its Degrees According to St. Teresa

     We might have borrowed the description of mystical contemplation and its degrees from authors other than St. Teresa.¹ We have chosen St. Teresa because she clarifies several points, because her description has become classical, and also because those who consider infused or mystical contemplation an essentially extraordinary favor declare that they base their doctrine on her teaching.

     When we read The Life of St. Teresa, written by herself, or her Interior Castle, we seem at first to come into contact with an inaccessible spiritual world, quite above what every interior soul may legitimately desire. True, she often deals with extraordinary phenomena: visions, which make us anticipate even here on earth the life of heaven, and revelations or interior words, which the majority of devout souls have never heard. These extraordinary phenomena, which strike us at the first reading, may, if we give our attention entirely to them, hide from us instead of manifesting to us what is most profound and elevated in her life; in other words, the full development in her of the Christian virtues that we ought all to have, but that in many souls remain mean, colorless, and without vigor.

     But when St. Teresa's work is read in an effort to see in it the perfect development of that spiritual organism which exists in every just soul, we cannot fail to recognize that she clearly shows how the grace of the virtues and the gifts received at baptism ought to develop when obstacles have been removed. When read with this intention, the more or less extraordinary exterior manifestations of the supernatural life fade into the background.

     We do not sufficiently grasp the value of the treasure that every true Christian bears in a fragile vase. Our human eyes see only the vase. We forget that sanctifying grace, which is in us, is the beginning of eternal life, semen gloriae, inchoatio vitae aeternae.² We forget practically that it is a real and formal participation in the intimate life of God, and that some day it absolutely must either die forever in us or flower into glory by making us see God as He sees Himself, and love God as He loves Himself. Such is our destiny; for each of us only one inevitable alternative exists—eternal life or eternal death. Therein lies our wealth and our nobility. By grace we are of God, born of God,³ and even here on earth our supernatural life is basically the same as that of heaven, just as the vegetable life hidden in the acorn is the same as that of the vigorous oak that springs from it; as the intellectual life slumbering in a child is the same as that of an adult who has reached the full development of reason.

     Sanctifying grace deifies our souls. To elevate our faculties, it brings forth in them the supernatural virtues, especially the theological virtues, faith, hope, and charity, the last of which must endure forever. This entirely supernatural life is incomparably superior to a miracle perceived by the senses, which is only a sign.⁴ It is also superior to the natural life of created and creatable angels, since it is a participation in the very life of God.⁵ With this supernatural treasure which divinizes all our energies, we receive the Author of grace, the Holy Ghost who was sent to the Apostles on Pentecost, and who was given to us by confirmation with the seven gifts, which dispose us to receive His divine inspirations. Christ addressed us all when He said: "The Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in My name, He will teach you all things, and bring all things to your mind, whatsoever I shall have said to you . . . He will teach you all truth." ⁶ "His unction," says St. John, "teacheth you of all things." ⁷

     This supernatural life remains anemic and weak and is without radiance in many Christians because they are too absorbed by worldly things. Instead of living with God, their divine and interior Guest, their Father and Friend, who is closer to them than they are to themselves, they scarcely ever raise their minds and hearts to Him. In the souls of the saints, on the contrary, this supernatural life appears in all its vigor, and it is this life especially which we should consider in them more than the extraordinary, miraculous, and inimitable gifts by which their sanctity is outwardly manifested.

     We will therefore consider union with God in the souls of the saints, which is the basis of their life; in what this union consists; and what are its degrees. To do this, we will follow St. Teresa step by step, using her own words; for in our opinion the best commentary consists in bringing together her various writings on one subject, and in allowing these texts to throw light on one another.

I. THE MYSTICAL STATE IN GENERAL: PREPARATION; GENERAL CALL AND INDIVIDUAL CALL; NATURE OF THE MYSTICAL STATE

     1) St. Teresa shows that at first the soul, which seeks to unite itself to God present in it, must ordinarily raise itself above sensible things by its own efforts aided by grace, by making frequently acts of humility, faith, hope, and charity, which are suggested to it by the Our Father.⁸ To penetrate revealed truths, it meditates on them, making use of a book if necessary; it brings them together and from them draws practical consequences which lead it to turn more and more fully toward God. This is the human work of the understanding which rather rapidly becomes simplified, like reading in the case of a child who no longer needs to spell. Meditation thus becomes a very simple, affective prayer, an active recollection which is a preparation or disposition to receive the grace of contemplation.⁹ The soul has so far succeeded in drinking only "the water of sensible devotion which . . . has run its course over the earth and always contains a certain amount of mud."¹⁰ The divine truth it attains is still mingled with human considerations.

     2) There is, however, a fountain of living water of which our Lord spoke to the Samaritan woman: great indeed are "the benefits of drinking of this fountain of living water." ¹¹ This is the figure of contemplation, which is given to us by the Holy Ghost. Whatever the obstacles to be found on the road leading to this source, we must "be courageous and not grow weary. . . . Remember, our Lord invited 'Any man.'¹² He is truth itself; His word cannot be doubted. If all had not been included He would not have addressed everybody, nor would He have said: 'I will give you to drink.' He might have said: 'Let all men come, for they will lose nothing by it, and I will give to drink to those I think fit for it.' But as He said, unconditionally: If any man thirst, let him come to Me,' I feel sure that, unless they stop halfway, none will fail to drink of this living water. May our Lord, who has promised to grant it us, give us grace to seek it as we ought, for His own sake." ¹³ This is the general and distant call; as yet it is not the individual and proximate call.¹⁴ In other words, if we are humble, generous, and faithful in the practice of the virtues and of common prayer, a time will come when the Holy Ghost, dwelling in us to enlighten and sanctify us, will take over more fully the direction of our life and ask us to be entirely docile to His divine inspirations. Then will begin for us a more intimate union with God, called by St. Teresa supernatural prayer ¹⁵ and quite generally today the "mystical state."

     3) What essentially characterizes this mystical life is an infused and loving knowledge of God; in other words, it is an infused light and an infused love coming to us from the Holy Ghost and from His gifts in order to make us grow in charity.¹⁶ In certain souls it is love which dominates, in others light. Since we love only what we know, and since we cannot love ardently what we know but poorly, every soul ought to be very enlightened if it is to be inflamed with love. In this state the soul is no longer inclined to meditate by itself, to reason on the great truths of faith so as to arouse itself to acts of love of God. It receives "a supernatural recollection" which it could never acquire by its own efforts and "which does not depend on our will." ¹⁷ It is no longer the soul recollecting itself, it is God who recollects it and draws it toward the inner sanctuary. This is the beginning of contemplation, properly so called; it is infused since we cannot procure it for ourselves by our activity aided by grace. St. Teresa, in opposition to the quietists, says that, if we have not as yet received this gift, we should be careful not "to stop the movement of our thoughts . . . and to remain there like blockheads." ¹⁸ This recollection and the quiet which follow are "a supernatural state to which no effort of our own can raise us." ¹⁹ "As for disposing oneself to it, that can be done, and that is without doubt an important point." ²⁰ Psalmody, for instance, disposes the soul to contemplative prayer and also makes the soul desire it.

     During this passive recollection, "when our Lord suspends the understanding and makes it cease from its acts, He puts before it that which astonishes and occupies it: so that, without making any reflections, it shall comprehend in a moment more than we could comprehend in many years with all the efforts in the world." ²¹ In contemplation "the soul understands that the divine Master is teaching it without the sound of words." ²² "It was not by way of vision; I believe it was what is called mystical theology. . . . The understanding stands as if amazed at the greatness of the things it understands; for God wills it to understand that it understands nothing whatever of that which His Majesty places before it." ²³ "The presence of God is frequently felt, particularly by those who have attained to the prayer of union and of quiet, when we seem, at the very commencement of our prayer, to find Him with whom we would converse, and when we seem to feel that He hears us by the effects and the spiritual impressions of great love and faith of which we are then conscious, as well as by the good resolutions, accompanied by sweetness, which we then make. This is a great grace from God; and let him to whom He has given it esteem it much, because it is a very high degree of prayer; but it is not vision. God is understood to be present there by the effects.²⁴ He works in the soul: that is the way His Majesty makes His presence felt." ²⁵

     Under this infused light, "the soul is inflamed with love without comprehending how it loves." ²⁶ "This very sweet love of our God enters our soul with an extreme gentleness; it fills it with pleasure and joy ²⁷ without its being able to understand how or where this good was introduced into it." ²⁸ It is therefore clearly an infused love like the light it supposes; it is, as the Thomists say, the fruit of an operating grace by which the soul is vitally and freely moved by God without deliberate movement on its own part.²⁹ "When God will make you drink this water (of contemplation) . . . you will understand that the true love of God, when it is in its vigor, that is to say entirely free from earthly things and soaring above them, is master of all the elements and of the world itself." ³⁰"The prayer of quiet is a little spark of the true love of Himself, which our Lord begins to enkindle in the soul," ³¹ and this fire "purifies the soul of the dross and the wretchedness into which its faults have plunged it." ³² This infused knowledge and love, which are the superior exercise of the theological virtues under the influence of the Holy Ghost, constitute the essential foundations of the mystical life. The Holy Ghost alone can give us this knowledge and love of God, which have a superhuman mode exceeding our personal efforts aided by grace.³³ St. John of the Cross expresses the same doctrine when he says: "Contemplation is a science of love, an infused and loving knowledge of God." ³⁴ "This obscure contemplation . . . is mystical theology which the doctors call secret wisdom, communicated according to the doctrine of St. Thomas, by the infusion of love into the soul.³⁵ This communication is made secretly . . . our faculties are incapable of acquiring it; it is the Holy Ghost who pours it into the soul." ³⁶ Under its influence the three theological virtues are exercised in the highest degree.³⁷ If this infused and loving contemplation lasts a certain time, it is called a state of prayer; a passive state, or at least one that is more passive than active, in this sense that we cannot produce it, but only dispose ourselves for it.

II. THE DEGREES OF THE MYSTICAL STATE; FROM THE FOURTH TO THE SEVENTH MANSIONS

     In this section we will consider particularly the growing intensity of charity, of living faith, and of the corresponding gifts in the mystical state. St. Thomas studied this intensity from an abstract and theoretical point of view; ³⁸ St. Teresa described it from experience and in its loftiest forms. To show this growing intensity of the mystical state, St. Teresa insists on its progressive extension to the different faculties of the soul, which are gradually suspended or captivated by God. First of all, the will is seized arid held, then the intellect and the imagination; finally in ecstasy, the exercise of the exterior senses is suspended. St. Teresa knows, however, that the suspension of the imagination and of the senses is only a concomitant and accidental phenomenon,³⁹ sign of a greater intensity of knowledge and love of God, since it generally ceases in the most perfect mystical state, the transforming union.⁴⁰ The mystical state, complete in regard to its extension, is not therefore necessarily the most intense or the most elevated.⁴¹ St. Teresa does not overlook this fact; but this extension, which is at first progressive, then restrained and rather easy to determine and describe, may give some light on the growing elevation of the mystical state, if it is joined to another sign which is more profound, one on which St. John of the Cross strongly insisted. This more profound sign is found, first of all, in the passive purification of the senses, then in that of the spirit, both of which denote progress in the intensity of the knowledge and love of God. St. Teresa did not neglect this second sign.

     A third and still more decisive indication arises from the fact that virtue normally increases with prayer. The increasingly intimate action of God must be judged especially by this sign rather than by the passive purifications. These, in fact, depend greatly on the obstacles that grace encounters, and also on the types of temperament and on morbid dispositions. Although these passive purifications are inseparable from the development of the mystical life, they cannot measure it with as great certainty as can progress in virtue. Progress in virtue, not as man judges it, but rather as it appears in the sight of God, the only judge of souls, corresponds to the growing intensity of infused contemplation and of the love of God. St. Teresa has noted this in an admirable manner.⁴² Pope Pius X praised her especially for this, saying: "The degrees of prayer enumerated by the saint are so many superior ascents toward the summit of perfection."

     At first, in the prayer of quiet "the will alone is made captive" ⁴³ by the mysterious light received, which manifests to it the goodness of God present in it, as a little child enjoys the milk which is given to it.⁴⁴ Better still, it is like the gushing forth of the living water which Jesus spoke of to the Samaritan woman: "The water flows from the very fountain itself, which is God, . . . it wells up from the most intimate depths of our being with extreme peace, tranquillity, and sweetness. . . . Hardly has this celestial water begun to flow from its source . . . , when one experiences a great interior dilation and increase. The soul then receives inexpressible spiritual benefits and indeed is incapable of understanding what it receives at that moment." ⁴⁵ In this state, however, the understanding, memory, and imagination are not captivated by the divine action. Sometimes they act as the auxiliaries of the will and engage in its service; at other times their contribution serves only to trouble it. St. Teresa says: "Often during this prayer you will not know what to do with your understanding and memory (which never cease to be agitated). . . . But when the will enjoys this quiet, it should take no more notice of the understanding than it would of an idiot." ⁴⁶

     This quiet is often interrupted by the aridities and trials of the passive night of the senses ⁴⁷ and by temptations against patience and chastity which oblige the soul to a salutary reaction. This greatly strengthens the moral virtues which have their seat in the sensitive appetites. The effects of the prayer of quiet are a greater virtue, especially a greater love of God and ineffable peace, at least in the superior part of the soul.⁴⁸

     If the soul is humble and generous,⁴⁹ it will be raised to a higher degree. In simple union, God's action is strong enough to absorb completely the activity of the interior faculties of the soul; all this activity is directed toward Him and no longer goes astray. God seizes and captivates the will, and also the thoughts, memory, and imagination. Furthermore, the soul is usually no longer troubled by distractions. God suspends the natural action of the intellect "in order better to impress on us true wisdom." ⁵⁰ The memory and imagination are likewise arrested in their natural operations and intimately united to God in a way suitable to them. The soul no longer seeks with effort to draw the salutary water which refreshes and purifies it; it receives this water simply, like rain falling from heaven.⁵¹ "God does not leave us any share other than that of an entire conformity of our will to his." ⁵² "How beautiful is the soul after having been immersed in God's grandeur and united closely to Him for but a short time! Indeed, I do not think it is ever as long as half an hour!" ⁵³ The soul has, so to speak, changed form, by dying entirely to the world, like the silkworm which becomes a white butterfly.⁵⁴

     St. Teresa observes that this prayer of union is frequently incomplete, without suspension of the imagination and memory, which at times wage a veritable war on the intellect and will.⁵⁵ Here, as in the prayer of quiet, no more attention should be paid to the imagination than to a madman.⁵⁶ St. Teresa speaks of this incomplete mystical union in The Interior Castle ⁵⁷ when she says: "Is it necessary, in order to attain to this kind of divine union, for the powers of the soul to be suspended? No. God has many ways of enriching the soul and bringing it to these mansions besides what might be called a 'shortcut.' " ⁵⁸

     The effects of the prayer of union are most sanctifying. The soul experiences a great contrition for its faults, an ardent desire to praise God, and strength to face every trial so as to serve Him. It is bitterly grieved at the loss of sinners, and thus it sees what the sufferings of Christ must have been during His earthly life.⁵⁹

     At this time, a period of trial generally comes, described by St. Teresa at the beginning of the sixth mansion, and called by St. John of the Cross the passive night of the soul. "There is an outcry raised against such a person by those amongst whom she lives. . . . They say she wants to pass for a saint, that she goes to extremes in piety. Persons she thought were her friends desert her, making the most bitter remarks of all. . . . She suffers scoffing remarks of all sorts . . . and the worst of it is, these troubles do not blow over but last all her life." But the soul enlightened by God is "strengthened rather than depressed by its trials; experience having taught it the great advantages derived from them. . . . Moreover, the soul conceives a special tenderness for these people who make it suffer." "Our Lord now usually sends severe illnesses.⁶⁰ . . . The rest would seem trifling in comparison, if one could relate the interior torments met with here, but they are impossible to describe. . . . A confessor who dreads and suspects everything. . . . Interior anguish of the soul at the sight of its own wretchedness. . . . It believes that God permits it to be deceived in punishment for its sins. This suffering becomes almost unbearable, especially when such spiritual dryness ensues that the mind feels as if it had never thought of God nor ever will be able to do so. When men speak of Him, they seem to be talking of some person heard of long ago. . . . The understanding is so obscured that it is incapable of discerning the truth; it believes all that the imagination puts before it, besides crediting the falsehoods suggested to it by the devil. Our Lord doubtless gives the devil leave to tempt it, and even to make it think that God has rejected it. . . . During this tempest, the soul is incapable of receiving any comfort. The only remedy is to wait for the mercy of God who, when the soul least expects it, delivers it from all its sufferings by a single word addressed to it, or by some unforeseen happening. Then it seems as if there had never been any trouble and the soul praises the Lord, for it is He who has fought for it and rendered it victorious. The soul sees clearly that the conquest was not its own. . . . Then it recognizes perfectly its weakness and how little we can do of ourselves when the Lord withdraws His help. It no longer needs to reflect in order to understand this truth." ⁶¹

     "Since these troubles come from above, no earthly comfort can avail. This great God wishes us to acknowledge His sovereignty and our misery. . . . The best means . . . to succeed in bearing this anguish is to perform external works of charity and to hope for everything from the mercy of God. He never fails those who hope in Him. . . . The exterior sufferings caused by the devils are more unusual . . . and all the sufferings which they may cause are slight in comparison with those which I have just described."⁶² Farther on, St. Teresa speaks of a still more painful purification of love which occurs at the entrance to the seventh mansion, "as the purification of purgatory introduces the soul into heaven"; ⁶³ but then the soul, while bearing this suffering, is aware that it is an eminent favor.

     After passing through these interior sufferings, the soul receives such a knowledge of God's grandeur that frequently partial or complete ecstasy follows.⁶⁴ Union with God is so perfect that it suspends the operations of the exterior senses; all the activity of the soul is ravished toward God, and consequently ceases to function in regard to the exterior world.⁶⁵ If at times a scholar, like Archimedes, is so absorbed by speculation that he no longer hears words spoken to him, with greater reason is this true of the contemplative soul when a very strong grace, making it experience God's infinite grandeur, absorbs it in this blessed contemplation.⁶⁶

     At other times, the soul exults and cannot refrain from singing the praises of God. This is a very desirable grace: "May His Majesty frequently grant us such a prayer which is both safe and advantageous! We cannot acquire it for ourselves as it is quite supernatural. Sometimes it lasts for a whole day. . . . This jubilation plunges the soul into such a forgetfulness of itself and of all things that it is incapable of thinking or of speaking, except to offer to God praise, which is, as it were, the natural fruit of its joy." ⁶⁷

     St. Teresa says, on the contrary, when speaking of visions impressed directly on the imagination: "It is not at all fitting . . . to desire them"; ⁶⁸ they are extraordinary favors quite distinct from the full development of the life of grace in us. "Know that for having received many favors of this kind, a soul will not merit more glory. . . . There are many saints who never knew what it was to receive one such favor, while others who have received them are not saints at all. . . . Often for even one of these favors the Lord sends a great number of tribulations." ⁶⁹

     Finally the soul is introduced into the seventh mansion, the transforming union with God, which is immediately preceded by a last and very painful purification, that of love, "where the soul dies with the desire to die." In this mansion some souls have an intellectual vision of the Blessed Trinity who dwells in us; but this vision, with a clarity that varies and is as it were intermittent, is not of the essence of the transforming union. Indeed it does not seem necessarily to be linked with it.⁷⁰ Moreover, ecstasies have generally ceased; ⁷¹ and what constitutes the foundation of this eminent state is in no way miraculous, that is, the superior faculties are passively drawn to the deepest center of the soul where the Blessed Trinity dwells. Under the influence of this grace, the soul cannot doubt that the divine Persons are present in it; it is, besides, practically never deprived of Their company. "The soul recognizes by certain secret aspirations that it is God who gives it life," and that He is the Life of our life.⁷² The Christian who has reached this perfect age is morally one with Him, in the sense in which St. Paul says: "He who is joined to the Lord, is one spirit." ⁷³ As far as is possible on earth, this is the full realization of our Lord's prayer: "That they may be one, as We also are one; I in them, and Thou in Me . . . and that the world may know that Thou hast sent Me, . . . and hast loved them, as Thou hast also loved Me." ⁷⁴ In the same way, rain falling into a river is so mingled with the stream that it can no longer be distinguished from it; or, to use the figure employed by St. John of the Cross: "It resembles the condition of wood when the fire has attacked it with its flames, dried it out, and finally penetrated it and transformed it into itself." ⁷⁵ It is still wood, but incandescent wood which has taken on the properties of fire. In the same way, a flame rises almost constantly toward God from a purified heart.

     The effects of the transforming union are those of the perfect exercise of the theological virtues and of the gifts, which have reached their full development. The soul is practically freed from the disorders of the passions; as long as it is under the actual grace of the transforming union, it does not commit deliberate venial sins.⁷⁶ At other times, it still occasionally commits some venial faults, which are quickly atoned for. What is outstanding in the soul is a great forgetfulness of self, a keen desire to suffer in imitation of our Lord, a true joy in persecution. Aridities and interior sufferings have ceased as well as the desire to die. These souls, inflamed with zeal for the glory of God and the salvation of their neighbor, "desire to live long years in the midst of the most severe trials in order that the Lord may be ever so little glorified by them." ⁷⁷ This is truly the apostolic life (manifest or hidden), which flows from the plenitude of contemplation, to use the expression of St. Thomas.⁷⁸ It is the full perfection of Christian life, which our Lord, the Blessed Virgin, and the Apostles have exemplified in the highest degree. "God cannot bestow upon us a more precious favor than a life conformed to that of His well-beloved Son. Moreover, . . . these graces are intended to strengthen our weakness and to make us able to bear great sufferings in imitation of this divine Son." ⁷⁹ The soul is thus truly spiritualized and shares in the very strength of Christ and in His immense love for God and for souls. Such is, on earth, the perfect age of the life of grace, the full realization of the first precept: "Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with all thy strength, and with all thy mind." ⁸⁰

     All just souls are called, at least in a general and remote manner, to this transforming union, which is the normal prelude to the life of heaven. If they are faithful to this call, and at the same time humble and generous, they will hear a more proximate and urgent invitation.⁸¹ St. Teresa repeats this in the Epilogue to The Interior Castle: "In truth you cannot by your own strength, no matter how great it may seem to you, enter all the mansions. The Master of the Castle must Himself admit you. If you encounter any resistance on His part, I advise you not to try to use violence. You would so greatly displease Him that He would forever close the doors to you. He deeply loves humility; if you believe yourself unworthy to enter even the third mansion, you will soon obtain admission to the fifth. You will even be able to frequent it so assiduously and to serve Him so well, that He will admit you to the mansion which He has reserved for Himself." ⁸² She makes the same statement in her Life.⁸³

     In conclusion, let us point out that in St. Teresa's writings the normal way of sanctity consists in humility and abnegation, which prepare the soul for infused contemplation, highly desirable for all, and also for a more and more intimate divine union, indeed even for the transforming union, the culminating point in the normal development of the supernatural life. As for extraordinary facts, such as visions, interior words, and private revelations, however useful for the sanctification of the soul, they ought not to be desired. They are accidental, transient phenomena, whereas infused contemplation continues. They do not unite us as closely to God as do perfect faith and the gift of wisdom which, in varying degrees, exists in all the just.⁸⁴

     What the interior soul should desire above all else is the ever deeper reign of God in it, continual growth in charity. This it should long for because the precept of love is without limit and obliges us, if not to be saints, at least to tend to sanctity, each one according to his condition,⁸⁵ and because Christ said to all: "Be ye perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect." This is the goal which St. Teresa has shown us. The greatest tribute that can be given her is that she has marvelously praised the glory of God by making us see, in her writings and in her life, God's great love for the humble, and all that He wishes to do for "souls determined to follow our Lord and to journey on, in spite of the cost, even to the fountain of living water. . . . This is the royal road which leads to heaven." ⁸⁶

ARTICLE IV

What Infused Contemplation Does Not Essentially Require

     The different definitions of infused contemplation given by theologians agree on one fundamental point. Infused contemplation, they say, is, above reasoning and in the obscurity of faith, a simple and loving knowledge of God, which cannot be obtained by our personal activity aided by grace, but rather demands a manifest, special illumination and inspiration of the Holy Ghost.¹ When it lasts for a certain time, this contemplation is a state of passive prayer. Theologians generally agree on this fundamental point. We believe it is the true definition, which retains what is essential in the descriptions given by the most accepted mystics. To understand this definition well, we will show first what infused contemplation does not require. Once the ground has been cleared, we shall more easily see what really constitutes it, by seeking the principle from which contemplation proceeds.

     There have been theologians who thought that more distinctive marks should be added to the definition we have just given. Some have declared that infused contemplation is given suddenly, unexpectedly, without preparation on our part, and that it is accompanied by an absolute impossibility of discursive reasoning.² Others, confusing it with certain accidental and concomitant phenomena, have seen in it a gratuitous grace (gratis data), an extraordinary gift such as prophecy.³ According to others, it would require infused ideas similar to those of the angels and would make us see God not in an image, but as He is in Himself.⁴ Some have even added that infused contemplation is not a meritorious act.⁵ These confusions may be easily dispelled by an examination of St. Teresa's descriptions, quoted in the preceding article. It is a simple matter to show that the definition which we have given fully suffices without the addition of other ideas.

     1) Infused contemplation is not always given suddenly, unexpectedly, like rain falling from heaven. More often than not, it is granted after a certain preparation, when the soul is already recollected. Thus, according to St. Teresa (The Interior Castle, fourth mansion), the prayer of quiet is a "supernatural" prayer which we are incapable of procuring for ourselves by our own efforts. But she says that the soul prepares itself to receive this prayer by pious thoughts, by labor of the understanding, as one turns a noria (water wheel) in order to draw water.⁶ On this point, it is well also to consult St. John of the Cross.⁷

     2) Infused contemplation is not necessarily accompanied by an absolute impossibility to discourse or to reason, which would come from the suspension of the imagination. It is possible for this ligature not to exist, since according to the saints there are often distractions in the supernatural prayer of quiet. They also say that some souls, which are in this state, are wrong in leaving it by being willing to discourse too much.

     3) Another error is to hold that infused contemplation is not a meritorious act. Although we cannot have it at will like an act of faith, we can freely consent to be moved in this way by the Holy Ghost. Consequently the act is vital and free, without in itself being deliberate and the fruit of our personal effort. In the same way a good student, attentive to the doctrine proposed by his teacher, is passive while receiving it, for he could not have discovered it himself; but he receives it voluntarily and with facility. In infused contemplation the soul exercises this docility toward God; this docility is free and also meritorious because it proceeds from charity, the source of all merit.

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