The Monk Guibert to Hildegard
The Letters of Hildegard of Bingen despairing of your life. Thus although you sometimes scale the mountain of assured faith to reach God, you nevertheless question Him as if you do not know what to do in this state of doubt. But I say to you, walk in pure faith doing good works in the day of your prosperity, and give God what is His [cf Matt 22.21;
Mark 12.17; Luke 20.25]. For, in truth, you see the sun—an honor which God will not yet take away from you—and also with sighs and with awe for God's law, you hold the world in contempt, like the moon in the night. In both ways, therefore, serve God, because He desires your sacrifice, and because He demands good works from you before you die.
May the light of God's grace cover you, and may He anoint you with the ointment of His mercy, just as He anointed David, who, having confessed his sins, saw God [cf. II Sam 12.13]. May He anoint you with the viridity of the Holy
Spirit, and may He work good and holy works in you through that devotion with which true worshipers worship God [cf. John 4.23]. Now, keep God's commandments, and you will live forever.
Gembloux
The Monk Guibert to Hildegard
This extraordinary monk1 was to become Hildegard's last secretary, taking on the position in 1177, when the saint was seventy-nine years old, and remaining in that capacity until her death two years later. This letter is his first contact with her. Note his extravagant praise: save for the Blessed Virgin, her grace is "unique among women"; she is the equal of the great women prophets of the Old Testament, et cetera. Still, he feels it necessary to warn her, at length, of the dangers of pride in one's holiness. Then, he poses the first group of his famous questions to Hildegard, about the language in which she receives her visions; about her learning, whether the result of personal study or divine revelation, e
To the servant of Christ, Hildegard, most excellent of name and merit, with reverence, Brother Guibert, least among the brothers at Gembloux, with a prayer that, with the virgins in eternal beatitude, she receive the crown of glory [cf I Pet 5.4] from the Bridegroom of virgins.
When, venerable mother, we reflect on the singular gifts bestowed upon you by the Holy Spirit, gifts scarcely heard of through all the ages up to the present day, all of us who have seen your writings offer thanks out of our poor gifts to the Author of gifts. For although, on account of our sins, we do not merit to receive these gifts ourselves, nevertheless, through you, we drink of them frequently, because you are like a pure vessel into which they are poured, and, overflowing, you distill them to us. Truly, "thy breasts are better than wine"
The Letters
[Cant 1.1] to us, your fragrance better than the "best ointment" [Cant 1.2], for on coming forth from the cellars of contemplation where the eternal King often brings you as His bride [cf. Cant 1.3], you make us participants through your writings of those holy visions which, with unveiled face [cf. II Cor 3.18], you see while in the embraces of your Bridegroom, and you draw us after you, running in the fragrance of your ointments [cf. Cant 1.3]. Who indeed reads those visions, or even the exposition of them, without being delighted as in great riches?
Or who tastes how sweet and sound your Catholic doctrine is, without immediately crying out about you: "Thy lips are as a dropping honeycomb, honey and milk are under thy tongue" [Cant 4.11 ]; "thy plants are a paradise of pomegranates with the fruits of the orchard" [Cant 4.13]?
Truly, holy mother, rivers of living water flow to us from your belly [cf.
John 7.38], according to the promise of the Lord, and for the joy of the city of God (which is the Church) you have become "the fountain of gardens" in the Church, "the well of living waters, which run with a strong stream from Libanus"
[Cant 4.15], From Libanus, indeed, for they flow to us not from you, but through you, from Libanus, from the mountain, that is to say, covered and made white by all the virtues, from the mountain which the Father lifted not only above the hills but above the tops of the highest mountains, from the many-peaked and fat mountain [cf. Ps 67.16]. And He also does not fail to abundantly irrigate you, among the other mountains (whence cometh our help [cf. Ps 120.1]), with the showers of His benediction from the peaks.
Truly, save for her through whose Son we attain our salvation, your grace is unique among women. For although we find in the Scripture some songs and prophecies of Miriam, the sister of Aaron and Moses, or of Deborah or Judith, you seem to us coequal, if I may say so, to those contemplators of the highest mysteries through visions or revelations from the Lord, bedewed much more by the floods of the Spirit. O the wondrous and unceasing mercy toward humankind of our gracious Redeemer! For through the same sex by which death entered the world, life has been restored—through His mother. And the same hand that served us the deadly cup of perdition has now poured out for us the antidote of recovery through your salvific teaching.a Still, saintly lady, I must warn you—not argumentatively, certainly, but reverently—to be cautious and persevering. I know that I need not advise you about spiritual progress, since you haver already reached the heights of perfection. All the same, remember that you bear your treasure in a fragile vessel, and that it is not the reeds and twigs (which easily bounce back) but the mighty trees that are uprooted by the winds. Look to David and Peter, and "do not aspire too high, but fear" [Rom 11.20], and however high you are, humble yourself in all things, so that the grace that you now have may be preserved whole until the end. Be aware, too, that the way is filled with traps and scandals, and that dangers abound; and, therefore, proceed cautiously until you complete the journey.
And never rest secure until the accounting of the talents entrusted to you has been settled with the great Creditor. And do not boast about these talents as if they were your own, save in accordance with the Scripture: "Whoever boasts, let him boast in the Lord" [I Cor 1.31 ]. It is true that you need not fear that ter-
The Letters of HildegarJ of Bingen rible power or strength which is described as being in the loins or the belly of the Leviathan [cf. Job 40.11 ] since you have crushed the head of the evil one [cf.
Gen 3.15], that is to say, the principal inducement to lechery, beneath the foot of chastity. Still, you should bear in mind that in Apocalypse the tail of the dragon not only carried off the fields of the earth, but also a third part of the stars of heaven [cf. Apoc 12.4]. One reads there too that the horses had the power of injuring, not only in their mouths, but also in their tails. For "their tails are like to serpents, arid with them they hurt" [Apoc 9.19]. Therefore, holy mother, now that you have escaped the head of the ancient serpent, take care that you are not struck by the tail, and, as far as you can, with God's protection, guard your heel, that is, your departure from life, from the serpent's treachery.
I do not fear that you will accuse me of presumption in speaking to you thus, for my advice does not stem from temerity but from my sincere devotion to you.
Besides, I have taken the time simply for the happy occasion of being able to talk with you freely. That advice was for your benefit. On my side, I, who "stick fast in the mire of the deep" [Ps 68.3], and whose "sores are putrified and corrupted, because of my foolishness" [Ps 37.6], I pray through the sweetness of the almighty God that you deign to count me among the number of your close friends, and that you will not refuse to keep in mind the one who is always mindful of you. Thus lifting up pure hands in prayer [cf. I Tim 2.8], I beseech the immense goodness of the blessed Redeemer, that He will not be slow to grant me forgiveness of my past sins, emendation of my present ones, and warning about any future lapses. But because I am a monk, and have neither the opportunity nor the means of visiting you so that I can discuss with you in person the matters I wish to learn from you, I pray that you will deign to give diligent attention to the questions I have candidly set before you through the present messenger.2 I am asking for a revelation of the spirit to aid me in these and other personal concerns. Please do not delay in informing me what course of action I am to take, and in responding to my queries in writing. We—my friends and I—wish to know whether it is true, as is commonly said, that you completely forget what you have spoken in a vision once it has been taken down by your amanuenses at your bidding. Personally, I can scarcely believe it. We also desire to know whether you dictate those visions in Latin, or whether, after you have uttered them in German, someone else translates them into Latin. We wish to know too whether you have mastered letters or the Holy Scriptures through study, or whether you have learned through divine anointing alone, which chooses those it would inspire.
But because, my lady, I do not yet deserve to see your face, resplendent, as I believe, with divine light, at least let me hear your voice, so sweet to me, through a letter, so that I may have a memorial of you, in which the image of your saintliness will shine back to me like a reflection in a mirror. Thus, the closer it is, the more frequently your memory will remain in my heart.
May the Lord deign to preserve the manifestation of your sanctity unimpaired for years to come, reverend mother, for the honor and profit of His Church. Amen.
The lord abbot and our prior, along with the entire church at Gembloux entrusted to them, greet you, and pray God for your health, requesting that you do the same for them. I, the writer of this letter to you, greet you with all my heart, as does too my beloved brother, also named Guibert, who took the dicta-