Catherine is known in history as one of the great ascetics of the Church;
these letters show her intimate attitude toward the mortification of the
flesh. She was a woman called of God and her natural powers, constantly to
assume the dangerous duty of convincing men of their sin; these letters
give us her conception of the safeguards needed in the performance of that
duty.
Both letters were written to Religious. Father William Flete was an
Englishman, who, passing through Italy in his youth, became fascinated
with the land, and spent the rest of his life in a hermit's cell in the
Forest of Lecceto. The annals of the time throw some entertaining side-
lights on his figure. Famous for his austerities and for the sanctity of
his life, he was also a very impatient and somewhat intolerant person,
given to carping criticism of his brother hermits. Catherine, in writing
to him, analyses mercilessly the dangers of the ascetic life; one feels
that not much self-righteousness could be left in a man after reading her
trenchant phrases. Soon, however, she lifts him with her to the ardent
contemplation of the perfect life; it is in words of singular beauty that
she describes the attitude of generous loving-kindness, uncritical, humble
and glad, with which the true servant of God considers all sorts and
conditions of men: "Such a man rejoices in every type that he sees,
saying: Thanks be to Thee, Eternal Father, that Thou hast many mansions in
Thy house.... He rejoices more in the differences among men than he would
in seeing them all walk in the same way; for so he sees more manifest the
greatness of the goodness of God. He gets from everything the fragrance of
roses."
In the letter to Sister Daniella, Catherine develops these ideas further.
Of this "great servant of God" nothing is known except what Catherine's
letters to her show. Something may be inferred from the fact that she is
one of the few people to whom the greater woman writes as to a spititual
equal. She repeats to Daniella the letter to Father William--such
warnings, indeed, being needed by all persons leading the consecrated
life--and then goes on, in the remainder of the letter as here given, to
discuss those farther reaches of perfection in which charity has done its
perfect work. Two things she wishes herself and Daniella to observe: the
first is abstinence from critical thoughts. Let us not "judge the minds of
our fellow-creatures, which are for God alone to judge." It is the key to
her own method in her great cure of souls which she here gives us: "When
it seems that God shows us the faults of others, keep on the safer side--
for it may be that thy judgment is false. On thy lips let silence abide.
And any vice which thou mayest ascribe to others, do thou ascribe at once
to them and to thyself, in true humility. If that vice really exists in a
person, he will correct himself better, seeing himself so gently
understood, and will say of his own accord the thing which thou wouldst
have said to him."--The other point which Catherine urges on Daniella is
the secondary importance of that life of mortification to which she firmly
believes that they have both been called. "Good is penance and maceration
of the body; but do not present these to me as a rule for every one. If
either for ourselves or others, we made penance our foundation ... we
should be ignorant, and should fall into a critical attitude, and become
weary and very bitter: for we should strive to give a finished work to
God, Who is Infinite Love, and demands from us only infinite desire."
Surely, in this last thought Catherine has attained in a flash to sublime
spiritual insight.
The Saints knew all about telepathy long before Societies of Psychical
Research grew eager over the matter. It might surprise some modern
psychologists to read the tranquil passage in which Catherine, assuming as
a matter of course that any servant of God engaged in intercessory prayer
has a mystical and direct knowledge of the condition of those she prays
for, proceeds to warn Daniella as intelligently as any modern could do,
though in different terms, as to the limitations within which this kind of
knowledge can be trusted.
The little note with which this group closes is not written to a great
recluse, but to a tailor's wife. With the simple, Catherine showed herself
simple; but Monna Agnese is to lead the consecrated life no less than
Sister Daniella. Catherine's plain directions to the one about her daily
living evince the same mental clarity and sobriety as her exhortations to
the other, and discriminate in much the same way between the excitement of
religious practices and true consecration.
TO BROTHER WILLIAM OF ENGLAND
OF THE HERMIT BROTHERS OF ST. AUGUSTINE
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest son in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the
servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood, with desire
to see you in true light. For without light we shall not be able to walk
in the way of truth, but shall walk in shadows. Two lights are necessary.
First, we must be illumined to know the transitory things of the world,
which all pass like the wind. But these are not rightly known if we do not
know our own frailty, how inclined it is, from the perverse law which is
bound up with our members, to rebel against its Creator. This light is
necessary to every rational creature, in whatever state it may be, if it
wishes to have divine grace, and to share in the blessing of the Blood of
the Spotless Lamb. This is the common light, that everybody in general
ought to have, for whoever has it not is in a state of condemnation. This
is the reason; that, not having light, he is not in a state of grace; for
one who does not know the evil of wrong, nor who is cause of it, cannot
avoid it nor hate the cause. So he who does not know good, and virtue the
cause of good, cannot love nor desire that good.
The soul must not stay content because it has arrived at gaining the
general light; nay, it ought to go on with all zeal to the perfect light.
For since men are at first imperfect rather than perfect, they should
advance in light to perfection. Two kinds of perfect people walk in this
perfect light. There are some who give themselves to castigating their
body perfectly, doing very great harsh penance; and that the flesh may not
rebel against the reason, they have placed all their desire rather on
mortifying their body than on slaying their self-will. These people feed
at the table of penitence and are good and perfect; but unless they have a
great humility and conform themselves not wholly to judge according to the
will of God and not according to that of men, they often wrong their
perfection, making themselves judges of those who do not walk in the same
way in which they do.
This happens to them because they have put more thought and desire on
mortifying their body than on slaying their self-will. Such men as these
always want to choose times and places and mental consolations to suit
themselves; also, worldly tribulations, and their battles with the devil;
saying, through self-deceit, beguiled by their own will--which is called
spiritual self-will--"I should like this consolation, and not these
assaults or battles with the devil; not for my own sake, but to please
God, and possess Him more fully, because I seem to possess Him better in
this way than in that." Many a time, in such a way as this, the soul falls
into suffering and weariness, and becomes unendurable to itself through
them, and thus wrongs its state of perfection. The odour of pride clings
to it, and this it does not perceive. For, were it truly humble and not
presumptuous, it would see well that the Sweet Primal Truth gives
conditions, time and place, and consolation and tribulation, according as
is needful to our perfection, and to fulfil in the soul the perfection to
which it is chosen. It would see that everything is given through love,
and therefore with love.
All things ought to be received with reverence, as is done by the second
class of people, who abide in this sweet and glorious light, who are
perfect in whatever condition they are, and, in so far as God permits
them, hold everything in due reverence, esteeming themselves worthy of
sufferings and scandals in the world, and of missing their consolations.
As they hold themselves worthy of sufferings, so they hold themselves
unworthy of the reward which follows suffering. These have known and
tasted in the light the eternal will of God, which wishes naught but our
good, and that we be sanctified in Him, therefore giving His gifts. When
the soul has known this will, it is arrayed therein, and cares for nothing
save to see in what wise it can grow, and preserve its condition perfect,
for glory and praise of the Name of God. Therefore, it opens the eye of
the mind upon its object, Christ crucified, who is rule and way and
doctrine for perfect and imperfect: and sees the loving Lamb, Who gives it
the doctrine of perfection, which seeing it loves.
Perfection is this: that the Word, the Son of God, fed at the table of
holy desire for the honour of God and for our salvation; and with this
desire ran with great zeal to the shameful death of the Cross, avoiding
neither toil nor labour, not drawing back for the ingratitude and
ignorance of us men who did not recognize His benefits, nor for the
persecution of the Jews, nor for mockery or insults or criticism of the
people, but underwent them all, like our captain and true knight, who was
come to teach us His way and rule and doctrine, opening the door with the
keys of His precious Blood, shed with ardent love and hatred against sin.
As says this sweet, loving Word, "Behold, I have made you a way, and
opened the door with My blood. Be you then not negligent to follow it, and
do not sit yourselves down in self-love, ignorantly failing to know the
Way, and presumptuously wishing to choose it after your own fashion, and
not after Mine who made it. Rise up then, and follow Me: for no one can go
to the Father but by Me. I am the Way and the Door."
Then the soul, enamoured and tormented with love, runs to the table of
holy desire, and sees not itself in itself, seeking private consolation,
spiritual or temporal, but, as one who has wholly destroyed his own will
in this light and knowledge, refuses no toil from whatever side it comes.
Nay, in suffering, in pain, in many assaults from the devil and criticisms
from men, it seeks upon the table of the Cross the food of the honour of
God and the salvation of men. And it seeks no reward, from God or from
fellow-creatures; such men serve God, not for their own joy, and the
neighbour not for their own will or profit, but from pure love. They lose
themselves, divesting them of the old man, their fleshly desires, and
array them in the new man, Christ sweet Jesus, following Him manfully.
These are they who feed at the table of holy desire, and have more zeal
for slaying their self-will than for slaying and mortifying the body. They
have mortified the body, to be sure, but not as a chief aim, but as the
tool which it is, to help in slaying self-will; for one's chief aim ought
to be and is to slay the will; that it may seek and wish naught save to
follow Christ crucified, seeking the honour and glory of His Name, and the
salvation of souls. Such men abide ever in peace and quiet; there are none
who can offend them, because they have cast away the thing that gives
offence--that is, self-will. All the persecutions which the world and the
devil can inflict run away beneath their feet; they stand in the water,
made fast to the twigs of eager desire, and are not submerged. Such a man
as this rejoices in everything; he does not make himself a judge of the
servants of God, nor of any rational creature; nay, he rejoices in every
condition and every type that he sees, saying, "Thanks be to Thee, eternal
Father, that Thou hast many mansions in Thy House." And he rejoices more
in the different kinds of men that he sees than he would do in seeing them
all walk in the same way, for so he sees the greatness of God's goodness
more manifest. He joys in everything, and gets from it the fragrance of
roses. And even as to a thing which he may expressly see to be sin, he
does not pose as a judge, but regards it rather with holy true compassion,
saying, "To-day it is thy turn, and to-morrow mine, unless it be for
divine grace which preserves me."
Oh, holy minds, who feed at the table of holy desire, who have attained in
great light to nourish you with holy food, clothed with the sweet raiment
of the Lamb, His love and charity! You do not lose time in accepting false
judgments, either of the servants of God or of the servants of the world;
you do not take offence at any criticism, either against yourselves or
others. Your love toward God and your neighbour is governed well, and not
ungoverned. And because it is governed, such men as these, dearest son,
never take offence at those whom they love; for appearances are dead to
them, and they have submitted themselves not to be guided by men, but only
by the Holy Spirit. See then, these enjoy in this life the pledge of life
eternal.
I wish you and the other ignorant sons to reach this light, for I see that
this perfection is lacking to you and to others. For were it not lacking
to you, you would not have fallen into such criticism and offence and
false judgment, as to say and believe that another man was guided and
mastered by the will of the creature and not of the Creator. My soul and
my heart grieve to see you wrong the perfection to which God has called
you, under pretence of love and odour of virtue. Nevertheless, these are
the tares which the devil has sowed in the field of the Lord; he has done
this to choke the seed of holy desire and doctrine sowed in your fields.
Will then to do so no more, since God has of grace given you great lights;
the first, to despise the world; the second, to mortify the body; the
third, to seek the honour of God. Do not wrong this perfection with
spiritual self-will, but rise from the table of penance and attain the
table of the desire of God, where the soul is wholly dead to its own will,
nourishing itself without suffering on the honour of God and the salvation
of souls, growing in perfection and not wronging it.
Therefore, considering that this condition cannot be had without light,
and seeing that you had it not, I said that I desired and desire to see
you in true and perfect light. Thus I pray you, by the love of Christ
crucified--you and Brother Antonio and all the others--that you struggle
to win it, so that you may be numbered among the perfect and not among the
imperfect. I say no more. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. I
commend me to all of you. Bathe you in the Blood of Christ crucified.
Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.
TO DANIELLA OF ORVIETO
CLOTHED WITH THE HABIT OF ST. DOMINIC
Thou seest, then, that such men enjoy in this life the pledge of life
eternal. They receive, not the payment, but the pledge--not waiting to
receive it till the enduring life, where is life without death, satiety
without disgust, and hunger without pain. For far is the pain of hunger,
since they have completely what they desire; and far is the disgust of
satiety, since that is the Food of Life without any lack. It is true that
in this life one begins to enjoy the pledge, in this way, that the soul
begins to be an-hungered for the food of the honour of God and the
salvation of souls. As it is an-hungered, so it feeds thereon; yes, the
soul nourishes itself on charity for the neighbour, for whom it has a
hungry desire. That is a food which never satisfies those nourished on it.
It never satiates, and therefore hunger lasts for ever. As a pledge is a
beginning of surety given to a man, through which he expects to receive
payment (not that the pledge is perfect in itself, but it gives assurance
through one's trust, that fulfilment will come), so the soul enamoured of
Christ, which has already received in this life the pledge of love for God
and its neighbour, is not perfect in itself, but awaits the perfection of
the life immortal. I say that this pledge is not perfect--that is, the
soul which enjoys it has not yet reached such perfection as not to feel
sufferings, in itself or others: in itself, from the wrong it does to God,
through the perverse law which is bound into our members; and in others,
from the wrong of the neighbour. It is, to be sure, perfect in grace, but
it has not the perfection of the saints, who are in the eternal life, as I
said; since their desires are free from suffering and ours are not. Dost
thou know how it is with the true servant of God, who nourishes him at the
table of holy desire? He is blessèd and grieving, as was the Son of God
upon the wood of the Most Holy Cross: for the flesh of Christ was grieved
and tortured, and the soul was blessèd, through its union with the Divine
Nature. So, through the union of our desire with God, ought we to be
blessed, and clothed with His sweet will; and grieving, through compassion
for our neighbour, casting from us sensuous joys and comforts and
mortifying our flesh.
But listen, daughter and dearest sister. I have spoken to thee and me in
general, but now I shall speak to thee and me in particular. I want us to
do two special things, in order that ignorance may not hinder our
perfection, to which God calls us; that the devil, under cloak of virtue
and love of the neighbour, may not nourish the root of presumption within
our soul. For from this we shall fall into false judgments; seeming to
ourselves to judge aright, we shall judge crookedly: often, if we followed
our own impressions, the devil would make us see many truths to lead us
into falsehood; and this, because we make ourselves judges of the minds of
our fellow-creatures, which are for God alone to judge.
This is one of the two things from which I wish that we should free
ourselves completely. But I want the lesson to be learned reasonably. This
is the reasonable way: if God expressly, not only once or twice, but more
often, reveals the fault of a neighbour to our mind, we ought never to
tell it in particular to the person whom it concerns, but to correct in
common the vices of all those whom it befalls us to judge, and to implant
virtues, tenderly and benignly. Severity in the benignity, as may be
needed. And should it seem that God showed us repeatedly the faults of
another, yet unless there were, as I said, a special revelation, keep on
the safer side, that we may escape the deceit and malice of the devil; for
he would catch us with this hook of desire. On thy lips, then, let silence
abide, and holy talk of virtues, and disdain of vice. And any vice that it
may seem to thee to recognize in others, do thou ascribe at once to them
and to thyself, using ever a true humility. If that vice really exists in
any such person, he will correct himself better, seeing himself so gently
understood, and will say that to thee which thou wouldest have said to
him. And thou wilt be safe, and wilt close the way to the devil, who will
be unable to deceive us or to hinder the perfection of thy soul. Know that
we ought not to trust in any appearances, but to put them behind our
backs, and abide only in the perception and knowledge of ourselves. And if
it ever happened that we were praying particularly for some fellow-
creatures, and in prayer we saw some light of grace in one of those for
whom we were praying, and none in another, who was also a servant of God--
but thou didst seem to see him with his mind abased and sterile--do not
therefore assume to judge that there is grave fault or lack in him, for it
might be that thy opinion was false. For it happens sometimes that when
one is praying for the same person, one occasion will find him in such
light and holy desire before God that the soul will seem to fatten on his
welfare; and on another occasion thou shalt find him when his soul seems
so far from God, and full of shadows and temptations, that it is toil to
whoso prays for him to hold him in God's presence. This may happen
sometimes through a fault of him for whom one is praying, but more often
it is due not to a fault, but to God's having withdrawn Himself from this
soul--that is, He has withdrawn Himself as to any feeling of sweetness and
consolation, though not as to grace. So the soul will have stayed sterile,
dry, and full of pain--which God makes that soul which is praying for it
perceive. And God does this in mercy to that soul which receives the
prayer, that thou mayest aid Him to scatter the cloud. So thou seest,
sweet my sister, how ignorant and worthy of rebuke our opinion would be,
if simply from these appearances we judged that there was vice in this
soul. Therefore, if God showed it to us so troubled and darkened, when we
have already seen that it was not deprived of grace, but only of the
sweetness of feeling God's presence--I beg thee, then, thee and me and
every servant of God, that we apply us to knowing ourselves perfectly,
that we may more perfectly know the goodness of God; so that, illumined,
we may abandon judging our neighbour, and adopt true compassion, hungering
to proclaim virtues and reprove sin in both ourselves and them, in the way
we spoke of before.
We have spoken of one thing, but now I tell thee of the other, which I beg
that we rebuke in ourselves: if sometimes the devil or our own very evil
construction of matters tormented us by making us want to send or see all
the servants of God walking in the same way that we are walking in
ourselves. For it frequently happens that a soul which sees itself advance
by way of great penance, would like to send all people by that same way;
and if it sees that they do not walk there, it is displeased and shocked,
feeling that they are not doing right: while sometimes it will happen that
the man is doing better and being more virtuous than his critic, although
he does not do as much penance. For perfection does not consist in
macerating or killing the body, but in killing our perverse self-will. And
in this way, of the will destroyed, submitted to the sweet Will of God, we
ought indeed to desire all men to walk. Good is penance and the maceration
of the body; but do not show me these as a rule for every one, since all
bodies are not alike, and also since it often happens that a penance begun
has to be given up from many accidents that may occur. If, then, we made
ourselves or others build on penance as a foundation, it might come to
nothing, and be so imperfect that consolation and virtue would fail the
soul; for, deprived of the thing which it loved and had made of prime
importance, it would seem to be deprived of God, and so would fall into
weariness and very great sadness and bitterness, and would lose in the
bitterness the activity and fervent prayer to which it was accustomed. So
thou seest what evil would follow from making penance alone one's chief
concern: we should be ignorant, and should fall into a critical attitude,
and become weary and very bitter; we should strive to give only a finished
work to God, who is Infinite Good that demands from us infinite desire. We
ought, then, to build our foundation on killing and destroying our own
perverse will; with that will submitted to the will of God, we shall
devote sweet, hungry, infinite desire to the honour of God and the
salvation of souls. Thus shall we feed at the table of that holy desire
which never takes offence either at itself or at its neighbour, but
rejoices and finds fruit in everything. Miserable woman that I am, I mourn
that I never followed this true doctrine; nay, I have done the contrary,
and therefore I feel that I have often fallen into irritation and a
judicial attitude toward my neighbour. Wherefore I pray thee, by the love
of Christ Crucified, that for this and for my every other infirmity,
healing may be found; so that thou and I may begin to-day to walk in the
way of truth, enlightened to build our true foundation on holy desire, and
not trusting in appearances and impressions; so that we may not lightly
neglect ourselves and judge the faults of our neighbours, unless by way of
compassion or general rebuke.
This we shall do if we nourish us at the table of holy desire: otherwise
we cannot. For from desire we have light, and light gives us desire; so
one nourishes the other. Therefore I said that I desired to see thee in
the true light. I say no more. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God.
Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.
TO MONNA AGNESE
WIFE OF FRANCESCO, A TAILOR OF FLORENCE
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest daughter in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of
the servants of Jesus Christ, write to thee in His precious Blood, with
desire to see thee clothed in true and perfect humility--for that is a
little virtue which makes us great in the sweet sight of God. This is the
virtue which constrained and inclined God to make His most sweet Son
incarnate in the Womb of Mary. It is as exalted as the proud are humbled;
it shines in the sight of God and men; it binds the hands of the wicked,
it unites the soul with God, it purifies and laves away the soil of our
sin, and calls on God to show us mercy. I will then, sweetest daughter,
that thou strive to embrace this glorious virtue, so that thou mayest pass
over the stormy sea of this world free from storm and peril.
Now comfort thee in this sweet and sincere virtue, and bathe thee in the
Blood of Christ crucified. And when thou canst empty thy time for prayer,
I pray thee to do it. And love tenderly every rational being. Then, I beg
and command thee not to fast, except, when thou canst, on the days
commanded by Holy Church. And when thou dost not feel strong enough to
fast then, do not observe them. At other times, do not fast, except when
thou feelest able, on Saturday. When this heat is over, fast on the days
of Holy Mary, if thou canst, and no more. And drink something beside water
every day. Labour hard to increase thy holy desire, and let these other
things alone for the future. Do not be anxious or depressed over us, for
we are all well. When it shall please the Divine Goodness, we shall see
one another again. I say no more to thee. Remain in the holy and sweet
grace of God. Comfort my sweet daughters, Ursula and Ginevra. Sweet Jesus,
Jesus Love.