“Deep down in my heart I heard his voice and
then I was ready to bear anything for Him." [1]
A VOCATION IN DIFFICULT TIMES
The France of Elizabeth’s youth was in the grip of a government pursuing a relentless policy of religious persecution[2] The country was still reeling from the Franco-German war of 1870 and an on-going campaign in Algeria. Elizabeth’s father had fought in both, and her mother’s father was in the army.[3] Hence Elizabeth was no stranger to army life, that is until the death of her father in 1887 (when she was 7 years old). The vast majority of French people were good Catholics and the Catez family were no exception, yet their religious freedom was at risk from an anti-Catholic government of the minority. Schools and Religious houses were being shut; and churches despoiled.[4] Against this background, Mme Catez not only brought up two young girls in the faith, the family remained devoutly Catholic.
It was shortly after the death of her father that Elizabeth told Canon Angles that she intended to become a nun. Her mother overhearing, later asked the Canon if he thought the child had a vocation - he was quite sure. Some years later when the mother saw her daughter’s face after receiving First Holy Communion, she knew that the Canon’s instinct had been good.
‘Known and predestined from eternity and called by name. . Elizabeth . . is asked to respond in time to the plan of God’s Love. (Her) vocation.. . is to be manifested in a kind of dialogue In faith, hope, and charity between herself and God one and three,. who enabled her to reach her full potential in the measure that she was faithful to the Divine promptings..’ [5]
The decisive moment for Elizabeth perhaps happened when she was 14 years old. During her thanksgiving after Holy Communion, she experienced the call of Our Lord in her soul [6]: just the word ‘Carmel’. No longer was there, no longer could there be, any doubt. Like one of her favourite saints, Mary Magdalen, when the ‘Gardener’ called her by name, her love was committed for ever. It would be foolish to think that Mme Catez was unaware of her daughter’s true feelings [7], but when these were discussed both with the daughter and with a priest, she would not give consent to a religious life.
Do not think badly of her, Elizabeth never did. Was not the mother’s heart torn asunder? She herself had had thoughts of a religious life many years earlier; and she was as aware as anyone that her daughter had been called by Our Lord. Of course she knew how unhappy the decision made her daughter, but what of the uncertainty caused by the ever increasing religious persecution? Outwardly, she let it appear that she was anxious to test Elizabeth’s vocation [8] but inwardly, she knew just how unnecessary that was. It would be foolish also to think that Elizabeth was unaware either of her mother’s anguish or the causes of it. She accepted the decision but, as with everything else, she talked it over with Our Blessed Mother, Mary, and handed the problem over to her, confident of the outcome!
Help was to come from a most unexpected quarter and it is one of those ironies that this is known about because although Elizabeth destroyed almost all her diaries before entering Carmel, she kept those pages relating to the great mission held in Lent 1899. In amongst all the detail of the talks given during the mission are two significant entries for 20th and 26th March [9]. Her quiet unassuming and gentle sister, Guite, had discussed Elizabeth’s wish to enter Carmel with her mother. At first with little success; Guite tried a second time. Mme Catez told Elizabeth that she could enter Carmel when she was 21 [10]. Elizabeth’s joy exploded in a 29 verse poem [11]; the title unusually just being the significant date: 26th March 1899.
LETTERS FROM CARMEL – 1903
General
In the run-up to Blessed Elizabeth’s Centenary, a lot can be learned about her by looking at some of her day - to - day activities exactly 100 years ago, i.e., in 1903, as recorded in her letters and poems. Do remember that many letters have been lost.
The web site: http://www.ourgardenofcarmel.org/e3tl.html gives details of the summer and winter horaria in Carmel, as well as a chronology of her life. At this time of year her daily routine would have followed the ‘winter horarium’. [This is a lovely site and well worth an extended visit: go to the address given then navigate back to the main site for Blessed Elizabeth; there, navigate to ‘On the Carmelite Vocation’ which is a collection of her thoughts neatly merged into a very readable article.] The summer horarium is from L168 which also includes information on work and ‘our cell [12]. Some important events at the end of 1903 and the beginning of 1904, both in the Church and to her, are listed.
October - December ... 1903
Anniversary of death of her Father (1887)
2
Oct
Encyc. ‘Restore all things in Christ’
4
Motherhood of Blessed Virgin Mary
11
St Teresa of Jesus, Guite’s Wedding (1902)
15
All Saints
1
Nov
All Souls
2
Dedication of the church of St John Lateran
9
Feast Day ... St Elizabeth of Hungary
19
Presentation of BVM ... Renewal of Vows
21
St John of the Cross
24
First Sunday of Advent
29
Immaculate Conception ... Clothing (1901)
8
Dec
Christmas Day
25
January - February ... 1904
Octave of the Nativity of Our Lord
1
Jan
... New Year’s Day ... Circumcision
1
... Veneration of Our Blessed Lady
1
... Good wishes, presents
1
Epiphany ... Profession (1903)
10
St Agnes ... Veiling (1903)
21
L191 ... first mention of “Laudem Gloriae”
25
St Francis of Sales, Feast Day of Framboise
29
Purification, Encyc. ‘Ad illum diem’
2
Feb
Dogma of Immaculate Conception (1854)
15
Ash Wednesday
17
First Sunday of Lent
21
Although Sr Elizabeth was professed at the beginning of the year, she would remain for 3 years in the novitiate under the guidance of Mother Germaine, who was both Prioress and Novice Mistress. Sister Elizabeth was indeed fortunate to have as Prioress, a nun who declared her aim: ‘To keep as perfectly as possible, in the wholly apostolic spirit of our Holy Mother, this Rule and these Constitutions which she has left us, after herself having observed them with such great perfection’ [I3].
Sr Elizabeth’s health was giving cause for concern, prior to her profession the trials of purgation weighed heavily on her [14]. Then, living an austere life through the severe winter with no heating in the cell only served to protract her weak state. Mme Angles remarked on the state of her health, but Sr Elizabeth made light of this, replying that she was healthy [15].
The on-going religious persecution must have adversely affected her health. For example: there could have been political difficulties at her profession over the ‘republican leanings’ of Bishop Le Nordez but these were fortuitously avoided at the last minute; and she was also aware that there was no preached retreat in 1903, because the preacher was in exile. For background reading on some of these issues, see [16].
Despite these problems, Sr Elizabeth’s sense of purpose enabled her, once professed, to continue her pursuit of religious perfection and the realization of her name Elizabeth - house of God in which the Holy Trinity dwells [17]. She was well pleased with her discovery of St Paul, and had begun reading the works of our Holy Father, St John of the Cross - mention is made of the Spiritual Canticle in L185. Her love of St Paul is evidenced by the many quotes in her letters.
1903 saw the death of Pope Leo XIII and the election in August of Pope Pius X. The first encyclical of the new Pontiff, ‘Restore all things in Christ’, made a big impression on Sr Elizabeth. The title is from (Eph. 1:10) and this may have drawn her attention to the words ‘laudem gloriae’ In (Eph. 1:6,12), which appeared in her letters for the first time in January 1904 [18].
Her letters, though from a century ago, are like a breath of fresh air; even to a casual reader, their vitality can be infectious. For 1903, there are 33 letters [L152-L185] and 2 poems [P87, P88] extant. Typically, the contents were a mix of interest in the daily happenings of her correspondents, the making of a spiritual point, gratitude for presents to Carmel, and requests to supply the needs of Carmel for forthcoming feast days. Sr Elizabeth was remarkably astute in adapting the tenor of a letter, particularly its spiritual content, both to the occasion and to the recipient She was never patronizing, and her interest in the activities of friends she knew before entry into Carmel, as well as those introduced to her by Mother Germaine, was loving, compassionate [19] and sincere. There was no place in her spirituality for solipsism. Whenever the occasion allowed, her letters were an effusion of love and joy [20].
Sr Elizabeth believed that the grille did not separate her from these friends but, in reality, brought them closer together because their souls were linked, and could communicate continuously, through the indwelling triune God. In developing this theme, she explained how essential ‘love’ was
- ‘Divine Love’ being the key. ‘He (God) iiiss standing at the door of your heart.. He is waiting. . Open to Him’[21], and God is Love - the Love which unites souls on earth [22] ‘through Him, with Him, and in Him’. This was the message of [L179] and [L183].
Sr Elizabeth often alluded to this belief in letters to her Mother. There are 2 very special letters in 1903 in which Sr Elizabeth both: ‘remembered’ her Mother giving permission in 1899 for the daughter to enter Carmel; and unequivocally stated, that if permission had not been given, then she would have continued to live at home with her Mother [23].
Her letters do give the lie to the idea that in Carmel she was cut off, or had cut herself off, from the world. She was an example of perfect detachment: the sentiments expressed in her letters came from her heart, yet fidelity to her Rule (and implicit obedience to Mother Prioress, [24]) came before all else [25]. By chance some of her letters happen to illustrate this, with ingenuous remarks bringing the letters to an abrupt close, such as: ‘hearing the bell for Matins’ [26]; ‘having to ring the bell’ [27]; and in one letter, having written about a possible vocation, and the feast day of her Patron Saint, she abruptly changed the subject to the sale of raffle tickets [28]!
As well as writing about their own interests, some of her correspondents were curious about life in Carmel. What did she find to do there all day? Reading between the lines of her replies and remembering the social class to which many belonged, it was a perfectly natural question. Unfortunately, although Sr Elizabeth provided an ‘honest answer, this could have appeared evasive to the recipient through lack of understanding. In [L168] she wrote, ‘that a Carmelite has only one thing to do: to love and pray’ [29]. She explained the aspect of ‘love’ a little more in [L169]; while in [L181] written on the feast of the Presentation during which Elizabeth renewed her vows, and which was a holiday in Carmel, there was a slightly different picture, ‘A Carmelite’s days are so filled minute to minute by prayer and work. .’ [30]. While in [L184] she confirmed that, ‘The essence of our life in Carmel is this divine, wholly intimate union; it is what makes our solitude so precious. .‘ [31].
Examination of the spiritual content of Sr Elizabeth’s letters and notebooks, and the superlative scholarship of Fr De Meester, have enabled him to quantify the extent of her spiritual reading. There are many instances in Sr Elizabeth’s letters of where she uses a turn of phrase or a word that is characteristic of a specific spiritual writer, or of someone now a Saint in heaven. This is not to belittle in anyway the importance of her writings. As an example: a picture taken shortly after Elizabeth entered Carmel [32] shows Mother Germaine holding a copy of ‘The Story of a Soul’, and it was known to be widely read in the novitiate. It is not surprising then, that the influence of St Thérèse of Lisieux is noted in Sr Elizabeth’s letters [33]. Similarly, her letters contain words and expressions typical of Père Vallée (spiritual director), [34]; whom she much admired, ‘so deep and so luminous’ [35].
As one might expect, Sr Elizabeth’s spirituality also included the Saints both in their writings here on earth and their joy in heaven. Our Holy Father, St John of the Cross, has been mentioned previously. In letters around the time of Lent [36] Mary Magdalen is referred to. Again, near to November 19th, the feast day of her Patron Saint, mention is made [37] of St Elizabeth of Hungary. As a child Elizabeth must have read about the life of her Patron Saint, yet in [L194] she remarked that she was reading about her. Sr Elizabeth dearly loved Our Lord’s words to St Elizabeth, that “if you want to be with Me, I want to be with you” [38]. In [L184] she was writing to a kindred spirit, who enjoyed the same Patron Saint.
Any overview of Sr Elizabeth’s letters from this period would be incomplete without reference being made to a gem, which could well be called her ‘hymn of love’. This is to be found hidden in a letter to Canon Angles, the trusted friend of her childhood [39]. The original is in [S133].
I love to think that it is for Him that I have left everything;
it is so good to give when one loves, and I love this God so much
who is jealous to have me all for Himself!
I feel so much love in my soul! He is in me, and I am in Him.
I have only to love Him, to let myself be loved, all of the time:
to wake in Love, to move in Love, to sleep in Love,
my soul in His Soul, my heart in His Heart,
so that through contact with Him, He purifies me,
and delivers me from my misery.
I only you knew how this engulfs me!
Undoubtedly eclipsed by her masterly ‘Prayer to the Trinity’, it is nevertheless beautiful. Comparing this outpouring of her soul with a much shorter effusion of joy [40] written shortly after her profession, gives some idea of just how much her spiritual love has deepened over the year. The hymn shows a Pauline influence, and she also uses this type of ‘repetitive emphasis’ in her Spiritual Treatise, ‘Heaven in Faith’, written towards the end of her life.
The phrase ‘c’est si bon’ (line 2) is used again by Sr Elizabeth [41] to interpret the Pauline phrase ‘surpasses all understanding’ (depasse tout sentiment); ‘it is so good’ understates a feeling Elizabeth would have experienced (say) when playing a concert score on the piano, as a teenager, from the heart to express the ineffable.
Divine Indwelling
‘In Sr Elizabeth’s visits to the parlour and In her letters, as in all contacts with her Mother, her sister, her friends, and indeed, all who came near her, she unobtrusively but persistently carried on her apostolate of the Divine Presence within the soul’ [42].
Mother Germaine observed that there was a deceptive simplicity in Sr Elizabeth’s utterances [43], and it is important to keep this in mind when reading her letters. A good illustration is in a letter to Framboise:” I will ask that He fuse our two hearts together. I believe that He did that a long time ago, but love is something infinite, and you can always go further in infinity!” (Her’!’!) [44]. Her letters do not abound with phrases such as, ‘the indwelling of the Holy Trinity’, even though this was a central plank of her Spiritual Doctrine. Instead she chose to interpret for her readers Biblical phrases appropriate to the occasion.
Sr Elizabeth’s familiarity (1903) with St John’s Gospel is evident from its easy and regular usage. She referred to the ‘death of Lazarus’ for compassionate letters [45]; to Ch. 17 of the ‘discourse at the Last Supper’ for the political troubles [46]; and to Ch. 15 of the same discourse to further her spiritual message [47]. In [L183], and [L185], her use of Ch. 4, the ‘woman at the well’, was right for each occasion.
Sr Elizabeth’s use of texts from St Paul was just beginning in 1903. Prior to this, she had referred to St Paul’s Epistles at the time of her clothing (8th December 1901), then there was a gap of a year until her profession (11/21st January 1903) before any further reference was made. This paucity was corrected with some 35 direct/indirect references (not necessarily quotes) in 1903; albeit 11 were in [L191] where she referred to St Paul’s ‘magnificent epistles’ . Although most references were to Ephesians, her favourite was from Galatians (2:20), ‘I live, no longer I, but Christ lives in me’, which she had inscribed on her Crucifix in Latin [48]
The letters of this time indicate the development of her mysticism. Almost casually, she remarked [49] that it had become impossible to put her inner joy into words [50]. In another example, although she had previously asked Priests to wash her in the Blood of the Lamb as they celebrated Holy Mass, she had become more specific [51]. Again, she wrote: “He hollows out abysses in my soul, abysses He alone can fill, and to do that He leads me into deep silence that I never want to leave again.” [52]. It is of interest that [L169] and [L190] were written to the trusted friend of her childhood, Canon Angles.
Advent and Christmas Season
“The Divine little One..was going to be born no longer in the crib, but in my soul, in our souls, for He is truly Emmanuel, “God with us.””[53]
The absence of parlour visits and letters, and changes in the celebration of Holy Mass, emphasized for everyone an approaching feast day. Advent: a time of waiting, of expectation, of preparation, culminating in the final days before the Vigil with those uplifting greater ‘O’ antiphons. Something of Sr Elizabeth’s expectation and preparation is revealed in her poem for Christmas [54]. It was the custom in Carmel to write poetry in celebration of major feasts and Sr Elizabeth wrote a poem for each Christmas that she was in Carmel. Written from the heart, her poem brought together many of the ideas that she had explored in letters during the year, along with her thoughts on the Nativity. She linked her name, ‘Elizabeth’ - ‘House of God’ ,with Divine indwelling, referring to its profound mystery; attention was given to Our Blessed Mother as a ‘House of God’; and mystical ideas abounded. A dynamic translation of her poem is available [55].
Sr Elizabeth’s post-Christmas letters reveal very little about the celebration of the twin feasts of Christmas and Epiphany. She referred to the Vigil in [L187], and was more specific about her joy at the Nativity and her general love for the time of year in [L190]. Her love of participating in the ceremonial of Carmel was remarked on by Mother Germaine in Souvenirs [56]. Undoubtedly, visitors to the parlour would have been able to judge for themselves her deep, and abiding, love for everything associated with time of year. New Year’s Day was a time for exchanging gifts and Blessings and the Carmel was no exception. [L189] is a nice letter, in which Sr Elizabeth thanked her Mother for New Year’s gifts.
As noted, information on the celebration of Epiphany is sparse, and it is necessary to examine letters for 1905 to learn that it was the custom of Carmel to celebrate the feast of the Kings on 6th January and not on the Sunday. In [L221], Guite was given precise instructions on the food required for that day, and warned not to get the date wrong! [57].
“Dieu soit béni de donner ces trésors de grâce au Carmel ! [1]
“I am not worthy to suffer that for You”[2]
BACKGROUND
Introduction.
Side-by-side with an outward show of gaiety, love of travel, enjoyment of friends, and striving for perfection at the conservatoire; Elizabeth Catez had a soundly-based hidden-life, to which only a few were privy. The intention, in this update, is to focus on the place of sorrow and suffering in that life. How did sorrow and suffering impinge on Elizabeth’s early life? What was her attitude towards sorrow and suffering in her own life and in the lives of other people?
Trying to answer these questions is rather like trying to fit the pieces of a jig-saw, without seeing a picture of the completed puzzle, and knowing that many of the pieces have been lost! The majority of useful information, in translation, is in Jennifer Moorcroft’s book [HMH]. One might have expected Père Philipon [MPA] to have included more detail about Elizabeth’s early life. Apparently, some detail was included in the original draft of the book, but pages had to be removed to shorten its length. In a wide ranging overview of this topic, Fr De Meester rightly hints [3] that account must be taken of conditions prevailing at the time in which Elizabeth lived, so as to place one’s self in her century, if her life is to be appreciated. With this in mind various topics, apparently unconnected with the main theme, are first examined; followed by an attempt to assemble as much of the jig-saw as is credible.
Dijon, circa 1895.
The family moved to Dijon in 1882, living in the Rue Lamartine at the edge of town [4]. When Joseph Catez died (1887) the family moved 2km across the town to the Rue Prieur de la Côte d’Or [5] which happened to be in close proximity to the Carmel and near to the Convent of The Good Shepherd. In a contemporary guide book (1895) Dijon was described as a fortified town 270 km SE of Paris, and an important railway centre. The surrounding countryside was beautiful, while the town streets were broad with numerous open squares, the old walls providing tasteful boulevards. There were numerous public buildings and the architectural beauty of Elizabeth’s parish church, Saint-Michel, was mentioned [ http://www.ot-dijon.fr/galerie-photos/saint-michel.jpg ]. The town possessed a handsome theatre, a rich museum, and a well-endowed library. It was the seat of an académie with faculties of law, science, and letters. It also boasted a theological seminary, an academy of art, and conservatoire of music. The population in 1891 was 61,300. It was estimated that about half of the population nationwide were engaged in agriculture.
Everyday things which are common place now; were either dreams yet to be realised or insufficiently developed to be available to the general public. For example: travel was by train or horse drawn vehicle; the motor car was in its infancy and there were no aeroplanes. Balloons were unreliable for travel: the novelty of balloon ascents had not diminished and these were fun. Although telegraphy was available, few places had been linked by the necessary cables, and radio (or wireless) was still in the laboratory. It is the same story with the cinema: films were being made in America in 1895 but ‘cinemas’ were years away. Medicine was still in infancy. Anaesthesia had been used for 60 years, but its effects were not properly understood [6]. Pasteur ‘s pioneering work was being applied by Lister to the development of antiseptics and was making surgery more trustworthy.
Religion, circa 1895.
The title requires explanation to avoid seeming pretentious. The principal aim here is to quantify, against an historical background, difficulties being experienced by Holy Mother Church along with some of the differences in the approach of the laity to religious practices (excluding dogma and doctrine) when compared with today. Obviously, this can only be in terms of generalities and, at times, no more than conjecture.
The revolution of 1789 saw the emergence onto centre stage of a vociferous minority with no respect for God, the Church, the Aristocracy, or for life itself. Many rural areas of France experienced little effect of the revolution and its aftermath, while some cities and towns were devastated. The bloody events (e.g., Martyrs of Compiègne) and the terror may have been short-lived, but the new-found ideology was spreading. In those places that were affected, the century that followed did little to stabilize life. Republic followed republic, then the monarchy was re-established, only to be replaced by the 3rd Republic. The neighbourhood of Dijon saw considerable fighting in the disastrous Franco-German war and the ultimate surrender of the town, after many casualties, to the German forces. Despite these unsettled conditions, French academics were making notable contributions to the emerging sciences of the 19th Century.
The increase in knowledge inevitably fuelled challenges to the teaching of Holy mother Church on a wider front now than simply from the philosophers. So many advances in knowledge had been made in such a short time, it was natural to think that God was simply a myth to cover up lack of knowledge. What an opportunity for that vociferous minority to seek to discredit Holy Mother Church; to reduce, nay even to destroy, her authority over, and influence of, the mainstream of life; and to reshape her as a vassal of human agencies. Rome was aware of these problems, as encyclicals of Pope Leo XIII show. For example: ‘Nobilissima Gallorum Gens’ (On the Religious question in France) 1884 and ‘Au Milieu des Sollicitudes’ (On Church and State in France) 1892. Of course, other countries were not exempt from error. In 1907 Pope Pius X in the Decree Lamentabili condemned and proscribed 65 errors. By way of example, error No. 38 stated, ’The doctrine of the expiatory death of Christ is not evangelical but solely Pauline.’ This is interesting in view of Sr Elizabeth’s extensive use of St Paul’s Epistles, but no more than that. Her interpretation and use of St Paul’s Epistles was sound.
The majority of men and women living in rural France remained staunchly Catholic, and many had joined prayer groups that through their devotion to Our Lady of the Rosary and to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, Holy Mother Church might be strengthened in her trials. The loss of so many of the Hierarchy was not without danger, and a growing laxity of the faithful did not escape the Pope’s attention. In a hard hitting encyclical Laetitiae Sanctae’, (September 1893) he targeted the growing selfishness in society, including a distaste for suffering; dealt with their ‘obligations’; and encouraged the Rosary as a powerful antidote. Do read the ncyclical at http://www.newadvent.org/docs/le13ls.htm . It may be conjecture to suppose that Elizabeth would have heard about the encyclical in a Sunday sermon or in conversation with her parish priest; but note the date of the encyclical and compare this with the date of her first extant mention of ‘suffering’ in a poem: – [P4], August 1894.
Sections of the encyclical almost appear to have been tailor-made for her: Christ was prepared to die, regardless of personal suffering for mankind. He exhibited fortitude in suffering as did His Blessed Mother. This we witness to with the eyes of faith. The Pope then emphasized that Christ would be waiting in heaven for each and everyone of us, if we would but respond positively to His call, by repeating Jesus’ promise: ‘I go to prepare a place for you’ (Jn 14:2) and by noting the words of St Thomas ‘Let us also go, that we may die with Him’ (Jn 11:16), in praise of ordinary men and women who followed in His footsteps. It is fascinating to ponder the thought that ‘Laetitiae Sanctae’ is timeless, whereas the participation of the laity has changed so much ‘in thought, word, and deed’.
Their entrenched view was of a ‘God of Fear’, a ‘God of Vengeance’; that man, because of his fallen nature: firstly, was unable to avoid sin and therefore likely to be ‘sent’ to hell; and secondly, was destined to suffer, however good a life he had tried to lead – ‘If we have received good things at the hand of God, why should we not receive evil?’ (Job 2:10) How easy it would be, with this attitude, for the average churchgoer either to just keep up appearances or to simply lapse. Some went to Church on Sundays and Holy days because it was a mortal sin not to. For the same reason, some went to confession just once a year and received the Eucharist at Easter. Confession could be daunting because one’s examen was based on the unequivocal ‘Thou shalt not. . ‘ . It would be quite unfair not to put the other side of the picture. Love was not unknown! Less than half a century earlier, Lacordaire, one of France’s most gifted preachers had said, ‘Love pardons everything save one thing only, which is, not to be loved’ [7]. Many believed this yet subscribed to the notion of a ‘God of Fear’; were at pains to be always in a ‘state of grace’ (as far as they knew); went to confession regularly; and Communicated each Sunday. Elizabeth communicated each Sunday and as often as she could during the week [8]. These people were the regulars at prayer groups and hungered for missions.
Having painted a rather severe picture of ‘church going’, it may seem strange that French people had a great love for Our Blessed Lady, for the Saints, and very particularly for the Holy Souls. This was manifest in the attention given to statues, holy pictures and relics. Again it would be unfair to omit mention of spiritual reading in the home: this would have certainly included the lives of favourite saints, the Scriptures and the use of meditative exercises given in prayer books.
Comment is appropriate on church buildings. Entering a church, even in rural France, one could be rendered speechless by the unexpected. Many interiors were breathtaking with their substantial masonry, architecture, and decoration. Frequently the antiquity was awesome, confirming a feeling of timelessness and of a ‘House of God’. The sense of the ‘holy’ was given further expression in some churches by the rood and a screen, separating the Sanctuary and choir from the congregation. The Altar was in close proximity to the end wall of the Sanctuary and backed by a reredos. The Priest celebrated Holy Mass in Latin, with his back to the congregation.
ELIZABETH CATEZ
Introduction.
Marie Rolland knew sorrow early in life when her fiancé was killed in the Franco-German war. She became deeply religious and at times, apparently, her views were ‘rather Jansenistic’ [9]. This is hardly surprising in view of the tragedy which had befallen her and the fact that some areas of France had been in the grips of Jansenism only a century earlier. Nine years had elapsed, when she met and married a man of equally deep faith, Joseph Catez. It was into this background that two daughters, Elizabeth and Marguerite, were born. Joseph was to remain in the army for several more years and so the early education of the girls was strongly influenced by their Mother [10]. Without any doubt, their religious upbringing would have been sound. Who taught Elizabeth to kneel and pray, and made such an impression, that Elizabeth decided that her doll had to kneel and pray as well, if it was not her Mother [11]? One wonders what Elizabeth had been told about the Crucifix [12]! Both Elizabeth and Marguerite would have needed their Mother’s love, and strength, to help them deal with the deaths in quick succession of their Grandfather and Father. Our Lord must have loved Marie Catez very much to have given her such a heavy cross: having married 9 years after the death of her first fiancé; she then lost her Mother, Father, and husband all in the space of 5 years.
Spiritual Reading.
Elizabeth’s letters indicate that her Mother taught her about St Teresa of Avila [13] and encouraged reading [14]. In keeping with the times, the family would have read selected passages from Scripture [15], and there would have been instruction in the Catechism. Ideas about what she read (prior to Carmel), in addition to ‘The Way of Perfection’ [16], are merely conjecture, but it would be surprising if her reading had not included the popular ‘Story of a Soul’ (published in 1898); as well as ‘lives’ of her name Saint, Elizabeth of Hungary[17], and the Saint on whose feast-day she was baptized, Mary Magdalen. [P25] is a short poem about Joan of Arc [18].
Even as a young girl, it would not have escaped Elizabeth’s notice that both Saints had one thing in common: they ended their lives in considerable hardship. Elizabeth, a widow and having had to give up her children, ministered to the poor with boundless charity in Marburg; while Mary, according to tradition, lived the life of a hermit in the wilderness of Provence, France. Neither would it have escaped her attention that St Teresa had referred to the practice of the Saints in offering their sufferings to the Lord [19] but, at first, would she have understood why they loved suffering? She was yet to realise that it was not for the self-centred reason of making satisfaction for their sins (or for the sins of others), but purely for love of God that their nothingness might glorify Him [20]. Further indulgence in conjecture, would suggest that the authors of the ‘lives’, which Elizabeth read, could have been Montalembert and Lacordaire , respectively. She quotes from Montalembert in [21], and Fr DeMeester gives the reference [22] as the Belgian edition of the book – whether Elizabeth read the book or had simply heard the quotation is unknown [23]. Evidence in support of ‘Lacordaire’ is in her letters: Elizabeth quoted Lacordaire on 3 occasions, each traceable to Lacordaire’s book. In [L227], written in Carmel, the quotation was loose; whereas in [L75], written prior to Carmel, the quotation was exact. As a teenager then, would she have known: that Lacordaire’s two favourite Saints were also Elizabeth of Hungary and Mary Magdalen; of his love of self-imposed suffering; and of his painful death after long illness [24]? Finally, would she have known as she knelt in the beautiful parish church of Saint-Michel in Dijon making her first confession, that, almost 80 years earlier Lacordaire had knelt in the same church making his first confession and to the end of his life he never forgot the experience? Her Mother could have mentioned it, because she was old enough to remember the respect with which this great and forthright preacher was held.
Hidden Life.
Biographers are agreed that Elizabeth’s hidden-life was very private, known only to her family and one or two special friends [25]. She lived a ‘double life’, outwardly appearing very sociable and relaxed, enjoying the pleasures of Dijon and long summer holidays; while inwardly she struggled with an insatiable desire to love Love, feeding this desire through prayer[26], and pilgrimages to shrines of Our Blessed Lady in France [27], and visits to Carmel. It may be inferred from [28] that at least as early as 1893 Elizabeth wished suffering to be one expression of that love, following the example of St Teresa. In [P47], written on the seventh anniversary of her First Holy Communion she wrote: “since that hour my one desire has been to give my life, to repay in some little way His mighty love,” [29]. The implied date is 1891, but the poem was written 7 years after the event.
How natural, as her beliefs took shape, that family tragedies, sufferings of Saints familiar to her, evils in society, and (possibly) the mask of compliant gaiety, would trigger ‘a period of scruples. . . and an inner darkness’ [30]. Our Blessed Lord allowed this trial to happen, that she might give herself the more selflessly to His Love.(Rom.8:14) Sensibly she sought guidance from her parish Priest, and Our Lord led her by the hand to take another step up the ladder of Love [31]. It may have been soon after this when she heard about the encyclical ‘Laetitiae Sanctae’, encouraging the Rosary and condemning the deterioration in social standards. Her interest would have heightened at those sections on suffering, and the future life; as these impinged on her own developing beliefs. At about this time she began to write short single verse poems giving sincere expression to heart-felt feelings. For the 2 months (11th Aug. to 30th Sept 1894) there are 18 poems extant. In one of these, [P4], entitled ‘To Jesus’, she gives unequivocal expression to her determination to suffer ‘with’ Him – the 3rd line of the poem reads, “With you I want to suffer” [32]. This is the earliest extant record (1894) in her poems of her wish to suffer.
The Wish to Suffer.
Elizabeth’s desire to enter Carmel was now an ever-present thought. Hadn’t St Teresa explained how every nun should wish to carry the cross [33] and, in Carmel, she expected to be able to give expression to her wish to suffer [34] – “Oh why keep me in suspense when I long to suffer?”(1896)[35]. She made frequent visits to the Dijon Carmel; and holidays which took her far away from it, were a nightmare to her. Then the blow fell, she was 17 years old, when her Mother stopped her visits to the Carmel [36]. Clearly devastated, her relief was in offering this trial to her Lord [37] and, thereafter, she placed her vocation in the hands of Our Blessed Lady. Although it took all of her self-control, she carried on with her life as if nothing had happened. Naturally, her sister Guite saw the strain that Elizabeth was under, and from time to time so did her friends. This strain is also apparent in some of her poetry. In [P55] written for the octave of the forthcoming feast of the Sacred-Heart in June 1898, there are 2 lines in which she demanded to share the Cross, “Because I am thirsty! Oh yes, a thirst to suffer; without the Cross I prefer to die” (a reference to Jn7:37) [38] In [P57] written on the actual feast-day, “Such is my most intimate vow. . . .to suffer and to die”. This linking of suffering and death, after Our Holy Mother’s couplet, ‘Either to die or to suffer’, is also found in [P39] (‘After Communion’, 1897), and in [P43] (‘To Mary Immaculate’,1897). In [P39] she wrote, “To suffer for You, Oh what great joy”. While in [P43] she offers to suffer as a victim for sinners. Her masterpiece to ‘suffering’ is undoubtedly her ‘Hymn to Suffering’ [P46], written on, and inspired by the Liturgy of Good Friday (1898) [39]. Dynamic translations of verses 1,2, and 4 are given in [40], but her real passion was saved for the last 2 lines of the complete poem, “I will be strong, always strong, in order to love, to suffer all my life!” [41].
ASSEMBLING THE PIECES
Making a ‘sacrifice’ of human life, or some possession, to a god in propitiation, or homage, is as old as time and is part of the human psyche. The Old Testament abounds with examples; while in the New Testament the offering of the ‘Lamb of God’ to God, and its aftermath, are central to our Faith. Against this backdrop Elizabeth’s desire to sacrifice herself, to ‘suffer’, is pieced together.
Like most ‘well to do’ children at the end of the 19th Century she would have learned at her Mother’s knee that there was pleasure in receiving, but more pleasure in giving. At her Mother’s knee she quickly learned that misbehaviour resulted in ‘suffering’; suffering the loss of her good-night kiss [42]. As she grew up she would instinctively copy her parent’s behaviour in different situations, to help her make friends and play with other children [43]. She had a difficult time dealing with the trauma of her Father’s death: although numbed by the experience, her Mother was at hand to help her cope with the sorrow and suffering.
Not long after this she was prepared for her First Confession. She was 7 years old – the ‘age of reason’ – and would have learned by heart parts of the Catechism, along with explanations appropriate to her age. Her Mother would have told her about Jesus, which would be reinforced by the Catechetical instruction; and about sin, maybe saying, “Don’t hurt Jesus, He loves you”. The Holy Spirit operating through the Parish Priest and her Mother was obviously guiding proceedings, because Elizabeth always spoke of her First Confession as her ‘Conversion’. Mother Germaine realised just how important this was to her [44]. [L128] contains the only reference by Elizabeth to her ‘Conversion’: in her letters she wrote, “let yourself be taken in the Master’s nets, it is so good there.” [45].
Elizabeth must have found it very good. What a lovely thought: she could not wait for the day of her First Holy Communion, so eager was she to receive Jesus. Again, her mother must have laid a sound foundation, prior to her ‘official’ preparation, because throughout her life, Elizabeth acknowledged that she could never thank her Mother enough for preparing the ‘house of God’ to receive God. Well, Jesus came to her and Jesus ‘fed’ her. Elizabeth’s feelings that day were of pure selfless joy – what could she give Jesus, who had given Himself to her? The answer is in [P47] – her life; and that is what she gave, little-by-little for the rest of her days. Jesus had fed her, Elizabeth the ‘House of God’; she became more aware of the reality of her vocation, a vocation in Carmel, to become a nun, to suffer for Jesus. It is easy to see how this line of thinking would have needed trammelling. Yes, Elizabeth loved Jesus: ‘she wanted’ . . . Gently, Jesus began to show her, through the Parish Priest, that if she really did love Him then, that love had to be as ‘He wanted’: where, when and how. Nobody learns this lesson overnight. Little-by-little, Elizabeth did learn it, but it took several years. Her ideas about giving herself, of suffering with Him, were grounded on bedrock and would grow.
The examples given thus far, have been of ‘suffering’ which happened directly to her. In no way, was she lacking in compassion over the sufferings of other people. These could affect her deeply. Examples serve to illustrate this. Although only 7 years old when her Father died, she was aware of her Mother’s distress [46]. Then a year later, she wrote to her Mother clearly concerned that she had been a bit of a handful! [47]. Again, during a visit to the poor she was overcome with compassion and had to leave [48]. Now, two similar examples both addressed to Our Blessed Mother: she often prayed for the conversion of M. Chapuis [49] offering to accept any suffering in support of her petition [50]; and she offered to suffer as a victim for sinners [51]. Lastly, her Mother’s ill-health, and worry about Elizabeth wanting to become a nun, affected her deeply [52].
Jesus’ severest test in her young life, so far, lay in her Mother’s embargo on visiting Carmel, imposed when she was 17 years old. One can sense her distress from the way in which St Teresa’s couplet was versed in several poems. There were periods of calm as other poems of the same period show. How, then, did she react to the added test of her Mother’s illness? She talked the problem over with Our Blessed Mother, and placed her trust in her. In all her distress, she poured out her young heart in a deeply sincere poem, ‘O Master, whom I adore’[53](December 1898). This is more than a poem, it is a mature prayer in typical Teresian style: a loving conversation with God, deferent, yet forthright.
Elizabeth’s love pours out unchecked as she abases herself before Jesus, her life: “O Master whom I adore”, “I love You”, “I bless You”, “I thank You”. She tells Him of her Gethsemane which has lasted over a year, linking it to His own agony in the garden. As Jesus prayed to the Father, “. .not as I will, but as Thou wilt.” (Matt.26:39b); Elizabeth says, “Since You wish that it is so”. As Jesus wept; Elizabeth weeps in her disquiet and begs Jesus to sanctify “her burning tears”. She turns now to her compassion and love for her Mother, reminding Him of His love for His Mother. Only she doesn’t use the word ‘love’, she goes further – “Oh You cherished . . . so much” – ‘cherish’, the nearest expression there is of the ineffable. On this basis, He must be aware of her “bitter distress” at not being able to discuss her worries, her anxieties, with her Mother; or to let her see the tears, especially now that her Mother is ill. Despite all her weeping and sorrow, and because of her continuing deep love and compassion, Elizabeth is at pains not to let her own wishes further upset her Mother. Her charity shines through her tears, she is not insensitive to the hurt she has caused her “first love”, ”Maman”. In typical Teresian style she tells Jesus how she has “happily sacrificed all” for Him, adding poignantly, “even my mother”, because He had called her all those years ago. She knows that it is the ‘better part’: using such phrases as ‘transitory world’, and ‘all passes on this sad earth’; reminders, again of St Teresa, and of similar words she will repeat to her sisters just before her death [54].
All but spent, Elizabeth tells Jesus that she is aware that He is testing her with yet “another suffering”. She has accepted that to love Him truly can never be on her terms, but must be on His; and that she may have to continue carrying her cross in the world. Having exhibited her Charity and her Faith, Elizabeth Catez concludes this great poem with her Hope as she pleads her cause before “her Spouse, her Saviour, and her King”.
“Jesus, my Strength, my Hope, . . . . I want to carry (my cross) with You”.
COMMENT
A quotation from Père Chocarne, OP the biographer of Lacordaire, expresses the feeling of the site owner so well at this time. At the point where he had revealed Lacordaire’s love of suffering, he continued as follows.
“I tremble before what I feel to be the soul of this great and holy life. I have placed my hand on the heart of my father, and have laid it bare at that deep and mysterious spot where only the eye of God, and those few chosen friends, have ever before penetrated” [55].
Elizabeth’s diary may be likened to a gem, flawed perhaps, nevertheless beyond price. Only part of her diary is extant [3], chiefly a record of the great mission (1899) and a subsequent retreat (1900); there are no entries between these two events, except for one made a few days after the ending of the mission. The diary is important because it provides a ‘snapshot’: of the religious practices at the turn of the 19th/20th century; and of Elizabeth’s spirituality at the age of 18/19 years. Thereby, ‘throwing some light on’ the meaning to Elizabeth of ‘suffering’ and the ‘Cross’ in her early life, although not enough to visualize a completed jig-saw [4]. Clearly Elizabeth, herself, wanted to keep a record of all the talks and prayers [5].
The diary is available in French [6] and Spanish [7]: the source is the same, but the presentations are different. These notes are based chiefly on the French presentation. The entries are similar to those likely to be found in any intimate diary. During days of the mission and retreat Elizabeth included her summary of the talks, followed by reflections and prayers. She would often add notes about seeing the Preacher for further discussion etc. Elizabeth was able to attend most of the talks [8], but sometimes unable to give more than a brief summary: through lack of time [9] or not hearing the Preacher clearly [10]. Fr De Meester has added many informative footnotes to the diary, and has written a masterful introduction [11].
Her extant letters from this period [L21-L26] were all addressed to a distant relation of almost the same age [12]. During the two periods covered by the diary it is noteworthy that Elizabeth only wrote poetry. Noteworthy on two counts: during the mission and motivated by it, she wrote 4 poems [P67-P70], but she had ceased writing poetry before the start of the retreat [13]; during the subsequent retreat she wrote two personal notes of ‘reflection and prayer’ [PN5, PN6]. No notes from a similar retreat a year earlier were included by her in the diary. However, she did mark the end of that earlier retreat, and the mission, with poems [14].
These notes give no more than a brief overview of the diary. No attempt has been made to include the religious content of either the mission or the retreat; concentrating, instead, on Elizabeth’s reflections and prayers with a view to learning more about Elizabeth the ‘person’. In effect, one is eavesdropping on her intimate conversations with Our Father, Jesus, and ‘Marie’. It is important to realise this when noting her form of address. When speaking with Jesus, Elizabeth usually assumed the mantle of Bride-to-be, or Bride, and referred to Him as her Beloved Bridegroom. Her determination in these conversations, and imitation of the Teresian style, is evident. For example, when asking Our Father why He has not provided the miracle that she has asked for, she finishes by saying: ’Que faut-il souffrir? Parlez.’ [15]! Our Blessed Mother received the same treatment [16]. The diary begins with 10 entries made before the start of the mission. Comparing these with entries taken at random during the mission, shows that while her prayers had become more impassioned, her objectivity was unimpaired. Sincerity and very deep love were Elizabeth’s stock-in-trade throughout.
These diary conversations highlight known passionate feelings: her deep love of Our Father, Jesus, and Marie; her love for her family; her desire to become a nun and her Mother’s reticence; the firm conviction of a vocation; and her desire to suffer. Her passionate desire to save souls, if not too evident before, became very clear with the advent of the mission. Repetition was always a trait [17], and the diary teems with it, which was fortunate because some facets of her spiritual doctrine from the missing pages would have been repeated in the extant portion. In fact, she did copy material from the torn out pages [18]. Repetition is unavoidable in any portrayal of the ‘Elizabeth’ of the ‘Diary’, and the present notes are no exception.
CARMEL AND VOCATION
At the beginning of the diary Elizabeth is still forbidden by her Mother to visit Carmel. The ban is a mortification [19], nothing more; nowhere in her diary is there any criticism of her Mother whom she loved dearly [20]. In her own mind there is no doubt of a vocation [21]. Never could she repay her debt of gratitude for being chosen by Him [22]. In time Jesus would arrange everything [23]; but, for now, He requires her to wait and to strive for spiritual perfection in the world [24]. To wait: ah, but for how long, she asks Jesus [25]? She reminds Him how she had given Him her heart; that her life has no meaning without Him; that she is prepared to die for love of Him [26]. She asks her Beloved [27] to accept her; already wearing the mantle of Bride [28] in the ‘carmel of her soul’
Maybe it will not be too long before she can cement the relationship in Carmel, making her vows [29] and losing herself in the cloister [30]. She reflects on this day to come, every time she hears the lovely Te Deum intoned during the mission [31]. Then she will be with Him, happy, and ready to endure anything [32]; just like any of St Teresa’s daughters who find their joy in the way of the Cross, their nun’s habits, and their poverty [33]. Suddenly she trembles, ‘What if …’. Could there be a Bride more unworthy [34]? Who is she, what has she to offer? She is so weak, she is nothing – the most pathetic of creatures [35]. Perhaps, but Jesus is there at her side to support her, to be her strength [36]; and her confidence returns. Again she thanks Him for her beautiful vocation [37], and she tells Him that she is ready for His call when it comes: to comfort, to love and to suffer [38] . To suffer not least, she knows, in leaving her Mother and sister [39]. Here she uses the word ‘cherish’ as she did in P64 [40] when referring to Jesus Love for His Mother.
Elizabeth is aware that in spite of her firm conviction of the presence of a vocation, she must also convince her Parish Priest. During the mission she will meet with several Priests to discuss points raised in their talks, and, in turn, they will give their opinions about whether God has bestowed on her the precious gift of a vocation [41]. She thanks God for one Priest who is certain of a true vocation [42]. During one of the evening talks, she happened to be sitting near to a statue of Our Blessed Mother, so she turned, as ever, to Our Lady of Perpetual Succour for help [43]. Elizabeth admits that she has asked for so much from Our Lady, but that doesn’t prevent her from asking for Marie’s intercession once more [44]. After all, she says, she is well aware that Our Lady knows all about her desire to become a nun and has encouraged her in this [45]; that Jesus wants Elizabeth all to Himself; and that when, finally, she does give up everything – specifically her Mother and sister – Jesus will deal with the aching void [46].
Elizabeth must have been unaware that her distress, her longing to enter Carmel, had been accurately assessed by her sister, because she was reduced to tears when Guite told her that she had talked with their Maman about her vocation. She told her that it was obvious Elizabeth’s future happiness was at stake; she asked that her Mother would lift her ban; and she promised that if Elizabeth entered Carmel that she (Guite) would look after her Mother. The Mother refused her plea. Nevertheless, Elizabeth asked Our Blessed Lady to reward Guite for her selfless act [47]. She had, of course, overlooked Guite’s tenacity, and when Guite tried again she succeeded. The Mother agreed that Elizabeth could enter Carmel when she was 21 [48].
There is a long entry in the diary in which the family scene is described, following the Mother’s change of heart [49]. All three were in tears as one might expect. Elizabeth’s were tears of deep compassion and of joy. In his introduction to the diary Fr De Meester wrote that, just from reading her diary, the characteristic of Elizabeth which came across was ‘la droiture’ [50], and that is very true of this particular entry. For the record, Elizabeth never forgot this selfless act by Guite.
So everything has changed; only 2 years, then Carmel - so soon! She pictures the happy day in her mind and has already begun to enjoy the scene [51]. Elizabeth thinks she must be dreaming [52]. Now that a date has been fixed, she intends to strive even harder to be a worthy Bride of Christ. She asks her Lord to strip her ruthlessly of anything which displeases Him [53], so as to prepare her for entry into Carmel [54]. Even her conversations with Him change: she believes that her Beloved finds pleasure in a host of light praises and expressions of gratitude for the precious gift of a vocation [55], this mark of His Love which he only gives to special friends [56]. How is it that Jesus can forgive all her sins and then shower her with so many graces? In those so very sweet tears she listens to Him in the depths of her soul counselling her, she hears the Master addressing her as His daughter, telling her that she is needed [57]. Well, she awaits the day with abandonment [58]; the day, not far off, when she will belong to Him; and she feels that He is waiting for that day also [59].
It is interesting to note that some of the ideas contained in her letters from Carmel were already in her mind at the time of the mission. For example, in L324 she wrote “let us look at the Crucified and be conformed to that divine Image” [60]. In her diary she dreams of becoming a Carmelite crucified in His Image [61]. Again, in L133 written to a young teenage friend, “So (the Carmelite) hungers for silence that she may always listen…” [62]. In the diary she begs God to establish solitude in her soul [63].
JESUS
Elizabeth loves Jesus, and He loves her. The entries in her diary: her reflections on the talks and her prayers; are those of someone in love. In his Introduction to her Diary, Fr De Meester has examined the forms of address used by Elizabeth with Our Blessed Lord [64]. The usage of two of these – ‘Beloved’ [65], and ‘Bridegroom’ [66] together with ‘Beloved Bridegroom’ [67], is listed in the References. An additional one, used but once, yet the most beautiful, is ‘Mystery of Love’ [68].
Yes, Elizabeth loves Jesus: she is jealous of others who also love Him so much [69]; His Love has replaced all other love [70]; she has given Him her heart to look after [71] that it might be consumed in the furnace of His Love [72]; and she only lives for Him [73]. She knows that there is no need to be in Carmel, in order to be with Him [74]; to love Him so much, that she could die of love [75]; to love Him so much, that she is prepared to die for love [76]; to love Him so much, that He might forget that there are those who do not love Him [77].
Elizabeth wants Jesus to be aware of her love in everyday life. She wants to prove her love for Him to her own satisfaction: through sacrifice [78]; through prayer [79]; through giving Him souls [80]. In her desire to comfort Him, she is prepared to put up with anything [81]: to make her life an expiation for her own sins and those of others [82]; to joyfully embrace suffering [83]; to share His Cross [84]. As P. Philipon remarks, “God hears such prayers”. [85]. Ultimately she wants to prove her love for Him in the cloister [86]. She is hopeful that these practices will cause Jesus to look only on her love for Him [87]; and overlook how sinful and unworthy she is of His Love [88].
Finally, Elizabeth wants other people, the whole world, to burn with love for Jesus and to experience His Love in their lives [89]. She pleads forgiveness for sinners, so that no one is left out [90].
MARY
The mission was officially dedicated to Our Lady of Perpetual-Succour [91], and Elizabeth placed the retreat, which followed, under her protection [92]. Elizabeth obviously enjoyed the mission, this wonder of God’s Love [93]. She would have discussed the daily topics with her Mother and sister, and particularly with the Preachers [94]. This was so natural to her, that there is very little recorded in her diary about these discussions. The same is true about discussions with her heavenly Mother, Marie. She prayed every day [95] to Our Lady of Perpetual-Succour in the parish church and, doubtless, at home as well.
What did she pray about? During the mission there were 3 talks on Marie: ‘Trust in Marie’ [96], ‘Devotion to Marie’ [97], and ’Our Lady of the Seven Sorrows’ [98]. The few diary entries, which refer to Marie, can be divided into 2 groups: love and devotion to Marie as Our Mother - “Behold thy Mother” (Jn 29:27) - witnessing to her deep love for her earthly Mother; and Marie as a ‘facilitator’ – “They have no wine” (Jn 1:3) – the Mother of her Beloved Bridegroom.
Elizabeth records how she always felt close to Marie as a Mother [99]; and she regularly renews her dedication to her, particularly on her feast days [100]. She was sad at the ending of the mission, ‘All is finished’, but already savouring the future joys with Jesus in Carmel [101]; then she brings Marie into her prayer. She expresses her love and cannot thank her enough: devoting herself to her, asking for her support in her love for Jesus, and promising to pray to her every day [102]. In tears by now, she turns back to Jesus to complete her prayer [103]. Marie is asked to help her Mother and sister in their sorrow as she prepares for Carmel [104]; to continue as the guardian of her purity [105]; and to obtain perseverance for her to become ‘completely perfect’ and holy [106].
Marie, as facilitator, is frequently petitioned to obtain miracles, and also credited with having obtained them, in pursuance of her vocation [107] and in the on-going conversion of Mr Chapuis [108]. She prays determinedly for the conversion of souls. To begin with she petitions Marie with confidence [109]; she echoes the ‘memorare’ telling Marie that she has never let any one down and cannot refuse her now [110]. When Marie doesn’t appear to hear (exaucer) her prayers, she invites Our Blessed Mother to name her price: suffering, even her life, for souls [111].
MOTHER AND SISTER
Elizabeth loves her Mother and her sister dearly [112] but she loves Jesus more [113]. She thanks God for giving her a Mother who can be either tender or severe as the occasion demands [114]. The Mother and two daughters have always been very close so she is well aware of the hurt that will be caused by her entry into Carmel, not only to them [115], but also to herself [116]. The ban on visiting Carmel is irksome to her; but she does not think of defying her Mother over this anymore than she would have done either when her Mother put a stop to her daughter missing meals as an act of mortification [117] or when she was not in agreement with Elizabeth’s desire for a change of spiritual director [118]. Elizabeth is equally reticent about discussing the lifting of the ban with her Mother as this could exacerbate her illness [119]. At the time of the mission the Mother’s illness was in remission [120], but Elizabeth knew that the likelihood of complete recovery was remote which meant that entry into Carmel might not be possible during her Mother’s lifetime [121]. Her sister was not only aware of these difficulties, she realised that Elizabeth’s health was being affected by the worry; and so she approached the Mother, not once but twice, with the result that the ban was lifted and Elizabeth had her Mother’s agreement to enter Carmel in 2 years time.
Guite had promised her Mother that she would take Elizabeth’s place and look after her [122]. While the Mother accepted this in principle, she clearly felt that Guite was too young and so ‘in conscience’ Elizabeth should wait awhile before entering Carmel. Elizabeth thanks God for giving her a ‘beloved’ Mother who is ‘so perfect’ [123]. She never forgot Guite’s selfless offer to take her place and bestows the accolade of ‘devotion personified’ on her small dear sister [124]. She also commends her sister to Marie, asking her to reward Guite [125].
Naturally Elizabeth thanks Marie profusely not only for her Mother’s change of heart [126], but also the manner in which she has accepted the position. She asks Marie to pray for her dear Maman [127] and for herself [128]. She tells Jesus there are no words which adequately convey her gratitude [129]; she entreats Him to mitigate her Mother’s hurt and sorrow [130]; to give her the support, courage and strength that she will need both now and in 2 years time [131].
When Guite broached the subject of Elizabeth’s entry into Carmel, her Mother said that she thought Elizabeth had cooled off as the Priest had not spoken of this recently [132]. Now her Mother was no fool, she must have known how much time Elizabeth was spending in prayer both at the church and at home, and, since the Priest would have known also and about the Mother’s ban on visits to Carmel, would he be likely to open the subject himself? Mother Germaine notes that Mme Catez had read of Elizabeth’s continued longing for Carmel in the Diary [133]. Another intriguing question arises from the belief that the Mother apparently held Jansenist beliefs [134]: if this were correct, wouldn’t a vocation have meant that the daughter was one of the ‘elect’, which would surely have pleased her Mother? What if the Mother’s beliefs were not all that strong? It would explain marriage plans to ensure her daughter’s future happiness [135]. Clearly the Priest would not get involved [136], and Elizabeth is quite indifferent [137]. In her poem [P69], written on the same day, Elizabeth gives her heart to Jesus and tells Him not to give it back to her! Reading the diary entries which record the details of the marriage plans [138], and of the talk on the Passion given on the Evening of the same day [139], one can only conclude that Elizabeth truly is quite indifferent to these plans. Once more her love for her Mother is not affected, and she asks Our Lady of Perpetual-Succour to help her Mother who now recognises her daughter’s singleness of purpose [140].
JOY (REJOICE), AND HAPPINESS
One of the lasting impressions after reading the diary is that Elizabeth, the teenager, was a happy person at heart. In that happiness, had she not assumed the mantle of a Bride [141]; with Jesus as Bridegroom and Marie as her Mother in heaven. Maybe there was anguish over her entry into Carmel and the conversion of Mr Chapuis, but having discussed her problems with Our Blessed Lady, she left these with her, confident of the outcome. Broadly comparing the changing circumstances over the period of the diary: while Elizabeth was overjoyed at having the ban on visits to Carmel lifted, yet disappointed not to have received the long awaited miracle requested from Our Blessed Mother; both her joy and happiness increased overall ‘with this wonder of His Love’ [142]. Surely, one would have questioned the sincerity of the entries had there any other impression.
The words ‘joy’ (‘rejoice’) and ‘happiness’ as used by her, and applied to her, appear in about a third of her reflections and prayers. Her very first entry in the diary tells of her joy in sacrifice in the on-going struggle for perfection [143]. From a later entry it becomes clear that the ‘sacrifice’ referred to, is the immolation of her will [144]: ‘agendo contra’ [145]. Her joy originated with Jesus and was but a shadow of that joy, nevertheless, it was selflessly offered back to Him [146]. As one would expect her sweetest joys centred on Jesus: belonging to Him [147]; a progressively deeper sacramental ‘union’ with Him through more frequent Holy Communion [148]; the rescue of lost souls, even if she does not participate directly [149]; so many communicants on Easter Sunday, when she wept tears of joy for Him [150]. Her greatest joys, though, must surely have lain in Confession: first, as a pre-requisite to receiving her Beloved in Holy Communion [151]; and second, with the opportunities it afforded for spiritual direction [152]. Her choice of confessor obviously affected her joy [153]. Second only to this was the effusion of joy occasioned by prayer. One can open the pages of the diary at random and always find her rejoicing in prayer; in the opportunities for intimate conversations with Jesus [154] and Marie [155]. She also loved to participate in the Divine Office [156].
Mention has been made of her joy in frequent Holy Communion. It does appear that Elizabeth instinctively attempted to differentiate in her diary entries between the intention to receive, and the actual reception. She refers to ‘not having’ the happiness to receive [157] and the happiness of going to receive [158]; but the joy of actually receiving [159]. However, she does use happiness to describe her feelings after having received Jesus [160].
The remaining entries are about things which gave, or could have given, her happiness in relation to her spirituality: to give up everything in the world for Jesus [161]; to suffer, sharing the pain of Jesus [162]; to assist in the return of souls to Jesus [163]; and to prepare for Carmel with Jesus [164]. Happiness can range from relatively simple contentment: for example, anticipating her future happiness in Carmel [165]; to something little short of joy: for example, the intoxicating happiness of the precious gift of a vocation and the newly-acquired freedom to pursue it [166]. With diary entries, there is bound to be doubt as to where, ‘on a scale of 1-10’, Elizabeth’s happiness lay, or, even, if she was using the words ‘joie’ and ‘bonheur’ with the knowledge that joy is selfless [167]. One must simply applaud the frankness and the deep sense of love which ‘speak’ to the reader. In one entry she writes that she is ‘so happy that her heart overflows with joy’ [168]!
MORTIFICATION
The introduction to a 19th century Prayer Book (circa 1895) reads as follows. “Remember, Christian soul, that thou hast this day, and every day of thy life: - God to glorify; Jesus to imitate; The angels and saints to invoke; A soul to save; A body to mortify; Sins to expiate; Virtues to acquire; Hell to avoid; Heaven to gain; Eternity to prepare for; Time to profit of; Neighbours to edify; The world to despise; Devils to combat; Passions to subdue; Death perhaps to suffer;and Judgment to undergo.” In the Catechism, current at that time, Answer ‘332’ reads: - “The four last things to be ever remembered are Death, Judgement, Hell and Heaven”.
Fr De Meester refers to the ‘fear of Judgement’ prevalent at the time of the mission [169], while Jennifer Moorcroft writes: “… the talks contained a good deal of hellfire and damnation, … “ [170]. It is against this background that Elizabeth attended the mission and made her retreat. Two things are to her credit: she recorded the talks factually uncoloured by her own views; and she had wisdom enough to discuss these with a Preacher and to record the outcome, where the content ‘disturbed’ her [171]. It is also useful that Elizabeth commenced her diary about a month before the start of the mission, because the influence of the mission on her reflections, petitions, and loving conversations, can be assessed by comparison with the early entries. Admittedly, those early entries could have been influenced by the fact that she had ended her January retreat only the day before her first entry in the diary. This is unlikely, because her record of that retreat in a poem [172] is so calm in comparison with a previous poem written in adoration of her Master [173].
Broadly, those diary entries loosely classified as ‘mortification’ are few and far between and are not unduly influenced by the mission. The same is not true for ‘faults’. There are two clusters: one coincident with the talks on ‘the devil, the world, and the flesh’ (site owner’s classification), which take place before the lifting of the ban on visits to Carmel [174]; the other coincident with the talks in Holy Week [175]. Otherwise the entries are, again, few and far between.
One of the earliest examples of mortification in the diary is Elizabeth’s attempt to do without a morning meal and to offer this to God [176]. It didn’t last long because Maman found out [177]! With one eye on Carmel, Elizabeth was enamoured by the physical mortification practiced by nuns [178]. However, she realised that there were other forms of self-denial and she writes: “it is absolutely necessary for me to reach that stage at which I may always, and in things, do the contrary of my own will.” [179]; that is, in her quest for sanctity when her will would become one with that of her Master [180]. There is an added impetus to her quest because, as she naively puts it, if she becomes very good then she will be allowed to receive her Master daily [181]. Interior mortification interested her because she had been reading about this in St Teresa’s Works [182], and it had also been mentioned by her spiritual director [183]. Later on, she reveals that self-denial was one of the resolutions that she renewed every year [184].
It would be wrong to leave the impression that Elizabeth thought that she could immolate her will and practice self-denial unaided. She constantly asks Jesus, through prayer and Holy Communion [185] for strength in the struggles ahead [186] and for grace, and in one entry she more-or-less tells Him that since He has chosen her, that He has to keep her pure [187]! In her desire for union, her desire that Jesus will want to ‘be with her’ [188], she invites Him to strip her soul of everything that is not to His liking [189] For her age, she has a remarkably clear picture of the impediments to Jesus’ Love: she must be detached from all things ‘ici-bas’ [190]; and there is no place for pride ‘be it ever so humble!’ [191]. Her detachment from worldly pleasures has had to be very much a part of her hidden life up until now. Even in her diary she records how she must miss a part of the mission so as to dine with friends [192] but that she would rather be at the mission. These worldly pleasures do nothing for her [193].
It would be wrong also to leave the impression that Our Lady of Perpetual-Succour has no place in Elizabeth’s quest for sanctity. Marie is the perfect exemplar of perfection, purity, humility, detachment and perseverance. From childhood Elizabeth has always discussed everything with her. Who better than Marie to obtain the necessary graces to achieve perfection and perseverance [194]; to ask Jesus to send her humiliations [195]; and to maintain the guard on her purity [196] – “to Marie’s special protection Elizabeth must have owed the purity of her life.” [197].
FAULTS
There are only 2 diary entries on faults ahead of those relating to the mission. In the first Elizabeth refers to her dominant fault and her method of dealing with it: she offers Him her distress, and then listens in her soul to His counsel [198]. In the second entry Elizabeth is reflecting on St Teresa’s teaching on human love. She had been unaware of the difference between human love and heavenly Love; but now that the veil has been lifted, she admits to loving creatures far too much and for selfish reasons, and she affirms her intention to change this [199].
During the first week of the mission there were talks on penance, mortal sin, confession and death. Elizabeth records how much she enjoyed the talk on the various forms that penance may take [200], the point being made that one does not have to be a nun in order to practice mortification and penance [201]. The other talks made a deep impression on her and her tears flow freely as she pleads forgiveness for her sins [202]. In this respect, Elizabeth’s report on confession should not be overlooked, because the Preacher compared the attitudes of ministers in 3 different sects/religions: Protestant, Jansenist, and Catholic. So, once again, regardless of any Jansenist tendencies her Mother might have, Elizabeth was made freshly aware of the Jansenist teaching that she might not be one of the elect [203].
The parish church had been beautifully prepared for the Friday evening talk on death, with a large catafalque and lots of candles in honour of the souls in Purgatory [204]. The Preacher enacted an imaginary conversation between God and a person on the point of death. Elizabeth must have become completely wrapped up in it, because at the end she realised that her fear of the Judgement had vanished, giving way to a deep calm [205]. In her subsequent conversation with Jesus, she asks Jesus whether He could condemn someone who has given up everything for Him, who lives only for Him, regardless of whether she deserves hell. She finishes defiantly, but with love – ‘she is your Bride’ [206]! As P. Philipon remarks, “her pure soul never knew the stain of mortal sin” [207].
As the talks begin to focus properly on faults, there is a cluster of appropriate prayers [208], and her diary entries become more emotional, but no less sincere. She expresses her deep sorrow for her own sins [209], and those of the world [210]. Initially she maintains her confident stance, telling Jesus that they are going to be happy together, that she will never leave Him, and that He cannot leave her because He Loves her [211]. This confidence is all the more surprising because of the ‘horrible’ talk on Judgement which preceded her prayer [212]. However, it is all change, as she prepares for a general confession. She hasn’t made a general confession since her First Holy Communion, and the thought of the multitude of her offences terrifies her. How ever can Jesus stand the sight of her? She restores her confidence a little by telling Jesus that it is He who wants her as His Bride! Throughout she cries for forgiveness (pardon), over and over again. [213]. In the event, her confession restores confidence. It appears that she is more concerned over her purity than her other many sins and is grateful for the reassurance that she had not sinned in this respect [214].
As the talks look at different forms of worldly sin, her prayers pick these up. She thanks God for having spared her the temptations of bad books [215], and vanity [216]. She abhors entertainments [217] and pleasures [218], and longs for the day when the Master’s call will come, but for now, she pleads, they are a necessary part of her life in the world. Only with her diary entries for love of one’s neighbour, is there a sense that Elizabeth feels she has been remiss in the past and there is room for improvement [219].
At the start of Holy week, the talks concentrate on Divine love, the Holy Mass, piety and perseverance, with the Passion of Christ treated in detail later in the week. This Passion Sunday would forever live in Elizabeth’s memory: it was the day that Guite threw caution to the winds and tackled her Mother again; it was the day that the ban was lifted over visits to Carmel and entry into the Religious life. This says a lot about how Elizabeth regarded her vocation: she poured out her heart in a very long poem [220] and then gave herself wholeheartedly to the content of the talks. She wrote a short ‘sincere’ poem [221] in commemoration of Good Friday. In her diary there is another cluster of entries [222]: she confesses her weakness and tepidity [223]; she abases herself as a bad creature [224] and generally pleads for forgiveness [225].
In her diary entries for the subsequent retreat on the Crucifix, she again pleads for forgiveness [226], but she is less emotional than during the mission and her conversations are more balanced. She is overjoyed at having made a good confession on the Thursday Evening, and she is literally bubbling over with excitement in her conversation with the Master who spoils her [227]. She admits to being bad and to being a sinner, but she stresses just how much she loves Our Blessed Lord [228]. Confident in her love, she defiantly invites Him to at least admit that she does some good on earth [229]!
PRAYER
Worship
Elizabeth loved the ceremonial of church worship [230]. In her diary she writes of the impressive opening ceremonies for the mission [231]; and of the preparation of the church in remembrance of the Holy souls in Purgatory [232]. She contributed to the ceremonial by singing in the choir [233]. She must have spent many hours in prayer at her parish church, she mentions: attendance at vespers [234] and compline [235]; prayer before the Blessed Sacrament [236] – Perpetual Adoration [237], 40hours [238]; and prayer before the statue of Our Lady of Perpetual-Succour [239].
Prayer.
During the retreat attended previous to the mission, Elizabeth realised that the nature of her prayer was changing. She seemed to lose contact with the outside world, and found herself listening to God in her soul. The only word she can find to describe the feeling is ‘ecstasy’ [240]. Her ‘other-worldliness’ had been noticed when she was in the church [241], and later in the mission, “A friend noticed her kneeling, motionless and totally absorbed, for an hour and a half.” [242]. She remarks a week later that these new experiences are making vocal prayer quite difficult [243]. It must be added, but not in any way to derogate these diary entries, that Elizabeth was reading St Teresa of Avila on Contemplative prayer at the time [244]. On reading Elizabeth’s reflections and prayers during the mission, one can only remark that her gift for vocal prayer did not appear to have been affected by the change. There were 3 talks on prayer and 2 talks on meditation. Actually, one of the latter was confusing to Elisabeth and she determined to speak with the Preacher. The outcome is discussed by Jennifer Moorcroft [245].
Elizabeth writes of her desire to make her life one of continual prayer [246]; to live in the shade of His Sacred Heart [247]; and she did just that. Her diary teems with prayers of love, praise and petition. Petitions for the success of the mission [248]; for the conversion of the owner (Mr. Chapuis) of their house [249]; for poor sinners who have lost their way, for whom she begs God to moderate His ire [250]; for lost souls to accept the grace of conversion [251]; and for an increase in her own virtues [252]. In her inimitable way she tells God that she is not going to be put off, and intends to keep up her prayers until he listens to her [253]. Often under feigned exasperation she demands, “What more do you want to be touched?” [254]. In one entry addressing Our Father, she tells Him that He ought to be satisfied, seeing that all of the churches are full with people begging for grace! She prays for miracles, both for herself and for others, either directly to Jesus [255], or through Marie [256]. Marie is also asked, quite unashamedly, to grant her begging prayers [257].
Throughout her life she had great faith in the power of the novena both to Our Blessed Mother and to the saints, but more especially to Marie. There are two diary entries which record the ending of novenas to Our Blessed Mother, St Joseph and St Francis Xavier – all three for Mr Chapuis [258].
In one of the talks on sin the Preacher said that when anyone commits a mortal sin they are soaking their hands in the Blood of the Saviour [259]. The Precious Blood was mentioned again in one of the talks on the Holy Mass. The Preacher spoke of the Blood of God being on the Altar [260]. These remarks made an indelible impression on Elizabeth. In her reflective prayer Elizabeth invokes the Precious Blood in support of her petition for the conversation of Mr Chapuis [261]. A little while later on Good Friday, she enlarges on the earlier remark by writing that every human being is more-or-less soaked in the Blood of the Saviour [262]. In that same reflection she offers Jesus her life in the most moving of prayers, beginning: “I will return love for Love, blood for Blood, …” [263]. Comment would only detract from this outpouring. In letters from Carmel, Sr Elizabeth frequently asked Canon Angles to bathe her in Precious Blood in the Chalice when he celebrated Holy Mass [264].
As the intensity and the emotion associated with the mission abated and her spirituality deepened, so Elizabeth’s vocal prayers simplified. She writes about the use of short ejaculations – sweet nothings – in her prayers. She finds this more intimate and feels that her Beloved approves [265].
Towards mysticism
Elizabeth only used the word ‘ecstasy’ at the start of her diary before the mission began. There is no further suggestion of the change in the nature of her prayer until the Saturday of Passion Week, when she began using the word ‘union’ [266]. She then used it in 10 entries over the remainder of the diary. Based on the wording, the context in which it is used, and the assumed definitions of union [267]; 5 of these relate to natural (or intellectual) union [268]; and 4 to sacramental union [269]. There are other diary entries recording the receipt of Holy Communion, but with no mention of union [270]. One entry [271], may refer to perfect union (although not to the ‘mystical state’): here Elizabeth writes about ‘a more complete’ union and about a ‘cell’ in her soul. The idea of a cell is mentioned in several letters from Carmel [272], but there is a difference of ‘origin’: in the diary the construction of the cell is initiated by God, in the letters [273] by a human being in response to the Will of God.
There are 5 entries, including D140, [274] in which Elizabeth assumes that Jesus speaks in her soul [275] and she ‘listens’ [276]. P. Philipon records that Elizabeth had been experiencing strange phenomena in her soul, which she intended to discuss with her confessor [277]. These are similar to the 2 entries [278] at the beginning of the Diary in which the word ‘ecstasy’ appears. Note that P. Philipon does use the word ‘mystical’ unmistakably: “First mystical graces: retreat in January 1899” [279]; “first mystical intimations, when Elizabeth was nineteen”.(strictly, 18) [280].
CONFESSION, HOLY COMMUNION
At the end of the mission, Elizabeth asks Our blessed Lady to obtain for her the perseverance necessary to become perfect [281], then at the end of the retreat she tells Jesus that she wants to become so good… [282]. Naturally one associates these requests with her vocation, but there is an underlying reason: that she may receive Jesus in Holy Communion more often, and ultimately daily. A seemingly unusual reason in this day and age, but commonplace at the turn of the 19th/20th century in France, where the Parish Priest could determine the frequency with which one received Holy Communion. For Jansenism had not been killed off by the French Revolution [283]. In one of the mission talks on Confession, the Preacher condemned the frightful Jansenist doctrine that Jesus did not die for all mankind, only for the elect [284]. Fr De Meester refers to an ever-present Jansenist mentality [285]. He also refers to the practice then of receiving Holy Communion very soon after having been to Confession [286].
Elizabeth mentions going to Confession several times in her diary [287]. She had been advised to make an examen at night, and to note down the results in a pocket book [288] so as to discuss these with her confessor. Usually she manages to choose a confessor whom she admires spiritually [289], and often remarks on making a good confession [290] or being very satisfied [291]. These remarks are not sins of pride, for she is referring to the helpful spiritual direction which she has received [292]. Elizabeth appears to have made one general confession during the mission, the intention to do this resulting from a talk on death which really upset her [293]. She writes that it had been such a long time since she had made a general confession that she is terrified by the thought of all her sins. She chose her confessor thoughtfully and must have received great peace of mind, for there is only one remark on the outcome: that she had not sinned against holy purity [294].
When Elizabeth received her First Holy Communion she said ‘Jesus has fed me’ and she wept tears of joy [295]. No doubt she recalled this incident during the retreat, when the Preacher likened the soul to a desert, and recalled the words of Proverbs, ‘Come, eat my bread’ [296]. She also records in her diary that Jesus gives All to all: His merits, His sufferings, and Himself.” [297]. There was no equal to Holy Communion in this life for her [298]: at the conclusion of the diary she writes of the ‘summit of her happiness’ and ‘paradise on earth’ [299] when receiving Jesus. Every thought, every action, in her life proclaimed her deep and abiding love for Jesus. It was a happiness which Elizabeth believed had saddened her Mother, on one occasion before the mission, because it confirmed, yet again, that her daughter had received the call of God. With love for her Mother, Elizabeth offered this happiness to the Lord in joyful sacrifice [300].
Yes, the diary entries do confirm love, but there is an impression of ‘work to be done’: that love must be increased as she prepares for Carmel; that love must be increased to make up for the hurt caused by those who do not love Jesus. She wishes to make a holy preparation for Easter [301]; she wishes to help in the conversion of Mr Chapuis [302], and offers her Holy Communions for this purpose [303]; and, aware of her imperfections [304], she wishes to become ‘perfect’ so as to be allowed to receive Jesus every day [305].
'SHARING' THE CROSS
In her reflection on the Passion during Good Friday, Elizabeth thanks Jesus for hearing her prayer for a share of His Cross [306]. It is important to her because this is only given to His friends, and because this is a sign of predestination [307]. There is no record of what ‘predestination’ meant to Elizabeth at this age.
The entries in Elizabeth’s diary relating to the Cross are surprisingly few in number. During the mission, only in her reflection on the talk about ‘suffering’, does she echo the ‘message of the Cross’ immediately afterwards: to accept Jesus means that you also accept His Cross and His Crown of Thorns [308]. There is no sense of recrimination as she reminds Him that this is what she has been asking for such a long time, ‘I want only You and Your Cross’ [309]. It is implicit that ‘accepting’ the Cross means ‘sharing’ the Cross with Jesus. Elizabeth first asked to ‘share’ the Cross in a poem [310] written at the time 2 years earlier, when her mother had imposed a ban on her visits to Carmel. After that, ‘share’, and ‘sharing’, became favourite words [311], expressing her desire to participate in the Redemption. ‘Share’ is first used in her diary before the start of the mission [312] where she asks her Bridegroom for His Cross as she wants to share it with Him. She refers to the ban in her diary as an exile that is made bearable by being able to share the Cross [313]: she longs for Carmel as there is no longer anything for her in the world [314].
In a later talk on ‘sacrifice’, the idea of sharing the Cross was presented as essential to achieving true happiness [315]. This was referred to as, ‘the Way of the Cross’ [316]. Elizabeth includes the term twice in her prayers of intent following the closure of the mission. She petitions first Our Mother of Perpetual-Succour [317] and then her Bridegroom [318] for support ‘in’ this Way of the Cross. Addressing Marie she writes of her happiness in following (i.e., in suffering with) Jesus; and she tells Jesus that without the Cross (i.e. without suffering) she is unable to do anything. In an imaginary two-sided conversation; Jesus tells her that His support is essential and that she would falter without it [319]. Being powerless, to do anything without the support and strength given by Cross, is also found in the outpouring of her heart on Good Friday, together with the ejaculation, ‘Ave Crux, Spes Unica’ [320]. The latter had been quoted in French in a diary entry before the start of the mission [321]. At the time, she was well satisfied with her confession and overjoyed at the prospect of 4 days intimate conversation before the Blessed Sacrament. Having assumed the mantle of Bride, it was quite natural that she wanted to share the Cross with her Bridegroom [322].
In the diary, a request for His Cross is not always accompanied by a wish to share It, but there is no other interpretation. In her petitions, she may ‘beg for’ [323], ‘want’ [324], ‘want only’ [325], or ‘ask for’[326] His Cross. In one instance, she does write ‘give me, I beg’ Your Cross [327] , but at no time during the mission, does she seem to be as impassioned as when asking for souls. What appears to be a peremptory request is made following a talk on penitence: she writes ‘give me’; but she is demanding crosses, in the plural, to fulfil her penitential obligations and she then adds her wish to share these with Jesus [328]. Surprisingly, her previous mention of the Cross had been a month earlier on Ash Wednesday. There, the Cross is referred to as a supreme treasure reserved for her [329]!
Elizabeth makes only one reflection on the Cross during the retreat included at the end of her diary. Fr De Meester writes [330] that the Preacher P. Hoppenot had made a study of ‘the Cross’ and had written a book. He suggests that Elizabeth had probably copied passages from the book into her own memo book. This would account for the passion in her diary entry reflecting on the nailing to the Cross; and the tortures, and suffering, endured by her Beloved [331].
SUFFERING
Suffering.
P. Philipon writes that, “Her diary shows that she had early gained mastery over herself and over the childish nervousness that made her dread a visit to the dentist. She looked suffering in the face and even desired it eagerly”. [332]. In a letter to another aspirant to Carmel, Elizabeth wrote, “It is good to suffer for one, whom one loves” [333]. What did she understand ‘suffer’ to mean? Is the answer in her diary?
Elizabeth believes that God has invited her to suffer [334] for the sins of the world [335]. She accepts, wishing to suffer: to suffer with Jesus [336]; to work for His glory [337]; to do all for love of Jesus [338]. Her suffering must be in this world: although there is no suffering in heaven, she hopes to continue to work there for His glory [339]. Her suffering has to be selfless [340], and it has to be with Him [341]. It will be a good preparation for Carmel [342]: she is reading St Teresa’s ‘Way of Perfection’, from which she understands that every nun should wish to carry the Cross [343]. She wishes to offer her sufferings primarily for the conversion of souls [344]; in particular, for the soul of Mr Chapuis [345]. To make doubly sure of a successful outcome, she asks Marie to obtain further sufferings for her [346].
In her diary, Elizabeth gives 4 examples of actual ‘suffering’. She suffers, because Jesus is saddened by all the lost souls [347]. She suffers, when she reflects that her desire to become a nun is causing suffering to her Mother and sister [348]. She suffers in living a life which is no longer of any interest to her, and to which she must return when the mission and retreat are over: a life of vanity, visits, and parties [349]. Finally, she suffers in striving to achieve perfection in mortification and detachment: by doing that which is contrary of her own will in all things. [350]. One must assume that ‘sacrifice’ comes under the umbrella of suffering.
Sacrifice.
Elizabeth is avid for sacrifice [351]. The examples culled from her diary entries fall into 3 groups. First, when she is not able to share, to the full, the happiness of being with her Beloved Bridegroom: through not being allowed to receive Him every day [352] and on some other occasions [353]; or she believes, perhaps mistakenly, that this is upsetting her Mother [354]. Second, the thought of leaving her Mother and sister is a strain, even though she knows that Jesus will be there to fill the void [355]. Third, being prepared to give her life, as a holocaust in His image [356], to achieve some end for Jesus: the conversion of souls [357]; and the success of the mission [358]. Although her sacrifices are selfless [359] and entered into for love of Jesus, in her reflection on the mission talk about death [360], she pointedly asks Jesus whether He would condemn her in the Judgement [361]. This very sincere worry may have been occasioned by the undercurrent of Jansenism rife at the time.
Death.
Elizabeth’s offer to sacrifice her life for the success of the mission [362] could be dismissed as a trite remark. Even the same offer made in reparation for the insults to Our Divine Saviour, by mankind [363], could suffer the same fate. However, when she echoes St Teresa [364] in wishing to die a thousand deaths to save one precious soul [365], one begins to realise that Jesus has, indeed, wounded her heart [366], and how deep her love for Him really is [367]. She wants to be able to present the soul of Mr Chapuis to Jesus [368]: many more souls besides [369]; and she offers her life for this cause. She assumes that her lack of success is due to sinfulness: her love for Him is simply not enough. In her sorrow she cries for forgiveness [370] at having offended Him, repeating her anguished cry before her Crucified Lord on His Cross [371]. Death would be preferable to offending Him ‘even’ in venial sin [372].
Her maturing thought over the course of the mission and retreat has been remarked on elsewhere in these notes. This is noticeable following the retreat talk on Christian death, which she found so beautiful [373]. In her reflection, which is almost Pauline in thought, she is echoing an earlier poem [374] when she remarks that she dies by carrying the Master in her soul [375]. Earlier, she had written that in death she would not leave Him any more [376].
WINNING OF SOULS
One is bound to think that the talk on ‘Zeal for Souls’ was tailor-made for Elizabeth [377]. She thought that it was superb and her eyes were wet. She was being a little hard on herself by writing in her diary that this was one aspect of the ‘love of neighbour’ in which she could do better [378]. Elizabeth had a sincere desire to participate in the work of Redemption [379] through the conversion of souls [380], and the Preacher had said that one of the ways to do this was through sacrifice [381].
In her diary entries she records how she is haunted day and night [382] by Jesus’ thirst for souls [383]. She would have been well aware that while God always hears our prayers, when, and in what way, He answers them is His to choose. This point is made, because Elizabeth in her passionate interest writes figuratively, of bringing back souls [384], of gaining them [385], and of even asking God to give them to her [386] that she may give them to Jesus [387]. In one entry, she participates in an imaginary two-sided conversation with Jesus. She hurts; because the measure of His Love for souls was the Cross [388] – He asks her to satisfy His longing for souls; He acknowledges her devotion in this cause; and she questions whether Jesus’ call is even heard [389]. Excusing her boldness by reference to her Beloved Bridegroom, she addresses Our Father, asking Him what He needs to be touched [390], and asking for an answer [391]; the price is unimportant – she will pay anything [392]! Yes, Elizabeth really does mean ‘anything’ [393]: a lifetime of expatiation [394] – prayer [395]; offering Our Divine Saviour in Holy Communion [396]; enduring suffering [397], torment [398], and pain [399] in place of a soul [400]; and, if that is not enough, then she is prepared to die to release just one soul from bondage [401]. In another beautiful prayer she petitions God in the Name of my Jesus, referring to His sacrifice and to His Precious Blood [402].
There are some 24 relevant entries in her diary, and the previous paragraph illustrates Elizabeth’s penchant for repetition. It is interesting that 10 entries are made in the first 2 weeks; 6 entries made in Holy Week; and 8 in the remaining 3 weeks. It shows how in the absence of the mission or retreat, the conversion of souls is a part of Elizabeth’s prayer life. Even when she is immersed in a mission or retreat, her mind retains that focus, except when the exigencies of Holy Week come to the fore. Undoubtedly, the soul of the house owner (Mr Chapuis) is one that would give her joy [403] to present to Jesus. She is saying novenas [404] specifically for the conversion of his soul to Marie and the saints, and she has been delighted to see him twice at the mission [405]. Later her Mother speaks to him about going again [406]. Mischievously, Elizabeth ‘delights’ when he falls ill as this could mean that he will want a Priest. He doesn’t! For the record: he died 4 years later; and although there was doubt about his conversation, parish records showed that he had received the last rites [407].
Passiontide was an apposite time of year for Elizabeth to want to demonstrate by deeds that her deep love for Jesus [408] is not just words[409]. She had assumed the mantle of Bride-to-be and she fully intended to enact her role: by loving [410] and comforting [411] her Bridegroom [412] that He might forget the pain [413] of not being loved by those ‘lost’ soles [414], for whom she asks forgiveness [414]; and by assuming her part, however small [416] in the Redemption by sharing His Cross and suffering [417], while trying to get ‘lost’ souls to heed His call. She blames herself that Mr Chapuis has not heard the call; she takes the blame, writing that she has asked for such a lot, and not done that very well. Defiantly, she intends to continue praying until she is heard [418]! His ‘unhappiness’ is necessarily her unhappiness, likewise His joy is her joy; so she suggests on Easter Sunday that, for a while on this beautiful day, He should take comfort in those souls who have heeded His call and are filling the churches [419]. Easter Sunday was one of the occasions that Elisabeth ‘heard’ Jesus speaking in her soul while she listened [420]; Maundy Thursday was another [421].
She was always conscious of two ‘onlookers’! Humbly, yet at times defiantly, she addresses herself to the Father asking for guidance in her quest for souls [422] to give to her Bridegroom. While she admits to some self-interest [423], she tells the Father that He cannot refuse her anything that she wants for His Son [424]. The other onlooker is Marie, whom Elizabeth has always involved in her schemes [425]. As the mission is almost over her Mother is asked to hurry up the proceedings with regard to the conversion of Mr Chapuis and to obtain a miracle [426]; meanwhile Elizabeth is going to redouble her prayers to her [427].
SPIRITUALITY
Grace.
In her re-dedication to Jesus at the end of her retreat, Elizabeth writes that Jesus will fill her with the waters of His grace, likening herself to the woman at the well (Jn 4:14)[428]. Previously she had acknowledged and thanked Jesus for the many graces afforded her by the mission and retreat, and a retreat prior to the mission [429]. Graces given in trust [430], and not to be misused [431]. She admits that she cannot understand why He is so good to one who is so sinful [432]: His grace enabling her to see her faults [433]; and to realise that she is nothing, and can do nothing, without it [434].
While she does not ask for grace for ‘herself’, she has no hesitation in pleading for grace for the conversion of souls [435]. The sight of so many souls filling the churches and asking for grace, fills her with joy; and she pointedly asks Our Father if He is not satisfied by this sight [436]! Elizabeth is profuse in thanking Marie for obtaining grace, so unexpected, for her dear sister to speak with her Mother twice about the vocation; and for grace which will support both her Mother and sister in their sacrifice [437].
Spirituality.
If spirituality is understood to be the manner of thinking, living, and sanctifying one’s life [438], then Elizabeth’s diary is a record of her spirituality, and a separate section is superfluous. However, in some of the diary entries, she is unmistakably ‘nailing her colours to the mast’, and her spirituality is maturing as she does so.
Before the mission begins she picks up the phrase: “since He lives in me”, which is close enough to “If you abide in me”, (Jn 15:7, Douay); and then declares that she “intends to speak to Him” – St John gives, “you shall ask whatever you will”. Now Elizabeth had not received Holy Communion on this particular day [439]; so she may be referring to ‘Divine Indwelling’: although not, as yet, of the Most Holy Trinity.
One evening after praying before the statue of Our Lady of Perpetual-Succour for half an hour at the start of the second week of the mission, she discusses her vocation with Marie in the light of her Mother’s illness. She then turns in prayer to Jesus: His Will is her will, His Way is her way, she lives only for Him [440]. This has been thought through, there is no passion: it is unequivocal.
During Good Friday evening, Elizabeth listened to a talk on the Passion: she could not praise it enough [441]. Obviously the talk influenced her reflection and prayer, as it was intended to. She passionately declares her intention to live, to love, and to die with her Bridegroom. St Teresa’ s couplet, ‘suffer or die’ is quoted, and St Paul’s ‘quotidie morior’ (1Cor15:31) is paraphrased: perhaps, without her realising [442]. Note that part of this prayer is a copy of her prayer from the previous evening [443]; and that earlier on the Friday her Mother had told her about the marriage plan [444].
There was a 9 month gap between the end of the mission and the start of the retreat. During this time she wrote 4 (possibly 5) letters to the same recipient, 2 intimate notes, and 3 poems: the last that she would write before entry to Carmel. She visited Carmel and talked with the Prioress, Mother Marie of Jesus (‘Our Mother’).
Her spirituality matured noticeably as evidenced by the diary entries made during the retreat. She re-affirms her prayer to Jesus made earlier before the statue of Our Lady [445], but then adds the rider that whether she enters Carmel, or not, must be His decision and not hers [446]. She surrenders everything unequivocally – body, soul, desires, will – her very being, to Him [447]. She is also prepared to forego any consolations that she might have expected from the retreat, at His behest [448].
She is emotional in her final prayer because her dear friend, with whom she made her First Holy Communion, is leaving to become a nun [449]. She quotes Jesus’ remark to His Mother at Cana, ‘My hour is not yet come’ (Jn 2:4). Fr De Meester writes that it is certain Elizabeth ended her diary with entry [450], because of the blank pages which follow [451]. He could equally well have said, that it would have been impossible for her to add anything after the concluding oblation which came from her very soul. The last sentence in the diary also appears in the intimate note written on the same day [452].
“Thank God, for He has chosen so beautiful
a part for her, oh! if only you knew! ….” [1]
BACKGROUND
Introduction.
Previous updates (3,4) have traced Elizabeth Catez’ wish to suffer for Jesus, from her birth (1880) up to 1898, and then from January 1899 up to January 1900. ‘Suffering’ was assumed to cover compassion, adversity, anguish, pain (above a low level of intensity), tribulation, and trouble. The aim of the present update is to complete the picture further by consideration of the 28 months [2] prior to her entry into Carmel, and the 4½ years in Carmel until she entered the infirmary. Attention is given to her attitude to suffering and to the effect of this on her spirituality. Inevitably, reference must be made to her illness. The intention is to keep this brief, while referring the reader to the masterful presentation in HMH.
In Update 3 an overview was presented for the turn of the 19th/20th Century covering: Dijon and its amenities; the emergence of ‘aids’ which would ultimately improve the standard of living; and religious practices of the faithful. Paraphrasing Fr De Meester’s words: to appreciate Elizabeth, one should begin by appreciating the era in which she lived [3]. By the same token, since Elizabeth was now preparing for Carmel, and life in Carmel, one should meet those religious to whom she can turn for spiritual guidance: Father I.G. Vallée; Mother Marie of Jesus; and Mother Germaine of Jesus.
Father I.G.Vallée (1841-1927).
Fr Vallée was a tall man and his apparent size was increased by a voluminous Dominican habit, which frightened not a few religious! One biographer wrote that when he passed, even the convent cat stood to attention [4]! His tall stature often presented problems to those extern sisters who had to find a suitable bed for him. Needless to say, he was much loved by all of the nuns who listened to him preach. Although austere and forbidding while performing his priestly functions; thereafter he became quite relaxed, exhibiting a mischievous sense of humour [5]. It was said that the convents of the Carmelite nuns, more than those of the Dominicans, attracted and retained his apostolate [6].
Fr Vallée was the last Dominican novice to receive his habit from Lacordaire (1860). He was professed in 1861. From 1881-1904 he preached from many pulpits in France, and he had connections with several religious orders. As a result of the religious persecution in France he was expelled from the country in 1904 [7]. He returned to Paris in 1910, and died there in 1927. In an address to mark Fr Vallée’s jubilee in 1921, the preacher summarized his life in the 2 words: ‘meditation’ and ‘devotion’ [8]. In the noviciate he learned the need for prayer and he spent many hours ‘apparently lost in God’; he also learned the need for the interior discipline of silence ‘which leaves God freedom to act in us’. He read and studied assiduously, and later when giving retreats, he prepared each of his talks with extreme care and ‘never repeated a retreat again’, such was the extent of his knowledge [9]. Fr De Meester comments that he was “far less an original thinker than an eloquent preacher” [10]. He had the gift of opening large horizons to those whom he confirmed in the Strength and Peace of Christ [11].
In 1895 Fr Vallée became Prior of the Dominican Priory in Dijon; the same year that Mother Marie of Jesus was elected Prioress of the Carmel in Dijon. Fr Vallée became spiritual director for her, as well as for several of the nuns in the Carmel. Although he was an ascetic, he did not approve of nuns undertaking voluntary mortification. Their Rule was austere enough, if they lived strictly according to it, without the need to add other disciplines [12]. He counselled the Prioress to be close to God in the silences, to radiate the Rule, and to give herself unstintingly to her daughters. She was to them the Sacrament of God, and they must be able to see in her both Mother and authority [13].
The broad outline of his theology remained the same whether he spoke from a pulpit of a cathedral or in the humble confessional of a cloister [14]. Spiritual questions posed to him, he brought back to the principles of faith and then easily drew forth answers. He centred all spiritual life on just one point: the great love of God for man. Impassioned with Christ, as he was, he wanted every heart which approached Christ to abide in Him: forgetting itself completely, in the simplicity of God. He often expressed this as “walking to the step of God” [15]. "It is necessary, he said, that everywhere where you go, whatever you do, Christ is the light and the charity of the convent; it is necessary that one eats with Him, that one works with Him, that one shares recreation with Him, that one is all the time subject to His Will” [16]. He was devoted to Our Blessed Mother and one reads of him saying his rosary ‘in a loud voice’ in the confessional while waiting for penitents [17]; and of often saying a decade of the rosary, in order to refresh himself, during the preparation of material for a talk. He advised the nuns to adopt the practice of saying a decade of the rosary before the start of spiritual conferences [18].
Mother Marie of Jesus (1853 – 1917).
Who better to introduce the venerable Mother Marie of Jesus, than her spiritual director, Father Vallée, with comments made after her death. “It was at Dijon that I knew her. We had long talks, rejoicing in the mutual discoveries we made. I always found at the Carmelite convent a divine fountain of strength for my soul. Christ was so entirely the ‘wisdom’ and the ‘power’ of God for her, and with what perfect fidelity she corresponded to God’s designs. ‘Those whom Christ keeps, are well kept’“ [19].
From her early years Marie Mercier had given herself to God. At the age of 14 she had a supernatural experience of prayer during a Procession of the Rogation Days when, quite suddenly, she seemed to be filled with the very real presence of the Holy Trinity. Thereafter, she “always tried to withdraw into that depth where They dwell” [20], and “she sought for nothing apart from the vital element of prayer” [21]. Although she was of delicate health, she nevertheless entered Carmel on August 14th 1872 and was professed on June 12th 1874 – the Feast of the Sacred Heart. During her Profession, she again had a deep prayer experience in which ”she seemed to see Christ open His Heart to her with great Love” [22]. In 1881 Sister Marie of Jesus was elected as second in charge of the Noviciate, with the Prioress assuming overall charge. In 1889 she became Sub-Prioress and in 1895 Prioress. She remained Prioress at Dijon until 1901: in the last years, she was involved with the founding of a new convent at Paray-le-Monial and actually left Dijon in June 1901.
Mother Marie has been credited with introducing at least 50 postulants to the religious life [23], and an important part of her correspondence was addressed to aspirants [24]. She had an empathy with the young and the simplicity of her style endeared her to them. She met with the postulants (extra-muros) fairly often, that they might become familiar with the Carmelite life of silence, suffering and prayer [25]; as well as the peace of God’s house: monastic charity, pure joy in belonging to Jesus Christ, and the heavenly atmosphere of the cloisters [26] They had to promise to live as Mother Marie required [27], and report on any tasks which she had set for them. Her authority was firm and gentle; kind but allowing no compromise [28]. In the direction of souls she showed maturity and prudence – firmness, affection and indulgence. She told them that all spiritual life consisted of 2 things: forgetfulness of self and love. Hence they should look at God, more than themselves; and think more about love, than of sacrifice [29]; she encouraged them to love God very much, taking refuge within themselves, in that abyss of the soul where God is, and to be joyful with Him [30]. She required of them, a simple prayer, but a living prayer [31], an intimate conversation with an actual person [32]: to pray is to gaze on God [33], and she reminded them that we never draw near to God in prayer, but He gives us something [34]. In turn, they gave her a regular account of their prayer life [35], which she referred to as ‘the best of all graces [36].
Three words summarized her spiritual teaching: love, silence, humility. An idea of how the aspirants may have been introduced to that teaching may be gathered from some of the spiritual conferences which Mother Marie held with her daughters in Chapter, to illustrate how she lived the Carmelite Rule and Charism [37].
Love. In a Carmelite, Love takes the place of all else [38], for by exercising the light of faith you come to see nothing but God upon earth [39]: “He that loveth not, knoweth not God, for God is Love” (1 Jn 4:8). Christ is the source of Love [40]. He desires to take refuge in loving souls, and to rest in love with them. [41]. Love God, forget yourself [42]. Love only rests in the sacrifice of all [43]. Spiritual joy is the radiance of love, it is the flower of charity [44].
Adoration. To adore means more than submission, it means to love, and to do God’s Will with a religious worship, on your knees [45]. Obedience is the perfect act of adoration.
Nothingness. You are but nothingness, and only escape from that nothingness by adoption as a child of God [46]. If you become as nothing, you will easily find Him [47], for He is very close to you [48]. The more you bury yourself in the loving conviction that you are nothing, the more He will prepare divine surprises for you [49]. The soul sounds its own nothingness, and the nothingness of its works, so that it can attach itself to nothing that is not God [50].
Silence. Silence is love, or it is the prudence of love. It is the way you help God to fill you as He wills. Practice silence to get to know and love God [51]. You will often have an opportunity of being silent in little things. This silence in times of difficulty, suffering, and the mortification of self-love, sets you very free [52].
Humility. Humility is the silence of self [53]. If you draw back before an act of humility, it is that you have not seen Jesus Christ, you have not known Him, you have not known what it is to love Him [54].
Suffering. Suffering is a measure of love [55]. You must not suffer from your own suffering; you must learn to suffer outside of self with Our Crucified Lord [56]. He thought very little of His sufferings, but a great deal about His Love [57]. As a Carmelite, you go through all suffering, you go to look for Our Love.[58]; you endure suffering, by uniting it with the passion of Christ, and thinking only of that. [59]. To love is to give yourself, to be absorbed utterly in Him whom you love, it is to be incapable of looking at your own sufferings, to see only His Love [60]. Your prayers even in great suffering never leave you without a divine strength [61].
Mother Germaine (1870 – 1934) [62].
Mother Germaine was only 31 years of age when elected Prioress: she served in that position for 6 years and at regular intervals thereafter. She was also Mistress of Novices, which was not unusual when numbers were small. In Chapter, she said that her aim as Prioress would be, “To keep as perfectly as possible, in the wholly apostolic spirit of our Holy Mother, this Rule and these Constitutions which she has left us, after herself having observed them with such great perfection.” [63]. The Community was a family, with family values of love, joy, happiness, and simplicity [64]. This is especially noteworthy when one remembers the religious repression being enacted, at the time of her first election as Prioress, by the French Government. Following St Teresa, Mother Germaine sought to be loved that she might be obeyed [65], but also that monastic fervour and the Carmelite charism would be intensified in the Dijon Carmel. She was a true Mother to her daughters, rather than an organiser or born leader [66].
Mother Germaine was remembered as, “a great Carmelite: noble, respectful of others, somewhat timid and reserved, with a very generous spirit of self-sacrifice; she was a prayerful, peaceful soul, and exceedingly zealous of the perfect observance of the Rule” [67]. She was fortunate to have been in formation during Mother Marie’s Priorate; for her soul was inflamed with a love of silence and recollection, and she was able to recognise, test, and strengthen the interior lives of her daughters, from those secrets of the intimate life of the indwelling Holy Trinity in her own soul [68].
ELIZABETH CATEZ – PRIOR TO CARMEL (1899 -1901)
Introduction.
Elizabeth’s Diary is not only a record of the Mission of 1899; it is also a record of Elizabeth’s interest and dedication during the mission. Her days must have been very long indeed. For a few weeks she was able to live openly the ‘hidden’ side of her life among people who were finding time for God. In the space of those few weeks she became spiritually more mature, and her Mother had given permission for her to enter Carmel in about 28 months, when she was 21 years old. The mission proved to be a watershed and these 28 months need to be treated separately from her earlier life: the nature of her suffering may not have been too different from that of her earlier years, but this was not true of its intensity.
Figuratively, one may liken her life during this time to the passage across a narrow ‘bridge’ linking the end of the mission to the entry into Carmel. The end for which she had lived was in sight: it would take time to get there and, for a while nothing would seem to change, then her hidden life would become more and more open while her social life began to fall away. Yes, the end was in sight, but the bridge was narrow and she might lose her footing and no longer be able to cross: unless she stayed close to her lifelong guide – Jesus.
Elizabeth dreaded the ending of the mission and the return to her double life. She dreaded it because the mission had given added impetus to her desire for Christian perfection; and to the driving force of her young life: her desire to suffer for Jesus, “I want to endure all sufferings well” [69]. Her vocation had been confirmed (as far as was humanly possible) and so she fully expected to be able to realise her wish if she became a nun. Yet, if she had to remain in the world because of her own ill-health, or that of her Mother, she was prepared to gratify her wish in some other way [70]. Of course there was no reason why she should not suffer before becoming a nun, in particular as a means of mortifying her self-will. Unfortunately, her attempts at self-imposed mortification were innocently misguided, although pure in intent. Hadn’t she tried this before? Even before the start of the mission she had noted in her diary that “physical suffering is only a means of attaining interior mortification and detachment from self” [71] and “ I can at least immolate my will at every moment of the day” [72].
She put her health at risk, for example: by lack of sleep caused by wearing her ‘prized’ hair-shirt, and by getting up early to increase the time available for prayer; by her attempts to miss meals whenever she could; and no doubt, by other observances in the privacy of her own room. Any suffering resulting from her impaired health would be joyfully offered to Jesus: for she welcomed this [73]! Apparently her confessor had given permission for some disciplines, but had omitted to prescribe limits. [74]. One must conclude that, as happened a few years earlier, Elizabeth’s misguided enthusiasm needed trammelling. Fortunately Elizabeth was prepared to discuss the details of her attempts at mortification openly with Mother Marie, who was no stranger to the use of hair shirts, girdles, sleeping on boards, and other disciplines [75]. Thereafter she was firmly, and gently, encouraged to allow Jesus to decide, when He was ready, ‘if, when, and in what way’ He would invite her to suffer. No doubt, Mother Marie would have reminded Elizabeth that to do the Will of God, whether it be in joy or in sorrow, in pleasure or in pain, was of greater merit than to suffer [76]. A quite unexpected opportunity for Elizabeth to practice Mother Marie’s dictates occurred when “her long hours of prayer caused synovitis of the knee” in June 1901 [77].
Elizabeth also put her health at risk with her attitude to ‘unavoidable’ illnesses. One doesn’t know if she caught the flu in the epidemic at the end of the mission; in [L23] she wrote that her Mother was suffering and that Dijon was very wet and unhealthy! However, in Oct. 1900 she did have bronchitis, and she did not wish to recover: offering her suffering to Jesus. Fortunately Mother Marie was at hand to require her to pray for her recovery as an act of obedience, which she did and, yes, she recovered [78]. Exactly the same thing happened years later in Carmel during her last illness. She did not wish to recover, even though her sisters were praying for a miracle [79]; and Mother Germaine required her to pray also, which she did as an act of obedience [80].
Elizabeth longed to be in Carmel for the opportunity to suffer: when she was on holiday in July 1900, a priest suggested that Carmelite life could be too austere for her, and she replied, “Oh well, then I’ll die”. [81]; and when Mme Vathaire told her that Carmel was a “bottomless abyss of suffering”, she replied that she really hoped to suffer because she was only going to Carmel for that purpose. The Holy Spirit corrected an over-enthusiastic slip of the tongue with: “to pray, to suffer, and to love” [82]. Had Elizabeth’s sole aim in becoming a nun, been to suffer for Jesus; one could have understood her attitude to health: she could suffer just as well in the world as in Carmel; but then she would have been living a lie! How very precious was the gift of her vocation from Jesus [83]: He had called her in the depths of her soul, directing her to Carmel. Although in the world, she was living as His Bride, seeking to share any suffering with Him and in Him. Her suffering was the very expression of her love for Jesus. Her real longing was a longing to be with her Bridegroom in heaven: because then she would be a Carmelite in heaven and “the Carmel in heaven was far better” than that on earth [84].
In June 1899 Elizabeth went to Carmel as an aspirant to ask Mother Marie for permission to enter Carmel. She was accepted and became one of a small group of ‘postulants extra-muros’, all preparing for Carmelite life. She recorded the event in a poem [P71]. A translation of verses 1,2 and 2 lines of verse 3, is given in HMH [85], while the final verse 4 conveys both the sense of her rapport with the Prioress and her joy that this was the first of many meetings both with Mother Marie and a new group of friends.
Poems, Letters, etc.
Although Elizabeth wrote only 2 poems before entering Carmel, and ended her Diary with the retreat in January 1900; she did write 58 letters (extant) and 7 Personal Notes over the 28 months.
Elizabeth’s second poem [P72] was written for St Teresa of Avila’s feast day (15 Oct 1899). It lacks the passion of some of her previous poems. To her, Carmel was now a reality: however distant; and she wrote no more poems before entry into Carmel. She opens her poem by summarizing the life of the Carmelite nun, as she understands it and for which she longs (verses 1-6). Then she talks to Jesus about that longing for Carmel; reminding Him of when He first called her and of her suffering ever since; and still she is not in Carmel after all these years (verses 7-9). It is noticeable here that she uses the word ‘martyrdom’ – to express severe constant suffering [86]. A suffering which does not abate as the reality of Carmel draws inexorably closer: even though, she visits the monastery quite often and is already a postulant (verses 9-12). As always when reflecting on her ‘suffering’, her compassion for the suffering of her Mother ‘breaks through’ and she asks Jesus to comfort her both now and during the trials ahead (verse 13) [87]. Rather belatedly in the last 2 verses of the poem , she turns to the celebrations taking place on this joyful feast day for our Holy Mother and as the ‘chimes rise to heaven’ Elizabeth asks Saint Teresa to intercede for the postulants of the Carmel (verses 14-15).
How many letters were exchanged between Elizabeth and other extra-muros is not known, for only the 21 written to Marguerite Gollot are extant [88]. The content of these letters was quite different from the others: Elizabeth warmed to Marguerite, addressing her as a ‘very dear sister’; she arranged meetings at the Carmel; and she shared with Marguerite her very deep love for Jesus. The mental relief for Elizabeth in finding someone with whom she could open up her hidden-life, must have been considerable. One senses the ‘joy of suffering’ as an ever present thread: for example, on a picture-card she wrote that we should “see our crosses with eyes of love” [89], and in a letter, “It’s good to suffer, isn’t it ..” [90].
Elizabeth had begun writing ‘Personal Notes’ of reflection and prayer, when she was 13 years old, and 8 Notes were written over the 28 months covered by this update. [91]. Translations of 4 of these are given in HMH [92]. Do read the prayer in [PN5], it is very beautiful [93]. In 1900, on the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, Elizabeth renewed her vow of chastity [94]. She asked Our Lady to offer her, and to give her, to Jesus, and she asked Jesus for the grace to endure all sufferings well.
‘Extra-Muros’.
Elizabeth’s letters make it clear that becoming an extra-muros did not just mean visiting Carmel and meeting friends. It was principally an opportunity for Elizabeth to meet with Mother Prioress to discuss her prayer life [95], her daily activities, and the results of any ‘tasks’ which she may have been given: which could range from mortification to reading material from the archives of the Dijon Carmel [96]. Philipon draws attention to the act of mortification performed by Elizabeth when she realised that her close friendship with Marguerite Gollot was becoming too worldly. Her singleness of purpose, and her exquisite tact, stand out; as she brings Jesus back into focus, both for herself and for her friend [97].
‘Extra-muros’ activities still had to be a part of her ‘hidden life. Visits to Carmel and her new friends afforded her a much needed relief from suffering as it enabled her to live completely in her hidden-life for short periods, but the social life, that she had known for most of her life, went on without any let-up. As Carmel drew closer, the strain of living that double life must have been unbearable at times. For example, in April 1901 her Mother and sister went to a wedding while Elizabeth remained in Dijon [98]. In a letter to another extra-muros written, while staying with close friends of the family, she began by noting that she had to write in pencil because she did not wish anyone “to see me writing to you” [99]. When breaking the news of her immanent departure for Carmel to a friend of long standing, she wrote, “I hardly dare entrust this great secret to you” [100]. Even with Guite, who was “devotion personified”, she felt unable to discuss her thoughts about the monastery of Paray-le-Monial [101]. Why? One could be forgiven for thinking that she was being unnecessarily secretive - even paranoid. Perhaps, one answer might lie in the social stigma, at that time, of a ‘failed’ vocation as a nun. Although she had no doubt that Our Blessed Lady would watch over her, Elizabeth knew that she might not, even then, enter Carmel because of either her own or her Mother’s ill health; and that, even if she entered, the austerity of Carmel might lead to a breakdown of her health: as had happened to her close friend Marie-Louise Hallo (with whom she happened to be staying).
It would appear that Elizabeth also visited the Dominican Priory in Dijon, where she would have learned about the life of Saint Catherine of Sienna, and, from time to time, met with the Prior: Father Vallée [102]. Father Vallée was quite often at the Carmel, and Elizabeth’s first meeting with him at the Carmel (June 1900) is well documented [103]. He was greatly impressed by her understanding and spirituality, and said of her later, “She has a very heavenly soul, how few there are like it even in the cloisters” [104]. One can imagine the scene with Father Vallée seated and Elizabeth kneeling beside him, over-awed, and taking in every word. Every word, that is until the Holy Spirit opened the eyes of her mind to Father Vallée’s words “... the Father is there, the Son is there, and the Holy ghost is there” [105]. Then she couldn’t get away quickly enough! Can one even begin to imagine her feelings at this precious moment? Not only was she ‘Elizabeth’ – ‘house of God’ ; she was Elizabeth ‘of the Trinity’ – ineffable in its devastating beauty [106]! The only dark spot on the horizon would have been that she could not realise her full potential of the Divine Indwelling while not yet in Carmel: in other words, become ‘filled’ with the Holy Trinity; so that her joy would, for a time, be tinged with sadness.
Father Vallée said of the occasion, “I saw her borne away as on a tidal wave” [107]. Another author has suggested that as the eyes of her mind were opened, Elizabeth’s reaction would have been that of someone listening to the finale of Mahler’s 2nd Symphony [108]. The cumulative effect of that moment, very near to the end, when the organ takes over and choir sings, ‘Auferstehn … ‘, is also ineffable in its devastating beauty. There is no poem or personal note in June 1900 to mark this significant meeting with Fr Vallée. This could actually emphasize how Elizabeth viewed its importance: she marked the death of her Father, 10 years later [109]; her First Holy Communion, 7 years later [110]; and ‘Divine Indwelling’ would wait 4 years before being (indirectly) marked by the beautiful ‘Prayer to the Trinity’ [111], about which Fr Philipon wrote, “In order to compose such a prayer, a whole life of sanctity was required, together with a special charisma causing it to well up from her heart”.[112]. One notable exception is the poem written to mark her Mother lifting the ban on Carmel, which must have been written very soon after the event [113].
In July (1899) Elizabeth, with her Mother and sister, went on holiday to Jura and Switzerland for 2 months, returning to Dijon in September. [114]. Although Elizabeth knew that she would never visit these places again, she was fretting through being away from Dijon [115]. Having returned from her holidays, Elizabeth took up again her interest in youth work. She helped with the running of a youth club and with catechism classes in her parish. She was doing ‘the Lord’s work’ and it showed. She was idolised by the children; and she responded freely and naturally as a fun-loving enthusiastic teenager, and a gifted play-leader [116]. Her hidden-life surfaced naturally: among the children, it excited curiosity and interest, making her more approachable rather than less so. A slightly older teenage girl, whom Elizabeth had prepared for her First Holy Communion, wrote that Elizabeth had implanted a devotion to Our Blessed Mother and had encouraged her in prayer by praying with her and for her; and she remarked on her patience and gentleness. She realised only after receiving the sacrament, the beauty of Elizabeth’s teaching on Jesus’ Love which really began to blossom and bear fruit [117].
July 1900 saw the start of Elizabeth’s last holiday, to the Midi, with her Mother and sister. What were their inner feelings? The outward show of gaiety, during dances and musical evenings, concealed little inner happiness. The impression conveyed by Elizabeth’s letters of a whirlwind of unending and happy activity, was more fiction than fact. At Tarbes, tears of sheer joy streamed down Elizabeth’s face as she witnessed the joy of a sister at a veiling ceremony. The Mother watching her daughter was forced to say, “I wont make you wait much longer” [118]. There were tears again in November when Elizabeth went to a Clothing ceremony in the Dijon Carmel [119] Jennifer Moorcroft observes that Elizabeth showed stress in a photograph taken toward the end of the holiday [120], while Elizabeth remarked later that she had been haunted by thoughts of the Dijon Carmel. Certainly the stress was confirmed by the way in which the crowds, and noise, at the Paris Exhibition upset her [121].
Last Days in the World.
Over the years Marie Catez had been climbing her own Calvary, and in July 1901, rather than cause her daughter any more suffering from fretting about entry into Carmel [122], Marie Catez performed her penultimate act of motherly love [123]. She went quietly to the Carmel to arrange for Elizabeth to enter as soon as this could be arranged. The day after Elizabeth’s twenty-first birthday, Her Mother told her that she was to enter Carmel on August 2nd 1901 [124]. Marie Catez had also written to Mother Marie to ask whether Elizabeth could enter the Dijon Carmel rather than the new foundation at Paray-le-Monial [125]. Mother Marie willingly agreed. This had been a source of worry to Elizabeth, although she had been prepared to go with Mother Marie. Information on family scenes during Elizabeth’s last days in the world are well described in Jennifer Moorcroft’s book. Elizabeth’s thoughts on the verge of leaving the world, have been compared with those of one of her favourite saints, immortalized in the finale of the oratorio ‘Joan of Arc’, as she broke her chains [126]. Far more descriptive of those thoughts, and poignant, was Mme Vathaire’s comment [127] as Elizabeth turned to look at her in the Chapel just before entering the enclosure:
“Never will I be able to express what I saw there..... No longer a human glance, but something angelic. Her eyes were luminous, transparent: shining with a heavenly light... The impression will always remain with me”.
SISTER ELIZABETH OF THE TRINITY - IN CARMEL (1901-1903)
Postulant (August – December 1901) -
Novice (December 1901 – January 1903).
Introduction.
Elizabeth had crossed the ‘bridge’, she had entered Carmel. She had entered Carmel on the first Friday of the month, a day consecrated to the sufferings of her Beloved Bridegroom and to reparation. A Bridegroom whom she found so truly present everywhere “that it seems as if we were separated by a thin veil, and He were on the point of appearing” [128]. Can one wonder at her happiness: her ‘divine’ happiness [129]; in this “corner of Heaven” [130]. In a letter to Guite, she wrote “Don’t be afraid that my happiness will pass, for God is its sole object, and “He never changes”!” [131]; and in a letter to her lifelong trusted friend, “I do not regret these years of waiting, my happiness is so great it really had to be paid for” [132]. Three days after entry into Carmel, Sr Elizabeth posed for a group photograph with other sisters. Fr De Meester remarks that, “Her face betrays the suffering of the last few days but also her decision to go forward.” [133]. Her suffering had not ended, but its nature had changed: she was now in Carmel; and the emphasis, to begin with, was on compassion. One could be forgiven for thinking that the grille would keep her remote from the suffering in the outside world [134]. Parlour visits and letters effectively dispelled that idea, as did Sr Elizabeth’s forceful promotion of the ‘union of souls’ [135]. When writing about the union of souls, Sr Elizabeth frequently introduced the word ‘feel’. For example: “You do feel your little child very close” [136]; “Can’t you feel me there among you?” [137];”I’ll really feel it, for my soul is so close to yours” [138].
Initially, her overriding ‘personal’ suffering was the thought of the pain which her vocation had caused to her Mother and sister [139]: “Dear Mama, I’ve seen you weep so often” [140]. This was not at odds with her happiness [141]: she had offered her suffering to Jesus, to suffer in Him and with Him, and therein lay her happiness [142]. Sr Elizabeth was well aware of the religious persecution [143] and of how it might affect the Carmel; but while she found joy in this suffering [144], she was compassionate with her Mother’s worries about the worsening situation [145]. A year after entering Carmel she felt able to write, “I feel the sacrifice just as you do, but I’m divinely happy” [146]. The austerities of Carmel about which she had been warned were now a reality: for example, her cell was without heat or running water. In the previous winter the windows of her cell, and the cloister, had been frosted over [147]. Also a year after entering Carmel, now in the novitiate, she was enduring the trials of purgation and really suffering [148]: such was the effect on her that Fr Vallée was forced to ask, “What have you done to my Elizabeth?” [149]. This suffering was evident in a family photograph taken at the end of her novitiate. “It shows Sr Elizabeth with eyes swollen from a mixture of fatigue from her inner battles and the stress of the occasion. She posed, stiff and unsmiling, … “. [150].
Letters.
There are 69 letters (extant) from this period, written to 24 recipients: including 9 to her Mother and 15 to her sister. Taken overall, the letters give an idea of the social circle of the many friends and relations known both to Elizabeth and to her family; and to one-another. For this reason, Elizabeth was careful in her letters: not only in what she wrote, but also in how she expressed herself; that the suffering of her Mother was not exacerbated either from her own letters or as a result of ‘second-hand’ reports. The large number of letters to her sister is partly accounted for by the ‘errands’ that she had to run for Sr Elizabeth [151]. The permitted frequency for writing letters and receiving parlour visits was regulated [152]; but because of the state of Elizabeth’s health prior to Carmel, Mother Germaine encouraged more letters and visits for a few days after entry, and occasionally thereafter [153]. Acutely aware of her new daughter’s poor health, she sometimes added ‘encouraging postscripts’ when Elizabeth wrote to her Mother [154].
Sr Elizabeth took about a month to settle down [155], although a lot longer to participate fully in the horaria of the Carmel because of her fatigue [156]. Her letters were chatty and light, everything she experienced increased her happiness [157]. Clearly she was at pains to ameliorate her Mother’s trauma, but Sr Elizabeth’s happiness was genuine: everything that she did, saw her recollected in Christ; from eating her meals, to helping with the washing [158]. Truly her life was “Heaven in faith” [159]. Sr Elizabeth’s mention of the steady improvement in her health [160], that her appetite had returned [161], and that she was sleeping well [162] even to falling asleep in Matins [163]; was intended to reassure her Mother. Perversely, it did not! As a Mother, naturally she was glad that her daughter was getting well again; but this effectively killed any hope that her daughter would have to leave the Carmel through ill-health [164]. The letters from Carmel also confirmed that, in the last month’s before entry, Elizabeth was in poor health [165], that she was not sleeping well [166], and that she may have had digestive problems [167]. In rare departures from her usual style, past suffering was sometimes mentioned in Sr Elizabeth’s letters, noting: that she had “really suffered at times” [168]; and that she would never have been able to make the sacrifice which she did, without God’s help [169].
From time-to-time in letters to her Mother: she expressed concern at her Mother’s continuing ill-health [170]; she acknowledged the suffering caused by her entry into Carmel; and she reiterated her gratitude for her Mother’s ‘fiat’ [171]. At the end of 1901, there was genuine compassion over her Mother’s sadness when spending her first Christmas without her [172]. Guite kept Sr Elizabeth informed about their Mother’s health [173] and, as expected, had taken her sister’s place in looking after their Mother [174]. In one letter Sr Elizabeth reminded Guite, following her engagement, that their Mother was lonely [175]. It is apparent that Guite had shed many tears in the run-up to Carmel and was comforted by Elizabeth [176]. Even 6 months later she was still tearful [177]. In several letters to friends, with whom her Mother and sister were staying, Sr Elizabeth asked that an elder sister could take her place with Guite [178].
When expressing compassion, for death or illness, Sr Elizabeth had a flair for choosing an appropriate ‘prayer’. In a letter to a very close friend whose baby had died, Sr Elizabeth did not indulge in consolation, but advised her to seek comfort in the heart of Our Blessed Mother [179]. For a lady whose father was ill, and another whose husband was ill, she used Mary Magdalen’s prayer, “Lord, the one You love is sick” (Jn 11:3) [180]. While, for a Mother worried over finding a suitable husband for her daughter, she advised abandonment to the Will of God [181]. A final example illustrating her compassion was for those souls who did not know God. These she sought to bring to Him through her own deepening prayer life [182].
Nowhere in Sr Elizabeth’s letters was there any hint of the difficult time she experienced during her novitiate [183]. In fact, this would have gone largely unnoticed outside of Carmel, had it not been for Mother Germaine’s reference in ‘Souvenirs’ to the ‘humiliating’ and ‘painful’ suffering of the ‘poor child’ (1902) [184]. There were oblique references in 2 letters. Writing to her lifelong trusted friend, she referred to feeling “so little, so full of misery” [185]: by ‘so little’ is understood ‘how petty’, as given in the Stanbrook translation [186]. While, almost 3 years later, she advised a lady enduring long-term suffering,” We will never be purified by looking at this misery, but by gazing on Him Who is Purity and Holiness” [187].
Poems and Personal Notes.
During this period Sr Elizabeth wrote 14 poems [P73-P86] and 2 Personal Notes [PN12,13]. There is no mention of suffering in the poems until the middle of the year 1902, when she was enduring the trials of purgation in the novitiate. Then in a poem to mark the feast of St Martha [188], she wrote, “The Carmelite nun is a soul given, an immolate of God” [189]. Four days later she wrote [L131]: see refn [185] above. Again in a poem paraphrasing (Jn 15:13), she wrote, “Sister, let us forget the exile and the suffering”, and, “Oh! how beautiful is the martyrdom of virgins” [190]. On Christmas-Eve Sr Elizabeth was told that she would be professed early in January 1903, and in her Christmas poem, addressing the Infant Jesus, she wrote, “Look on me, It is in you that I hope, And to go to you, Prepare me” [191]. Once again, a few days later, the theme is repeated in a letter, “I feel my weakness, but He is in me to prepare me,” [192].
Personal Note 13 was written at about the same time as [P83] and [L131]. There is just one reference to sacrifice, “To be a Bride of Christ: … it is to be immolated like Him, by Him, for Him …” [193]. The note is in the form of a meditation on the theme, “To be a Bride of Christ”: written in the midst of suffering; and described by Fr De Meester as full of fervour [194]. He has exhaustively checked the content and has concluded that Sr Elizabeth did not copy any material from other sources, and that she originated the note. In other words, the note genuinely represents the outpouring of her heart and soul. Yes, it is a very ‘personal note’ and, for the privileged reader, a source of many hours of meditation.
Profession.
Sr Elizabeth made a 10 day retreat prior to being professed, during which her sufferings increased to the point of being almost unbearable [195]. After talking with a priest “of wide experience” she was able to proceed to her all-night vigil and to Profession [196]. Mother Germaine noted that Sr Elizabeth would have read in the vespers for the day of her Profession, “I beseech you therefore, … , that you present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, pleasing unto God, … “ (Rom.12:1) [197]. Six months after her Profession she was to write that during her vigil,
“I understood that my heaven was beginning on earth; Heaven in faith, with suffering and immolation for Him whom I love!” [198].
SISTER ELIZABETH OF THE TRINITY - IN CARMEL (1903-1906)
Professed nun (January 1903 – March 1906).
Introduction.
At her wedding feast Sr Elizabeth offered her Bridegroom “the gold of a pure heart, the incense of a life of prayer, and the myrrh of the sacrifice of all things including herself” [199]. He responded by ending her long period of trial that she might “dwell in a light that would never again be eclipsed” [200]. In that light she longed for the joy of martyrdom; but would conform to His Will, spending herself for Him, and for Him alone [201]. One could be forgiven for thinking that with her Profession, Sr Elizabeth had at last found peace and could now “get on with being a nun”. There was a tranquil rhythm to her life, and she no longer suffered from an over-sensitive nature or scruples [202]. An ineffable peace reigned in her soul: as would reign in any soul actively seeking to love God [203]. This was God’s Love at work in the soul; and one should welcome it [204] rather than holding back. Sr Elizabeth referred to this ‘peace’ in 24 of her letters.
Three years later Sr Elizabeth was admitted to the infirmary in the Carmel suffering from an incurable illness: Jennifer Moorcroft notes that the illness was diagnosed in 1903 [205]; so for quite some time her strength of will and indomitable courage had enabled her to hide the real extent of her suffering, by doing her work in a spirit of penance according to the Rule [206]. This was not duplicity: she needed to protect her Mother; she disliked being ‘looked after’ [207]; and it challenged her mortification in regard to: her stillness in chapel and at prayer [208], and her forgetfulness of self [209]. God had granted her prayer made all those years ago at the shrine of Notre-Dame d’Etang for the grace to die young [210]. Sr Elizabeth had longed to suffer and she would have her wish, but God leads souls slowly, taking them to Calvary by way of Tabor [211]. Along the route, He tests the growth in the soul’s love for Him by means of trials [212], for love cannot live unless it grows [213]. Sr Elizabeth was to spend 3 years ‘on the way’ being tested: overjoyed that her destiny would have its Calvary; and that it was a blessing, not a punishment, from God [214].
Sr Elizabeth’s Illness.
Medical opinion of the time stated that Addison’s disease was extremely insidious and difficult of diagnosis. The patient experienced progressive debility and emaciation and, at that time, there was no satisfactory treatment. It was known to be a possible complication of TB, which was then rife in Europe [215]. In simple terms, Sr Elizabeth knew that she was dying. One of the tell-tale symptoms of her illness is that the sufferer always feels cold. Asked how she could endure the cold during one winter, she wrote that she used to suffer more at home from the cold [216]; also, “Please excuse the writing, we have no heat and I cannot hold the pen” [217], and “The temperature in the parlour is hardly good for colds.” [218]. On another occasion in the summer when it had been proposed to open a window in her cell; she did not think that it was all that warm [219].
The progress of the illness can be charted from the sourced information given below.
Reassurance for her Mother
1903
March
Health ‘wonderful’ [220] - confirmed by Mother Germaine
August
Health ‘marvellous’ [221]
September
“ask God to continue to give me this grace of health” [222].
hot weather made her tired [223]
Hints / unguarded comments (?)
1904
April
“What is there to say about myself, while I wait to go sing in heaven” [224]
August
“In the long run …. the soul grows weary” [225]
“An abyss of Love .. while waiting .. to sing .. in heaven” [226]
1905
January
“Every day He makes me experience more fully how sweet it is to be
in His Love. .. and through everything we remain in His Love ” [227]
Adjustment in Carmel
1905
January
Permission to wear a warmer petticoat , health has changed [228]
March
Unable to keep the full Lenten observance [229]
August
Spending more time in fresh air [230]
Relieved of duties at the turn for a month [231]
Lassitude caused by failing health [232]
Utter weariness [233]
Using abbreviations in her letters because of fatigue [234]
December ?
Not able to finish her work as expected, getting weaker [235]
“As I went back ….. to get a little rest after Mass” [236]
1906
March
Infirmary [237]
Sr Elizabeth never referred directly to her illness [238], but some of the phrases in her letters for 1904 could have been taken as suggestive of it. Whatever interpretation one may adopt a century later; at the time of writing, her Mother was not alerted by any of them, although from her parlour visits she knew that her daughter was not in the best of health, despite reassurances to the contrary.
Letters from Carmel.
Sr Elizabeth wrote 114 letters (extant) over the 3 years. Superficially these are no different from her earlier letters from Carmel: loosely, the correspondents are the same, as are the topics written about. Her advice on suffering was being given to real people: people that she knew when in the world; but now she was writing against a background of her own illness: albeit carefully hidden from her correspondents so as to protect her Mother. She advised them not to draw back from their trials and suffering, because in every activity: joy or trial; the God of Love was entirely within them, and joyful or sorrowful with them [239]. What was their choice to be: was their soul to become impoverished and deadened; or was it live, to be purified through suffering, and strengthened in His Love?
Taken overall, the letters reflect the maturing of her spirituality and her growing interest in St Paul’s Epistles. There was an unmistakable confidence in the use and adaptation of Scriptural texts as her vocation as ‘a praise of His glory’ [240] was pursued. Her Scriptural quotations were chiefly from St Paul together with St John. She had begun referring to St Paul by name just prior to her Profession [241] Up to the time of writing her ‘Prayer to the Trinity’ (November 1904), when she felt it appropriate to quote scripture in her reply to a letter, she was sparing: using no more than 4 quotations [242]. Thereafter, her letters frequently contained up to 9 quotations [243]. These numbers can only be approximate [244].
Compassion.
In close contact with other nuns in the Carmel, Sr Elizabeth’s loving nature found many opportunities to express her compassion. For example: the nun in the adjacent cell was disturbed by noise, so Sr Elizabeth made a habit of always moving quietly about her own cell [245]; postulants found, that as an ‘angel’, she had “a comforting shoulder to cry on, when . . . they ended up in tears” [246]; and when Mother Germaine had recovered from Bronchitis, she was obviously delighted [247]. Naturally her compassion extended beyond the grille of Carmel. She was ‘up-to-date’ with the religious persecution [248]: aware not only of the anguish of seminarians at Dijon who were at odds with Bishop Nordez [249], and of other religious Orders [250] threatened with expulsion; but also with the effect on the local community of the Carmel Chapel having been closed by the Bishop [251] and of the possible loss of a Carmel in Dijon [252].
Sr Elizabeth often encouraged correspondents to use Mary Magdalen’s prayer, if a relative was dangerously ill [253] writing that it was a prayer that God did not resist. It is interesting that she never invoked this prayer for her own illness, nor did she use it in any letters after January 1906. Sometimes she was able to call on her pre-Carmel experience as, for example, when Guite’s father-in-law died she wrote how she could understand his wife’s grief better, because she remembered how their own Mother had suffered when their Father had died [254].
In quite a few letters [255] Sr Elizabeth suggested that the sufferer should “throw themselves into the arms of God” or allow God to “carry them in His arms”: the arms of Love. Jennifer Moorcroft quotes one of these letters in full “because of the superb advice it contains. ..it reveals so beautifully Elizabeth’s spiritual outlook. It is full of common sense ..” [256]. There are at least a dozen Scriptural references woven into the text, and it can provide many hours of meditation. A meditation on the theme of the letter follows, in outline.
“Life is a succession of sufferings [257] and sufferings are trials from God [258]. Perhaps this is not the way suffering is seen? Then, there can be no satisfactory explanation for pain, and one simply suffers: especially if modern medicine offers neither cure nor relief. The alternative is to “throw oneself into the arms of God” and seek to live life more deeply in Him, with Him, and through Him: a ‘union’ not merely of love and obedience, but a living organic unity [259]. Sr Elizabeth was keen on complete abandonment to Him: no matter how weak one was, how sinful, how guilty, how . . . ; He would take care of everything. But would He? Could He? She quoted from the Scriptures of Jesus Love, His Compassion, the Power He exercises from His Father in heaven, and of His agony for mankind in the garden. With every quotation she was answering: Yes, He will; Yes, He can; for God is Love.
Does the alternative give a satisfactory explanation for pain? For the Christian who, through Faith, is living ‘Heaven on earth’ (le ciel ici-bas) the answer is Yes! Sufferings are seen as something so great, and so divine [260]; yet this vision requires unequivocal abandonment to Him [261], for only in Him can one persevere in offering these trials to Him, thereby ‘wounding His Heart of Love’ [262]. Allegorically, the wound of love is caused by an arrow of perseverance shot with love, since this appears to question Jesus Love [263]. It is beyond the comprehension of natural reason how, in the midst of suffering, one is able to share in the Joy out-pouring from His wounded Heart; nevertheless it is a well attested fact [264]. It is also a well attested fact that no-one can appreciate this joy, who has not tasted it; and no-one can taste it, who has not experienced suffering something for Jesus. No created joy can give any idea of that joy out-pouring from His wounded heart. “ eye hath not seen, nor ear heard: neither hath it entered into the heart of man, what things God hath prepared for those that love him.” 1 Cor.2:9).”
One cross that Sr Elizabeth carried in Carmel, was the suffering caused to her Mother by the ‘fiat’; and she would carry it for the rest of her days. Her compassion comes across in 7 letters from this period: Mother (5); ‘Rolland Aunts’ (2) [265]. Some phrases typical of these letters are: “It is not without suffering that one says goodbye to a Mama forever” [266]; her heart had bled thinking about her Mother’s Calvary [267]; and, she “really made her (Mother’s) heart bleed by entering Carmel” [268].
The Myrrh of Sacrifice.
Phrases such as, “Thinking of all that I have left for Him” [269], and, “I seem to have made nothing but sacrifices” [270], in Sr Elizabeth’s Letters relating to sacrifice, may come as quite a shock; as they often appeared unqualified by any reason for making a sacrifice. Sr Elizabeth’s own reason lay in her offering to the Bridegroom at her wedding feast, but what about her ‘non-religious’ correspondents? Although, “We must part with all we possess in order to possess Him” [271], and “Leave everything and fly to Him” [272], remedied that deficiency; it required, “ Sacrifice is a sacrament that gives God to us” [273], to impart dignity to what Sr Elizabeth had tacitly assumed. She went on to suggest that the special sacrifice which God loves us to offer to Him, is one from the heart [274]: such as she made on leaving her Mother [275]; and the sacrifice that her Mother had made earlier with her ‘fiat’’.
It is a fact of life that joy and sacrifice go side by side [276], for Scripture says, “If we have received good things at the hand of God, why should we not receive evil?” (Job 2:10). Now one of her aunts had defective eyesight and Sr Elizabeth was praying for a cure. When this seemed unlikely, she wrote that God may ask much in the way of sacrifice [277]; but never more than can be borne, and He always does so, that He may give more fully of Himself [278]. Sr Elizabeth illustrated this maxim, again, by reference to her own difficulties in the past over the choice of a suitable confessor [279]. It is interesting that the word ‘sacrifice’ appeared more often in her letters after she had written the ‘Prayer to the Trinity’: in one letter to her Mother it was used 5 times [280], and in another 4 times. She concluded the second letter with, “I wont say anything more about sacrifice” [281]!
The final offering of Sr Elizabeth to her Bridegroom at the wedding feast was the sacrifice of herself. Soon after Profession she sent flowers to her Rolland aunts from the Altar on which she had immolated herself [282]. Her longing for immolation even before entry into Carmel, was confirmed by a close friend years later [283]. Immolation is referred to in 5 letters [284] prior to her ‘Prayer to the Trinity’, but then not again until after she had entered the infirmary. For her, immolation was not something that happened just once at her Profession; it was the active giving of herself [285] to God, unceasingly [286], for the rest of her life: this was the only way to realise the ‘activity’ implicit in her favourite Pauline phrase, “And I live, now not I: but Christ liveth in me.” (Gal.2:20) [287]. Equally for her, immolation was not a prerogative of religious: it was available to anyone actively prepared to stay close to Jesus: the Jesus who lives in the soul, for
“He will teach you to suffer, to immolate yourself, to pray, to love.” [288].
“Lord, see! the one for whom you have affection is sick. (Jn 11:3)” [1]
INTRODUCTION
“God is Love. Always believe in Love” (1 Jn 4:16), “O Abyss, O Love” [1], “O love, Love! You know if I love You.” [2]. These are representative quotations which could be repeated many times over, with ‘Love’ as one of the keywords, to be found in Sr Elizabeth’s letters written towards the end of her life. In 78 letters (extant): ‘Love/love’ appeared 314 times; Happiness, 56 times; joy, 53 times; and suffer (-ed) (-ing), 15 (5) (99) times. A close friend, who had known her well over the years, later wrote to Guite that Sr Elizabeth’s letters were a testimony to her deep faith [3]. In previous letters from Carmel, Mary Magdalen was referred to quite often; so the absence of any reference to her in these letters is noticeable, even though this may not have been apposite.
Letters from Carmel.
In the last 8½ months of her life Sr Elizabeth endured horrendous suffering with no word of complaint: “Only in heaven will it be known how I have suffered” [4]. If all reference to the solitude which she treasured in the infirmary could be removed from her letters for the first 6 months [5]; then one probably would not realise that there had been a serious downturn in her health. She had been confined to bed following her syncope in Holy Week and this affected her letter writing. She was disappointed not to have died, and it is obvious from a letter to her sister that she believed she was on the threshold of eternity [6]. In that letter, she thanked Guite for always putting her sister’s happiness first and very humbly she asked forgiveness for having been a bad example!
Scriptural quotations from her beloved St Paul were almost absent from her letters [7]. She had lost the use of her legs and the dearth in St Paul continued until July, when she regained their use, and was allowed out of bed [8]. Then there was a marked increase in Scriptural quotations! This trend continued over the next 2 months, during which time she wrote 3 spiritual treatises [9] as well as 20 letters. However, in the third treatise, which has been classified also as a letter, she remarked on how long it had taken to write, because she was so weak. Thereafter she referred to her weakness in 7 letters [10] none of which were to her Mother or sister: she just didn’t have the strength to write; she was unable to hold the pen/pencil; she didn’t have permission for a long letter; and towards the end, she didn’t really have strength to dictate what she would have loved to have said. To her Mother and sister, she simply wrote that she was tired [11]. But note this: until the last few days: and perhaps even until she died; her mind was clear and active [12]; even though at one point, she might have died of Meningitis except for the loving care of her infirmarians.
Over the last months the use of scriptural quotations in her letters decreased, but she did occasionally include quotations from Angela of Foligno. She had begun to read this mystic’s ‘Works’ in the infirmary, and found these a comfort during her last weeks. These last letters leave no doubt that she really was suffering: of course, by that time the disease was rampant [13]. Yet once again, thinking about her Mother, both she and Mother Germaine played this down. In fact it was only to Mother Germaine that she frankly admitted, “Your little victim is suffering very, very much, . . .” [14]. Even in her penultimate letter, Sr Elizabeth was thinking about her Mother, when she asked the recipient to take care of her, so as to give Guite some respite [15]. Previously she had made arrangements for a close friend to help her Mother mount the Calvary that would be occasioned by her daughter’s death [16]. When this friend had visited the parlour, she had been reduced to tears by the intense feelings of affection exhibited by Sr Elizabeth for her Mother [17]. Sr Elizabeth was also thinking about her Mother, when she called her back at the end of a parlour visit a few days before her death and said quietly to her, ”Mama, when the turn sister comes to tell you that I have finished suffering, you will kneel down saying: “My God, you did give her to me, I give her back to You; let Your Holy Name be blessed!” “ [18]. This enabled Sr Elizabeth to leave the recipients of her last 5 letters in no doubt that death was immanent. She was so weak after writing the first two of these letters, which are no more than notes, that she collapsed with a severe fit of trembling and was subsequently given the Sacrament of Extreme Unction again [19]. Was this attributable in part to the strain of writing her fourth spiritual treatise; unknown to Mother Germaine? The treatise is classified as a letter addressed to Mother Germaine, but it was not found until after Sr Elizabeth’s death.
It was also in July that the doctor had reported that Mme Catez was getting much weaker [20]. This gave Sr Elizabeth the idea that her Mother might even pre-decease her, and so she asked Guite to make their Mother’s last years the happiest, “for she has suffered so much” [21]. For as long as had been realistic, the Mother had not been told of the very serious nature of her daughter’s illness; but when she had been given Extreme Unction on Palm Sunday, Mother Germaine had decided that she must be told [22]. Although she was no stranger to family tragedy, this was a ‘bolt from the blue’. Now, as with her sacrifice almost 5 years previously, her daughter’s happiness came first; and sustained by His Love and her strong faith, she was able to write a comforting letter, almost immediately, to Sr Elizabeth [23]. Needless to say, with the Mother already quite poorly, the news had exacerbated her ailments.
Joy and Happiness.
Even though Sr Elizabeth knew that she was dying; even though the disease had all but incapacitated her; she was a true Carmelite [24]: “a nun to the hilt” [25], so being able to keep the Rule in little things gave her great joy [26]. Her sisters knew this and spared no pains to assist her. How she loved the sister who carried her in her arms to receive Holy Communion [27]: what joy to receive her beloved Bridegroom. She was carried into Chapter to be once more with her community [28]: on seeing their pleasure, how great was her joy. Finally, they carried her on a chaise-longue [29] to be close to the Blessed Sacrament: that she might spend time with Him whom she was impatient to join [30]. Her expression: “What a Carmel” expressed her happiness so well [31].
While in Carmel her love for the Blessed Virgin had deepened and in a letter to her sister she wrote, “I weep for joy when I think that this wholly serene, wholly luminous creature, is my Mother” [32]. In different ways, 2 other Mothers, unknowingly, vied with one-another to give her joy. Her beloved Priest (Mother Germaine) would strive to come to her immediately after receiving Holy Communion, that she might participate in the thanksgiving [33]; she instructed her on suffering [34]; she wrote letters to Sr Elizabeth’s dictation [35], when she was too weak to write them herself; she .. , but the list is endless [36]. It gave Sr Elizabeth great joy to do what little things she could in return [37]. What of her own beloved Mother who prepared her all those years ago for her First Holy Communion; who agonised for years about her daughter wanting to enter Carmel, and finally gave her fiat [38]; who wrote to her and visited her often in Carmel even though her own health was broken. Every letter from her Mother “was a joy to (her) heart” [39]. Whatever little she, or others, could do to please her Mother gave her joy [40]. Of the 78 letters Sr Elizabeth wrote, 17 were to her Mother.
Letters from other people she had known in the world were also a joy to her [41], especially if she could help them through prayer [42]. The way in which friends, relatives, and sisters, tried to find tasty morsels that her stomach might allow her to eat, really gratified her [43]. With each day, she understood a little more clearly her joy at having been invited to share the sufferings of Jesus [44] and she wished to share both her joy and her love for Jesus, through her letters, poems, and conversations. In this respect, she related to the Samaritan woman at the well (Jn 4:5); who, after meeting with Jesus, left her water pot, and returned to the city to share Jesus’ message (Jn 4:28-30) [45]. This incident in Jesus’ Life was familiar to her, although her favourite quotation from it was (Jn 4:10) : “If you only knew … “ [46].
SUFFERING
Now that her illness was no longer a closely-guarded secret, Sr Elizabeth referred more to sacrifices which she could make. In particular, offering these sacrifices to God in petition for someone else. For example: on the anniversary of her entry into Carmel she offered ‘again’ all of the sacrifices made then, for her Mother [47]; for a Mother trying to find a husband for her daughter she wrote, “may all the prayers and sacrifices offered. . . draw down very special blessings on her “ [48]; and for herself, “Would you please obtain the grace for your sister” [49]. Sr Elizabeth stressed that the spontaneous offering of sacrifices as opportunities occurred was a sure proof of our love for God; irrespective of how large, or small, the sacrifice might be [50]. Fr De Meester notes that in some letters the word sacrifice was used conversationally as a ‘reaction’ to an event in which Sr Elizabeth was not directly involved [51]. For example: “I must admit I feel a real sacrifice” [52][52]; and, “It would be too great a sacrifice for my heart to keep silence” [53].
In Him, With Him, and Through Him.
Sr Elizabeth summarized her attitude to suffering in these words, “God has an immense desire to enrich us … but it is we who determine … the extent that we … let ourselves be immolated by Him, immolated in joy, in thanksgiving, …” [54]. While Mother Germaine said of her, “Our Elizabeth reminds us of the Divine Master on the Cross. She is in a lot of pain from little afflictions added to her general condition. She suffers as she has lived, like a saint [55]. She has loved God alone and has surrendered everything to Him” [56]. There is the meaning of love.
Soon after Sr Elizabeth entered Carmel she wrote to a young friend, “A Carmelite is a soul who has gazed on the Crucified, who has seen Him offering Himself to His Father as a Victim” [57]. Later, she was to quote Angela of Foligno, “Where did He dwell but in suffering” [58], and to write, “His suffering was as immense as the sea” [59]. There is the meaning of Love.
Our Father lovingly offers His friends sufferings and trials [60]: not as something to be feared, but as pledges of that Love[61], inviting them to offer these in fellowship with Jesus [62], as a sacrifice [63]: a sacrifice which will help to prepare us for heaven (Heb. 13:14) [64]; a sacrifice that will be ‘good for the soul’ (2Cor.4:17) [65]. Offering in fellowship means losing oneself in the sufferings of Christ [66]; and being supported in that resolve by the ‘gifts’ of the Holy Spirit: wisdom, fortitude, piety, etc.; working in the soul, and producing ‘fruits’ of charity, joy, peace, patience, longanimity, etc. The interaction of these fruits strengthens the soul; enabling it to meet adversity head-on [67].
Offering in fellowship implies that one cannot follow Jesus just by suffering: it is also necessary to die a mystical death [68]. The sacrificial victim lovingly ascends the altar of sacrifice [69], and selflessly invites the High Priest (Heb. 4:15), in the person of Jesus, to sacrifice ‘ their entire person [70], their suffering and pain [71]’ in fellowship with His sufferings [72], to the greater glory of God [73]. This sanctified offering transforms a fellowship of pain into a fellowship of unalloyed joy [74]. If one may be permitted to use the expression, this is indeed ‘a wound of Love’ and the outpouring of joy, which many may share in fellowship [75], is immense.
Sr Elizabeth included herself in sacrifices to be offered to Our Father. For example: to a religious about to go into retreat, “I am delighted to immolate myself to Love for you,” [76]; “This little bed .. is the altar on which I am being immolated to Love” [77]; “the place where I must immolate myself at every moment” [78]. Her apogee of joy was to “be entirely sacrificed and immolated” [79], in permanent union with God. Mother Germaine would be the earthly High Priest through whom the Sovereign Priest [80] offered the sacrifice. In her poem [81] Sr Elizabeth extols the virtues of her Prioress saying that any offering made by her pleases the Holy Trinity and is acceptable to God. She notes that the Prioress first sacrificed her on the day of her Profession, and now He is asking for another sacrifice to be made at her hand. The Prioress has prepared the ‘little victim’ and the sacrifice will made on Calvary; as it was made, all those years ago, by the ‘Man of Sorrows’ [82]: her Divine Model.
Little wonder that Sr Elizabeth should write of the ‘treasure’ that suffering can be [83]; and of the joy of being able to cover those she loved with the ‘wings’ of prayer and suffering “to keep them in all Thy ways” (Ps.90:4, 11) [84]. Sr Elizabeth eagerly accepted sufferings and trials offered to her; and would have willingly taken on those offered to other people: for example, to her Mother [85]. However, she realised that this would have been lacking in charity, because gifts from Our Father are so precious [86].
The Royal Way [87]
Sr Elizabeth thought of her last months on earth as progress along the Way of the Cross; sharing the sufferings of her Bridegroom, as was her right as his Bride. She wrote of the opening of the way to Calvary [88]; beginning the serious ascent [89]; getting used to it [90]; and, as the summit neared, begging the help of her beloved priest, in a heart-rending cry: “Oh assist me” [91]. It should be noted that in these letters she was playing-down the seriousness of her condition. A brief chronology is given below; where, it must be noted, the dates can only be approximate.
During the last 2 months of her life, Sr Elizabeth’s suffering was unimaginable [112]; indescribable, no: for it was as if, “wild beasts were tearing her entrails out” [113]. Still her joy deepened and her understanding of the value of suffering increased [114]: with some of the worst spasms of pain she would say, “Thank You, I am not worthy of it” [115]. She also found comfort in the words of Jesus to Angela of Foligno, “If only you knew how delicious the dregs are at the bottom of the Chalice prepared by my Heavenly Father” [116] and followed this up by asking one of her correspondents to “pray that God might increase (her) capacity for suffering.” [117]; so that she “might immerse (herself) with Him into immense suffering” [118]. During some of the worst bouts of suffering Sr Elizabeth experienced a real desire to offer her sufferings to help a former postulant. She later wrote asking if this person was in trouble [119], but there was no known follow up in the letters.
In her suffering, Sr Elizabeth walked a royal way, a way Christ had trodden before her. She ‘fell’ 3 times as a result of that suffering and, although disappointed not to have died, she picked herself up and continued on her way. ‘Simon, Veronica, and the Women’ were all there to aid her; in the guise of Mother Germaine, her Sisters in Christ, her Mother and Sister, and many friends. Not least, the Holy Trinity was there. Was it coincidence, that her last ‘fall’ was followed by the feast of All Saints, which she dearly loved [120]; that thereafter as she lay on her bed of suffering, nailed to her cross, she had been ‘stripped’ of everything but love [121]: the Love of her Bridegroom, and her love for Him and those surrounding her with love? The Bride was resting in the arms of her Beloved Bridegroom [122], deep in the abyss of Divine Love, when she died peacefully. Was it coincidence, that she died on the same day of the week as He did?
PAIN
Introduction.
In the letter to the former postulant, she admitted being in severe pain. She had previously admitted to another correspondent, “I have been suffering more for several days” [123]; and, as mentioned previously, she had told Mother Germaine when she was experiencing intense suffering [124]. Was Sr Elizabeth always in pain; was there no let-up, no relief, to her agony? It is known that she was given medication to help her sleep [125], but that is not the thrust of the question. Just how did she manage to write 78 letters, and 27 poems: half of which were written in the last 3 months of her life; in the midst of such suffering. Perhaps a clue lies in the ‘throw-away’ line from a letter, “I am so weak, (that) instead of putting (the pencil) in my hand I have put it in my heart” [126]; or in the stunning words said to Mother Marie of Jesus during her visit in July: “I am at the springs of infinite Charity; I am always close to Him, who gives because He loves; I am in the flood of the Life of God, and I can tell Him that I love Him and this is as true as His Truth” [127].
Although there can be no provable answer almost a century after her death, it is not unreasonable to surmise that: she did get periods of relief from the sensation of pain; but there was no cessation of pain [128]. Mother Germaine wrote that, “Elizabeth’s soul turned towards the summits which overtop suffering” [129], and later testified that Sr Elizabeth was able to surmount suffering [130]. In addition, an affirmative answer is supported by the following quotations: all dated after Sr Elizabeth’s ‘mystical experience’ on Ascension Day [131]; “she would sink into profound prayer to be there with Them” [132]; “almost at once (she would) be lost in her habitual profound prayer” [133]; “I came to take refuge in my Master’s prayer, I need His strength, I’m in such pain” [134]; “I settled myself … in prayer with my Master. I spent a heavenly evening” [135]; “isn’t it good … to rise above things that have an end and pass away” [136]; and, “Urging me to go beyond my suffering, to rest in Him” [137]. Note: in the final quotation, by ‘to go beyond’ is understood ‘to exceed’; which is rendered as ‘to soar above’ in Philipon [138].
Imagery: eagles, doves, and prey.
In the present context, imagery is an attempt to create a feeling for the ineffable! It is a prayer-form, neither unique nor subject to analysis, which is helpful to many, but not all, as they experience the Love of God .
When Elizabeth was an extra-muros, Mother Marie of Jesus may well have told her that: “A Carmelite without wings is no Carmelite” [139]; and prayer and penance are the 2 wings. These helped them to ‘rise above’ difficulties: to quit earth and soar towards heaven; as the psalmist says, “Who will give me wings like a dove, and I will fly and be at rest” (Ps 54:7). St Teresa, discussing raptures, refers to the Bridegroom as an Eagle bearing the soul up on its wings [140]. As an extra-muros, Elizabeth was reading the ‘Story of a Soul’, in which Sr Thérèse insists that she is too weak to be an eagle; but she begs her brothers, who are eagles, to obtain divine favours for her [141]. She also refers to being carried on the wings of the Divine Eagle. Elizabeth’s familiarity with this material is confirmed by a letter in 1901 to another extra-muros [142]. In other words, she was aware of imagery in which the soul was represented by a bird: either an eagle or a dove. Also that an eagle could be used as an image for the Bridegroom, the prayerful man[143] or the soul [144]. Sr Elizabeth refered to the Divine Eagle ‘swooping down’ in 2 letters [145] and ‘carrying her off’ in 2 poems [146].
Eagles and doves both ‘fly’; but usually the eagle is thought of as ‘soaring’. The intention is to convey a sense of power and a sense of rising up above oneself. Fray Osuna says that when this happens the intelligence of the soul, which is the highest of its powers of knowledge, passes into love for what it contemplates [147]. Sr Elizabeth may also have read in St Teresa’s Works that those proficient in prayer, soar like eagles [148].
Elizabeth had also noted that Sr Thérèse referred to herself as a prey, because she applied this to herself in the 1901 letter. There are 7 other references covering all her letters and poems in which prey is used [149]: although she does not always specifically refer to a prey of Love, this is implied.
The difficulties created by analysing imagery are well illustrated by considering the eagle and its prey in nature, and the reality which it is intended to portray. The eagle swoops on its prey, carries it off, and devours it: loosely, this could be applied to a Christian who has died and gone to Heaven. However, the action of God is one of pure Love; whereas that of the eagle is far removed from love. Again, the eagle swoops on a prey which is alive and, presumably, healthy [150] ; whereas the Christian is near to death.
Sr Elizabeth’s use of imagery.
Isias 40:31 reads, “They that hope in the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall take wings as eagles.” Remembering Sr Elizabeth’s degree of mystical union: when she prayed, she would soar like an eagle, with the Holy Spirit: the Breath of God; as the wind beneath her wings[151]. She was responsive (docile) to the guidance of the Holy Spirit, and could fly like the eagle above the storm: the storm of her pain. When she prayed and soared like an eagle, she would keep “her eyes ever towards the Lord” (Ps. 24:15) Now the Lord is the ‘Sun of Love’ [152]; and only the eagle can look at, and fly toward, the Sun without blinking.
All who knew her remarked on her great fortitude in suffering: fortitude, a gift of the Holy Spirit; and fortitude, represented in heraldry by an eagle! There was a bonus: wherever the Holy Spirit is, there also is the Holy Trinity: Sr Elizabeth was filled with her ‘Three’ and her joy was complete [153][153]! This intense joy masked, for a time the sensation of pain. The pain was still there, but it did not overcome her while she allowed the power of God to lift her up and to strengthen her.
Sr Elizabeth conveys similar ideas, using different imagery, in her beautiful poem on the ‘Love of God’ [154]. In the last verse, she pictures herself in a small boat in tempestuous seas. She is quite calm and keeps her gaze on the Light from the Beacon, while the Spirit of Love takes the boat safely towards the eternal shore of Heaven.
The Divine Eagle swooped on her as a prey on the evening of Palm Sunday [155]: Jesus came Himself “to accomplish His work of destruction and consummation in her body and soul” [156]; and, undoubtedly, several times during her last month’s on earth: only May 13 [157] and Oct 31 [158] are recorded. Each time He returned alone to His eyrie: it would seem that she did not visit there, “I thought the time had come for me to take my flight to the infinite realms” [159]. His penultimate visit was probably at the end of October. It is merely conjecture to suppose that Jesus may have spoken with her then, as he did with St Gertrude: “If you consent for My love to remain longer in the body, I will establish my abode in your heart, as a dove in its nest; and at the same time I will hide you in My Heart, from whence I will lead you forth to eternal joys.” [160]. During those last days, listening, as the ‘Exercises and Revelations’ of the Saint were read to her, gave her great peace [161].
THE DEATH OF SABETH
“I am going to Light, to Love, to Life”.
Details of Sr Elizabeth’s last days are lovingly described by Jennifer Moorcroft and will not be repeated here [162]. Suffice it to note that her death agony of more than a week, gave way to a few hours of calm, just before her death, as she was comforted and prepared by the Blessed Virgin: Our Lady of Mount Carmel. “When I shall have said my “Consummatum est”, it will be she again, Janua Coeli, who will usher me into the eternal courts, as she utters the mysterious words: “I rejoiced at the things that were said to me: We shall go into the house of the Lord.” (Ps. 121:1)” [163].
Our Blessed Lord said: “I will come again and will take you to myself: that where I am, you may be also.” (Jn 14:3); while Deut. 32:11 reads, “As the eagle enticing her young to fly, and hovering over them, he spread his wings: and hath taken him and carried him on his shoulders.” [164]. How appropriate that it was on a Friday [165], which one naturally associates with the sufferings of Our Divine Saviour, that her waiting was over [166][167]: the Divine Eagle swooped down on her: as a prey of Love, as an eaglet (Deut. 32:11); and carrying her on His wings, they soared to the very top of Mount Carmel: “Where only the honour and glory of God dwells”; and where there is no more suffering, no more pain.
“Sr Elizabeth was leaning on her right side, head thrown back. Her eyes, wide open and looking up …, seemed in ecstasy …. Her face was wonderfully beautiful; … she seemed to gaze upon the eternal hills..”
Aftermath.
“When I have risen to God, you will be the first to know it, and no one will know it before you” [168]. Prophetic words addressed to her beloved Mother Marie of Jesus in the previous July. On November 9th, a little before morning Angelus at Paray-le-Monial, Mother Marie heard an interior voice say “Sister Elizabeth is dead”. This was but the first of several experiences she had of Sabeth’s filial fidelity. [169].
Is it so unreasonable to posit that Sabeth also told Guite? The spiritual bonding between the sisters was very strong. There is evidence that she was traumatised by her sister’s death, even though she had been prepared for it for 6 months, To the day of her own death, Guite never mentioned her beloved sister, even to her children [170], and the Cross which Sabeth gave her on entry into Carmel, never left her room.
Fr Vallée was deeply moved by the death of Sr Elizabeth who, he said “knew the meaning of Redemption” [171]. A photograph of her, taken during her intense suffering, never left his room [172].
Sabeth must have enjoyed the linking of her life with that of a favourite Saint, in Mother Germaine’s comment on the death of her daughter.
“So ended this life of much love, that can be summed up in the words of the Gospel Narrative about Mary Magdalen:
But to Fr De Meester must go the last word: “Prophet of God, Elizabeth of the Trinity, belonged henceforth to the entire Church.” [174].
COMMENT
During the preparation of the last part of these notes, I was haunted by Fanny Crosby’s hymn, “Safe in the Arms of Jesus”: in particular the last verse and the refrain, which I quote.
“Jesus, my heart’s dear Refuge, Jesus has died for me;
Firm on the Rock of Ages, ever my trust shall be.
Here let me wait with patience, wait till the night is over;
Wait till I see the morning break on the golden shore.”
“Safe in the arms of Jesus, safe on His gentle breast
There by His Love o’ershaded, sweetly my soul shall rest.”
INTRODUCTION
These notes are intended to complement those on suffering, so that the reader can remove the artificial separation that it has been necessary to make between the Cross and Suffering. What was the place of the Cross in her life? How did she express this in her letters and poetry? Although there is a surfeit of information covering her later teenage years and her life in Carmel, there is very little for her early years. So much so that once again we are faced with a jig-saw, only this time there are even less pieces available. However, there is a fundamental difference between the place of the Cross in her early life, and the place of suffering. One learns about the Cross – from God, the church, people, books etc – as a cumulative process of internalising following by living what has been learnt, rather like learning a foreign language. So that one can assess what is observed at a given time and know pretty well what has gone before. Whereas suffering is internalised in a different way – it is ‘experienced’. By the time Elizabeth came to enter Carmel she was living a spirituality of the Cross which changed little in detail thereafter, but profoundly in depth.
BACKGROUND
Introduction.
Fr De Meester’s remarks about the need to be familiar with the age in which Elizabeth lived in order to appreciate her life, are just as true for the Cross as they were for suffering (see Update 3); only now it is apposite to look in more detail at the religious background, circa 1900. There is a short informative section in a paper by P.B. Aniceto: ‘Thérèse and Priests’ http://www.catholic.net/rcc/Periodicals/Faith (now scroll down to March/April 1999) which refers to the reverence in which Priests were held circa 1900. In addition, the following book may be helpful: ‘Christ in His Mysteries’ by Dom Columba Marmion (1858-1923) which is a collection of some of his Spiritual Conferences given circa 1900. Another vital, and immediate, source which comes alive in the reading, is the report of the great Mission of 1899 held in Dijon, given in Elizabeth’s Diary [q.v. Update 4]. Fr De Meester writes that her account is praiseworthy for its completeness and accuracy [3]. Two very good books, from an earlier period although still relevant, are: Spiritual Letters to Women, and Spiritual Letters to Men, both by Archbishop Fénelon (1651-1715).
The great Mission 1899.
The scene for this is quickly set [4]. The mission was preached by the Redemptorist Father’s simultaneously in every parish in Dijon. The opening ceremony in the Cathedral was held on Saturday 4 March 1899; the first sermon was given on the Sunday (3rd of Lent) after High-Mass; thereafter there were 2 and sometimes 3 talks each day for the next 4 weeks until the mission closed on Easter Sunday 2 April 1899, after Vespers. The times of the talks varied somewhat, but there was always a talk at 6 am each morning and a talk most evenings, in all amounting to over 60 talks. Elizabeth appears to have been present for all of them, even those directed mostly at men and given in the evenings. Almost every aspect of ‘Living a Christian Life in the World’ was covered: topics included charity, devotion to Mary, impurity, liberalism, dangerous occasions, the Christian woman, the Christian house, suffering, piety, and love; as well as sin, death, judgement, hell, and Heaven [5]. The Passion of our Divine Saviour was examined on Holy Thursday. The Cross was not the subject of a separate talk. Why should it have been? Surely, one cannot think of Jesus without thinking of His Cross, even at the incarnation [6]. The ‘Sign of Christ’, the ‘Seal of the Living God’ permeates every aspect of Christian living: “if one would be in a state of grace do not turn the eyes of your soul away from My Cross, either in joy or sadness” [7].
‘Sign of the Cross’
It may seem strange to the reader that the ‘Sign of the Cross’ has not been included under the general term ‘Cross’. The reason is that the Sign of the Cross is hardly ever mentioned by Elizabeth in her writing, and not mentioned at all prior to her entry to Carmel. In [L196] Elizabeth asks her Mother to sign her sister’s baby with a Cross; and she signed her last letters with a Cross because she was too ill to do otherwise [8]. Imparting a blessing is associated with the Sign of the Cross, and she blessed her nieces when they visited her in Carmel with her Profession Cross [9]. One may assume that the ‘Sign of the Cross’ was in her mind when she asked for, or gave, a blessing in her letters. For example: she ended all of her letters to Priests [10] especially Canon Angles [11], and nuns [12] with a request that they bless her; and she ended [L259] by asking God to bless Mme Hallo. Only in letters to Guite and her children did she ever give a blessing herself; which emphasized the very strong spiritual bond between the sisters [13]. Remember Elizabeth’s words to Guite: “ I will be always with you at the Foot of the Cross” [14]; and, “at the feet of Jesus, I never leave you”.[15]. It is interesting to speculate on when Elizabeth learned of the tradition to make the Sign of the Cross with 3 fingers, as a continuing reminder of the Most Holy Trinity [16].
Introduction.
In her very early years ‘before the age of reason’ , Elizabeth would have copied the religious practices of those she loved. She was born into a deeply religious family, and her Mother must have impressed her daughter, for a child of 21 months to “throw kisses to (the Crucifix)” and to be “teaching her doll how to (kneel) and pray”.[17]. Thereafter there is no reference to the ‘Cross’ in CW1, OC, MPA, or HMH, until Elizabeth was 15 years of age [18]. This is not surprising. Really, it confirms a ‘presence’ of the Cross as she grew up. Her Mother would bless her with the Sign of the Cross at bedtime. The Father would doubtless use it when saying grace. She would use it herself when entering and leaving church, saying her prayers, and also, perhaps, when entering and leaving her home. It was a part of everyday life, as first recorded by Tertullian. She would also have noticed the very large Cross in her family church and the Stations of the Cross around the walls.
The death of her Father (1887) in her arms and of her Grandfather earlier the same year may have brought the Cross into strong relief. This could have been the first occasion when Elizabeth made a connection between the Cross and Suffering. Her Mother would have been well aware of it. God loved her so much that he had given her a very heavy cross to bear: the deaths of her first fiancé, her Mother and Father, and then her Husband in so short a space of time. It is little wonder that she apparently had Jansenistic tendencies, possibly having concluded that she was not one of ‘the Elect’. Elizabeth was just old enough to know how much her mother suffered from these deaths [19].
Maybe it is conjecture to suggest that by this time Elizabeth had become more familiar with the Stations of the Cross in her parish church, particularly noticing the fifth station: ‘Simon of Cyrene carries the Cross for Jesus’. Little would she have known that this would lead to one of her favourite quotations from St Paul (Col. 1:24). She was no stranger to them in Carmel: in her letters she refers to making the ‘Way of the Cross’ [20] and making a novena of ‘Stations of the Cross’ [21].
The deaths in her family, the Stations of the Cross (possibly), and her preparation for First Confession would cause Elizabeth to look more closely at the reasons for Jesus’ death on the Cross, and why Jesus gives his friends Crosses to bear. Highly intelligent though she was, could she yet have understood that there was an unction in His Cross enabling his friends to bear their Crosses, and that in so doing they became like unto Simon of Cyrene [22]?
Elizabeth’s Poetry.
Although there is no written record of the place of the Cross in Elizabeth’s early life, one can safely conjecture that it featured in her on-going spiritual preparation to realise her childhood ambition of becoming a nun [23]. Here again, there is a dearth of information, that is until the age of 14. Then, so it is recorded in Souvenirs, she asked Our Blessed Lady to obtain for her the favour of dying young, as “she cared nothing for the things of this world” [24]; she heard the word ‘Carmel’ after Holy Communion on one occasion [25]; and she gave herself totally to Jesus [26]. Fr De Meester writes [27] that she was “touched by the grace of God”. It was just after her 14th birthday that she first mentioned ‘suffering’ in a poem [28]. A year or more was to elapse before there was a first mention of the Cross, and she summarized life as she saw it in a 2 verse poem entitled ‘To my Cross’ [29]. Through the Corpus she addresses Jesus passionately; telling Him that she longs for Him, since He is now all there is for her in this world; and inviting Him to be with her as her strength. She reflects on His sufferings, weeping over them; and is glad to be able to suffer with Him, to be with Him at the ‘Foot of the Cross’. Unfortunately, it is not possible to date this poem very accurately. It is worth noting that poem [P36] is an addition of 4 more verses to the 2 verses of [P26] and that [P36] was written for the feast of the Exaltation of the Cross (14th Sept. 1897). This might mean that [P26] was written for the same feast in the previous year – although this would lie outside the range of approximate dating. Fr De Meester notes how Elizabeth copied out the poetry of Lamartine [30]. Almost certainly then, she would have been familiar with his long poem entitled ‘The Cross’ and written in memory of an unnamed friend. Perhaps his question addressed through the Corpus inspired her poem: “O divine Comforter, whose image we kiss – answer, what do You say?”
The extended poem [P36] records how Elizabeth’s spirituality had developed in the course of a year. She specifically mentions sharing the Cross of Jesus and walking with Him to Calvary proudly wearing the insignia of suffering. She concludes by asking Him to grant the favour, that she had asked through Our Blessed Lady, of dying young. These ideas were given further expression in her poetry; but the basic concepts will not change during her life: she wanted to share His Cross in love, prayer, and suffering. The suffering to which she referred was her long wait to enter Carmel and the reluctance of her Mother to approve of her desires [31].
With her poems she was writing for herself – spontaneously. She is letting us enter her private world; we are eavesdropping on a soul that responded to the love of God, and was frustrated by having to remain in the world. She wrote 73 poems (extant) in 5 years and then stopped, writing nothing over the last 2 years before she entered Carmel. A similar thing happened with her Diary, and Fr De Meester suggests that Elizabeth felt less need to pour out her heart at a time when she was talking with the Prioress of Carmel and other aspirants to Carmel [32]. 18 of the 73 poems include reference to the ‘Cross’ or to ‘Calvary’. The ‘Cross’ in [P38] refers to the Rosary worn by the nuns, and the poem is not considered here.
In addition to [P26; P36] the phrase ‘Foot of the Cross’ is mentioned in only 2 other poems. When Elizabeth was 16 years of age she gave her heart to her divine Bridegroom [33]. At 18 years, on Good Friday 1899 during the mission, she asked her Beloved not only to accept her heart, but, in addition, not to return it to her [34]! This was to forestall the marriage plans being made for her by her mother!
In many of the remaining 13 poems mention of the ‘Cross’ or Calvary is symbolic of her anguish at being unable to enter Carmel [35]. But note: Elizabeth is addressing Jesus in her private world and nowhere is there a hint of criticism of anyone. She lovingly accepts her Cross from Him and asks only that it be a part of His Cross. It is noticeable that in her poems, following the end of the great mission (April 1899) Elizabeth started to ‘demand’ her Cross(es) [36], and she asked Our Blessed Lady to obtain Crosses for her [37]. Some of the lines in [P66; P68] are particularly beautiful. There she imagines that Jesus is speaking to her; referring to Himself as ‘Bridegroom’, ‘Beloved’ and ‘Brother’ and inviting her to climb Calvary with Him.
Summarizing some other points in these poems, Elizabeth wants no other joys but to carry the Cross [38]; to share His Cross [39]; to climb Calvary, happy and proud [40]; and to die Crucified [41].
Elizabeth’s Letters.
Elizabeth wrote 84 letters (extant) prior to entering Carmel, the majority to friends, giving details of her holidays. “All pleasure need not be shunned, we can have Jesus beside us sharing in all our activities, as long as they are within the limits set by the Will of God [42]. Reference to the ‘Cross’ is made in 14 letters, all of which were written in the period when Elizabeth had ceased to write poetry: 11 were to another aspirant to Carmel – hence maintaining her practice of a ‘hidden’ private life. The first letter [L40] was in the form of a short note written on the back of a picture card in January 1901. In these 11 letters, Elizabeth took no more than 2 or 3 short sentences to present her message. Broadly, if one was not carrying a Cross [43], or sharing the Cross with Jesus [44]; then one was at the ‘Foot of the Cross’ either at a pious rendezvous [45] or in silent prayer [46]. Sharing the Cross symbolizes an exchange of love/Love, where He offers us joy when we drink the bitter chalice with Him [47]. Without that exchange of love/Love, we will never find our Calvary. Similarly, we can only remain at the Foot of the Cross if we genuinely desire union, on His terms and in whatever form He chooses. Elizabeth used such phrases as: “to die to ourselves with Jesus” [48]; “to listen only to Him” [49]; “when we cannot pray anymore, let us look at Him” [50].
Letter [L80a] referred to above in ‘Background’, was perhaps the most difficult one Elizabeth ever had to write. It was to her sister on the eve of her departure for Carmel. She was tormented by the knowledge that by entering Carmel, she would crucify her Mother and sister whom she loved so dearly. She gave her sister a Crucifix and a short letter stating that she would always be at the Foot of the Cross for her sister – and she always was. For example, in [L298] she asked that when her sister awoke at night that she would unite herself with Elizabeth. During Guite’s lifetime neither the Cross nor the letter ever left her room. Some idea of the effect of Elizabeth’s departure can be gauged from short extracts from a letter written by Guite to their teacher a few days later. “I believed I was going to die, something broke in me”, “her empty place at table”, “she (Elizabeth) could not have lived in the world”, “your small Guiguite is not anymore like she was formerly” [51]. Yes, never parted for long from her big sister throughout her whole life; 19 years of age; and with her heart ripped out! For completeness, note that Guite married, had 9 children and died in 1954. 5 of her children entered religious life – 4 nuns and a Priest. Her eldest daughter, named Elizabeth followed her aunt into the Dijon Carmel and died there in 1991. Truly, Marie and Joseph Catez were special.
The Mission of 1899.
What effect did the mission have on Elizabeth? The only answer is: ‘profound’! One result was that her dread of the ‘particular judgement’ was replaced by a totally fulfilling (épanouissant) love [52]. Her diary contains a wealth of spontaneous prayers: the outpouring of her heart, after many of the talks. A few representative phrases taken from these are: “Look on my tears and sighs, and have mercy, Almighty God, in the name of Jesus my Beloved Spouse” [53]; “My grief is unbearable when I think that Your heart is wounded “[54]; “I know that there exists no more wicked creature than myself, for You have bestowed so much on me” [55]; “I thank You, my God, for having shown me the vanity of the world from my earliest days” [56]; “My ardour has redoubled during this mission, and my heart burns to convert souls” [57]; “O Divine Heart! uproot, consume, all that displeases You, so that my poor heart may be one with Yours” [58]. Once again, there is a very beautiful imagined dialogue with Jesus on Good Friday: He tells her that she will have her wish to suffer much, to die in pain, and to share His Cross. Her answer:- “Yes, my Love, my Life, the Beloved Bridegroom whom I adore” [59].
Summarizing the references to the Cross in her prayers during the mission. Elizabeth ‘demands’ her Cross(es) [60] and the support of Mary [61]. She wants no other joys but to carry the Cross [62]; to share His Cross [63]; and to die Crucified [64].
Many of her prayers are given in full in [PG,Ch.III], do read them. It is clear from her remarks at the end of the chapter that Mother Germaine believed there was evidence of mystical union, for she quoted our Holy Mother’s words about likening the behaviour of the soul to wax having a seal impressed on it [65]. It is further worth noting that later editions of Souvenirs preface the chapter with our Holy Mothers words about giving “a thousand lives to save one soul” [66], together with the remark that Elizabeth was a worthy daughter in her own desire to save souls [67].
Prior to the great mission, Elizabeth had attended a retreat for girls [68]; and then in January 1900 she attended a retreat, preached on the Crucifix [69]. The ‘Cross’ is mentioned in two of her prayers from that retreat. In the first prayer, she bemoans her sinfulness; the ‘malice of sin’ [70]; and the fact that her faults were responsible for His sufferings. In the second prayer, she contrasts the Jesus reviled and carrying His insulting Cross to Calvary, with the Jesus triumphant and appearing on Judgement Day in the valley of Josaphat (Jehoshaphat) (Joel 4:2) [71].
Mystical Union.
Père Philipon [72] records that these outpourings at the mission were the ‘first mystical intimations’ of her soul. Fr De Meester writes “The Love of Jesus had started early to wake up the very great ‘puissances’ that were in her” [73], “Everywhere in the Diary, one can glean signs of a life of union with God” [74] and later he comments on her first use of the word ‘extase’ [75]. Neither her Mother nor her sister were aware of this development. In her letter of 5th Aug. 1901, Guite wrote; “Only, when she (Sabeth) spoke to me about all these things, I understood nothing as I am too down-to-earth” [76]. It should be noted that her Mother, at that time, had not rescinded her ban on visits to Carmel [77].
“Ave Crux, Spes Unica! The Cross is the heritage of Carmel” [1].
SISTER ELIZABETH OF THE TRINITY - IN CARMEL (1901-1906)
Postulant (August - December 1901) – Novice (December 1901 – January 1903)
On her first evening in Carmel, Sr Elizabeth was discovered in prayer at the foot of the large outdoor Crucifix. When asked what she was doing, she replied, “I’m passing into the soul of my Christ”[2]. In Carmel Sr Elizabeth’s doctrine of the Cross was enriched by the Epistles of St Paul and the works of St Teresa, St john of the Cross, Angela of Foligno and Jan Van Ruysbroeck. The framework of this doctrine did not change significantly during her religious life, whereas the interstitial content was enriched with at each step of that life: clothing, and profession; as is evident from her letters and poems. In the period considered she wrote some 169 letters (extant) of which 19 include reference to the Cross; and 23 poems (extant) of which 5 include reference to the Cross. [Only the 19 letters and 5 poems are referred to in these notes, unless specific mention is made to the contrary.]
The Crucifix was always very dear to her, both as a child and as a professed nun. This is only indirectly apparent in the 6 letters in which she used the word ‘Crucifix’. As a postulant it was the only word she used; it was replaced by ‘Cross’ in letters after [L207]. Interestingly, this letter was written in August 1904, i.e., about 3 months before her Prayer to the Trinity. Prior to clothing, her message was that one’s personal Crucifix could enhance silent prayer [3], and also enable the remote ‘union of souls’ [4].
Sr Elizabeth asked her sister to simplify her prayer life by just looking at her Crucifix, [5] as she herself did in her cell; as a sight of the Crucified form was sufficient to focus the mind: “my soul stays close to Him” [6]. The latter thought was present in [L261], where she wrote that the Crucifix was a symbol of revealed Love and mutual love. A known anecdote in the Carmel was that when Lacordaire was dying and unable to pray, he asked for his Crucifix that he might simply look at it and hold it. [7]. Doubtless Sr Elizabeth was familiar with our holy Mother’s remark that when you look at the Crucified, problems suddenly loose their importance [8], and with the similar comment of St John of the Cross [9]. An alternative version of this remark is that to look at the Cross is to realise what love is [10]; inspiring one with a longing to suffer both with Him and for love of Him [11].
The doctrine of Divine Indwelling, and a Crucifix, formed the basis of her idea of remote communication through the ‘union of souls’: Framboise was instructed to look at, and to recollect herself with, her Crucifix and then, in the presence of Jesus, to think of Sr Elizabeth at a certain time [12]. In her turn, Sr Elizabeth would complement these actions and think of her friend. The ‘union of souls’ concept was behind remarks often made to her Mother and sister that, regardless of the grille, she was always very close to them. See for example: [13].
In the year following her clothing the word ‘Crucifix’ did not occur in the letters. Three letters were addressed to ladies who were ‘suffering’, and Sr Elizabeth was duly compassionate. Sincerity was her watchword, with advice and comments based on her own life before entry into Carmel. In [14], referring to the Cross, she explained the function of the lady’s Cross (of suffering) as an “instrument that was obeying Divine Love”. In [15], she referred to union with the Master on the Cross as a result of the lady’s intense suffering; and observed that, “there is no wood like that of the Cross for lighting the fire of love in the soul” (original ?). Finally, in [L147] Sr Elizabeth pointed out that the privilege of carrying the Cross in suffering was not given to everyone. Those who did so were enveloped in the Divine Love.
One more letter, [L133], was written while Sr Elizabeth was a novice, to a teenage girl-friend. The middle portion of her letter beginning, ”A Carmelite . . .is a soul who has gazed on the Crucified..” [16], can be read and re-read - the words seeming to leap from the paper, with each reading yielding more riches: “Truth is a deep well; the more it is dug, the more the water gushes out”.[17]. Fr De Meester’s explanatory notes for the letter are worthy of attention. This letter is the only one considered by two of the theologians: attention being centred on her definition of a Carmelite, which emphasized the Carmelite vocation and charism. Philipon also includes [L156], written just a month after profession, in which Sr Elizabeth refers to the effect of beholding the Crucified: inner strength and firmness of purpose [18]. Borriello emphasises conformity to Christ Crucified [19]. Balthasar gives an overview of her letters for this period in [20].
Poetry.
She wrote two poems as a novice. Her first Christmas poem in Carmel [P75], included a line expressing her desire to be ‘consumed by (Jesus) on the Cross’, showing that ‘union’ was an ever-present thought. The second poem [P83] ,although dated to coincide with the feast-day of St Martha [21] , would seem also to mark the first anniversary of her entry into Carmel. The opening theme is the ‘ever-present thought’: she is crucified with her Christ , a Carmelite soul offered in sacrifice to the glory of God. A dynamic translation of the poem is given in Bancroft [22]. The richness of letter [L133], written a week later, was in keeping with the outpouring of her soul in poem [P83].
Professed Nun (January 1903 – March/April 1906)
After profession (January 1903) as a ‘Bride of Christ’, her Crucifix was worn over the heart [23]. Sr Elizabeth wrote that looking at the Crucified always reminded her of what she owed Him and, when weary, enabled her to find the strength to do more for Him: “He will be our strength”[24]. In addition to being a constant reminder of her dedication as a Carmelite; her Cross now took on a deeper meaning. Sr Elizabeth wore her Crucifix as a ‘seal on the heart’: words taken from a lovely song of deep and lasting love, which ‘no power on earth could quench’, within the Song of Songs (8:6). A seal in ancient times was a man’s most prized possession; it was his signature, it confirmed who he was and his status; and, as such, it was often worn on a chain over his heart. Little wonder that, in her ineffable joy, she wrote, “At last, He is all mine, and I am all His: now I have nothing else but Him, He is my all” [25]. Every time she kissed her Crucifix, she was reminded of her Bridegroom, of His suffering, and of the dignity of her calling as His Bride. Fr DeMeester relates that Sr Elizabeth’s teenage girl-friend testified that the profession Cross was, “the dear companion of her life in Carmel” [26]. In later letters, Sr Elizabeth refers to the Cross of suffering as the “seal of the elect” [27], echoing St Cyril of Jerusalem: “.. let us not be ashamed to confess the crucified. Be the Cross our Seal” [28]
Over the next 3 years Sr Elizabeth wrote 12 letters ( Cross (11) + Crucified (1) ), each addressed with compassion to ladies experiencing suffering. None of these letters has been considered by the 3-theologians.Her basic message was simple, and timeless.
Jesus loves you so very much [29].
As a sign of that love He has allowed your suffering to occur [30].
What is your response:
…….will you lovingly consent to share His Cross [31]?
Knowing that He may ask everything of you [32].
Knowing that this is the same Jesus:
……“who loved (you) and gave Himself for (you).” (Gal.2:20)[33].
Will you join that select band of happy people
……– those who have answered, “yes” [34]?
Jesus’ invitation to share His Cross of suffering
…..– His “seal of the elect/predestined” [35]
…..-- His token of Love [36] --
…..is only extended to those who love Him enough
…………...to want to share His Cross with Him [37].
…..- “(I) rejoice in my sufferings for you and fill up those things
……..that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ, in my flesh,
……..for His body, which is the Church.” (Col. 1:24), [38].
His response to your “yes” is:
…..to take you as His Bride [39], united with Him [40],
…..sharing His Cross [41], accepting His Love [42], His strength,
…..His consolation [43]; and a promise to remain very close to you,
…..as you do to Him [Refn to Eliz of Hung], in your suffering [44],
…..which is also His suffering and therefore Divine [45].
Columba Marmion, writing at about the same time as Sr Elizabeth, noted: “God gives us a cross to carry … We ought to accept the one given to us without reasoning … In this generous acceptation of ‘our’ cross, we shall find union with Christ. For in bearing our cross, we truly bear our share in that of Jesus [46].
There are 2 letters, and 1 poem, from this period in which Sr Elizabeth returned to the idea of gazing on the Crucified in silent prayer [47]. In a letter to a teenage girl-friend she wrote, “Oh! look at Him attentively, lean on Him, and then bring your soul to Him, tell Him that you want only to love Him” [48]. Sr Elizabeth then compared the beneficial effect of ‘long-term’ gazing; to that of the multitude who “sought to touch (Jesus): for virtue went out of Him and healed all” (Lk.6:19) remarking that in time, we should “achieve annihilation, contempt of self, and love of suffering” [49].
Poetry.
[P94] is a long poem entitled ‘Love’ written for St Martha’s feast day 1905. The second verse is a searching presentation of what loving Jesus means to a Carmelite: always responsive, seeking to be formed in His image, and gazing on Him night and day. It is a reminder of [P83], written for the same feast-day 3 years earlier. A dynamic translation of the poem (but not including the second verse) is given in Bancroft [50]. Two other poems written during this period have not been included here [51].
Professed Nun – The Infirmary (March – November 1906)
In the final months of Sr Elizabeth’s life, as her condition worsened, she was often not fit enough to receive visits in the parlour. Ordinarily, this would mean that she could request permission to write letters in place of these visits [52]. But with so severe an illness, Mother Prioress, allowed, nay encouraged, Sr Elizabeth to write additional letters especially to her family. Hence an overall total of 78 letters (extant) (Cross (12) + Crucified (7)) in 7 months is not unreasonable; of these 15 were written to her Mother, 5 to her sister, and 7 to Mother Prioress. In some of the letters both words were used, also the words often appeared several times in the same letter. In the same period she wrote an overall total of 27 poems (Cross (5)). When examining the content of the letters and poems, it is important to bear in mind that Sr Elizabeth wrote the spiritual treatise, ‘Heaven on Earth’ early in August 1906, interposed between letters [L304 | L305]; and then commenced a 10 day retreat on August 15th 1906, during which she wrote the spiritual treatise, ‘The Last Retreat of Laudem Gloriæ’ interposed between letters [L307 | L308] [53]. The two treatises were probably written after [P106] but before [P110]. It is not possible to be more exact because of the difficulty of dating the poems for this time.
It is fortunate that so many of her letters have been preserved, because these contain thoughts on her spiritual doctrine, which supplement her spiritual treatises. Loosely, Sr Elizabeth used both ‘Cross’ and ‘Crucified’ when discussing her attitude to her own suffering – note the word ‘attitude’, as she never complained about her illness nor was there any self-pity [54]; and ‘Cross’ when advising others about suffering. “The daughters of St Teresa are not afraid of the Cross, it is . . . their treasure” [55]. This daughter’s attitude to her own Cross can be summarised as follows.
She believed that though unworthy [56],
……she had been marked out for suffering [57].
She had asked to be allowed to suffer in, and with, Christ [58],
……as one of the elect/predestined [59];
……to receive the seal of the Cross [60];
……to share the burden of His Cross (on her Calvary) [61];
……to be allowed, “to fill up those things
……that are wanting….” (Col.1:24) [62].
The granting of her petition, her ‘way of the Cross’, [63]
……filled her with ineffable joy [64]:
……as suffering would conform her to ‘the image of’ Christ[65];
……and because the Father would then see in her “the image of His Son” (Rom. 8.29) [66].
In 7of these letters [67] reference was made, directly or indirectly, to Rom. 8:29 – one of Sr Elizabeth’s favourite quotations. This was used for the first time in [L231] in June 1905, and the increased use, a year later, may be explained as follows. In Lent 1906, when opening St Paul’s Epistles at random, she happened on Rom. 8:29 and, because of her increasing ill-health, thought that the quotation presaged her death, or as Philipon expresses it, ‘her forthcoming deliverance’ [68].
Three of the letters [L298; L304; L314] are worthy of special mention.
In [L298] Sr Elizabeth explained what she understood by ‘mystical death’ basing this explanation on Phil. 3:10 “ That I may know Him …. and the fellowship of His sufferings; being made conformable to His death”. { Later she gave another definition to Framboise [69] based on Matt.16:24 noting that, “this doctrine, which seems so austere, is sweet and delightful when we consider that this death puts the life of God in the place of the life of our sins and miseries.” [70].}
The second letter [L304] was remarkable for its completeness – a letter of love, and of joy. Addressed to Père Vallée she asks for his prayers for perseverance in her quest, also for the gift of final perseverance; and she asks for a few lines of ‘direction’ from him, whom she would remember before the face of God. Sr Elizabeth treasured his reply and was for ever re-reading it. One can readily understand why. He promised his prayers and gave his ‘direction’: ‘Remember that all He asks of us, He asks in Love’; ‘To believe that we are loved, is a great act of our Faith, it is the means of returning to Our Crucified Lord love for Love”. He concluded his letter, “Courage, child. Eat this bread, whatever the suffering of the body. Believe in the Love which seeks you and wants to make you His, all His”. The letter was signed, “With God, I bless you. - Père J –G Vallée” [71]. Père Vallée visited her 3 weeks before she died and noted her joy [72] To the end of his life, a photograph of Sr Elizabeth never left his room.
The third letter [L314] gives an insight into the deep love for the Crucified, conjured up in Sr Elizabeth by her Crucifix. “When (her sisters) tried to console her at being able to longer receive the Blessed Sacrament, she said: “I am finding Him on the Cross, it is there that He is giving me life”” [73]. In [L324] she wrote, “look at the crucified and be conformed to that divine image” [74]. Again, when in severe pain she kissed her Cross [75] in thanksgiving for “the greatest love token (Jesus) can give to a creature” [76]. Her docility to the Holy Spirit deepened [77], enabling her to “soar above the pain, to rest in Him. Obviously, this exceeded the human mode of behaviour and can be explained only by the Spirit of Fortitude Who sustained Our Lord on the Cross” [78]. One may seek different explanations in ‘altered states of consciousness’; but that would be to completely miss the point. Whatever the effect on her of kissing the Cross, Sr Elizabeth had responded to the grace given her in a new trial, with and in Jesus; and had offered her pain through Him to the triune God. She would not have asked for anything. What else could she ask for, when she was with her Bridegroom?
The 6 letters [79] (a seventh letter [L268] was considered above) written from the infirmary and using the word ‘Cross’ only may be summarised as follows.
a) [L280, L295, L311] were addressed to either her Mother or her sister, and simply expressed Sr Elizabeth’s desire that they should always accept Jesus’ invitation to share His Cross when this was extended to them.
b) [L309, L323, L328a] refer to Sr Elizabeth’s ever increasing joy in helping Jesus to carry His Cross
c) In [L309] she further explained how offering her suffering lovingly in, and with, Him resulted in hidden reserves of strength made available to her.
Although there is only scant agreement over which letters to consider; there is, nevertheless, broad agreement in their analyses which was made possible by the repetition of ideas in many of Sr Elizabeth’s letters. It must be noted that while Fr Balthasar ‘allows Elizabeth to speak for herself’, there is little agreement with the translations given in the Complete Works (ICS), because the original letters were only translated ‘as required’ into German by Fr Balthasar. In other words, the translation of the same passage in different parts of the book could be different! It should also be noted that the two editions of his book in English – 1954, 1989 are by different translators. Although the more recent one, in ‘Two Sisters in the Spirit’, includes references, these frequently refer to Philipon’s second book on Sr Elizabeth [80]. Only the 1954 translation is used in these notes.
Letter [L294] sets the scene for the last 4 months of Sr Elizabeth’s life. She wrote to her childhood trusted friend, Canon Angles, telling him that she had started her last journey: her ‘road to Calvary’, her way of the Cross; as a joyful Bride sharing the Cross of her Bridegroom. She asked the Canon to consecrate her in that role: to the Father that He might see in her the image of His Son; and to Our Blessed Mother that she might prepare Sr Elizabeth for her role as the Bride in the marriage feast of the Lamb (Apoc.19:8,9). The quotations in the letter are from both St Paul and St John; but the spirit is Johannine, the Bride like the Bridegroom walks the way of her Cross with majesty and ascends it, joyfully, and in triumph [81]. It is a letter truly worthy of a “Queen on the right of the King” [82]. Later, she will tell her Mother that she was coming to terms with her Calvary [83]; and she will ask Père Vallée for his prayers for final perseverance in her ascent of Calvary [84]. Sr Elizabeth refers to the royal ‘way’ in [L313; L316][85].
The barely-contained joy pervades the letter to her sister written on the Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel and 2 days before her 26th birthday. “Little Guite, help me prepare for my eternity. …. I am going to rest there, where I have already lived a long time” [86]. She made a similar remark to the Prioress while holding her hand, “Do not leave me, I stand in great need of your aid to finish climbing my Calvary” [87]. Her sleepless nights are evident, but unspoken, when she asked her sister, “At night, when you awake, unite yourself to me” (union of souls) [88]. The description of her way of the Cross centred on the empty Cross on the wall of her cell. There was no corpus: she must take the place of her crucified Lord, nailed thereon as a Bride, in her quest for conformity. The many parallels between the 2 letters stand out. [L298] is a wonderful letter, do read it if you would like to glimpse the soul of Sabeth. The letter is significant because it includes 2 key-words, ‘transformed’ and ‘conformed’, of her spiritual doctrine. This happened in only 3 of Sr Elizabeth’s 169 letters [89]. As an aspirant, she would have listened to Mother Marie of Jesus explaining that living the ‘Rule’ (with its work, penance, suffering, and hardships) conformed the nun with Christ Crucified; and that praying the ‘Rule’ (through the Sacraments, Prayer, Divine Office and Contemplation) – our heaven on earth – transformed the nun into Christ [90]. Fr Borriello succinctly illustrates the difference in meaning between ‘transformed’ and ‘conformed’: “Before being transformed from splendour to splendour, she was made conformable to the incarnate Word who died on the Cross out of Love and rose again.” [91]; and again, ”When the soul rids itself completely of that which is repugnant to the divine Will or is not conformable to it, the soul becomes transformed in God through Love.” [92].
All 3 theologians consider letter [L300] written on her birthday and addressed to her Mother. She refused to be sad; even about her Mother’s poor health, because Sr Elizabeth loves her too much! The second paragraph, based on one of her favourite quotations (Rom 8:29) and a central plank of her spiritual doctrine, re-iterates the message of [L294]. Since the nuns and all her friends had been praying for her recovery, she had been asked to pray for this as well. ‘Confident of the outcome’ she asked the Blessed Virgin for a miracle. No, there would be no last minute reprieve, and she could continue joyfully on her way of the Cross, towards being conformed in the image of her bridegroom: whose Cross she shared and whose seal she joyfully and humbly wore.
The 2 letters [L307; L314] only appear in Philipon. At first glance [L307] was simply an announcement that she was to make a retreat. She was actually “going away with Janua Caeli for these days of prayer and recollection” [93]; to prepare herself as a Bride in the forthcoming marriage feast [94]; “to teach herself conformity with (her) adored Master” [95]. One outcome of her retreat was the major spiritual treatise ‘The Last Retreat of Laudem Gloriae’; referred to by her Prioress, after a quick glance, as ‘simple notes on what she read in the Holy Scriptures, with her personal reflections on them’! Fr Philipon has merged the relevant part of the second letter [L314] into, and as a continuation of, L300], both letters having been written to her Mother. [L314] was a letter chiefly about suffering: the word ‘suffering’ was mentioned 8 times, and ‘suffer’ twice. Her concluding remarks are axiomatic: ’contemplate the God crucified by Love, and that contemplation, if it is true, never fails to end in the love of suffering” .
The final letter [L324], entitled ‘God alone suffices’, was written to a teenage girl, and close friend. Once again, she elaborates, albeit indirectly, on (Rom. 8.29) – “there my soul finds rest” [96] – somewhat akin to the style of [L300]. It is just one of a series of ‘goodbye’ letters: in no way is it morbid, in fact it abounds with joy. Her closing advice to her young friend is, “love the Crucified and so be conformed to that divine image” [97]. As noted above, the words ‘transformed’ and ‘conformed’ both appear in this letter.
Poetry.
Her poetry for this period would be spoilt by any attempt to unify it in a summary. The only common feature of those lines associated with the ‘Cross’ is the outpouring of the heart in joy. [P102] is dated for the first day of a novena in preparation for the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. She wrote of the need to share the Master’s Cross; to climb with Him the slopes of Calvary, where union would take place, prior to the culmination of a Love feast with the gentle Queen. [P106] is entitled ‘Have you ever sounded the abyss of Love’ and was written for a postulant. In this she saw the would-be Carmelite as always being worthy of becoming a Bride of Christ, and she then paraphrased Gal.6:14, “God forbid that I should glory, save in the Cross of Our Lord Jesus Christ: by whom the world is crucified to me, and I to the world.” A translation is given in Bancroft [98]. The theme of sharing the Cross was continued in [P113] where she quotes Angela of Foligno’s well-known rhetorical question: ‘Where does He live?’ Do read Fr DeMeester’s footnote [99], where he gives the reference to Angela of Foligno – a substitute reference, but a different translation, is [100]. Translations are given in [101]. Angela of Foligno’s question formed the opening line of [P114] and she used a second quotation commencing, ‘In the shade of the Cross…’. in verse 3. There her theme was that as suffering is a token of His Love, what is there to fear? Offer it to Him by sharing His Cross and He will help you in all that you do. The final verse is reminiscent of [P102]. In her final poem [P118] she asked the question, ‘Who is like God’. For an explanation of the title see [102], or [103] for a translation. In verse 3, she included a slightly modified form of the quotation first used in [P114]. ‘In the shade of the Cross…’ is the only place to learn the meaning of the Cross and of the Redemption.
In varying degrees these poems are part of a montage: covering the last weeks of her life; and complementing the remarks, made in a previous paragraph, about kissing her Crucifix when in pain. In Sr Elizabeth’s poem entitled “The dwelling place of every soul in love” [P114], she pictured the Bride awaiting her Bridegroom in the wedding chamber. Her soul, progressively stripped and emptied by suffering and pain, is a temple of His Love [104]; she has eyes for no-one but Him, and no more fear of pain for He is now her strength. Soon she will soar with Him to the very top of Mount Carmel, the dwelling place of every soul in ‘Love’ [105]. “I brought you into the land of Carmel to eat its fruit and good things.” (Jer. 2:7). There, they will find Our Blessed Lady [106]. Sr Elizabeth wrote in her Last Retreat that “(Her soul) rises, ascending above the senses, above nature, above self. It passes beyond all joy and all sorrow, passes through all things, never to rest until it has penetrated within Him.” [107]. She linked her mountain of pain, her Calvary, with St John’s high mountain: whereon is built the Holy City, civitas Dei (Apoc.21:2) [108] with the Lamb of God [109]. She frequently quoted (Eph.2:19), that we were already citizens with the Saints and of the House of God [110]; where “death shall be no more ….. nor pain any more” (Apoc.22:4). Mother Germaine remarked on Sr Elizabeth’s delight with certain passages from the Apocalypse at about this time [111], although she had been familiar with the work since her clothing at least [112].
CONCLUSION
Conclusions about this kind of material are very personal. You have been to a concert with a friend; you loved it, your friend is lukewarm. You don’t fall out, but agree to differ. So it will be with ‘Elizabeth and the Cross’. My conclusions may well be different from yours; the important thing is that we do draw those conclusions about the place of the Cross in her life; and having drawn them, they are internalised, and lived, as we travel the road of Christian Perfection.
We all experience suffering as a part of ‘natural’ life. We are all well aware that there is no suffering in ‘supernatural’ life – our homeland – only unbounded joy, Love. His Cross links natural to supernatural life. Permission to make the ‘crossing’ is by invitation, the price of the ticket is prayer (lots of prayer!), and to get a passport requires love. As Blessed Elizabeth was fond of saying, “it is so simple!”, Jesus is longing for us to share His Cross, on His terms and according to the Cross which He has given us. From experience, I know that Blessed Elizabeth is also longing to help us, if we would but invite her. I am tempted to add that you don’t have to be a mystic! But aren’t we all, all baptised Christians that is, mystics, having died on the Cross with Him in Baptism? Don’t let us become languid mystics.
May I conclude by echoing the words of Sabeth’s ‘beloved priest’ – the Reverend Mother Germaine of Jesus - who “next to Him, was everything to Laudem Gloriae” [113]. After the death of Sr Elizabeth of the Trinity, she wrote:
Happy are the poor in spirit
1. Although engaged in long family holidays with family and friends in S. of France, she grieved to be near Carmel.
2. Took an active part in social life of Dijon, but always ‘with God’ [10].
3. Asceticism [11].
4. Making her own clothes [12].
Happy are the gentle
1. Embraced the Will of God from an early age.
2. Patient in waiting for entry into Carmel, trusting in Our Lady.
3. Gentle with her Mother, in the sense that she was prepared to give up entering Carmel in order to look after her.
4. As a youngster had a fiery temperament – had to be controlled – letters re: having been a handful to her Mother [13]. Still a hidden problem [14].
5. After confirmation Elizabeth was about keeping a balance between passion and tenderness [15].
6. Self-control – sensitive to the needs of others.
Happy are they that mourn
1. Compassion on visiting the poor [16].
2. Wept for souls lost to God. Zeal for souls [4][bis].
3. Weeping for her own sins during the mission.
4. Compassion for her Mother’s ill-health, and for the suffering her Mother and sister were put through by Elizabeth’s determination to enter Carmel.
5. Natural compassion for her Mother at a very early age for her temper tantrums.
Happy the merciful
1. Her prayer life, catechism class, helping first Communicants.
2. Choir [10],[bis] (singing and helping with).
3. Good works – club for children [17].
4. Didn’t speak ill of anyone or exaggerate [18].
5. Looking after her Mother [19].
6. Not always able to forgive neighbour [20].
7. One may assume that she put her musical talent to good use in the Carmel chapel as she did at Carlipa.
Happy those who hunger and thirst for right
1. Offering herself as a victim for sinners [21].
2. Love of suffering for Jesus, winning souls [22].
Happy the pure in heart
1. Prayed before going to parties.
2. Dedicated her purity to the BVM.
3. Enjoyed the French countryside [23] this showed in her early poems.
4. Her expression in prayer and after Holy Communion – radiant [24].
Happy the peacemakers
1. Effect of First Communion [25] – calm, self-control.
2. Obeyed her mother – after ban [10][bis], after fasting [26] / [27]/ change of confessor [14][bis].
3. Looked after her Mother [19][bis].
4. Prayed for young pianist friend [28].
5. Obeyed Mother Marie as an extra-muros.
6. Helping the extern sisters in the Carmel.
Happy are they who are persecuted
1. Pre-Carmel, must have known about religious persecution.
2. Supported the Church by attending missions, churchgoing, singing with Guite in choir.
Happy are the gentle
Love God for sister [34].
Sister (babies) [35].
Mother [36].
Mtr Germaine [37].
Mme M.L.Ambry (babies) [38].
Happy are they that mourn (all compassion)
Mother [39].
M. Chappuis [40].
Sister [41].
Francoise [42].
Mme de Sourdon [43].
Mme Angles [44].
Mme Bobet [45].
Mme d’Avout [46].
Mme Farat [47].
Loss of baby [48].
Not finding husband [49].
Y. de Rostang [50].
Mme Hallo [51].
Canon Angles [52].
GdeG [53].
Mme d'Anthes [54].
Happy the merciful
Prayers for operation [55].
First Communicant [56].
Carmel request for clothing [57].
Happy those who hunger and thirst for right
Angles [58].
Joy at clothing [59].
Grief over Framboise [60].
Sacrifice in leaving Mother and sister [61].
Religious wishes [62].
GdeG [63].
Mme M.L.Ambry [64].
Abbe Chevignard [65].
Abbe Beaubis [66].
Mme Angles][67].
Pere Vallee [68].
Conversion of souls (Hallo) [69].
Canon Angles [70].
Happy the pure in heart
Beautiful country [71].
Doing the washing [72].
Religion and sister [73].
Angles (general) [74].
Feast Day wishes [75].
Sister marriage [76].
Mother [77].
Abbe Jaillet [78].
Mme Lignon [79].
Happy the peacemakers (peace with ….)
Herself [80].
- prayers asked for [81].
Mother [82].
Sister [83].
Mme de Sourdon [84].
Framboise [85].
Rolland aunts [86].
M.L.Hallo [87].
Mme Hallo [88].
GdeG [89].
Habit sister [90].
Sr Therese of J [91].
Mme Angles [92].
Other religious [93].
Happy are they who are persecuted
Religious troubles in France [94].
Looking after their Mother, until her death, as she promised Elizabeth.
Playing harmonium as a feast day surprise [95][bis].
Asked to sing for feast [96].
Getting copies of music for the Carmel [97].
Getting material [98].
Photographs and a note [99].
Benediction singing [99][bis].
Russian salad [100].
Obtaining a raincoat [101].
Ask for anything [102].
brioche [103].
vestments [104].
inkwell [105].
Picture a familiar scene, only imagine it to be taking place a century ago, on Holy Saturday Night in any church. The appearance of desolation, statues covered, Cross covered, Tabernacle empty, darkness everywhere, and not a sound. Yet the pews were occupied by people in silent prayer, prayer of restrained expectation. Then the Church’s Liturgy of Holy Saturday Night began in the church in semi –darkness, soon the lector read that First Lesson from Genesis about how God created heaven and earth and how He ‘found it good’. The Liturgy proceeded through the Baptismal Promises, each with a resounding affirmative, and the Litanies, to the ‘Mass of the Easter Vigil’.
The ‘expectation’ was at last realised with the intoning of the first words of the Gloria: bells were rung, statues unveiled, and the Gloria was taken up by the choir singing “Laudamus Te, Benedicimus Te, Adoramus Te, Glorificamus Te …” The Easter Preface began “ It is … right … to praise Thee, Lord”, instead of the usual “to give thanks to Thee, Lord”. Nearing the end of the Holy Mass, the Communion and ablutions were followed by Lauds: the singing of those ‘alleluia’s’
[108]; Ps 150, the great psalm of praise; and finally the repeat of the ‘alleluia’s’. The night of heartache, had given way to an early morning of unalloyed joy: Praise Him, Bless Him, Adore Him, Glorify Him. The Easter Celebration Praised the Glory of God by confessing His Goodness; everyone present gave Glory to Him, some Praised His Glory: but God did not differentiate, as He loved all of the worshippers equally! Elizabeth did not use the words ‘worship(per)’ in any of her letters from Carmel, and only once at the very end of ‘Heaven in Faith’.
Elizabeth was no stranger to the ceremonies of Holy Saturday Night and to the sheer joy attendant on celebrating the Resurrection of Our Divine Saviour. In Carmel, she wished to give ever-increasing expression to that joy in all that she did [109]. Her Prayer to the Trinity is just one example of joy simply bursting forth: “Fain would I cover Thee with Glory”. Yes indeed, “Cover my Christ with Glory! This ardent desire of every apostolic heart is in the very framework of the Carmelite vocation: Zelo zelatus sum pro Domino Deo exercituum.” [110].; as is Mount Carmel, with its summit where “Only the honour and Glory of God dwells”[111]. The reading, on Holy Saturday Night, from Genesis reveals how God created all things for His Glory.
Everyone, Carmelite or not, is called to Glorify God – to the Praise of Glory[112]. “It is so simple” [113] - one may ‘cover Him with Glory’ by prayer, spiritual reading, work, suffering, and so on. “He so thirsts to associate us with all that He is, to transform us in Himself” [114]: transformed in Him in accordance with the measure of our love and the extent to which we willingly share His Cross. What is the measure of that love; to what extent does one strive to ‘see’ His Love, with the eyes of faith, in all one’s activities? “A soul which thus permits the Divine Being to satisfy within it His craving to communicate all that he is, and has, is truly the Praise of Glory
of all his gifts.” [115]. “In us, God is His own Glory, in the measure by which He communicates Himself, and according as He Himself is ours, and we, through Him, are His.” [116]. Mother Aimee of Jesus was a perfect example. She was so completely transformed in Him, that only the appearances of her personality remained; and would be to Him no more than a simple veil, beneath which – even while remaining hidden – He revealed His Presence in a thousand
ways.
A Praise of Glory is a soul, docile to the Holy Spirit, and passionate about the Glory of its God[117]. Its passion is dynamic: “May I penetrate more deeply every moment into the depths of Thy mystery” [118]. In Carmel, Sr Elizabeth would naturally seek to glorify God and, yes, she was passionate about it [119]. “Sometimes I used to hesitate before doing what was more perfect lest it might annoy any of my sisters. Now such fears are powerless to stop me; I am ready to pass through fire to perform the Will of God more perfectly” [120]. She was not content to be simply a Praise of Glory, she sought to be Praise of Glory (Laudem Gloriae): the Praise of Gloryto a superlative degree in accordance with the Will of God for her; not through any sense of vainglory, but through a desire to be utterly docile to the Holy Spirit [121]. As is obvious from the listing of the Beatitudes above; Elizabeth in her every action was a Praise of Glory before she entered Carmel, so in what special manner did she feel called upon by the Holy Spirit [122]. to be known as Praise of Glory? It is worth emphasizing that giving Glory to God, or Praising His Glory is a response to the action of the Holy Spirit – the Spirit of Love – at a Supernatural level. One can do nothing without the Holy Spirit, and therefore is nothing.
Whatever God does, He does for His own Glory: He made man for His Glory. Man’s happiness is not His primary concern, but the pure happiness of man glorifies Him, because that happiness is concomitant with His creation of man. What God has created gives Glory to Him by simply fulfilling the purpose for which God created it: the lilies of the field, the birds of the air, the untapped power of a mighty natural waterfall, are examples. In the same way, Man gives Glory to God by simply being himself: being present (say) at those Easter Celebrations; but unlike those previous examples, man is a rational being and the use of his God-given powers: again, in the way intended; gives glory to God at the natural level. In fact, man does not need to know about God, to do this without realising it. For God is in everything and He glorifies Himself in His creation.
Man may be unaware of God; but God is not unaware of the intrinsic goodness of His creation, and where God is, there also is His Love: ”God loved us first” (1 Jn 4:10). The Christian acknowledges this by loving God, and his neighbour through God, with His Love [123]. Loving Him by keeping His Commandments and observing the Beatitudes. Jesus gave new meaning to our social obligations, but
additionally He revealed a reward attached to each Beatitude which is incredible. Yes, it is of faith that the Holy Trinity dwells in our souls, and that we have a foretaste of eternity here on earth. Can our joy at this be any less than that of Elizabeth a century ago? That is not all, if we ‘behave’ as ‘sons of God’ and offer our love in and with Jesus Crucified then we participate as ‘Praises of Glory’: of ourselves, we cannot praise or glorify God, because only God can glorify Himself. Nevertheless, in and with The Crucified in love, even the smallest action can be sanctified [124]. Sr Elizabeth was led by Christ into an even deeper union of spiritual marriage and towards the end of her life felt inspired to use the phrase Laudem Gloriae.
An Analogy – here-below
It may be helpful to think of the 3 phrases in terms of our Holy Mother’s analogy of the soldiers of the King [125]. Many of His untrained soldiers had proved themselves to be good fighters {giving Glory to the King, (praising His Glory)}, and the King selected a small group for on-going training that they might give more credit to Him both on and off the battlefield {Praise of His Glory}. Some of these either didn’t take up his offer or fell by the wayside. The King then chose one soldier from his elite group as a standard bearer for a forthcoming battle {(Praise of his Glory), Laudem Gloriae}. As St Teresa remarked: in so doing, the King confers a special favour, while the soldier has to undertake a heavy responsibility [126]. When the battle was over, the standard bearer returned to normal duties and training {Praise of His Glory}, and was not treated any different from the other trained soldiers.
In some of her letters, Sr Elizabeth may appear to have used the word ‘vocation’ loosely. Her aim was to flesh-out for the benefit of her recipients how the vocation, which is common to us all: to love the Lord, our God; might be achieved.
Referring to her own vocation and to the charism of prayer and
penance, her understanding was progressively widened by the Holy Spirit. At first her ‘vocation’ lay in her name (Elizabeth - House of God) [128]; in the Novitiate and thereafter “let me ‘live by love’ it is my vocation” [129]; and finally to be (- / the) Praise of Glory of God[130] or the Praise of Glory of the Holy Trinity[131].
“My vocation is love” actually appears at the head of several letters in June/July 1906. In reading her letters, it is important to realise that her underlying vocation of love, as a Carmelite, never changed. “I do all by love; I suffer all with love, then the soul is so filled, so
absorbed, and protected by love that it finds the secret of growing by love wherever it may be. Even in its intercourse with the world and amid the cares of this life, it can truly affirm: my sole occupation is love.” [132].
A second point, worth mentioning here, is the difficulty which can arise in the translation of the definite article ‘la’ from the French original: French being a more formal language in this regard than English. It could appear in some letters that Sr Elizabeth is referring to herself as The Praise of Glory with emphasis on the article: implying ‘the one and only’. This, quite naturally, would be the very last thing that Sr Elizabeth would wish to convey. In these notes, therefore, the use of ‘the’, ‘a’, or ‘ – ‘ is determined principally by sentence construction.
Summary
Sr Elizabeth’s comments in her letters on the Praise of the Divine Glory, showed both the importance which she attached to the ‘on-going’ Christian duty of praise [133], and her understanding that it was through Our Saviour Jesus Christ that this “sacrifice of praise” rose unceasingly to God [134]. Although conjecture, it is very likely that she may have heard the phrase “sacrifice of praise” as an extra-muros from Mother Marie of Jesus, almost 3 years before she ‘discovered’ it in St Paul’s Epistles. For Mother Marie’s instruction on the holy Office was, “The holy Office is a sacrifice of praise. God’s praise has to be a sacrifice on earth. This sacrifice rests on our Lord’s sacrifice, offered on the altar, for the Glory of the Father. We make one praise of Glory, one living praise together with our Lord, who lifts us up in His own act of deep adoration.” [135].
Her comments appeared in approximately 44 of her letters (extant) from Carmel and, as always, she had selected her recipients with care. Before her attention was drawn to the phrase Praise of Glory she simply wrote about giving Glory to God and, even later on, continued with this practice with some of her recipients. There seemed to be a certain reluctance, in print, to refer to a person performing an action which gave Him Glory, as praising His Glory. Strictly, she was quite correct for only God knows this. Equally, she did not apply the term Praise of (His) Glory without a ‘definite article’, to anyone other than herself. The phrase was not used in her letters, while she was developing her doctrine: for example, it was almost a year later that she wrote to her childhood confidante, “I am going to tell you a very personal secret .. “ [136]. One can
understand a reluctance about sharing the secret of her ‘new name’ Laudem Gloriae; although not about sharing this with anyone other than a Priest or Nun. A very special exception here was her sister Guite, and Sr Elizabeth signed GV with Laudem Gloriae.
A time line showing the first mention of the 3 phrases is given below. Note that 2 of the phrases could appear in the same letter and that Laudem Gloriae was often used simply as an epithet.
Praise and thanksgiving evoke joy. “We were created for joy. … True joy is found in the perfect willing of what we were made to will” [137].
Joy was a favourite word of Sr Elizabeth and she used it in a variety of situations. When she applied it to herself, the context was almost invariably associated with God and unambiguous [138]. She was giving joy and, in turn, was experiencing joy because by conforming her will to the Will of the Master, she was giving Glory to God. For example, in a letter [139] prior to clothing, Sr Elizabeth referred to giving joy to her Master’s Heart by giving herself completely to Him. Similar letters preceded her Profession [140]. Not every use of the word joy was so unambiguous, and these examples are not considered further in these notes.
Sr Elizabeth began referring specifically to the practice of giving Glory to God, after she had been in the Novitiate for 6 months. There is nothing unusual, or unexpected, about her remarks; but there is a definite feeling of joy being kept in check [141] - “I wish to be a saint, that I may glorify my divine Master”. In 5 letters written over the next 3 months [142] she was really addressing the wondrous gift of faith: that the God in whom we believe in, lives in us and we live in Him (1Jn 4:16b); and that God unites our souls in Him to His Glory [143]. Now since Heaven is God, Heaven is also the Glory of God, and the Glory of God is in each soul through sanctifying grace. “The Praise of Glory is the reception of God’s Glory by the creature, as the sunlight in a translucent crystal, so that the Praise of Glory is in fact no less than the Divine Glory itself manifest in a human spirit” [144]. Since each one of us is united to God, we must be united to each other, and to the Saints. The difference is that “the One (we) adore in faith … the glorified contemplate face-to-face” [145], “ in the light of vision” [146].
How the Prayer to the Trinity enlarges on this ineffable mystery! “O my God, Trinity Whom I adore! … that I may bury myself in Thee, … May nothing draw me out of Thee, … may I at every moment penetrate more deeply… Give peace to my soul; make it Thy heaven, Thy cherished dwelling place, … Let me never leave Thee there alone, but keep me there, in living faith … O my Christ, fain would I cover Thee with Glory and love Thee … Immerse me in Thyself; … O my beloved Star! so hold me that I cannot wander from Thy light! O my ‘Three’, my All, my Beatitude, Infinite Solitude, Immensity wherein I lose myself! Bury Thyself in me that I may be buried in Thee … “
It is all too easy to take this gift of faith for granted: all too easy to lose one’s faith; but not when that faith is a ‘living’ faith [146][bis]. “Faith makes future blessings so certain and so present to us that they are evolved in our soul and subsist there before we actually
enjoy them” [147]. Sr Elizabeth suggested we achieve a ‘living faith’ by conforming to His Will in everything [148], thus giving Him Glory. His response is to deepen our faith which means, in effect, that we become more filled with Him: “The super-eminent power of God is flowing into your soul to transform and divinise it” [149]. Sr Elizabeth
wrote: “I want to work for the Glory of God, and for that I must be wholly filled with Him; … “ [150]. She illustrated the all-embracing nature of the word ‘work’ in a very compassionate letter to a Third Order Franciscan lady who had experienced, and was still
experiencing, suffering in her life [151]. “There is no wood like that of the Cross for lighting the fire of love in a soul. … And Jesus so needs to be loved … He is always with you, be always with Him, in your sufferings remain in His sight, see Him present, living in your soul.” [152]. She ended her letter triumphantly, “Dear Madame, let us meet in Him who is Love, and may our lives be consecrated to His greater Glory” [152][bis]! In her poem, “In the bosom of the Three” [153], she referred to immolating oneself for the Glory of God. She repeated this a month later in another poem, “The Carmelite”
[154].
The next letter to this lady contained the phrase Praise of His Glory. Only the second time that it had been used in a letter, since her attention had been drawn to it almost one year earlier! There were 4 letters in all; addressing the question of how this lady could Praise His Glory, through offering her suffering to God. Not unnaturally, here was some repetition.
If one looks on every trial, and every joy, as coming from Him [155], then He must be continually giving Himself in Love, simply because He is in all things. With each trial one is invited to be more united with Him: to “return love for Love” [156]. Every action giving Glory to God, every prayer, every forsaking of self, creates an aching void in the soul, which God fills with his Love; thereby transforming the soul more-and-more in Him. At some point, one is almost bound to ask, “Can I really believe this in faith?” In her letters Sr Elizabeth gave many quotations directed toward a ‘Yes’ answer. To list but a few: “We are already a temple of God” (1 Cor 3:16); “The Son has power from the Father to give eternal life” (Jn 17:2);” We are predestined to be conformed to His image” (Rom. 8:29); “I have not come to judge but to save” (Jn 12:47).
The protest that one is too wretched, or sinful, can be countered by asking, “Did He say that?” Sr Elizabeth’s counter was also unassailable: “We will be purified, not by looking at this wretchedness, but by looking at Him who is all purity and holiness” [157]; or again,
“He dwells in us to save us, to purify us, and transform us into Himself” [158]. So one abandons one’s self to Him, and trusts in Him completely. One jumps into His arms [159] and knows the peace and joy that comes with His Love. If one has any difficulty in doing this, then, like the Good Shepherd that He is, He is there bending over, only too happy to lift one up in His arms to safety. One is Glorifying Him and giving Him joy. Put another way, the problems of one’s life have been handed over to Him, and one is left with nothing to do except to be a Praise of His Glory[160]. The approach to suffering in these letters has been covered in previous updates.
In 1903, from Aug. 23rd for 5 of the next 6 Sundays, the Epistle readings at Holy Mass were from Ephesians and 4 of the quotations in the letter of Sep. 20th were from Ephesians [3]. The point being made is that Ephesians could have been on Sr Elizabeth’s mind: although perhaps not sufficiently, for her to start reading the Epistle from the beginning. Pere Philipon explains how her attention was drawn to the opening verses of that Epistle by another nun, and how Sr Elizabeth subsequently had difficulty in locating the particular quotation that she was looking for [4].
Was this the first time that she had read (Eph. 1:12) and when did she read it? Whatever the answers to these questions, the Holy Spirit had been gently guiding her to this point, and the phrase would have delighted her: if she did hear a similar phrase from Mother Marie, it was not called to mind. Probably the ‘discovery’ was made early in the new year (1904), and perhaps she reflected on it during her retreat to mark the anniversary of her Profession. It is unlikely that it was before the start of Advent (Nov. 29th 1903) because there was nothing unusual about her letter to the Abbe Chevignard, written on Nov. 28th [5].
Letters to Abbe Chevignard
It is evident that the Abbe Chevignard [6] was a key helper in Sr Elizabeth’s development her doctrine of Praise of Glory, as this phrase was mentioned in 6 letters to him [7].. There are points of linkage between all of these letters, and it would be a mistake to think that Sr Elizabeth was simply being repetitive. The first letter [8], seemingly quite ordinary, was written just prior to Advent 1903. It is important for 3 reasons.
First: the letter was obviously a reply to one in which the Abbe had discoursed on the meaning of Sr Elizabeth’s name in religion, and she had completed the link to her motto, “God in me, and I in Him”. This led into her quote from St Paul,” We belong to the city of Saints and to the house of God”. (Eph. 2:19) She noted that, “my soul is carried away in the great vision of the Mystery of mysteries, in the Trinity, … “ , and the transformation [9] of the soul in the Trinity. She commented on how she buried herself in her soul, losing herself in the Glory of the Trinity: which she would repeat a year later in her Prayer to the Trinity.
Second: the letter confirmed that Sr Elizabeth had been continuing with her reading of the ‘Spiritual Canticle’ and was being guided by the Holy Spirit towards the highest states of spiritual union. This confirmed both Sr Elizabeth’s ‘immense love of God’ [SC39:2] and the degree of her transformation in God [10].
Third: if, as remarked above, the letter was seemingly ordinary, then the next letter which she wrote to the Abbe [11] was sufficiently different, as to be very out-of-the-ordinary.
The letter was out-of-the-ordinary in that it contained 6 quotations from St Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians [11][bis]: there having been an interval of 4 month’s since Sr Elizabeth had last quoted from Ephesians. Unfortunately, the letter was not dated. In a footnote [12], Fr De Meester explains how he was able to establish the date as Jan. 25th 1904 : a year after her Profession as a nun, and almost a year before she composed her wonderful Prayer to the Trinity. Sr Elizabeth elaborated on the Charity of God [13], which enabled us to love Him and our neighbour. If we did this, our will was conformed to His Will, or we were the Praise of His Glory. The date of her letter was important because this was the first use by her in a letter of the phrase, the Praise of His Glory.
While concentrating on the date of the letter and the phrase the Praise of Glory, Sr Elizabeth’s remarks on Charity, and the adaptation to herself of Our Lord’s remarks in His Farewell Discourse (Jn 17) , may get overlooked; especially as they will not be picked up again in a letter for almost 2 years, in the present context. She noted that as members of the one body both she and the Abbe, should sanctify themselves “for souls”: that is, for the entire Church. “There are 2 words that sum up for me all holiness, all apostolate: Union and Love” [11][bis]. She mentioned her longing not just simply to dwell in the Trinity, but to be quite hidden (e.g., Col.3:3).
However much she may have reflected upon the phrase, note that her remarks amount to nothing more than a suggestion that she and the Abbe Chevignard should be “the Praise of His Glory” . She did not say that this was to be her new name, nor imply that it signalled a ‘change’ in her vocation. Rather, one forms the impression that she needed to spend time meditating on the words while, at the same time, ideally living them in a deeper way [14]. This could explain why the word Glory was not included in any of her letters written over the next 10 months. Then, in her spontaneous composition of the Prayer to the Trinity, when addressing Christ she wrote, “Fain would I cover Thee with Glory” [15]. This phrase was still on her mind in the new year and she fleshed it out as, “If you bear this state of powerlessness with fidelity, with love, you can cover Him with Glory” [16]. She also included the phrase the Praise of Glory: only the second time that it had been used, after an interval of a year.
Sr Elizabeth’s first letter (extant) after the Prayer to the Trinity was to the Abbe Chevignard [17]. Although there was no mention of Praise of Glory, she re-affirmed her wish to bury herself in the Trinity [18] quoting from (Gal.2:20) . This was repeated “let us disappear, forget ourselves …”, in a letter previously mentioned [16][bis]. She had ended her letter to the Abbe, “Let us live by love..”, and 8 months later she was to add (significantly), “with an ever growing passion” [19].
A few weeks earlier, Sr Elizabeth had made her overall intentions clear in a New Year greeting: “May this be a year of love all for the Glory of God” [20]. She remarked on how her recipient would be able to say with our Saviour “Father, I have Glorified You on earth …” (Jn 17:14), because she was engaged in lay apostolate work: “to give God to souls and souls to God” [21]. That there was no mention of the Praise of His Glory, in an activity so dear to Sr Elizabeth’s heart, and about a lady whom Elizabeth had been very close to when in the world [22], may appear strange.
In 3 letters to the Abbe Chevignard [23] Sr Elizabeth showed that she had been thinking about the Glory that we praise. In other words, about the light of His Glory shining forth. She referred to the Holy Trinity bending over the Abbe Chevignard at his ordination to the deaconate and to the rays of the great Light piercing his soul (2Cor 4:6) and causing the Glory of His Grace to blaze forth [24]. She used the same phrasing in a letter to mark his ordination to the Priesthood a few months later [25][26]. In this letter, had Sr Elizabeth assumed her mantle, when she wrote, “do not forget the one He led to Carmel so that she might be (the) Praise of His Glory” [27]?
Just before going on retreat in October 1905 [28] she asked the Abbe Chevignard [29] to consecrate her “as a sacrifice of Praise to His Glory” [30] that everything about her retreat would be a “homage rendered to His Holiness” [29][bis]. As she remarked later, “sacrifice is love put into action” (Gal 2.20) [31]. There was no obvious clue in her letter about the likely substance of her retreat, although she did quote “from the great heart of the Apostle for his dear Ephesians”. Later, in the report of her retreat to her community [28,bis] , two quotations from Holy Scripture set the scene: “You are dead and your life is hidden in Jesus Christ in God” (Col.3:3), and “Our life is in heaven” (Ph.3:20)[32]. Then, all her actions would glorify Him , and she would be transformed into “the Praise of Glory to which she was predestined .. “ (Eph.1:11-12) [33].
Sr Elizabeth quoted (Col.3:3) and (Ph.3:20) in her next (and last) letter to the Abbe Chevignard [31][bis]. She also quoted, “You already belong to the City of Saints and the House of God” (Eph.2:19) from her letter of two years previously [34]. Again, one must be careful with the repetition, not to overlook the dynamic deepening of her life in God. She mentioned detachment, an on-going detachment so that the soul becomes more-and-more filled with Him: filled with Him, the Source (Jn 8:25) of all truth (Jn 8:26); more-and-more transformed in Him. Her prayer was that she might give Glory to God. She did not mention Praise of Glory in this very important letter!
LAUDEM GLORIAE
Introduction
“I love this thought, that the life of the Priest (and of the Carmelite) is an Advent that prepares for the Incarnation in souls.” [31][bis]. In her letter, almost 2 years before [33][bis], she had anticipated this gem, by referring to the pre-requisites of holiness and apostolate as, ‘Union and love’. She went on, in her latest letter, to quote the psalmist “fire goes before the Lord” (Ps.96:3) and then asked rhetorically, “ Isn’t fire love? And isn’t our mission also to prepare the way of the Lord through our Union with Him whom the Apostle calls a “consuming fire”? [35]". Whenever that mission is carried out in the body of the Church, with Him, and in Him; He is glorified. Towards the end of her letter Sr Elizabeth asked that on the 4th anniversary of her clothing, the Abbe Chevignard might offer her to God that she may truly be Laudem Gloriae.
When Sr Elizabeth’s attention was drawn to the phrase Praise of Glory, it is noted in MPA/HMH that she went away to look up the Latin equivalent: Laudem Gloriae [36]. This would have been sometime in January 1904. It is natural to suggest that because she not use this Latin equivalent before November 1905, she may have attributed a difference of meaning to it; or did she simply intend the Latin equivalent for use when/where the ‘vernacular’ would have been out of place?
An outline of Sr Elizabeth’s distinction between the 3 phrases, based solely on her letters in Carmel, would appear to be as follows.
Anyone, in a state of grace, may give Glory to God: it is our calling. Many of her correspondents wrote because they believed, that as a nun, she could alleviate their distress caused by illness and bereavement. Sr Elizabeth sought to draw them into the Love of Jesus, and through their suffering to give Glory to God and to be transformed in Him. Other people were pursuing an apostolate that gave Glory to God, like the lady who “gave God to souls and souls to God” while herself “being nailed to the Cross … by neuralgia” [37].
Anyone who seeks to live in Love, who seeks to remain recollected, may through the power of the Holy Spirit, be transformed in the Indwelling Holy Trinity [but the person cannot effect this transforming action]. Transformation is not ‘once-and-for-all’. It is dynamic in degree: always increasing, or decreasing. Sr Elizabeth quotes St Paul, “hidden in Christ with God” (Col.3.3), for the benefit of the entire Church [38] this person is the Praise of His Glory: their ‘apostolate’ Praises His Glory. She advised the lady, who was traumatized for many years after a serious operation, “let us disappear, let us forget ourselves, let us be only the Praise of His Glory” . This lady entered religious life later, aged 75 [39].
As the degree of Sr Elizabeth’s Union with the Holy Trinity, of transformation, increased and her soul was absorbed entirely by God, again for the benefit of the entire Church, there would appear to have been a seamless reversible transition between Praise of Glory and Laudem Gloriae: since the degree of Union (on earth) was according to the Will of God. From Sr Elizabeth’s letters, this transition was taking place before she entered the infirmary.
Occurrence of Laudem Gloriae
‘Discussion’ by Sr Elizabeth of the word Laudem Gloriae within the text of a letter [40], was an exception, and the norm was its use as her name in the text or as a signature. Her ‘new’ name appeared in 13 letters: no additional information was given about her understanding of the phrase, and in 7 letters and 5 poems, it was used as a signature [41].
Sr Elizabeth had been developing her doctrine for almost 2 years and, apart from finishing touches, it was complete. Only then did she tell her trusted childhood confidante: “I am going to tell you a very personal secret: my dream is to be “(the) Praise of His Glory” [42]. Surely, it was a very personal secret, all those years ago, when she climbed onto his knee and told him that she wanted to become a nun; and then, he was the first to be told her secret. Her letter highlighted 3 points of her doctrine: fidelity, detachment, and selfless attachment to the interests of Holy Mother Church. She wrote that her Bridegroom had confirmed her vocation was to be Praise of Glory [43] “while in exile” (here on earth). In passing, note that a similar (possibly ambiguous) remark was made in an earlier letter to the Abbe Chevignard [44] but it was to him that she revealed her new name of Laudem Gloriae.
The French text from Ephesians (1:11,12) was quoted in Heaven in Faith as, “la louange de sa gloire”, as expected; then in the same section Sr Elizabeth wrote, ‘Louanges de gloire’, when asking the rhetorical question, “ … how do we … become perfect Praises of glory … “ [45]. Accepting that one must be in Heaven to be the perfect Praise of Glory , Sr Elizabeth also accepted that a soul incompletely transformed in Love, would be the closest that one could approach perfection here on earth [46]. Her transformation in her Bridegroom, coupled with her very advanced prayer life, was complemented by a “deeper understanding of the perfect” Praise of Glory [47]. Was it coincidence that 2 letters, a month apart, should both open with: “our conversation is in Heaven” (Phil 3:20) and this same quotation appeared in PN16 (her October Retreat) [48]?
Letters to her Mother and sister
It is noteworthy that she never wrote about Praise of Glory (etc.) to her Mother at any time. Whereas at the end of a short letter thanking her sister for food, that she had supplied to the Carmel; and written within days of the letter to her childhood confidante, Sr Elizabeth signed as: “Laudem Gloriae.” and added, “That is what we’ll both be called in Heaven! …” [49]. Guite was too close to her sister not to have guessed that she was very ill.
After her near death in April 1906, Sr Elizabeth wrote what was thought to be a final letter to her sister. She included a very brief sketch of her doctrine, which should enable Guite to become a Praise of Glory, and then finished with: “you will be (the) Praise of His Glory I dreamed of being on earth” [50]. This could mean either that she was yet to realise her dream or that she would be unable to continue as Praise of Glory for very long ‘here below’. The latter is the most likely meaning [51] and she continued: “I will be Laudem Gloriae before the throne of the Lamb, and you, Laudem Gloriae in the centre of your soul; we will always be united,” [50][bis]. It would be unrealistic to think that Guite could ‘replace’ Sr Elizabeth or even that she fully comprehended what Sr Elizabeth had in mind. Remember that up until January 1906, Sr Elizabeth had not included any material about Praise of Glory or about Glorifying God, in letters to her sister. Even then, Laudem Gloriae only appeared as a signature [52]. This supports Fr De Meester’s conjecture that Guite knew nothing about the Treatise HF being intended for her [53].
In the next letter to her sister [54], whom she referred to (twice) as ‘little’ Praise of Glory, there was no mention of Laudem Gloriae. Instead, she wrote about love and asked that Jesus would teach Guite the science of love [55]. That letter was signed, in part, Praise of His Glory. She signed the next 2 letters Laudem Gloriae! The first of these letters was nothing more than a brief note [56]. In the second letter, the gravity of her illness was all too apparent: “Little Guite help me to prepare for my eternity*, “hide (this letter) well because of mama” [57]. Despite this, she continued with the ‘preparation’ of her sister: “let us overlook no sacrifice … give everything to the Master.” [57][bis]. She concludes her letter with a reference to the mystical lyre on which the divine touch of Holy Spirit would produce Praises of Glory . In her brief sketch Sr Elizabeth had remarked that the Holy Spirit would transform Guite into a mysterious lyre. One is reminded of Sr Therese’s love of this particular imagery [58].
Considering the period after Sr Elizabeth’s August retreats, there are 6 letters (extant) to her Mother, and 1 letter (extant) to her sister. No mention is made of giving Glory to God, Praise of His Glory or Laudem Gloriae. In the letter to Guite, Sr Elizabeth asked her to write about her interior life. Fr De Meester has not commented on whether there was a reply. One may suppose that Guite’s own suffering at that time was intense.
Other Letters
Although interest has been centred on the use of Laudem Gloriae by Sr Elizabeth, there were also letters referring to giving Glory to God and the Praise of Glory. Considering the period up to the start of August, when HF was written: after the Cenacle days of silence (May 25th – Jun 2nd), and especially after she had regained the use of her legs (Jul 8th ?); not only did St Paul abound, so also did Glory to God and Praise of Glory! Increasingly, of course, as her illness became rampant, she was writing only to Priests and Religious.
In 2 letters the question of whether she was a Praise of Glory here on earth was resolved with an affirmative answer [59]. The quotation from St Therese, “My vocation is love” [60] appeared at the head of 3 letters [61] and in a poem [62]; she was not usurping it, for in a letter to a Prioress [63] she wrote “your vocation is love”, in other words it should be applicable to every Christian.
Another interesting development in letters to 2 Priests was a request that, in their celebration of Holy Mass, they should consecrate her as a Sacrifice of Praise to the Glory of God [64]. It was at the start of 1905 that Sr Elizabeth started asking Canon Angles and the Abbe Chevignard to consecrate her during the celebration of Holy Mass [65]. Doubtless she would have asked Priests who visited her in the infirmary in the last 3 months of her life; but there is no written record in Sr Elizabeth’s letters, simply because none of her letters (extant) in these last months were written to Priests.
'HEAVEN IN FAITH'
Introduction
Over the last 2 years of her life Sr Elizabeth increasingly referred to herself as either Praise of Glory or Laudem Gloriae: where Glory is understood to mean the Glory of God. The meaning which she attached to these titles was summarized at the end of her spiritual treatise Heaven in Faith, and this summary: albeit slightly abbreviated; was included in the Souvenirs [66]. The purpose of the treatise was to acquaint her sister, Guite, with her interior life: the Heaven in Faith which she experienced in her own soul while still here-below. Bearing in mind that the treatise was written a century ago, one might describe it loosely as Sr Elizabeth’s rule for Christian Perfection.
“Christian perfection, according to the testimony of the Gospels and Epistles, consists chiefly in charity which unites us to God [67]. Lacordaire stated that “Truth is charity, and charity is the gift of oneself to friends and enemies without distinction” [68], and he linked this to the beatitude “Happy are they who suffer persecution in the cause of righteousness”. The virtue of charity corresponds to the supreme precept of the love of God.” to which all are called”. “He that abideth in charity abideth in God, and God in Him” (1Jn4,16) ”above all .. have charity, which is the bond of perfection” (Col.3.14). The wonder of the perfection to which Our Saviour calls us, is nowhere more clearly, simply, and beautifully expressed than in the Beatitudes. The Sermon on the Mount does not set aside the Mosaic Law but perfects it.
We must go to God in His way; we shall only be saints in the measure wherein we adapt ourselves to the divine plan [69]. Is the way of a Praise of Glory, as described by Sr Elizabeth in Heaven in Faith, the same as that outlined by the Beatitudes? Are the 2 ways the same, but simply couched in different 'terms'? Both ways are centred on charity and lead to the loftiest ideals of Christian Perfection, but are there any differences (say) of emphasis or approach?
The Treatise
Heaven in Faith was written in Love with love as a farewell testament for a sister who was devotion personified [70]. Guite was a ‘daughter of her Mother’ in that she was very religious, and there is no doubt that her deep spirituality influenced her husband [71]. Guite’s youngest daughter, Genevieve, testified that her Mother “walked in the footsteps of Aunt Elizabeth” [72]. Guite treasured each of the 38 letters written to her from Carmel by her sister, each with some spiritual guidance; and one may easily guess just how much this personal spiritual treatise meant to her. “ In it Sr Elizabeth emphasized that we are destined to be God’s Glory; that the Trinity dwells within us, even though we may know this truth only in faith; that we must forget ourselves, so that God can take full possession of us. If we live according to these truths, we can be sure of living in God’s presence now and in eternity” [71][bis].
Sr Elizabeth wrote the treatise over the normal 10 day period of a Carmelite retreat. She wrote “prayers” for each day on different facets of the interior life. ‘Heaven in Faith’ is a magnificent pastiche of quotations from Scripture: principally St Paul’s Epistles and St John’s Gospel; the works of Ruysbroeck; and St John of the Cross: principally the Spiritual Canticle and the Living Flame of Love. Absorbing this pastiche on love, one realises that the soul can be prepared, through grace, to realise, as fully as possible in this life, Heaven in faith. Christian perfection is centred on Divine Indwelling in the soul. In emphasizing this objective [73]. Sr Elizabeth quotes in part from her favourite saying: “I live, now not I: but Christ liveth in me.” (Gal. 2:20). The degree of preparedness of the faculties of the soul is measured against an ultimate ideal, unattainable in this life “the intellect is completely enlightened by knowledge of God, the will captivated by love of the supreme Good, and the memory fully absorbed in contemplation and enjoyment of eternal happiness.” [74]. Face-to-face with God in Heaven, the soul truly knows God as it is known by Him (1Col.13:12b). The transformation which the soul sought here-below is complete, for it truly is in Light, Life and Love [Novissima Verba]. As Sr Elizabeth remarks, “that is … a perfect Praise of glory” [75].
THE HYMN OF ADORATION
Towards the end of the treatise, some of the principal threads are drawn together as Praise of Glory is mentioned for the first time [76]. Starting with the ‘famous’ quotation from Ephesians (1:11-12), she asks rhetorically, “how do we correspond to our vocation and become perfect Praises of Glory of the most Holy Trinity” in the Heaven in faith of one’s soul, here-below? [75][bis]; and she goes on to develop her answer in 4 propositions, which are considered in detail in Part III of this Update. Sr Elizabeth compares the worship of the Blessed in Heaven with her worship in her soul: her Heaven in Faith; and even allowing for the weakness of nature: “she always sings, she always adores, for she has, so to speak, wholly passed into praise and love in her passion for the glory of her God” [77].
“I love Him; that is all I know how to do, I love Him with His own Love.” [1].
A PRAISE OF GLORY IS ...
Proposition 1 .. (1st Part)
A Praise of Glory is a soul that dwells in God [3], that loves Him with the pure, disinterested love [4], which does not seek self [5] in the sweetness of this love, a soul that loves Him above all His gifts [6]; and even if she had received nothing from Him, would have loved Him, and desired good for the Object of her love.
A soul that dwells in God. The ‘discovery’ that the Holy Trinity dwelt in the soul made a never-to-be-forgotten impression upon Elizabeth. “The Trinity - this is our dwelling, our “home,” the Father’s house that we must never leave.” [7] Yet, this is only part of the wonder: “If anyone acknowledges that Jesus Christ is the Son of God, God lives in him, and he in God” (1Jn 4:15) so, “Let us make a dwelling for Him in our soul that is wholly at peace” [8]. Life in Christ begins for every Christian with Baptism: it transforms their life – “God dwells in our souls” [9]; because we receive the faculty of love.. Baptism completes us, for as St Augustine phrased it, “Thou hast made us for Thyself, and our heart has no rest ‘til it comes to Thee”. Living in and by Christ, we live in and by His Love: “the love of Christ poured into our hearts by His spirit dwelling in us” (Rom.5.5) [10]; because the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Love, dwells in us in a special way, with all His gifts.(1Jn 4:13) “Come Holy Spirit fill the hearts of the faithful. Kindle in them the fire of Thy Love”; because it is only through His Love that our love is lifted from a natural to a supernatural level. Our Blessed Lord made this point in the allegory of the Vine, “I am the Vine, you are the branches.” (Jn. 15:4) He also said that the vine dresser would prune the branches, that those that fruited might fruit more abundantly. In other words give glory to God. As Sr Elizabeth would have said, “It is so simple”: love God, feed that love with the Eucharist and Praise the Glory of God through Jesus. Children do not try to hide their pleasure at Holy Communion, and Jesus shows His pleasure through the radiance of their faces [11]. Hence Sr Elizabeth made it clear, from the outset, that any Christian in a state of grace, is able to fulfil the purpose of their creation by giving glory to God the Father through, in, and with, Jesus. It is a beginning, but only a beginning, for they have the potential to be a Praise of Glory.
Why did God make us? “To know Him, to love Him, and to serve Him, in this world; and to be happy with Him forever in the next”. [13] “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy whole heart, with thy whole mind, with thy whole soul and with thy whole strength.” (Mark. 12:33).
We must love Him with our heart. Our principal affection must be for Him, we must detach ourselves from anything which reduces that affection. We should love our neighbour – but note: ‘for His sake’, and ‘ourselves’ for His sake.
We must love Him with our mind: to know Him. We were made for God alone. He should be always present in our thoughts, we should occupy ourselves with the things of God, and we should show forth God in our speech. We should also seek instruction on our faith.
We must love Him with our soul, to serve Him: ready to sacrifice everything for Him – wealth, honour, life itself; prepared to renounce everything, to suffer everything, to lose everything, rather than break the commandment to love Him. Our love for Him must raise us above all pleasures of sense, all human respect, all human fear, all promises and threats. We should live in the belief that to lose all for God’s sake is to gain all: “Whosoever shall lose (his life), shall preserve it.” (Lk17:33).
We must love Him with all our strength; unbounded love: our intentions, actions, prayer, piety; our frequenting the Sacraments, works of charity, suffering the pains and sorrows of this life.
“Let us love God: because God hath first Loved us.” (1 Jn 4:19).
Yes, God expects our love [14], a love of welcome into our souls, a love of awareness of His presence, a love of attention to Him both in prayer and penance: in fine, a love of all creation. Sr Elizabeth struggled to express her overwhelming love for Jesus: “He is my infinite (“and in the infinite one can always go further still [15]), in Him I love, I am loved (by “my friend of every moment” [16]), and I possess All”[17]. She used Sr Thérèse’s inspiration of a little child going to its Mother as the only way to express her love for Jesus while lying in His arms [18]. “If only you knew how well He understands” [19]; “one has to be so simple with God, Who is so good and so kind” [20].
“We love God with His own Love.” [1,bis]. “It is such a simple thing to love. It is a matter of accepting all His desires, just as He accepted all His Father’s desires” [21]. We would understand by ‘His desires’, His Will or His word. “If anyone love me, he will keep My word.” (Jn 14:23); the Commandments and Beatitudes, together with the Precepts of Holy mother Church and the Spiritual and Corporal Works of Mercy are replete with examples of how to keep His word and, therefore, how to love Him. Examples, which address God, our neighbour, and our-self, and which should all be performed with our love, as servants doing the Will of God from the heart (Eph.6.6): that is, by, in, and with His Love; and offered to God through Jesus. “He that loveth not his brother whom he seeth, how can he love God whom he seeth not”. (1 Jn 4:20). Jesus commended to us the spontaneous act of the ‘good Samaritan’(Lk.10:30): Sr Elizabeth wrote, “When some great suffering or some very little sacrifice is offered us, oh, let us think very quickly that “this is our Hour,” the hour when we are going to prove our love for Him.” [22]. We sometimes forget that the ‘reward’ for doing His Will in the Beatitudes (say) is here-and-now: for the ‘soul dwells in God and loves Him’. Sr Elizabeth expressed this as a syllogism, I have found my Heaven on earth, since Heaven is God, and God is [in] my soul [23].
A pure love is unalloyed love for God: unmixed with anything. It is an end in itself: so that if we find ourselves tiring in that love, then it could not have been pure. Only God knows if our love for Him is pure, which develops our humility and trust in Him. However, conforming strictly to that definition of pure love would hardly give glory to God for His creation, which He found ‘very good’. God is not competing for our love; and because one may not compare the ‘Creator’ and His ‘creation’, neither may one compare or contrast love for God with love for one’s neighbour. St John of the Cross refers to ‘cause’ and ‘effect’ [25]: creation is loved as an ‘effect’ through God as the ‘cause’ and not vice-versa. To love our neighbour for God’s sake: i.e., to love him through God; does not invalidate pure love, for God is the primary object of our love. In fact, loving him through God increases our love for him. Since he was created by God, his person: as distinct from his qualities, is infinitely worthy of our love. Augustine Baker uses the word friendship when referring to the love of our neighbour [26] because our love is terminated in God alone; highlighting the fact that we love nothing, but Him, or for Him. In no way does this demean the quality of our love, as evidenced by Holy Scriptures, which is replete with references to friendship: “Thy friend, whom thou lovest as thy own soul” (Deut. 13:6); “Greater love than this no man hath, that a man lay down his life for his friends” (Jn 15:13).
Love for our self, self-love, is understood to mean a love which begins and ends in ourselves, and so is unacceptable. We love ourselves in moderation in order to be able to give glory to God, we practice utter forgetfulness of self: we feel nothing. “One does not live any more in one’s self when one truly loves, because one feels the need to forget one’s self unceasingly” [27] “We are what we love. If we love God in whose image we were created we discover ourselves in Him and we cannot help being happy: we have already achieved something of the fullness of being for which we were destined in our creation.” [28]. In our desire to love God, and our neighbour for His sake, we must guard against insidious forms of self-love: the obsession that both love and the beloved, are treated as possessions; and of jealousy because God appears to be purifying our neighbour in a different manner to ourselves. Even if we forget ourselves, and are not possessive, our love is still only ‘pure’ at the human level: to think otherwise is self-love in another guise; and God has to complete the purification process in His own way. Our love has its source in God – He alone can increase it; He alone controls our feelings of affection and joy: if we stay united to Him. “We should have no other ideal than that of our being conformed to this divine model: in complete self-contempt, if we always had the eyes of our heart fixed on Him” [29]. As we come to love Him more, and we give of ourselves more completely to Him, we no longer question whether we love, but we leave our loving to Him – our love is then becoming more pure. We abandon ourselves to Him, as a child in his arms with our head on his Heart; not for a short time, or at intervals, but for always.
If we know, love, and serve, God in this world, then Heaven is our reward for eternity. Obviously, we had better do what God wants, otherwise we will not be eligible for the promised reward which we desire! This is a good example of self-love because our motive for loving God is ‘self’, and not ‘God’. Firstly, let us love God solely for His glory, then in faith we know that the reward of happiness is ours because God has so promised. This is pure love, because our interest, which God approves of, is of secondary importance to the primary motive of giving glory to Him. Suppose though, that we genuinely hand over to God what the future holds: we invite God to accept any merit that we may have acquired, for His use [30]. Before we take this irrevocable step, let us remember that our gift to God is just that: the content of the gift is then no longer ours. This is disinterested love: a phrase that could be thought unfortunate, because we are not interested in a gift which God originally gave us. Of course the disinterest is not directed toward the loved one but toward self. Sermons on disinterested love often liken the Kingdom of God to a marriage feast, and are based on (Lk. 14:8,9) and (Prov. 25:6,7). A wonderful example of disinterested love is the Heroic Act of Charity in which we can offer to God any merit, that He has given us, for the relief of suffering of the Holy Souls. It is usually associated with the Eucharist. It is heroic, because whoever makes this act is willing to accept the undiminished pains of Purgatory for the good of his neighbour.
One may posit that the soul is in the illuminative way, ‘loving God with a pure, disinterested love.’ There is no contradiction in terms here, the soul does not have to be in the unitive way, provided it loves God to the full measure, revealed to it by Him. Each soul is treated individually by God and progresses at its own rate towards the summit of the Mount of Perfection. His grace potentially activates gifts of the Holy Spirit residing in the soul. If the ‘prompted’ soul freely chooses to turn more towards God, charity arises in the mutual union of God and the soul and further purification takes place in this bond of Love. The gift of fortitude helps the soul undergo the suffering of that purification. This is accompanied by a desire to glorify God in her love, which is so sweet [34]: the foretaste of Heaven. “Sweetness” is an attempt, agreed by most mystics, to describe the feeling created by God in the soul, attendant on union: St John of the Cross wrote that it was greater than the aroma of balsam [35]: he uses the same aroma for the acts of will responding to the graces of God, in the Spiritual Canticle [36]. He also suggested that the Vine feeding the branch in a virtuous soul supplied it with a sweet tasting wine [37]. Finally, when lasting union is achieved, the soul experiences God “with such great sweetness” [38].
St John of the Cross is careful to point out that here on earth we are unable to taste the essence of God. Therefore whatever we taste, or think that we taste, it is not God. He encourages us to respond to the sweetness, to keep us aware that He is the ultimate goal: as we are drawn closer to Him so we are progressively purged of both the need, and the desire, for that sweetness. St John uses the difference between the ‘feelings’ and the ‘will’ of the soul; to point out that the soul would feel quite happy to stay where it was in delectable sweetness, but the operation of the will causes the soul to seek God, and God alone. Hence the love of the soul is undefiled, since ‘the soul does not seek self in the sweetness of its love.
A soul that loves Him above all His gifts. Sr Elizabeth is asking us to think ahead, as a preparation for spiritual marriage. The phrase is a challenge for everyone. It is redolent of ‘The Spiritual Espousals’ of Ruysbroeck, who illustrated his work with many, easy to follow, analogies as well as using mystical imagery. He used this phrase at the end of a discourse centred on the preparation for the Marriage Feast (Matt.25:6) [39]. “At midnight there was a cry made: “See the Bridegroom is coming. Go out to meet Him.”” Ruysbroeck assumes the Bridegroom to be Jesus, and he looks at the 4 elements in the cry: which are treated here in brief. We “See” supernaturally by loving God in the light of His grace: we are in a state of grace, free of mortal sin. “The Bridegroom is coming” and we are continually preparing for this. He came 2000 years ago on earth; He comes everyday in our souls; and He will come again at the Judgement. Love for Christ, our desire, and our intention, to meet Him; compels us to “Go out” practicing ‘virtuous activity’ in humility: observing the Commandments, and practicing the Beatitudes with respect to ourselves and our neighbour. The Bridegroom may be far off for all we know, but we send ‘messengers’ to inform Him that we are on our way. These messengers are our gifts to Him: gifts of ‘love’, ‘intention’, and ‘desire’. He knows that we will ‘go out’, and He sends gifts to us. How wonderful are His gifts: the gift of Himself, the gift of ‘Heaven on earth’ with the promise of eternal life, and grace to inform the infused virtues in the soul. As if to emphasize the point that our gifts to Jesus: including the gift of ourselves; originated with God, Ruysbroeck noted that we should love God above all these gifts.
The exchange of gifts has taken place and the last part of the quotation, “To meet Him” is realised: the meeting of the Bride (the soul) and Bridegroom (Christ) takes place. In the words of the Catechism, the soul must truly, “know, love, and serve” God. The soul must be assiduous in its ongoing preparation for eternal life; God must have a pre-eminent place in its thought and love; and the soul must display great ardour for God alone [40]. Ruysbroeck suggests that the soul at this level of perfection will be moved by an insatiable desire to ‘know, love and serve’ God more perfectly; and, as an analogy to illustrate this he uses the meeting of Jesus with Zacheus (Lk.19:1-10). This aptly illustrates our desire to see Christ as well as Him coming to stay awhile with us in our souls. “Come down quickly, for I must stay at your house today”. “Come down quickly”: the quick descent represents our loving desire to be lost in Love. When a soul has both the love and the desire to live in Him, then it is already living in Him and He in it. Jesus fuels the desire with His gifts: gifts without limit in His munificence. The soul responds by giving itself more to Him which is only possible as it becomes further transformed in Him: as it rests in Him. The soul rests peacefully, breathing the air of Love; and with its desire to be further transformed in Him, fuelled by his gifts. This is an acceptable desire of self, for although it starts with the soul, its primary purpose is the glorification of God. As Sr Elizabeth noted, quoting Ruysbroeck, the soul loves Him above all His gifts [41].
We must not lose sight of the fact that the gifts of God are to enable the soul to live at the supernatural level, so that loving God above His gifts does not mean that His gifts are superfluous. The gifts not only sustain purity of love, they further enable the Holy Spirit to flood even the deepest recesses and darkest corners of the soul with His Love; thereby increasing the love of the soul, which can only love Him with His own Love.
And even if she had received nothing from Him, would have loved Him. This translation is slightly different from that in MPA and CW1 [42] To begin with, let us rule out the possibility of having ‘received nothing from Him’: for life itself, both natural and supernatural, is in His gift. The words, ‘even if’ imply that gifts have been received. Nevertheless, the phrase is still difficult of interpretation. By her own admission, Sr Elizabeth loved God with his own Love [43], so to love Him she must have received the gift of His Love. Furthermore, unless she had received the gifts of the Holy Spirit in Baptism, she would be unable to love Him at a supernatural level. Being less pedantic, if God had withheld the precious gift of a vocation to Carmel from Elizabeth, she always said that she would accept his Will and devote herself to caring for her Mother. Had she not learned this lesson very early in life when her Father died in her arms? However, these are examples at the natural level.
At a supernatural level, Sr Elizabeth was well aware that she had been guided by God to the very pinnacle of perfection: spiritual marriage. God made us for His Glory, and our free-will is part of that Glory. “I stand at the gate and knock” (Apoc.3:20): if we choose not to open the gate to Him, that is our free choice and to His Glory. Sr Elizabeth was conscious that she was writing for a Mother who, for whatever reason, could not always open the gate; but she could, and she always did, love Him. Loving Him is of paramount importance, as is the purity of our motive for loving Him. God knows why we do not always open the gate. Our human weakness is such that we often fall short of the ideal. God is never tardy in picking us up, and dusting us down; for He knows all about our weakness as well as about our intentions. He wants to help us: if we will “open the gate”; to make those intentions reality through His manifold gifts. If we love Jesus, then God lives in us and we live in God. Why is this so? Certainly not for our glory, perfection, or happiness: self-deprecating though that thought is. God really does wish those things for us: not for our sake, but for His Glory. God owes us nothing and without Him and His gifts we are nothing. Suppose then, that we have been Baptised, that we do our best to lead a morally good life, and that we know a rudimentary catechism. Notwithstanding, all this, assume hypothetically, that God has told us that we get no more gifts. If we truly love God, we do not waste what He has given us: we can still drink our fill of the water from the wells of salvation.
Even with disinterested love, our motives may only be pure at the human level and God must wish to purify us further. To take the previous example further, suppose that God decided to annihilate our souls when our bodies died, and that He had told us of His intention to do this. It may sound fantastic, but do read on [44]. We have no hope of eternal happiness; oblivion awaits us. How do we propose to spend those last moments before death when perhaps like Sr Elizabeth some of us may well be in excruciating unbearable pain? What shall we be thinking about? Our vocation of love was pointless, there is to be no reward. On the positive side, at least we shall cease to exist, there will be no experience of either pain or joy. Wait now, enough of this self-interest, let us try to see our position from God’s point of view. What rights did we have to eternal life or to that life of happiness? We are still alive: so has He abrogated His rights as our creator; has He ceased to work for His own glory; and has He released any one of us from our obligations as His creature? Whatever has happened to our pure, disinterested love? Can we, in all sincerity, make an Act of Love in the last moments of our lives?
God is Love, He created me in His image: I pray God that, whatever my situation at death, He will grant me the grace to make an Act of Love in His arms.
The “desire to do good things” comes from God (Js 1:17)[45,bis]: Who is all things to the soul, and the good of them all [52]. Sr Elizabeth notes that our desire is met “by accomplishing His Will” [53]: that is sharing His Cross in love, keeping the Commandments and observing the Beatitudes both in regard to ourselves and our neighbour. Note the careful wording, “desires good for the Object” , used by Sr Elizabeth. The Object of our love is God. God, the Summum Bonum, the Good which contains in itself all other good and desirable things [54]; that which completely satisfies the otherwise insatiable desires of our souls [55]. It is natural to give good things to the beloved, but how often have we struggled to find a suitable present for someone ‘who has everything’? Think of the problem of giving ‘good’ to God, Who is the Summum Bonum! All is not lost though, “for it is the intention which counts”: the ‘desire’. God created us for His Glory, and not for our happiness; yet He gave us the means while here on earth to Praise His Glory: and that is our ‘intention’. Good works done in love and with God in mind, facilitate our transformation in Jesus: God in me and I in God. We become one with Him, and are thereby drawn into the infinity of Love of the Holy Trinity: that extra ‘place at table’ depicted in the Rublev Icon.
Proposition 1 .. (2nd Part)
But how can we actually wish and will good to God except by accomplishing His Will, since this Will ordains all things for His greater Glory? Such a soul should surrender [56] itself fully, blindly to this Will, so that it cannot possibly will anything but what God Wills [57].
Examining her requirement piecemeal in the first part, has to some extent pre-empted examination of her answer. The requirement for a Praise of Glory was couched in terms of love and there is a danger that our feelings of reverence, humility, and nothingness, may thereby get overlooked [59]. Yes, we are adopted sons of God, and we are loved by Him; but we are also creatures, and sinners: we have no wish to be exempted from the privilege of adoration and service [60]. “It is written, the Lord thy God shalt thou adore and Him alone shalt thou serve” (Matt. 4:10). Although ‘adoration’ was not mentioned in the 4 propositions, Sr Elizabeth referred to ‘adore’, and ‘adoration’, at least 65 times, in her letters from Carmel; and, 10 times in ‘Heaven in Faith’. She was no stranger to the need to express both filial reverence and profound love in the Heaven of the soul [61]. How often we say in that perfect prayer: ‘The Our Father; ‘…Thy Will be done on earth,…’, knowing that we could be called upon at any time to do His Will. In the letter mentioned previously, Sr Elizabeth emphasized that every gift of His Will, no matter what, which we receive from Him is like a sacrament giving Him to us: as an “emanation of Love” [58,bis]. Therefore we glorify Him, we accomplish His Will, by accepting His gift in love. The Holy Spirit issues the invitation, for we have freewill: if we accept, then His grace will make possible the ‘accomplishment of His Will’; if we hesitate, or refuse, then we should question whether we do ‘wish and will good to God’, and whether we do wish to serve Him.
‘Surrender’ is commonly thought of, as placing ourselves and our future in the hands of an authority that we regard as an enemy: it is synonymous with defeat. Many prefer to die honourably, rather than to surrender. At a supernatural level, everything is topsy-turvy; having surrendered, we are treated like victors, long-lost friends at least, welcomed and garlanded. “There is not one but is bought with the Love and Blood of Jesus. The Priesthood of Christ makes Him our one Mediator Who is ever heard. We are made so rich that henceforward no grace is wanting to us” [64]. Like the man born blind, whose sight was restored by Jesus, let us also follow his example, “I believe, Lord. And falling down, he adored Him.” (Jn 9:38) Then, as now, actions speak louder than words. Sr Elizabeth puts this question to us, “Do you not think that when the heart is captivated by Christ, that heart will not then be able to surrender itself totally, right to the end?” [65] We are given the terms of surrender to Love: “to do the Will of God, in His presence, with Him, in Him, for Him alone; to live all the time in the way that He wishes; and to abandon our faults and infidelities to the consuming fire of that Love” [66]. Terms which represent an absolute, unequivocal, surrender of self [67]; so that the soul cannot possibly will anything but what God Wills. Note that the restriction on the soul is imposed by love; there is no question of a loss of free-will.
Sr Elizabeth uses the word ‘surrender’ in her proposition, because she assumes that the soul is at least in the illuminative way, and it longs for that day when the Holy Spirit will lead it to ‘surrender’.
God is purifying the soul; in other words the will has little, or no, desire for anything apart from the Will of God, “When the will no longer follows its own dictate there will be absolute abandonment to the Will of the Father; when the imagination is silent, there will be “self”- forgetfulness. [68]. Sr Elizabeth brings out a subtle relationship: “Abandonment allows us to surrender to God [69]; and surrender is the sweet fruit of love [70]. Our surrender should be based on ‘faith’, not on ‘feeling’ [71]. Sr Elizabeth expressed her faith at 2 important milestones in her religious life: on the occasion of her Clothing, “Pray much for your little Carmelite, that she may be wholly surrendered, wholly given, and that she may give joy to her Master’s Heart” [72]; and at her Profession, “Please pray, won’t you, that I may be wholly surrendered, wholly vigilant, and that God may accomplish all He wills for my soul” [73]. This last wish is based on Fr Vallee’s remark that, “The entire Will of God for our souls is one of Love” [74].
“Oh really surrender yourself to Him, to His Love [75]; surrender to Him with confidence” [76]. In ‘Heaven in Faith’, Sr Elizabeth examines the implication of having truly surrendered to His Will. “I leave myself in His hands to do all He Wills in me” [77]. She is realizing her vocation: “My only occupation is loving” [78]. More to the point, “she appears on an equal footing with Christ because their mutual affection renders everything in common to both” [79]: in all but essence, that is. This theme occurs in the Spiritual Canticle [80], and in his notes on St John of the Cross’ commentary, Fr Venard [81] uses the heading “Love equalizes; love alone achieves surrender; habitual and loving attentiveness to God’s Will. Not unnaturally, she compares what is happening in her soul: her Heaven in Faith; with the activity of the Blessed in Heaven: as recorded in the Apocalypse of St John (Apoc. 4:8,10). The Blessed in Heaven unceasingly adore the Lamb; how can a Praise of Glory sing an equivalent ‘Hymn of Adoration’ in the Heaven of her soul? The activity in heaven is already being mirrored in her soul because God is being adored in Heaven, and in her soul. The form that adoration takes in her soul is suggested by the Holy Spirit. Now Sr Elizabeth was docile to the movement of the Holy Spirit, she continually abased herself in her nothingness, she was conformed to Christ in his suffering, and transformed in Christ to the highest degree possible for a creature on earth. In her, the activity was centred on ecstasies of love. She, herself, referred to these as ‘adoration’, an ineffable love attendant on being plunged into, and lost in, the beauty, majesty, and power of the Love of the Triune God [82]. Adoration, described by Lacordaire, “as the last effort of the soul which overflows with love and can ‘say’ no more”. Overflow is a sure sign that the soul is transformed in Christ to the full extent possible here-on-earth. Through being docile to the Holy Spirit the soul had become nothing. Yet, perversely, 'nothingness' actually prevents the overflow of Love, because the last vestiges of 'self' are deceptively hidden under the cloak of 'being nothing' [83]. Even the nothingness has to be surrendered, that the Praise of Glory may hymn its silent adoration.
“Mother, you will not be here, but do not fear: when
I shall have risen to God, you will be the first to know it,
and no one will know it before you.” [1]
A PRAISE OF GLORY IS ...
Proposition 2
A Praise of Glory is a silent soul [3], a lyre [4] beneath the mysterious touch of the Holy Spirit, from which He can draw divine harmonies. Knowing that suffering [5] is a string which produces still more exquisite tones, this soul rejoices at having it on its instrument, that it may thus more sweetly move the heart of its God.
Are we not struck dumb, in the silence of wondrous adoration on our Mount Tabor; when we receive the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Jesus in our own humble soul [7]? Surely, then, if at no other time, we experience the reality of Lacordaire’s words: “as the soul overflows with Love and can say no more”. “I am the Bread of life” (Jn 6:48). “He who eats My Flesh and drinks My Blood, abides in Me and I in him” (Jn 6:57). We gaze, face-to-face in darkness: in faith; on the incomprehensible wonder of God present in the soul; and keep silent before the greatness of Him who died for us. “May our simple gaze on Him separate us from everything and fix us in the unfathomable depths of the Mystery of the Three, while we await the Bridegroom’s “Veni”.” [8]. In that gaze the soul is filled with Love, which engenders a deep reverence for God.[9]
Very early in her young life, Elizabeth had learned to listen in faith to Jesus in the depths of her soul. For example, well known facts are: that Elizabeth’s vocation to Carmel was confirmed in the silent depths of her soul, as a teenager [10]; that she was aware of Him in her soul during the great mission of 1899. Her first communication in death was in silence to the soul of Mother Marie. Mother Marie, to whom Elizabeth owed so much as an extra-muros, and who had passed on to her daughter the Carmelite’s profound love of silence.[11] “The life of a Carmelite is silence, so she loves that above all” [12]. Elizabeth’s love of silence was well known to her sisters, as is evidenced by the Chapter entitled “The Ascesis of Silence” in MPA . “There is a wholly adorable intimacy when you realise that; you are never alone again!” [13]. The soul is penetrated to its very depths, and darkest recesses, and becomes aware of an alarming void: alarming, because the soul is even bereft of its own nothingness. “ O Deep! O Unfathomable Mystery! my soul becomes your humble sacrament, let us glorify the Father in Jesus, in silence and contemplation” [14]. Sr Elizabeth’s letters from Carmel leave one in no doubt that however ‘familiar’ she may have seemed with God, it was always against a background of deep adoration which she linked with a silence that permeated her very being [15]; and that can only be described as infectious. “I keep silent to adore Him” [16] for “The soul needs silence in order to adore” [17].
“Silence is the attitude by which we honour the reality of God” [23]. When the soul seeks God in solitude; gradually, familiar everyday sounds fade; to be replaced in turn by silence, and then by an awareness of a ‘presence’: God. For example: Elijah stood on the mountain waiting for the Lord, the Lord was not found in the strong wind, nor in the earthquake, nor in the fire. "And after the fire there was the sound of sheer silence. And when Elijah heard it he covered his face" [24]. When in prayer, Simone Weil, had the distinct impression of being transported to a place where there was "neither perspective nor view" and which seemed to stretch to an “infinity of infinity”. Silence filled every part of space, “a silence which was not an absence of sound but which was the object of a positive sensation, more positive than that of sound.” [25] “A voice from Heaven, as the noise of many waters” (Apoc. 14:2): the ‘silent music’ [26] of the ‘novum canticum’ [27]. Two familiar biblical quotes about silence are “Silence is praise” (Ps.65:1) [28], and “Be silent and know that I am God” (Ps.45:11). Translations vary, often only slightly from bible to bible. With both of these quotes, the ‘casualty’ is the word silence. This is no criticism of biblical scholarship: for it is simply the failure of words to convey an ineffable concept. Silence is a good description of ‘a soul in faith before God’: it is what we expect; yet although it is a good starting point, the word doesn’t quite convey that ‘something’ which is so very intimate. In Psalm 45, ‘Be silent’ is also rendered as ‘Be still’ , ‘Pause awhile’, ‘Wait quietly’, ‘Let be then’, ‘Cease striving’, etc.: each example adds more colour, but also serves to illustrate that inherent difficulty. Although Sr Elizabeth wrote, “Une louange de gloire, c’est une âme de silence… “ , in these notes it is assumed that the understanding, which she was attempting to convey, was closer to the Latin ‘vacuo – to make empty, or void’ of Psalm 45 [29].
“Jesus spent the first 30 years of His Life in silence, then when He came out of that silence to speak to men and establish the Kingdom, as soon as He had spoken He withdrew into the silence of the desert and the mountain” [30]. He withdrew into the desert to pray to His Father. “The Desert Fathers, in their withdrawal from all useless intercourse, show us the purifying function of silence” [31]. The presence of the Holy Trinity in the soul made Sr Elizabeth realise that, interior life cannot blossom unless the soul is a desert of silence: completely denuded; “The Lord is in His Holy Temple: let all the earth keep silence before Him” (Hab. 2:20). A few days before her death, Sr Elizabeth penned her heavenly mission, “to draw souls, by helping them to go out of themselves in order to adhere to God” [32], “behold I will allure her and will lead her into the wilderness: and I will speak to her heart” (Osee 2:14). In heaven not only did she wish to be Laudem Gloriae, it was her intention also to assist souls on earth to become Praises of Glory in the silence of God.
The whole of Our Blessed Lord’s Passion ran its course in silence. Yes, He answered authority, but His Sufferings were borne in silence. He is silent too in the Blessed Sacrament: “He Wills to be silent in every condition.” [33] Again, Sr Elizabeth applied this to the interior life: He is silent in the Heaven of our souls; so what need have those souls for words? “It seems to me that there is no need of set forms of words, (souls) penetrate the Infinity of God, and there, in that silence and calm where He Himself is, they hear what flows from one to the other.” [34]. “He has united us so closely! Let us hide ourselves in eternal silence” [35]. Hiding ourselves in silence was the underlying message when, Our blessed Lord spoke of the need to pray in the secret ‘room’ of our soul (Matt. 6:6). Sr Elizabeth suggested that we should construct a little cell in the soul [36] wherein God could be found. From time-to-time during the day, we could then go there to simply be with Him, in silence. Gradually these visits become more frequent, and longer in duration, until the soul remains almost permanently recollected in God: one abides in him in a manner so captivatingly described by Sr Elizabeth in ‘Heaven in Faith’ [37]. The idea of a cell is thought to have originated with St Catherine of Siena who lived for some 3 years as a recluse in her home, before being drawn back into the world by the Holy Spirit.
In the Commentary on the ‘Living Flame of Love’, St John of the Cross presents an alternative ‘analogy’ of purification, in which the honour and glory of God is assumed [40] to reside in the deepest centre of the soul, in its substance [41], and the ‘fictional peaks’ of Mount Carmel are replaced by ‘degrees of love’. He observes that love is the inclination of the soul and the strength and power which it has to go to God, for, by means of love, the soul is united to God [42]. The Holy Spirit works from within the soul and in silence, at its deepest centre, in the purification of our love [43]. At any given ‘degree’ of that love, we are quite convinced we cannot love God to a greater extent than we are doing: that the flowers will not grow more profusely nor bloom better. Then the Holy Spirit ‘waters the garden’ and invites us to try again, and Jesus guides us in the next degree of love. This also happens time-and-again. St John explains that at each degree, the soul in its love, is centred in the Love of God. As we advance through the degrees of love, so the silence of our soul improves; we experience His Love more profoundly; and we become more deeply centred in Him. Although here-on-earth, we are unlikely to reach the ‘deepest centre’: which corresponds with the summit of Mount Carmel; God is never remote from us, and we always experience the joy of His Love to an ‘overflowing fullness’ concomitant with the degree of our love [44]. Whether we seek God on the heights of Carmel or in the depths of our soul, we need to embrace purification with lively faith, with buoyant hope, and with complete detachment, in the silence of our soul. “The love of silence leads to the silence of love” [45].
Silent to all that is ‘not God’. “Whatever is not God is nothing, and as nothing we ought to reckon it” [46]. There are no weeds in Our Lady’s garden, only flowers. Of course Our Lady gives the Gardener a free hand, whereas we seem to delight in growing a few weeds: we are our own enemy in the parable of the cockle (Matt. 13:24-30)!. So it is with our senses. Our ears listen to the Word of God; but also take in the cacophony of modern living, and gossip. Our eyes behold the Crucified; but stray to everyone else in sight. Our tongue voices the responses at Holy Mass, but afterwards spends a disproportionate amount of time talking with our neighbour and distracting others. No doubt, we do sincerely desire to remain recollected, and to ‘pray ceaselessly’, yet somehow we fail to curb the excesses of our senses. Although silence of the ears, the eyes, and the tongue reduce the spurious activity of the powers of the soul: memory, understanding and will; excessive silence would be counter-productive, for those powers were given to us by God for our eternal salvation. Hence, we strive to make those powers fit to use according to the Will of God [47] in our soul of ‘silence to all that is ‘not God’’, thereby making room for the Word of God [48]. “In all you do, remember your end, and you will never sin” (Ecclus 7:40).
The input from the senses fires the imagination: we can re-live the past, distort the present, and pre-determine the future. Nevertheless, it was to the imagination that Jesus appealed, when He spoke in parables. Realistically, ideas which the imagination conjures up relating to the past, or to the future, are of no moment. As to the present, with discipline, one can gradually tighten the rein on a hyperactive imagination through the intellect, the will, and a buoyant hope of eternal beatitude, to make our imagination a valuable faculty, directed by right reason and illumined by faith. Mother Marie refers to “living by the grace of the present moment before God”, as the ‘Silence of Simplicity’ [45,bis].
How often have we used the phrase, ‘Let’s forgive and forget’ in our dealings with friends, only to find that it is really difficult to ‘forget’? Then, another time and to our dismay, we realise just how easy it is to forget God! “They forgot His works: and they waited not for His counsel” (Ps. 105:13). We have a convenient memory! Is it any wonder that the silence of self-forgetfulness is so elusive: “Help me to forget myself utterly” [49]; let me prove to You, Lord, that my love is pure and disinterested; help me to achieve that void in my soul, and to strive with ‘determined determination’ [50] and with that “poverty of spirit” insisted upon by St John of the Cross [51], to climb Mount Carmel. “Help me to forget myself entirely, totally, unreservedly, without fear or susceptibility, in the big and the little things, O my God, help me” [52], to live in God, to rise above self so as to be a Praise of Glory. It is so important that the void is real, and not a sham: one must turn with ‘determination’ to face God, away from looking at one’s self, “For this you must be uprooted from self, or act as if you were by denying self wherever you meet it” [53] “To love, it is to forget one’s self, so as to be lost in Him that one loves” [54]; here-on-earth, one can be lost, but not completely lost, in His silence. [55]
Spring-cleaning is usually a time of discovery, as well as one of removing cobwebs! Things put safely away as treasures a year ago, are consigned to the dustbin as rubbish. At one time or another we are all guilty of amassing useless material in a filing cabinet (say). Perhaps we might need ‘X’; and we must save ‘Y’. A year on, did we need ‘X’, or look at ‘Y’? Often ‘X’, and/or ‘Y’ relate to spiritual matters, and alongside the ‘useful’ is the ‘useless’: the result of an overt curiosity, arrogant pride, or spiritual blindness. These latter items cannot just go in the dustbin, and spring-cleaning will mean attending to the ‘silence of our intellect’ through purification. How often have we shut up the filing cabinet and tried to forget?
The Holy Spirit’s Gift of wisdom and the Virtue of faith enable us to purify the intellect of error, ignorance and arrogance. St Thomas writes of the wisdom to live by faith, “that habit of mind whereby eternal life is begun in us, making the intellect assent to what is non-apparent” [56]. One might pray also for the Gift of ‘Fear of the Lord’, that in all humility, charity, and self-contempt before God, we conform our spiritual learning to the teaching and tradition of Holy Mother Church.
Sound knowledge of the Faith is the bedrock for our love of God; for our will tends to the good, which is known through the intellect [57]. Through our will we become good at what we do, either as a hobby or for a living. We become good at prayer, but for quite selfish reasons unless our will is ‘silent’: unless our will has for its ‘object’ not just good, but the Summum Bonum. Then we know that ‘silence of abandonment’: the sheer joy and confidence experienced when in His arms, “He leads me into that deep silence that I never want to leave again” [58]. Unfortunately, only part of our will is conformed to the Will of God: part is not, our self-will. Self-will is born of self-love and it serves its own end, instead of God. All our desires, joys, fears, and sorrows must be subject to God: we must be subject to God. “Inordinate love of self is the cause of every sin” [59]. Purification is aided by our buoyant hope in eternal beatitude, but attention to the Virtue of charity is more likely to be effective [60]. St Catherine of Siena said, “The soul cannot live without love” [61]. Since the object of our will, and obviously our love, must be God, and not ourselves; we can achieve this through the ‘silence of detachment’. God does not ask us to cut out all our friends: they are His friends as well; He simply asks that we ‘see’ them through Him, instead of vice-versa. He asks also that we love Him by doing His Will: to keep His commandments in the spirit of the sermon on the mount. In the ‘silence of love’, let us strive to be in His company day and night, to gaze on Him with the eyes of our soul, to imitate Him, to forget our-self in the Praise of His Glory.
a lyre. The ‘silence’ gradually acquired by the soul enables it to hear more clearly the ‘silent music’ of God: unheard by the ear [64]. In the Spiritual Canticle, St John uses the words ‘silent music’ to denote the soul’s almost complete freedom from self-love: the soul is advanced in the illuminative way and the song of the heavenly choirs fills her with “silent music, sounding solitude “ [65]. Further on in the poem, as the soul is being fortified and prepared to enter the unitive way, the Bridegroom makes use of “pleasant lyres and by the sirens’ song” to fill the soul with sweetness and refreshment to combat the ‘ups-and-downs’ of the powers of the soul and to re-form the passions [66].
Although background information on the lyre is not necessary, it has been included because it may be found helpful with Sr Elizabeth’s reference to the lyre in this proposition. In Roman mythology, Mercury was claimed to be the inventor of the lyre, and he was subsequently the patron of shepherds. Although this is disputed in Greek mythology, there is agreement about the association with sheep. The first instrument was made from the shell of a nymph, Chelone, who had been condemned to perpetual silence and changed into a tortoise, for being late at (some sources say: ‘absent from’) Jupiter’s wedding. Although the lyre has fallen into complete desuetude, replica’s are still made: the smallest of these is called a chelys and is built up from the shell of a tortoise. Undoubtedly, the lyre is of great antiquity and is known to have been introduced into Greece through Asia-minor from Egypt. It was well known in Old Testament times and scholars are firmly of the opinion that David played on a lyre and not on a harp [67]. The instrument was often referred to as a ‘melodious’ lyre, and mythology cites examples of Arion charming dolphins, and Orpheus charming savage beasts and infernal gods, with the music. It is but a short step, to appreciate its use in accompanying certain species of poetry: themes of love, devotion, friendship; and by extension to songs and hymns. It was played with both hands: the fingers of one hand, and a plectrum held in the other. There are two examples showing female figures playing the lyre preserved in the Vatican: one on a statue of Apollo, the other on a Roman fresco painting. The number of strings could vary from a minimum of 3 up to around 10; and it is worth noting that the strings could not be stopped with the fingers. Hence the number of notes which could be produced, was the same as the number of strings: which is an important feature in the mystical use of the lyre to produce ‘silent music’.
With her passion for music; and later on, verse; it is impossible to date Elizabeth’s introduction to the lyre. However, it is likely that this coincided with the publication of the 2nd edition of Sr Therese’s autobiography, ‘Histoire d’une Ame’ because Elizabeth refers to a lyre in the opening line of her poem to mark her visit to Lourdes in July 1898. All of Sr Therese’s references to the lyre are mystical: the ‘face of Jesus’ is a lyre [68]; the human heart is a lyre [69]; and her sister Celine is the lyre of Jesus [70]. In passing, it should be noted that the painting of Sr Therese in the autobiography, shows her with a small 10 string harp, not a lyre. Elizabeth would have been familiar with these mystical uses of the lyre before she entered Carmel, but she made no reference to the lyre, either in her poetry or her letters, before she entered the infirmary in March 1906. On 8th April, Palm Sunday, Sr Elizabeth was granted a deep mystical experience. About 3 weeks later, she wrote to Guite, “I don’t know if the hour has come to pass from this world”; she knew that Guite must be prepared quickly to be Laudem Gloriae ; and so she continued, “the Holy Spirit will transform you into a mysterious lyre, which, in silence, beneath His Divine touch will produce a magnificent canticle of Love” [71]. Here is the core of Proposition 2. Here we have Sr Elizabeth’s sister, Guite, as the lyre of the Holy Spirit; while in Sr Therese’s letters [70,bis] her sister Celine is the lyre of Jesus. In a letter to her sister written on the feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, Sr Elizabeth implicitly confirms her equality in love with Guite as she links phrase after phrase to her: “I do everything for both of us”, “it is for both of us”, “let us overlook no sacrifice”, “if He takes your sister, it would be to be even more yours”, “little sister, echo of my soul”, “the homeland of the two little sisters”, “wish I could make my soul pass into yours”, …… and “That is our refrain on our lyre of Praises of Glory” [72]. Separate wills, and Praises of Glory; but one soul in Him and one lyre under the touch of the Holy Spirit. It is implicit that even as the Praise of Glory is ‘in Christ’ (Gal.2:20); the lyre must also be in Christ and ‘heard’ through Christ (Gal.3:27). Finally, there is nothing to equal this tribute to her sister, on noticing Guite’s unselfish love for her husband: “I ought to be, like her, an instrument from which the divine Master can draw the melodies He loves best, effacing myself to give Him all the glory, only seconding His action by cooperation with His grace.” [73]
Sr Elizabeth wrote both a poem and a letter to mark Mother Germaine’s feast day in 1906. She concluded her poem [74] by writing that the Prioress would hear Sr Elizabeth’s lyre with its sweet refrain of love from heaven; and although she did not mention the lyre in her letter, she referred to the Prioress as “our shepherdess and our queen” [75]. The poem was entitled, ‘The Dream of a Praise of Glory – Intimate memories’, and it was written 2 months before her ‘Heaven in Faith’ retreat and the propositions for a Praise of Glory. In the short interval between the end of that retreat and her ‘Last Retreat’, she wrote to her beloved Mother Marie to mark her feast-day, “On her lyre is always the hymn of silence, is not that the most beautiful of canticles” [76], and a day later she wrote to another religious, “and with David sing to the Lord on our lyre: ‘I shall keep my strength for You’ “[77]: as with the letter to her sister there is one lyre [72,bis]. In both letters, she referred to herself as Laudem Gloriae[76.bis][77,bis]. Apart from the use in ‘Heaven in Faith’ and the ‘Last retreat’ [76.bis] these were the only references that Sr Elizabeth made to the ‘lyre’ while in Carmel.
Every now and then, we have to be reminded that however independent we might be in our natural lives, the opposite is true at a supernatural level, “Without me you can do nothing” (Phil. 2:13)[80].
The soul does not act on its own initiative; but is docile to the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, completely surrendered in loving attention to God. As the bride in the Spiritual Canticle says, “I gave myself to Him indeed, receiving nothing” [81] and she continues, “now my exercise is in loving alone” [82].
When we were baptised as Christians, we were given Gifts of the Holy Spirit together with infused Virtues. These were to enable us to be followers of Christ, in the supernatural sense. “The path of the just, as a shining light, goes forward and increases even to perfect day” (Prov.4:18). The Gifts are certain perfections in man by which he can be docile to the illumination, and the inspiration, of the Holy Spirit in a supernatural manner. The Gifts assist, and perfect, the Virtues by raising them to a supernatural level, and can accomplish things beyond the powers of the enhanced Virtues [83]. St Thomas states that “the operation which proceeds from a Virtue perfected by a Gift is called a Beatitude [84]. The Beatitudes are the “string-makers”, not the strings, and are necessary travelling companions on the way of the Cross. “By good works you may make sure of your calling and election” (2P.1:10).
Every Beatitude is pleasing to God, and the outpouring of Divine Love to the docile soul, resulting from the exercise of a Virtue, is manifest in the ‘Fruits of the Holy Spirit’ [85]. “By their fruits you shall know them” (Matt.7:16). Fruits are not virtues, because they are not habits; but are acts proceeding in us under the influence of the Holy Spirit [86]. There is no 1:1 relationship between the Fruits and the Virtues [87]. The fruits are the other strings on the lyre and, although important as such, the real interest centres, not on the fruits themselves, but on the use to which these have been put. This is because the fruits cannot be offered to God as our spirituality, whereas their ‘use’ can be. In the same way that the strings are not the same as the sound created by the vibrating strings; so the fruits are not the same as the use to which they are put. [88] The ‘uses’ are carried to God as loving harmonies arising from the strings, to ‘praise the Glory of God’ (Ps.33:2); conveying the praise, the reverence, and the service which we, as creatures, owe to Him. Praising: joyfully acknowledging God for what He is; reverencing: joyfully preferring what is good, true, and right; and serving: joyfully giving back to God our free-will: “I with nothing to give, give back my whole self” [89].
The ‘Beatitudes’ are now examined briefly to relate these to the Gifts, Virtues (spiritual habits), and Fruits (acts of virtue), so as to suggest possible strings for the lyre, in situations where suffering and joy would also be strings.
How happy are the poor in spirit: theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Perhaps, either we, or our neighbours, are downtrodden, no longer able to cope with life, oppressed by authority, elderly, or unemployed. Strings: Benignity, Charity, Continency, Goodness, Mildness, Modesty, Suffering, Joy. Virtue: Temperance. Gift: Fear of the Lord, instils scorn for riches.
Happy are the gentle: they shall have the earth for their heritage.
Perhaps, either we, or our neighbours, have suffered the loss of earthly possessions or friends, or have been subjected to adversity or disgrace; but we are not letting this affect our love of God or sour our relations with other people. Strings: Abandonment, Charity, Chastity, Fidelity, Longanimity, Mildness, Patience, Peace, Suffering, Joy. Virtue: Justice. Gift: Piety.
Happy are they that mourn: they shall be comforted.
Are we weeping for our sins at the sight of the Crucified; for the loss of loved ones; or for those suffering tyranny, oppression, and injustice? Strings: Charity, Goodness, Modesty, Patience, Peace, Suffering, Joy. Virtue: Hope. Gift: Knowledge, enables us to prepare the way of the Lord, to disdain the vanity of the world, and to do the Will of God.
Happy are the merciful: they shall have mercy shown them.
The Cross is Infinite Mercy, when we bear it we become merciful. How do we measure up with the Corporal Works of Mercy? Do we feed the hungry, refresh the thirsty, help the stranger, clothe the naked, visit the sick and those in prison, and bury the dead? Strings: Benignity, Charity, Goodness, Mildness, Modesty, Patience, Peace, Suffering, Joy. Virtue: Prudence. Gift: Counsel, to re-animate and to encourage.
Happy those who hunger and thirst for righteousness: they shall be satisfied.
Are we passionate in our pursuit of virtue? “He that is righteous corrects his way” (Prov. 21:29). How do we deal with set-backs, contradictions and disillusionment as we labour for the glory of God, as we seek to triumph over self-love? Strings: Fidelity, Goodness, Longanimity, Patience, Suffering, Joy. Virtue: Fortitude. Gift: Fortitude.
Happy are the pure in heart: they shall see God.
What is our inward purity like? Are we attached only to God with unalloyed love? Do we practice mortification, asceticism, and self-denial? Do we see our neighbour through God? What about outward purity: our purity of intention; not indulging in guile? “If thy right hand scandalize thee, cut it off” (Matt.5:30). Are we careful not to provide fodder for the scandal-monger? Strings: Charity, Chastity, Fidelity, Modesty, Suffering, Joy. Virtue: Faith. Gift: Understanding, to purify the eyes of the soul.
Happy are the peacemakers: they shall be called the sons of God.
Do we face unpleasantness and unpopularity when there is a need to establish peace; facing up squarely to the difficulties? Would we be prepared to sacrifice everything, even our lives, in the cause of peace? Strings: Benignity, Charity, Goodness, Longanimity, Patience, Suffering, Joy. Virtue: Charity. Gift: Wisdom.
Happy are they who are persecuted in the cause of righteousness: theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven. The various aspects of this Beatitude are covered collectively by all of the others.
It is usual to include the evangelical counsels along with the Beatitudes. These contribute as ‘a way of living’ to the ‘living’ of the Beatitudes; and as that ‘living’ is dynamic so the strings on the lyre: our spirituality offered to God; are ever-changing.
“Let us walk through life “free from all save
our love,” our soul and heart fixed on God” [1]
THIS UPDATE IS OFFERED TO THE PRAISE AND GLORY OF THE SPIRIT OF LOVE
A PRAISE OF GLORY IS ……..
Proposition 3 A Praise of Glory is a soul that gazes [3] on God in faith [4] and simplicity [5]; it is a reflector [6] of all that He is; it is a bottomless abyss [7] into which he can flow and outpour Himself [8]; it is also like a crystal [9] through which He can radiate [10] and view His own perfections and splendour [11]. A soul which thus permits the Divine Being to satisfy within it His need to communicate [12] all He is, and has, is truly the Praise of Glory of all His gifts [13].
Proposition 3 is constructed along similar lines to the previous ones: a requirement is given in the principal clause of the first sentence, and this is enlarged upon in 3 subordinate clauses. The proposition is then briefly summarized in the concluding sentence. Sr Elizabeth sets another bench-mark high up on Mount Carmel, which not all souls will pass in this life. This does not mean that we should not strive to achieve these aims, or that they cannot be achieved. For God often bestows His gifts quite unexpectedly, when He assumes the role of window cleaner with the dirty windows referred to by St John of the Cross [14].
In Proposition 2 Sr Elizabeth emphasized the actions of the Holy Spirit as central to her concept of a Praise of Glory: as central to the mystical life, “He will teach you all things” (Jn 14:26), and “He will make perfect those who are progressing” [15]. Unless we believe this, unless we become increasingly docile to the Holy Spirit in a ‘living’ faith, our continued transformation in Jesus will be halted, for “No man cometh to the Father, but by me” (Jn 14:6). The soul’s chief care is never to say ‘No’ to God, “to see that no obstacle is placed in the way of (the Holy Spirit) that guides it upon the road which God has ordained” [16].
A Praise of Glory is a soul that gazes on God in faith and simplicity; Before considering this clause in its entirety, it will be useful consider the 3 words: ‘faith’, ‘simplicity’, and ‘gaze’.
Faith. There are many definitions of faith, the official one of Holy Mother Church is, “a free assent to the whole truth that God has revealed” [17]. In two of Sr Elizabeth’s letters she quotes faith as “the face-to-face in darkness” [18]. How very apposite this is: it is through His Love that we ‘gaze on God’ face-to-face in darkness, without recourse to any images, as we seek Him in faith, “the imageless bareness which is God” [19]; and that faith can be, as it must be, a living growing faith if we say ‘yes’ to God when He invites us to peer more closely into the darkness. This also gives meaning to the light of faith, “God has made faith the light of life” [20]. A few weeks before her death, Sr Elizabeth had occasion to write more forcefully, “Oh, if you knew how we live by faith in Carmel, how imagination and feeling are excluded from our relationship with God” [21]. Once again, her words are apposite, not only in Carmel, but in the world at large: since it is only by faith that we can know God; faith requires the gift of ourselves to Him [22], “a personal and unconditional act of self-surrender” [23]; for we can never know Him unless we ‘sit at His feet’ and are taught by the Master: “Hear Him for I have no more faith to reveal, neither have I any more things to declare” [24].
The ideal, the destiny, of a Praise of Glory is to love God with a perfect love: “loving Him with His own Love” [25]. Now, “perfect love is based on perfect faith” [26]. Instinctively then, we look to God to illumine our faith, by revealing the truth about Himself. Our prayers will surely wound His Sacred Heart: His love for us has always been perfect and He longs for us to return His love freely. Every time we make a simple Act of Faith we echo His own words, “Sanctify them, O Father, in truth: Thy word is truth” (Jn 17:17). As we “open the eye of our soul in faith” [27] and grow in faith, docile to the prompting of the Holy Spirit [28], so we get to know Him more intimately and we freely return His Love more and more. St John of the Cross compares faith to “the feet wherewith the soul journeys to God” while Love is “the guide that directs it” [29].
Sr Elizabeth actually left her spiritual treatise “Heaven in Faith” untitled. Mother Germaine gave it the title, “How to Find Heaven on Earth”, while Père Philipon shortened the title to, “Heaven on Earth”. Fr De Meester thought the title, “Heaven in Faith” more appropriate [30]. Sr Elizabeth used that phrase in her letters from Carmel, applying it both to the Dijon Carmel and to her soul [31]. Although ‘faith’ may not be explicitly mentioned in every letter; it is certainly implicit for it leaps up from every page, “Without faith it is impossible to please God” (Heb. 11:6) and “Let us awaken our faith, let us recall that He is there, within, and that He wants us to be very faithful” [32]. As a Bride of Christ she would have loved the text, “I will espouse thee to Me in faith” (Osee 2:20), perhaps having heard Mother Marie’s comment on this, as an extra-muros: “The soul feels that enclosed in these words are the hidden treasures of life: it is there that God is infallibly to be found”; and prayed her beautiful prayer: “Lord, let me see by faith the ecstasy of faith: confirm Thine alliance by faith: give Thyself to me by faith”. [33]
Simplicity. Holy simplicity sets us free, for we participate in the simplicity of God [34]: “God loves man so much that He wants him to participate in His own simplicity, and God will work to that end” [35]. Purification is linked to an increasing simplicity, revealing its true meaning, as we become daily more aware of God’s Love for us: as we ‘wait on God’ who is Love; for we are able to return that Love with increasing simplicity. “That in much experience of tribulation they have abundance of joy and their very deep poverty hath abounded unto the riches of their simplicity” (2Cor.8:2). Simplicity is the key to a living faith. Simplicity also requires prudence: to beware the snares of the devil, and to remember the downfall of Adam and Eve: “Be ye therefore wise as serpents simple as doves” (Matt. 10:16). It is all too easy to miss the danger signs: the façade of spirituality: for example; fooling ourselves about which ‘mansion’ we believe ourselves to be in, instead of leaving this to God; measuring our love, and our prayer life, against the yardstick of ‘how good’ it makes us feel; ‘waiting on God’ only when it is convenient to ourselves; in short, losing-out once again to an ego-self. Care is also necessary when increasing our knowledge of the faith; to do this in simplicity, with the guidance of Holy Mother Church and to beware ‘false teachers’. Not to seek enlightenment, however, would be to jeopardise the very gift of faith. As St Augustine said, “If faith is not charged with thought it is nothing”, and “To believe is nothing else than to think with assent” [36].
Guardini justified this last point succinctly, “To believe means to be so rooted in Christ that He becomes the foundation of one’s own existence” [37] and we can only be so ‘rooted’ if we court simplicity: to see things as they really are, “with simplicity of eye and heart” [38]. Usually ‘simplicity’ is rendered ‘simplicity of heart’ in Holy Scripture, for example: “Think of the Lord in goodness, and seek Him in simplicity of heart” (Wis.1:1); but not always: “The testimony of the Lord is faithful, giving wisdom to the simple” (Ps.18:8). In this example from the Psalms, ‘simple’ is given as a translation of ‘parvulus’ (vulgate); but in other versions of the Bible, it can appear as ‘little ones’, which is the only translation given in some dictionaries. In (Matt.11:25) we read, “Thou hast hid these things from the wise and prudent and hast revealed them to the simple”: again ‘simple’ appears as ‘little ones’ in some versions. The reason for highlighting this point, is the accepted connection between simplicity and a little one, or a child, “unless you become like little children again” (Matt. 18:3).
Mother Germaine wrote of Sr Elizabeth that she “uttered the most sublime speeches with the frankness of a child” and “from infancy she was simple, yet instinctively profound” [39]. She loved to give advice in a letter, then follow up with “it is so simple” ; for example: “When we are in our deepest centre (i.e., of our soul), we are in God. Isn’t that simple.” [40]. Her prayers were simple, yet profound: “I will return love for love to You, and blood for blood. You died for me. Well, then: each day, I will die to myself; each day, I will endure new sufferings; each day ….” [41] is just one example from her diary in 1899. Undoubtedly, Elizabeth was aware of, and had been influenced by, Sr Thérèse’s love of simplicity, both from her reading of ‘Histoire d’une Ame’ before entry into Carmel, and the study of the book under Mother Germaine’s tutelage while in the novitiate [42]. She had acquired holy simplicity young, her one idea being to live only in God and for God. That is simplicity; for it permits of no division into parts. Although she referred to things being ‘simple’, many times in her letters, there appear to be only 5 direct references to ‘simplicity’[43]: in a compassionate letter [44] to a young friend who had lost a relative, she first of all remarked that to die in the faith is “such a simple act”, then she quoted from St John’s Gospel (13:1) a “lovely definition of death”, with the remark “Don’t you find that touching in its simplicity?”. In ‘Heaven in Faith’ the second prayer on the sixth day is devoted to ‘Simplicity’ and is both beautiful and comprehensive [45].
On the remark made above about the use of ‘little one’ or ‘child’ to emphasize ‘simplicity’ of approach, Sr Elizabeth includes ‘little-ones’ in one poem, “To little-ones I reveal and show myself: the hidden God your love wishes to ‘take hold of’” [46]; and 2 letters, “let us imitate the dear little-ones and live in the arms of God with the same simplicity”, written to her sister [47]; and “God answers the desires of little-ones”, written to her Mother, in which Sr Elizabeth is the ‘little-one’ [48]. The influence of Sr Thérèse is again evident in 2 early letters from Carmel in which Sr Elizabeth refers to herself as, ‘poor little one’ [49]; and in the phrase “child in the arms” which appears in some 18 letters [50]. ‘Little one(s)’ is used over 30 times in a general and familiar sense: for example, Mother Germaine refers to Sr Elizabeth as our ‘dear little-one’ in 2 letters [51]; and no further remarks are made on these.
One’s behaviour in God’s family is an inversion of that in the human family in one important respect. As a human being grows up, learns more, becomes more experienced, so we take charge of our own affairs and, perhaps, those of other people. In God’s family as one grows up, and learns more, the human being becomes more child-like: more dependent on God, Our Father: for we are his children. St Thérèse of the Child Jesus made this a central feature of her spiritual doctrine [52]. “Unless you be converted, and become as little children, you shall not enter the Kingdom of Heaven” (Matt.18:3).
At the time Sr Elizabeth entered Carmel, she associated ‘gazing on the Crucified’ with ‘entering into the Soul of her Christ’ [57]. Although the great mission had left her in no doubt about the passionate love of the Soul of Christ for souls, it was another year before this was mentioned in a letter [58]. The imagery of this Divine Love: as the Divine Sun radiating Love to all; appeared a month later in a follow-up letter to the same person, “When I see the Sun invade our cloisters, I think that is how God invades the soul” [59]. As her mystical knowledge increased, imagery was essential in its development and for conveying her message in letters. Her train of thought was consistent with mystic tradition that gazing on “the face of the Crucified leads to the radiant splendour of the Word of God” [60]. The Word was present in her soul, she was present in Him, and her gaze was fixed on Him: not on His radiant splendour, but on Him ‘face-to-face in a darkness’ devoid any imagery; and she knew this: “May our simple gaze upon Him, separate us from everything and fix us in the unfathomable depths of the mystery of the Three” [61], “our dwelling place and our home” [62]. In turn, this led her to God, through the Son in the Father and the Holy Spirit; and not vice-versa. [63] St Teresa instructed her nuns in similar vein, “I am not asking you now to think of Him … . I am asking you only to look at Him. For who can prevent you from turning the eyes of your soul [64] upon this Lord. … Your Spouse never takes His eyes off you, daughters.” [65]. Sr Elizabeth suggested that ‘looking at Him’ with a simple loving gaze should not only separate us from everything, it should “set a cloud between us and things here on earth” [66], which reminds one of a ‘cloud of forgetting’ [67].
‘Gazing on the Crucified’ is one of several devotional aids, which assist us to “lift our hearts and minds to God” , to possess God, in prayer [68]. Two other very popular aids are the ‘Stations of the Cross’ and the ‘Rosary’. In their absence, maybe we have recourse to the many images formed in our minds over the years: for example, the white robed, bearded, figure of Our Father; or an impeccably dressed Virgin Mary, in blue and white. When we say the ‘Our Father’ or the ‘Hail Mary’, these images help keep distractions at bay as well as concentrating our minds. St John of the Cross refers to such images as a ‘remote’ means of union with God [69]. Those images of God, Our Father, and Mary, Our Blessed Mother, are unreal; but what does it matter if they assist us in our prayers and in holding a ‘loving conversation’? In His own time, and in His own way, God will answer that question if it is His Will. Then the images will have to go, no more bearded figures and well dressed ladies! As God begins stripping the mind of those favourites which pandered to the way in which we want to pray; the pain comes back; and we learn, and go-on learning, to participate in a dialogue of Love/love. Then we may understand why Sr Elizabeth used ‘fixer’ in place of ‘regarder’ in some of her letters; but we are unable to explain it. When we ‘gaze on the Crucified’ now, it is somehow different, perhaps we are ‘fixed’ on God: ‘gazing on God’. It is a change of viewpoint brought about by prayer; available to all according to His Divine Will. St John of the Cross would say that God has been, and is, gently leading us to a ‘proximate’ means of knowing Him in faith and simplicity [69,bis].
If a change is to be made in our prayer life, then the Holy Spirit will issue the invitation and oversee the change: at a time, and in a manner, of His choosing. In this proposition, Sr Elizabeth has assumed that such an invitation has been extended. If an invitation has not been extended, it does not mean that the person is not, nor cannot be, a Praise of Glory. It is not necessary for a Praise of Glory to satisfy every one of the 4 propositions, or even to satisfy even one of them completely; for that would mean man has determined how God is to be praised. What, then, is the criterion for an affirmative answer to the Holy Spirit? Obviously, personal factors, enter into the decision, but if like the Psalmist we can say, “Like the deer that longs for running streams, so my soul longs for You, my God” (Ps.41:2) then, other things considered, we should answer ‘Yes’ to the Holy Spirit. Our wonderful adventure of prayer has a new impetus. This does not mean that vocal prayer is no longer a part of our private devotions, or that those who practice the Prayer of loving regard are more advanced in the sight of God. The Prayer of loving regard can last a lifetime. If we are docile to the Holy Spirit, then our prayer will be simplified, but not everyone will achieve the goal of union in this life. Our progress is dependent on our docility, and we may find ourselves advancing quite quickly, or becalmed for several years on a plateau. It is usual to separate the prayer into 2 parts related to the degree of simplification achieved. Beginners would be in the 3rd mansion of the Interior Castle, while Proficients: those at the stage of the present proposition; would be in the 4th mansion at least [76].
In the early stages: images would have a key role, as would Gospel scenes; and the soul gazes on Truth: the revealed truth in the Gospel scene, under the influence of Love. The fruit of our prayer would be an on-going increase in our love and affections. Equally important would be the on-going simplification to the point where, perhaps, during Gospel scenes relating the Miracles (say) and the wonderful simplicity of Jesus’ words and actions, the scene seems to be an unnecessary encumbrance to our prayer. It is quite likely then, that the holy Spirit is guiding us, as Proficients, to begin gazing on ‘Divine Truth’ in preference to ‘revealed Truth’ [77]. Once more, the point is made that souls in the 4th mansion may, from time-to-time, make use of ‘revealed Truth’ as indeed they have done in the past, as well as vocal prayer and meditation.
Souls in the 4th mansion have a deep love of God, with an unbridled enthusiasm for the wonders of His Creation: we have only to think (say) of the grandeur of the Niagara or Victoria Falls; or of the south polar ice cap. In his commentary on SC14, St John highlights the wonders of nature [78]. Some of these are beautifully outlined by Bede Frost [79]. The soul goes to God stripped of everything, save permeating Love, living faith, and a firm intention that by the grace of God it will gaze on ‘Divine Truth’: the life, the light, and the essence of its Maker. If the Holy Spirit has led the soul this far, if our love is deep enough to simplify our gaze and to ‘fix’ it on the object of our love [80], then He will certainly ensure that our intention is realised. In so doing, our soul is “made radiant by the rays of the Divine Sun” [81] and will be filled to overflowing: in silent adoration; according to its capacity to ‘see in the darkness by the light of faith’. “Thus the soul must rest in darkness, like the blind man, leaning on obscure faith, taking it as light and guide, without seeking support in anything else that she understands, tastes, feels, or imagines" [82]. Our faith “needs to be elevated and perfected by the Gifts of the Holy Spirit, to impel the soul to Divine things in a Divine way” [83]. God loves us too much, not to reward the soul for its love: by further hollowing out those deep caverns [74,bis] to extend its limited capacity. This allows new depths of knowledge to be infused into the soul: an increased and ever-deepening perception of the Being of God Himself, as revealed in His attributes [84]. Put in another way, the Gifts of the Holy Spirit operate more efficiently “in a supernatural and superhuman manner”, because in the higher stages of union the Gifts begin to dominate the soul “so that its acts are the Acts of the Holy Spirit" "with the full cooperation of the soul” [85]. Our will becomes increasing more in tune with the Divine Will; and the soul experiences an hitherto unknown fulfilment, joy, peace, and bliss [86].
The development is frequently linked to the Beatitudes, associating certain Beatitudes with the 3 ways of the spiritual life [87]. In the present context, “Happy are the pure in heart…; Happy are the peacemakers…; and Happy are they who are persecuted…”; would be linked to the Prayer of loving regard. This approach has not been followed, because it could mask the fact that the propositions were intended for a soul living in the world. Sr Elizabeth had addressed this point in the letter to her sister: “you can pray to God while working, it’s enough to look at Him. Then all becomes sweet and easy since you are not working alone, since Jesus is there.” [70,bis]. We retire into the desert of our soul (Osee 2:14), keeping “our eyes ever toward the Lord” (Ps. 24:15) with “a simple loving attention, fixed solely upon its object” [88]. The Beatitudes are the Christian’s Rule of Life, this is what God Wills for us. As the soul lives the spirit of the Beatitudes more closely, as regards our neighbour and ourselves; we are conformed to, and transformed in, Jesus more and more through prayer and good works, and so our will experiences that joy and peace of being in tune with the Divine Will.
It is a reflector of all that He is. Here we have an example of Sr Elizabeth at her most profound [89]: with a clause deceptive in its simplicity! Notice that the soul reflects ‘all that He is’, but not ‘all that He has’: the composite phrase being included by Sr Elizabeth at the end of Proposition 3, prefaced by “His need to communicate”. This, surely, makes it applicable to all mankind not just to those souls in advanced states of union. So that it can be assumed that ‘reflection’ is the return of the rays of Love to God, both directly, and indirectly through other souls. Notice also, by comparison with the 2 clauses which follow, it would appear that Sr Elizabeth had a mystical interpretation of the present clause in mind, as is suggested by the use of the word ‘reflector’: although this is not the only interpretation to be considered. Referring to [§24] of ‘Heaven in Faith’ reflecting ‘all that (God) is’ should sanctify an intending Praise of Glory, “You shall be holy, for I am Holy” (1 P 1:16). An ever present difficulty is knowing, ‘all that God is’. We have experienced this difficulty in the Prayer of loving regard : the ‘deeper’ we enter into faith, the more the sense of the ineffable takes possession of the soul. As was noted in ‘Update 6’, mystical imagery is an attempt to create a feeling for the ineffable: it does not explain the ineffable. The overall difficulty, together with a way forward is summarised in 3 quotations from St Thomas Aquinas: “Though God is wholly Simple we must still address Him with a multitude of names. Our mind is not able to grasp His Essence”; “Love takes up where knowledge leaves off”; and “By loving God a man glows to gaze on His Beauty” [90].
On Mount Tabor, “His Face shone as the sun” (Matt. 17:2) and in the OT, God was compared with the sun (Mal.4:2). Sr Elizabeth referred to “union with God, who was her brilliant Sun” [91], and when she was desperately ill, she thanked God for brightening her suffering “by His ray of Love” [92]. God as the Divine Sun is wonderfully apt imagery: the great distance from us, its life giving rays of light and heat (from which we need protection), and our dependence upon it. In the present phrase: ‘He’ (God, Divine Truth) is the “Divine Light (who) makes His light shine” [93] on a soul which “lives only by peace, love, union made radiant by the rays of the Divine Sun” [94]: “rays of Love” [92,bis], from “her brilliant Sun” [91,bis]. In union, the soul is turned fully towards the Sun and experiences the power of its brilliant light: the Praise of Glory is like another sun, but always less so than it would be in Heaven. “Look unto Him, and become radiant” (Ps.33:6, Eyragues trans.). St John of the Cross suggests that the appearance of the soul is like “the window is with the sun’s ray, or the light of the stars with that of the sun”. [95]
Our understanding of this mysticism is taken further by Arintero, commenting on a passage in the Song of Songs, where the Bride is compared with the beauty of the moon (Cant.6:10). “The moon does not have its own light, but receives it from the sun; so this soul tries always to receive the Divine rays from Jesus, so as to become under His continual influence, another new sun; in this way she seems pure and select like Him. For she shines so much with the clarity which she receives, and reflects His Divine light so much when enlightening other souls, that she seems to mirror Him and look like another sun”. [96] Cardinal Mercier said that, “Our Christian perfection and our influence on others are bound up with our powers of reflection” [97]. These examples serve to show the sense in which ‘reflect’ is used: the receptor literally glows as a result of the radiation.
Sr Elizabeth had included the theme of reflecting all that God is, in her ‘Prayer to the Trinity’. In addressing ‘my Christ’ she asks Him to “possess me wholly; substitute Thyself for me that my life may be but a radiance of Thine Own” and “so hold me that I cannot wander from Thy Light; then addressing the ‘Spirit of Love’ she begs that grace may: ‘reproduce in me, as it were, an incarnation of the Word, that I may be to Him another humanity’; and finally she confirms the outcome to Our Father that He will, ‘behold in her none other than Thy Beloved Son’ [98]. Sr Elizabeth used the imagery of the radiant Sun discussed above, but she also brought in the imagery of the Divine Eagle [99] which she had ‘inherited’ from Sr Thérèse: “Oh my adored Eagle …… I want to be fascinated by Your Divine glance. I want to be the prey of Your Love” [100]. Sr Elizabeth had written: “To love, to love all the time, to live by Love, that is to be His prey” [101];”the prey of Love” [102]. An Eagle mesmerizes its prey, it ‘holds it so that it cannot wander from its sight’: i.e., from the rays of the Divine Sun. Her reference to an Eagle is hardly unexpected, since the Divine Eagle had swooped on her as a prey, on the evening of Palm Sunday 1906 [103] and, at least, once more before she wrote ‘Heaven in Faith’ [104].
Although ‘mirror’ was not specifically mentioned in her proposition, a reflector is usually assumed to be a surface that acts as a mirror at some, or all, angles of incident radiation [105]. For example: “In supernatural contemplation the soul, like a mirror exposed to the rays of the sun, is all aglow with the light of the divine Sun that shines upon souls [106], “A truly clean heart is like a spiritual mirror in which the image of God is re-produced” [107]. “If the dispositions of your heart were really true everything in the world would be a mirror reflecting eternity” [108]. St John of the Cross assumes that the soul must be turned fully towards God for union: “When the powers of the soul are imperfect, understanding cannot receive enlightenment from the Sun, nor (is it) able to embrace God with pure love as a dulled mirror cannot reflect clearly within itself any visage” [109].
There is an inescapable similarity between the mystical interpretation of Sr Elizabeth’s phrase and that appropriate to (2Cor.3:18). “We all, reflecting (as in a mirror) the glory of the Lord with open face, are transformed into the same image from glory to glory, as by the spirit of the Lord.” [110]. Sr Elizabeth was familiar with this text having referred to it previously in 2 poems [111], and subsequently in her last retreat and in 2 letters [112]. The quotation from St Paul embraces all Christians who are united to God, gazing by faith on Divine Truth. The Holy Spirit rewards our gaze; it comes alive and we reflect Christ as in a mirror, acquiring something of His radiance and splendour, as we are transformed into His Image [113]. Oh the depth of His Love.
Jesus said, “If any one love Me, he will keep My word. And My Father will love him: and We will come to him and will make our abode with him” (Jn 14:23): we love Him with His own Love, through the grace of the Holy Spirit. Now Jesus also gave us the allegory of the Holy Vine, in which we are the branches. As such, He will fill our being with Himself that we may express all that He is; we become more like Him and reflect Him (all but His essence). “All My things are thine, and thine are Mine: and I am glorified in them” (Jn 17:10). We reflect Him by doing His Will under the guidance of the Holy Spirit: loving Him and loving our neighbour: through the Beatitudes. We should glow with His Love: “Ask Him to be in me to such an extent that people will sense Him when they come near me, and think of Him” [114]. We radiate, in our limited capacity, the attributes we ‘see’ in His Simplicity: “He that seeth Me, seeth the Father also” (Jn.14:9). Mother Amabel du Coeur de Jésus illustrated this, in her analysis of Sr Elizabeth’s ‘Prayer to the Trinity’, when she wrote: “ .. penetrate me so that I may become a feeble radiance of Thy own life: radiating goodness, tenderness, humility, charity; radiating light, strength, justice, truth; and radiating peace, joy, trust, and love. Oh my Saviour, to radiate Thee – this is indeed the aim of my life as a Carmelite: by my feeble praise; by joy of spirit; and in the little circle in which I am called to live for love of Thee” [115]. A prayer that we could surely make our own.
When we say of God, ‘I know that you are there in the blackness of the void’, we mean ‘present’ rather than ‘there’. “Knowledge of God consists in knowing that He is, but not what He is” [120]. When God reveals Himself to us, in the light of faith, we have a feeling of ‘presence’ “which does not constitute presence but is the result of it” [119,bis]; and the blackness seems even blacker. We speak of the ‘blackness’ of the void, rather than ‘nothingness’. Nothing is a limit of something, but a limit that may not be zero: i.e., what we call nothing may be something, no matter how small. Even ‘emptiness’ would be inexact because of the presence of “naked thought and a blind feeling of one’s own being” [121]; but it would also be inexact for another more ‘simple’ reason. A void there may be, in physical terms, but not supernaturally; because as the soul adopted nakedness so God clothed it with Himself. God is spirit – pure being – without MLT [122] - He is not a God of mathematics: i.e., the mathematical concept of infinity; nor of physics: God is not in the blackness, nor is He the blackness. In real terms, we ‘reflect’ Him: we have no past or future, only a now in Him; as so beautifully expressed in the poem ‘The Garments of God’ [123].
The images of blackness, void, nothingness, do not explain the mystery of God, but they highlight the fact that ‘imagery’ can only be imagery and nothing more; in which case, a more ‘homely-based’ imagery may be easier to comprehend. For example, Sr Elizabeth was well grounded in the mysticism of our Holy Mother and Father; but she tended to give more emphasis to walking ‘on the road to Emmaus’ with a living, personal, approachable God: by relating to the mystery of Love [124]. Her treatise, ‘Heaven in Faith’ had a sound Scriptural framework; but the interstices chiefly comprised some quite long adaptations from Ruysbroec, together with material from the Spiritual Canticle and the Living Flame of Love. [125]
Although the meaning of the present clause is fairly clear, some comment is useful to set the scene.