Salesian Literature

Conference 7  :  Three Spiritual Laws

In which the manners of Doves are applied to the Religious Soul, in the form of laws.[2]

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You have asked me for some new laws for the beginning of this new year, and thinking over what should give you which would be[3] both useful and agreeable, I turned my attention to the Gospel of today [Mt. 3:13], which makes mention of the Baptism of Our Lord and of the glorious appearing of the Holy Ghost in the form of a dove, on which appearing I paused and dwelt. Remembering that the Holy Ghost is the love of the Father and of the Son, I thought that I ought to give you laws which should be wholly laws of love, and these I have taken from the doves, remembering that the Holy Ghost deigned to take the form of a dove, and, moreover, that all souls which are dedicated to the service of the divine Majesty are bound to be like pure and loving doves. Thus we see that the Bride, in the Canticle of Canticles [Cant. 2:10, 14; 5:2; 6:8], is oftentimes called by this name, and certainly with good reason, for there is great resemblance between the qualities of the dove and those of the loving Spouse of Our Lord.

 

The laws of doves are all extremely delightful, and form a most pleasing subject for meditation. What more admirable law can there be than that of purity, for there is nothing more spotlessly clean than a dove! However dirty the dovecots and places where they make their nests may be, you never see a dove with sullied plumage; it is always unruffled and beautiful when the sun shines upon it.  Consider, too, how pleasing is the law of their simplicity, since Our Lord Himself praises it, saying to His Apostles: Be ye therefore simple as doves and wise as serpents [Mt. 10:16].  And, in the third place, how delightful is the law of their gentleness, for they are without gall or bitterness!  And hundreds of other laws have they which are extremely lovable, and which are useful to be observed by souls who are dedicated in Religion to the more especial service of the divine Goodness.

 

I have, however, been considering that if I were to give you laws which you already have, you would not think much of them.  I have therefore selected three only, which, if well observed, are of the greatest possible utility, and which cause a wonderful sweetness in souls who ponder over them, since they are full of love, and most delicately adjusted for the perfection of the spiritual life.  They are three secrets which are so much the more excellent towards gaining perfection, as they are less well known to the majority of those who profess to aspire to it.

 

And what, then, are these laws?  The first which I intend to give you is that doves do all for their mate and nothing for themselves: they seem to say nothing but this: “My dearest mate is wholly mine, and I am wholly his.  He is always turned towards me to think of me, and I on my part expect this and rely upon it.  Let him, then, go questing where he pleases, this beloved mate, and I will never doubt his love, but trust absolutely in his care for me.”  You may perhaps have seen, but without paying much attention, that the dove, while hatching her eggs, never leaves them until the young birds have burst the shells, and even then continues to sit on them and cherish them as long as they need it. All that time she never goes out in search of food, but leaves all the care of that to her dear mate. He, on his part, is so faithful that he not only goes in quest of grain for her, but he even brings her water in his beak to quench her thirst; he takes the most extraordinary care of her, so that she may want nothing which she ought to have; and, indeed, so great is this care that no dove has ever been found dead for want of nourishment during that time. She then does everything for her mate, and cherishes her young in order to give him the pleasure of offspring, while he carefully nourishes his beloved partner who relies so entirely upon him; she thinks only of pleasing him, ho only of feeding her.

 

Oh, what a delightful and profitable law this is, to do nothing except for God, and to leave to Him the whole care of ourselves! I do not say only as regards temporal things, for when you and I are by ourselves that goes without saying, but I refer to spiritual things, and the advancement of our souls in perfection. You see that the dove thinks only of her beloved mate, and of pleasing him by never stirring from her eggs, and yet nothing is wanting to her, because he, as a reward for her confidence, takes all possible care of her. Ah! How happy should we be if we did all for our sweet Dove, who is the Holy Ghost! He would then take absolute care of us, and according to the measure of our peaceful reliance on His providence would be His watchfulness over all our necessities.  And we must not fear that God may fail us, for His love is infinite for the soul which rests on Him.  How happy is the dove to have such confidence in her dear mate!  It makes her life full of peace and of a marvelous tranquility.  But a thousand times happier is the soul who, leaving all care of herself and of all that she needs to her dear and beloved Dove-partner, thinks only of hatching and cherishing her little ones, that she may please Him and give Him offspring.  Doing thus, she enjoys even here below peace and tranquility beyond compare, for her repose is only second to that which she will enjoy in heaven for all eternity in the tender embraces of her celestial Bridegroom.

 

But what are these eggs  from which we are to bring our little doves?  They are our desires which, being well dwelt upon and cherished, will produce little doves – that is, the effects of our desires.  Among all our desires, however, there is one which is pre-eminent, and which deserves especial cherishing and care in order to please the divine Dove, the Holy Ghost, Who always wishes to be called the sacred Spouse of our souls, so great is His goodness and love towards us.  This special desire is the one which we brought with us into Religion – namely, that of embracing the religious virtues.  This is one of the branches of the love of God, and one of the topmost branches of that divine tree.  It is, however, a desire which must be limited as to its realization by those means marked out for us in our Rules and Constitutions, by which we may attain that perfection to which we aspired and to which we obliged ourselves. But we must be prepared to brood over and cherish this desire all our life long, until it becomes a fair and perfect dove like to its Father, Who is absolute perfection [Mt. 5]. Meantime let us give our whole attention to the work of incubation — that is, of using all the means prescribed for our perfection — leaving all care of ourselves to our one and well-beloved Dove-mate, Who will not allow us to want anything which is necessary to make us pleasing to Him.

 

It is certainly a great pity to see souls — and there are only too many such — who, while aiming at perfection, imagine that it consists in a great multitude of desires, and are always eagerly seeking for means to attain to it, now here, now there. They are never contented or tranquil, for as soon as they have formed one desire they try to conceive another. They are like hens, which have no sooner laid one egg than they begin to busy themselves about laying another, not attempting to sit on the first, so that no chicken is hatched by them. The dove never does like this, for she broods over and fosters her young until they are able to fly and to seek for food for themselves. If the hen has hatched out a brood she is quite excited, and clucks loudly and incessantly; but the dove remains still and tranquil; she neither clucks nor shows any excitement. So, too, there are souls who never cease clucking and bustling over their little ones — that is, over their desires of perfection; they can never find people enough to talk to about them, and to ask for suitable and novel measures towards its attainment.  In short, they waste so much time in talking about the perfection which they aim at, that they forget to practise the principal means, which is to remain calm, casting all their confidence upon Him who alone can give the increase to what is sown and planted [1 Cor. 3:6, 7].  All our well-being depends on the grace of God, in which we ought to place all our confidence; and yet it would seem, by the eagerness which these souls display to do a great deal, that they trust in their own labours, and in the multiplicity of the exercises which they undertake, and of which they never appear able to undertake enough.  That would be all very good if it were accompanied by calmness and a loving care to do well whatever they do, and to depend at the same time entirely on the grace of God, and not on their own performances; I mean, to expect no fruit of their labours without the grace of God.

 

It seems as if these souls, so eager in their quest of their own perfection, have forgotten, or do not know, the words of Jeremiah [5:24; 9:23; 12:13]: Ah, foolish man, why dost thou trust in thy own labour and skill?  Dost thou not know that it is for thee indeed to cultivate the soil, to plough and sow it, but that it is God Who gives the increase, Who grants the bounteous harvest, Who sends the fertilizing rain on the land which you have sown?  Thou indeed mayest water, but it will be of no avail unless God blesses the toil, and gives thee, by His pure grace and not by thine exertions, an abundant crop; depend then entirely on His divine goodness.  It is indeed for us to labour diligently, but it is for God to crown our labours with success. Holy Church sings on every feast of confessors: God made him honourable in his labours, and accomplished his labours [Sap. 10:10] to show that of ourselves we can do nothing without the grace of God, in which we must place all our confidence, expecting nothing from ourselves.

 

Let us not be at all eager in our work, for, in order to do it well, we must apply ourselves to it carefully indeed, but calmly and peacefully, without trusting in our labour, but in God and His grace. Those anxious searchings of heart about advancing in perfection, and those endeavours to see if we are advancing, are not at all pleasing to God, and only serve to satisfy our self-love, that subtle tormentor which grasps at so much but does almost nothing. One single good work done with a tranquil spirit is worth far more than several done with eagerness.

 

The dove simply occupies herself in doing her work as well as she possibly can, leaving all other care to her beloved mate, The soul who is truly dove-like — that is, who loves God dearly — applies herself quite simply, without any eagerness, to use the means prescribed to her for advancing in perfection, without seeking for any others, however perfect they may be. " My Beloved," she says, "thinks for me, and in Him I trust; He loves me, and I give myself wholly to Him in proof of my love." A short time ago, some pious nuns asked me: " My lord, what shall we do this year?  Last year we fasted three days a week, and also took the discipline thrice; what shall we do all through this year?  We must do something more, both to thank God for the blessings of the past year and to help ourselves to increase more and more in His love.”  “You are quite right,” I replied, “in saying that we must always be advancing.  Our advancement, however, is not brought about, as you think, by the multitude of our pious exercises, but by the perfection with which we do them, always trusting more and more in our heavenly Dove, and distrusting ourselves more and more.  Last year you fasted three days in the week, and took the discipline three times; if you wish always to double your exercises, this year you will fill up the whole week; but then, what will you do the following year?  You will have to make a week of nine days, or you must fast twice a day.”

 

How foolish are those who waste time and thought in desiring to be martyred in the Indies, but do not apply themselves to the duties of their state of life!  And how mistaken are those who wish to eat more than they can digest!  We have not sufficient spiritual warmth to be able to digest thoroughly all that we take in for our perfection, and yet we will not cut off our fretting desires to be always doing more and more.  To read many spiritual books, especially if they are new; to speak eloquently of God and of all the most spiritual subjects, in order, we say, to excite ourselves to devotion; to hear many sermons, to assist at conferences on every occasion, to go very often to Communion, to confession still oftener; to tend the sick; to speak fluently of all that passes within us, so as to make it evident to others that we are aiming at perfection, and wish to attain it as soon as possible; are not all these things calculated to make us perfect, and to bring us quickly to the goal of our desires?  Yes, provided that we do them in the manner prescribed, and always in dependence on the grace of God; that is, provided that we do not put our trust in all this, good though it may be, but in God alone, Who alone can increase the growth of the fruits [2 Cor. 9:10; 1 Tim. 6:15] of all our exercises.

 

But my dear daughters, I entreat you to consider a little the lives of the great and holy Religious.  Look at St. Anthony, honoured by God and by men on account of his great sanctity.  Tell me, how did he reach such heights of holiness and perfection?  Was it by much reading, or by conferences and frequent Communions, or by the multitudes of sermons which he heard?  Not at all; he became so great a Saint by making use of the example of the holy hermits, taking the abstinence of one, the prayer of another, like a diligent bee, going hither and thither, pilfering and storing up the virtues of the servants of God, to make the honey of sanctity by the reading of good books?  He had none at all.  Or by the Communions which he made, or the confessions? He made but two in all his life.  Or by conferences or sermons?  He never heard any; and the only human being whom he saw in the desert was St. Anthony, who came to visit him at the close of his life.  Do you know what made him holy?  It was the fidelity with which he devoted himself to all that he had undertaken to do, when he first began to follow the vocation to which he had been called[4], without wasting his time about anything else.

 

Look, again, at those holy monks who lived under the charge of St. Pachomius; had they books, sermons? None.  Conferences?  They had them at times, but very rarely.  Did they go often to confession?  Sometimes at the great feasts.  Did they hear many Masses?  On Sundays and Holydays, but none at any other times.  But how was it, then, that partaking so sparingly of that spiritual food which nourishes our souls for immortality, they were still always in such good condition – that is to say, so strong and courageous in undertaking the pursuit of virtue, and in arriving at perfection and at the goal of their desires?  And we, who are fed so abundantly, are yet so spare – that is, so languid and indolent – in pursuing our enterprise, and, if spiritual consolations fail us, seem to have neither courage nor vigour in the service of Our Lord!  Well, we must imitate those holy monks, applying ourselves to our work – that is to say, to what God requires of us according to our vocation – fervently and humbly, thinking of nothing else, and feeling sure that there is no better way to be found of perfecting ourselves.

 

“But,” you may reply, “you say fervently: Alas!  How can I, who have no fervour in me, do this?”  You may, it is true, have no fervour as you understand the word – that is, fervour of feeling, which God gives to whomsoever He pleases, and which it is not in our power to obtain just when we wish to feel it.  I added, also, humbly, so that there might be no means of excuse; for you cannot say: “I have no humility; it is not in my power to possess it,” seeing that the Holy Spirit, Who is goodness itself, gives it to all who ask Him for it [Lk. 11:13].  Not that humility which is the sentiment of our unimportance, and which makes us humble ourselves so graciously in all things, but the humility which makes us know our own abjection, and makes us love it when we have so recognised it in ourselves; for that is true humility.

 

Never was there a time when people studied as they do now.  Those great Saints, Augustine, Gregory, Hilary (whose feast we are keeping today), and many others, did not study much; they could not have done so, writing as many books as they did, preaching, and discharging all the other duties of their office.  They had, however, such great confidence in God and in His grace, and so great a mistrust of themselves, that they neither placed their dependence nor their trust in their own skill or labour, so that all the great works which they did were done purely by means of their reliance on His grace and almighty power.  “It is Thou, O Lord,” they said, “Who givest us to work, and it is for Thee that we work; it is Thou who wilt bless our labours, and give us a rich harvest.”  Therefore, their books and their sermons bore marvellous fruit; while as for us, who trust in our fine words, in our eloquent language, and our knowledge, all our labours end in smoke, and yield no fruit but vanity.  To sum up, then, all that I would say to you regarding the first law; I bid you trust wholly in God and do all things for Him, abandoning the entire care of yourselves to your beloved Dove-mate, Who will have an incomparable forethought for you; and the truer and the more perfect is your confidence, the more special will be His providence!

 

I wish to give you for your second law these words, expressed by the doves in their own language: The more they take away from me, the more I produce.  What does this mean?  Well, when the little doves are somewhat grown, the owner of the dovecot comes to take them away from the mother, who then instantly sets to work to hatch others.  If, however, they are not taken away, the mother spends a good deal of time over her first brood, and therefore produces less.  For this reason the doves say: “The more they take away from me, the more I produce;” and to make you understand better what I mean, I will give you an example.  Job, that great servant of God, who was praised by the mouth of God Himself [Job 1:8; 2:3], never allowed himself to be conquered by any affliction which befell him, but the more of his little doves God took away from him, the more he produced.  When he was in his original state of prosperity, what good works did he not do?  He says himself [Job 29:15-16]: I was a foot to the lame – that is to say, I had them carried, or put them on my ass or my camel; I was an eye to the blind – that is, by leading or guiding them; I was, in fact, the reliever of the starving, and the refuge of all the afflicted.  Now see him reduced to the extremest poverty.  He does not complain in the least that God has deprived him of the means of doing so many good works, but he says with the dove: “The more they take away form me, the more I produce;” not in almsgiving, for he has not the means for that; but in the single act of submission and of patience which he made when he saw himself deprived of all his wealth, and even of his children, he did more than he had done by all his great charities in the time of his prosperity, and rendered himself more pleasing to God, by this single act of patience, than by all the many good works which he had done throughout his life; for a stronger and more generous love was needed for that act alone than for all the others put together.

 

In order, then, to obey this sweet law of the doves, we must, like them, allow ourselves to be deprived by our Sovereign Master of our little doves – that is to say, of the means of fulfilling our desires – whenever it pleases Him to take them away, however good they may be, without lamenting or ever complaining of Him as if He were doing us a wrong.  We ought rather to apply ourselves to redouble, not indeed our desires or our exercises, but the perfection with which we make them, trying by this means to gain more by one single act, as undoubtedly we shall, than we should by a hundred others made according to our won fancy and inclination.  Our Lord does not wish us to carry His Cross except by one end; He desires to be honoured as are great ladies, who will have the train of their dress carried for them; but He would have us carry the cross which He lays upon our shoulders, and which is our very own.  Alas! We do nothing of the kind; for when His Goodness deprives us of the consolation which He has been accustomed to give us in our exercises, it seems to us that all is lost, and that He has taken from us the means of carrying out what we had undertaken to do.

 

Look, I pray you, at this soul; see how well she hatches her eggs in the time of consolation, and leaves all care of herself to her dearest partner.  If she is praying or meditating, what holy desires she entertains in order to please him!  She is full of emotion in His presence; she is wholly absorbed in her Beloved; she leaves herself absolutely in the arms of His divine Providence.  And the eggs are so excellent, and all goes so well, and the little doves which are the effects of her love never fail, for what does she not do?  Her works of charity are so numerous!  Her modesty shines forth before all the sisters; she edifies each one of them by her conduct; she is the admiration of all who see and know her.  “Mortifications,” she says, ”cost me nothing then; they were actually consolations to me; obedience was a joy.  I no sooner heard the first sound of the bell than I was up; I did not neglect a single opportunity of practising virtue, and I did all this with the greatest peace and calmness.  Now all is changed; full of disgust with myself, and almost always dry and cold in my prayer, I have no courage, it seems to me, for my amendment; I have none of that fervour which I used to feel in my exercises; in a word, frost and cold have seized upon my soul." Alas! I can well believe it.    Look at the poor soul as she laments and bewails her misfortunes; see what discontent is expressed in her face, and in her downcast and melancholy demeanour; she walks sorrowful and is utterly confounded.  "Whatever is the matter with you?" we are constrained to say, "What is the matter with me? Oh, I am so miserable!   Nothing pleases me; everything disgusts me, and now I feel so confounded!" "But what kind of confusion do you feel? — for there are two kinds: one which leads to humility and to life, the other to despair, and consequently to death" [cf. 2 Cor. 7:1-11].  "I assure you," she replies, "I feel so confounded that I almost lose courage to persevere in my struggle after perfection."    Alas! What weakness! Because consolation fails, courage fails also!  Ah! This must not be; for the more God deprives us of consolation, the more we ought to labour, to show our fidelity to Him.  One single act done with dryness of spirit is worth more than many done with great fervour and sensible devotion; because, as I have already said in speaking of Job, it is done with a love which is stronger, although it is not so tender and pleasant to ourselves.  The more, then, they take away from me, the more I produce: this is the second law which I greatly desire to see you observe.

 

The third law of the doves to which I would call your attention is, that they lament in the same way that they rejoice; they only sing one air, which is the same for their most joyous songs as for those in which they bewail themselves and express their sadness.  Look at them perched on the branches, where they are lamenting over the loss of their young, of which the weasel or the night-owl has robbed them (for when any other than the owner of the dovecot takes them away they are much afflicted.)  see them again when their mate approaches, how entirely they are comforted, and yet they do not change their note; it is the same soft, plaintive, inward sound which they use whether to show their joy or their grief.  It is this holy equableness of spirit, my dear souls, which I wish you to possess.  I do not say equableness of temper or of inclination, but of spirit; for neither do I take account, nor do I desire that you should take account, of that which goes on in the inferior part of our soul.  It is this which causes us disturbance and inequality of humour, when the superior part does not do its duty by making itself the mistress, and is not alert and watchful so as to discover its enemies, as the Spiritual Combat says we must be.  For without this careful watch the soul will not be promptly warned of the provocations and assaults of the inferior part, springing from our senses, our inclinations, and our passions, which are always striving to conquer and subject the superior part.  But, I say, we must always remain firm, resolute in the superior part of our mind, following the virtue of which we make profession, and must keep steadfast, in adversity as in prosperity, in desolation as in consolation, or again in dryness as in fervour.

 

Job, of whom we have already spoken in the second law, furnishes us again with an example on this subject; for he sang always to the same air the canticles which he composed, which are, in fact, simply the story of his life. What did he say when God multiplied his goods, gave him children, and, in fact, fulfilled all his desires, sending him everything that he could possibly wish for in this life?  What did he say but: Blessed lie the name of the Lord?  This was his canticle of love which he sang on all occasions; for what says he when brought down into the lowest depths of affliction?   His canticle of lamentation is set to the same air as that to which he sang his song of rejoicing: We have received good things from the hand of the Lord, and shall we not receive evil things? [Job 2:10].  The Lord gave children and goods, the Lord has taken them from me; may His holy name be blessed! [Job 1:21].  It is ever: Blessed be the name of the Lord! Truly, this holy soul was a chaste and loving dove, fondly cherished by its tender mate. Thus let us, my dear daughters, on all occasions take good and evil, consolations and afflictions, from the hand of God, always singing the same most-sweet canticle: Blessed le the name of the Lord, to the same unvarying air; for if we are so happy as to succeed in doing this, whatever may befall us, we shall live in great peace.  But let us not imitate those who weep when consolation is withdrawn from them, and when it is restored do nothing but sing, like the monkeys and apes, who are always gloomy and fierce in dull and rainy weather, but when it is line do nothing but skip and jump.  These, then, are the three laws which I give to you, which laws, however, being wholly of love, are only binding by love.  The love, then, which we bear to Our Lord will constrain us to observe and keep them; so that we may say, imitating the fair dove, who is the sacred Spouse: “My beloved is mine and I am His.  I do nothing except to please Him; His Heart is always turned towards me in watchful care, as mine is always turned towards Him in confidence.”  He will have care to provide us with His eternal glory as the reward of our confidence; and there we shall see how happy are those who cast away all the anxious and superfluous cares which we generally have about ourselves and our perfection, devoting themselves simply to their work, abandoning themselves without any reserve into the hands of the divine Goodness, for which alone they have laboured.  Their labours will at last be followed by a peace and repose surpassing all description, for they will rest for ever in the bosom of their Beloved.  The happiness of those who have observed the second law will also be great; for, having allowed themselves to be deprived by the Master, Who is Our Lord, of all their little doves, without the least vexation or displeasure; having, on the contrary, had the courage to say: “The more they take away from me, the more I produce;” and having ever remained submissive to the will of Him Who so despoiled them, they will in heaven sing the glorious canticle: Blessed be God [Apoc. 5:9-13; 7:12] with as much more fervour amid the eternal consolations, as they sang it more heartily amid the desolations, languors, and disgusts of this mortal and transitory life, during which we must try to preserve carefully and continually evenness of spirit which is so greatly desirable.

 

 

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[1] With the traditional custom of drawing lots for the portions of the Twelfth cake, that of reserving one portion for their Founder had been introduced among the first sisters of the Visitation.  It happened that in 1620 this portion contained the bean, and the Community wrote instantly to the Saint to protest their fidelity and to ask him for laws.  He replied to this request on January 13 by giving his daughters the Conference which follows.  (See a letter to St. Jane Frances de Chantal, dated January 8, 1620).

[2] V. +J. Sermon on the Laws which the Bishop gave us in the octave of Epiphany.

[3] Holy Scripture relates that Jephte's daughter asked of her father two whole months to bewail her virginity among the mountains before being put to death; and afterwards, imitating her, the daughters of Israel, every year at the same time, wept and lamented.  If any one had asked these maidens why they lamented, they would have replied: We weep every year because the daughter of Jephte once wept at this period of the year. So, too, if any one should ask why we rejoice every year at the Feast of Kings, and why, even in regions out of France, we choose a king as a form of rejoicing, we might answer: We rejoice every year because our glorious Lady and Mistress once rejoiced at this very time of year, when she saw the kings come from afar to adore her Son, Who was thus acknowledged as supreme King, and Monarch of all the world. 

As, happily, the lot has fallen to me to be your king, I think I ought to give you some laws before the octave ends, after which I shall be no longer king.  I here bring them to you; you will observe them all through this year, until God sends you a new king or queen, who will also give you new ones.  [Addition}.

[4] devoted himself – To Him Who had once made known to him why He had called him.  (Variant).

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