Salesian Literature

LETTERS OF SFS

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Madame de Chantal

Desire to attain fullness of Christian life

The bond of friendship

Do all through love, nothing through constraint

Let us always belong to God, unreservedly and without interruption

Humility and charity are the master ropes; all others are attached to them

Staying in God’s presence

Throw yourself into God’s arms

 

The bond of friendship

June 24, 1604[1]

 

Madam,

 

The other letter I wrote will help you reassure the good father to whom you wanted to be able to show it.  I put in it many things in order to forestall any suspicion he might have that I had written with some purpose in mind; yet, I wrote it in truth and sincerity, as I must always do, but now with the freedom with which I am writing this one where I want to speak to you heart to heart.

 

I quite agree – along with those who tried to give you scruples about it – that it is advisable to have one spiritual father whose authority in all things and at all times should be preferred to one’s own will, and even to the advice of other persons; but in no way should this preclude other relationships and communication, nor our following the advice and counsel given by others.

 

One evening, shortly before I received your letters, I picked up a book about Mother Teresa[2], as a way of relaxing my mind after the day’s work, and I discovered that she had made a vow of special obedience to Father Gratian, of her Order, to do during the rest of her life whatever he might require of her that would not be contrary to God and to the obedience she owed her ordinary superiors of the Church or of her Order.  Besides that, she always had some special great confidant with whom she discussed things and whose advice and counsel she followed faithfully and practised in whatever would not go against the obedience she had vowed.  This worked out well, to tell you that union with one’s spiritual father does not preclude communicating with someone else, provided that the promised obedience keeps the first and preferential place.

 

Think no more about this, I beg you, and do not worry about where to rank me, for all this is only a temptation and a useless subtlety.  What difference does it make if you know whether or not you can consider me your spiritual father, as long as you know how my soul is disposed toward yours, and I know how yours is toward mine?  I know you have complete confidence in my affection; I have no doubt about this and delight in the thought.  I want you to know and to believe that I have an intense and very special desire to serve you with all my strength.  It would be impossible for me to explain either the quality or the greatness of this desire that I have to be at your spiritual service, but I can tell you that I believe it is from God, and for that reason, I cherish it and every day see it growing and increasing remarkably.  If it were appropriate, I would say more, and say it in all truth, but I had better stop here.  Dear Madam, you can see clearly enough to what extent you may call on me and trust me.  Make the most of my affection and of all that God has given me for the service of your soul.  I am all yours; give no more thought to the role or to the rank I hold in being yours.  God has given me to you; so consider me as yours in Him, and call me whatever you like; it makes no difference.

 

Further, in order to cut short all the rebuttals which may be taking shape in your mind, I must tell you that I have never understood that there was any bond between us carrying with it any obligation but that of charity and true Christian friendship, what St. Paul calls “the bond of perfection” (Col. 3:14); and truly that is just what it is, for it is indissoluble and never weakens.  All other bonds are temporal, even that of a vow of obedience which can be broken through death or other circumstances; but the bond of love grows and gets ever stronger with time. It cannot be cut down by death, which, like a scythe, mows down everything but charity.  “Love is strong as death and firm as hell” (cf. Cant. 8:6), says Solomon.  So there, dear sister (allow me to call you by this name, which is the one used by the apostles and the first Christians to express the intimate love they had for one another), this is our bond, these are our chains which, the more they are tightened and press against us, the more they bring us joy and freedom.  Their strength is gentleness; their violence, mildness; nothing is more pliable than that; nothing, stronger.  Think of me as very closely bound to you, and don’t try to understand more about it than that this bond is not opposed to any other bond either of a vow or of marriage.  Be totally at peace on that score.  Obey your first director freely, and call on me in charity and sincerity.

 

I want to answer another point in your letter.  You were afraid of having fallen into some kind of duplicity by communicating your thoughts to me and seeking my advice.  I am happy to see that you have such a dislike of shrewdness and duplicity, for there is hardly any vice which is more contrary to the good health and activity of the mind.  Nevertheless, it was not duplicity, for if there was some fault which caused you to have scruples about opening your heart to me and seeking instruction from me, you have sufficiently atoned for it since then, and have no further obligation to speak to anyone about it.  Nevertheless, I praise your frankness and am happy that you have told me about this, as well as all the rest; but you must hold fast to the resolution I gave you: what is told in the secrecy of the sacrament of Penance is so sacred that it should never be spoken of outside.  And if anyone should ask you if you have said what you have in fact said under the holy seal of confession, you can say “no” forthrightly and without fear of duplicity; don’t let that pose any difficulty.  Anyway, God be praised: I would rather have you be ingenuous than lacking in candour.  So, once again, stand firm and consider as unsaid and totally secret whatever is covered with the sacramental veil.  Meanwhile, have no scruple, for you have committed no offence in speaking of it, though it would have been better not to have done so, out of a reverence for the sacrament which should be so great that nothing spoken there is mentioned outside.  I remember clearly the first time you spoke to me about this.

 

You say that I may have the pleasure of seeing you around September.  I shall be delighted to see you, and also Mme. Brûlart and Mlle de Villars.[3]   Knowing that you are coming, I shall try to give you as much time as I can, and shall pray God in a special way so that whatever help I give all of you may be as great as my affection for you.  I have taken up my pen a dozen times to write these two pages and it seems as if the enemy has been sending me distractions and concerns in order to prevent my writing you.  Interpret favourably the length of this letter, for I have tried to escape from the arguments and scruples that arise easily enough in women’s minds.  Be on your guard against this, I beg you, and have courage.

 

When exterior or interior troubles overtake you, take your two resolutions into your arms, and like a mother who rescues her child from danger, put them in Our Lord’s wounds, asking Him to protect both you and them; then wait there in that sacred shelter until the storm has passed (cf. Cant. 2:14; 1 Kings 19:9-13).  You will meet with opposition and bitterness; the contractions and pangs of spiritual childbirth are not less than those on the physical order.  You have experienced both.  I have often been encouraged in the midst of my little difficulties by these words of our gentle Saviour: “When a woman gives birth she is in great distress, but after the birth she forgets the suffering of the past because a child is born to her” (cf. Jn 16:21)[4]  I think these words will comfort you too if you ponder them and repeat them often.  Our souls should give birth, not outside themselves, but within, to the dearest, most charming and handsome male child that one could wish for.  It is Jesus whom we must form and bring to birth in ourselves (cf. Gal. 4:19); you are pregnant with Him, my dear sister, and praised be God who is His Father.  I speak this way because I know your ardent desires; but have courage, for one must suffer much to bring Him to birth.  Besides, the Child is well worth whatever we endure in order to bring Him to birth and to be His mother.

 

I am talking too much; I shall stop here, begging this heavenly Child to make you worthy of His graces and favours and to grant that we may die for Him, or, at least, in Him.  Madam, pray to Him for me who am so imperfect and burdened with myself and others; this burden would be intolerable if He who has already carried me and all my sins on the cross (cf. 1 Pet. 2:24) were not carrying me to heaven.  Be that as it may, I never say holy Mass without you and all those closest to you; I never receive communion without you, and finally, I am as much yours as you could ever wish me to be.  Guard against anxiety, depression, and scruples.  You would never in the world want to offend God; that is reason enough to live joyously.

 

My dear mother considers herself and all her children to be at your service; she thanks you very humbly for your kindness.  My brother (Canon Jean-François de Sales) is most grateful for your remembrance of him and returns you kind through by remembering you continually at the altar.  He is away as I write this.  I would like to know the names and ages of your children, for I hold them as my own in the Lord.

 

About the women you mentioned – I wouldn’t dare urge them to make the trip for that would not be fitting; but, nevertheless, I do hope it takes place and I delight in looking forward to it.

 

Madam, I am your very humble and devoted servant in Our Lord.

 

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[1] Oeuvres, XII, 282-288: Letter CCXXIII.  The first line refers to another letter Francis had sent ten days earlier.  (Ibid., pp. 277-281: Letter CCXXI).

[2] Most likely a Latin life of St. Teresa by Ribera or Ribadeneira (1527-1611), a Spanish Jesuit.

[3] Jeanne Humbert, wife of Phillipe de Villers (or Villars), was another friend Francis had met during the Lent of 1604 in Dijon.  Cf. Oeuvres, XIII, 23, note 1.

[4] Francis adapts this text to his own purpose.

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