Salesian Literature

Chapter 8  :  The stillness of the recollected soul

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When the soul is inwardly recollected like that, in God or in his presence, it occasionally becomes so secretly attentive to its beloved’s goodness, as to give the appearance of scarcely being attentive at all – so artless its attention, so unobtrusive.  Calm, smoothly flowing rivers give a similar impression to those who watch them or sail upon them: there is never a sign of sensation or movement … so even their surface, undisturbed by the merest ripple. It is this delightful stillness of soul that the saintly Virgin Teresa of Jesus[1] calls “the prayer of quiet”. This is much the same (if I understand her correctly) as the state in which she describes the faculties of the soul as “sleeping.”

 

Even in a human love affair, a man is often content merely to be near, or in sight of his sweetheart.  He does not talk to her, he does not even really think about her, or her qualities; he is gratified, it seems, quite content to enjoy here beloved presence, not by reflecting on it, but simply by resting his mind in the peace and quite it affords.

 

So completely peaceful does this stillness sometimes become, the soul with all its powers seems to have been lulled to sleep.  There is no movement, no activity whatever, except in the will; yet even the will does no more than accept the gratification, the contentment, which the beloved’s presence affords. Stranger still, the will is unaware of the gratification and contentment it takes, enjoying it unconsciously; it has no thought for itself, you see, but only for him whose presence affords its delight.

 

In this mood of blissful peace the soul enjoys an exquisite sensation of God’s presence, although it is quite unconscious of its enjoyment.  However, it gives clear proof of how much its happiness means to it, if anyone tries to snatch it away, or something disturbs it.  Why then, there is distress, even tears!  A person in this state is like a child wakened before it has had its sleep out; the anguish it betrays on being woken up clearly shows the contentment it knew while lying asleep.  Once a soul rests peacefully in God, it will never exchange this stillness for all the most satisfying things of earth.

 

Such, to all intents and purposes, was the tranquillity Mary Magdalene knew, when she took her place at the Lord’s feet, and listened to his words (Lk. 10:39).  Picture her there, if you will: never a word, as she sits in profoundest peace, never a tear, nor a sob, nor a sigh, never the slightest stirring, not even a prayer.  Busy Martha bustles in and out of the room; Mary does not give her a thought.  She does nothing but sit and listen.  Martha, Martha, how many cares and troubles thou hast!  But only one things is necessary; and Mary has chosen for herself the best part of all, that which shall never be taken away from her (Lk. 10:40-42).  And Mary’s part, Mary’s lot, what was that?  To remain in peace, in stillness, in tranquillity, at the feet of her gentle Jesus.

 

There is nothing a child wants more, waking or sleeping, than its father’s lap, its mother’s breast.  So, if ever you experience this simple, pure, childlike trust in our Lord’s presence, dear Theotimus, stay there.  So not try to make any conscious acts, whether of intellect or will.  That simple trustful love, that loving spiritual slumber in the Saviour’s arms, contains to a superlative degree all the things you care for, all the things you go in search of here, there and everywhere.

 

Better to sleep in the Sacred Heart than to be wakeful anywhere else!

 

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[1]  Cf. Life, chapters 14-16; Interior Castle, mansion 4.3.

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