Charity

Today is the feast of Saint Thomas Aquinas. At Matins the Carthusians listened to these words of wisdom from this liturgical day's highly acclaimed citizen of heaven.

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The principle of every good is in this: the law of love is the source of spiritual life. It is a natural and manifest fact that the loving heart is inhabited by what it loves. Whoever loves God possesses Him within. “Who dwells in charity dwells in God and God in him” (1 Saint John 4:16). The nature of love transforms whoever loves into the beloved being. If we love God we will be completely divine. “Whoever is united with the Lord becomes one spirit with Him” (1 Corinthians 6:17).

Without charity, the soul no longer acts: “Whoever does not love abides in death” (1 Saint John 3:14). If a person possesses all the gifts of the Holy Spirit, but lacks charity, that person has no life. For it matters not whether one has the grace of tongues, or the gift of faith, or any other gift such as prophecy; these do not bring life without charity. Even if a dead body should be adorned with gold and precious jewels, it nevertheless remains dead. Charity leads to the observance of the divine commandments. Charity is present if one is occupied with great things; but if one is not so occupied, charity is not present. We see a lover do great and difficult things because of the One loved, and that is why the Lord says, “If anyone loves Me he will keep My word” (Saint John 14:23). Whoever keeps this command and the law of divine love fulfills the whole law. Charity provides protection against adversity. Misfortune cannot harm one who has charity; rather it becomes useful to that person. Misfortune and difficulties seem pleasant to the lover. Charity truly leads to happiness, since eternal blessedness is promised only to those who have charity. For all other things are insufficient without charity. You must note that it is only the different degrees of charity, and not those of any other virtues, which constitute the different degrees of blessedness. Many of the saints were more abstemious than the apostles, but the apostles excel all the other saints in blessedness because of their higher degree of charity.

Holy Father Bruno

From the Museo della Certosa is the Italian publication titled, "I Colori del Silenzio". And in that publication is a loving tribute to Holy Father Bruno. It is shared here on this day where around the world the Carthusian Order celebrates the Solemnity of Saint Bruno.

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There are lives, my God, which may be approached only with respect, holy grounds where Your mystery shines. No one can contemplate them without being enlightened by You, no one can find them without being inflamed by Your Spirit.

 

On 6 October 1101, Sunday, at the Hermitage of Santa Maria della Torre in Calabria, Italy there were some monks, and in the midst of them a man laid down. Tears were in their eyes and choking cries in their voices. The guide of their souls, their father . . . had reached the time of his birth into eternity. This man is you, Bruno. In this instant, your whole life, more than seventy years, is in your heart, the final offering to the Father.

Behold your first years in Cologne, where you were born, your departure for Rheims in France, that great and celebrated school of theology, your scholarly enlightened intuitions, and your appointment as canon of that church. The face of Archbishop Gervais, his decision of promoting you, at the early age of twenty-eight, to master of the most celebrated school of this time; students from all over Europe flocked together to listen to you, as your fame continually increased; then came the archbishop’s death in July 1067.

 

Behold the newly elected Manasse, his greed, his rages, the first discords, the increasing disorder, the scandals, while the Church reforms herself thanks to the Holy Father, Gregory VII; your sufferings, and the firm decision to voice your displeasure of the papal Legate. In the final months of 1076 came the retaliations of Manasse, depriving you of all your charges and goods – leading to the way of exile, a long and painful fight which lasted four years. At last the decision of the Pope: to depose, to dismiss the bishop from his See, while all eyes looked upon you to be the successor. But . . . in the silence of your heart, suddenly, another Heart! Your exile was the first stage of a long interior pilgrimage.

Behold the call of Christ: to leave everything so as to follow Him, to resume the way of the first fathers of the desert; the astonishment of all, the admiration for you, the light of Rheims, who was already fifty-five years old; then Sèche-Fontaine, the first attempt at solitary life with two other monks, but soon they defected and you searched for a second hermitage.

Behold your new companions: Landuin, two men named Stephen, and Hugh; these four were clerics, and with them were Andrew and Guérin, the first lay brothers. Their faces are still now in your heart, your brothers so beloved. And all seven were united as the flames of the archangels before the Almighty. You asked Hugh, the holy Bishop of Grenoble, for a place to live, hidden in God. Hugh of Grenoble was a friend of your heart. He helped you immediately without reservation; he had a dream about seven stars that guided him into the desert of Chartreuse to glorify God.

 

On June 1084, nearing the feast of Saint John the Baptist, you arrived at the place foreseen in the dream, to begin a great adventure still unknown. Behold your monastery, lost in the mountains, the first years, the ascetic struggle, the peace of the Spirit. Such fire in your souls, such love in your hearts! You, Bruno, already possessed pure praise and cries of amazement: "O Bonitas! O Bonitas!" (O the Goodness! O the Goodness!).

Six years of toils, six years of joy; God, God, God always, only God, together with your brothers! Then, unexpectedly, the trial . . . In the first months of 1090 a courier of the Pope arrived with this message: Urban II, a former student of yours, calls you to his service at his side. The sun sets, it is night. Leaving everything, abandoning all, again, undoubtedly forever, your solitude in God, that blessed solitude, your companions of life, your friends. But in your heart, the "yes", which is your love for God and for the Church. But the tempest overwhelms your brothers, the bewilderment takes them, and they disperse. To be without you, the master, the star of the journey: How could they? This way is so difficult. Everything collapses. Everything! Your heart is on the cross. It is the hour of your passion. Has the beautiful adventure reached its end? "My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass me by! Yet, not my will, but Yours be done." The sky opens, a new day is born. Your brothers again gather in the desert guided by Landuin. Your soul is suffering less, Bruno, at the hour of departure.

 

Behold Rome, the holy city, the heart of Christianity! But Rome is threatened. Shortly after your arrival, the Emperor Enrico IV and his protected, the antipope Clement III, launched their troops towards it. Urban II and his court fled to the south, near the land of the Norman allies. And still another trial: the Holy Father offers you the archbishopric of Reggio Calabria. What were you to do, Bruno? This is such a difficult time for the Church, as a brilliant future opens up for you – a counsellor for the Pope, a trustworthy man, admired by all. But in your soul still resounds the call, continuous, powerful, captivating, even stronger in the splendour of this court: Only God! Only God! To be His, completely His, only His, together with other brothers! Only God! Your heart, a cry of love for Him! Father, will You forget Your son? It is You Who has sown the cry in him . . . Bruno, the Lord responds, Urban II blesses your vocation: yes, you may resume your solitary life. "O Bonitas! O Bonitas! My life and my all, my beloved forever." (Autumn of 1090).

Your heart would like to return to Chartreuse, to find your brothers. But the Pope asks you to stay in these lands and you accept his words as those of Christ. But where to dwell? A friend of the Holy Father, and soon to be your friend, Count Ruggero, offers you a vast desert territory. Behold your hermitage, Santa Maria della Torre, in the woods of the Serre, and the arrival of new companions, and later others, and yet more, up to thirty-three new sons. Nearby the hermitage stands the monastery of Saint Stephen where the lay brothers lead more a life in community; Landuin guides them, your faithful friend.

 

Eleven more years, eleven years of hard work and asceticism, eleven years of light and joy in praise, here, in this rich land of monks and hermits, whose history is blessed with their presence. And so, that your joy may be complete, Bruno, one day found the happiness of a visit: Landuin, who brings with him the love of your first sons, and their fidelity. "O Bonitas! O Bonitas!" -- so as to accept this friend of yours in this land that fills your heart, with an embrace and a gaze.

 

The autumn of life nears the end and your eyes rise towards eternity. Two years have passed since Urban II left this world; a year later, on his return journey, Landuin dies professing the faith in the prisons of the antipope; three months before that, in June, Ruggero died. Bruno, heaven calls you. Now . . .

 

The breath becomes briefer, perspiration bathes you, with your last brothers, you proclaim your faith, a hymn to the Trinity. The instant is near, time opens. Bruno, look at this grand light, so immense: "My Lord and my God."

 

"It is Me My friend, come! Enter into My Heart. Come! Come."

 

"O Bonitas! O Bonitas!"

 

Bruno, stay with us!

 

"I will remain in your hearts."

 

Everything stood still. Silence freezes us in its density. Fire has consumed the last twigs, the flame has vanished. Bruno . . . your face is so beautiful, illuminated by peace; and your eyes, open towards heaven, are overflowing with an infinite tenderness. A hand closes them in the ultimate sleep. Your life is hidden in Him, for all eternity. Fullness of joy! Ocean of love!

 

But your light still shines in our hearts and in your two letters, for your friend Raoul and your brothers of Chartreuse, who will bear witness forever to your mystery. You are so present in them, your profound humanity, finesse, your sweetness and goodness, your harmony throughout, your wisdom, all tenderness and humility, spiritual joy, simplicity - Bruno, all-burning with your love of God, and the God-Love in you.

 

Yes, you are alive forever. And, like a planted seed, from you will rise a tree where different birds will make their nests. Are you not seeing it in the Eyes of God?

 

A life-flame of prayer still consumes itself roundabout you, Bruno; it burns in this place from where now you fly towards heaven, so as to make descend from there a great light of melody and love. Together with the first, behold all your sons and daughters, throughout the centuries, until this day and even further, all of us who, invisibly are around you on this 6 October, in this instant of your great birth, Bruno.

 

Nativity of Mary

Today is the feast of the Nativity of Mary. At Matins the Carthusians listened to great words of wisdom from the Apostolic Exhortation titled: ‘Marialis Cultus’ by His Holiness Pope Paul VI. Here’s what the monks reflected on.

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We wish to examine more closely a particular aspect of the relationship between Mary and the liturgy, namely, Mary as a model of the spiritual attitude with which the Church celebrates and lives the divine mysteries. That the Blessed Virgin is an exemplar in this field derives from the fact that she is recognized as a most excellent exemplar of the Church in the order of faith, charity and perfect union with Christ; that is, of that interior disposition with which the Church, the beloved Spouse, closely associated with her Lord, invokes Christ and through Him worships the eternal Father. Mary is the attentive Virgin, who receives the Word of God with faith, that faith which in her case was the gateway and path to divine Motherhood, for, as Saint Augustine realised, Blessed Mary by believing conceived Him [Jesus] Whom believing she brought forth. In fact, when she received from the angel the answer to her doubt (cf. Saint Luke 1:34-37), full of faith, and conceiving Christ in her mind before conceiving Him in her womb, she said, ‘I am the handmaid of the Lord, let what you have said be done to me’ (Saint Luke 1:38). It was faith that was for her the cause of blessedness and certainty in the fulfilment of the promise: ‘Blessed is she who believed that the promise made to her by the Lord would be fulfilled’ (Saint Luke 1:45). Similarly, it was faith with which she, who played a part in the Incarnation and was a unique witness to it, thinking back on the events of the infancy of Christ, meditated upon these events in her heart (cf. Saint Luke 2:19,51). The Church also acts in this way, especially in the liturgy, when with faith she listens, accepts, proclaims and venerates the Word of God, distributes it to the faithful as the Bread of Life and in the light of that Word examines the signs of the times and interprets and lives the events of history.

Mary is also the Virgin in prayer. She appears as such in the visit to the mother of the precursor, when she pours out her soul in expressions glorifying God, and expressions of humility, faith and hope. This prayer is the Magnificat (cf. Saint Luke 1:46-55), Mary's prayer par excellence, the song of the messianic times in which there mingles the joy of the ancient and the new Israel. As Saint Irenaeus seems to suggest, it is in Mary's canticle that there was heard once more the rejoicing of Abraham who foresaw the Messiah (cf. Saint John 8:56) and there rang out in prophetic anticipation the voice of the Church: ‘In her exultation Mary prophetically declared in the name of the Church: My soul proclaims the glory of the Lord’. And in fact Mary's hymn has spread far and wide and has become the prayer of the whole Church in all ages. At Cana, Mary appears once more as the Virgin in prayer: when she tactfully told her Son of a temporal need she also obtained an effect of grace, namely, that Jesus, in working the first of His ‘signs’, confirmed His disciples’ faith in Him (cf. Saint John 2:1-12).

Likewise, the last description of Mary's life presents her as praying. The apostles joined in continuous prayer, together with several women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brothers’ (Acts 1:14). We have here the prayerful presence of Mary in the early Church and in the Church throughout all ages, for, having been assumed into heaven, she has not abandoned her mission of intercession and salvation. The title Virgin in prayer also fits the Church, which day by day presents to the Father the needs of her children, praises the Lord unceasingly and intercedes for the salvation of the world. Mary is also the Virgin Mother, she who believing and obeying brought forth on earth the Father's Son. This she did, not knowing man but overshadowed by the Holy Spirit. This was a miraculous Motherhood, set up by God as the type and exemplar of the fruitfulness of the Virgin Church, which becomes herself a Mother. For by her preaching and by baptism she brings forth to a new and immortal life, children who are conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of God.

The ancient Fathers rightly taught that the Church prolongs in the Sacrament of Baptism the Virginal Motherhood of Mary. Among such references we like to recall that of our illustrious predecessor, Saint Leo the Great, who in a Christmas homily says: ‘The origin which Christ took in the womb of the Virgin He has given to the baptismal font: He has given to water what He had given to His Mother, the power of the Most High and the overshadowing of the Holy Spirit (cf. Saint Luke 1:35), which was responsible for Mary's bringing forth the Saviour, has the same effect, so that water may regenerate the believer’. If we wished to go to liturgical sources, we could quote the beautiful Illatio of the Mozarabic liturgy: ‘The former [Mary] carried Life in her womb; the latter [the Church] bears Life in the waters of baptism. In Mary's members Christ was formed; in the waters of the Church Christ is put on’. Mary is, finally, the Virgin presenting offerings. In the episode of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple (cf. Saint Luke 2:22-35), the Church, guided by the Spirit, has detected, over and above the fulfilment of the laws regarding the offering of the firstborn (cf. Exodus 13:11-16) and the purification of the mother (cf. Leviticus 12:6-8), a mystery of salvation related to the history of salvation.

She has noted the continuity of the fundamental offering that the Incarnate Word made to the Father when He entered the world (cf. Hebrews 15:5-7). The Church has seen the universal nature of salvation proclaimed, for Simeon, greeting in the Child the light to enlighten the peoples and the glory of the people Israel (cf. Saint Luke 2:32), recognized in Him the Messiah, the Saviour of all. The Church has understood the prophetic reference to the Passion of Christ: the fact that Simeon's words, which linked in one prophecy the Son as ‘the sign of contradiction’ (Saint Luke 2:34) and the Mother, whose soul would be pierced by a sword (cf. Saint Luke 2:35), came true on Calvary. A mystery of salvation, therefore, that in its various aspects orients the episode of the Presentation in the Temple to the salvific event of the Cross. But the Church herself, in particular from the Middle Ages onwards, has detected in the heart of the Virgin taking her Son to Jerusalem to present Him to the Lord (cf. Saint Luke 2:22) a desire to make an offering, a desire that exceeds the ordinary meaning of the rite. A witness to this intuition is found in the loving prayer of Saint Bernard: ‘Offer your Son, holy Virgin, and present to the Lord the blessed fruit of your womb. Offer for the reconciliation of us all the holy Victim which is pleasing to God’.

This union of the Mother and the Son in the work of redemption reaches its climax on Calvary, where Christ ‘offered himself as the perfect Sacrifice to God’ (Hebrews 9:14) and where Mary stood by the Cross (cf. Saint John 19:25), suffering grievously with her only-begotten Son. There she united herself with a Maternal heart to His Sacrifice, and lovingly consented to the immolation of this Victim which she herself had brought forth and also was offering to the eternal Father. To perpetuate down the centuries the Sacrifice of the Cross, the divine Saviour instituted the Eucharistic Sacrifice, the memorial of His death and Resurrection, and entrusted it to His Spouse the Church, which, especially on Sundays, calls the faithful together to celebrate the Passover of the Lord until He comes again. This the Church does in union with the saints in heaven and in particular with the Blessed Virgin, whose burning charity and unshakable faith she imitates.

Mary is not only an example for the whole Church in the exercise of divine worship but is also, clearly, a teacher of the spiritual life for individual Christians. The faithful at a very early date began to look to Mary and to imitate her in making their lives an act of worship of God and making their worship a commitment of their lives. As early as the fourth century, Saint Ambrose, speaking to the people, expressed the hope that each of them would have the spirit of Mary in order to glory God. May the heart of Mary be in each Christian to proclaim the greatness of the Lord; may her spirit be in everyone to exult in God. But Mary is above all the example of that worship that consists in making one's life an offering to God. This is an ancient and ever new doctrine that each individual can hear again by heeding the Church's teaching, but also by heeding the very voice of the Virgin as she, anticipating in herself the wonderful petition of the Lord's Prayer, ‘Your will be done’ (Saint Matthew 6:10), replied to God's messenger: ‘I am the handmaid of the Lord. Let what you have said be done to me’ (Saint Luke 1:38). And Mary's ‘yes’ is for all Christians a lesson and example of obedience to the will of the Father, which is the, way and means of one's own sanctification.

It is also important to note how the Church expresses in various effective attitudes of devotion the many relationships that bind her to Mary: in profound veneration, when she reflects on the singular dignity of the Virgin who, through the action of the Holy Spirit has become Mother of the Incarnate Word; in burning love, when she considers the spiritual Motherhood of Mary towards all members of the Mystical Body; in trusting invocation; when she experiences the intercession of her advocate and helper; in loving service, when she sees in the humble handmaid of the Lord the Queen of Mercy and the Mother of grace; in zealots imitation, when she contemplates the holiness and virtues of her who is ‘full of grace’ (Saint Luke 1:28); in profound wonder, when she sees in her, as in a faultless model, that which she herself wholly desires and hopes to be; in attentive study, when she recognizes in the associate of the Redeemer, who already shares fully in the fruits of the Paschal Mystery, the prophetic fulfilment of her own future, until the day on which, when she has been purified of every spot and wrinkle (cf. Ephesians 5:27), she will become like a bride arrayed for the Bridegroom, Jesus Christ (cf. Revelation 21:2).

Cantate Domino Canticum Novum

“Sing to the Lord a new canticle; let His praise be in the Church of the Saints,” says Saint Augustine. He also preached these words: “Canticum res est hilaritatis, et, si diligentius consideremus, res est amoris” – “A song is a thing of cheerfulness, and, if carefully examined, it is a thing of love.”

Thus if we’re joyful and in love, we should be singing. Oh how the Church takes care of her children! The liturgy invites us in the Mass and the Divine Office to express our joy, express our love in song. In the liturgy our voices soar towards our Lord, like burning incense.

The Apostle Saint John writes: “Nos diligimus, quoniam ipse prior dilexit nos” – “We love, because He loved us first” (1 John 4:19).

Saint Augustine continues his homily by reiterating what Saint Paul wrote: “Quia caritas Dei diffusa est in cordibus nostris per Spiritum Sanctum, qui datus est nobis” – “Because the charity of God is poured forth in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, Who is given to us” (Romans 5:5). And so, it is God’s gift of love which has been given to us that enables us to love God in return.

And since His love has been poured into our hearts, it is not only our voices that we raise to God, but also as the liturgy commands us and hopefully we are compelled to do, “Sorsum corda” – “Lift up your hearts.” What greater expression of love is there than our Lord’s own Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity which He gives to us. If we are truly in love with Him, then receiving Him unworthily should never be considered.

Saint Augustine continues by saying that our Lord calls out: “Amate me, et habebitis me, quia nec potestis amare me, nisi habueritis me” – “Love Me, and you will have Me, because you would be unable to love Me, unless you possess Me.” We possess Him by living lives which embrace the call to holiness, remaining in a state of grace, receiving His Most Precious Body and Blood, and by daily conversation with Him.

Our Holy Father Pope Benedict XVI has been a great teacher on liturgy, and the importance of beauty in the liturgy. The tradition of the Church, as we are reminded by our Holy Father, is that angels of God chant rather than speak. This is heightened conversation as everything in worship should be heightened.

In his [Cardinal Ratzinger] book, “The Spirit of the Liturgy” he writes: “When man comes into contact with God, mere speech is not enough. Areas of his existence are awakened that spontaneously turn into song. The singing of the Church comes ultimately out of love. It is the utter depth of love that produces the singing. The Holy Spirit is love, and it is He Who produces the singing. He is the Spirit of Christ, the Spirit Who draws us into love for Christ and so leads to the Father. In liturgical music, based as it is on biblical faith, there is, therefore, a clear dominance of the Word; this music is a higher form of proclamation. Ultimately, it rises up out of the love that responds to God's love made flesh in Christ, the love that for us went unto death. After the Resurrection, the Cross is by no means a thing of the past, and so this love is always marked by pain at the hiddenness of God, by the cry that rises up from the depths of anguish, Kyrie eleison, by hope and by supplication. But it also has the privilege, by anticipation, of experiencing the reality of the Resurrection, and so it brings with it the joy of being loved, that gladness of heart that Haydn said came upon him when he set liturgical texts to music. In the West, in the form of Gregorian chant, the inherited tradition of psalm-singing was developed to a new sublimity and purity, which set a permanent standard for sacred music, music for the liturgy of the Church. Polyphony developed in the late Middle Ages, and then instruments came back into divine worship -- quite rightly, too, because, as we have seen, the Church not only continues the synagogue, but also takes up, in the light of Christ's Pasch, the reality represented by the Temple.”

In the liturgy, then, whether it’s the Mass or the Divine Office, bring your voice, bring your heart, and bring your whole self, body and soul, and lift it up to God in worship and angelic conversation.

The Chosen Myrrh

This Carthusian monk's reflection from Le Mois de Marie Cartusien on the chosen myrrh, who is our Blessed Mother, was clearly, according to the way it was written, never intended to scale the walls of Carthusian monasteries and reach the outside world. He offers some thoughts on living the Carthusian life, and on a couple of occasions refers to their Rule, thus giving readers outside of the Order some insight into their charism. We also get to meet in this writing a Carthusian nun, Mother Anne Griffon, who one would deduce from what is shared here, was a mystic and a visionary. You’ll see the Latin words, “Fluminis impetus lætificat civitatem Dei,” which is from the Latin Vulgate and more specifically, Psalm 45, verse 5, which translates as: “The stream of the river makes glad the city of God.” This is a splendid reflection on our Lady. The picture used for this post depicts the Presentation of Mary in the Temple. Happy Feast of Our Lady of Fatima!

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One of the principal aims of our Order is to form followers of our crucified Lord, who will carry the cross after Him, in order to fill up, as Saint Paul says, for themselves and for the Church, what is wanting of the sufferings of Christ (cf. Colossians 1:24). In our Constitutions all has been ordained to the end that the cross destined for the sons of Saint Bruno should be borne by them in a perfect manner, and with unflinching constancy. “The man who gives himself to prayer,” says Saint Teresa, “offers himself to our Lord to carry His cross.” She who entered most deeply in union with Him has become the Queen of martyrs. Thus the Church places on Mary’s lips the inspired words: I yielded a sweet odor like the choicest myrrh (cf. Ecclesiasticus 24:20). May our souls, too, and our whole lives be impregnated with this divine fragrance emanating from the Wounds of our crucified Savior.

The cross of the Carthusian serves a double purpose, according as it affects the soul or the body. It is in other words spiritual or material, and is called humility or austerity. Let us see how, following in Mary’s steps, we can offer to our Savior this double martyrdom imposed by our Rule.

Mary’s humility has only been surpassed by that of the Heart of Jesus. No saint can compare with our heavenly Mother in this fundamental virtue. Singularly favored, as she was, by heaven, Mary looked on herself as a mere nothing. “Take it for certain,” she said to Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, “that in the Temple I regarded myself as the lowest of all creatures, and as unworthy as you yourself to be the Mother of the Redeemer.” This humility was the heavenly spikenard which ravished the Most High, and drew the Word of God into the womb of Mary. At the very moment when she was humbling herself in her prayer, not daring to aspire even to the favor of serving the privileged creature who was to give birth to the Savior, the archangel Gabriel came to propose to her that she herself should be the Mother of the Redeemer.

One of our nuns, Mother Anne Griffon, the venerable Prioress of Gosnay in Artois, had wonderful lights on the abyss of humility which caused the graces of the Most High to flow so abundantly into the soul of the Immaculate Virgin. Through these revelations, we may learn to preserve deep in our hearts the knowledge of our own insufficiency in this respect.

On the feast of Saint Anne, as during the Mass the nuns were singing the Responsory, Fluminis impetus lætificat civitatem Dei, the venerable Mother saw Saint Anne under the figure of the city of God, thus depicted because she bore in her womb the Tabernacle of God (cf. Psalm 131:5). God dwelt in Mary by sanctifying grace from the moment of her conception. The stream of the river represented the torrent of graces drawn down upon the mother and the daughter by their mutual humility.

On the feast of the Nativity of Our Lady, the venerable Mother saw in contemplation the Blessed Trinity and all the heavenly court rejoicing in the birth of this unique creature, sanctified and full of grace from the first moment of her existence, and immediately endowed with the use of reason, so that she might be aware that she owed all these graces to her Creator.

On other occasions, our Lady appeared to the venerable Mother as when, after her Presentation in the Temple, she humbled herself more profoundly before the adorable Trinity than ever angels or saints have done or will do. And again, in the mystery of the Purification, seeking how to humble herself, as did her Son when He emptied Himself, taking the form of a servant, made in the likeness of men (Philippians 2:7). Again, co-operating in the Redemption at the foot of the Cross, as she suffered for us to an extent equaled by no other creature; at her death, so transformed in God that she seemed to be identified with Him, yet stripping herself of all this glory in order to attribute it all to its divine Author; crowned in heaven with such splendor that we would be tempted to adore her, were we not conscious of the Majesty of the Son. Again, so great that God alone comprehends her, yet ceaselessly offering to Him all she has received from Him, interceding with the divine Goodness that He might bestow on all the elect a share in her glory as the Mother of Jesus and thus the Mother of men – a Mother whom we must imitate by profoundly humbling ourselves, as she did, in the presence of the Divine Majesty, esteeming ourselves as nothing.

We must love, then, humility in all its forms, if we would be true religious, and be content with the hidden life which shelters us from the vanities of this world, and with the lowly position we occupy in the House of God. Let us find pleasure in the apparently humble and commonplace actions which fill our days. Mary herself avowed to a holy religious that she experienced great joy in seeing him every Saturday sweeping the convent cloister for love of her. We should also accept with a fervent heart the practices of respect and humility imposed on us by our Rule, whether it be towards the Fathers of the cloister or to our superiors (Statuta Ordinis Cartusiensis, II Pars, ch. XVIII, I); we should lose none of these opportunities to practice virtue. Above all, we should fulfill with exact fidelity the act of humility prescribed to us when we are admonished for some fault (ibid., ch. XVIII, 20).

We have already treated of austerity, the second form of our Carthusian cross, when meditating on the vow of poverty; we need not, therefore, repeat it here. Let it suffice to recall that according to the testimony of the Sacred Scriptures, wisdom is seldom found in those who live in luxury (cf. Job 28:13), and it hardly becomes the members of a thorn-crowned Head to garland themselves with roses.

It is for us, then, to practice renunciation or self-denial, and to use the sword of immolation whenever grace inspires us to do so. In the matter of the mind, our Lady would have us renounce our ideas, our opinions, our plans, our own judgment; in that of the heart, our desires, our affections, our tastes and our repugnances. As for the senses, we must renounce our ease, all forms of self-gratification and satisfaction; and in the matter of the will, all over-eagerness and our natural vivacity. Such, and no less, is the extent of the renunciation we are called upon to practice.

Our Lady's Doctor Ecstaticus

One of the most prolific writers of the Carthusian Order was Denys van Leeuwen, but perhaps better known simply as Denys the Carthusian or his Latinized name, Dionysius. Denys was Belgian and a model Carthusian to say the least. After being educated in theology, philosophy and Sacred Scripture from the University of Köln, he entered the Carthusian way of life in 1423. The many hours involved daily in praying the Divine Office, celebrating Mass, praying Our Lady’s Office, as well as other devotional practices - all staples of the Carthusian charism – Denys also nearly on a daily basis spent many hours reciting the Psalter in its entirety. In addition to this, he was no stranger to spiritual reading. A couple of years before his death the list of what he read began to surface. He read nearly every ecclesiastical writer leading up to his time in life. Another monk revealed that Denys also read nearly every summa and most commentaries on Scripture; he was also fond of reading the works of Greek and Arabic philosophers. His favorite writer was Dionysius the Areopagite. As incredible as all this seems, perhaps more mysterious and even miraculous is how he found the time to write so much himself. Like all Carthusians, he was very fond of our Lady. Here are some of his thoughts concerning our Blessed Mother:

From his work, De Prœconio, one should be convinced that as long as Mary is present in the life of a sinful soul, that soul need not despair:

"You are the consolation and the hope of the most guilty of men. He who has recourse to you can never complain of your severity and harshness. To your sons, even to the most ungrateful, you are kindness and tenderness itself; for all, you have the heart of a compassionate and indulgent Mother. Despite your high estate and the exalted privileges which you enjoy in heaven, if the most wretched, the most impure, the most despised of sinners appeals to you for help with a truly contrite and humbled heart, far from disdaining him you welcome him with a Mother’s love. You take him into your arms and, holding him close to your heart, you communicate to him a new warmth and then make his peace with the Judge he fears. How many are the afflicted, the sinners, the utterly abandoned, who rejoice that they have found in you, O Mary most merciful, salvation and life!"

In Volume VII of his Opera Omnia, Denys explains why we pray, "Blessed are you among women," for Mary is indeed "full of grace":

"Many women have gathered together great spiritual treasures, but you, O Virgin most admirable, have surpassed them all. For if, according to Saint Jerome, no one is good when compared to God, in like manner no virgin is perfect in comparison with you."

Also from his Opera Omnia in Volume XXXII, Denys tells the story of a Cistercian’s encounter with our Blessed Mother:

"A Cistercian religious had such a great devotion to our Blessed Lady that he would never sit down to table until he had recited on his knees five decades of the Rosary. Now one day, when his relatives had come to see him, and he was about to share their meal in the company of a few friends, he suddenly remembered that he had not fulfilled his customary tribute to his heavenly Mother. Immediately he arose and withdrew from the company. And as he prayed, whom did he see but our Lady herself, clothed with a magnificent cloak studded with Ave Marias, in letters of gold. He was filled with confusion when, with a sweet smile, the lovely apparition said to him: 'See all the Aves you have said to me.' Then, with a gesture she threw open her cloak and, showing him the inside, added: 'When your Aves have covered this side also, I shall come for you, and take you to my Son’s Kingdom.'"

What a marvellous assurance that as we pray the Rosary, our Lady is indeed listening! With all of Denys literary achievements, none of it took precedence over his commitment to prayer. Perhaps there’s a lesson there, in that, if we are committed to prayer, all those other things in our life that we deem as necessary, our Lord, if He also deems it necessary, will see to it that it is accomplished. Finally, it should be noted that Denys the Carthusian was quite privileged in receiving ecstasies, many of which involved levitation. Because of this, he has been given the title of Doctor Ecstaticus.

Auxilium Christianorum

Here's another gem from the heart, mind and soul of a Carthusian monk in the compilation titled: Le Mois de Marie Cartusien. In this reflection, there's a mentioning that several of the Church Fathers taught that the angels promised in advance reverence and obedience to the Virgin Mother of God. That thought might turn one's thoughts to the Annunciation and the appearance of the angel Gabriel to Mary. What did she see? What was Gabriel's posture that would indicate reverence and obedience? Something to ponder...

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“Almighty and merciful God Who, for the defense of Christendom, hast wonderfully established the Blessed Virgin Mary to be an ever ready help to Thy people. . .” These words, which occur in the Collect of the Mass of Our Lady, Help of Christians, should suffice to indicate to us the aid offered to all who seek it from the holy Mother of God.

We have already seen what help Mary, as dispenser of divine grace, brings to the support of our fallen nature, and how we, God’s creatures, can lean on her, as it were on His own Arm. But Mary’s love, as a Mother, finds other ways of assisting us. One of the most precious is the unwearying protection whereby she shields her children, unceasingly harassed as they are by the enemy of souls. She fulfills to perfection the delightful symbol which Jesus used in speaking to the Jews, to express His ever steadfast and watchful love for their unhappy race. As the hen gathers her chickens under her wings, when she sees the kestrel hovering near, so does our heavenly Mother gather her children under her cloak and hide them in her heart, at the approach of evil (cf. Matthew 23:37).

At the dawn of creation, Lucifer the archangel set himself up in opposition to the Mother of God. The trial that was to settle forever the lot of the angelic spirits consisted especially, according to several of the Fathers, in the proposal that God made to these beings – so noble and so beautiful by nature – that they should promise in advance adoration and submission to the Incarnate Word, and reverence and obedience to His Virgin Mother. The chief of the angels refused to render this homage, and hell was for him, and for those who followed his lead, the punishment of their revolt (cf. Luke 10:18).

When, in the fullness of time, God became man, the rebel angels rose in fury against the Person of our Savior, and by their hirelings crucified Him to Whom they had refused their adoration in the highest heaven. Filled with rage at the thought of the glories decreed to this Son of promise (cf. Acts 13:23) and their Master forever, they turned their fury against the other sons of the chosen Woman. They waged unceasing warfare against those children of Mary who bear within them the sign of the redeemed. No one is exempt from this warfare: between the sons of Satan and the children of Mary there is irreconcilable enmity (cf. Genesis 3:15). Who will be our support in this struggle? We are so weak when left to our own resources.

“Sinners as we are,” wrote Dom Louis Rouvier, “we are exposed to violent and repeated temptations. The more we have sinned, the more power Satan has over us; and, as the implacable enemy of our souls, he has no greater wish than to see us one day share in his torments. To that end, he exercises all his infernal malice in order to encompass our ruin. How can we escape from his wiles without powerful aid? Ever since Mary crushed the head of the accursed serpent beneath her feet, she has, it is certain, a command over him in virtue of which she is able to free her children from danger. This is why she has been given the consoling title of Auxilium Christianorum – Help of Christians. But can we expect her to use her power on our behalf if we do not call on her? How profitable, then, is it for us to invoke this great Queen frequently, in order to triumph over the temptations of the devil” (Dom Louis Rouvier, Novenas for the Festivals of the Blessed Virgin Mary).

And Mary protects us by renewing our courage. Little by little, she will weaken those evil inclinations left in our nature by sin, those instincts which are stepping-stones to further sin. Above all, she will curb the audacity of our enemies. They cannot endure her presence, and the mere indication of her name puts them to flight. “The powers of darkness,” says Saint Bonaventure, “melt away like wax in the warmth of the fire, when they meet anyone who keeps Mary in remembrance and is in the habit of calling on her, and is zealous in imitating her.”

But should we unhappily presume on our liberty to tear ourselves for a moment from her arms and stretch out our hands to Satan, our heavenly Mother would still come to our aid, by preventing this cruel tyrant from exercising over us the power into which our fault has betrayed us, and by forcing him to give us time to gain our pardon.

In a touching allegory, Holy Scripture describes this manifestation of Mary’s mercy. The sons of Respha had been delivered up to the Gabaonites, who crucified them. By their bodies, keeping untiring watch to defend their remains from the birds of the air by day and from the beasts of the field by night, was their mother. Nor did she leave them until the king, David, had them taken down from the cross, and had them buried with the bones of Saul and Jonathan his son (cf. 2 Kings [2 Samuel] 21:13). Such is the image of Mary, watching over fallen souls, in order to prevent hell from completing the work of their destruction, and ceaselessly drawing down upon them the cleansing waters of sorrow and repentance: donec stilleret eos aqua de cælo. . . until there fall upon them dew from heaven (cf. Psalm 71 [72]:6; Joel 3:18; Amos 9:13).

Adolescens, tibi dico, surge

In the Gospel is the story of Jesus raising from death to life a man in the city of Naim (cf. Luke 7, 11-16). We are told that the man was carried out of the city in a loculum (coffin or bier). Saint Ambrose reflects:

"This dead man was carried to the grave on a bier made from the four elements. But he had the hope of rising again, because he was borne on wood. For though it had before been a source of loss to us, yet, after Christ had touched it, it began to help us to Life; that it might be a sign that salvation was to overflow to the Church through the yoke of the Cross. For we lie lifeless upon a bier, when either the fire of unrestrained desires consumes us, or when coldness overflows in us, or the power of our soul is weakened by slothful habit of body."

The Church comes to the aid of the death of the soul, as symbolized by the death of this man from Naim, the weeping of his mother who is also a widow, and the great multitude. Saint Ambrose continues:

"If there is a grave sin which you cannot wipe away by the tears of your repentance, let the Church, your Mother, weep for you, while the multitude stands by. Soon you will rise from death and begin to speak the words of life, and fear will come upon them all; for by the example of one, all are converted. They also shall glorify God, Who has given us such remedies to escape death."

Jesus waits for us in the Sacrament of Reconciliation!

Being Taught An Adoring Silence

Saint Konrad of Parzham, a Capuchin Franciscan, was born at Parzham, Bavaria, Germany. He wrote down a plan for his life which came under eleven different headings. Two of those headings were:

~ I will observe silence exactly and perpetually as far as is possible. I will be very sparse in speech, and this in order to avoid many faults and that I may be able to converse with God so much the better.

~ I will always strive to have a truly intense devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary, and will truly strive to imitate her virtues.

One might hypothesize that the first resolution would be impossible without the second. Saint Konrad also offered to God very profound words while making a Spiritual Communion:

"I have come to spend a few moments with You, O Jesus, and in spirit I prostrate myself in the dust before Your Holy Tabernacle to adore You, my Lord and God, in deepest humility. Once more a day has come to its close, dear Jesus, another day which brings me nearer to the grave and my beloved heavenly home. Once more, O Jesus, my heart longs for You, the true Bread of Life, which contains all sweetness and relish. O my Jesus, mercifully grant me pardon for the faults and ingratitutde of this day, and come to me to refresh my poor heart which longs for You. As the heart pants for the waters, as the parched earth longs for the dew of heaven, even so does my poor heart long for You, Fount of Life. I love You, O Jesus, I hope in You, I love You, and out of love for You I regret sincerely all my sins. May Your peace and Your benediction be mine now and always and for all eternity. Amen."

Spiritual Communions, adoration of the Divine Indwelling, many saints made them every hour on the hour. In the Apostolic Letter,Orientale Lumen, Saint John Paul II wrote that "the more man grows in the knowledge of God, the more he perceives him as an inaccessible Mystery, Whose essence cannot be grasped." He continued by expressing that "one draws close to this Presence. . . by letting oneself be taught an adoring silence." And we can learn this adoring silence "through the prayerful assimilation of Scripture and the liturgy." And of this adoring silence the Holy Father wrote: "We must confess that we all have need of this silence, filled with the Presence of Him Who is adored. . . that we may never forget that seeing God means coming down the mountain with a face so radiant that we are obliged to cover it with a veil (cf. Exodus 34:33). All. . . need to learn a silence that allows the Other to speak when and how He wishes, and allows us to understand His words."

Saint Elizabeth of Trinity taught that a soul’s degree of glory in heaven would depend on the degree of Union with the Divine Indwelling, at the time of death. Is there anyone who ever walked on planet earth that had more intimacy with the Indwelling of the Most Holy Trinity than our Blessed Mother? There’s a story of a series of messages from our Blessed Lady to Sister Mildred Mary Ephrem Neuzil of the Sisters of the Precious Blood in Dayton, Ohio. In one of the messages, the Mother of God spoke saying: "I am Our Lady of the Divine Indwelling, handmaid of Him Who dwells within." These messages and apparitions have not reached full official canonical approval as yet and are awaiting the final stage which is a formal written statement from the bishop of the diocese of Toledo, Ohio.

Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, now Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, in agreement with Saint John Paul’s assessment that we can learn silence from the liturgy, and which may also explain His Holiness’ call to restore a sense of the sacred in liturgy, wrote in his book, The Spirit of the Liturgy: "We are realizing more and more clearly that silence is part of the liturgy. We respond, by singing and praying, to the God Who addresses us, but the greater mystery, surpassing all words, summons us to silence. It must, of course, be a silence with content, not just the absence of speech and action. We should expect the liturgy to give us a positive stillness that will restore us. Such stillness will not be just a pause, in which a thousand thoughts and desires assault us, but a time of recollection, giving us an inward peace, allowing us to draw breath and rediscover the one thing necessary, which we have forgotten. That is why silence cannot be simply made, organized as if it were one activity among many. It is no accident that on all sides people are seeking techniques of meditation, a spirituality for emptying the mind. One of man’s deepest needs is making its presence felt, a need that is manifestly not being met in our present form of the liturgy. For silence to be fruitful, as we have already said, it must not be just a pause in the action of the liturgy. No, it must be an integral part of the liturgical event."

May we all discover that adoring silence in this season of Lent and forevermore!

Discovering the Inner Monk

Saint John Cassian wrote: “Only they can contemplate Christ’s Divinity, with a very pure gaze, who rise up from earthly works, thoughts and passions.” As is said at Mass:
V/: Lift up your hearts.
R/: We lift them up to the Lord.

Our hearts are designed to be living altars from which we exercise our royal priesthood by offering sacrifice and praise to God. Lent not only calls us to these sacrifices and praises, but also to make it a personal mandate. Overcoming the obstacles which keep us from daily prayer, sets us on a long but fruitful journey through which vigilance and remaining spiritually awake could make our very lives a liturgy.

It begins by taking steps that remind us to pray when life’s busy-ness averts our focus away from God. In the monastery, the bell rings, calling the monks to pray the Divine Office. In the Carthusian tradition is the following: “As soon as the bell is heard for the Divine Office, we hasten promptly, because the bell’s voice is like the Voice of God that calls to prayer.” Similar steps can be taken by the laity. For example, there are those who set the alarm on their wristwatch for 3 p.m. or 1500 h. Our Lord taught us through Saint Faustina that this is the hour of mercy. By following that strategy, when the alarm goes off, one could perhaps pray the Divine Mercy chaplet, or if busy, simply take a moment to acknowledge the presence of God in one’s life.

Taking necessary steps sets our hearts in motion towards the divine, towards the goal of keeping our eyes fixed “on Jesus, the Author and Finisher of faith” (Hebrews 12:2). In the traditional liturgy for Ash Wednesday, our Lord Jesus Christ teaches us through Saint Matthew’s Gospel the following: “Ubi enim est thesaurus tuus, ibi est cor tuum – For where thy treasure is, there is thy heart also”(Matthew 6:21). Hopefully we all have our treasure and hearts set on celestial realms.

The serious pursuit of intimacy with the Most Holy Trinity will meet with difficulties because of our human weaknesses. “Lord, if it is You, tell me to come to You across the water” (Matthew 14:28). These are the familiar words of Saint Peter, but words that clearly delineate how our own shortcomings make the journey tedious. Peter could have successfully walked across the ocean and embrace Jesus, but he let the storm take his focus off of his Master.

While Lent calls us to “intense prayer” (Saint John Paul II), the Church is very aware of how the sojourn down the straight and narrow path can meet with setbacks. In her liturgies during Lent we see and hear words like, “Between the porch and the altar, the priests, the Lord’s ministers shall weep and shall say: ‘Spare, O Lord, spare Thy people; and close not the mouths that sing to Thee, O Lord.’” 

Once again in the traditional liturgy for Ash Wednesday is this prayer:
“Grant us, Lord, the grace to begin the Christian’s war of defense with holy fasts:
that as we do battle with the spirits of evil, we may be protected by the help of self-denial.”

And, when we fail in areas of self-denial and fasting, other words like: “Look upon us, O Lord, according to the multitude of Thy tender mercies” are in the liturgy to assist us. In Lent it is not our garments we rent but our hearts, that living altar.

Sacred Scripture and the Divine Office are great ways to hear the Voice of God. Saint Bernard said: “Because they are blessed who keep God’s Word, you keep it, so it will come down to the bottom of your soul.”

Sometimes God also calls us into the desert, that is, a place to be alone with God. Jesus said: “When you shall pray, enter into your chamber, and having shut the door, pray to your Father in secret, and your Father Who sees in secret will repay you” (Matthew 6:6). In solitude, God speaks to the heart. It is then that our hearts truly become a living altar, from which our prayers ascend to Him.

Theodore the Studite, a Byzantine monk said: “A monk is one who gazes at God alone, who ardently desires only God, who has consecrated himself to God and tries hard to give Him an undivided worship; he is in peace with God and becomes a source of peace for others.” There is a monk within each of us. The soul’s desire for God might be rejected by the flesh, but the soul’s longing to have intimacy with God doesn’t disappear. During this penitential season, may we all discover our own inner-monk.

Best wishes on your journey!