Mother Catherine Aurelia Caouette

Reflecting on her years as a youth, Mother Catherine Aurelia Caouette said: “I could sense the Divine from an early age.” Most unusual about her childhood was her desire to spend long hours in a church for adoration. And this desire was actually manifested in her early years as she would spend hours in church on her knees gazing at the Tabernacle. Her parents noticed in her something special and when they confided to their parish priest about their daughter, he said to them: “You have a child of predilection. Watch carefully over your treasure.” She was permitted to receive her First Communion at age nine which was about three years sooner than the norm for that time.

As a student, she played the role of Saint Catherine of Alexandria, in the play written by Reverend Joseph Sabin Raymond titled: “The Martyrdom of Saint Catherine.” In that play young Aurelia proclaimed with great passion a line which touched the audience, and a line which she would later say that her extraordinary devotion to the Precious Blood of Jesus Christ was brought to light at that moment. The line in the play was: “I feel in my soul all the energy of the Divine Blood; it is a generous Blood which desires only to be shed.”

Father Joseph Sabin Raymond became her spiritual director. Because of Aurelia’s incredible  sanctity and Father Raymond’s expertise in spiritual matters, he told her to keep a diary to which she was obedient. Because of her obedience to making entries in the diary, the world knows a great deal about her interior life. In October of 1849, she wrote: “Lord, You know what my heart desires most ardently: to be united to You in Your Sacrament of Love. It is so consoling for a miserable creature to possess You. You inflame me with such a burning love, You inspire me with so many beautiful sentiments, that it seems heaven is in my heart. If, however, O my Divine Savior, I am not worthy to possess You now in Your heavenly home, I wish, at least, to go often to adore You in Your Tabernacle, where I have already passed so many happy moments, where You have spoken mysteriously to my soul and where You have so many times given Yourself to me.”

In November of 1849 was this entry: “O my God, I conjure You, increase my desire to love You, to belong to You alone. O my Jesus, I shall love You all my life. You alone shall possess my heart. It is towards You, it is towards heaven that I wish, above all, to elevate my thoughts, my affections. Dispose of my entire being as it shall please You, but grant me, O well beloved Jesus, Your holy love, because without it, life would be too long, too sad. May all my actions be a continual prayer and may my heart be always turned towards You, O Infinite Beauty!”

Keep in mind that these are the writings of a sixteen year old. Feeling an intimate closeness to the Blessed Mother as well, in December of 1849 she wrote: “O Mary, permit me today to bless you in seeing you so pure! I love you, I venerate you, all beautiful Dove, the favorite of God and of His Elect. Amiable Mother, do not fail to cast a tender look upon the wounds of my soul. Draw my heart towards you and have pity on me. O my Mother, I long for you, I burn with the desire of seeing you in heaven.”

In 1850, after finishing her studies, she returned to her family, but remained under the direction of Father Raymond, whereby she wanted to occupy her soul with God alone. The now seventeen year old submitted to Monsignor Raymond a plan for her spiritual life which included meditation, Mass, work, adoration, silence, and spiritual reading.

She very much saw God in His creation. She wrote: “How glorious and sublime it is to enjoy the sight of an exquisite night! This clear sky which is obscured by no cloud, these brilliant stars which ornament the azure firmament, the moon, that queen of night which diffuses its soft light, this calm, this peace which reigns in all places, inspire one with thoughts of heaven. Omnipotent God, how this silence touches my soul! How it fills it with religious sentiments!” Her mysticism is now becoming more apparent.

This was her experience of watching the Tabernacle on Holy Thursday night, as recorded in her diary: “The consideration of the Agony of Jesus has continually occupied my mind. I have mingled the tears of my repentance with the Blood of my Well Beloved. I have suffered with Him. At one o’clock I was left alone for a few moments. I do not know what secret sentiment inspired me, I dared in spite of my fears, to mount to the altar – I kissed it, I bathed it with my tears – I pressed my lips to the door of the Tabernacle which encloses our love. It felt so good to be so near! I blessed, I loved, I thanked, I wept over my numerous sins. As I saw the Divine Blood flow in large drops, I presented to Him our souls. He blessed them in His Sacred Heart. Jesus asked the sacrifice of my entire self, docility and submission. I have the firm conviction that He will make me share some of His sufferings. I can suffer; it is my consolation! I wish only for suffering.”

In her spiritual hunger she wrote: “Father, the remembrance of Communion returns to me unceasingly. I am dying of hunger!”

In 1851 a dire illness kept her in bed for ten months. She said that she was cured miraculously at the end of a novena to Saint Catherine of Siena. She wrote: “It seemed to me that I saw my amiable protectress. Her whiteness equaled that of the lily. She was dazzling with grace and beauty and seemed to be blessing me with her hand in the Name of Jesus Christ, and in a whisper, she told me to hope and love.” This started what would blossom into a great devotion to Saint Catherine of Siena.

In 1853 she made a pilgrimage to Our Lady of Succor in Montreal. She told Father Raymond of her mystical experience there in which she saw the Blessed Virgin clothed in dazzling white, praying to her Son. Our Lady told her to make frequent Communions to console Jesus because of the many souls that forget Him.

Providence led to her to be the Founder of the Sisters Adorers of the Precious Blood, the first contemplative Order of nuns whose beginnings were in St. Hyacinth, Quebec. It was her deep contemplation of Christ’s love through His Passion which led to her great devotion of the Precious Blood.

The cause for her canonization officially began in November of 1984.

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!

* * * * * *

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.

A Vision of Our Blessed Lady

This is how Hugh de Miromars describes the wonderful part played by Our Lady in his choice of the monastery where he received the Carthusian habit.

“With good reason I had taken fright at the thought of a life in which honors, riches and pleasures combined only too well their attractions to render life easy and pleasant for me. Enlightened, however, by a ray of the eternal mercy, I determined to bid a last farewell to the world, and to withdraw to the desert of the Chartreuse, and embrace the austere Rule of the sons of Saint Bruno. The only question was which monastery I should choose as the blessed refuge of my soul, enamored forever of the only lasting good? At the time, I thought of the Charterhouse of Montrieux, of which I knew nothing more than the reputation for sanctity enjoyed by the community. I did not even know where it was.

"That was as far as I had got in my reflections, when one night I dreamed that I had to choose my bride. I found myself transported to a valley surrounded by high mountains. A spring gushed forth at my feet. It was there I awaited her to whom I was to be united for life. Long did I wait, but all to no purpose. Impatient at the delay, I began to pace up and down, thinking I would go away, when suddenly I found myself in the presence of a Lady whose modestly veiled countenance shone bright with nobility and beauty. I knew it to be our Blessed Lady. She was not more than average height: her complexion was as pure as alabaster. Raising my right arm, she deigned to rest it on her shoulder; then her gentle glance penetrated to the very depths of my enraptured eyes. ‘Beloved’, she said, ‘will you refuse me’? As one distraught, I cried out: ‘No, no, my Queen, a thousand times, No: I will not refuse you’. At these words, the vision faded.

"On visiting the Charterhouse of Montrieux some time later, Hugh found exactly that same scene of which Mary had shown him a glimpse. Needless to say, he was not long in entering the House of God, to be united to the chosen Bride of his heart" (Le Couteulx: Annales Ordinis Cartusiensis, Vol. IV, Monttreuil-sur-Mer, p. 94).

Elevating the Mind in Our Lord's Love

Today is the Memorial of Saint Catherine of Siena. In her "Dialogue" our Lord reveals some interesting things about prayer: the devil’s disruption of it, that he places himself on the tongues of individuals for the purpose of chattering, to prevent the beauty of silence and the soul’s immersion in prayer, how perseverance in prayer acquires every virtue, how the strength of the Sacrament of the Eucharist depends on us, and how a soul can become inebriated by means of a Spiritual Communion. Our Lord also speaks about praying the Psalms which intimates the Divine Office, and how vocal prayers alone are not sufficient. What is revealed here by Our Lord to Saint Catherine might give one cause to reflect on the ways of the world today: how uncomfortable silence has become to our society, the many words spoken on the political platform which seem to say too little, the noise of advanced technology, etc. This "Dialogue" may even say something to us about own life of prayer. Here’s what Our Lord told Saint Catherine.

* * * * * *

How is a lively faith to be recognized? By perseverance in virtue, and by the fact that the soul never turns back for anything, whatever it be, nor rises from holy prayer, for any reason except for obedience or charity’s sake. For no other reason ought she to leave off prayer, for, during the time ordained for prayer, the devil is wont to arrive in the soul, causing much more conflict and trouble than when the soul is not occupied in prayer. This he does in order that holy prayer may become tedious to the soul, tempting her often with these words: "This prayer avails you nothing, for you need attend to nothing except your vocal prayers." He acts thus in order that, becoming wearied and confused in mind, she may abandon the exercise of prayer, which is a weapon with which the soul can defend herself from every adversary, if grasped with the hand of love, by the arm of free choice in the light of the Holy Faith.

Know, dearest daughter, how, by humble, continual, and faithful prayer, the soul acquires, with time and perseverance, every virtue. Wherefore should she persevere and never abandon prayer, either through the illusion of the devil or her own fragility, that is to say, either on account of any thought or movement coming from her own body, or of the words of any creature. The devil often places himself upon the tongues of creatures, causing them to chatter nonsensically, with the purpose of preventing the prayer of the soul. All of this she should pass by, by means of the virtue of perseverance. Oh, how sweet and pleasant to that soul and to Me is holy prayer, made in the house of knowledge of self and of Me, opening the eye of the intellect to the light of faith, and the affections to the abundance of My charity, which was made visible to you, through My visible only-begotten Son, Who showed it to you with His Blood! This Blood inebriates the soul and clothes her with the fire of divine charity, giving her the food of the Sacrament [which is placed in the tavern of the mystical body of the Holy Church] that is to say, the food of the Body and Blood of My Son, wholly God and wholly man, administered to you by the hand of My vicar, who holds the key of the Blood. This food strengthens little or much, according to the desire of the recipient, whether he receives sacramentally or virtually. He receives sacramentally when he actually communicates with the Blessed Sacrament. He receives virtually when he communicates, both by desire of communion, and by contemplation of the Blood of Christ crucified, communicating, as it were, sacramentally, with the affection of love, which is to be tasted in the Blood which, as the soul sees, was shed through love. On seeing this, the soul becomes inebriated, and blazes with holy desire and satisfies herself, becoming full of love for Me and for her neighbor. Where can this be acquired? In the house of self-knowledge with holy prayer, where imperfections are lost, even as Peter and the disciples, while they remained in watching and prayer, lost their imperfection and acquired perfection. By what means is this acquired? By perseverance seasoned with the most holy faith.

But do not think that the soul receives such ardor and nourishment from prayer, if she prays only vocally, as do many souls whose prayers are rather words than love. Such as these give heed to nothing except to completing Psalms and saying many Paternosters. And when they have once completed their appointed tale, they do not appear to think of anything further, but seem to place devout attention and love in merely vocal recitation, which the soul is not required to do, for, in doing only this, she bears but little fruit, which pleases Me but little. But if you ask Me, whether the soul should abandon vocal prayer, since it does not seem to all that they are called to mental prayer, I should reply "No". The soul should advance by degrees, and I know well that, just as the soul is at first imperfect and afterwards perfect, so also is it with her prayer. She should nevertheless continue in vocal prayer, while she is yet imperfect, so as not to fall into idleness. But she should not say her vocal prayers without joining them to mental prayer, that is to say, that while she is reciting, she should endeavor to elevate her mind in My love, with the consideration of her own defects and of the Blood of My only-begotten Son, wherein she finds the breadth of My charity and the remission of her sins. I do not wish the soul to consider her sins, either in general or in particular, without also remembering the Blood and the broadness of My mercy, for fear that otherwise she should be brought to confusion. And together with confusion would come the devil, who has caused it, under color of contrition and displeasure of sin, and so she would arrive at eternal damnation, not only on account of her confusion, but also through the despair which would come to her, because she did not seize the arm of My mercy. This is one of the subtle devices with which the devil deludes My servants, and, in order to escape from his deceit, and to be pleasing to Me, you must enlarge your hearts and affections in My boundless mercy, with true humility. You know that the pride of the devil cannot resist the humble mind, nor can any confusion of spirit be greater than the broadness of My good mercy, if the soul will only truly hope therein. The moment she feels her mind disposed by My visitation, she should abandon vocal prayer; then, My visitation past, if there be time, she can resume the vocal prayers which she had resolved to say, but if she has not time to complete them, she ought not on that account to be troubled or suffer annoyance and confusion of mind; of course provided that it were not the Divine Office which clerics and religious are bound and obliged to say under penalty of offending Me, for, they must, until death, say their Office. But if they, at the hour appointed for saying it, should feel their minds drawn and raised by desire, they should so arrange as to say it before or after My visitation, so that the debt of rendering the Office be not omitted. But, in any other case, vocal prayer should be immediately abandoned for the said cause. Vocal prayer, made in the way that I have told you, will enable the soul to arrive at perfection, and therefore she should not abandon it, but use it in the way that I have told you.

A Counter-Cultural Adventure

The search for the Face of God is a difficult adventure. It requires a personal desire of the soul seeking such a gift and it requires much sacrifice in a world full of noise and distractions. Saint Anselm in his “Proslogion” takes us on a mystical journey.

Every Soul is Searching for Something
Indeed, and sadly for many, it takes a lifetime to realize that only God can satisfy all of one’s longings and desires.

Saint Anselm writes: “Have you found, my soul, what you were seeking? You were seeking God and you found Him to be that which is the Highest of all, in Whom nothing better can be pondered; and found Him to be Life itself, Light, Wisdom, Goodness, Eternal Blessedness, and exists everywhere and always.”

Can we put aside time consuming, temporal pleasures in this element of time and seek the things that are eternal? One has to accept and be prepared for a counter-cultural adventure.

A Desire to Know God More Fully
What we know about God is that which He has revealed. But for those who are seeking a closer union with Him, how does one get there, and will there be any words to describe what one has found.

Saint Anselm, in His thirst for God, writes: “Tell my longing soul what else You are besides what it has seen.”

This is a desire for deep, intense contemplation - to ponder, embrace and enter into the hidden life of Christ within each of us. This is a mystical kneeling before the altar of the heart in order to love and adore the Sacred Heart Who rests there and learn how to perfectly adore Him through the Immaculate Heart.

The Cross of this Journey
In our modern day there is much noise, distractions, and commitments which could easily lead one to fatigue or to sin and douse the flames of the heart’s spiritual desires.

Saint Anselm writes that the soul “sees that it cannot see more because of its own darkness.” He continues: “Truly, Lord, this is the inaccessible light in which You dwell. For there is nothing else which can penetrate through it to discover You there. I do not see this light since it is too much for me.”

This light which is too much for Anselm caused the face of Moses to shine after His encounter with the Most High on Mount Sinai (cf. Exodus 34:29-35); it is the light witnessed by Peter, James and John at the Transfiguration (cf. Luke 9:29-36); and it is the light which blinded Saint Paul (cf. Acts 9:3-9).

Prayer of Frustration
“O great and inaccessible Light! O whole and blessed Truth! How far You are from me who am so near to You! How withdrawn You are from my view while I am present to Your view! You are wholly present everywhere and I do not see You. In You I move and in You I have my being, and I cannot come near to You. You are within me and around me, and I do not experience You with my senses.”

There is a bit of the “dark night” experience in Anselm’s prayer. He wholeheartedly desires to commune with the Most Holy Trinity but cannot sense God or feel His Presence.

Hope does not Fail
If complete intimacy with the Lord does not come to fruition in this life, then, Saint Anselm prays, “may I progress every day until all comes to fullness; let the knowledge of You grow in me here in this life, and there in heaven let it be complete; let Your love grow in me here and reach fullness there, so that here my joy may be great in hope, and there be complete in reality.”

For the Remaining Days on Earth
“Let my mind meditate on You, let my tongue speak of You, let my heart love You, let my mouth preach You. Let my soul hunger for You, let my flesh thirst for You, my whole being desire You, until I enter into the joy of the Lord, Who is God, Three in One, blessed forever. Amen.”

What person bearing the name of “Christian” would not desire this! Why seek after things whose joys and rewards can only be temporary!

May our Blessed Mother, the Queen of contemplation and adoration, thwart everything that gets in our path to tempt us as we journey towards a more intimate union with her Son!

Signum Crucis

For the word of the Cross, to those indeed that perish, is foolishness; but to those that are saved, that is, to us, it is the power of God (1 Corinthians 1:18). With Christ I am nailed to the Cross. And I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me. And that I live now in the flesh, I live in the faith of the Son of God, Who loved me and delivered Himself for me (Galatians 2:20). God forbid that I should glory, save in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world is crucified to me, and I to the world (Galatians 6:14).

As Catholics, the Sign of the Cross is something we make often. Perhaps it is so repetitious that it is often a robotic gesture, something that is done without much thought or personal attention. But the Sign of the Cross is also a prayer and should be made with the same care as the most urgent petitions that approach the Throne of grace. The Sign of the Cross expresses the belief in our redemption and our belief in the Most Holy Trinity.

Tertullian, an early Church Father, wrote: "In all our travels and movements, in all our comings and goings, in putting on our shoes, at the bath, at the table, in lighting our candles, in lying down, in sitting down, whatever employment occupies us, we mark our foreheads with the Sign of the Cross" (Liber De Corona Militis). And from Saint Cyril of Jerusalem are these words: "Let us not be ashamed of the Cross of our Saviour, but rather glory in it. For it was not a mere man who died for us, but the Son of God, God made man. Many have been crucified throughout the world, but by none of these are the devils scared; but when they see even the Sign of the Cross of Christ, Who was crucified for us, they shudder(Catechesis XIII).

There is more than one way that the Sign of the Cross can be made. In her book, 'An Infinity of Little Hours' the author, Nancy Klein Macguire, writes: "They [the Carthusian monks] have their own Carthusian Sign of the Cross: to honor the Trinity, they make the Sign of the Cross with their first two fingers and thumb held together, their gesture describing a uniquely large cross, with their hands brushing the outside of each shoulder." Eastern rite Catholics and Orthodox Christians make the Sign of the Cross similar to the Carthusians only the direction is different. In the East they touch the right shoulder first and then the left.

Saint Bernadette Soubirous had the great pleasure of being taught by our Blessed Mother how to make the Sign of the Cross. Father Robert F. McNamara, author of 'Saints Alive' wrote: "Whether in the Rosary or at any other time, from the days of the Lourdes apparitions on, Bernadette was noted for the wonderful way she made the Sign of the Cross. One observer at the grotto later wrote, 'If the Sign of the Cross is made in heaven, it can only be made in this manner.' Everybody marveled at the way she crossed herself -- slowly, reverently, 'with majesty.'

'It is important to make it well,' she told one of her fellow novices in the convent. The sisters respected the way she blessed herself, because they knew who had taught her. It was Our Lady herself, during the Lourdes apparitions."

It has also been said that there are those, after witnessing Saint Bernadette make the Sign of the Cross, had a conversion experience. Regardless of what style or tradition one follows, the Sign of the Cross should be made with great reverence, because like genuflecting and bowing, it is yet another way that we pray with the physical body.

The Hill of Incense

Today we turn to the writings of the Carthusian, Dom Louis-Marie Rouvier. In this particular piece he makes use of the wisdom of other Carthusians: Denys, a prolific writer in the Order, and Dom Le Masson who indirectly quotes from Saint Francis de Sales in a portion of what he shares here. There is also an introduction to a very pious Carthusian lay-brother, Bruno Lhuillier. The writings of Dom Louis-Marie Rouvier tend to be like teaching tools for those within the Carthusian Order. Today’s topic is learning how to contemplate while being active; and our Lady, of course, did it to perfection. The “hill of incense,” which Dom Rouvier quotes from Canticles, signifies Calvary, where we “make ourselves fit to draw nearer to infinite Holiness.” The hill of incense is where the faithful pour forth their prayers and learn from Jesus and His Mother how to live more of a life of self-denial and practice asceticism at least to some degree.

* * * * * *

The practice of self-denial is indispensable in the contemplative life. Those alone can aspire to union with God who have crucified the old man, with its concupiscence (cf. Romans 6:6 & Colossians 3:5). Nevertheless, it is not our end. We purify ourselves by self-denial, only in order to make ourselves fit to draw nearer to infinite Holiness. We have to go to the mountain of myrrh, but it is in order to climb later the hill of incense (cf. Canticles 4:6). The foundation of our Carthusian life must be prayer – prayer of the heart, and vocal prayer. “Regular observance,” says the Prologue to our Statutes, “by ordering the external man, ought to make us seek God more zealously, find Him more readily, and enjoy Him more fully.” Thus the carta of the General Chapter of 1893, in treating of the training of choir-novices, expressly required that they should be formed to the interior life, maintaining that, without the spirit of prayer, possessed at least to some extent, fidelity to the Rule and the practice of the solitary life would be like a body without a soul.

The same principle should inspire the life of the Brothers. Carthusian lay-brothers have to sanctify themselves more by prayer than by work. They are true religious, vowed in consequence to the work of their perfection, and obliged by vow always to attend to God by prayer and love. “We do not wish,” say the Brothers’ Statutes, “that the Brothers should be so occupied with external duties that they should neglect the fulfillment of their spiritual exercises at the times these are due” (Statuta Ordinis Cartusiensis, II Pars I, 3). Here again, Mary should be our model. “The Blessed Virgin,” says our Denys, “made continuous progress in the contemplative life, and the external work she was obliged to undertake in no way hindered her contemplation. If, however, her union with God was interrupted for a moment for some good cause outside of herself, she at once returned to it with a fervor always more intense” (Denys: On the dignity of the Mother of God, Bk. I, XXV).

“The Mother of God,” writes Dom Le Masson in his turn, “practiced to a degree of absolute perfection what has been said of the choice of the better part, in seeking always the one thing necessary (Luke 10:42). Never has anyone reconciled the exercises of the contemplative and active lives as she did. Saint Francis de Sales says, not without a touch of humor, that he could have reconciled the two sisters, Martha and Mary, by arranging that the one should take the place of the other for a little while, and thus they would relieve each other in turn. But our Blessed Lady harmonized both so perfectly that the need for action never deterred her from contemplation, nor did her contemplation ever hinder her from such action as she was called upon to practice through charity, or by the duties of her state” (Dom Le Masson: Subjects for Meditation, ch. II).

“Mary was a creature,” continues Dom Le Masson, “in whom there was nothing human except her body. Sin had never entered into her soul, neither in origin nor in act. Her soul had communicated to her body that purity with which it had been endowed when it came from the Hand of God. She was like a flame, tending ever upwards, and bound to this poor earth only as a fire is dependent upon the wood which nourishes it, and so long as that ‘matter’ remained to hold her back. Her contemplation was like a sun which blinds us with its brightness. We should rejoice with her in her perfections and in her grace, but while we contemplate the workings of God’s grace in her soul, we must honor the divine vocation which has called us to the part of Mary (cf. Luke 10:42). We must ask her help that we may follow it as she did, so as to bring our actions into harmony with the application of our mind to God, if not with the perfection of her fulfillment, at least in the degree of our capacity.”

If this ideal is too high for our frailty, let us consider a model more on our level, and see how one of Mary’s servants reconciled his devotion and his work in his life as a Carthusian lay-brother. Brother Bruno Lhuillier of the Charterhouse of Bosserville, possessed the gift of piety to a very marked degree. For him, this consisted in conversing with God whenever possible, and in loving Him always. He led on earth – that is, with his body – the life which, in heaven, comprises the beatitude of the Blessed. All unconsciously, he would enter into a state of contemplation wholly angelic; as, for example, when he recited the prolonged Sanctus as the bell tolled before the Consecration at the conventual Mass. And he would repeat that same Sanctus often during the day, always with the same result. Another custom of his was to repeat again and again the words Ave Maria. He would say that that was all he was fit for, and this he certainly did to perfection. For indeed, it was the Holy Spirit Who prayed in him, as Saint Paul says, with unspeakable groanings (Romans 8:26).

Let us follow in the steps of this very loving son of our heavenly Mother, by being exact in the accomplishment of the spiritual exercises prescribed by our Rule. We should make our occupations a continual prayer, by our purity of intention and by the practice of ejaculatory prayers. We should profit by all that happens to raise to God our hearts which, purified more and more as they make contact with infinite Holiness, will daily become more united to Him Whose love should be our mainstay in our exile here below, and our joy in the life to come.

Union with the Highest Good

The following is excerpted from a homily by the fourteenth-century German Dominican theologian and mystic, Johannes Tauler. In this particular sermon, he reflects on Christmas and how we as God’s human creation ought to respond to our Lord’s love. And we do this by exhibiting the qualities of true children of God which have been demonstrated to us by the example of Jesus Christ. Johannes Tauler makes use of the wisdom of Saint Augustine, Dionysius, and Saint Anselm in this homily.

* * * * * *

Dear children, God has wrought a great wonder, and manifested the greatness of His love towards us, in that He has looked down upon us, who were His enemies, aliens and far off from Him, with such mercy as to give us power to become His sons and children; therefore it behooves us not to show ourselves ungrateful for such kindness, but to put on the true marks and qualities of the elect, beloved children of God.

He who would be a son of our Father in Heaven must be a stranger among the children of this world, and must have an earnest mind and a single eye, with a heart inclined towards God. Now such a one is made a son of God when he is born again in God, and this takes place with every fresh revelation of God to his soul. A man is born of the Spirit when he permits God's work to be wrought in his soul; yet it is not this which makes the soul to be perfectly blessed, but that revelation makes the soul to follow after Him Who has revealed Himself to her, and in Whom she is born anew, with love and praise.

The beloved children of God renounce themselves, and hence they do right without effort, and mount up to the highest point of goodness; while he who will not let go of himself, but does right by labor and toil, will never reach the highest that he might. Men who live on the outside of things are a great hindrance in the way of goodness by their many idle words. Therefore those who wish to foster the inner life of their souls, are in great danger of receiving hurt from things which are said without thought, especially when many are together. He who repents of what he has said as soon as the words are out of his mouth, is one of the careless speakers. He only is a good son who has cast off his old sins and evil habits; for without this it is impossible that he should be created anew in Christ Jesus.

It is a mark of the children of God that they see their own little faults and shortcomings to be great sins. We must let all things be to us merely the supply of our wants, and possess them in their nothingness. The great work and aim of the beloved children of God is to shun all sin, deadly or trifling, that they may not grieve God's spirit; for they know, as Saint Augustine says, that for the smallest habitual sin which is not punished and laid aside in this present life, they will have to suffer more than all the pains of this world. Hence Anselm says, that he would rather die, and that this world should be destroyed, than commit one sin a day knowingly. And Augustine says: "The soul is created eternal, and therefore she cannot rest but in God."

Dionysius says: "To be converted to the truth means nothing else but a turning from the love of created things, and a coming into union with the uncreated Highest Good. And in one who is thus converted there is a joy beyond conception, and his understanding is unclouded and not perverted by the love of earthly things, and is mirrored in his conscience, in the mirror of God's Mind. Love is the noblest of all virtues, for it makes man divine, and makes God man."

A certain teacher has said that if a man will give his heart and life to God, God will give him in return greater gifts than if he were to suffer death over again for him.

Now that man shall attain unto the Highest Good who is ready to descend into the lowest depths of poverty. And this comes to pass when he is cast into utter wretchedness and forsaken of all creatures and all comfort. And let him ask help of none; let him be as knowing nothing, and as though he had never been anything but a fool; let him have none to take compassion on him, even so much as to give him a cup of cold water to drink; yet let him never forget God in his heart, and never shrink from God's searching Eye of judgment, though he knows not what its verdict will be; but with a cheerful and thankful spirit yield himself up to suffer whatever God shall appoint unto him, and to fulfill according to his power, by the grace of God, all His holy will to the utmost that he can discern it, and never complain of his distresses but to God alone with entire and humble resignation, praying that he may be strong to endure all his sufferings according to the will of God. Dear children, what glorious sons of God would such men be! What wonders would God work through them to the magnifying of His glory! These are the true and righteous men who trust in God, and cleave to Him in spirit and in truth! That we may thus become His sons, may God help us by His grace! Amen.

O Virgin, Receive Our Last Breath

This reflection was written by the Carthusian, Dom Louis Rouvier. It really allows us to take a peak into some Carthusian gems concerning our Blessed Lady. There is some namedropping in this writing which gives us a rare opportunity to read about some Carthusians who have had personal experiences with our Blessed Mother. Unless we were in the Order, these are monks that otherwise we probably would never hear of. Most likely, Dom Louis Rouvier’s intention was that this was to be shared only with his own and other Carthusian Houses. But his thoughts here have found their way outside of monastery walls. There is one name, however, that is mentioned who has some accolades outside of the Order, and that is Dom Henry Kalkar. He was also a writer in the Carthusian Order and was the Prior of several Charterhouses in Germany. He died at 80 years of age in the year 1408 where he was serving as Prior of Cologne. Dom Louis Rouvier, in this writing, also shares some Carthusian prayer customs. The main theme of this reflection is death, and how a strong devotion to our Lady doesn’t come to full fruition until that most mysterious moment of transition from this life into eternity.

* * * * * * 

“In me is all grace of the way, and of the truth; in me is hope of all life and virtue” (Ecclesiasticus 24:25). These words the Church puts on the lips of our Lady in her Office that we say every day. It is at death and only at death that devotion to Mary receives its final fruit. Thus it is particularly with this moment in view that we address to the Queen of Heaven our most ardent entreaties. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us . . . now . . . and at the hour of our death.

In our Carthusian liturgy, five times a day, in the hymn of her Office, the . . . religious repeat to the most powerful Protectress of the dying, the words:

Per tuum, Virgo Filium,
Per Partem, per Paracletum,
Adsis prœsens ab obitum,
Nostrum muni exitum.

O Virgin, by your Son,
By the Father, and the Holy Spirit
Receive our last breath
And protect us at our departure from this world.

What has been her response to a plea made to her name of all that is dearest to her heart?

In this prayer, so frequently renewed, is largely the secret of the interior peace which most always surrounds the death of a Carthusian. Often enough in the course of the ages, God has revealed by exterior signs the efficacy of this assiduous recourse to her who is called Consoler of the Afflicted (Litany of Our Lady).

First, there is the incident recorded in our annals of the professed monk of the Charterhouse of Vallis Christi in Spain, Dom Giles de Bidon, who had the happiness of leading two Moslems to the Christian faith. As he lay dying, a third follower of the Prophet, whom he had tried in vain to convert, entered his cell. The good monk earnestly recommended him to our Blessed Lady, who at that moment had appeared to him to announce his approaching death. Suddenly, touched by grace, the follower of the Prophet asked for baptism, and Dom Giles breathed his last breath in a rapture of gratitude for the supreme consolation granted him (Le Vasseur: Ephemerides, Volume II).

Dom James Saline of the Charterhouse of Porta Cœli, near Valencia, loved to address his Mother often with this greeting: Salve, Sancta Parens (Introit of the Mass of Our Lady). Now, three days before he died, it being a Wednesday, when the community had gathered around him to assist him with their prayer, he said: “Do not be anxious, dear Fathers, I shall not die until next Saturday when you are singing the Salve, Sancta Parens.” And so it came about. At the Introit of the conventual Mass, it being the Mass of Our Lady, as the first words of the Introit were being sung, the soul of the Father took flight (Le Vasseur: Ephemerides, Volume III).

Dom Cyril Abendaño, a monk of Vallis Christi, after receiving the Last Sacraments, was transported in spirit, as he himself related after coming out of his rapture, to the Spring called Ribas, which gushes forth at the foot of a mountain, at the summit of which is found a grotto where there is a statue of the Madonna. “Our Lady of the Grotto,” he said, “purify me in the fountain.” At that, he came to himself, filled, as he said, with heavenly consolations. And as he lay dying, he had the strength to sing the Salve Regina, and the prayer Sub tuum præsidium (We fly to thy protection, O holy Mother of God). His last prayer was: “O Maria, absque peccati originalis labe concepta . . . O Mary, conceived without sin.”

O most beloved Mother of the Carthusians, continue to grant to the sons of Saint Bruno your assistance at the hour when their eternity is at stake. Extend to all the Houses of the Order the favor which you declared to a novice of the Charterhouse of Montrieux. “I promise,” you told him, “the religious of this House that they will all enjoy in their last moments the perfect purity of conscience, and that they will fall asleep with tranquility and in peace” (Molin: Historia Cartusiana, Volume I). For all our brethren still suffering in exile, we address to you, O heavenly Mother, this prayer which you yourself taught to one of your most devout servants, Dom Henry Kalkar: “O Queen of virgins, surpassing Tabernacle of the august Trinity, Mirror of the angels, Ladder of saints, and sure Refuge of sinners – behold our distress, O loving Mother, and pray for us now and in the hour of our death. Amen” (Le Vasseur: Ephemerides, Volume IV).

Engaged in the Service of God

For this day’s Memorial of Saint Martin of Tours, here’s an excerpt from “The Life of Saint Martin” by the ancient Christian writer, Sulpicius Severus. In this particular excerpt, Saint Martin’s compassion is evident. Also very evident is Martin’s monastic/eremitic spirit: living in a cell, his mind always focused on heaven, his fasting and abstinence, and an interior life that has him always engaged in the service of God. This is a very inspiring piece for anyone who is serious about their Christian journey.

* * * * * *

Martin was born at Sabaria in Hungary but was educated at Pavia in Italy. His pagan parents were of no mean rank: his father was at first simply a soldier but became a military tribune. The youthful Martin followed a military career, serving on horseback in the Imperial Guard under the Emperor Constantine, and then under Julius. This, however, was not done of his own free will, because since his earliest years, this noble youth aspired to serve God; in fact, when he was ten years old, despite family resistance, he sought refuge in the Church and asked to become a catechumen. Soon afterwards, he wanted to devote himself entirely to God’s work and wished to live in the desert; and he would have followed up on that burning desire if the weakness of his twelve years of age had not prevented him. His heart, however, being always engaged in matters of hermitages or the Church, always meditated on in his boyish years what he afterwards accomplished.

One winter’s day, more severe than usual, so much that people were dying from the extreme cold, Martin, who was wearing only a cloak and military arms, happened to meet at the gate of the city of Amiens, a half-naked beggar. The poor fellow was begging those who passed by to take pity upon his misery, but all passed by him without notice. The man of God recognized that a being to whom others showed no pity, was, in that respect, left to him. Yet, what should he do? He had nothing except the cloak, for he had already parted with the rest of his garments for similar good works. Taking, therefore, his sword with which he was girt, he divided his cloak into two equal parts, and gave one part to the poor man, while he again clothed himself with the remainder. Some of the bystanders mocked him, finding it ridiculous that he stood out as but partly dressed. Many, however, who were of sounder understanding, groaned deeply because they themselves had done nothing similar; they could have clothed the poor man without reducing themselves to nakedness. The next night, when Martin was asleep, Christ appeared to him dressed in that part of his cloak with which he had dressed the poor man. As he contemplated the Lord with the greatest attention, the saint recognized the clothes Jesus was wearing. Then he heard Him cry out loudly to the multitude of angels standing round: “Martin, a simple catechumen, clothed Me with this robe.”

After leaving the military, Martin went to Saint Hilary, bishop of Poitiers, who even then was a recognized authority in theology, and spent some time with him. Now, this same Hilary, having instituted him in the office of the diaconate, endeavored still more closely to attach him to himself, and to bind him by leading him to take part in the service of God, but Martin repeatedly refused, declaring that he was unworthy. The wise bishop felt that the only way to engage him would be to give him functions that were quite humiliating. He therefore appointed him to be an exorcist. The young man did not dare refuse this appointment, for fear that he might seem to have looked down upon it as somewhat humble.

Later, Martin was called upon to be the bishop of Tours. With perfect firmness, he remained the same as he had been before: the same humility of heart, and the same homeliness in his garments. He performed the duties of bishop with prestige and authority, without betraying the objects and virtues of a monk. For a time he lived in a cell adjacent to the church. Then, no longer able to bear the disturbance of so many visitors, he moved to a hermitage just outside of town. This was a retreat so remote that he enjoyed in it the solitude of a hermit. On one side, it was surrounded by a precipitous rock of a lofty mountain, while the river Loire had shut in the rest of the plain by a bay extending back for a little distance; and the place could be approached only by one, and that a very narrow passage. Martin occupied a cell constructed of wood, and also several brothers in the same manner. But the majority preferred to dig a shelter into the rock from the mountain above. There were altogether eighty disciples, who were being disciplined after the example of the saintly master.

The interior life of Martin, his daily conduct and his mind always bent upon the things of heaven, no discourse could adequately express. Mentioned would be his perseverance and self-mastery in abstinence and fasting, and his power in vigilance and prayer, along with the nights, as well as days, which were spent by him, while not a moment was separated from the service of God, either for indulging in ease, or engaging in business. In fact, he did not indulge either in food or sleep, except in so far as the necessities of nature required. Never did a single hour or moment pass in which he was not either actually engaged in prayer; or, if it happened that he was occupied with something else, still he never let his mind loose from prayer. In truth, just as it is the custom of blacksmiths, in the midst of their work to beat their own anvil as a sort of relief to the laborer, so Martin even when he appeared to be doing something else, was still engaged in prayer.

Blessed is the man in whom there was no guile - judging no man, condemning no man, returning evil for evil to no man! His patience was such a strong armor against any offense. Even when he was chief priest, he allowed himself to be wronged by the lowest clerics with impunity; nor did he either remove them from the office on account of such conduct, or, as far as in him lay, repel them from a place in his affection. No one ever saw Martin angry, upset, distressed, or in the throes of laughter. He was always one and the same, his face radiant with the joy of heaven, seeming to belong to another world. Never was there any word on his lips but Christ, and never was there a feeling in his heart except piety, peace, and tender mercy. Frequently, too, he used to weep for the sins of those who showed themselves his revilers -- those who, as he led his retired and tranquil life, slandered him with poisoned tongue and a viper's mouth.

Martin had predicted long before the day in which he would die. When he suddenly felt the forces of the body leave him, he summoned the brothers and warned them of his impending death. Everyone was very much saddened and in tears, as if becoming one and saying: “Why do you abandon us Father? Why do you leave us desolate? If ravenous wolves attack the flock, who will defend us from their bites? To whom will you entrust the care of your disconsolate children?” Deeply moved, Martin turned to God: “Lord, if I am still necessary for Your people, I will not refuse the labor. Your will be done!”

O great man beyond words, not defeated by troubles, invincible in the face of death! He had no fear of dying. When the bystanders saw that, despite his great fever, he remained lying on his back, they besought him to change position to alleviate somewhat the pain. But Martin answered, “Brothers, rather let me look toward heaven than to earth so that my soul in its journey home may take a direct flight to the Lord.” Shortly before death he saw the evil spirit. “What do you want, horrible beast? You will find nothing in me that is yours!” With those words, he gave his soul to God.

Sancte Martine, ora pro nobis!