CHAPTER XI
Wherein it is proved necessary that the soul that would attain to
Divine union should be free from desires, however slight they be.
I EXPECT that for a long time the reader has been wishing to ask
whether it be necessary, in order to attain to this high estate of
perfection, to undergo first of all total mortification in all the
desires, great and small, or if it will suffice to mortify some of
them and to leave others, those at least which seem of little
moment. For it appears to be a severe and most difficult thing for
the soul to be able to attain to such purity and detachment that it
has no will and affection for anything.
2. To this I reply: first, that it is true that all the desires
are not equally hurtful, nor do they all equally embarrass the soul.
I am speaking of those that are voluntary, for the natural desires
hinder the soul little, if at all, from attaining to union, when
they are not consented to nor pass beyond the first movements (I
mean, all those wherein the rational will has had no part, whether
at first or afterward); and to take away these -- that is, to
mortify them wholly in this life -- is impossible. And these hinder
not the soul in such a way as to prevent its attainment to Divine
union, even though they be not, as I say, wholly mortified; for the
natural man may well have them, and yet the soul may be quite free
from them according to the rational spirit. For it will sometimes
come to pass that the soul will be in the full union of the prayer
of quiet in the will at the very time when these desires are
dwelling in the sensual part of the soul, and yet the higher part,
which is in prayer, will have nothing to do with them. But all the
other voluntary desires, whether they be of mortal sin, which are
the gravest, or of venial sin, which are less grave, or whether they
be only of imperfections, which are the least grave of all, must be
driven away every one, and the soul must be free from them all,
howsoever slight they be, if it is to come to this complete union;
and the reason is that the state of this Divine union consists in
the soul's total transformation, according to the will, in the will
of God, so that, there may be naught in the soul that is contrary to
the will of God, but that, in all and through all, its movement may
be that of the will of God alone.
3. It is for this reason that we say of this state that it is the
making of two wills into one -- namely, into the will of God, which
will of God is likewise the will of the soul. For if this soul
desired any imperfection that God wills not, there would not be made
one will of God, since the soul would have a will for that which God
has not. It is clear, then, that for the soul to come to unite
itself perfectly with God through love and will, it must first be
free from all desire of the will, howsoever slight. That is, that it
must not intentionally and knowingly consent with the will to
imperfections, and it must have power and liberty to be able not so
to consent intentionally. I say knowingly, because, unintentionally
and unknowingly, or without having the power to do otherwise, it may
well fall into imperfections and venial sins, and into the natural
desires whereof we have spoken; for of such sins as these which are
not voluntary and surreptitious it is written that the just man
shall fall seven times in the day and shall rise up again. But of
the voluntary desires, which, though they be for very small things,
are, as I have said, intentional venial sins, any one that is not
conquered suffices to impede union. I mean, if this habit be not
mortified; for sometimes certain acts of different desires have not
as much power when the habits are mortified. Still, the soul will
attain to the stage of not having even these, for they likewise
proceed from a habit of imperfection. But some habits of voluntary
imperfections, which are never completely conquered, prevent not
only the attainment of Divine union, but also progress in
perfection.
4. These habitual imperfections are, for example, a common custom
of much speaking, or some slight attachment which we never quite
wish to conquer -- such as that to a person, a garment, a book, a
cell, a particular kind of food, tittle-tattle, fancies for tasting,
knowing or hearing certain things, and suchlike. Any one of these
imperfections, if the soul has become attached and habituated to it,
is of as great harm to its growth and progress in virtue as though
it were to fall daily into many other imperfections and usual venial
sins which proceed not from a habitual indulgence in any habitual
and harmful attachment, and will not hinder it so much as when it
has attachment to anything. For as long as it has this there is no
possibility that it will make progress in perfection, even though
the imperfection be extremely slight. For it comes to the same thing
whether a bird be held by a slender cord or by a stout one; since,
even if it be slender, the bird will be well held as though it were
stout, for so long as it breaks it not and flies not away. It is
true that the slender one is the easier to break; still, easy though
it be, the bird will not fly away if it be not broken. And thus the
soul that has attachment to anything, however much virtue it
possess, will not attain to the liberty of Divine union. For the
desire and the attachment of the soul have that power which the
sucking-fish is said to have when it clings to a ship; for, though
but a very small fish, if it succeed in clinging to the ship, it
makes it incapable of reaching the port, or of sailing on at all. It
is sad to see certain souls in this plight; like rich vessels, they
are laden with wealth and good works and spiritual exercises, and
with the virtues and the favours that God grants them; and yet,
because they have not the resolution to break with some whim or
attachment or affection (which all come to the same thing), they
never make progress or reach the port of perfection, though they
would need to do no more than make one good flight and thus to snap
that cord of desire right off, or to rid themselves of that
sucking-fish of desire which clings to them.
5. It is greatly to be lamented that, when God has granted them
strength to break other and stouter cords -- namely, affections for
sins and vanities -- they should fail to attain to such blessing
because they have not shaken off some childish thing which God had
bidden them conquer for love of Him, and which is nothing more than
a thread or a hair. And, what is worse, not only do they make no
progress, but because of this attachment they fall back, lose that
which they have gained, and retrace that part of the road along
which they have travelled at the cost of so much time and labour;
for it is well known that, on this road, not to go forward is to
turn back, and not to be gaining is to be losing. This Our Lord
desired to teach us when He said: 'He that is not with Me is against
Me; and he that gathereth not with Me scattereth.' He that takes not
the trouble to repair the vessel, however slight be the crack in it,
is likely to spill all the liquid that is within it. The Preacher
taught us this clearly when he said: He that contemneth small things
shall fall by little and little. For, as he himself says, a great
fire cometh from a single spark. And thus one imperfection is
sufficient to lead to another; and these lead to yet more; wherefore
you will hardly ever see a soul that is negligent in conquering one
desire, and that has not many more arising from the same weakness
and imperfection that this desire causes. In this way they are
continually filling; we have seen many persons to whom God has been
granting the favour of leading them a long way, into a state of
great detachment and liberty, yet who, merely through beginning to
indulge some slight attachment, under the pretext of doing good, or
in the guise of conversation and friendship, often lose their
spirituality and desire for God and holy solitude, fall from the joy
and wholehearted devotion which they had in their spiritual
exercises, and cease not until they have lost everything; and this
because they broke not with that beginning of sensual desire and
pleasure and kept not themselves in solitude for God.
6. Upon this road we must ever journey in order to attain our
goal; which means that we must ever be mortifying our desires and
not indulging them; and if they are not all completely mortified we
shall not completely attain. For even as a log of wood may fail to
be transformed in the fire because a single degree of heat is
wanting to it, even so the soul will not be transformed in God if it
have but one imperfection, although it be something less than
voluntary desire; for, as we shall say hereafter concerning the
night of faith, the soul has only one will, and that will, if it be
embarrassed by aught and set upon by aught, is not free, solitary,
and pure, as is necessary for Divine transformation.
7. Of this that has been said we have a figure in the Book of the
Judges, where it is related that the angel came to the children of
Israel and said to them that, because they had not destroyed that
forward people, but had made a league with some of them, they would
therefore be left among them as enemies, that they might be to them
an occasion of stumbling and perdition. And just so does God deal
with certain souls: though He has taken them out of the world, and
slain the giants, their sins, and destroyed the multitude of their
enemies, which are the occasions of sin that they encountered in the
world, solely that they may enter this Promised Land of Divine union
with greater liberty, yet they harbour friendship and make alliance
with the insignificant peoples -- that is, with imperfections -- and
mortify them not completely; therefore Our Lord is angry, and allows
them to fall into their desires and go from bad to worse.
8. In the Book of Josue, again, we have a figure of what has just
been said -- where we read that God commanded Josue, at the time
that he had to enter into possession of the Promised Land, to
destroy all things that were in the city of Jericho, in such wise as
to leave therein nothing alive, man or woman, young or old, and to
slay all the beasts, and to take naught, neither to covet aught, of
all the spoils. This He said that we may understand how, if a man is
to enter this Divine union, all that lives in his soul must die,
both little and much, small and great, and that the soul must be
without desire for all this, and detached from it, even as though it
existed not for the soul, neither the soul for it. This Saint Paul
teaches us clearly in his epistle ad Corinthios, saying:
'This I say to you, brethren, that the time is short; it remains,
and it behoves you, that they that have wives should be as if they
had none; and they that weep for the things of this world, as though
they wept not; and they that rejoice, as if they rejoiced not; and
they that buy, as though they possessed not; and they that use this
world, as if they used it not.' This the Apostle says to us in order
to teach us how complete must be the detachment of our soul from all
things if it is to journey to God.
CHAPTER XII
Which treats of the answer to another question, explaining what
the desires are that suffice to cause the evils aforementioned in
the soul.
WE might write at greater length upon this matter of the night of
sense, saying all that there is to say concerning the harm which is
caused by the desires, not only in the ways aforementioned, but in
many others. But for our purpose that which has been said suffices;
for we believe we have made it clear in what way the mortification
of these desires is called night, and how it behoves us to enter
this night in order to journey to God. The only thing that remains,
before we treat of the manner of entrance therein, in order to bring
this part to a close, is a question concerning what has been said
which might occur to the reader.
2. It may first be asked if any desire can be sufficient to work
and produce in the soul the two evils aforementioned -- namely, the
privative, which consists in depriving the soul of the grace of God,
and the positive, which consists in producing within it the five
serious evils whereof we have spoken. Secondly, it may be asked if
any desire, however slight it be and of whatever kind, suffices to
produce all these together, or if some desires produce some and
others produce others. If, for example, some produce torment;
others, weariness; others, darkness, etc.
3. Answering this question, I say, first of all, that with
respect to the privative evil -- which consists in the soul's being
deprived of God -- this is wrought wholly, and can only be wrought,
by the voluntary desires, which are of the matter of mortal sin; for
they deprive the soul of grace in this life, and of glory, which is
the possession of God, in the next. In the second place, I say that
both those desires which are of the matter of mortal sin, and the
voluntary desires, which are of the matter of venial sin, and those
that are of the matter of imperfection, are each sufficient to
produce in the soul all these positive evils together; the which
evils, although in a certain way they are privative, we here call
positive, since they correspond to a turning towards the creature,
even as the privative evils correspond to a turning away from God.
But there is this difference, that the desires which are of mortal
sin produce total blindness, torment, impurity, weakness, etc. Those
others, however, which are of the matter of venial sin or
imperfection, produce not these evils in a complete and supreme
degree, since they deprive not the soul of grace, upon the loss of
which depends the possession of them, since the death of the soul is
their life; but they produce them in the soul remissly,
proportionately to the remission of grace which these desires
produce in the soul. So that desire which most weakens grace will
produce the most abundant torment, blindness and defilement.
4. It should be noted, however, that, although each desire
produces all these evils, which we here term positive, there are
some which, principally and directly, produce some of them, and
others which produce others, and the remainder are produced
consequently upon these. For, although it is true that one sensual
desire produces all these evils, yet its principal and proper effect
is the defilement of soul and body. And, although one avaricious
desire produces them all, its principal and direct result is to
produce misery. And, although similarly one vainglorious desire
produces them all, its principal and direct result is to produce
darkness and blindness. And, although one gluttonous desire produces
them all, its principal result is to produce lukewarmness in virtue.
And even so is it with the rest.
5. And the reason why any act of voluntary desire produces in the
soul all these effects together lies in the direct contrariety which
exists between them and all the acts of virtue which produce the
contrary effects in the soul. For, even as an act of virtue produces
and begets in the soul sweetness, peace, consolation, light,
cleanness and fortitude altogether, even so an unruly desire causes
torment, fatigue, weariness, blindness and weakness. All the virtues
grow through the practice of any one of them, and all the vices grow
through the practice of any one of them likewise, and the remnants
of each grow in the soul. And although all these evils are not
evident at the moment when the desire is indulged, since the
resulting pleasure gives no occasion for them, yet the evil remnants
which they leave are clearly perceived, whether before or
afterwards. This is very well illustrated by that book which the
angel commanded Saint John to eat, in the Apocalypse, the which book
was sweetness to his mouth, and in his belly bitterness. For the
desire, when it is carried into effect, is sweet and appears to be
good, but its bitter taste is felt afterwards; the truth of this can
be clearly proved by anyone who allows himself to be led away by it.
Yet I am not ignorant that there are some men so blind and
insensible as not to feel this, for, as they do not walk in God,
they are unable to perceive that which hinders them from approaching
Him.
6. I am not writing here of the other natural desires which are
not voluntary, and of thoughts that go not beyond the first
movements, and other temptations to which the soul is not
consenting; for these produce in the soul none of the evils
aforementioned. For, although a person who suffers from them may
think that the passion and disturbance which they then produce in
him are defiling and blinding him, this is not the case; rather they
are bringing him the opposite advantages. For, in so far as he
resists them, he gains fortitude, purity, light and consolation, and
many blessings, even as Our Lord said to Saint Paul: That virtue was
made perfect in weakness. But the voluntary desires work all the
evils aforementioned, and more. Wherefore the principal care of
spiritual masters is to mortify their disciples immediately with
respect to any desire soever, by causing them to remain without the
objects of their desires, in order to free them from such great
misery.
CHAPTER XIII
Wherein is described the manner and way which the soul must
follow in order to enter this night of sense.
IT now remains for me to give certain counsels whereby the soul
may know how to enter this night of sense and may be able so to do.
To this end it must be known that the soul habitually enters this
night of sense in two ways: the one is active; the other passive.
The active way consists in that which the soul can do, and does, of
itself, in order to enter therein, whereof we shall now treat in the
counsels which follow. The passive way is that wherein the soul does
nothing, and God works in it, and it remains, as it were, patient.
Of this we shall treat in the fourth book, where we shall be
treating of beginners. And because there, with the Divine favour, we
shall give many counsels to beginners, according to the many
imperfections which they are apt to have while on this road, I shall
not spend time in giving many here. And this, too, because it
belongs not to this place to give them, as at present we are
treating only of the reasons for which this journey is called a
night, and of what kind it is, and how many parts it has. But, as it
seems that it would be incomplete, and less profitable than it
should be, if we gave no help or counsel here for walking in this
night of desires, I have thought well to set down briefly here the
way which is to be followed: and I shall do the same at the end of
each of the next two parts, or causes, of this night, whereof, with
the help of the Lord, I have to treat.
2. These counsels for the conquering of the desires, which now
follow, albeit brief and few, I believe to be as profitable and
efficacious as they are concise; so that one who sincerely desires
to practice them will need no others, but will find them all
included in these.
3. First, let him have an habitual desire to imitate Christ in
everything that he does, conforming himself to His life; upon which
life he must meditate so that he may know how to imitate it, and to
behave in all things as Christ would behave.
4. Secondly, in order that he may be able to do this well, every
pleasure that presents itself to the senses, if it be not purely for
the honour and glory of God, must be renounced and completely
rejected for the love of Jesus Christ, Who in this life had no other
pleasure, neither desired any, than to do the will of His Father,
which He called His meat and food. I take this example. If there
present itself to a man the pleasure of listening to things that
tend not to the service and honour of God, let him not desire that
pleasure, nor desire to listen to them; and if there present itself
the pleasure of looking at things that help him not Godward, let him
not desire the pleasure or look at these things; and if in
conversation or in aught else soever such pleasure present itself,
let him act likewise. And similarly with respect to all the senses,
in so far as he can fairly avoid the pleasure in question; if he
cannot, it suffices that, although these things may be present to
his senses, he desires not to have this pleasure. And in this wise
he will be able to mortify and void his senses of such pleasure, as
though they were in darkness. If he takes care to do this, he will
soon reap great profit.
5. For the mortifying and calming of the four natural passions,
which are joy, hope, fear and grief, from the concord and
pacification whereof come these and other blessings, the counsels
here following are of the greatest help, and of great merit, and the
source of great virtues.
6. Strive always to prefer, not that which is easiest, but that
which is most difficult;
Not that which is most delectable, but that which is most
unpleasing;
Not that which gives most pleasure, but rather that which gives
least;
Not that which is restful, but that which is wearisome;
Not that which is consolation, but rather that which is
disconsolateness;
Not that which is greatest, but that which is least;
Not that which is loftiest and most precious, but that which is
lowest and most despised;
Not that which is a desire for anything, but that which is a
desire for nothing;
Strive to go about seeking not the best of temporal things, but
the worst.
Strive thus to desire to enter into complete detachment and
emptiness and poverty, with respect to everything that is in the
world, for Christ's sake.
7. And it is meet that the soul embrace these acts with all its
heart and strive to subdue its will thereto. For, if it perform them
with its heart, it will very quickly come to find in them great
delight and consolation, and to act with order and discretion.
8. These things that have been said, if they be faithfully put
into practice, are quite sufficient for entrance into the night of
sense; but, for greater completeness, we shall describe another kind
of exercise which teaches us to mortify the concupiscence of the
flesh and the concupiscence of the eyes, and the pride of life,
which, says Saint John, are the things that reign in the world, from
which all the other desires proceed.
9. First, let the soul strive to work in its own despite, and
desire all to do so. Secondly, let it strive to speak in its own
despite and desire all to do so. Third, let it strive to think
humbly of itself, in its own despite, and desire all to do so.
10. To conclude these counsels and rules, it will be fitting to
set down here those lines which are written in the Ascent of the
Mount, which is the figure that is at the beginning of this book;
the which lines are instructions for ascending to it, and thus
reaching the summit of union. For, although it is true that that
which is there spoken of is spiritual and interior, there is
reference likewise to the spirit of imperfection according to
sensual and exterior things, as may be seen by the two roads which
are on either side of the path of perfection. It is in this way and
according to this sense that we shall understand them here; that is
to say, according to that which is sensual. Afterwards, in the
second part of this night, they will be understood according to that
which is spiritual.
11. The lines are these:
In order to arrive at having pleasure in
everything,
Desire to have pleasure in nothing.
In order to arrive at possessing everything,
Desire to possess nothing.
In order to arrive at being everything,
Desire to be nothing.
In order to arrive at knowing everything,
Desire to know nothing.
In order to arrive at that wherein thou hast no
pleasure,
Thou must go by a way wherein thou hast no pleasure.
In order to arrive at that which thou knowest
not,
Thou must go by a way that thou knowest not.
In order to arrive at that which thou possessest
not,
Thou must go by a way that thou possessest not.
In order to arrive at that which thou art not,
Thou must go through that which thou art not.
12. When thy mind dwells upon anything,
Thou art ceasing to cast thyself upon the All.
For, in order to pass from the all to the All,
Thou hast to deny thyself wholly in all.
And, when thou comest to possess it wholly,
Thou must possess it without desiring anything.
For, if thou wilt have anything in having all,
Thou hast not thy treasure purely in God.
13. In this detachment the spiritual soul finds its quiet and
repose; for, since it covets nothing, nothing wearies it when it is
lifted up, and nothing oppresses it when it is cast down, because it
is in the centre of its humility; but when it covets anything, at
that very moment it becomes wearied.
CHAPTER XIV
Wherein is expounded the second line of the
stanza.
Kindled in love with yearnings.
NOW that we have expounded the first line of this stanza, which
treats of the night of sense, explaining what this night of sense
is, and why it is called night; and now that we have likewise
described the order and manner which are to be followed for a soul
to enter therein actively, the next thing to be treated in due
sequence is its properties and effects, which are wonderful, and are
described in the next lines of the stanza aforementioned, upon which
I will briefly touch for the sake of expounding the said lines, as I
promised in the Prologue; and I will then pass on at once to the
second book, treating of the other part of this night, which is the
spiritual.
2. The soul, then, says that, 'kindled in love with yearnings,'
it passed through this dark night of sense and came out thence to
the union of the Beloved. For, in order to conquer all the desires
and to deny itself the pleasures which it has in everything, and for
which its love and affection are wont to enkindle the will that it
may enjoy them, it would need to experience another and a greater
enkindling by an other and a better love, which is that of its
Spouse; to the end that, having its pleasure set upon Him and
deriving from Him its strength, it should have courage and constancy
to deny itself all other things with ease. And, in order to conquer
the strength of the desires of sense, it would need, not only to
have love for its Spouse, but also to be enkindled by love and to
have yearnings. For it comes to pass, and so it is, that with such
yearnings of desire the sensual nature is moved and attracted toward
sensual things, so that, if the spiritual part be not enkindled with
other and greater yearnings for that which is spiritual, it will be
unable to throw off the yoke of nature or to enter this night of
sense, neither will it have courage to remain in darkness as to all
things, depriving itself of desire for them all.
3. And the nature and all the varieties of these yearnings of
love which souls experience in the early stages of this road to
union; and the diligent means and contrivances which they employ in
order to leave their house, which is self-will, during the night of
the mortification of their senses; and how easy, and even sweet and
delectable, these yearnings for the Spouse make all the trials and
perils of this night to appear to them, this is not the place to
describe, neither is such description possible; for it is better to
know and meditate upon these things than to write of them. And so we
shall pass on to expound the remaining lines in the next chapter.
CHAPTER XV
Wherein are expounded the remaining lines of the
aforementioned stanza.
. . . oh, happy chance! --
I went forth without being observed, My
house being now at rest.
THESE lines take as a metaphor the miserable estate of captivity,
a man's deliverance from which, when none of the gaolers' hinder his
release, he considers a 'happy chance.' For the soul, on account of
original sin, is truly as it were a captive in this mortal body,
subject to the passions and desires of nature, from bondage and
subjection to which it considers its having gone forth without being
observed as a 'happy chance' -- having gone forth, that is, without
being impeded or engulfed by any of them.
2. For to this end the soul profited by going forth upon a 'dark
night' -- that is, in the privation of all pleasures and
mortification of all desires, after the manner whereof we have
spoken. And by its 'house being now at rest' is meant the sensual
part, which is the house of all the desires, and is now at rest
because they have all been overcome and lulled to sleep. For until
the desires are lulled to sleep through the mortification of the
sensual nature, and until at last the sensual nature itself is at
rest from them, so that they make not war upon the spirit, the soul
goes not forth to true liberty and to the fruition of union with its
Beloved.
END OF THE FIRST BOOK