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CHRISTIAN SPIRITUALITY
CHRISTIAN SPIRITUALITY
IN THE MIDDLE AGES
By the REV. P. POURRAT
Superieur du Grand Siminaire de Lyon Translated by S. P. J4CQUES
LONDON
BURNS OATES AND WASHBOURNE LTD.
M C M XX I V
NIHIL OBSTAT:
F. INNOCENTIUS APAP, O.P. Censor Deputatus.
IMPRIMATUR:
EDM. CAN. SURMONT,
Vicarius Gcneralis.
Westmonastbrii,
die i4« Augusti , 1924.
'(library I
Jt„. JAN 1 7 1950
Made and Frinted in Great Br
PREFACE
THE Middle Ages, both ascetic and mystical, lie before us like a vast forest, full of life but exceed- ingly dense. It is, therefore, of first importance to cut out a path which will enable us to pass through without too great labour and will serve as a landmark in exploring its depths. It is this which I have endeavoured to achieve.
The spirituality of the Middle Ages is to be found in the great religious families, which form so many schools — not to be confused with the theological schools — in which asceticism and mysticism became developed in accordance with the spirit proper to each foundation. Four religious Orders above all — I say above all, because I do not disregard the merits of the others — have left their mark strongly impressed on spiritu- ality : the Benedictine Order, the Canons Regular of St Augustine, the Franciscans and the Dominicans. The spirituality in each one of these, whilst being fundamentally and substantially the same, nevertheless differs in the point of view from which it is regarded and in the way in which it is taught. These great Orders thus form schools, clearly distinct and characteristic, each one having its particular conception of spiritual science.
Now, these schools of the Middle Ages shared with one another a threefold conception of this science : practical and affective spirituality, which touches the heart rather than the reason; speculative spirituality, which builds up theories and concerns itself less with practice ; finally, a spirituality at the same time speculative and affective, which includes both sentiment and reason. The influence of Platonism, found principally in the writings of Dionysius the Areopagite, and that of Aristotelianism with which St Thomas Aquinas was imbued in his theology, contributed to the formation of these different conceptions of spirituality.
At the beginning of the Middle Ages the Benedictine school reigned supreme. It received from St Bernard an incom- parable brilliancy which irradiated all the other schools. It was characterized by marked, almost exclusive preference for affective and practical piety. The Abbot of Clairvaux disdained theories, and the result of his action on his school was such that it passed through the Middle Ages without feeling the influence of scholastic theology or of the works of Dionysius the Areopagite. It produced flowers of exquisite piety, such as the wonderful St Gertrude, the fragrance of
vi CbrlBtian Spirituality
whose writings has imbued so many souls with the love of Chr:
But the intellect claims its rights in spirituality as in other branches of ecclesiastical science. Thus in the twelfth cen- ■pposed to the school of St Bernard, the Abbey of ,1-gular of St Victor of Paris inaugurated specu- lative mysticism, at first timidly and almost with regret. In order to discover spiritual truth and contemplate it, we must use intuition. The symbolism of Plato, so ably employed by St Augustine and Dionysius the Areopagite, must be the foundation of this spirituality. Thus a teaching, both affec- nd speculative, would be drawn up which should satisfy the heart as well as the mind. With ideas such as these, Hugh and Richard of St Victor constructed a wonderful theory of contemplation, which has since inspired all mystical writers.
It may be said that the Dominican school is identified with the speculative spirituality of the Middle Ages. It had the matchless glory of producing St Thomas Aquinas, who handled the Aristotelian dialectics with such skill. The example of this most famous master was everywhere fol- !, first of all by the Dominican Order itself. The scholastic theories served to explain asceticism and to render mystical facts understood. This systematization of spiritu- ality was even occasionally pushed rather far, above all by the German mystics of the fourteenth century ; so far, indeed, that it fell somewhat into disfavour.
In its beginning, the Franciscan family resisted the move- ment which involved piety in speculation. St. Francis of Assisi had little love for theoretical science. But his Order found it impossible to oppose the general trend towards scholastic studies. St Bonaventure, inspired by the method of the school of St Victor, ended by uniting the speculation of the mind with the motions of the heart. He transformed scholastic theology into affective knowledge, and so estab- lished the distinctive note of Franciscan spirituality.
Ne\ wards the end of the fourteenth century,
speculative spirituality ended by becoming worn out, and, as a reaction, an empirical spiritual teaching became the vogue, ■ <1 to its practice and propounded in the form of sen- one from the other. This mystical move- ment first saw Light in the Low Countries; it is the New Devotion of the Brethren of the Common Life. It produced an extraordinary enthusiasm for the Imitation of Christ, the
•imple and pra< til al nature of which responded so well to the
aspirations of Flemish Ufa. Jean Gerson and the Carthu- sians, who disregarded scholastic- theories rather less than
reators of the New Devotion, gave the preference, however, to aff« ty.
preface vii
Other causes, apart from those which sprang from philo- sophical movements, also influenced mysticism in the Middle Ages.
The centuries which are comprised in this period are remarkable for their faith and for their religious life. But there was also much that was distressing. Heresies spread by stealth. The morals of the clergy left much to be desired. The shepherds of the Church did not always possess that dis- interestedness which the sacredness of their office demanded. Relaxation had found its way into many monasteries. Finally, the consciences of men were deeply troubled by the Great Schism of the West. The ecclesiastical hierarchy, itself over- taken by these evils, seemed incapable of bringing about the much needed reforms, either within itself or in those around it. God, in order to aid it, raised up a kind of extra-hierarchical prophetic mysticism, resembling the ancient prophetical order, if such a comparison may be permitted. St Hildegarde in the twelfth century, St Bridget and St Catherine of Siena at the beginning of the Great Schism, exerted this mystical prophecy and feared not to reprimand priests, bishops and even Popes.
A complete history of the religious Orders of the Middle Ages must not be looked for here. At this period they were spread far and wide ; here, therefore, I cannot do them justice ; I am restricted to speaking of those religious families which have exerted an influence on spiritual doctrine.
I have devoted greater space to the references in this second volume than in the first. Students of the patristic period, in fact, find in Migne's Greek and Latin Patrologies a sufficiently complete collection of texts with which most are satisfied. Bibliographical references are consequently simplified. It is not the same with the Middle Ages. Works of this period have not been thus brought together ; they must needs be sought out, and occasionally, in the case of some which have not been republished, the finding of them is not an easy task. I thus feel myself under the obligation of pointing out, at least in the case of writers of some import- ance, the best editions of their works. I have also indicated French translations when they exist, in order to put the reader in touch with the original writings, which nothing can really supersede. With regard to those specialists who require a complete list of works which have been written on the ascetic and mystical writers of the Middle Ages, I would refer them to the Repertoire des sources historiques du moyen &ge, by M. U. Chevalier.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Preface ------- v
CHAPTER I
THE BENEDICTINE SCHOOL AND AFFEC- TIVE PIETY IN THE MIDDLE AGES Introductory 1
I. — The Origin of Medieval Benedictinism — Cluny - 3 II. — The Cistercian Order : Its Strict Interpretation
of the Rule of St Benedict - - 6
III. — St Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux — His Ideas on
Monastic Life 8
IV. — Other Centres of the Benedictine School — The
Abbey of Bee — St. Anselm - - - 12
CHAPTER II
THE SPIRITUAL TEACHING OF ST BERNARD
Introductory - - - - - 19
, I.— Christian Perfection — The Role of Humility - 22
II. — St Bernard on the Love of God - - 30
III. — The Means of Sanctification — Perfection through Prayer, Examination of Conscience,
Discretion and Spiritual Direction - - 34
IV. — St Bernard's Devotion to the Mysteries of the
Life of Christ - - - - 38
V. — St. Bernard's Devotion to the Blessed Virgin - 51
VI. — St Bernard's Devotion to the Guardian Angels - 60
VII. — St Bernard and St Joseph - - 62
VIII.— St Bernard's Mystical Theology - - 63
IX. — The Priesthood : Qualities it Calls For - - 75
CHAPTER III
THE BENEDICTINE SCHOOL AFTER
ST BERNARD
Introductory - - - - - - 79
I. — Joachim of Flora - - - "79
ix
Cbristian Spirituality
II. — Benedictine Mysticism in Germany: St Hilde- garde, St Elizabeth of Schoenau, St Gertrude the Great, St Mechtilde of Hackborn and St Mechtilde of Magdeburg -
III.—The Cistercian Monastery of Alvastra (St Bridget) - -
IV. — Blosius, Benedictine Abbot of Liessies -
CHAPTER IV
SPECULATIVE SPIRITUALITY AND PLATONISM OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY
Introductory - - - - - - ioo
I. — Different Conceptions of Knowledge in the
Middle Ages - - - - - ioo
II. — The Abbey of St Victor in Paris — The Different Representatives of its School — Its Platonic Idealism - 104
III. — The Mystical Theology of the School of St Victor — The Symbolistic Conception of the World — Mystical Intuition — Contemplation and Ecstasy - - - - - 108
1. The Symbolistic Conception of the
Universe - 109
2. Intuitive Meditation - - - 117
3. Mystical Contemplation and Ecstasy
according to the School of St Victor 120 IV. — Heterodox Mysticism of the Twelfth Century - 129
CHAPTER V
SPECULATIVE SPIRITUALITY AND ARISTOTELIANISM
hing of St Thomas Aquinas - 133
CHAPTER VI
ST FRANCIS OF ASSISI AND THE FRANCISCAN SCHOOL
- 152 I.— St Francis of Assisi — His Love of Poverty — Conception of the Friar Minor — His otiOfl to tf)fl Passion o! Christ — His
■ c ol Nature ... 153
Contents *i
PAGE
II. — Franciscan Writers of the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries — The Biographers of St Francis and St Bonaventure - - 173
III. — Meditations on the Life of Christ of the Pseudo- Bonaventure — The Franciscan Preachers of the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries - 184
IV. — Bl. Angela of Foligno and St Catherine of
Bologna - - - - 191
CHAPTER VII
ST DOMINIC AND THE DOMINICAN SCHOOL
I. — The Work of St Dominic - 196
II. — Dominican Preaching : St Vincent Ferrer, Jerome Savonarola — Hagiography : Vincent of Beauvais and James de Voragine - - 200
III. — Dominican Mysticism in Italy : Fra Angelico of
Fiesole, St Catherine of Siena - - 202
IV. — The German Mystics of the Dominican Order : Albert the Great in the Thirteenth Century; John Tauler, Henry Suso in the Fourteenth - 210
CHAPTER VIII
THE TEACHING OF THE GERMAN MYSTICS
OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY
Introductory ------ 224
I. — The Renunciation of Self - 229
II. — The German Theory of the Nakedness of the
Intelligence - - - - ~234
III. — Mystical Union according to the German
Writers ----- 239
1. Union in the Essence of the Soul - 242
2. Union without Mediation - - 243
3. Union without Difference - - 245
CHAPTER IX
PRACTICAL MYSTICISM AT THE END OF
THE FOURTEENTH AND IN THE FIFTEENTH
CENTURIES IN THE LOW COUNTRIES
Introductory ------ 252
I. — The "Brethren of the Common Life" and the
Canons Regular of Windesheim - - 253
xii Cbristfan Spirituality
MOH
IJ. — Thomas A Kempis ... - 257
IIlX-The Problem as to the Origin of the " Imitation
of Christ " - - - -262
CHAPTER X
THE REACTION FROM EXCESSIVE SPECULA- TION AND FALSE MYSTICISM IN FRANCE AT THE BEGINNING OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY
Introductory ------ 265
I.— Pierre d'Ailly - - - - - 265
II. — Jean Gerson — His Struggles against False
Mysticism — His Mystical Theology - - 268
III. — Nicholas of Cusa and Learned Ignorance - 284
CHAPTER XI
THE ENGLISH MYSTICS— PRACTICAL
MYSTICISM IN ITALY IN THE FIFTEENTH
CENTURY
St Frances of Rome, St Lawrence Justinian and
St Catherine of Genoa - 285
CHAPTER XII
THE TEACHING OF THE " IMITATION OF
CHRIST" AND THE ANONYMOUS SPIRITUAL
WRITERS OF THE MIDDLE AGES
Introductory ------ 291
I. — Knowledge of Self - 295
II — The Knowledge of God and Christ - - 302
III.— Mystical Union according to the Anonymous
Writers of the Middle Ages - - - 307
CHAPTER XIII
THE CARTHUSIAN SCHOOL AND ITS SPREAD IN GERMANY FROM THE FOURTEENTH
TO THE SIXTEENTH CENTURIES Introductory ------ ^oo
I.— The Origin of the Carthusian School in the
Eleventh Century - - - - 310
II — Spread of the Carthusian School from the
rtotftth to the Sixteenth Centuries - 311
Contents xiii
PAGE
CHAPTER XIV
THE DEVOTIONS OF THE MIDDLE AGES
I. — Devotion to the Passion of Christ and to the
Sorrows of his Mother - - - 319
II. — Devotion to the Blessed Sacrament - - 322
III. — Devotion to the Blessed Virgin - 328
IV. — The Cultus of St Joseph and the Saints - - 331
Conclusion ------ 334
Index 337
CHAPTER I
THE BENEDICTINE SCHOOL AND
AFFECTIVE PIETY IN THE
MIDDLE AGES
ORIGIN OF THIS SCHOOL : CLUNY, CITEAUX AND CLAIRVAUX — ST BERNARD— THE ABBEY OF BEC AND ST ANSELM.
THE school of spirituality which we meet with in history on the threshold of the Middle Ages is that of the Benedictines. It is characterized first of all by its affective and practical piety. Benedictine writers are the exponents of affective spirituality, the importance of which, in the Middle Ages, was at least as great as that of specula- tive spirituality. They resolutely discarded high theories, subtle arguments and lofty abstractions, in order to adhere to that which speaks to the heart and unites with God. They were affected neither by the influence of scholastic theology nor by the writings of Dionysius the Areopagite. Their ascetic and mystical reflections had for their immediate object the cultivation of the love of God and not discussion of the nature of that love ; they led to mystical union without seek- ing to explain it. A comparison of the Sermons of St Ber- nard or the Exercises of St Gertrude (1303) with the Sermons of the Dominican Tauler (1361) shows the extent to which Benedictine writers differ from those of the speculative school. Benedictine piety, we may well think, drew its nourishment from the celebration of the Divine Office. In the monasteries of St Benedict the singing of the Office almost completely
(absorbed the religious life of the monk. During the chanting of the sacred words, the soul became united to God and con- templated the object of the feast that was being kept. Almost every word of the Office, or of the Mass, provided St Ger- trude with an occasion for mystical uplifting. Her Exercises are a wonderful paraphrase of the ceremonies of baptism, of the prayers for the Consecration of Virgins from the Roman Pontifical, of the verses of the hymns. All for her expressed divine love. Benedictine piety was thus built on the liturgy. It therefore remained practical. In what way would philo- sophical speculations have been of use to it? This liturgical spirituality focussed the Benedictine soul 11. I
2 Cbrfstfan Spirituality
ii on the mysteries of the earthly life of the e different feasts of the year at the beginning of had for their object the principal events in ist bis Nativity, his Passion, his Resurrection and Asct 1 be Sermons of St Bernard for the liturgical
., : :. .,,.< i i- « Var to us. The custom of meditating on the Htnrs (»i the (iospel in which the drama of our redemption ight about that devotion to the humanity one of the most remarkable characteristics of Benedictine spirituality. Here, as we shall see, the weighty influence of the Abbot of Clairvaux was felt. It is he who ligious to be moved to pity at the crib of the • and to mourn at the cross. St. Francis of bo mi made the world to weep over the passion of - beholden to him. This devotion to the humanity •f Jesus afterwards descended to particulars and was directed to certain parts of this humanity. In the monastery of Bene- al Helfta, in Saxony, St Gertrude and her com- pany ■ special devotion to the Five Wounds of Christ i wound in the side was a door which enabled l into the heart of the Saviour. Towards the •ml oi the thirteenth century, St Gertrude introduced the Heart of Jesus.1
'■•lares that "the spirit of liberty" was
dve of the Benedictine ascetics of the
St Gertrude is, according to him, a " beautiful
I liis liberty of spirit was not, in the opinion of
r, due to negligence, nor to indolence nor
It must be understood as opposed to " prescribed
ribed with "spiritual regulations."
that in Benedictine monasteries no other
ouiexere: r was laid down than the Office. In this way
ifeted iu the sense that, at times other than
it devoted to the canonical hours, the soul was raised to
UOd freely and without restraint. But at that period this
«» the Benedictines. Regulated spiritual
• varied I and reduced to method, date from the
MfM p of modern times; from that epoch when religious,
""»*"<? with the ideals of St Ignatius Loyola, went out
m order to carry on their apostolate in the
■".;' I:" 'Ll"'" »' ""■ nlii-inus liiv rendered necessary » spontaneous and mrvr,. »r,in — i _:..... t^- , . .,
more ordered piety. Did not the
?° ' "r lif(' (jf those who were no longer
• walls of the convent demand that rules
■""y §l *e place of those of the cloister?
r^J^^J^^Tl^ ' <lls,i"1 tive n°te of Cistercian
writings of St Gertrude |fSi "S,T»e ^nerallv dedicated to the
* All lor /esus.
i
Ube JSeneMcttne School in tbe flDi&Me Hoes 3
I— THE ORIGIN OF MEDIEVAL BENEDICTINISM—
CLUNY
This origin must be sought in the federation of Benedictine monasteries which took place after the tenth century. Instead of remaining, as before, totally independent, the Benedictines became grouped, at the beginning of the Middle Ages, into congregations or monastic Orders. The two most important congregations were those of Cluny and of Citeaux.
The houses of which they were composed were attached to the mother abbey, either by the bond of foundation, or that of reform, or else occasionally, as among the Cluniacs, by that of authority. A common spirit always reigned in all the monasteries of the same congregation, which spirit was fostered by the traditions left by the founder and maintained by exclusiveness as regards what was done in other congre- gations, almost as much as by the discipline of those in authority. Occasionally, also, there was the very just desire, which again tended to strengthen the family spirit, to avoid certain abuses which were known to exist elsewhere, to live more perfectly up to the Rule of St Benedict, and to lead a stricter and more austere life. It was due to motives of this kind that there arose that most regrettable dispute between Peter the Venerable, ninth abbot of Cluny, who defended the customs of his Order, and St Bernard, who censured the magnificence of the Cluniacs.
Each monastic congregation, then, had its own concep- tion of the life of the cloister, and consequently of that asceticism which is the basis of it. Each thus became a school of spirituality with its own particular spirit, its own type, which characterized it and distinguished it from all others.
The congregation of Cluny did not produce any note- worthy spiritual writer. It exercised, however, an enormous influence on the restoration of monastic life in Europe.
Towards the end of the tenth century, the system of lay abbots had almost completely destroyed the reformation of Benedictine monasteries brought about by St Benedict of Aniane in 817. These abbots, wholly lacking in the religious spirit, were only interested in their monasteries from the point of view of despoiling them of their possessions. The monks were for the most part left to themselves, without government or supervision. Thence all sorts of abuses crept in, which were further aggravated by the uncivilized standard of morality which marked this sad period.
In 910, William the Good, Count of Gothland and Duke of Aquitaine, founded the Abbey of Cluny, at the head of which
4 Christian Spirituality
was placed the Abbot Berno (927). A succession of abbots,1
remarkable t> holiness and their love of discipline,
iul placed it at the head of a reform
\. A great number of monasteries — of
. in the twelfth century, two thousand2 —
to the Abbey of Cluny, or were founded
ind formed a powerful congregation of fervent
:ion, in order to protect itself from the £reed of lay abbots, found no better means than that of mption from episcopal control in order to ibjeet to Rome.3 The support of the Holy ; enough to free itself from the domina- tion mil It always showed itself grateful for the n win. h it received from the Popes, by helping them, VII,4 in their efforts to reform the clergy. (1 Rome.
At this epoch the internal organization of monasteries
became modified. The monks, instead of being almost all
en as heretofore, became henceforth about equally
ten known as lay brothers, and priests
rhifl change in the character of the monas-
> became general at the beginning of the Middle Ages,
red the monastic orders.
maintaining the same spirit in all the
the congregation, and to insure a good
^^ Ota, the Cluniacs were induced to strengthen
the Abbot-general as much as possible. In
Cluny wielded a direct and personal
*utl ' a,l h»s houses. These were to be found in
J"**1 rN "' l'-urope. This system, excellent as
negation was limited, afterwards t*C*me a hl to its well-being, for as soon as the
JJrSTt'SrilLSiS*' Mayeul ("^> St °dil° (IQ48)> who,
7Jn*!,?£ ^?-a U aaugurated by St Isidore of Seville
6™Lf7. ' , ,"11 t,,e commemoration of All Souls on
° ^"""ciuuiauon 01 All bouls on
'•:, ;' ■-" l;";; • /i his custom afterwards spread
xiiT/l ! / v .V, e t0 be found in Migne,
IX. 67. Dom MarrW
Hugh (not)), who built the tamuub •ICIaa¥fc*E&l!.. -lu Vc/nerable ("56), the most celebrated Abbot
and deeds are to be found in Migne,
It aS^H^J^f. ?¥»«" ' Idle Ages. " The whole world
Damian, Efist. vi, ,5 (P.L., CXLIV, t<t*«iur thr » ,m , perioa, men became monks in order to
ea4 f iffi^r?! I*™ >alvat",tl ;""1 to seek, by this renunciation P*«rtfre» ffei\»«^ ntoUu.ont and mystical joys. A desire to be •**•• lor •aitriof tha 1* ° dal lords was also occasionally a
• Ortaorr VlThadWn^' lil?' l' ef>' xxviii Lp-L» CLXXXIX, 115). "^7 vu bad bten formerly a monk and Prior of Cluny,
ZFbe JBcncMctinc Scbool in tbc ZllMfcMe Uqcs 5
houses of the congregation were multiplied, it was not pos- sible for the Abbot of Cluny to supervise them all properly.
Abbot Berno, the founder of Cluny, composed no special Rule, but obliged his monks to follow as strictly as possible that of St Benedict. His disciple and successor, St Odo, also adhered to the scrupulous observance of the Benedictine Rule. But when the Cluniac congregation grew, circum- stances forced the abbots to modify certain points in the discipline. Thus arose the Customs of the Monastery of Cluny (Consuetudines Cluniacensis monasterii).
These modifications consisted in certain mitigations as regards the clothing and food of the monks, rendered neces- sary by the rigour of climate. The Cluniacs, contrary to the Rule of St Benedict, relinquished manual work in order to give themselves more to study;1 their rich dowries provided for their maintenance and allowed them to devote themselves to intellectual work. In this they but imitated St Maurus (584), the disciple of St Benedict, in whose monastery scarcely any manual labour was performed.
Finally, feeling themselves authorized by what is laid down in the Rule respecting the celebration of the Divine Office, they surrounded with magnificence all that affected worship. They built beautiful churches, real masterpieces of Romanesque architecture, superbly decorated. The sacred ornaments which were used by them in the liturgical services were extremely rich. The furniture of their churches was luxurious. They felt that they could not better employ their abundant resources than by using them for the adornment of Christian churches, even at the risk of scandalizing the monks belonging to other congregations where the Rule of St Bene- dict was strictly interpreted.2
At Cluny, therefore, the desire was to follow the spirit rather than the letter of the Benedictine Rule. Among Rules, said Peter the Venerable,3 there are some which cannot be changed — the divine rules — and there are others which may vary according to time and place. Among the latter are monastic rules.
This most wise principle nevertheless needs careful applica- tion, especially as Cluny was subjected to the trial, always fraught with danger, of a superabundance of possessions. Under the plea of legitimate modifications of the Rule, certain abuses were introduced, which did not fail to enhance the Cistercians — whose austere regime was a kind of protest against the Cluniac interpretation of Benedictine discipline. On the Third Sunday in Lent, 1132, Peter the Venerable
1 Cf. Peter the Venerable, Efist., lib. I, ef. xxviii (Migne, col. 120-
13°)-
2 St Bernard severely criticized the magnificence of the Cluniac churches. 3 Efist., lib. Ill, ef. xxviii (col. 148).
6 Christian Spirituality
,../•.,•■ • ,■ chiel representatives of his congregation
rder to bring about a reform.1 The outcome of this
assembly was the Statuta Congregationis cluniacensis ,2
drawn up ; the Venerable. These statutes give exact
ssion to the way the life of a Benedictine monk was
n\ at Clunv.
II THE CISTERCIAN ORDER: ITS STRICT INTER- i.TATION OF THE RULE OF ST BENEDICT3
Ctteaux, like that of Cluny, owes its origin to an endeavour to restore the spirit of the Benedictine Rule. , 51 Robert, Abbot of Molesmes, in the diocese angres, sought in vain, among the convents of Cham- pagne and Burgundy, that monastic perfection for which he ned. He began to put his dream of reform into opera- tion at Molesmes, when a revolt of the monks, obdurate in ed him to leave. He withdrew with the brethren of Molesmes to Ctteaux, Cistercium, kilometres from Beaune, in Burgundy, where March 21, 1098. It Robert was obliged by the Archbishop of Lyons, Legate to return to Molesmes. Alberic,4 his suc-
. continued his traditions. The first regula-
respecting food and clothing were drawn up. In order
' his monks from all other religious of the
family, whose life was less austere, Alberic gave
tm a white habit. There were thus from this time the
«t ordinary Benedictines, and the white
*T grey monk . or Cistercians.
JzJ?m!!t*ttv' ,iUTal and so strict was their in-
XfaEL? ~e,°f St Benedict' that the Cistercians
■r. This interpretation is found in
« or customs of Citeaux. They were in
' ,, ' •'" ' *e third abbot, St Stephen Harding.-
•■"••'< -tertians was as simple as possible:
7£L^^l u ; owl or ,1owin^ cloak °f wool, with
*ves and hood; hose protected the legs and sandals ri* uektiatHca, lib. XIII, cap. iv (/>./,.,
■•J' 22*.. uh at V: ' i (IA^?IX' *<»£<**>
'•-VApTu^Voi lUjL RSb1r[' Abbot °t Molesmes {Acta *l* ltl',1 , " %?'); GuiRnard, Les monuments
-;-• I »»)..„ 18785 Exordium Magnum
1 «)')S-mc)8); Malinger, Iter
Stephen Harding, third
iordtum coenobii et ordinis
!,?' "" Usui <™txquiores ordinis cisterciensis
, *A / • January 20).
»7. JeUiiSi, a friUt.
TTfoe Benefcfcttae Scbool in tbe /HMfcMe Hges 7
the feet. The Cistereians slept fully dressed on a straw mattress placed on a plank and covered with a blanket ; the pillow was also of straw. Their food consisted entirely of dried or green vegetables, seasoned with oil and salt. The fasts were strictly the same as those laid down by St Bene- dict. Wine, which was allowed in very small quantity by the Benedictine Rule, was forbidden at Citeaux. Baths, as pre- scribed by the same Rule, were only granted to those that were sick. Manual labour was again given the place of honour.1
The spirit of poverty in the appearance and fittings of the monastery was very pronounced ; unlike the Cluniacs, there were no monuments nor architectural ornaments. The chapel was furnished with the greatest simplicity, with a cross of wood and the candlesticks and candelabra of iron. The sacred vestments and ornaments were to be neither of silk nor embroidered with gold.
The reaction against the customs of Cluny extended to the Cistercian system of government. The Abbot of Citeaux did not, like him of Cluny, rule over all the convents of his con- gregation. The abbot of each monastery concerned himself with the houses that he had founded, as if they were his daughters. A simple bond of fraternal charity united him with the others.
Citeaux did not, like Cluny, petition for exemption from episcopal authority ; each of the abbeys was subject to the ordinary of the place in which it was situated.2
The beginnings of the Cistercian Order were hard. Their austerity was fearful. But when St Bernard and his com- panions had entered in 1112, four new foundations were very quickly made — La Ferte in 11 13, Pontigny in 11 14, Clairvaux and Morimond in n 15. The holiness and reputation of St Bernard spread such a lustre on the nascent order, that at the end of the twelfth century it possessed more than five hundred houses.
The Cistercian family has produced a certain number of spiritual writers. The most noteworthy is, undoubtedly, St Bernard, Abbot of Clairvaux. It is he who rendered his Order a school of mysticism, the influence of which was felt throughout the Middle Ages. It is necessary here, on account of the place which he occupies in the history of spirituality, to say something about his life and his ideas of the religious life, reserving until later the account of his spirituality. We shall thus better understand tr^e Cistercian Order, of which St Bernard may be considered the second founder.
1 All this will be found in the Consuetudines.
2 See, for an account of this, the Carta charitatis of St Stephen Harding.
s Cbristian Spirituality
III-ST BERNARD, ABBOT OF CLAIRVAUX— HIS
IDEAS ON MONASTIC LIFE1 St Bernard was born at Fontaines-lez-Dijon in 1090; his parents belonged to an eminent family. It was noticed that evtn in < hildhood he evinced a special devotion to the Nativity -»ur, concerning which he was to speak so ind also a tenderly filial love for the blessed »se faithful servant he was to be. the age 0! twenty, his brilliant gifts brought him to the notice of the world. Frivolous friendships and com- pany vnded to ensnare his virtue. Fearful of the danger which human wickedness and his own inexperience made him run, the young man, inspired with the holy desire of avoid i' Deceived the project of leaving all in order to become a monk. He entered Citeaux about 11 12, with thirty-two companions, whom he had persuaded to join him in t! tic life. Among them were several of his own > rs.* During his year of probation, the young novice constantly asked himself this question : " Bernard, Bernard, why hast thou come here?" {Bemarde, Bernarde, ad quid venisti?)* The mtwer which he gave himself in the secrecy of his soul, he expressed later on at Clairvaux, to the numerous novices who came to submit themselves to his direction. " On enter- ing here," he said to them, " you must leave outside that hody which you bring from the world ; the spirit only enters here, than Itt for the body."4
Bernard indeed laboured to strip himself of the lusts of the flesh by most severe and constant mortification. The rigours Rule satisfied his desire for austerity. He declared later, not without exaggeration, that he was so carnal n and that he suffered so great a languid- ntntof n I somewhat strong measure of renunciation
■nd suffering was -v.5
To the m ma laid down by the Rule, St. Bernard
>*! source*: Vita Bemardi, especially the Vita prima {P.L.,
" - ■ ■'■'■' • ' tcuuda 4^9-534] See also the criticism of these
"g* "■ »• v" '*' s' Bernard, abbi de Clairvaux, by E.
•*•**• «?97i Introduction; Acta Sanctorum, August 20,
■r more or less loqonrlary Vitae Bernardi in
(P.L., CLXXXII, 67-662);
;!.
f**. hb. l.cap. • ■" Ubtbl Btrmsrdi, Bernardt.
Hoc settifer in corde, semper etiam ,~'di, ad quid venisti? Among the [• of St Bernard there is an instruction to novices venistit (P.L., CLXXXIV, 1189- ' -''"/'WCW.Bb, I, Cap. xxv, 1
* *t**W. cap. iv, 7.
ZTbe 3Bene&fctfne Scbool in the /IlMfcfcle Hges 9
added the strict custody of the senses, which act as such feeders of the passions. He carried custody of the eyes to the extent of never raising them to the ceiling- of his cell, nor of fixing them on the windows of the chapel in order to find out their number. All the activity of his soul was directed inward, absorbed in God and in the contemplation of divine things.1 He mortified his palate with special harshness, and his biographers tell us that it was a matter of distress for him to go to table : sic accedit ad sumendum cibum quasi ad tormentum.2
St Bernard's piety was not less than his austerity. It was chiefly nourished by the study of holy Scripture and the singing of the Psalms. The young novice made the sacred books so much his own that his mind was moulded by them. He afterwards made use of the very expressions of Scripture, above all of the Psalms, for the development of his ideas in his sermons and writings. If he knew the Psalms so well it was because, as he said, he had " ruminated " on them by dint of singing them.3
From his noviceship onwards we find in St Bernard this union of unsparing austerity with spiritual sweetness of contemplation and union with God.4 Gifted with an exquisite sensitiveness, wholly directed and wrapped up in God, he already tasted the charms of divine love, of that love that he was to proclaim so well later on. The Cistercian Order, the most severe that then existed, was to become, in the follow- ing of St Bernard, a school of mysticism in which the sweet- ness of extraordinary and supernatural union of the soul with God was to be experienced. The body, indeed, must suffer pain, but the soul from time to time was to enjoy a foretaste of celestial happiness.
In 1 1 15, Bernard became Abbot of Clairvaux, situated in the diocese of Langres. Austere towards himself, he was inclined, at least in the beginning, to be so also towards others.
First of all, he would not hear of hesitation in leaving the world to come to the cloister at the call of God. In order to force from their families hesitating youths, who in those times would have been lost, he was able to find words even harder than the castigations addressed formerly by St Jerome to Heliodorus.5
1 l' it a -prima, lib. I, cap. iv, 20. 2 ibid., 22.
8 Cf. Vita prima, lib. I, cap. iv, 24; In festo SS Petri et Pauli, sermo II, 2. * Vita prima, id.-, 23, 24.
5 St Bernard here quotes the letter of St Jerome to Heliodorus, with a variation which is not in the ordinary text : Per calcatum transi patrem, per calcatam ferge matrem. . . . (Bernardi epist., cccxxii, 2). Cf. De conversione, ad clericos, cap. xxi, yi : Fngite de medio Baby- Ionise convolate ad urbes refugii.
,o Christian Spirituality
(Vt of thy mother," he wrote to one
yet been able to crush that which
to despise. And what must I answer
on thy mother? but that seems inhuman.
? It is not to her own advantage to be
loss of her son. To serve both Christ and
same time? But no one can serve two
Ires a thing contrary to thy salva-
lently to her own. Choose one of two
I boa must cither fall in with thy mother's wishes
to h.r salvation and thine own. If thou really
Mother, leave her; it is to her interest; and do not,
by abandoning- Christ in order to remain with her, run the
making- her perish eternally because of thee. More-
to this faithful saying and worthy of all accepta-
| i Tim. i, 15) : if it be an impiety to despise one's mother,
less a great piety to despise her for Christ. For
be who said honour thy father and thy mother, has himself
he that loveth father or mother more than me is
not vorthy of vie" (Matt, x, 37). 1
far from the gentle and tender strength of St
iles; St Bernard has as yet the harshness of the
fathers of the desert. Moreover, the manners of the twelfth
(1 that deference and consideration which we
■re now a. ■ ustomed to employ in our dealings with others.
Main Letters of the Abbot of Clairvaux or certain of
are read, it is a matter for surprise to
*°d led to those who did not share his point
may be also true of his Sermons. The violence
of his temperament is there made manifest. But this harsh-
•**•• °f I* « inspired by so great a love of the glory
•■'.. of the honour of the Church and of the salvation of
•oult, that we are not tempted to be shocked at it.
Pi time, there were still to be found certain
who lived in the woods.2 But this form of
Mtaur life was only suitable for a very few. The Abbot of
ent with St Basil and St Benedict,
' '":' :'k';«inst it.3 The isolation of the hermit,
;' cause <»f formidable temptations. It
^monasteries that the religious life must henceforth be
«! \r]..j>r<J.
ol his monks a strictly faithful observ-
1 •"";'» Rule. By it he trained them in the
:, ' -tbo^rand the mind. He could not suffer
• h» religious any tendency to follow their own will, nor
JL*ti* **"• cxii, ccccxii.
\7iJEZikZH BSrrardi> cxix> cxx cX CLXXXV,
Jp a 1 xiii I Berhardi Vita, lib. VII
Efnt. cxv.
Zhc Benetoctine Scbool in tbc flM&Me Haes u
any attachment to their own opinion. " These," he said, " are two leprosies which devour the hearts of monks."1
" Self-will is that which does not agree with the will of (iod nor with that of men, but which is strictly our own. It is made manifest when that which we will does not tend to the glory of God, nor to the benefit of the brethren, but solely to our own. That which we seek is not to please God, nor to help the brethren, but to satisfy our personal caprice. . . . What is it that God detests and punishes if it be not self-will? If there were no more self-will there would be no more hell ! Cesset voluntas propria et infemus non crit. . . ."2
" The leprosy of private judgement is the more fatal in that it is hidden. ... It is found in those who have a zeal for God but not according to knowledge (Rom. x, 2) ; they follow their errors with so much obstinacy that they will listen to no advice. They are firebrands of discord, enemies of peace, deprived of charity, puffed up with pride, full of themselves and great in their own eyes, ignorant of the justice of God and desirous of substituting their own for it."*
The only remedy which could cure these two maladies of the soul was obedience. St Bernard exacts it with the same rigour as did the fathers of the desert. On this point we have an insight into his mind in his treatise De praecepto et dis- pensatione,4, addressed to the monks of St Peter of Chartres, who had consulted him as to the nature of the obligation of the Rule of St Benedict.
The evil mind, this curse of communities, is one of the consequences of adherence to self-will and private judgement. It shows itself by cliques, the dominant feature of which is criticism. The malcontents group themselves together and make asides which divide the community. The Abbot of Clairvaux is pitiless in their regard.
"Watch them withdraw apart," he says; "they gather together and let loose their evil tongues in detestable conversa- tions. One bit of tattle follows another without leaving time for breath, so great is the desire to criticize or to hear complaints. They make collusions in order to malign the others, and conspire to promote discord. They form with one another most unfriendly or aggressive friendships (ineunt inter se inimicissimas amicitias), and their odious meetings are passed in taking pleasure in a common malignity."5
1 In temfore paschali, sermo III, 3.
2 ibid., cf. Epist. cxlii, cccxxii {P.L., CLXXXII, 297, 527).
3 In tempore paschali, sermo III, 4.
4 Epecially chapters i, ix, x, xii. According to St Bernard, the prescriptions of the Rule are so much the more easy as they are the more numerous, like the feathers of the bird, which lift it into the air with greater ease when they are thicker. Epist. ccclxxxv, 3.
6 In Cantica. sermo XXIV.
Christian Spirituality
But this refers only to a very small number; that of the lax and lukewarm. The great part of the monks, faithful observers of their rule, found in their intercourse with God delight fill sntions for the sacrifices imposed. We shall
tee 1: Abbot of Clairvaux showed them how to taste
f the r ligiooa life.
shall show, tender and affective piety ere t! : eristics of St Bernard and the whole Cistercian
IV OTHER CENTRES OF THE BENEDICTINE SCHOOL THE ABBEY OF BEC— ST ANSELM
(1027), St John Gualbert2 (1073), anc^ St Peter (1072) are among- the famous restorers of Benedic- tine discipline in Italy on the same lines as the Cluniacs in v cannot be looked upon as writers on spiritu- ality, as they strove rather to revive the fervour of the than to discourse concerning- it. St Peter Damian, . in several of his opuscula,4 dealt with the - concerning monastic life. He is a great advo- cate of corporal chastisements. Those laid down by the Rule do not serin to him sufficient; he calls for an increase.5
it mystic of the eleventh century, who may be
looked u; the bead of a school, is St Anselm, Abbot
of Bee, in Normandy, and afterwards Archbishop of Canter-
usually looked upon as a philosopher and
in. The position which he occupies in the history
-v and philosophy is, moreover, greater than in
v- ertheie , his Meditations and Prayers
' ■' • ' • ' '•'• "us ol the Middle Ages, and have inspired
pail of spiritual writers since the end of the
■ mily of the Onesti of Ravenna, reformed his
v causing the Rule of St Benedict
thwe He afterwards retired into solitude at
*' °,5?r B the Apennines, where he founded the Order
HUlSIr 11! w0011 ' '"' <>f h('rmit and cenobitic houses.
- ace, founded the Benedictine Con-
IMfstl 1 1 1 vaOombroM about 1038.
., * Ravenna in 988, entered the Monastery of
" !' ' (-'bbio, in rmbria. About io6g he
'. '■'" "' ' l««'f O tin by the Pope. He was one 0! , .', ' ,. ' • ' I'apary in its endeavours to reform the ,, . ' ■ - ' '" Limousin in--.,), should also be men-
ijnejof Grandmon,
* ^Lil'll V"'M; iv, xxvii. St Peter Damian
E%Z Taurus, Bishop of Cesena, of
. ;, 4 ' ' :' •' ! ': ' " mini. Loricatus (P.L., CXLIV
Ubc JSeneMctine Scbool in tbe /IIM&Me Hges 13
The mysticism of the Middle Ages could not well be under- stood without a preliminary study of St Anselm.
Anselm was born in the city of Aosta, in Piedmont, in 1033. * In his youth he allowed himself to be led away some- what by the attractions of the world, and, according to the account of his biography, M as soon as his mother died, the barque of his heart, as though it had lost its anchor, became almost completely the plaything of the waves of that time."2 He wept bitterly on account of his faults ;a it is possible to recognize and admire, in several of his Meditations,4 an echo of the cry of pain revived by the thought of his past life.
His conversion was brought about at the Abbey of Bee, under the famous Lanfranc, the future Archbishop of Canter- bury. He became a monk there at the age of twenty-seven years.5 Eighteen years later, in August, 1078, he was elected Abbot of Bee;6 and in 1093 he succeeded Lanfranc in the Archiepiscopal See of Canterbury. He died on April 21, 1109.7
The piety of Anselm is extraordinarily affective.
Souls that are speculative are not, as a rule, affective. It would seem that aptitude for speculation, when it reaches a certain point, absorbs the activity of the soul and renders the heart dry. On the other hand, the affective seldom feel themselves drawn towards abstract researches which please the mind of the thinker. The history of spirituality, however, tells of some writers so gifted that they have united intel- lectual speculation with the most touching affective outbursts and heartfelt prayer. St Anselm is one of the number.
The Meditations and the Prayers8 which have caused Anselm to be known as a spiritual writer are holy upliftings based on dogma. At the same time that the intelligence of the famous theologian soared to the highest regions of the Christian mysteries, his heart became inflamed with love, and made itself heard in a song of thanksgiving or a suppliant prayer; the song of the Christian soul thanking God for the light
1 Eadmer, Vila Ansehni, Acta Sanctorum, 21 afrilis. This Vita is reproduced by Migne {P.L., CLVIII, 49-120). See also by this same Eadmer the Historia novorum {P.L., CLIX, 347-524).
2 Vita Anselmi, lib. I, cap. i, 4. 3 id., lib. I, cap. i, n. * Meditationes, II-IV {P.L., CLVIII, 722-733).
5 Vita Anselmi, lib. I, cap. i, 7; cap. ii, 11.
9 id., lib. I, cap. v. 7 id., lib. II, cap. i, 7.
8 The Meditations {P.L., CLVIII, 109-820) and the Prayers {Ora- tiones) (855,-1016) are almost the only works on spirituality by St Anselm, fairly well authenticated. The Meditation IX (748-761) is not St Anselm's. Cf. J. Bainvel, Diet, de Thiol, cath., art. Saint Anselme, vol. i, 1334. The Meditations and the Prayers had an enormous success in the Middle Ages, and on that account were open to alterations. An English edition of the authentic text of St Anselm's prayers is being prepared.
i4 Christian Spirituality
l«Cr. -' imploring him to grant it participa-
tion in those i afar off.
.( h thee, O Lord," he exclaims in his
beautifu! XI (hi the Redemption, "grant that I
. taste by love that which I taste by knowledge ; that I
may led in KM hetfl that which I touch with the mind. I owe
Ihre more than myself, but I can give thee nothing more than
myself, and even b) my own strength I am not able to give
myself wholh Carry me away by thy love, carry me
entirely away ! All that I am as a creature belongs to thee;
gram that all ma\ be thine by the gift of my love. Here,
my heart before thee, it strives to give itself to
annot ; do thou bring about that which
. e of itself.
ce me to enter within the sanctuary of thy love. I
laapl this favour, I knock at the door of
. that thou mayst open it to me. Thou who
\. race, grant also that I may receive
ii me to seek, grant that I may find.
Thou who teaches! me to knock, do thou open unto me. To
whom will thou give if not to him who asks? Who will find
To whom shall it be opened if not to
him who knocks? What wilt thou give to him who does not
rst thy love to him who prays? It is thou
ire, it is thou also who wilt hearken to
< > my soul ! attach thyself to God, obstinately
ittach thyself to him ! O good Lord Jesus, do not repulse
It hungers for thy love, comfort it ! Grant that it
*y be sated with thy charity, enriched by thy affection,
■lid that this love may wholly seize me and
■ ."isc thou art, with the Father and the
« "Hi, blessed for ever and ever. Amen."1
... A. . ■ ll,,Ul doubt» a ^reat ^ective writer. For
thaV. ;,lsn in ,,u^ htehes* <Ieffree specula-
seaVLXT^ '" ?" !^,u'sl sPheres of metaphysics with-
"«s love lor speculation and rational
LrLCT,,nrS,,1i;n h,s uri,in-s l)y Principles that . ' "■ *"! Si Bernard had he known them.
JR^ :"1,> convinced that no better use
iMlruThs^ (1 !" r— - «"«» to «PPly it to the study of
13 h,r ' ,m<1^<'^ all that can be
,, , '■' . "\\-. ■■•-I t«> explain them in so far as they
V^^^^r^ v r(,,v on faith ai°neJ ^
;ve and afterwards endeavour to understand
0 ''• he exclaims at the beginning
C^Xw"^^ CLVIII, 769). Similar
^SWsTanTS in Anselm's treatise,
uoqutum dr extUentxa D$it cap. i, ,6 (P.L., CLVIIli
Zhz BeneMctine Scbool in tbe flMfcMe Hges 15
of the Proslogion,1 " to penetrate the depths of thy divine being, for I in no way feel my intelligence equal to the task; but I desire to understand something of thy truth, which my heart believes and loves. I do not seek indeed to understand in order to believe, but I believe in order to understand (credo ut intelligam). For I am certain that unless I first believe I shall not understand."
11 The Christian," he says elsewhere,2 " has not the right to doubt what the Catholic Church believes with the heart and confesses with the mouth, but he should always, whilst firmly holding to this faith, loving- it and living in con- formity with it, seek what it is by his reason, as far as he is capable of doing so. If he can understand, let him render thanks to God ; if he cannot, let him be guarded from rising against it, but with head bowed down, let him adore."
This method, which consists in applying the reason, with all data, to the study of the faith, proceeding by reason and not by authority, has been called the scholastic method. St Anselm, as is his right, is held to be the father of it. We can see how this method is opposed to that of affective mysticism.3
One of the mysteries of the faith which St Anselm par- ticularly examined is that of the redemption. He made a very careful study of it in his treatise Cui^Qeushotno ,4 in which he drew up what has been called the Anselmian theory of satisfaction. Sin, he says, does an infinite injury to God; it demands, therefore, an infinite satisfaction, which could only be effected by God made man. The soul of Anselm was imbued with this doctrine concerning sin and its malice, the satisfaction that it requires, the contrition that . we should have on account of it, the goodness and mercy of God who pardons it. It was also full of sorrowing love for Christ who paid our debt to God by suffering and dying for us. These ideas which filled the mind of Anselm filled his heart also. They became transformed into ardent upliftings to God, and gave to Anselmian spirituality its characteristic note. They
1 Proslogion, cap. i. St Anselm had first called this work Fides qtiaerens intellectum, Faith seeking to understand {Proslogion froe- mium, P.L., CLVIII, 225, 227). In this treatise Anselm proves the existence of God by the ontological argument, sometimes called after his name : God is conceived as an infinitely perfect being. Therefore he exists, for existence is a perfection.
2 De fide Trinitatis, cap. ii (col. 263).
3 That, again, which distinguishes St Anselm from the mystics of the twelfth century is that he does not much care for symbolism. In his Letter to Walram, Bishop of Naumburg, he disapproves of those who leave the chalice uncovered during Mass, under the pretext that the symbolism requires it, Christ having suffered his Passion in the open air (P.L., CLVIII, 554).
« P.L,, CLVIII, 359 4j-».
16 Cbtrtettan Spirituality
are the most frequent theme of the Meditations and the Prayers.
an soul," he exclaims in one of his Meditations,
from a dreadful death, O soul, redeemed and
ered from a miserable slavery by the blood of God,
awak« n and call to mind thy resurrection, ponder on thy
redemption and on thy deliverance ! Ask thyself again
i he value of thy salvation and what its price is;
thereon at length, contemplate it with joy; shake
, do violence to thy heart, give it thine attention,
goodness of thy Redeemer, burn with love for thy
"If indeed to sin is to outrage God — a thing which man do, even though all that exists outside of God should perish — unchangeable truth and true wisdom require that the r should give back to God, on account of the injury he has done him, greater honour than that which he deprived him of by sinning. But human nature by itself is incapable of making reparation for this injury done to God, yet, never- inot be forgiven without providing the needful on. In order that the justice of God should not leave unexpiated sin in his kingdom^ the divine goodness has inter- vened. The Son of God took human nature into the unity of hi«s person, so that in this one person there was a God- Man who was able to pay the debt that sinners owed. . . .
e, O' Christian soul, there is the price of thy salva- .<• cause of thy deliverance, there the cost of thy on. Thou wast a captive, but thou hast been ou wast a slave, and hast been set free. Thus, thou hast been brought back; lost, thou hast been ad, thou hast been raised again."1 Then com.- outpourings of love to the divine Redeemer : *• And now, Lord Jesus, my Redeemer, I adore thee as ► I believe In thee, hope in thee, aspire to thee, as far as I am able, with all the ardour of my desire. Help my weakness; I bow myself deeply before the wonders of thy passion, by which thou hast wrought my salvation. . . ."2
* What hast thou done, O most sweet Jesus, thus to be
gy*!? What ,,ast thou done, O Friend most dear, to be
treated thus? What is thy crime, what thy misdeed, what
t the cause of thy death, what of thy condemnation? I am
Mow which pained thee, I the author of thy death. It
I thee in thy passion, I that laboured to
I U I that earned for thee this death and
Jinmiited the Crime revenged on thee. Oh, how wonderful
.terms of the judgement of God, how ineffable the
aiipotmons of the divine mystery. It is the fool that sins,
» *£{"«/>* XI, dt rtdemttione humana (P.L., CLVIII, 762763, 765, 1*9 7*7). • Mtditatio IX, dc humamtaic Christi (758). P
Zbc Bene&ictine School in tbe /HMfcfcle Hges 17
Hand yet the just is punished; the guilty commits the fault, land the innocent is smitten; the impious offends God, and [the pious is condemned; that which the wicked deserves is 8 suffered by the good; that which the slave contracts, the 1 master pays; for that which man commits, God is charged. How far, O Son of God, how far has thy humility descended ! How far has thine ardent charity brought thee ! How far has thy goodness gone ! How far thy kindness ! How far has reached thy love ! How far has thy compassion ex- tended ! For it is I who have sinned ; it is thou who art punished. . . .M1
Emotions flood the heart of Anselm, just as much as thoughts crowd his mind. In his inability to give expres- sion to all that he feels, to strengthen his language he multiplies synonyms like the waves of a rising tide.2
Let us listen once more to those cries of pain, ever " like a rising tide " in the same Anselmian strain, of the sinful Isoul imploring pardon :
" O my soul, my unhappy soul, miserable soul, I say, of a man not less miserable, shake off thy torpor ; inquire into [thy sin and stir up thy mind. Recall to thy heart thy monstrous sin and force from it doleful moaning. See, O unhappy one, and behold thy horrible crime, and stir up within thee fear and sorrow. Thou, I say, that wast formerly washed in the heavenly bath and gift of the Holy Spirit, thou that hast taken the oath of the Christian profession, thou as a virgin once espoused to Christ, O what memories ! Of whom have I just spoken? I think no longer of the blessed Spouse of my virginity, but of the terrible Judge of my impurity ! O bitter remembrance of my lost happiness ! . . . 1 Remember, O just God, remember that thou art merciful, that thou art my Creator and Restorer. Forget thy just wrath against the sinner ; be mindful only of thy mercy owards thy creature ; be not angry with the blameworthy, but have pity on an unfortunate. . . ."3
Pardon is granted because of the death of Christ, who is our whole reason for hope. This trust in the passion of Jesus is powerfully taught in the famous ExhortationTo the Dying, which is at least a faithful echo of St Anselm's ideas on the redemption, even though the words themselves are not his.
Anselm, in order to console a dying man, terrified at the thought of his sins, would have him thus exhorted :
" Dost thou rejoice, my brother, to die in the Christian Faith? — I do rejoice.. — Art thou happy to die in the habit of
1 Oratio II (P.L., CLVIII, 861). It is the prayer Quid commisisti,
dulcissime fuer, ut sic iudicaris? . . . often quoted in books of devo- tion. Reproduced in the Meditations, VII, attributed to St Augustine P.L., XL, 906). 2 J. Bainvel, of.cit,, 1333.
3 Meditatio III, Defloratio male amissae virginitatis (725-726). II. 2
, g CbrtsttanlSpirf tuaUty
a monk?1— Yes, I am happy.— Dost thou acknowledge that
thou hast led an evil life and that thou deservest eternal
punishment?- 1 acknowledge it— Dost thou repent of it ?—
I do repent.— Hast thou a firm purpose of amendment if thou
time?— I have.— Dost thou believe that the Lord
died for thee?— I believe it.— Dost thou return
ks for it?— I do.— Dost thou believe that thou canst
only through his death?— I believe it.
long as thy soul remains with thee ; put all thy
in his death once for all ; have no confidence in anything
thou confide wholly in that death; cover thyself
ly in it alone, wrap thyself wholly up in that death. And
if the Lord wills to judge thee, say to him : Lord, I interpose
the death of our Lord Jesus Christ between myself and thy
• ment, else I ref^NUo be judged. And if he say to thee :
■ a sinner, reply : Lord, I put the death of our
U8 Christ between thee and my sins. If he say to
thai thou deservest to be damned, reply : Lord, I place
the death of our Lord Jesus Christ between thee and my
demerits, and I offer thee his merits instead of those that I
should have but have not. If he tell thee that he is angry
with thee, say : Lord, I interpose the death of our Lord Jesus
n thee, thine anger, and myself.
" Afterwards let the sick man say three times : Into thy
hand I commend my spirit. Thou hast redeemed us,
G J of truth."2
dm has also composed certain prayers in honour of
< d Virgin,8 which entitle him to the reputation of
being a great client of Mary. Thus, later on, a considerable
*r of prayers and hymns addressed to the Mother of
• United to him.*
' ! the Archbishop of Canterbury was such that
a number <»l treatises on spirituality were placed to his credit
«>f which he was not the author. His name, like that of St
d, later, those, of St Bernard and of Hugh of
I the honour of clothing with his fame many
piritual works.*
» If the tlTiug man be a layman, this question is modified.
i vim '''""' " de teccatis suls nimium formidanti (P.L
IX, L, LI (946-952), of which the authen- iied.
fsalterium de sancta Virgine Maria (1035-1050).
■ de Passione Domini (P.L., CLVIII,
ad tonlemftum temporalium et desiderium aeter-
Z? BR ,; '' ^ntemftu mundi (687-706); Meditati*
-tutus asceticus (1021-1035); Dialogus
%"" ** mt Domini (P.L., CLIX, 271-290);
; the writings De conception t B. "*"" fi Bainvel, op. clt., 1334.
nr
CHAPTER II
THE SPIRITUAL TEACHING OF
ST BERNARD
;< ;■. t HE spirituality of St Bernard is not remarkable for any particularly new ideas. The Abbot of Clairvaux, as opposed to St Anselm, did not care H for speculation ; practical knowledge, which taught
■ how to know and serve God, which gives to man
i knowledge of himself and the love of virtue, alone found j favour in his sight. Learned mystical theories, therefore, such as are to be found, for example, in the writings of Hugh and Richard of St Victor, are not to be sought for in his. His ideas were, those commonly received. They were drawn [ from holy Writ, of which he had a profound knowledge, always interpreting it in an allegorical and mystical sense. The Latin Fathers, St Ambrose, a little perhaps of St Gregory, and, above all, St Augustine, provided him, as they did all spiritual writers of this period, with the traditional | ascetical and mystical instruction. As regards the Greek writers, he hardly knew any but the Lives of the Fathers of the Desert, which the Latin translation of Rufinus had ren- dered popular.
Whence came then the enormous influence of St Bernard's spirituality throughout the Middle Ages?
The eminent holiness of the Abbot of Clairvaux was doubt- less not unconnected with the extraordinary spread of his spirituality. The reputation for lofty piety which a writer enjoys always draws attention to that which flows from his pen.
Bernard was also a strong man of action. He often left his cloister in order to counsel kings and popes, to encounter heresy, and to stir up the masses with a view to the accom- plishment of some great work. No important event took I place in his epoch in which he was not to be found in the |» front rank. He appears, as has been written of him, "to I have absorbed all the knowledge of his time." It may be said of him as it was of Moses (Acts vii, 22), that he was mighty in his words and in his deeds. The immense renown which •the Abbot of Clairvaux enjoyed could not but accredit his teaching in the Church. But these are only secondary causes. )iThe true reason that accounts for the influence of St Ber- nard's writings is that they were specially adapted to render Christian piety affective.
Born at Fontaines-lez-Dijon, in that part of Burgundy 'which was to produce Bossuet and Lacordaire, Bernard
19
ao Christian Spirituality
pottfturd an I temperament of a high order. He
ul his fine sensitiveness is reproduced in his
\e all in his sermons. At the death of his
e gave vent before his monks to his sorrow,
in the deepest recesses of the soul.1 He
the same pathos when he described the cruci-
»r the sorrows of Mary at the foot of the
croft*. I of Assisi was not the first to pour forth
lamentations before the crucifix, nor to weep with pity while
contemplating the infant God in the manger. Before him,
rnard had let his grief burst forth while meditating on
Hftioo o! Christ, and was moved to tears when speaking
tai night This monk of grim austerity, who gave
to his Abbey Oi Clairvaux a Rule of a severity far beyond
. :i l>\ Si Benedict, well knew how to appeal to
the heart and to the feelings. He excelled in bringing into
hing aspects of the lives of the Saviour and of
lessed Virgin; and he was moved to tenderness by the
ne love. He brought out all that was sweet and
oving and consoling, in the Christian mysteries,
•ntributed more than anyone to the giving of an
r to the piety of the Middle Ages.
The lity of the Greek monks, as we know, did not
at touches the heart and moves the feelings; it
by preference to the austere aspects of piety,
piring fear. St Augustine, by way of reaction,
■ particularly the part which belongs to the heart '
oi perfection, in this respect, the Abbot of
the Augustinian tradition.
# Hit style helps wonderfully to this end. Not that from a
J"*"**? P' new it is beyond reproach;2 the Abbot of
Clairvaux attached but small importance to culture and form, j
rbftt which ca; and moves and draws to God in his
is the attractiveness of a keen sense
"ritual ardour of piety. The writings
I lairvaux, says M. Vacandard, "breathe
: ' • " " ' ' I :«ml ol souls. Their characteristic is
• 'hai i io say, an indescribable sweetness,
:^a *tjthe S:"nr ti,m* tcndcr» wilh which his style is K^ render. ng ,t sweet and making it penetrate to th<
57^?^# . "* SOUl hkr divine STace. Bernard possessei nderful set rei In the highest degree, whence the title o
:V*L°' ' ' ommonly bestowed on him ir
* mteentn century, and remain! Attached to his name."3
,*ro^ 17-473, Paris ,897.
U Er ■ \Z 'mmI,- particularly relishea
m^m JT ' •■1...1m,.,i,i. which he possessed,
Xtiorus Gerirudianae,
Ubc Spf ritual ZTeacbina of St Bernard 21
It is, in fact, because they distilled the honey of tender
devotion that the writing's of Bernard attracted so many
souls and began a form of piety which soon became general.
I They are a stage in the history of spirituality, and, from this
I point of view, the Abbot of Clairvaux may be compared to
, St Francis de Sales.
St Bernard gives great importance to humility, which, according to him, is the beginning of Christian life and j perfection, ensures its development and makes it reach its ! goal. Bernard, so sparse in comparisons and images drawn from nature, comes out of his habitual reserve when he speaks of this virtue. He sees in it a dawn which dispels the darkness of sin and proclaims the light of justice.1 It has drawn God down to earth, as the nard of the bride in the Canticle of Canticles drew the heavenly Spouse by its perfume.2
The hyssop and the dove are pleasing symbols of it.3 Bernard is never sated with speaking or writing on humility ; he sees the power of it in every act of the spiritual life ; no virtue can make progress or even exist without it. In the mystery of the Incarnation, that which touches and moves him in the highest degree is the abasement of the Word made flesh.4 This predilection for humility is one of the char- acteristic marks of Bernardine spirituality.
Devotion to the mysteries of the mortal life of the Saviour and those who were connected with it, like the blessed Virgin and St Joseph, appears in the sermons of St Bernard much more than in the homilies of the Fathers of the Church. In the twelfth century, the cycle of the liturgical year was com- pletely formed. The Abbot of Clairvaux preached to his monks on the subject of every feast from Advent to Pente- cost. He had occasion, again and again, with never-failing tenderness of heart, to preach on the principal acts in the great drama of man's redemption. We shall see what an influence he thus exerted on the whole of the Middle Ages.
Finally, St Bernard was a great mystic. He has not left a synthesis of that part of his spirituality which was con- cerned with extraordinary states, any more than he has left a theory concerning his asceticism, but the elements of a copious mystical theology are to be found in his writings.
The spirituality of St Bernard may be summed up under these heads : (i) Christian perfection and the preponderant role which humility plays therein. (2) The doctrine of the
1 Set mo XCI de diversis, 3.
2 In Assum-pt. B.V.M., sermo IV, 7; In Cantica, sermo XLII, 6.
3 In Cantica, sermo XLV, 2, 4.
4 Cf. In E-pifihania Domini, sermo 1,2: Quanto enim minor em se fecit in humanitate, tanto major em exhibuit in bonitate; et quanto fro me vilior, tanto mihi carior.
„ Cbrlsttan Spiritualty
Un* of God. (3) The means of sanctification. (4) Devotion totksm fthe life of Christ. (5) Devotion to Mary
(6) r to the guardian angels. (7) St Bernard and St
in mystical theology, (q) On the excellence of ministry and the qualities which it demands.
I-CHRISTIAN PERFECTION— THE ROLE OF HUMILITY Perfection, according to St Bernard, consists in correspond- ing so completely with grace that our will not only avoids all but also performs good, to the extent that, and as fully c are invited to do by grace.3
6 nit ion calls to mind that which we have already ording to which ideal perfection excludes every fault, no matter how small.
. we may note two points which are proper to the idea as expressed by the Abbot of Clairvaux.
It is bv the correspondence of the will with the action of
grace that perfection is obtained. Bernard, in his treatise On
tdom of choice,4, has given great attention
to the relation between grace and free will. Grace enables us
to avoid evil and practise good on condition that the will
adheres to its impulse. If this adhesion be full and entire,
if it I- it, perfection will be attained; for grace always
tends towards goodness. It even disposes us in all things
• it which is most perfect. He who yields fully
ice will not only avoid all evil, but will be unceasingly
trds that which is most perfect. Always to|
choote tl. perfect — such is the second characteristic
of p< according to St Bernard.
The Abbot of Clairvaux is the first to acknowledge thatj such a perfr< don belongs to heaven and not to earth. Here below, no matt tee of holiness is attained, we
not capable of conforming ourselves so entirely to the divine
;»*I sources: S. Bernardi abbatis ClaraevaUensis Efistolae; .
e moribus et officio efisco forum; Sermo de
Tractatus de gradibus humilitatis et super
de dihgenda Deo (P.L., CLXXXII) ; Sermones de tern-
Stwmtnti de Sanctis; Sermones de diver sis ; Sententiae; Sermon
'*m (P.L., » I XXXIII); Acta Sanctorum, S. BernarM g {P.L.* I Vacandard. Vx
lv, Pans iSqj. The whole of St Bernard was trans- IS4S4 toto French by the monk Ant. de S. Gabriel, Paris 1678, 13 volfl Uaar mors modern translations have been made.
/■ ftto S. Mickaelts, sermo II, 4 (P.L., CLXXXIII, 454) : Cufut ?T*" f* *o*ction* et cum desiderio gratiae cohaeret, ut nsM > agere, nee bona minora, nee minus bene quam gratia vir. * *
tan Spirituality, to! i 4 />.£., CLXXXII.
XTbe Spiritual ZTeacbina of St Bernard 23
inspirations, and are unable, as St Augustine so clearly taught, to avoid every little fault. Should we not say, without ceasing-, to God: Forgive us our trespasses? (Matt, vi, 12). 1
Even though we are not able to reach to this summit of perfection, we must at least strive without ceasing to approach it as closely as possible. According to St Bernard, as to St Augustine, Christian perfection consists, in reality, in a continued effort towards the best. " No one," he says, can be perfect unless he yearns to be more perfect, and we show ourselves to be the more perfect as we aspire to a still higher perfection."2
Thus unlimited progress in goodness is the law of perfec- tion ; for to cease to make progress is, in fact, to fall away.
" An untiring effort to make progress and a constant striving towards that which is more perfect, such is perfec- tion. If to labour for perfection is to be perfect, not to wish to make progress is without doubt to fail (perfecto nolle pro- ficere deficere est). Where, then, do they stand who are in the habit of saying : It is enough for us, we do not wish to be better than our fathers? O monk, dost thou not wish to make progress? — No. — Dost thou then wish to fall back? — Not at all. — What, then, dost thou wish? — I wish to live in such a way, thou sayest, that I may remain at that point which I have reached, without letting myself fall back, but without the desire to go higher. — What thou wishest is im- possible, for nothing in this world remains in the same state. . . .3 Jacob saw in his dream angels ascending and descending the celestial ladder (Gen. xxviii, 12); not one of them stopped or took rest. Neither should we ourselves stop on the slope of our frail ladder, for there is nothing in the movement of this mortal life that can remain stationary. .... We must of necessity mount or descend ; if we try to stop, inevitably we fall. He who refuses to be better, is assuredly no longer good, and, in that he does not expect to become better, he thereby ceases to be good."4 We must, then, always go forward : semper extendamur ad anteriora.5
This teaching is a sort of leitmotiv in the spirituality of St Bernard; it constantly recurs.6
1 In Vigilia Nativitatis Domini, sermo VI, 10.
2 Efistola xxxiv, ad Draconem monach., 1 (P.L., CLXXXII, 440) : Nemo quippe perfectus qui ferfectior esse non appetit ; et in eo quisque perfectiorem se probat quo ad majorem tendit perfectionem.
3 Epist. ecliv, ad abbatem Guarinum, 3-4 (cols. 460-461).
* Epist. xci, ad abb. Suessione congreg., 3 (col. 224) : Minime pro eerto est bonus qui melior esse non vult ; et ubi incipis nolle fieri melior ibi etiam desinis esse bonus.
5 In Puriftcatione B.V.M., sermo II, 3; In psalm. Qui habitat, sermo IV, 3.
6 Cf. Epist. ccclxxxv; De consider atione, lib. II, cap. vii ; Serm. de diversis, sermo XXV, 4.
j4 Cbrtetfan Spirituality
Christian perfection, that uninterrupted effort towards that as an indispenable condition, the ii wretchedness. It is because he is con- scious of his imperfection that the true believer yearns to tetter. To know himself such as he is, with all his imperfections, is the first knowledge that the n who desires to sanctify himself must acquire. This knowledge of ourselves, which is the result of looking our- selves in the face, of the honest scrutiny of ourselves as we ■re, is calculated, in the highest degree, to inspire humility.1 For, according to the views of St Bernard, who reproduces those of St Augustine, humility is truth ; it is the result of the sincere and truthful knowledge of ourselves, of what we •re, and of the smallness of our worth.
The virtue of humility is thus found to be the genesis of perfection ; St Bernard, like St Augustine, places it at the base of the spiritual edifice. It is the foundation without b no solidity in the Christian life: nisi super humilitatis fundamentum, spirituale aedificium stare minime potest.9 For man deprived of humility is ignorant of himself and does not know (iod ; he is not capable of self-sanctifica- tion and of tending towards perfection. Knowledge of oneself, humility, and perfection are realities which, in the eyes of the Abbot of Clairvaux, call for and produce one another. It is this that he expounds to his monks in his commentaries on the Rule of St Benedict; it is also the teaching set forth in his Treatise on the Degrees of Humility,3 addressed to Godfrey, Abbot of Fontenay.
The definition of humility which St Bernard gives us ■
to pride, which, according to St Augustine (/), ./ /,/,.. lib. X1) l8)> is the jn0rdinate
to* of our own ex St Bernard hence concluded that
humility consists in the contempt of our own excellence: MumtUta 'emptus propriae excellentiae.* This con-
wLZl*£i'J';"rm0 HH1' ": Ad **~M***™ nihil anima in- S*tm* ,e ante jactem suam. nee se a se avertere abducatur.
VAtt'Sllr Brf?ard Fu'PS8? t0 comment on the twelve degrees
g->y* •»—"»««* m the Rule of St Benedict. Changing his
SrfeStT^ S?-.^ }wd.v« <»•*'«« of pride (cap. x-xxi), which
; . ' ■ ""'■ foolish joy, hoisting, singularity,
•isy, revolt, licentiousness and ^1 dnm.fr -trait, „f monks having these
'officio episcoforum, cap. v, IO ; Tract, de
-H*i •ii.nitur 111 , , • uf contemttu* propriae excellence.
^rf«utt^'„V My,\ W? Sha" See that the term r m I lUlUlfS as a definition of humility in general.
XTbe Spiritual ZTeacbing ot St Bernard 25
tempt is derived from a true and sincere knowledge of our- selves. Is it possible to know ourselves as we are, with our wretchedness and our faults, without forming a detrimental opinion of ourselves? Does not the truth concerning our- selves force us to disparage ourselves in our own eyes? St Bernard connects the virtue of justice with humility, of which it is the complement.1
" The soul which sees itself in the clear light of truth," he says, " discovers itself to be unsightly, and sighing in its wretchedness which it can no longer hide, does it not, with the prophet, cry out to the Lord : In thy truth thou hast humbled me? (Ps. cxviii, 75). For how could it not be wholly humbled by this sincere knowledge of itself when it sees itself laden with sin, weighed down by the burden of this mortal body, plunged in the cares of this world, stained by the vileness of carnal passion, blind, deformed, weak, struggling against a thousand errors, exposed to a thousand dangers, a prey to a thousand fears . . . inclined to vice and incapable of itself of being virtuous? How could it be able to lift up its eyes in boasting or its head with pride?"2
Hence humility is produced by two considerations, that of our own wretchedness and that of the divine power which heals us of our infirmities.3
The Abbot of Clairvaux is thus led to formulate his famous definition of humility. It is the virtue by which man, know- ing himself most intimately, is despicable in his own sight.4
The humility thus defined — Bernard himself states it — is that of those who are advancing, of those " who rise from virtue to virtue."3 Indeed, in order to have a sufficiently com- plete idea of our wretchedness to the point of despising our- selves, we must already possess a high ideal of sanctity to which we may be compared. It is therefore the definition of an eminent degree of humility rather than of humility itself that the Abbot of Clairvaux proclaims. If, in order to be humble, even in the lowest degree, it be necessary to have contempt for ourselves, " to be despicable in our own sight," very few would be so.
Humility, in its ordinary sense, is a virtue which represses the excess of our self-esteem and restrains the immoderate desire to raise ourselves above others. It is inspired by as near an appreciation as possible of what we are. If it finds satisfaction at the sight of our failings and in a sense of what
1 In psalm. Qui habitat, sermo XIV, 10; In Cantica, sermo XXXIV, 2-4.
2 In Cantica, sermo XXXVI, 5. 3 Efist. cccxciii, 3.
4 De gradibus humilit., cap. i, 2; Humilitas est virtus qua homo verissima sui cognitione sibi if si vilescit. 8 De grad. humil., ibid.
s6 Christian Spirituality
we lack, it ought not to close its eyes wholly to our good qualities, for it is truth. " Humility," says Lacordaire,1 •• do - nsist in hiding our talents and virtues, in think-
ing ourselves worse and more ordinary than we are, but in posv dear knowledge of all that is lacking in us and
in not exalting ourselves for that which we have, seeing that freely given it to us, and that even with all his gifts,
re still of infinitely little importance." The Abbot of Clairvaux, on the contrary, recommends those who wish to be humble to turn their regard away from their qualities in order to think only of their own abjectness. This aspect of his religious psychology may be explained by the need which he felt of lowering himself in his own eyes when everything around him tended to exalt him. This monk, whose words had resounded throughout the
:, who was consulted everywhere by all men, who roused the massei by his eloquence, found in an exaggeration of the sense of his wretchedness a necessary counterpoise to these inducements to pride.2 Lacordaire, too, on the days when he had been applauded at Notre-Dame de Paris, on returning to his convent in the evening, needed to submit himself to extraordinary humiliations in order to suppress the pride which assailed him.3
If the theoretical definition of humility proclaimed by St
Bernard rail for certain reserves, it nevertheless expresses
a very true practical rule, and one that should be followed
who wish to become humble. The tendency to
• ourselves is so strong and so tyrannical, that we can on,v .urselves to proper bounds by constantly lower-
ing ourselves in our own eyes. It is what all the saints have !ly St Bernard, who, as his historian tells us, looked upon himself as the last of all when the whole world placed him in the front rank.4 He recommends us to look at and admire the virtues of others and to acknowledge that we
ieprived of them ourselves,8 to hide with the greatest rare the special graces which God has vouchsafed to us, so ith the saying that the humble man dreads the eyes of the fields and the ears of the forest 6 we way never sp. ourselves and may love to remain un-
known : A ma nesctrt, hudct tc os alienum, sileat tuum.1
ides jeunes gens, xxviii, On humility, Paris 1878, pp. 164-
N**, Hb. II, cap. iv, 25 ; Migne, P.L., CLXXXV,
' T^SL14^ $""*"'** '* ™ intime et religieuse, chaps.
• S. Bernardi. vita prima, ibid.
■""XXXVII, 7. •/• testa S. Marttnt, serma VIII, ,3;
•I. J'
-u, Tract, de moribus et offic.
lc« £?£i£mimi- '"m° ffi' ?• TiM '"*«*'« "I C*i* repro- a im porut ama nutiri (lib. I, cap. ii).
TLhc Spiritual Zcacbing of St JSemarfc 27
This humility, the nature of which Bernard loved to examine, plays a preponderant role in the Christian life. Every conversion necessarily begins by an act of abjection. When the sinner comes to know his state, when he sees what he is as contrasted with what he should be, does he not feel contempt for himself? The sight of his faults inspires him with fear of the chastisements he has deserved. And in his distress, he lifts up tearful eyes to God to beg for pardon. Humility thus makes us taste the consolations of mercy after having been dismayed by the rigours of justice.
" Those whom the truth, that is to say, humility, has made to know themselves, and to render themselves thus despicable in their own eyes, necessarily feel that that which they were accustomed to love has become bitter. For, seeing them- selves face to face, they are forced to see themselves as they are, and this sight causes them to blush with shame. Whilst they are discontented with their condition they sigh after a better state which they know they cannot reach by their own strength. In their lively sorrow, like severe judges who, for the love of truth, hunger and thirst after justice, they have no other consolation than to require of themselves, on account of the past, a most rigorous satisfaction, extending as far as contempt of themselves, and, as regards the future, a firm resolve to do better. But they realize that they are unable to succeed in this by their own power. . . . Thus they turn from the divine justice in order to beseech the divine mercy."1
Humility, which causes spiritual life to be produced within us, also assures its accomplishment. It is the labourer who digs the foundations of the spiritual edifice, who builds it and completes it.
Christian virtue in fact would not be able to subsist with- out it ; when it fails there is nothing but ruin and moral desolation in the soul.2 It is truly the mother of the other virtues. It receives them at their birth in the heart of the Christian, it guards them and makes them grow, and it leads them onwards to their end. Does not St Paul himself say that it is through infirmity, that is to say, humility, that virtue reaches its perfection?3
1 De grad. hum.il. , cap. v, 18. Cf. In Cantica, sermo xxxvi, 4-7; In Quadragesima^ sermo II.
2 De consider atione, lib. V, cap. xiv, 32 : Virtutum siquidem bonum auodam ac stabile fundamentum, humihtas . Nempe si nutet ilia vir- tutum aggregatio nonnisi ruina est. Cf. In Nativitate Domini, sermo
l> «■
3 Tract, de moribus et officio espiscoporum, cap. v,. 20 : Humilitas
ergo virtutes alias accipit. Servat acceftas, quia non requiescit Spiritus Domini, nisi super quietum et humilem (Isa. lxvi, 2). Servatas con- summat, nam virtus in infirmitate, hoc est in humilitate, perficitur (2 Cor. xii, 9). St Bernard makes use of the words of St Paul in a different sense ; they should be translated thus : The power of God is made perfect in infirmity.
a* Christian Spirituality
If humility be so powerful it is because, as we are taught
in n, God resisteth the proud, but to the humble he
et. v, 5). The heart is a vessel destined to
; in order that it may hold it abundantly it must
be emptied of self-love and vainglory.1 When humility
malo :i a great space to be filled, grace pervades it,
■ close affinity between grace and humility :
semper solet esse gratiae divinae familiaris virtus humilitas.2
e is nothing, then, more helpful than this virtue in order
to keep it with us or to recover it if lost.3
Humility is thus the inseparable companion, the devoted
friend, of all Christian virtues, more especially of such as
ntleness and charity, which are most refined.5
Humility it is which renders us compassionate for the
wn-tchedness of others; the sense of our own infirmities, of
our weakness and our poverty, inclines us to be indulgent
irds the failings of those around us. This compassion,
h makes us feel for the evils which afflict our neighbour,
ling to St Bernard, the second degree of humility.6
But we must not attach too much importance to this classifi-
n of the degrees of humility. We must not forget that
\bbot of Clairvaux is an orator, and not a theorist bound
by 1 hard and fast logic.
Finally, humility, by bringing the other virtues to perfec-
rtifei the soul to the heights of mystical contemplation.
God admits the humble to his intimacy and treats them with
familiarity : Familiarius semper humilitati pro-
f divinitas.1
he great virtue of humility," exclaims St Bernard,
which the divine Majesty inclines so easily ! It
cm quickly to change respect into friendship, and
bring it about that God, who was far from us, may soon be
the spikenard of the bride in the Canticle of
which Spreads its perfume and draws the heavenly
. i, 1 1).
What, indeed, does the expression Mv spikenard sends
odout mean if not this? My humility has pleased
MX my wisdom, saith the bride, nor my nobleness,
nor my beauty, in which gifts I am lacking, which have
! '«A"»«»ti°fione B.V.M., sermo ITT, 9. Cf. Efist. cccxciii, 2-V ' *i tStt HomiUa IV. ,, Cf. In Cantica, sermo XXXIV. sermo LIV, 9. Cf. Efist. ccclxxii ; Sermo XLVI, de
te mor. et off. efisc, cap. v, 17; Super Missus est, Homil.
i*Jn£22i*i" '"'!? °/fav- Assu*»tt' B.V.M., sermo XII; In Nativi-
• Degrad.humilit.,ckV.v. rf officio episc, cap. vi, 24 sermo XLIII, «, Cf. Sermones de diversis, LXII,
Ube Spiritual Ucacbing of St Bernard 29
exhaled their odour, but it is humility, my only treasure. Humility has the gift of pleasing God, and the Lord is wont to look upon that which is humble. Furthermore, whilst the divine King was on his throne in the highest heaven the odour of my humility went up to him."1
Bernard appears to attribute the wonders of the mystical union of the soul with Cod to humility. They are, however, the act of divine love, as the Abbot of Clairvaux well knows. Moreover, in order to abide by the traditional teaching with- out belittling the role of his most precious virtue he dis- tinguishes two kinds of humility — that which a knowledge of ourselves gives us (humilitas quatn Veritas parit), and that which charity brings forth (humilitas quam charitas format).'2 The first purifies the soul and enables it to fix its sight on heavenly and divine truths in order to contemplate them.
For there are three hindrances which prevent us from reaching mystical contemplation — ignorance of ourselves, our moral weakness, and our affection for sin. Humility, by making us know what we are, fills us with regret for our faults and heals us of our wretchedness.3 There is, then, no longer any hindrance to the vision of heavenly beauty. But for the soul to be united to God with that burning union which is known to mystics, charity must step in to enkindle humility, and impart to it divine ardour.4 Thus do we see the role of charity in the sanctification of the soul and in its being uplifted to these extraordinary states.
•• And I also, O Lord," cries St Bernard, " I shall willingly glory in my infirmity as far as I can ... so that thy virtue, that is to say humility, may be perfected in me. For thy grace is sufficient for me when my virtue fails. I resolutely adhere to the footsteps of thy grace, and thus, in spite of my progress being rendered difficult through weakness, I shall mount the ladder of humility without fear, until, wholly clinging to the truth, I reach the vast domain of charity. Then shall I sing with gratitude, and say : Thou hast set my feet in a spacious place (Ps. xxx, 9). Thus I go forward with greater assurance in thy narrow way, I ascend the steep ladder, though slowly, yet with greater calmness ; thus in a wonderful way do I reach the truth in spite of my sloth and halting footsteps. But woe is me, that my sojourning is pro- longed! (Ps. cxix, 5). Who will give me wings like a dove (Ps. liv, 7) in order to fly more quickly towards truth and find rest in charity? In that I have them not, lead me thy- self, Lord, in thy way, and I shall enter into thy truth and thy truth shall make me free."5
1 In Cantica, sermo XLII, 9. 2 ibid., 6.
3 De gradibus humilitatis, cap. vi ; In Cantica, ibid.
4 In Cantica, sermo XLII, 5.
6 De gradibus humilitatis, cap. ix, 26.
3o Gbrtetian Spfrftuaitty
II— ST BERNARD ON THE LOVE OF GOD
But charity does not only lend its aid to humility in order to raise the soul to contemplation ; it ought also to accom- pany it on its journey towards sanctity. If Bernard be un- stinted in his enthusiastic praise of humility, he also extols divine love. His emotional temperament, moreover, prompted him to it. If his spirituality may not be summed up wholly in charity like that of St Augustine, this highest of virtues t>ccupies a predominant place therein.1 It treats of the sources of divine love, of its motives, of the measure of it, and of its degrees, and extols in rapturous terms the mystical which unites the heavenly Bridegroom in the Canticles With the Christian soul.
The Abbot of Clairvaux has his own theory as to the birth of love in the human heart.
Love, he says, is one of the four passions of man — the others are fear, joy and sorrow. It is therefore natural and inctive: its object is man himself who loves himself for his own sake. The first love is called by Bernard a carnal (amor carnalis) by which man loves himself before all things. This love becomes social, when it extends to those of his own kind who are in need.3
This love of himself has as yet nothing that is spiritual or divine; it is entirely natural. How does it become trans- formed into the love of God? Under the stress of trial and tribulation. When man suffers he ends by turning himself rds the Lord, his necessary refuge and his only true support Assisted by grace he begins to believe in God and >ve him because of the benefits that he receives. Thus divine love is born in the soul.
•'Because we are carnal and born of concupiscence and of
* flesh says St Bernard, " our love must needs come from
HM flesh. f this love be well guided, it will gradually
,:;;* Jhe influence of grace, a spiritual love, for
vardl that which 15 spiritual (i Cor. xv 46) Man
«, j first of all, himself for his own fa'ke', for h^Ts
, ^d I is not able to enjoy anything but himself. Then,
in* .his insufficiency, he begins to seek God by faith and
'; ::;;.:is( }r, nenif,ul *$» In this second *£* <* "-
Kffl loves God, not for God's sake, but for his own."*
'-"0^0 ^^^d^ *• love of God in a latter
be diliyendo Deo can « r* r^- . wun« conception of the' source If thl 1 < ^ ** GMiS^emt 8. The
' °e1' llb- l> caP- x^, 42 {P.L., CLXXXIV, 297).
XTbe Spiritual ITeacbtng of St JSernarfc 31
This conception of the source of divine love is admissible. Birnard makes grace instrumental in transforming- that natural and instinctive affection which man has for himself and rendering it supernatural. It is therefore not human love which produces ol itself the love of God.
Hut exception may with reason be taken to the Abbot of Clairvaux lor stating, in s on the Lore of God, that
this natural, ctirruil love which man has for himself is the first step ol love. Such I lorm of expression may produce
regrettable confusion and tend to veil the distinction between lore engendered by nature and that produced by gra<
How eloquently, on the contrary, does he explain the
motives which inspire us to love G
M Who, even among the infidels, does not know that all bodily necessities, food to live, light to see, air to breathe, are only received from none other than him who gtveth food to ail flesh (Ps. (xwv, 2~,)% who maketh his sun to rise upon th* good and luid, and raineth upon the just and tfie unjust (Matt, v, 45)? Who could think, however impious he be, that this human dignity which shines within his soul has any other author than him who said in Genesis, l.tt us make man to our image and likt Gen. i, 26)? . . . God, then,
deserves to be loved for himself even by the infidel who, though he knows not Christ, knows himself and the gifts that he has received."1
The Christian will love God still more perfectly. Gratitude towards Jesus his Saviour and benefactor forces him to do SO in a special way : " Christ has given us his merits, he keeps himself for our reward; he gives himself as food for Poly souls, sacrifices himself in order to redeem souls iu captivity.8 ... In the creation, his first work, he gave me to myself; in the second, he gives himself to me."3 The perfections of the Saviour, his beauty and his loveliness, render this duty of love still more easy.*
Bernard cannot call to mind these motives for loving God without his heart being inflamed :
11 / will love thee, 0 Lord, my strength: the Lord is my firmament, my refuge and my deliverer (Ps. xvii, 1-3). Thou art for me all that is lovable and can be desired. My God, my help, I will love thee because of thy mercy as much as I am able, not as much as I should, but at least as much as is in my power. I shall be able to love thee more when thou
1 De diligendo Deo, cap. ii, 6.
2 De diligendo Deo, cap. vii, 22 : Se dedit in meritufn, se servat in praemium, se apponit in rejectione animarttm sanctorum, se in redemp- tione distrahit captivarum. St Thomas Aquinas was inspired by this passage in composing the fourth verse cf the hymn to the blessed sacra- ment, Verbum supernum frodiens.
3 id., cap. v, 15. * id., cap. iii-v.
32 Cbristian Spirituality
i my love, but I shall never love thee as much as thou deservest."1
We cannot indeed love God of our own strength; it is
necessary that God should create in us the love with which
nay love him. The Lord, says St Bernard, is at the
time the efficient cause which puts love in us and the
final cause towards which this love tends.2
to the measure of our love, it will be as limitless as God himself.1 St Bernard comments thus on the happy phrase. " the measure of loving God is to love him without measure," written by Severus, Bishop of Milevis, to St Augustine : '• Understand with what measure, or rather how without ire, God deserves to be loved. He who is so great was firtl freely and completely to love us who are so small and contemptible ! . . . Since our love concerns God, it is d with immensity, with infinity — God, indeed, is infinite and without limitation : what then, I ask you, should be the limit and measure of our love?"4 The love of God ought, then, to be developed in us un- ingly, indefinitely, since its measure is infinity itself. St ird notices four phases in this development, which may be considered as the four degrees of divine love. They corre- spond witli the divers stages of advancement in the spiritual life.
The first consists in the natural love which man has for
In the second degree, man loves God only because
e b« neiits he receives from him. He reaches it through
ense ol his impotence and of the need which he has of
istance, when he finds himself distressed. This love
tedj the beneficence alone of God is the object of it.
But, little by little, reflection, prayer and obedience to the
,: • '•■ ""nmandments bring man to the knowledge of the
"I God. When the human heart, transformed by
ted and seen that the Lord is sweet (Ps. xxxiii,
by loving God for God's sake, and thus passes
ird degree of love. Here it is the intrinsic goodness
KJ Which is the motive of loving, without, however, ex-
* hiding his bounty towards us.
1' 1-loM^ to the fourth degree of love to love God solely
or himsdl, without any thought of self-interest It is pure
•"<• of pure love, in which man constantly
' <<» God, appears to St Bernard to be im-
not know .1 any ,n;,n in tins life has perfectly arrived at the
^ Causa diUgendt I^SL^^X^j • Ut JiUgendo Dto, cap. vi 16 6 u „
Zbc Spiritual Tleacbina ot St JSevnarfc 33
fourth, in which he no longer loves himself except for God's sake. If there be anyone who has experienced it, let him say so ; for my part, I admit that it seems to me impossible. That will doubtless be brought about when the good and faithful servant shall have entered into the joy of his Lord and shall have been inebriated with the abundance of the house of God."1
It is useful to notice here a doctrine peculiar to St Bernard which occupies an important place with regard to divine love.
The object of this love may be either the humanity of Christ, with the mysteries of his mortal life, or God himself. In the first case, the love, according to St Bernard, is sensible [amor carnalis) ; in the second, it is spiritual.2
" Notice," he says, " that the love of our heart may be sensible when it has as its object the humanity of Christ ; that which Christ did or taught when he was here below specially touches our human heart. The faithful soul, filled with this love, is easily impressed with sorrow by all that reminds him of Christ. He listens to nothing more willingly, he reads nothing with greater attention, hq thinks of nothing more often, he meditates on nothing more sweetly than the life of Christ. . . . To the Christian who prays the image presents itself of the God-Man being born, fed with milk, or teaching, dying, rising from the dead or ascending to heaven. Re- minders such as these necessarily attract the soul to virtue or purify it from vice, free it from sensuality and calm its passions. For my part, I think that the chief reason which prompted the invisible God to become visible in the flesh and to hold converse with man was to lead carnal men, who are only able to love carnally, to the healthful love of his flesh, and afterwards, little by little, to spiritual love."3
It is this sensible love which St Bernard knew so well how to rouse in souls. His sermons on the different mysteries of the mortal life of Jesus, so pathetic or so tender, move the feelings to the highest pitch. They are great aids to affective piety.
As regards spiritual love, it has, as we shall see, its most noble manifestation in the mystical union of the soul with God.
1 St Bernard, like St Augustine, declares the state of pure love to be impossible here below. Only passing acts of this love are possible.
2 St Bernard again distinguishes reasonable love, which is more perfect than sensible love and less so than spiritual. It is the love which rejects all error and clings firmly to the teaching of the Church respecting Christ. In Cantica, sermo XX.
8 In Cantica, sermo XX, 6.
II.
34 Cbrtettan Spirituality
III-THE MEANS OF SANCTIFICATION— PERFEC- TION THROUGH PRAYER, EXAMINATION OF CONSCIENCE, DISCRETION AND SPIRITUAL DIRECTION
I through humility and charity that the soul is raised towa: This ascent is slow and laborious; the height
of perfection is not achieved suddenly ; it is, in fact, reached not by flying, but by climbing to the top of the mystical ladder.1 Our sanctification is truly, according to the ex- on of St Bernard, a " spiritual exercise."2 In order to accomplish this ascent, we have need to be helped, even to be carried, by prayer and meditation, which are compared to our two feet.
Let us then ascend," he says, "with meditation and
prayer for our two feet. Meditation teaches us what it is
that we lack, and prayer obtains it. Meditation shows us the
way, and prayer makes us walk therein. Finally, meditation
lets us know the dangers which threaten us, and prayer
makes us avoid them by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ."3
We must note the mutual and necessary help which prayer
and meditation give to each other. Bernard did not yet
• e our modern exercise of mental prayer, for with him
meditation and prayer remain distinct. But we see arising
from his writings the two constituent elements of our present
r, and, when circumstances demand it, they have only
to be united in one single exercise and duly regulated in order
that means of sanctification rendered classical by
St I). Loyola and St Teresa.
teaching of St Bernard on prayer is inspired by the traces of Cassian. We find therein the four kinds of
I ndreae afostoli, sermo I, 10. rmo XXV, de diversis, 4; In Circumcisione Domini, sermo III, The tame expression is found in other writings, contemporary or
lPTi nv'Jvn,8"11"'1, ThuS the Etist- ad Fr^res de monte Dei
v\\l\, 297-300) calls prayer and meditation "spiritual
tstrowi (hb. I, cap. x, 391 xi, 32; xiv, 44; lib. II, cap. iii, 17). The
S<* eUmstraltumlthd.. 475484, and P.L., XL, 997-1004, Scala Para-
mi) alto cam reading, meditation, prayer and contemplation «' spiritual
J \i* l"t0.S' *ndrta' afostoli, sermo I, 10 : Ascendamus igitur, velut
S,i JJ1 ;? teJ,bus> n'ditatione et oratione. Meditatio siqui-
'■ destt; oratxo ne desxt obtxnet. Ilia viam ostendit, ista
."!"' ; Z*j%tatt0ne Unique agnoscimus imminentia nobis fericula;
Z^MbI ?!:'?/' *raeitante Domi^o nostro Jesu Christo. See the
■vli. ar?S? r °? PrTf' ln Quadra8^ima, sermo IV-VI. Our
C!2w ifi. U$eleM : \ermo XXV» 5 ' ^mo vestrum fratres farvi-
jJu\!lj'm suam' Duo ""»' vobis quia ipse ad quern oramus
EJZ2fi?SL"m' Pr*Ui*u™ <£"»« «/ ab ore nostro, ifse scrxbi
(SXniZs JuX '"' ' W Aut dabU quod tetimus> aut !uod nobi* mmWmi "'■ ' • • Oratxo tamen in/ructuosa non erit.
XTbe Spiritual XTeacbing of St Bernard 35
prayer which the Abbot of Marseilles drew from a text in 1 Tim. ii, i : supplication, prayer, intercession and thanks- giving.1 There is nothing- of new interest to arrest our attention. The advice given as to the precautions to be taken to avoid distractions, and the necessary conditions in order that our petitions may be granted by God, have been brought to our knowledge elsewhere.
The personality of St Bernard is more apparent when he treats of meditation.
Like all the mystics of the twelfth century, he sees in it a most effective means of acquiring human knowledge, and of discerning divine teaching and becoming imbued with it.2 In this he is in perfect agreement with the school of St Victor. He recommends and lays great stress on meditation on the mysteries of the life of Christ,3 and chiefly of his Passion.4 We shall see presently with what feeling Bernard made these meditations himself, and how he could make others weep with him over the sufferings of the Saviour, and not only those of his time, but also of the generations which came after him. He speaks in language full of enthusiasm to his former disciple, Pope Eugenius 111, in the celebrated treatise De Considera- tione, of the sweetness, the consolation and the benefit derived from meditation on heaven.5
Meditation is so important in the eyes of St Bernard that he draws up a theory of it in this treatise Concerning Con- sideration. 6
St Bernard calls Consideration, as does St Victor, all seeking after truth. It is thus distinguished from contempla- tion, which is concerned with truth that has been found and is known with certainty.7 But truth may be sought either within ourselves or outside ourselves. The word considera- tion, therefore, has different meanings according- to whether it signifies reflection on ourselves or meditation on super- natural realities. In fact, St Bernard uses it in these different senses in regard to the counsels which he gives to the Pope.
First of all, he advises Eugenius to examine himself : as to his condition as mortal man, his conduct, his moral tempera-
1 Sermones de diversis, sermo XXV. Cf. Cassian, Collatio, ix. St Bernard attaches a curious etymology to the Latin word oratio, which he suggests might come from oris ratio, because when we pray our mouths speak to God. Sermones de diversis, ibid.
2 Cf. Liber de diligendo Deo, cap. iv.
3 In Nativitate B.V .M., De aquaeductu, n. * Sermones de diversis, sermo XXIX.
6 De Consideratione, lib. V, cap. iv.
6 The book De Consideratione was written from 1149 to 1153.
7 De Consideratione, lib. II, cap. ii. Cf. De Imitatione Christi, lib. II ; the expression consideration is synonymous with meditation and with reflection.
36 Cbristfan Spirituality
„„nt tad the way in which he fulfils the duties of his state.1
[»ope ought to watch over his house, the
Church, the clergy, and even schismatics and
infidels.' Hut, above all, he should meditate on the divine
truths lit should think of God in himself, in the Trinity of
i.od in his dealings with the world, who
goodness and punishes evil. He should also meditate
the angels and especially on his guardian angel.3
Bui 1 is unable to confine himself to pure theory.
akfl of the thoughts concerning God, his soul
imm ccomes inflamed, and, combining example with
precept, he himself makes the reflections which he recom-
In some wonderful pages he answers the question, Who
He touches upon the principal errors put forward
in his time on the divinity, the Trinity, and on creation. In
a word he frames his answer so as to confute such errors.
well defined idea which he gives of God is at once
i^ed to an act of love.
>ps thou wilt be surprised if we ask once again who God is, for we have already very often sought an answer, aps thou dost despair of ever knowing. Know, O Eugenius, my Father, that God is the only being that is never sought in vain, even though he cannot perfectly be famnd Thine own experience teaches thee concerning him, if it teach thee not, believe not my witness, but that of )lv man who said : The Lord is good to them that hope m, t<> the soul that seeketh him (Lam. iii, 25). Who, He is the end of the universe, he is the salva- oi the elect. . . . Who is God? He is the all-powerful will, the power full of goodness, the light eternal, the un- changeable wisdom, the sovereign blessedness. He creates : that they may share in his life, he livens them 10 k reeling, he touches them to excite their desires,
dl them that they may receive his good things, he justifies then in order that they may merit, he enkindles them il seal, he fertilizes them that they may be directs them in order that they may abide in hions them that they may be kind, he guides then that they may be wise, he strengthens them that they JJjy he I he visits them to console them, he en-
lightens them that they may know, he preserves them for ■■IB011111 s ,,lrm w»th himself in order to make them
happy, he surrounds them to watch over their safety."4
Such consideration gives a deep knowledge of divine truths ; »t is necessary to piety. Bernard goes so far as to say that
1 td., lib. II, cap. iiiiv. » ibid.
1'b. I, cap. vii-viii; lib. V, cap. iv-xiv. • U9 conttderatione, lib. V, cap. xi.
XTbe Spiritual ZTeacbfna of St Bernarfc 37
true piety consists in giving oneself up to consideration : Quid sit pietas, quaeris? — Vacare consider atione. He con- tinues to maintain the Augustinian definition of piety, which makes it consist in the worship given to God by the fervent Christian.1 For without reflection the spiritual life drifts away :
11 It purifies the mind, it then directs the motions of the soul, guides our actions, corrects our errors, regulates our morals, renders life virtuous and well-ordered and finally enables us to acquire knowledge of things divine and human. Consideration it is which unravels that which is confused, which combines that which is incongruous, which joins that which is scattered. ... It is consideration which foresees what is to be done, which reflects on what has been accom- plished, so that there is nothing left in us that has not been examined or that has need of examination. Consideration it is that in prosperity lets us foresee adversity, and in distress enables us to sustain it."2 Again, it is reflection or medita- tion which brings about that unity and magnificent harmony between the four cardinal virtues which we so admire.3
St Bernard also constantly advises Pope Eugenius and all those who have the desire for self-sanctification not to give themselves up wholly to business without interruption, but to keep a little of their time and a little of their soul for con- sideration,4 a recommendation specially applicable to present- day Christians, who run the risk of being carried away by the feverish anxiety to do something, to the great detriment of their interior life.
St Bernard, furthermore, counsels those who desire to become perfect that, together with prayer, examination and meditation, they watch carefully over their thoughts and affections that they be holy, their hands that they be pure, and their tongue that it speak no evil thing.5
He wishes also those who are novices in the religious life to have a guide to teach them, to lead them and to encourage them.6 Without this direction they are inclined to lack dis- cretion, " the mother of virtues," and to give themselves up to excess of devotion, to the injury of their health and great detriment of the religious life.7 Besides, no one is able to direct himself.
1 id., lib. I, cap. vii. * id., lib. I, cap. vii.
8 id., lib. I, cap. viii.
4 id., lib. I, cap. vii : Non totum te, nee semfer dari actioni, sed considerationi aliquid tui et cordis et temforis sequestare.
5 De diversis, sermo XVII.
• De diversis, sermo VIII, 7 : Parvulis in Christo faedagogus vobis . . . necessarius est, qui doceat, deducat, foveat vos.
7 In Circumcisione Domini, sermo III, 11 : Discretio mater virtutum est et consummatio ferfectionis : haec nimirum docet quid nimis.
38 Cbrtetfan Spfrftualfts
41 He who makes himself his own master," wrote St Ber- nard to Ogier, Canon Regular of Mont-Saint-Eloi, near Arras, " makes himself the disciple of a fool. As to this, I do not know what others think of themselves. I speak from e, and declare that, for my part, it is easier and HUef to command many others and to guide them than to rule myself alone. You have, therefore, shown prudent humility and humble prudence in recognizing your personal insufl in the matter of your salvation, and in the
determination to live under the direction of another."1
Finally, St Bernard lays down the rule to be followed in order to make wise use of those sensible consolations which Christ usually employs, as caresses, to draw hearts that still
!c to himself. We must not attach ourselves too much to these sweetnesses of devotion, which are shown rather than given to us. Many even seek them all their lives with- out ever having them. When we have them let us look forward to the time when we shall be deprived of them, and when they fail us let us think of joy experienced when we possessed them. Thus in the first case we shall not exagger- ate our joy, and in the second we shall not be saddened beyond measure.2
Francis de Sales gives similar advice. Let us repeat once more that in the writings of St Bernard we make long strides towards modern spirituality.
IV— ST BERNARD'S DEVOTION TO THE MYSTERIES OF THE LIFE OF CHRIST devotion is chiefly and admirably set forth in the for the liturgical year, or the Proper of the Season as it is now called.
The Cistercian Rule permits the abbot to give his monks
an exhortation, sixteen times at most, on the principal feasts
m year. But the eloquence of St Bernard had such a
m, his monks had such a wish to hear him, that he was
obliged to modify the custom of his Order on this point and
to preach more frequently.3 Thus he drew up a considerable
>er of sermons for the feasts of our Lord, the blessed
d many of the saints.
The sermons were preached in the chapter hall before the
noir monks and novices; the lay-brothers were preached to
separately. To this select audience, Bernard was able to
< r a more exalted form of address. Mabillon states, in
tmlJj'',*/!}*,**"' 7 : 8*Li* Sibi maS^trum constituit, stulto se disci-
ii/ulJu.^L, :llu\ im*era" " "~*» ""«« *«««
mini, str mo III, u. I In ^fimagistma. termo III, a; Qui habitat, sermo X, 6.
XTbe Spiritual Ueacbina of St Bernard 39
his preface to the Sermons of the Abbot of Clairvaux,1 that, as a rule, the Homilies of the Fathers of the Church are those parts of their works prepared least carefully, because, being addressed to the people, to whom ordinary thoughts had to be suggested within the grasp of their lack of education, they were couched in a popular style. The sermons of St Bernard, on the contrary, are remarkable for their depth and for their form. They touched upon even the most lofty questions, which only those monks that were educated were able to understand.
Abundant teaching is more especially found there concern- ing the mysteries of the life of the Saviour. Bernard does not make use of this term, which was only used in this sense later on. But he well understood that every event in the life of Christ hides some lesson and merits for us some grace. With what power does he bring out this lesson ! And in order to force us to implore the grace that corresponds with the mystery, Bernard knows how to stir up the feelings of the soul. It is in this that his sermons are chiefly remark- able. But to be properly appreciated, they should be read in the Latin text. The finest translation is powerless to bring out the freshness, the sweetness and the tenderness of the original.
In his sermons for Advent, St Bernard distinguishes a threefold coming of the Saviour into the world. In the first, he came in the weakness of the flesh in order to redeem us ; in the second, he comes to us through his spirit and his grace to be our repose and consolation ; in the third, he will appear at the end of time surrounded with glory and majesty to glorify our risen bodies.2
In order to touch the hearts of his hearers and to inspire them with grateful love for the divine Word, Bernard draws a picture of him in heaven, after the fall of Adam and Eve, offering himself to his Father as the Redeemer of the human race by means of his Incarnation :
" Our first parents, Adam and Eve, from whom has sprung all our race, became disobedient and guilty of theft, for at the suggestion of the serpent, or, rather, the devil, they en- deavoured to take from the Son of God that which belonged to him — that is, the knowledge of good and evil. The heavenly Father did not leave unpunished the insult done to his Son, for he loves him, but immediately he inflicts chastise- ment on man and lays a heavy hand upon us. All we have sinned in Adam and have been condemned in him.
M What does the Son when he thus sees his Father avenge him in such a way without sparing any of his creatures?
1 P.L., CLXXXIII, 10.
* (n Adventu, sertno Y,
4o Cbrfstfan Spirituality
• Behold,' he says, ' because of me my Father loses his
■der of the angels envied my divinity, and
i n into rebellion a multitude of his companions. My
diately chastised him, striking him and his
. ith an incurable wound and inflicting on them a
hard punishment. Man, in his turn, has desired to
:nc of knowledge, which is, undoubtedly, my own pos-
and my Father has not pardoned him and his eye
has not spared him. ... He had created two kinds of
ires gifted with reason, capable of happiness — angels
and men, and behold on account of me he has condemned
many angels and the whole human race. And so, that it may
be known that I love my Father, I desire that he receive at
my hands that which he has, in a way, lost, on account of
. . . And so I come, and desire to show myself so that
whosoever inclines towards me and desires to imitate me
will perform a good work. I know that the faithless angels
are chained to malice and evil, and that they did not sin in
ignorance or from weakness. Moreover, those who refuse
to repent must needs perish. ... On account of this, my
Father created man to take the place of the rebel angels.
But he hath not created any other creature in the
place of man, denoting by this that man may still be
redeemed. For it is the wickedness of another that has
made him fall : the charity of another may, then, uplift
him.1"1 J P
Bernard thus loves to picture the redemption as a drama in the bosom of God. His tendency to this is still more Hearly seen in the first sermon On the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin. The text of this is taken from Psalm lxxxiv, Affrry and truth have met each other; justice and peace have ktssed, as though there had been discord betwen Mercy and Truth and between Justice and Peace; a discord which the redemption had caused to cease.
I PMting man," says Bernard, " God surrounded
with these four virtues as with a vesture of salvation."
'••" ''» be his companion (pedissequa). Truth was to
struct him and Justice to guide him. Finally, he was to
loy peace both within himself, where the passions were in
•gection, and outwardly with other creatures that obeyed
rouffh sin the first man was stripped of these divine h Ml at the same time a serious breach of harmony •rose between th, virtues. Truth and Justice showed them- es the human race which ought to be
ffiSwul^S 3nd ^ °n the «»*"* * All these were gathered together in heaven in a great con- 1 In Adventu, sermo I, 4.5.
Ubc Spiritual TTeacbma of St 3Bernarfc 41
ference over which the. heavenly Father himself presided, and each one pleaded its cause. " He must be forgiven," said Mercy, " a creature endowed with reason deserves pity." — " Not so," answered Truth, " the condemnation decreed by God must be accomplished, and Adam and all his descendants must die." — " It is all over with me," replied Mercy, " if God never have pity on anyone." — ,< And with me also," said Truth, " if the sentence of death pronounced by God be not carried out."
The dispute being* thus prolonged without coming" to an understanding, a cherub suggests submitting the matter to the Son of God, to whom all judgement has been given. Mercy and Truth thus are confronted before him and begin to plead again with so much liveliness that Peace must needs intervene : "It is not seemly," says Peace, " that virtues should thus dispute." Meanwhile, the Judge, the Son of God, stooping down, wrote with his finger on the ground. Peace read out what had been written : " Truth says, ' I am lost if Adam do not die,' and Mercy replies, ' I am lost if Adam be not forgiven.' Let death become good, and both will be satisfied." At this pronouncement heaven marvels at the wisdom of the Judge and asks how the solution may be reached. The Son of God answers : M Let one on whom death has no claim die for the love of man."
Immediately Truth traverses the earth and Mercy the heavens to seek the just Redeemer ; but he cannot be found. Then says the Son of God, " Behold, I come ! This chalice cannot pass unless I drink it." He sent the angel Gabriel on earth to say to the daughter of Sion : " Behold thy King cometh." Thus was the world saved. And on the night of the Nativity, when the angels sang Peace on earth to men of goodwill, Justice and Peace did kiss.
This dramatic staging of the dogma of the Redemption made a wonderful impression on the minds of the Middle Ages. This sermon of St Bernard became embodied in the Mystery Plays as the famous " Trial in Paradise," which ended the prologue to these religious dramas.1 This is not the only case in which dramatic authors have borrowed from the works of the Abbot of Clairvaux. They also made use of his thrilling descriptions of the crucifying of Christ and the sorrows of his Mother at the foot of the cross. It was in great measure in these that they found those pathetic touches which drew tears from the witnesses of their pious tragedies.
When he speaks of the third coming of Jesus, at the end of time, Bernard only stops at the glorification, of the bodies
1 Meditations on the Life of Jesus Christ, a work of the thirteenth century wrongly attributed to St Bonaventure, reproduces this sermon of St Bernard. Ludolph the Carthusian, De vita Christi, cap. ii, also quotes it.
42 Cbrfsttan Spirftualfts
of the elect by means of the resurrection. His hearers,
•it monks, did not need to be stimulated by the terrors
he last judgement, but rather to be encouraged in the
of bodily austerities. This body which the cloister
1, which Bernard calls " the burden and prison of
the soul,"1 M the sick-bed on which we lie stretched with our
il infirmities,"2 this body will finally be raised again at
the last day.
Those who heard St Bernard had noticed with what par- tiality he loved to speak of Christmas night and the birth of It On this subject, historians tell us,3 he was inex- haustible and his loving soul gave vent to words of ineffable tenderness towards the divine Child. The mystery of Bethle- hem was revealed to him in his early youth,4 and it had ever • been the constant subject of his meditations. When, on Christmas Eve, the reader of the Martyrology in the chapter hall proclaimed the birth of Christ : Jesus Chris tus, Filius Dei, nascitur in Bethlehem Judae, Bernard to fed his soul melt, and would cry out : 11 Hearken, O heavens, and thou, O earth, give ear ! Admire and sing praises, O universe, but chiefly thou, O man ! Jtnu Christ, the Son of God, is born in Bethlehem of Must not he have a heart of stone who does not feel his soul melt at these words? What announcement can be more sweet, what more delightful can be told? Jesus Christ, the Son of God, is born in Bethlehem of Juda. O short words concerning the Word Incarnate, but how full of heavenly s ! Love burns with the desire to express
it greater length this truth, sweet as honey, but is unable to find utterance. The phrase of the Martyrology has so much ■ that it would touch me far less if an iota of it were f#f«J Christ, the Son of God, is born in Bethlehem la. O birth, full of honour for the world on account of . spotless sanctity, beloved of men on account of the great- is of the benefits which it gives, impenetrable even for the ipli on aoouni of the depth of the holy mystery which it Mderful in every way on account of its sovereign and wholly unique novelty. For there has been nothing like it before, nor will there be again. O childbirth produced •thout sorrow, without shame, without corruption; child- v>ol,«mr, but consecrating, the temple of the Mai womb O birth, higher than nature and taking place >e (food of nature, birth high above all things on account of the greatness of the miracle which it performs, but restor-
J In fialrn. Qui habitat, sermo VIII, 6
"ji'^HZadae \T'?'' sermo de ta^one Domini, 14. Hrmardt vxta frima, Ub. I, cap. ii, 4 (/>.£., CLXXXV, 229.
Ube Spiritual TlcachinQ of St Iternarfc 43
ing all things by virtue of the mystery it contains. By brethren, who shall sufficiently proclaim for us this birth?"1
The Virgin brought her child into the world without pain, as the burning bush of old threw out its flames and yet was not consumed.2 In the same way that a star sends out its luminous rays without losing its brightness, so Mary brought forth the Word Incarnate without the least harm to her pure virginity.3 The Child-God is a flower that bloomed in all its beauty without lessening the vigour of its stem.4
Bernard contemplated untiringly the divine Child in his cradle, and he makes use of every kind of tender language to express his love for him. V O little Child, desired of thy little ones I" O parvule, parvulis desiderate !
M This is not the time for us to proclaim the greatness and the glory of the Lord, for the Lord has made himself small and lovable beyond measure ; yes, it is a very little child that is born to us (parvulus utique qui natus est nobis).5 . . . Thy power, O Lord, was formerly made manifest in the creation of the world, thy wisdom in the ordering of created beings; but now thy merciful goodness is seen surpassingly in thy humanity. . . . Let thy goodness, O Lord, appear, so that man, created in thy image, may be able to imitate it ; for we cannot imitate thy majesty, thy power, or thy wisdom. . . ."6
The Abbot of Clairvaux does not weary in considering with love beyond expression M the sweet kisses given by Mary to the Child she nourished and smiled upon,"7 and u the tender- ness of the Babe's body (infantilis corporis teneritudinem)." St Bernard sees his tears and hears his wailing (parvuli vagitus et lacrymas).* The stable, the manger, the swaddling clothes, all move him to pity, and teach and edify him.
H Flee from pleasure ... do penance," he says. " It is this that the stable preaches, this that the manger pro- claims, this that is clearly told us by the Child's little limbs and taught us by his tears and wailings. For Christ weeps, but not as other children, or not, at least, as they are wont to do. It is the senses that make children weep, but Christ weeps through love. . . . Children cry because they suffer, Christ cries in compassion for us. . . . He weeps for the sins of the sons of Adam. And, indeed, later on he will pour out his blood for those who now draw forth his tears. O hardness of my heart ! O Lord, grant that as the Word has taken our flesh, so also my heart may become a heart of flesh
1 In Vigilia N ativitatis Domini, sermo I, i.
2 Super Missus est, Homil. II, 5.
8 ibid., 17. * ibid., 6. 6 In Cantica, sermo XLVIII, 3.
• In Nativitate Domini, sermo I, 2. 7 Cf. In Assumftione B.V.M., sermo I, 4. In Nativitate Domini « sermo III, i,
44 (Tbristian Spirituality
meh with pity.1 ... It is not without mysterious
reason that the Saviour was bound in swaddling clothes and
i ■ manger, for these clothes are given by the angel as
[i by which we must recognize him. . . . Thy swaddling
rd Jesus, are a sign, a sign of contradiction for
until this day. ... I recognize thee clearly, I recog-
is the Great High Priest, bound in these coarse
swaddling clothes."2
That which the infant Jesus teaches us above all things is
to be afraid of God no longer. Ever since the first man fled
presence of God and went and hid himself, we have
dreaded him. Henceforth, before the manger fear yields to
trustfulness.
" Why fearest thou, O man?" cries St Bernard. " Why thou tremble before the Lord because he comes? He does not come to judge the earth, but to save it. . . . Flee not, be not afraid. He does not come armed ; he seeks thee not to punish thee, but to save thee. And now thou must no longer say, J heard thy voice and I hid myself (Gen. iii, 10). See, this Child cannot speak, and a wailing child prompts us much more to pity than to fear. ... He has become a little Child, the Virgin his mother binds his little limbs in swaddling clothes, and dost thou yet tremble with fear? Know then well that he does not come to work thy ruin, but to save thee; he comes to free thee, and not to bind thee in chains."3
fact, everything at the Crib speaks to us of our salva- Doubtless the divine Child utters no word, but every- thing in him and around him consoles us and fills us with hope.
1 He comforted, be comforted, my people, saith your God
(Isa. xl, i). Emmanuel, God with us, repeats these words
to us. The stable proclaims it, the Crib proclaims it, his
tears proclaim it, his swaddling clothes proclaim it."4
The Word became a little child to heal our moral wounds
'is by his example to practise Christian virtue.
His humility confounds our pride; his poverty, his want, and
:w»«-rmgs are the condemnation of our refinement and
'" ' : "'-' "' pleasure. Our sickness was indeed very
serious to need such a remedy in order to heal it.5
< Bernard „ eial honour to the mystery of the Cir-
Hie Word Incarnate gave therein an
proof of his humility, he who was holiness
""tting t«> a rite instituted as a remedy for
'""I"""1 * th« human race.' He takes to himself not
\ . .. ' J
"" "I. 5- 6 U Circumcisione Domini, sermo I, i.
ttbe Spiritual fteacbing of St ^Betnarb 45
only the condition of man, as in the Incarnation, but also the condition of the sinner : Qui non solum fortnam hotninis sed for mam habet peccatoris.1
It was when he was circumcised that the Infant-God received the name Jesus. This is the real motive for St Bernard's affection for this mystery.
We know with what great love his heart was enkindled for the name of Jesus and with what sweetness he extolled it.
M My Jesus," he exclaims, " does not bear, as did his forerunners, a vain name, devoid of meaning-. There is not in him the shadow of a great name, but the reality.2 . . . When the Child which was born for us was circumcised he was called Saviour, because, in his circumcision, he began to bring about our salvation by shedding for us his most pure blood."3
The name of Jesus, like the name of the Spouse in the Canticle of Canticles (i, 2), is as oil poured out, able to heal our infirmities.
M Without any doubt," says St Bernard, M there are analogies between oil and the name of the divine Spouse, and it is not without reason that the Holy Spirit compares them one with the other. I find, for my part, that oil has three qualities : it gives light, it nourishes and it brings healing. ... It feeds the fire, it nourishes the body, it eases pain. It is a light, a food, a remedy. Notice how similar is the name of the Spouse. When it is preached it enlightens us, when we meditate on it it nourishes us, when we invoke it it eases and softens our pain. Let us, then, dwell on each one of these thoughts."4
This beautiful theme fills Bernard with enthusiasm, and he allows his burning soul to escape in words of fire, capable of enkindling for ever the piety of the faithful.
44 Whence, think you, comes the light of faith, which has shone so vividly and so rapidly throughout the world, if not from the preaching of the name of Jesus? Is it not in the brightness of this light that God has called us to his wonderful light? . . . The name of Jesus is not only a light, it is also a food. Have you not always been strengthened every time you have recalled it? What is it that satisfies the soul so much as the calling to mind of this name? What is it that invigorates once more the wearied heart, strengthens virtue, produces holy and pure morals, and inspires with chaste love? The food of the soul becomes dried up if it be not moistened with this oil; it is tasteless if not seasoned with this salt. If you write, I have no interest in your work if I read not there the name of Jesus. If you converse, if you discuss, it leaves
1 id., sermo III, 3. a id., sermo I, 2.
3 id., sermo II, 3. 4 In Cantica, sermo XV, 5.
46 dbriatian Spirituality
me indifferent if I hear not spoken the name of Jesus.1 The name of Jesus is honey to my mouth, but it is also a remedy. Which of you is in distress? Let the name of Jesus come to hil heart and from thence burst forth from his lips, and, behold, when the light of this name appears, darkness is lied and calmness restored. Should a man, fallen into ad despairing of the divine mercy, fling himself into the meshes of death— if he but invoke this life-giving name, must be not return to life? ..."
"Omy soul, thou hast enclosed within the vessel of the
name of Jesus a sure and healthful remedy, which applied to
. malady is ever effective. Let it be constantly on thy
t, let it be always at hand, so that all thy thoughts and
all thy actions may be directed towards Jesus."2
The Gospel sums up the childhood, the youth and the
adolescence of Jesus in these few words : He was subject to
them (Luke ii, 51). Jesus was obedient to Mary and Joseph.
" Who is it that obeys, and to whom is he obedient?"
: St Bernard, filled with admiration. ** It is God that
-> man ; God, I say, to whom the angels are subject, to
1 the Principalities and Powers are obedient. God
obeyed Mary, and not only Mary, but also Joseph because
Gaz< with wonder at these two things, and find out
which of the two is the more admirable, the most goodly
1 omlescension of the Son or the high dignity of the Mother.
Both astonish us, both surprise us. That God should be
Lieut to a woman is a humility without parallel, and that
■man should command God is an unequalled dignity. . . ,
rn, O man, to obey; O earth, learn thou to submit;
learn, 0 dust, to be subject. The Evangelist, speaking of
thy I reator, laya, He was subject to them — that is, to Mary
to Joseph. Blush, O proud dust ! God humbles himseli,
thou exaltest thyself. God submits himself to man, and
. in thy impatient desire to lord it over man, liftest
hove thy Creator. ... O man, if thou scorn the
of other men, surely it is not beneath thy dignity to
imitate him who created thee. . . ."3
We must s«;t a limit to the quotation of these passages,
ever < activating they may be. In traversing the delightful
oi the Sermons of St Bernard on the childhood of
tempted to delay. At every step we meet with
more and more beautiful and with more bewitching
perd
nfttriont, lib. Ill, cap. iv) regrets not to find the
name of Jesus in Cicero's Hortensius. He adds : Quoniam hoc nomen
ium misertcordtam tuam, Domine, hoc nomen Salvatoris met Filii
1 ipso adhuc lade matris tenerum cor meum fraebiberat et alte
rbaii if ouidquid sine hoc nomen /uisset, quamvis litteratum et
ex»olttum et vendtcum, non me totum rafiebat.
in Lantua, sermo XV, 6-7. » Sufer Missus ittt Homilia I, 7-8.
Ubc Spiritual Ueacbing of St JSernarfc 47
Let us end with a saintly uplifting passage concerning the silence imposed by the Word Incarnate upon himself during the thirty years of his hidden life and finally broken at the beginning of his public ministry.
" Speak now, O Lord Jesus ! How long wilt thou keep silence? How long wilt thou hide thyself? Thou hast held thy peace so long, yes, so very long, but now thou hast per- mission from thy Father to speak. How long, O Power of God, O Wisdom of God, wilt thou remain lost in the crowd like a feeble and foolish being? Until when, O noble King, O King of heaven, wilt thou suffer thyself to be known as and called the son of a carpenter? ... O humility, virtue of Christ ! O sublime humility, do thou abase our pride and vanity ! Hardly do I come to know anything, or, rather, hardly does it seem to me that I know anything, but I put myself forward imprudently, and imprudently with ostenta- tion, anxious to speak, impatient to teach others, and little inclined to listen to them. Did Christ, keeping silence so long, hiding himself for so many years, fear vainglory? What had he to fear from this, he who was the true glory of the Father? He feared, yes, but not for himself. He feared for us. . . . He warned us, he taught us. He kept his mouth closed, but he taught us by his action."1
Calvary had as great an attraction for St Bernard as did Bethlehem.
His biographers tell us that he used often to pray alone in his monastic church before a crucifix which he adored very devoutly and kissed with love. The hands of Christ were occasionally seen unfastened from the cross to embrace the fervent adorer.2 This touching scene is a lively symbol of the compassionate love with which meditation on the suffer- ings of Christ filled the heart of St Bernard.
" For my part, my brethren," he once said to his monks, 11 ever since the outset of my conversion, in the place of those merits which I knew myself to lack, I have been careful to gather for myself a bundle of myrrh and place it on my breast (Cant, i, 12), a bundle formed of all the anguish and bitterness which my Lord hath undergone, first of all his privations as a child, then his labours and preaching, his
1 In Epiphania, sermo I, 7.
2 S Bemardi vita -prima, lib. VII, cap. vii {P.L., CLXXXV, 419-420). Among the apocryphal writings of St Bernard several are found in .. which devotion to the sufferings of the Passion of Christ are particu- "^ larly remarkable : Meditation on the Passion and Resurrection of the Lord (P.L., CLXXXIV, 741-768) ; Lamentation on the Passion of Christ (769-772) ; Sacerdotal Instruction on the Passion, the Eucharist and Heaven (771-792); Liber de passione Christi et doloribus et planctibus matris ejus or De planctu Mariae {P.L., CLXXXII, 1133-1142). The influence of St Bernard is evident in all.
48 Cbrtstfan Spfrftualfts
weariness and journeyings, his watchings in prayer, his temptation after his fast, his tears of compassion, the snares oi his adversaries, his perils from false brethren, finally, the insults, spittings, blows, sarcasms and mockery, the nails and other like things, which, as the Gospel bears abundant witness, he underwent for our salvation. And among these slender stems of sweet-smelling myrrh, I have not thought fit to pass over the myrrh which was given him as drink on the cross, or that with which he was anointed for burial. He accepted the first for the remission of my sins, and by the second, he has proclaimed the future incorruptibility of my body.
"... To meditate on these mysteries is wisdom. For my part, I see in them the perfecting of justice, the fulness of knowledge, the riches of salvation, the treasures of merit. I sometimes draw therefrom a healthful draught of bitterness, and at other times a sweet oil of consolation. They sustain me in adversity, calm me in prosperity, and in the midst of the joys and sorrows of this present life they provide me with a sure guidance, since I walk in the royal way of the cross, avoiding the evils which threaten me from right and left. They gain for me the Sovereign Judge of the world. . . . Often also, as you know, are these mysteries in my mouth, and always in my heart, as God knoweth ; my pen is quite familiar with them, as is seen. My highest philosophy is to know Jesus, and Jesus crucified."1
That which touches St Bernard, above all, when he medi- tate* on the Passion of Jesus, is the extraordinary witness of love which is given therein to man.
" 1'erhaps someone may say : ' Might not the Creator have been able to restore his work, spoilt by sin, without imposing o much sorrow?' He could, no doubt, have done so, but he preferred to restore it at his own cost rather than provide mankind with the occasion for falling into the odious vice of ingratitude.2 . . . Because of his exceeding charity where- wUh he loved us (Eph. ii, 4) neither hath the Father spared Son, nor the Son himself, in order to redeem the slave. Love truly excessive, for it surpasses all measure, it exceeds Ordinary rule, it is, indeed, superior to all. Greater love than this no man hath, says Jesus, that a man lay down his life for his friends (John xv, 13). Thou hast had, O Lord, a love still greater in dying even for thy enemies. For, whilst ue w(;ic as yet thy enemies, by thy death thou hast OClled us with thee and with our Father. What love, then, has there been or will be like to this?"3
» In Cantica, sermo XLIII, 3-4. Cf. In Feria IV Hebdom. Sanctae, ttrmu Jr /'as none Domini, n ; Sermo XXII de diversis, 5. 1 In Cantica, sermo XI, 7. • In tena IV Hebdom. Sanctae, 4.
TLbc Spiritual XTeacbina of St Bernard 49
The inconceivable abasements of the Saviour in his Passion strike the Abbot of Clairvaux with a kind of stupor. He does not know how to find words to express the emotion which the sight of so much humility causes him.
11 As many have been astoiiished at thee, so shall his visage be inglorious among men, and his form among the sons of men (Isa. lii, 14). He had ceased to be beautiful above the sons of men (Ps. xliv, 3) in order to become the reproach of the world, and as a leper, the vilest of mortals, truly a man of sorrows, struck and humiliated by God so that he had no longer form or comeliness. O vilest of men, and, at the same time, most exalted ! O man humbled and yet so pre-eminent ! O reproach of men and still the glory of the angels ! There is none so great as he, and none more despised; he is covered with spittle, wearied with insults, condemned to a shameful death and numbered among the wicked. What merit does not belong to such immeasurable humility?"1
The forgiveness which Christ on the cross implores for his executioners brings the love of St Bernard to its highest point.
11 When thou didst lift up thy hands, O Lord, and thy morning sacrifice became the burnt offering of the evening . . . thou didst cry : Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do (Luke xxiii, 34). O how generously dost thou pardon ! O how immeasurable is thy goodness, O Lord ! O how far are thy thoughts from our thoughts ! O how thy mercy extends even to the impious ! How can it not be admired? Thou criest, Forgive them, and the Jews cry, Crucify him. ... O patient and compassionate charity ! That charity should be patient is enough ; that it should be beneficent is the zenith of love."2
Finally, in what moving words does the Abbot of Clairvaux express his lively compassion when he speaks of Mary, whose soul was pierced at the foot of the cross, at the hour of her Son's agony and death.
" The martyrdom of the Virgin Mary took place both when the aged Simeon prophesied, and also during the passion of Jesus. This child, the old man said of the infant Jesus, is set for a sign which shall be contradicted, and addressing himself to Mary, he added, and thy own soul a sword shall pierce (Luke ii, 34, 35). Yea, O blessed Mother, a sword has truly pierced thy soul. It is only after having pierced thy soul that the sword of the executioner pierced the flesh of thy Son. In fact, when thy Jesus had rendered up his soul — thine, too, in a special way, although belonging to all — the cruel lance, furiously attacking a body which it could no
1 id., 3. 2 id., 9.
II. 4
5o Cbrtetfan Spirituality
longer cause to suffer, opened his side, without touching his soul, which had fled, but piercing thine own. His soul was nu longer in his body, but thine was there, and was unable to tqar itself away. A sword of pain has then pierced thy soul, O Mary, so that we may rightly proclaim thee greater than the martyrs, thee whom compassion for thy Son hath made to suffer more than all their corporal pains put together.
11 Was not that word of Jesus more than a sword, piercing thv very soul even to the point of severing soul from mind? Woman, behold thy son (John xix, 26). What a change ! John is given thee instead of Jesus, the servant in place of the Master, the son of Zebedee instead of the Son of God, a man in the place of God. How must this word have pierced thy soul, when our hearts, although hard as rock and iron, become overwhelmed by it in simply calling it to mind. Let us no longer be astonished, my brethren, to be told that Mary endured a real martyrdom in her soul. Let it astonish him who has forgotten the words of St Paul, when, speaking of the crimes of the Gentiles, he says that they were void of affection. It was not thus with the heart of Mary ; grant also that it be not so with us who are her servants."1
The drama of the redemption ends with the glorious mystery of the resurrection and ascension of Christ. Ber- nard knows how to extol them in grandiloquent terms. Let us retain, by way of epilogue, this beautiful passage drawn from his second Sermon on the Ascension :
" O Lord Jesus Christ, in order to complete our faith and
to render it perfect, it remains for thee to mount up to the
highest heaven, in the presence of thine Apostles, lifting
thyself in the air as Sovereign Master of the air. Then is
it shown that thou art the Lord of all the universe, that thou
«< complished all in all, and that henceforth at thy name
knee must bow in heaven, on earth and in hell, and
tongue proclaim that thou art in glory at the right hand
of the Father. ... In consequence of which the Apostle
warns us to seek the things that are above, where Christ is
tUting at the right hand of God (Col. iii, 1). For our
in heaven, Christ Jesus, in whom are hidden all
tl,r lf' of knowledge and wisdom, for in him dwelleth
all the fulness of the Godhead corporally (Col. ii, e.)."2
ive quoted at length the Sermons of St Bernard on the
Ol the life of Christ, because they gave a new
" "" to piety. Henceforth the thoughts of faithful
religious became occupied with meditation on the principal
1 Dominica infra octav. Assumptions B.V.M. Sermo de duodecim '4 15. Ihis sermon of St Bernard inspired chapter xl of the Augus tun Midttaiiontt (P.L., XL, 941), an apocryphal work of St Kugnmtim 1.1. 1 rim! st Bernard.
In Aicemxone Domini, sermo II, 2.
XTbe Spiritual XTeacbina of St JBernarfc 51
events of the earthly life of the Saviour.1 When devotion to the rosary was fostered, it was only necessary to make use of the method of St Bernard to honour the joyful, sorrowful and glorious mysteries of the Christian religion. The mystics of the following centuries, such as St Gertrude (1303) and St Bridget (1373), were also inspired by St Bernard in writing their Revelations on the Christian mysteries. A new kind of writing, that of the Lives of Christ, came into being. The preachings of the Abbot of Clairvaux, taken collectively, form a kind of mystical biography of the Saviour. The pseudo-Bonaventure, of the thirteenth century, in his MeJitu- tiones vitae Chris ti, and Ludolph the Carthusian, in the following century, in his famous Vita Christi, were also largely inspired by them. It may be said that all the mysticism of the Middle Ages has yielded to the influence of the great Cistercian orator.
V— ST BERNARD'S DEVOTION TO THE BLESSED
VIRGIN
The Abbot of Clairvaux was a most zealous servant of Mary, a fact, perhaps, which greatly contributed to the development of devotion to her in the Middle Ages.
Posterity has conceded to him this merit. It has looked upon Bernard as Mary's " Cavalier." It is he who gave her and rendered popular the beautiful name of Our Lady,2 by which since the twelfth century Catholic piety loves to invoke the Mother of God.
Bernard has also been called the singer of Mary, citharista Mariae, literally the musician of Mary ; for it may well be called a music which he makes heard when he sings the glories of the Queen of heaven. In his time, four feasts of the blessed Virgin were kept — the Purification, the Annun- ciation, the Assumption and the Nativity. At each one of these he showed forth to his monks the prerogatives of Mary and her virtues. One of his first writings, De laudibus Virginis Matris, super verba Missus est, was devoted to the praise of the Virgin Mother.
When he celebrated a feast of the holy Virgin he was so seized with rapture that he could think of nothing else.3
1 The people in the twelfth century did not understand Latin. In order that they might read the Sermons of St Bernard, translations were made into the vulgar tongue. A translation into the dialect of Lorraine, Li Sermon saint Bernard, made at the end of the twelfth century, has come down to us. Cf. Vacandard, Vie de S. Bernard, t. i, p. 460.
% Efist. lxxxvi, 1 ; In Adventu, sermo II, 5 ; Dominica infra oct. Assump., 6, 15, etc.
8 Efist. lxxxvi, 1 : Natalis Dominae nostrae dies festus illuxerat, cujus me totum jure sibi devotio vindicans, nihil aliud cogitare sinebat.
52 Cbrtstian Spirituality
The devotion of Bernard to the Virgin Mary was proverbial
in the Middle Ages. The author of the Divine Comedy chose
rd to guide him near to the throne of Mary in
heaven, for be knew that " the angelic Queen " would gladly
me " ber faithful Bernard."1
having reached the Queen of heaven with his com-
.iid chants a hymn in her honour, which is a
i of the sermons he formerly preached on earth.2
The Bernardine Mariology is summed up in his famous
i nuns of Lyons on the Conception of Mary.
as much honour as possible," the Abbot of Clair-
vaux recommends them, " to the virginity of the Mother of
the Lord and to the holiness of her life. Admire in this
Virgin her fruitfulness and reverence her infant God. Exalt
her who has conceived without knowledge of concupiscence
and who has brought forth without pain. Praise her whom
the angels revere, whom the Gentiles desired, whom the
patriarch! and prophets foretold, who was chosen from
among all creatures and who is above all. Glorify the finder
of grace, the mediatrix of our salvation, the restorer of the
world. Finally, celebrate her who has been raised above the
rs of angels in heaven."3
The virginity and holiness of Mary, her divine maternity,
the excellence of her virtue, her role as mediatrix between
God and ourselves, finally, her glorification in the heavenly
kingdom — these are the claims of the Virgin to our praise and
•> is the first of the children of Adam who embraced
virginity [vtrginiUltis primiceria).* She is, therefore, the first
to sing in heaven the new canticle reserved for virgins.5 It
is God who directly inspired her with the thought of making
vow of virginity of which the Old Testament offers no
I he divine Word was her Master before becoming
Son.4
t Mary is higher than that of other saints. • nishing in this, for the angel bears witness Lord himself was with her?
i familiar intercourse, O my Queen, between Jesus
itly didst thou merit to be thus closely
bound to him; indeed, more, to become his intimate friend.
What signal m e hasl thou found in his sight ! He abides
thou in him. Thou clothest him, and he clothes
thee. Thou clothest him with the substance of thy flesh, and
| Fataduo Canto XXXI. t id,t Canto XXXIII.
■•'. a.
' ,n "Ira oct. Assumption's, 7.
Homil II, 1. '«' 111. 7 Cf. In Assumpt.
. B.V.M., sermo IV, 6: In Vomtnuj infra ott. Assumpt., 9.
Zhc Spiritual Geaching of St Bernarfc 53
he clothes thee with the glory of his majesty. Thou clothest the sun with a cloud, and art thyself clothed with the sun."1
Mary has been so sanctified that, according to a pious belief, she never committed any personal fault. Penitence never had occasion to penetrate her most pure heart.2 It is noticeable that this doctrine of the total exemption of Mary from all personal sin, although clearly affirmed by St Augustine, was still not regarded as certain in the twelfth century. But Bernard, full of so strong and tender a love for the Mother of God, does not hesitate to accept it.3
Why did he think it necessary to refuse to believe in the Immaculate Conception? He wrote his famous letter to the canons of Lyons to reproach them — and that in a very forcible manner — for having introduced the feast into their church. He considered it impossible for Mary to have been exempt from original sin ; she was only sanctified from her birth, he said, like St John the Baptist, but surpassingly. For she could not be sanctified before she existed, and she did not exist before she was conceived : Non valuit ante sancta esse quant esse, siquidem non erat antequam con- ciperetur. The sanctification of Mary is, then, posterior to her conception.
To this sophism there is added, in the mind of St Bernard, a false notion — an Augustinian idea — concerning the trans- mission of original sin, which as yet obscured the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception. It was thought that original sin is transmitted by the concupiscence of the parents exer- cised in the generation of the child. Exemption from hereditary sin, therefore, could not be found except in virginal conception. Now Mary was conceived according to the ordinary laws of nature ; how, then, could she be sheltered from original sin? Quomodo peccatum non fuit ubi libido non defuit?4
The perfect good faith of St Bernard is self-evident, but his error is, nevertheless, a cloud which casts a slight shadow on the reputation of this great servant of Mary. There is a pretty legend which, after his death, became current in the monasteries. At Clairvaux, St Bernard appeared one night to a very holy lay-brother in his sleep. He was clothed in brilliant whiteness, but with a black stain on his breast. The monk, very surprised and filled with sadness, said to him, M Father, what is it that I see? A black stain upon thee?"
1 In Dominica infra Oct. AssumfL, 6. Cf. Super Missus est, Horn. Ill, 2. 2 In Assumft. B.V.M., sermo II, 8.
3 Ego futo quod et co-piosior sanctificationis benedictio 'in earn descen- derit quae ifsius . . . vitam ab omni deincefs feccato custodiret im- munem, quod nemini alteri in natis quidem mulierum creditur esse donatum. Decuit nimirum Reginam virginum singularis frivilegio sanctitatis absque omni feccato ducere vitam.
4 Efist. clxxxiv, 7.
54 Christian Spirituality
M It i>," he answered, M because I wrote concerning the
m of our Lady as I should not have written, that
I bear thus a stain upon my breast, in token of my expia-
It must, doubtless, have cost St Bernard a great deal to
have to refuse to our Lady the privilege of the Immaculate
Conception, for he said that our thoughts and our words,
rer high they may be, are powerless worthily to express
her prerogatives.2
In conformity with the teaching and tradition of the Catholic Church, St Bernard connects all the spiritual gifts with which the soul of Mary was endowed with the divine maternity.
This maternity was virginal, for God could only be born of a virgin, in the same way that a virgin mother could only bring forth a God.3 Fruitful virginity is a unique privi- lege.
"If I extol the virginity of Mary," says St Bernard,
*' many other virgins that have followed her example present
themselves before me. If I praise her humility, some faithful,
perhaps fCw in number, are to be found, who, in accordance
with the teaching of her Son, have become gentle and humble
■ft If I wish to glorify the extent of her mercy, there
are merciful among both men and women. There is only
one thing in which Mary has none like her and will never
have— to taste the joys of motherhood whilst preserving her
inity."4
ry's humility as well as her virginity had a prepon-
t part in the divine maternity. Bernard here is inspired
• Augustine :
"Wonderful blend of virginity and humility in Mary!
Her soul was pleasing to God because, in her, humility gives
the prize to virginity and virginity is the ornament of
humility. I do not fear to say that without humility
even the virginity of Mary would not have pleased God.
. . If Mary bad not been humble, the Holy Ghost would
have rested on her, and if he had not thus rested, she
would not have become fruitful. ... It is then clear that
c she conceived by the Holy Ghost, as she herself says,
O0<* regarded the humility of his handmaid (Luke i, 48) still
more than her virginity. If she pleased by her virginity, it
i», nevertheless, by her humility that she conceived. It is,
J yiniliirl Vie de S. Bernard, t. ii, p. 88
tmt'ilw uf!em£'.LV'Mv' ierr° IV' ' : /V «*" gloria nee silere devotio Henke concifere cogitatioy aut inerudita
fjomil. II ,. /„ Assumft. B.V.M., sermo IV, 5. iMMPf*. B.V.M., sermo IV, 5. Cf. Super Missus est, Homk\
Ube Spiritual Ueacbing of St Bernard 55
then, true that her virginity is pleasing- to God because of her humility."1
All the other virtues, together with virginity and humility, are in the soul of Mary in an exceptionally high degree (caeteras quoque virtutes singulares prorsus invenies in Maria).2 This blessed soul is the most holy dwelling-place which the divine Wisdom has built for itself and in which it has raised seven pillars (Prov. ix, i) which represent all the virtues. Uncreated Wisdom has so filled her with grace, that this grace overflowed from Mary's soul upon her flesh in order to render it fruitful. By a special privilege the Virgin clothed with flesh and gave to the world this wisdom itself which she had already conceived in her most pure heart.3 God has truly set in Mary the plenitude of all goodness (totius boni plenitudinem posuit in Maria).4-
The merits of Mary, then, are exceptionally great, and so also must be her glory in heaven — Quantum enim gratiae in terris adepta est prae caeteris, tantum in coelis obtinet gloriae singularis.
"If eye hath not seen nor ear heard nor the heart of man understood the reward which God hath prepared for them that love him, who can tell what he prepared for his Mother, for her who, without doubt, loved him more than all others ?"5
Bernard knows not how to express himself when he speaks of the Assumption of the Virgin, the joy of the angels who receive their Queen while singing her praises, the happiness of Mary when she takes possession of her throne, and, above all, the love with which Jesus welcomes his mother.
" Is it possible to understand," he exclaims, " the glory with which the Queen of the world was surrounded when she advanced triumphantly on the day of her Assumption, the reverence and love with which the multitude of angelic legions went out to meet her, the chants they sang while they led her to her throne of glory, the joy, the calmness and the warm embraces with which she was received by her Son and placed above all creatures with the honour due to such a Mother, and in the glory suitable for such a Son to give?
" Those were sweet kisses which Mary formerly imprinted on the lips of Jesus, the child whom she nourished at hei virginal breast and upon whom she smiled ; but how much sweeter, must we not think, were those which she received from the lips of her Son, now seated at the right hand of the Father, on the day of her blessed reception into heaven, when
1 Sufer Missus est, Homil. I, 5. Cf. H07n.il. IV, 9; In Dominica infra oct. Assumft., 11-12; In Nativitate B.V.M. de Aquaeductu, 12; Tract, de moribus et offic. efisc, cap. v, 17; In Assumft. B.V.M. , sermo IV, 7-8.
2 In Assumft. B.V.M., sermo IV, 6.
3 Sermo LI I de diver sis, 4. 4 In Nativitate B.V.M., 6. 5 In Assumft. B.V.M., sermo I, 4.
56 Cbrtetfan Spirituality
she mounted her throne singing- the canticle, Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth (Cant, i, i)? Who can sufficiently proclaim the generation of Christ and the Assumption of Mary?"1
St Bernard had at heart the inspiring of his monks with a tender devotion to the Virgin, and this devotion he sums up in three principal duties — to honour the Mother of God, to pray to her with great confidence, and to imitate her virtues.
In point of honour rendered to Mary, Bernard is never satisfied. Nothing brings him greater pleasure than to speak of the merits of the Virgin Mother, yet nothing inspires him with so much fear.2 How can we praise worthily that which is not only above human language, but even higher than thought? Also, we can never venerate Mary enough. Let us take here as our model the Son of God himself, who has so honoured his Mother, in crowning her with supernatural graces and by raising her in heaven to the dignity of Queen of the world — Intueamini quanto devotionis affectu a nobis earn voluerit qui totius boni plenitudinem posuit in Maria.9
But Bernard desires us, above all, to have filial confidence in Mary. To inspire us with this he expounds at length — and with what eloquence ! — in his sermons, the doctrine of the mediation of Mary and her role in the dispensation of grace. Mary is the mediatrix between Jesus and us, between the Saviour and his Church.
Christ is doubtless the great Mediator between God and man. But we are, perhaps, afraid to go to him, for although he is man he is also God, and his humanity is somewhat absorbed by the brightness of his divinity. He is good and merciful, but he has been appointed by his Father to judge the world, and, in him, the severity of the Judge veils the clemency of the Saviour.4
It is not the same with Mary, who did not receive the empire of justice, but only that of goodness, gentleness and mercy. " Why, then, should frail humanity fear to have recourse to Mary? There is nothing severe, nothing terrible in her. She is all good, offering to all milk and wool. Examine the Gospel story with attention, and if you find there that Mary has been severe and hard or that she has shown anger, I grant that for the future you should beware of her and fear to approach her. But if, as I believe, everything about her
l In Assumpt. B.V.M., sermo I, 4.
* id., sermo IV, 5 \ Non est equidem quod me magis delectet, sed quod terreat magis, quam de gloria Virginis Matris habere sermonem.
8 Dominica infra oct. Assumpt., 1-2. Cf. Super Missus est, Homil. II. 3; In dominica infra oct. Assumpt. B.V.M., 15.
* Dom. infra oct. Assumpt., 1.
Ube Spiritual ZTeacfoing of St Bernard 57
speaks of affection, tenderness, meekness and mercy, thank God, who, in his kind compassion for you, has given you such a mediatrix in whom is found nothing- to mistrust."1
Mary has given surety for Eve. The daughter has done away with the disgrace of the mother, and has paid her debt. If, indeed, man fell through woman, it is by woman also that he has been raised.2 All creatures, moreover, have their eyes turned towards Mary, because in her and through her the merciful hand of the Almighty has remade all that he created. In Mary the angels find joy, the righteous grace, and sinners forgiveness.3
Mary is in every way our advocate. She is our advocate with Jesus, as Jesus is our advocate with the Father. The royal Virgin has been the way by which the Saviour came to us. We ought to strive to ascend towards him by the mediation of her through whom he came down to us.
" By thee," piously exclaimed St Bernard, " O blessed finder of grace, O Mother of life, O Mother of salvation, we have access to thy Son, in order that through thee we may be received by him who by thee was given. Let thy virginity justify us with him for the sin of our corruption, and thy humility which is so dear to God obtain us forgiveness for our pride. Let thy abundant charity cover the multitude of our sins, and thy glorious fruitfulness procure for us the fruitfulness of our merits. O our Sovereign, O our Media- trix, O our Advocate, reconcile us with thy Son, recommend us to thy Son, present us to thy Son. Grant, O blessed Virgin, by the grace that thou didst find, by the prerogatives thou hast merited, by the mercy thou hast brought forth, grant that he who by thy mediation has deigned to partici- pate in our weakness and our misery, may render us also by thine intercession partakers in his glory and his beatitude."4
The inexhaustible goodness of our heavenly mediatrix ought, then, to encourage us to have recourse to her with unlimited confidence. We cannot doubt her good will towards us, neither let us doubt her power. For, associated as she is with Jesus in the work of the redemption, she remains associated with him in that of the sanctification of souls. Mary is the dispenser of every grace.
Before St Bernard, the panegyrists had already caught a glimpse of this function of the distribution of grace. St Cyril of Alexandria taught that it was through Mary that M Christian Churches had been founded in the towns, villages
1 id., 2. Cf. In Nativitate B.V.M., 7.
2 Super Missus est, Homil. II, 3 : Curre Eva ad Mariam, curre mater ad filiam; ftlia fro matre respondeat, ipsa matris opprobrium auferat, ipsa patri pro matre satis jaciat : quia ecce si vir cecidit per feminam, jam non erigitur nisi per feminam.
3 In Pentec, sernio II, 4. * In Adventu, sermo II, 5.
58 Christian Spirituality
and islands . . . and that every faithful soul is saved."1 St John Damascene called the Mother of God " the dis- tributor of the good things and the dispenser of the riches <,f heaven."2 But more precise details are lacking. In the :;h century the Abbot of Clairvaux expounded this doctrine and made it popular, it may be said, throughout the rch. "It h tlit* will of God that we have all things through ." he B&ytj Sic est voluntas ejus qui totum nos habere I per Mariam.3 And, first of all, " in view of the re- ting of the human race, he put in her all the price of our option, which is Christ" — Redempturus humanum genus , prctium universum contulit in Maria.* All the graces which the Saviour has merited for us have been given us through bef mediation. She is the channel, the aqueduct (aquae- duct us) by which the divine waters reach us.5 God has made of her in a manner a heavenly reservoir of grace, super- abundant and overflowing, the overflow of which is poured upon us.6 Thus God has willed that nothing should be given us that has not passed through the hands of Mary — Nihil nos habere voluit, quod per Mariae manus non transiret.7 confidence of St Bernard is raised by this beautiful <lo< trine.
" Have recourse to Mary," he recommends. "... My dear children, she is the ladder of sinners, she is the motive of my unconquerable trustfulness, she is my whole reason for hope. What then? Can her Son reject her or suffer her to be rejected? . . . Let us then seek for grace and seek it rgn Mary, for what she seeks she finds, and she cannot red • . .8 Let us beseech the Mother of mercy (lffltfifN misericordiae) to obtain for us the grace of devotion and the fervour of charity. . . ."9
In our difficulties, in our sorrows and in our temptations, lift our eyes to heaven towards Mary, towards the mo ,,f the sea— Maria . . . maris stella. Let us again listen >t Bernard:
» llomxl. XI. /,; sanctam Mariam Peiparam (P.G., LXXVII, icm). Homil I. In Permit. B.V.M., 3 (P.G., XCVI, 701).
• In Nativitate B.V.M., 7. ' '
c V" "ativiL *-*•*•} * Cf. In Annuntiat. B.V.M., sermo III, 8; Super Mis mil. n, 7.
• In Nativitate B.V.M., 3, 4, 8, 9, etc. This sermon is called Sermo at Aquaeductu.
• In Anumft B.Y.M., sermo II, 2: Plena sibi, nobis suferflena et
Vativii. B.V.M., 6 : Si quid sfei in nobis est! si quid
'tis, ab ea noverimus redundare, quae ascendit
s offtuens. ,d.t j, Nec suo fotest „„ contenta gono> sed . _
'Wuentiam ad salutem universitatis. In \ ,£,l,a Natxvitatis Pomini, sermo III, 10 : Quia indignus eras klh.r ' m '" Uariae> «' t" Hi™ acciferes quidquid
t / .n * ln Nativitate B.V.M., 7.
In Dominica prima fast Efifhaniam, sermo II, 3.
ZTbe Spiritual tteacbina of St Bernard 59
M All you who feel that you are being tossed about in the current of this present age, in the midst of storms and tempests, rather than walking on the earth, turn not your eyes from this star if you do not wish to be shipwrecked. If the wind of temptation arise, if you should be cast upon the rock of trial, gaze on the star, call to Mary. If you are shaken by the billows of pride, ambition, evil-speaking or envy, gaze on the star, call to Mary. If anger, avarice, or the enticements of the flesh violently uplift the bark of your souls, look to Mary. If, dismayed at the enormity of your crimes, shamed by the hideousness of your consciences, frightened by the terrors of judgement, you begin to be engulfed in the abyss of sadness and the depths of despair, think of Mary. In danger, in anguish, in perplexity, think of Mary, invoke Mary. Let her be ever on your lips and in your hearts, and in order to obtain the help of her prayer do not fail to follow the example of her life."1
To imitate Mary, to follow her example, is, together with prayer, the best means of securing her protection.
" When we follow her we do not lose the way, when we pray to her we do not despair, when we think of her we do not wander. When she holds us we do not fall, when she protects us we fear nothing, when she guides us we do not weary, when she is favourable we reach the harbour."2
In the enthusiasm of his filial confidence Bernard does not hesitate to throw down this challenge :
11 Let him never more speak of thy mercy, O blessed Virgin, who has invoked thee in his necessities without receiving thy help " — Sileat misericordiam tuam, virgo beata, si quis est qui invocatam te in necessitatibus suis sibi meminerit defuisse.3
In St Bernard's beautiful homilies are found a great number of prayers addressed to Mary ; the highly emotional piety of the holy orator did not allow him to speak for long without expressing directly to the Virgin whom he loved so much the feeling which overflowed in his heart. These pious upliftings, more or less paraphrased, have become prayers that are universally used in the Church. The most famous is the Memorare or Remember, O Virgin Mary.4 It is not
1 Super Missus est, Homil. II, 17. ■ ibid.
3 In Assumpt. B.V.M., sermo IV, 8.
4 The Memorare, as we now have it, was not composed by St Bernard. But it is inspired from his homilies, chiefly from the opening of No. 8 of the Fourth Sermon on the Assumption, and from the passage Jam te, Mater misericordiae in the middle of No. 15 of the Sermons for the Sunday within the octave of the Assumption. Cf. Vacandard, Vie de S. Bernard, t. ii, pp. 96-97. The phrase Inviolata, integra et casta Mariae viscera {In Adventu, sermo II, 4) brings to mind another well- known prayer to the blessed Virgin.
60 CbrfBtfan Spirituality
to say all that the Marian euchology owes to the Abbot
It would be necessary to trace the pious
formulas with which his heart was inspired and which passed
by word of mouth for several generations until the time when
became fixed in a hymn or prayer in honour of the Virgin.
VI— ST BERNARD'S DEVOTION TO THE GUARDIAN ANGELS
In the twelfth century no one doubted the help which Chris- received from guardian angels,1 but so far Christian piety had hardly directed its attention to the subject.
The Abbot of Clairvaux, in homilies that have remained famous,2 expounded with love and precision the ministry of the good angels in our regard, and also our duties towards them. He thus gave an impetus to devotion to the guardian angels, which only increased as time went on.
ording to St Bernard, the Church herself is guarded
the angels : 0 mater Ecclesia . . . custodes tui angeli
sand: i more, each Christian edifice, each church, is
entrusted to the care of the angels.4 The heavenly spirits,
Moir, blend with the psalmody of the monks.5
But it is the guardian angels who principally claim the earnest attention of the Abbot of Clairvaux.
God, in his infinite goodness to us, has given us angels to protect and assist us.
M Lord, what is man" exclaims St Bernard, " that thou art made known to him? or the son of man that thou makest ■ of him? (Ps. cxliii, 3). Thou hast sent him thine only Son, thou hast given him thy holy Spirit, thou promisest him tin glory, and, so that nothing may be lacking in thy care for us, thou hast sent the angelic spirits to help us, charging them to protect us, ordering them to be our guides. ' » admirable goodness of God ! O love truly wonderful ! . . . The Most High has commanded the angels, his angels, those sublime spirits so happy and so near his throne, his familiar and, we may say, his intimate friends. He has given his angels charge over thee. Who art thou, then? Lord, what is man, thai thou art mindful of him? (Ps. viii, 5). . . . And what has he ordered them on thy account? ... To protect thee."*
* ( lib. II, dist. XT {P.L.t CXCII, 673
-rum. tract. II, (ap. vi (P.L., CLXXVI, 88 ft.). Ilrrnard writes : Si ftdem eonsulas, ea libi angelicam frobat frae- lenham non dees,. In ps. Qui habitat, ttrmo XII, 6 ' In fsalm. Qui habitat, sermones XI -XIV. 1 /• Contti : 1 v
sermo IV, 2-3. I ?>''' l"™*! ^Sugtrium Abb.t 6; In Cantica, sermo VII, 5-7.
• In psalm. Qus habitat, sermo XII, 3.5. 3
Zbc Spiritual TTeacbing of St Bernard 61
The guardian angels constantly surround the souls of the faithful with their care.1 They console them in their sorrow; they watch with deep attention and great charity over their interest — Benigni siquidem sunt atque extenti in charitate . . . sedula circa nos et curatn gerentes nostri.2 They have a great desire to lead us to the heavenly glory which they themselves possess. They defend us unceasingly against the devil and protect us from his attacks — Adsunt ut protegant, adsunt ut prosint. They are the intermediaries between God and us; they lay our fears before him, they offer him our vows and our prayers, and in return they bring us his grace and his gifts.3 The faithful soul, in gratitude for so many benefits, owes his guardian angel respect, love and con- fidence. He should also constantly invoke him :
" God hath given his angels charge over thee: to keep thee in all thy ways (Ps. xc, n). How these words should inspire thee with respect, love and confidence. ! With respect for the presence of thine angel, love for his goodness, trustfulness in his care. . . . Wherever thou dost dwell, into whatsoever corner thou dost retire, have great respect for thine angel. Wouldst thou dare in his presence to do that which thou wouldst not do before me? Dost thou doubt his presence because thou dost not see him? . . . All that exists, nay, even all which is bodily, is not seen; for how much greater reason, then, do spiritual realities escape our senses, and need to be sought by the mind? If thou acceptest those things that are of faith, they prove to thee that the angels are present with us. ..."
" Since God has given them orders in our regard, let us not be ungrateful to the angels who execute them with so much charity, and assist us in our needs, which are so great. Let us be filled with devotion and gratitude towards such guardians. Let us love them as much as we can and as we ought. . . . Let us love the angels of God, my brethren, as the future joint heirs with us in heaven, and as actually our guides and protectors, appointed by God, and our leaders. . . .
11 Although we may be but little children, and the way that remains for us to pass over before we reach salvation be very long, and not only very long but also full of danger — for all that, what is there for us to fear, who are guided by such guardians? It is impossible for them to be overthrown or
1 In Cantica, sermo XXXIX, 4-5. Cf. De Consideratione, lib. V, cap. v, 12 : Angelus . . . cu?n anima . . . ut contubernalis animae inest.
a In Cantica, sermo XXVII, 5. Cf. In festo S. Michaelis, sermo I,
3-4-
3 In Vigiha Nativttatis Domini, sermo II, 5-6; In Cantica, sermones XXII, 5; XXXI, 5.
62 Cbristian Spirituality
seduced, still less for them to seduce us, they who keep us
They are faithful, they are prudent, they
powerful; wherefore fear? Let us follow them, let us
footsteps, and we shall thus abide under the
n of the God of heaven. , . .
dsl thou foresee a grave temptation or fear a great
okfl thy guardian, thy guide, thy refuge in oppres-
■od in distress. Call on him and say, ' Lord, save us,
i ish.' He does not sleep, he does not slumber. ...
O my brethren, may your guardian angels be your intimate
singly with those who, when you often think
am and devoutly pray to them, guard and console you
v moment."1
IS pious homily, which the Church makes us read in the 00 October 2, has nourished, and will continue Baitd) to nourish, the devotion of the faithful towards th<- holy guardian angels.
VII— ST BERNARD AND ST JOSEPH Si JOttMI, in the twelfth century, was not as yet the object . devotion. In accordance with the point of view of the ol the Church, he was looked upon as a personage . -lament. Did he not die before the redemption was accomplished and the new law was established? His praised in the same way as those of Abraham, Jacob and Moses. St John Chrysostom, in particular, com- posed very eloquent homilies on the obedience of Joseph and ibmj lion to the dictates of Providence and his devotion to thfl Hot) Family.* But we nowhere find that the foster- Christ was given honour or prayed to by the Liithiul.
m to direct thoughts and hearts towards
h, by putting in prominent relief all his
his virtu-
I, be said, honoured Joseph in the highest way by
willr be should be known as, and believed to be, the
This title and the responsibilities that it
lv patriarch to the highest dignity3 and
OH lus faithfulness and prudence.
doubt thai be was a good and faithful man,
/hom the Mother of the Saviour had been
Faithful and prudent servant, 1 say, whom the
tod as tl,c supporter of his Mother, as the one
1 In ftalm. Qui habitat, termo XII, 6-10. I Matthaeum. tf Mtuit, est, llomil. II, 16; Conjict . . . ex hac affellatione, neruit (Joseph) honor an a Deo, ut pater Dei et />ru/>no vocabulo (ouoJ au^mentum n*m Jubttji inter frelan) quit et quails homo fuit lite Josef n.
Ube Spiritual XTeacbina of St Bernarfc 63
to rear his body, and finally the one single man on earth who had been chosen to carry out the plans of his great resolve."1
Joseph was M the faithful guardian of the virginity of the Mother of his God." He reared the child Jesus and pre- served him, " not only for himself but for the whole world " by withdrawing him from the anger of Herod. He was the " confidant of heavenly secrets" concerning the Incarnation. Is he not greater than Joseph of old who fed the Egyptians?2
The holy Spouse of Mary is of the race of David, whose virtues he possesses.
" He is wholly the son of David," says St Bernard, M not only according to the flesh, but by faith, by holiness, by piety. . . . Joseph, to whom, like another David, the Lord hath made manifest the uncertain and hidden things of his wisdom (Ps. 1, 8) and willed that he should know a mystery which no prince of the time knew ; to whom it was given to see and to hear him whom many kings and prophets had desired to see and hear. It was given him not only to see and hear him, but also to carry him, guide him, embrace him, kiss him, rear him and protect him."3
St Bernard does not invite us to do honour to Joseph nor to pray to him. But he lays down principles which must soon prompt Christian piety to do so. If the greatness of St Joseph be such, if his virtues be so perfect, his influence in heaven must also be great. Why, then, not pray to him? Why leave in the shade one who took so considerable a part in the mysteries of the childhood of Christ? These conclu- sions were fully brought to light in the fifteenth century by John Gerson and by St Bernardine of Siena, and, in the six- teenth by St Teresa. Devotion to St Joseph after this could not do otherwise than increase, until its full expansion in the nineteenth century.
VIII— ST BERNARD'S MYSTICAL THEOLOGY
This is to be found, above all, in the Sermons on the Canticle of Canticles.
In the twelfth century, the Canticle of Canticles had many commentators. This book, indeed, provided a wonderful theme for mystical thought. The love of King Solomon for the Sulamite, his bride, is an expressive and graceful symbol of the love of God for the soul raised to the mystical state.4 Moreover, the writers of the twelfth century, for whom
1 ibid. * ibid, * ibid.
4 It is not for me to deal here with the literary criticism and exegesis which have arisen in connection with the Canticle of Canticles. It is enough to state that this inspired book is symbolical. It expresses the love of God for the Christian soul, and the love of Christ for the Church, his mystical Spouse.
64 Cbristian Spirituality
realities only counted in so far as they held hidden some
divine teaching, were passionately attached to the great
.s\mbolism of the most excellent of Canticles.
' Hoooriua of Autun wrote a commentary on this book, " of
which the whole world is speaking," he says, " and few
understand."1 Richard of St. Victor, in his commentary,
very clearly explained that if the Canticle of Canticles
contains words expressing carnal love, it is with a view to
ng us to divine love. The violence of this natural love
teaches us what should be the fervour of our love for God.2
The historians of St Thomas Aquinas tell us that his
disciples, at the end of his life, begged him to explain to
them the Canticle of Canticles.3
At this period, moreover, it was expected of every writer with any claim to distinction that he should write a com- mentary' on this wonderful book, which was attracting so much attention.
William, Abbot of St Thierry, near Rheims, a disciple of St Bernard and his first biographer, visiting Clairvaux in order to recover from a long illness, expressed to his master, who was also ill, a desire to hear him explain the divine Canticle.4 Bernard then began — it was about 1128 — in private conference with his friend, his commentary. He was to develop it later and give it to his monks in eighty-four sermons. He died, in 1153, before having completed his work. Another of his disciples, Gilbert de Hoy, Abbot of Swinsed in the Diocese of Lincoln (1172), continued the com- mentary, without himself reaching the end of the Canticle.5 It is because these orators, above all St Bernard, allowed themselves to be carried away by their eloquence and could not end. The Abbot of Clairvaux extemporized his sermon after having meditated on the text to be explained. On the spur of the moment it often happened that he abandoned his subject in order to develop a thought that came into his mind. ■ rmons on the Canticle also touch upon divers points in piritual life, the monastic state and even the sacerdotal ministry.
1 Exfositio in Cantica Canticorum {P.L., CLXXII, 347).
1 In Cantica Canticorum Explicatio, frologus {P.L., CXCVI, 405).
• Gulielmus de Thoco, O.P., Vita S. Thomae Aquinatis, cap. x; Acta Sanct. Martii, vol. i, p. 675, Paris 1865.
« S. Bernardi vita, lib. I, cap. xii, 59; Migne, P.L. CLXXXV, 259.
William of St Thierry made a summary of part of the Sermons of
St Bernard on the Canticle of Canticles {P.L., CLXXXIV, 407-436).
He also wrote a treatise on the love of God and on contemplation {P.L.,
;, 379-4o8; 365-380).
•Strmones in Canticum Salomonis {P.L., CLXXXIV, n-252). Thomas the Cistercian, who lived at the end of the twelfth century, left a wordy commentary on the Canticle of Canticles {P.L., CCVI, 21-863). Cf- ^n- de Visch, Bibliotheca scri-ptorum ordinis cisterciensis, Douai 1649.
Gbe Spiritual XTeacbing of St J3ernarfc 65
St Bernard's ideas on the Canticle of Canticles are the same as those of Richard of St Victor. The Abbot of Clair- vaux often corresponded with the monks of St Victor, and was in most things in perfect agreement with them in opinions.
The purely spiritual and allegorical sense of the book, in keeping with all the rest of their contemporaries, is the only one that they accept.1 The Canticle is a little poem, a kind of mystical drama.
14 We see represented there," says Richard of St Victor, " four personages or groups of personages which speak in turn — the bridegroom, the bride, the companions of the bride (adolescentulae), and the friends of the bridegroom. The bride is assuredly the Church ; the bridegroom is Christ ; the companions of the bride are those souls which enter into the spiritual life, and who, after a new development, become marriageable (pubescentes) ; the friends of the bridegroom are either the angels who dwell with him, or else perfect souls who are in the Church and who have known how to declare the truth to mortals. But the companions of the bride and the friends of the bridegroom are also the bride, because they form part of the Church. . . . Indeed, the soul which loves God perfectly is his bride."2
Nevertheless, the rank and dignity of bride of Christ are not bestowed at once. A preparation is needed.
" One who has newly entered into the way of happiness," adds Richard,3 " is a companion of the bride. Let us strive to become the bride. If we are not yet able, let us at least be the friends of the bridegroom, and, if that be still too much for us, let us gather together near the nuptial bed. For, as we have said, the bridegroom and the bride are Christ and the Church. Let us imitate the friends of the bridegroom and the companions of the bride, let us listen to the words of the bride and learn from their discourse to increase in the fervour of love."
This interpretation of the Canticle, common in the twelfth century, is that of St Bernard. According to him also the bridegroom is Jesus, the bride is the Church and the fervent soul, the companions of the bride are those souls, still imperfect, which aspire to the rank of brides, the friends of the bridegroom are the angels.4 Before becoming a bride it is necessary to begin by being the companion of the bride; the exercises of asceticism, in fact, must precede the sweetness of mystical union. In his commentary, the Abbot of Clair- vaux also deals fairly often with Christian mortification, with
1 St Bernard, In Cantica, serm. LXIII, i; LXXV, 2; LXI, 2; XXXII, 1. Richard of St Victor, In Cant. Cant., frologus.
2 Richard of St Victor, ibid. 3 ibid.
* St Bernard, In Cantica, serm. I, 8; VII, 8; XIV, 5.
II 5
66 CbrtBtian Spirituality
the destruction of vice and the development of virtue, in a word, with that which the companion of the bride must do in order to become herself a bride and enjoy the mystical embrace of the bridegroom.1
The mysticism of St Bernard is not presented in synthetic
form I pounded in an oratorical way. It is, moreover,
IckntiSc but essentially practical.
Contrary to that of St Augustine and of the pseudo-Diony-
\jC m litis, the iuoplatonic theories are wholly absent, as likewise
c « r^ is scholastic philosophy. The Abbot of Clairvaux speaks of
tfl according to his personal experience and that
of the monks whose confidences he had received. He adapts
rxperience in his commentary on the Canticle of Canticles,
the allegorical interpretation of which he accepts, as it was
everywhere adopted in his time. His mysticism, therefore,
i* purely and simply his own. It is this which adds to its
rest.
:iard first speaks of the preparation for mystical union through spiritual love, and then endeavours to describe union itself.
According to the particular views of the Abbot of Clair- vaux, mystical love passes through three phases. In the first it is sensible — carnalis — that is to say, it has for its object the humanity of Christ and the mysteries of his mortal This sensible love, in its progress, becomes rational — s the second phase — by becoming absorbed in the teach- of the faith concerning the Saviour and by rejecting all Finally, it becomes spiritual when it has as its object God himself.2
We are aware of the great importance which this sensible
love had in the spirituality of St Bernard, and how it wholly
devotion to the mysteries of the mortal life of
Is it not this love, above all, which nourishes affec-
n whit h the Abbot of Clairvaux so excelled?
A d yrt this sensible love, which attaches itself to the
humanity of Christ, is considered as an inferior love, as a
Udder by which we are raised to spiritual love.3 It is because
man can only approach the spiritual through the sensible that
he begin* by loving the body of Christ.
•.,'* continues St Bernard, "although this devo-
t Bernard expounds his mystical theology by commenting on the LmnttfU v! He thus makes use of daring expressions and
lmJi"; True mystics, holy persons, are dead to thi life of the
' ! H. , x violence of divine love which
consumes them by the aid of comparisons the startling nature of which Migbt occasionally surprise the prut » In
■»>■' \l, j: Obtultt carnem safientibus carnem, per quam dttartnt uxftre et tpiritum.
Uhc Spiritual ZTeacbing ot St HBernarfc 67
tion to the humanity of Christ be a gift, and a great gift, of the Holy Ghost, the love which inspires it is none the less sensible (carnalem tamen dixerim hunc amor em), as com- pared with that other love which is not so much connected with the Word made flesh as with the Word of Wisdom, the Word of Justice, the Word of Truth, the Word of Holiness."1
St Bernard admits that in the beginning of his conversion sensible love alone could move him. And even long afterwards he was filled with shame that someone who was dear to him touched him more than the thought of God.2 But he strove with all his strength after spiritual love which has no longer the humanity of Christ as its object, but his divinity, and this love alone is able to bring about mystical union.
Cassian, in the fifth century, also taught that those who are raised to perfect prayer no longer contemplate, at the moment of union, the humanity of Christ, but " that they contemplate his divinity with most pure eyes " — Mi purissimis oculis divinitatem ipsius speculantur.3 He thus interprets the following text of St Paul : Wherefore henceforth we know no man according to the flesh. And if we have known Christ according to the flesh: but now we know him so no longer (2 Cor. v, 16). 4 Mystical contemplation, then, should not have as its object the humanity of Jesus. It unites the soul to God to the exclusion of everything else. Mystics are practically unanimous on this point.5 When St Bernard describes mystical union, he does not speak of the humanity of Christ ; it remains an object of sensible love. For, he says, this union is wholly spiritual.
" Be careful to think of nothing corporal or sensible in this union of the Word with the soul. Let us call to mind here what the Apostle says, He who is joined to the Lord is one spirit (i Cor. vi, 17). The rapture of the pure soul in God or the holy entrancement of God in the soul is expressed by us as best we can in our poor words, comparing spiritual things with spiritual (1 Cor. ii, 13). It is in the spirit that this union takes place : In spiritu fit ista conjunctio, because
1 id., sermo XX, 8. 2 id., sermo XIV, 6.
8 Collatio X, de oratione, cap. vi (P.L., XLIX, 826-827).
* Cassian (De Incarnatione Christi, lib. Ill, cap. iii] interprets this text differently : " We no longer know Christ according to his flesh weak and mortal, but according to his flesh spiritualized and absorbed by the divine Majesty " (P.L., L, 52-54). But he does not say that the humanity of the risen Christ may be the object of mystical contem- plation.
5 It is only at the actual moment of mystical contemplation that the humanity of Christ is excluded. At other moments mystics ought to perform their duty towards the humanity of Christ. There exists no spiritual state, however perfect it may be, in which the humanity of Christ ceases to be the necessary means of approaching God. Cf. Bo9suet, Instruction sur les itats d'oraison, eecond treatise, chap, ix ff., Paris 1897.
68 Christian Spirituality
God is ■ spirit and because he is enamoured of the beauty of a sou C finds walking according to the spirit and not
following ires of the flesh, and, above all, wholly on
fire with divine love.1
When the soul after being completely purified is solidly established in spiritual love, it is able, if called by God, to be raised to mystical union. It is nubile: Ad nubiles quodam modo pervenerit annos ;3 it becomes the bride of the Word, rboque maritatam; it contracts with him a spiritual marriage, spirituale matrimonium.A
«• H ached this degree of love, the soul may venture
to think of spiritual marriage. And why should it not? It
is so much the more nubile as it sees itself the more like God.
That soul that is brought near to him by resemblance, united
to him by love, and whom the bridal state marries to him, is
1 of the greatness of the bridegroom. . . . When,
then, you see a soul, having left all, united to the Word,
g by the Word, guided by him, conceiving through the
Word what it should bring forth for him (de Verbo concipere
quod pariat \'erbo)> one who is able to say, For to me to
live is Christ and to die is gain (Phil, i, 21), know that that
ride of the Word and that it has contracted a
tual marriage with him."5
St Bernard makes use of most forceful images from the
\c\e of Canticles in order to describe this extraordinary
union of the holy soul with God.
Like all spiritual writers, he teaches that this union is
hi ftboul by love which has reached such a degree that
t the Christian is fully identified with the divine will :
- k h conformity with the divine will marries (maritat)
the soul to the Word, to whom it is like by its spiritual
nature, and to whom it is not less like by its will, loving him
by him. Then, if it love perfectly, it is a bride.
What is there sweeter than this conformity of wills? What
than that love which makes thee, O soul,
with the teachings of men, to go with confidence
I Word? Thou remainest united with him, thou dwellest
1 /'< trrmo XXXI, 6. St Bernard always speaks of the Word,
and not < 4 nnection with mystical union. St Augustine
and Ihonysius also speak of God and not of Christ.
srrmo LXXXVII, 2. St Bernard clearly teaches the ••cattily of a special call in order to be raised to mystical contempla- tion : " Oaulttur me osculo oris sui." Ac si diceret : ego non viribus nan meritis ad contemplanda gaudia Domini mei • £trt valeo; ted ipse " osculetur me osculo oris sui " ; id est ejus ' , non fer doctrinam, non per naturam, sed per gratiam suam * ottulelur mt osculo oris sui."
• /«• Cmu . 12.
• td.t urmonr \ , l2> ,3. LXXXIII, 3.
"*oLXXXV, 12. ^
ITbe Spfdtual XTeacbfn^ ot St Bernarfc 69
familiarly with him, thou consultest him on all things, daringly desirous of knowing as much as thy intelligence is able to understand. This contract of marriage is always spiritual, always holy. To say contract is not enough, it is an embrace (complexus), a veritable embrace, in which the identification of the two wills makes of the two minds one only same thing."1
This identification, brought about through love, renders everything common between the Word and the soul, as between bride and bridegroom, " who have nothing belong- ing to them singly, but who have one and the same table, one and the same bed, and also one and the same flesh."2 The soul may truly say with the bride in the Canticle of Canticles, however bold it may seem, My beloved to me and I to him (Cant, ii, 16).3
Such is the state of the soul raised to the dignity of the bride of the Word, and most closely united to him.
It remains for us to speak of the extraordinary and super- natural manifestations of this union which usually accom- pany his spiritual marriage with the soul, and which are, in the words of the Canticle of Canticles, like the kisses of the bridegroom. By this is meant mystical contemplation, rapture and ecstasy.
St Augustine, raised to the mystical state, passionately desired to see God and to contemplate him. The bride of the Word, according to St. Bernard, also ardently sighs after the kiss of the bridegroom : " Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth (Cant, i, i) she says. Who says this? The bride. What bride? The soul who has a burning thirst for God. . . . She asks for neither freedom, reward, in- heritance any more than knowledge, but for a kiss. . . . Notice the urgency of her request. She begs a great favour from a high personage, yet does not make use, as in the ordinary way, of flattering words and roundabout speeches. No preamble, nothing in the way of ingratiation, but in fulness of her heart, in all freedom and daring, these words suddenly burst forth, Let him kiss me with the kiss of his mouth."4*
Then is the soul brought into the chamber of the King, into that mysterious retreat in which she is wholly retired within herself. All intercourse between her and the outer world is suspended. There is perfect tranquillity within and about her — Tranquillus Deus tranquillat omnia.
M If perchance anyone among you," said Bernard to his
1 In Cantica, sermo LXXXIII, 3.
2 id., sermo VII, 2. Cf. sermo XLVI, 4.
8 id., sermo LXVIII, 1, 2. St Gertrude spoke of the spiritual marriage in similar terms {Revelations, Book IV, chap, xxix, etc.). * In Cantica, sermo VII, 2.
to Cbristfan Spirituality
monks, " has been drawn into this secret place, this sanctu- ary of God, and hidden there for one hour in such manner a* neither to be in any way distracted, nor disturbed by the nerds of the senses or' the sting of anxiety or the remorse of conscience, nor, which is still more difficult, by the phantom isible images; such an one when he will have returned l will be able to glorify himself and to say, The king kaih brought me into his storerooms (Cant i, 3)."1
St Augustine, the pseudo-Dionysius, and all the mystics
describe this suspension of the faculties of the soul at
the moment of ecstatic contemplation. The soul is so wholly
bed that it is oblivious to what is going on around it.
All activity is concentrated on God who is possessed within it.
It is, indeed, this sensible possession of God in the soul,
flooding it with joy, in which lies the essential manifestation
of mystical union. It is the kiss of the bridegroom. St
Bernard makes an attempt, in halting words, to show us
something of the bride thus reposing in the arms of the
bridegroom :
11 / adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem . . . that you <tir not up, nor make the beloved to awake till she please (Cant, ii, 7). The heavenly Spouse, in his ardent desire not to disturb the repose of his beloved, leaves her to sleep in mbrace, and suffers nothing to interrupt this most sweet slumber. I cannot contain myself for joy at the sight of the divine majesty deigning to stoop to our weakness in so familiar and delightful a union, in which the supreme God marriage with the soul exiled here below and to bear witness to that love towards her with which smitten. Thus, I doubt not, thus is heaven ! I read in holy Writ — and the soul, the bride of Christ, realizes the whole truth of these words — that it is impossible to express the happiness that is experienced there. But the soul is also able of telling the joy that she feels now united to the 'room. What more shall that soul receive, I ask you, that bere below enjoys God so familiarly that she feels herself fed in his embrace, warmed on his breast, and so care- fully guarded lest her sleep be broken before she awake?"3 Hut if the bride sleeps, her heart watches (Cant, v, 2). sleep of th< and the imagination is ecstasy —
r\t (juae tamen sensum non sopiat sed abducat. Proitlde et ego non absurde sponsae ornvcrim mortem (Warn).3 The mind of the bride re. It i an interior brightness which
Hi it — VitaUi vigUqu* sopor sensum interiorem illu- it to acquire an extended knowledge of
1 In III, 16. Of. srrmo XLV.
• In Cantica, sermo LI I, a. 8 ibid., 34.
« ibid.,
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TLhc Spiritual Treacbing of St 33ernarfc 7*
Christian mysteries.1 St Augustine and the pseudo-Dionysius also said that in contemplation the truths of faith are shown to the soul with so great certainty that it is impossible to doubt them.
This activity of the mind is occasionally raised to a state of paroxysm ; the divine light becomes superabundant and the vision of God takes place. This vision is produced without the help of the imagination, which remains completely in- active.2 It is of short and rapid duration, like lightning — Cum autem divinitus aliquid raptitn et veluti in velocitate corusci luminis interluxerit tnenti spiritu excedenti.3
We here again find that famous contemplative vision of God of which St Augustine and the pseudo-Dionysius spoke so much. But St Bernard does not picture it in their way.
As opposed to their teaching, he believes that </