April 30, 2013 Tuesday: 5th Week of Easter C
"In my Father's house there are many dwelling places"
I had always wondered why it was that God has his preferences,
instead of giving each soul an equal degree of grace... Jesus has been
gracious enough to teach me a lesson about this mystery, simply by holding
up to my eyes the book of nature. I realised, then, that all the flowers he
has made are beautiful; the rose in its glory, the lily in its whiteness,
don't rob the tiny violet of its sweet smell, or the daisy of' its charming
simplicity. I saw that if all these lesser blooms wanted to be roses
instead, nature would lose the gaiety of her spring tide dress-there would
be no little flowers to, make a pattern over the countryside. And so it is
with the world of souls, which is his garden. He wanted to have great
Saints, to be his lilies and roses, but he has made lesser Saints as well;
and these lesser ones must be content to rank as daisies and violets, lying
at his feet and giving pleasure to his eye like that. Perfection consists
simply in doing his will, and being just what he wants us to be. This, too,
was made clear to me: that our Lord's love makes itself seen quite as much
in the simplest of souls as in the most highly gifted, as long as there is
no resistance offered to his grace. After all, the whole point of love is
making yourself small; and if we were all like the great Doctors who have
shed lustre on the Church by their brilliant teaching, there wouldn't be
much condescension on God's part, would there, about coming into hearts
like these? But no, he has created little children, who have no idea what's
going on and can only express themselves by helpless crying: he has made
the poor savages, with nothing better than the natural law to live by; and
he is content to forget his dignity and come into their hearts too - these
are the wild flowers that delight him by their simplicity. It is by such
condescension that God shows his infinite greatness. The sun's light that
plays on the cedar-trees plays on each tiny flower as if it were the only
one in existence; and in the same way our Lord takes a special interest in
each soul, as if there were no other like it.
Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus (1873-1897), Carmelite, Doctor of the Church
Autobiography of a soul, Manuscript A, 2r°- 3r° (trans. Ronald Knox)
I had always wondered why it was that God has his preferences,
instead of giving each soul an equal degree of grace... Jesus has been
gracious enough to teach me a lesson about this mystery, simply by holding
up to my eyes the book of nature. I realised, then, that all the flowers he
has made are beautiful; the rose in its glory, the lily in its whiteness,
don't rob the tiny violet of its sweet smell, or the daisy of' its charming
simplicity. I saw that if all these lesser blooms wanted to be roses
instead, nature would lose the gaiety of her spring tide dress-there would
be no little flowers to, make a pattern over the countryside. And so it is
with the world of souls, which is his garden. He wanted to have great
Saints, to be his lilies and roses, but he has made lesser Saints as well;
and these lesser ones must be content to rank as daisies and violets, lying
at his feet and giving pleasure to his eye like that. Perfection consists
simply in doing his will, and being just what he wants us to be. This, too,
was made clear to me: that our Lord's love makes itself seen quite as much
in the simplest of souls as in the most highly gifted, as long as there is
no resistance offered to his grace. After all, the whole point of love is
making yourself small; and if we were all like the great Doctors who have
shed lustre on the Church by their brilliant teaching, there wouldn't be
much condescension on God's part, would there, about coming into hearts
like these? But no, he has created little children, who have no idea what's
going on and can only express themselves by helpless crying: he has made
the poor savages, with nothing better than the natural law to live by; and
he is content to forget his dignity and come into their hearts too - these
are the wild flowers that delight him by their simplicity. It is by such
condescension that God shows his infinite greatness. The sun's light that
plays on the cedar-trees plays on each tiny flower as if it were the only
one in existence; and in the same way our Lord takes a special interest in
each soul, as if there were no other like it.
Saint Thérèse of the Child Jesus (1873-1897), Carmelite, Doctor of the Church
Autobiography of a soul, Manuscript A, 2r°- 3r° (trans. Ronald Knox)
