Treats of the ways by which she lost the favors the Lord had granted her and of how distracted a life she began to live. Speaks of the harm that results when monasteries of nuns are not strictly enclosed.
SINCE I THUS BEGAN to go from pastime to pastime, from vanity to vanity, from one occasion to another, to place myself so often in very serious occasions, and to allow my soul to become so spoiled by many vanities, I was then ashamed to return to the search for God by means of a friendship as special as is that found in the intimate exchange of prayer. And I was aided in this vanity by the fact that as the sins increased I began to lose joy in virtuous things and my taste for them. I saw very clearly, my Lord, that these were failing me because I was failing You.1
This was the most terrible trick the devil could play on me, under the guise of humility: that seeing myself so corrupted I began to fear the practice of prayer. It seemed to me that, since in being wicked I was among the worst, it was better to go the way of the many, to recite what I was obliged to vocally and not to practice mental prayer and so much intimacy with God, for I merited to be with the devils. And it seemed to me that I was deceiving people since exteriorly I kept up such good appearances. Thus the convent where I resided was not at fault. For in my craftiness I strove to be held in esteem, although I did not advertently feign Christianity. In this matter of hypocrisy and vainglory, praise God, I don’t recall ever having offended Him knowingly, because at the first urgings I felt so much sorrow that the devil ended up with a loss and I with a gain. And so in this matter he never tempted me very much. Perhaps if God had permitted me to be tempted in this regard as severely as in other things, I would also have fallen. But His Majesty up till now has preserved me in this. May He be blessed forever! Rather, I grieved very much over being held in esteem since I knew what was down deep in my heart.
2. The fact that they did not consider me so bad was due to their seeing me so young and in the midst of so many occasions, often withdrawing into solitude to pray and read, speaking much about God, fond of having His image painted and put up in many places and of having an oratory and seeking in it the things that promote devotion, not engaging in fault-finding or other things of this sort that have the appearance of virtue. Joined to this was my appreciation—though through vanity—for the things that are usually esteemed in the world. As a result they gave me as much and even more freedom than they gave to the older ones. And they had great confidence in me. For being in a monastery I don’t think I could have been able even to speak of such matters as taking the liberty to do something without permission, such as giving messages through holes in the walls, or at night; nor did I ever do so, for the Lord held me by His hand. It seemed to me—for I considered many things knowingly and purposely—that to risk the reputation of so many who were so good, because of my own wretchedness, would have been very wrong; as if the other things I was doing were good! Still, the evil done was not so knowingly done.
3. That’s why it seems to me it did me great harm not to be in an enclosed monastery. For the freedom that those who were good were able to enjoy in good conscience (for they were not obligated to more since they did not make the vow of enclosure) would have certainly brought me, who am so wretched, to hell, if the Lord with so many remedies and means and with His very special favors had not drawn me out of this danger. Thus it seems to me that a monastery of women that allows freedom is a tremendous danger. And, what is more, it seems that for those who desire to live miserable lives it is a step on the way toward hell rather than a remedy for their weaknesses.
I am not saying this of my own monastery—but of others I have known and seen. For in mine there are so many who serve the Lord authentically and with great perfection that His Majesty, being so good, cannot keep from favoring them. This monastery is not one of those very open ones, but in it is observed a truly religious way of life.
4. I say that it makes me very sad that the Lord needs to make special appeals—not once but many times—in order that one be saved. Since worldly honors and recreations are so exalted and one’s obligations so poorly understood, may it please God that people do not take for virtue what is sin, as I often did. And there is so much difficulty in getting to know one’s obligations that the Lord really needs to intervene in the matter.
If parents would take my advice since they do not want to place their daughters in an environment where the path to salvation is more dangerous than in the world, they would consider what pertains to their daughters’ reputation. They should prefer a marriage of much lower status for their daughters to placing them in monasteries like these, unless their daughters are very inclined to virtue—and please God the monastery will then be beneficial. Otherwise parents should keep them at home. For if a daughter desires to be bad, she will not be able to conceal it at home for more than a short time, but in the monastery she can for a long time; and finally the Lord reveals it. She does harm not only to herself but to all. And at times the poor thing is not at fault, because she follows after what she finds. It is a pity that many who desire to withdraw from the world, thinking they are going to serve the Lord and flee worldly dangers, find themselves in ten worlds joined together without knowing how to protect themselves or remedy the situation. For youthfulness, sensuality, and the devil incite them and make them prone to follow after things that are of the very world. And yet, these are accepted as good, so to speak. It seems to me that somewhat like the unfortunate heretics these religious desire to be blind and to make others think that their path is a good one, and they believe it to be so without believing it, for within themselves dwells one who informs them that it is bad.
5. Oh, tremendous evil! Tremendous evil of religious—I am not speaking now more of women than of men—where religious life is not observed, where in a monastery there are two paths (one of virtue and religious life, and the other of a lack of religious life) and almost all walk in like manner; rather, in place of like manner I should say evil manner. For on account of our sins the greater number take the more imperfect path. And since there are more of them, it is the more favored path. True religious life is practiced so little that friars, or nuns, who are indeed about to follow wholeheartedly their call must fear those of their own house more than all the devils. And they must be more cautious and dissimulating in speaking about the friendship they desired to have with God than in speaking of other friendships and attachments that the devil arranges in monasteries. I don’t know why we are amazed that there are so many evils in the Church since those who are to be the models from which all might copy the virtues are so obscurely fashioned that the spirit of the saints of the past has abandoned the religious communities. May it please the divine Majesty to remedy this as He sees it to be necessary, amen.
6. Now then, I engaged in these conversations thinking that since this was the custom, my soul would not receive the harm and distraction I afterward understood comes from such companionship. It seemed to me that something as general in many monasteries as this visiting would not do me any more harm than it did others who I say were good. I did not consider that they were much better and that what was a danger for me was not so much so for others, for I doubted that there was always some kind of danger—but at least there was some waste of time. While I was once with a person, the Lord at the outset of our acquaintance desired to make me understand that those friendships were not proper for me and to counsel me and give me advice in the midst of such thorough blindness. With great severity, Christ appeared before me, making me understand what He regretted about the friendship. I saw Him with the eyes of my soul more clearly than I could have with the eyes of my body. And this vision left such an impression on me that, though more than twenty-six years have gone by, it seems to me it is still present. I was left very frightened and disturbed, and didn’t want to see that person any more.
7. It did me much harm not to know that it was possible to see in other ways than with the bodily eyes. The devil urged me on in this ignorance and made me think that any other way of seeing was impossible and that I had fancied the vision or that it could have come from the devil and other things of this sort; although the feeling always remained with me that it was from God and not a fancy. But since the vision was not to my liking, I strove to conceal it from myself. Since I did not dare speak about this with anyone and the devil returned with great importunity assuring me that it was not wrong to see such a person and that I was not losing my honor but rather that it was increasing, I returned to the same conversation and also at other times to other conversations. For many years I took part in this noxious form of recreation. It did not seem to me—since I was engaged in it—to be as bad as it was; although sometimes I saw clearly that it was not good. But no other friendship was as much a distraction to me as this one of which I am speaking, for I was extremely fond of it.
8. Once at another time, when with this same person, we saw coming toward us—and others who were also there saw it something that looked like a large toad, moving much more quickly than toads usually do. In that part where it came from I cannot understand how there could have been a nasty little creature like that in the middle of the day, nor had there ever been one there before. The effect it had on me, it seems to me, was not without mystery; and neither did I ever forget this. Oh, the greatness of God! With how much care and pity You were warning me in every way, and how little it benefited me!
9. There was a nun there,3 a relative of mine, older and a great servant of God and very religious. She also warned me sometimes. Not only did I not believe her, but I was annoyed with her and felt she was scandalized for no reason at all.
I have spoken of this to make known my wickedness and the great goodness of God and to what extent I merited hell for such outrageous ingratitude; and also that if the Lord sometime should ordain and be pleased that a nun read this she might learn a lesson from me. I beg her for the love of our Lord to flee recreations like these. May His Majesty be pleased that someone may be disillusioned by me in the place of the many persons I deluded, telling them that these recreations were not wrong and reassuring them in the midst of so great a danger. I did this on account of my blindness, for it was not my desire purposely to mislead them. And through the bad example I gave them—as I said4—I was the cause of many evils, not realizing I was doing so much wrong.
10. When I was sick during those first days before I knew how to take care of myself, I had the greatest desire to help others improve, a very common temptation of beginners, although in my case it turned out well. Since I loved my father so much, I desired for him the good I felt I got out of the practice of prayer. It seemed to me that in this life there could be no greater good than the practice of prayer. So in roundabout ways, as much as I could, I began to strive to get him to pray. I gave him books for this purpose. Since he had such virtue, as I mentioned;5 he settled into this practice so well that within five or six years—it seems it was—he was so advanced that I praised the Lord very much, and this gave me the greatest consolation. Very severe were the many kinds of trials he had; all of them he suffered with the deepest conformity to God’s will. He came often to see me, for it consoled him to speak of the things of God.
11. After I had begun to live in such havoc, and without practicing prayer, and since I saw that he thought I was living as usual, I could not bear to let him be deceived. For thinking it was the more humble thing to do, I had gone a year and more without prayer. And this, as I shall say afterward,6 was the greatest temptation I had, because on account of this I was heading just about straight to perdition. For when I practiced prayer, I offended God one day but then others I turned to recollection and withdrew more from the occasions.
Since this blessed man came to talk with me about prayer, it was a bitter thing for me to see him so deceived as to think I conversed with God as I was accustomed before. And I told him that I no longer practiced prayer, but didn’t give the reason. I brought up my illnesses as making it impossible for me. For though I was cured of that very serious illness, I have always up till now had illnesses and still have some that are serious enough and of various sorts, although lately not so severe. In particular, for twenty years I had vomiting spells every morning so that I could not eat anything until after noon; sometimes I had to wait longer. From the time I began to receive Communion more frequently, I have had to vomit at night before going to bed. And it is more painful because I have to induce it with a feather or some other thing, for if I let this go the sickness I feel becomes very bad. I am almost never, in my opinion, without many pains, and sometimes very severe ones, especially in the heart, although the sickness that gripped me almost continually occurs very seldom. I was cured eight years ago of the harsh paralysis and other illnesses with fever that I frequently suffered. All these illnesses now bother me so little that I am often glad, thinking the Lord is served by something.
12. My father believed that my illnesses were the reason for my not praying; for he did not lie, and by this time, in accord with the things I spoke of to him, I shouldn’t have lied either. So that he might believe more easily (for I saw clearly that there was no excuse for giving up prayer), I told him that I was doing a great deal by being able to keep up with the choir duties. But this was not sufficient cause to set aside something for which bodily strength is not necessary but only love and a habit; and the Lord always provides the opportunity if we desire. I say “always” because, although on occasion and also sometimes in sickness we are impeded from having hours free for solitude, there is no lack of other time when we have the health for this. And even in sickness itself and these other occasions the prayer is genuine when it comes from a soul that loves to offer the sickness up and accept what is happening and be conformed to it and to the other thousand things that happen. Prayer is an exercise of love, and it would be incorrect to think that if there is no time for solitude there is no prayer at all. With a little care great blessings can come when because of our labors the Lord takes from us the time we had set for prayer. And so I have found these blessings when I have had a good conscience.
13. But my father because of his esteem and love for me believed everything I said; in fact he pitied me. But since he had already reached so sublime a state, he did not afterward spend as much time with me but would leave after a brief visit; for he said it was time lost. Since I wasted time on other vanities, I cared little about losing time.
He wasn’t the only one; I also tried to get some other persons to practice prayer. Even though I was taking part in these vanities, when I saw others who were fond of praying, I told them how to practice meditation and assisted them and gave them books. For, from the time I began prayer, as I said, I had this desire that others serve God. It seemed to me that since I no longer served the Lord as I knew I should, the knowledge His Majesty had given me would not be lost and that others would serve Him through me. I say this to make known the terrible blindness in which I lived, for I was allowing myself to get lost and striving to save others.
14. At this time my father was seized with an illness that lasted for some days and from which he died. I went to take care of him, I who was sicker in soul, steeped in many vanities, than he was in body; although, during this entire more lax period of which I am speaking, never so steeped in them—insofar as I understood—as to be in mortal sin. For, should I have understood such to be the case, I would have in no way remained in that condition.
I suffered much hardship during his sickness. I believe I served him somewhat for the trials he suffered during mine. Although I was very sick, I forced myself. Since in losing him I was losing every good and joy, and he was everything to me, I had great determination not to show him my grief and until he would die to act as though I were well. When I saw him coming to the end of his life, it seemed my soul was being wrenched from me, for I loved him dearly.
15. I cannot help but praise the Lord when I remember the death he died and his joy in dying, the counsels he gave us after receiving extreme unction, his begging us to recommend him to God and ask mercy for him and always to serve God and reflect on how all things come to an end. And in tears he told us about the great sorrow he felt in not having served God, and that he would have liked to be a friar; I mean, he would have chosen one of the strictest orders.
I am very certain that fifteen days before his death the Lord made it known to him that he was not going to live. For before this, even though he was sick, he did not think he was going to die. Afterward, even though he had much improved and the doctors told him so, he paid no attention to that but gave his attention to setting his soul in order.
16. His main sickness was a very severe pain in his shoulders which never left him. Sometimes it hurt him so much he was in agony. I told him that since he was so devoted to the memory of when the Lord carried the burden of the cross that His Majesty thought He would like to make him experience something of what He suffered with that pain. This comforted my father so much that it seems to me I never heard him complain again. For three days his senses were very dull. On the day he died the Lord restored them so fully that we were amazed and he was in possession of them until, in the middle of the Creed, reciting it himself, he died.7 He looked like an angel. This it seems to me he was, so to speak, in soul and character, for he preserved his soul very well.
I don’t know why I have told this, unless the more to blame my wicked life after having seen such a death and known such a life. For in order to resemble in some way a father like this I should have improved. His confessor—who was a Dominican, a very learned man8—said he did not doubt but that my father had gone straight to heaven. He had been confessor to my father for some years and praised his purity of conscience.
17. This Dominican father who was very good and God-fearing profited me a great deal. For I went to confession to him, and he took it upon himself with care to do good for my soul and make me understand the perdition that I was bringing on myself. He had me receive Communion every fifteen days. And, little by little, in beginning to talk to him, I discussed my prayer with him. He told me not to let it go, that it could in no way do me anything but good. I began to return to it, although not to give up the occasions of sin; and I never again abandoned it.
I was living an extremely burdensome life, because in prayer I understood more clearly my faults. On the one hand God was calling me; on the other hand I was following the world. All the things of God made me happy; those of the world held me bound. It seems I desired to harmonize these two contraries—so inimical to one another—such as are the spiritual life and sensory joys, pleasures, and pastimes. In prayer I was having great trouble, for my spirit was not proceeding as lord but as slave. And so I was not able to shut myself within myself (which was my whole manner of procedure in prayer); instead, I shut within myself a thousand vanities.
Thus I passed many years, for now I am surprised how I could have put up with both and not abandon either the one or the other. Well do I know that to abandon prayer was no longer in my hands, for He held me in His, He who desired to give me greater favors.
18. Oh, help me God, if I should have to tell about the occasions God freed me from in these years and how I returned and placed myself in them again and of the dangers of losing my reputation completely from which He liberated me! I was doing deeds that uncovered what I was, and the Lord was covering my evils and uncovering some little virtue, if I had it, and making it great in the eyes of others so that they always esteemed me highly. For although sometimes my vanities leaked out, they were not recognized since other things that appeared good were what were noticed.
And the reason was that the Knower of all things already saw that this was necessary in order that those to whom I would afterward speak of His service would give me some credibility, and in His sovereign largess He looked not at my great sins but at the desires I often had to serve Him and at the sorrow I felt for not having the strength in me to put these desires into practice.
19. O Lord of my soul! How can I extol the favors You gave me during these years! And how at the time when I offended You most You quickly prepared me with an extraordinary repentance to taste Your favors and gifts! Indeed, my King, You, as One who well knew what to me would be most distressing, chose as a means the most delicate and painful punishment. With wonderful gifts You punished my sins!
I do not believe I am speaking nonsense, although it would be good if I were to lose my senses in turning now again to the memory of my ingratitude and wickedness.
It was so much more painful, with my temperament, to receive favors, when I had fallen into serious faults than to receive punishment. For one of these favors, it seems certain to me, bewildered and confounded and wearied me more than many sicknesses joined with many other trials. For the latter, I saw I merited, and it seemed to me I was paying something for my sins, although it all amounted to little because they were so many. But to see myself receiving favors again after paying so badly for those received is a kind of terrible torment for me. I believe this is so for all those who have had some knowledge and love of God, because with noble and virtuous hearts this is so even in human affairs. Here was the cause of my tears and my annoyance with myself in being aware of what I felt; I saw myself to be the type that is ever on the eve of falling, although my resolutions and desires—for that length of time I say—were firm.
20. A great evil it is for a soul to be alone in the midst of so many dangers. It seems to me that if I should have had someone to talk all this over with it would have helped me, at least out of shame, not to fall again since I did not have any shame before God.
For this reason I would counsel those who practice prayer to seek, at least in the beginning, friendship and association with other persons having the same interest. This is something most important even though the association may be only to help one another with prayers. The more of these prayers there are, the greater the gain. Since friends are sought out for conversations and human attachments, even though these latter may not be good, so as to relax and better enjoy telling about vain pleasures, I don’t know why it is not permitted that persons beginning truly to love and to serve God talk with some others about their joys and trials, which all who practice prayer undergo. For if the friendship they desired to have with His Majesty is authentic, there is no reason to fear vainglory. And when these persons overcome vainglory in its first stirrings, they come away with merit. I believe that they who discuss these joys and trials for the sake of this friendship with God will benefit themselves and those who hear them, and they will come away instructed; even without understanding how, they will have instructed their friends.
21. Those who experience vainglory in speaking of these things will also experience it in attending Mass with devotion if they are seen and in doing other things they must do if they want to be Christian; and these deeds they are not allowed to abandon for fear of vainglory.
Since this spiritual friendship is so extremely important for souls not yet fortified in virtue—since they have so many opponents and friends to incite them to evil—I don’t know how to urge it enough. It seems to me the devil has used the following artifice as something very important to him: those who truly want to love and to please God are as hidden as other unrighteous persons are incited to make their evil known so that evil becomes so customary it seems socially justified; and the offenses committed against God in this matter are published.
22. I don’t know if I am speaking foolish words. If I am, may Your Reverence9 tear them up; and if they are not, help my stupidity by adding here a great deal. There is so much sluggishness in matters having to do with the service of God that it is necessary for those who serve Him to become shields for one another that they might advance. For it is considered good to walk in the vanities and pleasures of the world, and those who don’t, are unnoticed. If any begin to give themselves to God, there are so many to criticize them that they need to seek companionship to defend themselves until they are so strong that it is no longer a burden for them to suffer this criticism. And if they don’t seek this companionship, they will find themselves in much difficulty.
It seems to me this must be why some saints used to go to the deserts. And it is a kind of humility not to trust in oneself but to believe that through those with whom one converses God will help and increase charity while it is being shared. And there are a thousand graces I would not dare speak of if I did not have powerful experience of the benefit that comes from this sharing.
It is true that I am the weakest and most wicked of all human beings. But I believe they will not be lost who, humbling themselves, even though they be strong, do not believe by themselves but believe this one who has experience. Of myself I know and say that if the Lord had not revealed this truth to me and given me the means by which I could ordinarily talk with persons who practiced prayer, I, falling and rising, would have ended by throwing myself straight into hell. For in falling I had many friends to help me; but in rising I found myself so alone that I am now amazed I did not remain ever fallen. And I praise the mercy of God, for it was He alone who gave me His hand. May He be blessed forever and ever. Amen.